#similar to what shadow said | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weirdmageddon · 8 months

Text

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

#homestuck #homestuck meta #dave strider #mom lalonde #roxy lalonde #hs #strilonde guardian swap

6K notes · View notes

deadsetobsessions · 1 month

Text

Gotham rained a lot more than Amity ever did.

Danny could not help but appreciate the differences. From the way the city itself curled around her inhabitants to the weather, Gotham was far darker than Amity ever managed to be.

Still, there were similarities. The screams, for one. In Amity, it was ghosts, their victims, and whichever ghostbuster of the day rocking up to rock each other’s shit. Another similarity? Danny’s inability to not get himself into troublesome shit, because he could never ignore a cry for help.

That scream was a cry for help if he’s ever heard one.

Danny cursed himself as he slipped through the alleyways, strides becoming smoother and agile than he normally walked like. He stuck to the shadows, the prickling of ghostly senses and honed vigilante instincts guiding him towards the scream. It was a man, getting stabbed by a guy in a red helmet.

Danny maintained that he was new here.

Which is why his foot connected solidly with Red Helmet's... red helmet.

"Motherfuc-" Red Helmet shouted as he was punted several feet away.

"Holy shit dude, are you good?"

Danny helped the guy up.

"Thank fuck! Back up! What took you so long?! Boss is gunna be so pissed if we're late!"

Hold up. Boss?

"Boss?"

“Black Mask, asshole! We gotta go before he decides to cut off our limbs!”

Danny yanked the guy to the side just as a bullet ricocheted off the rusted fire escape.

“Ope!”

“You’re not going anywhere.” A mechanical voice growled behind them.

“Oh fuck, Red Helmet guy.” Danny muttered.

“Shit, ya gotta run, tell boss I got caught.” The injured goon- because it was now apparent to Danny that the guy was working for someone dangerous- said. Danny appreciated the thought, but he only intervened because the guy was getting stabbed.

“Uh,” Danny hesitated. Clearly the guy had the wrong idea.

“Don’t make a move, unless you want your fucking heads blown off,” Red Helmet guy- wait, why does he feel liminal?- raised his guns. “Why don-”

Red Helmet guy was cut off by the thud of the now unconscious goon.

His helmet tilted down and then back up at Danny.

“Guess it’s just you and me,” Helmet guy sneered out. “Better tell me everything you know about Black Mask, or else you’ll get a taste of what he had.”

Danny held up his hands even though he knew he could just let the bullets phase through him. The smart thing would be to absolve himself and not get in the middle of two criminal’s beef as a civilian.

Danny’s full name, however, could have been Danny ‘Dumb Decisions’ Fenton. So, Danny practically interjected himself like an overexcited puppy at a doggy daycare.

“Okay, no need to get bloody. But uh, I have a question.”

Red Helmet cocked his head and mockingly gestured with his gun. “Sure, why not.”

Danny let as much of his midwestern accent into his voice as possible. “Who’s, uh, Black Mask?”

Red Helmet paused. Then he sighed. “You’re not from here, are you?”

“No…? I’m, uh, new in town.”

Red Helmet lowered his guns, and for some reason, Danny could tell that he was exasperated.

“Why would you even get in between a fight, dumbass? I have a gun! I coulda killed ya! He’s a criminal’”

Danny protested. Rude! “In my defense, you were stabbing him! You’re a criminal too, you know!”

“That makes it worse! You-!” Red Helmet paused. “Wait, do you even know who I am?”

Danny let his gaze wander down to the red bat-shaped logo on the guy’s chest. “Uh… Red Helmet… bat-guy?” He hazarded a guess.

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot.”

Danny gaped. “Excuse me?!”

“You heard me,” Red Helmet put his gun back and planted his fists on his hips. “You’re an idiot. Who gets in between a vigilante and the goon of a crime lord.”

Danny crossed his arms, leveling an unimpressed look at Red Helmet. “I’ve never heard of a vigilante killing someone, Red Helmet Bat-Guy.”

“It’s Red Hood.” Red Helmet sighed, walking closer. “And I wasn’t going to kill him.” Danny scoffed.

Danny relaxed, sensing the truth coming from Red Helmet guy’s liminal aspects.

“He’ll die looking at your ugly mug,” Danny sassed. “You’re gonna get him to a hospital, right? I’ll go with you.”

“Are you midwesterners all this trusting? What if I was the goon and this guy was the vigilante?”

Red Hood hiked the goon over his shoulder in a fireman carry. Danny followed after him.

“He’s the one that told me to go running back to his boss, Red Helmet.”

“It’s Red Hood.”

“That doesn’t look like a hood.”

Danny grinned as Red Helmet grumbled. How interesting! Maybe he won’t miss Amity as much as he thought he would!

“Ugh, fine, I guess someone’s gotta watch your dumb ass so you don’t get mugged.”

“I can take care of myself!”

Hood grunted. “I guess that kick wasn’t half bad.”

Danny beamed at him. “Thanks!”

——

Danny chucked a chimichanga at Red Hood.

“Wait a minute, you’re a crime lord! Being a goon was way less illegal than being a vigilante crime lord!”

Red Hood cackled at him.

#danny phantom #red hood #batman #jason todd #dc x dp #dpxdc #bamf danny phantom #Danny the extrovert who adopted Jason the introvert

2K notes · View notes

sonknuxadow · 1 year

Text

sorry for being a hater but some random sonic parody video on youtube could have the worst sonic character impressions known to man and the comments would still be full of people saying "wow you sound EXACTLY like them you deserve to be hired by sega someday". my god

#that or its not exactly Terrible but its a generic voice that sounds vaguely similar but still doesnt exactly fit #and is far from a perfect recreation of any of the official voices #and again people will go Omg you sound exactly like them i cant tell the difference between you and the real one!! girl #also im not saying that if your impressions dont sound exactly like one of the official voices then theyre shit #or that having a not perfect sonic character voice is a crime against humanity #i like a lot of the newer voices in the movies and sonic prime that dont sound exactly like past ones #so i would be a hypocrite if i said that if your shadow doesnt sound exactly like david humphrey himself then its bad #im just tired of people seeing annoying youtubers making unfunny ass videos with ok at best voices for the characters #that you can immediately tell arent the real thing and saying stuff like ''wow you sound exactly like them'' ''sega should hire you'' etc #like no this random youtube guy does Not sound exactly like shadow the hedgehog?? they only sound vaguely similar at best???#(< wasnt trying to single out any specific person btw was just naming a random character i see people do this with often)#maybe the people who say stuff like this on videos like that arent actually sonic fans and dont know what the characters sound like #because i cant think of any other explanation for this stuff

14 notes · View notes

illyrianbitch · 24 days

Text

An Education in Malice

Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, rough, angry, hate sex basically. sexual degradation (name calling), p in v penetration, sex in da woods, bickering and insults, inner circle slander

Word Count: 6.6k

a/n: i know technically we wouldnt be a princess... but we r a high lord family so were running with it for the sexual tension. also dedicated to my soulmate and the brilliant babe, @itsswritten who told me to write sumthin smutty like this. thank her 🫡

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched at the sound.

He’d almost forgotten how grating your voice was to his ears, how it made his body tense with an emotion he could never quite describe. He turned around slowly, taking you in where you stood leaning casually against a tree.

The dress you wore was reminiscent of autumn court elegance, fabric cascading around you in rich hues of crimson, gold, and amber, like the vibrant foliage of the season brought to life, sleeves like flickering flames. There was a sense of wrongness in seeing such an elegant form amidst the wild, your commanding presence even more striking than that of your other family members. If he didn't know who you were, he would have been tempted to describe you as something of unparalleled beauty, a vision amidst a forest of wilderness.

But Azriel knew who you were. He knew what you were.

He had noticed the similarities between you and your brothers quickly, from your mannerisms down to the curve of your lips. You and Eris shared the same snarky smirk– a smirk Az wanted to wipe clean off your faces. You were using it now, holding his gaze with the corners of your lips upturned and amused eyes.

“You look thrilled to see me,” you said.

Az did nothing to hide his disdain as he narrowed his eyes at you. “Where is your brother?”

“Busy,” you responded, absentmindedly running the tips of your fingers along the tree you leaned on. You took a moment to observe the bark before you turned to face Azriel again, a small taunting smile on your lips once more. “I’ll let him know you missed him.”

Azriel held your gaze for a moment, a tick in his jaw as he let out a short exhale. Then, he was turning around to leave, a clear dismissal. A small flicker of anger rose in your body. Quickly, you winnowed in front of him, your sudden appearance setting his shadows into a frenzied dance around him, coalescing into a swirling mass around his neck like a collar of live snakes ready to strike.

“Don’t be rude,” you said, “I’m here on Eris’ behalf. Give me information to report back to him.”

“Nothing to report,” Azriel said, voice flat. He stared at you for a moment, eyes scanning you. And then he was making another notion to leave, brushing past you with a small shove to your shoulder. You nearly laughed at the action, at how easy he was becoming to rile up— at how much your presence bothered him.

“You don’t want to stay and chat?” You said over your shoulder. A flutter of triumph spread in your chest when you heard his footsteps come to a halt. You turned to face him, his back still to you, shadows swirling around his body like black flames. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.”

Azriel turned to face you, a small scowl on his beautiful features. “Not long enough.”

You laughed, the sound stroking his body in a way that sent shivers down his spine. You let out a sigh.

“I get bored in Autumn sometimes, you know?”

Briefly, something flickered in Azriel’s hazel eyes, but it faded faster than you could decipher what it meant or where it came from. He titled his head slightly, eyes taking you in fully.

“Not enough cruelty for you?”

“Something like that.”

You both held each other's stares, his icy gaze against your fiery one. He lifted his chin slightly, rolling his shoulders as if to straighten his already stiff posture. You didn’t miss the way his wings extended slightly from their tucked in position, just enough to stand as a warning, as a reminder of who he was— what he was.

“This is a waste of my time.”

Yet, Azriel made no move to leave— not this time.

“Because you have such important matters to return to?” You asked with a raised brow, “You said it yourself, nothing to report. So, are there some damsels in distress to be saved? Something to make you feel important?”

You made sure to pay extra attention to when you mocked his previous words, tone dropping slightly deeper to imitate his. Azriel’s eyes narrowed even more, a dark wave of evident anger washing through his face, nostrils flared, jaw clenched. You bit the inside of your cheek to contain your grin.

You were playing with something dangerous, this you knew. But Azriel was so fun to rile up, so easy to. You understood, now, why your brother seemed to enjoy these meetings so much. You’d assumed Eris was some sort of masochist, somehow finding pleasure in the necessity of being allies with the Night Court, the same people who so commonly disregarded you and your family as evil and cruel— although, they were right to a certain extent. But perhaps Eris had found some sort of entertainment with this affair.

“Stop talking,” was Azriel’s only reply.

“Why?”

He took a step forward. You made sure to stay still, to hold his gaze as he peered down at you.

“Because you’re trying to get a rise out of me,” Azriel responded, his voice cool, “and it will not work.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed. “Play the unphased act all you’d like, we both know its bullshit.”

He said nothing in response, his eyes remaining locked on yours. Azriel’s stare was harder now, colder. A clear warning was written in his features, carved out between his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes: do not fuck with me.

But you welcomed the challenge. If he wasn’t going to admit it, you were more than willing to prove your point.

“You put my brother in a chokehold in a public meeting. You have no self-control. You’re just constantly one spark away from igniting.”

Azriel growled. “Your brother deserved it.”

You raised your brow in a small taunt.

“Because he called your precious Morrigan a slut?”

Whether Azriel wanted to admit it or not, you were very easily tearing at his resolve. He moved quickly, his hand naturally falling to the dagger at his hip. Shadows moved closer to you, but with a swift movement of your fingers, they were met with the spark of a small flame, quickly retracting back into their mass form near Azriel’s shoulders. You winnowed back to your original place, back against the rough tree bark.

“Careful, Shadowsinger,” you sneered, “You’re forgetting your manners.You didn’t even let me finish.”

Azriel wore a clear scowl now, brows furrowed as he held your gaze from afar, hand still on his weapon. There was something deadly about the way you made him feel, the intensity of those feelings far surpassing any hatred he held for your brothers– Eris, specifically. In truth, the more time Az spent near Lucien, the more he saw him as someone good– and the less similarities he seemed to bear with you, his conniving snake of a sister. You opened your mouth to taunt him once more.

“I don’t agree with my brother,” you said, “Hell, I admire Morrigan for her freedom. I do love a pretty dress. So, I would have called her something else… a liar, perhaps?”

Those words were all it took to light Azriel’s fuse.

Within a blink, he was in front of you, the cold steel of a dagger, Truth-Teller you presumed, pressed against your neck. His wings flared out angrily behind him. Shadows surged around you, a suffocating darkness descending like a shroud, swallowing the sunlight and leaving only a void of darkness. You stared into Azriel's eyes— cold, and angry.

"Shut up," he snarled.

For a moment, a sense of fear flickered deep in your stomach, but you swallowed it down, the flame diminishing before it could properly ignite. Even as his shadows threatened to consume you both whole, you refused to back down, meeting Azriel's gaze with a defiant stare of your own. And then, you grinned. A cruel, wicked gesture that made his blood boil.

“Nice to see you perform without an audience, too.”

Azriel's voice was laden with disdain as he responded, words dripping with venom. "You and your brother are exactly the same."

But instead of flinching at the accusation, you maintained your smirk, unfazed by the blade pressed against your neck. "Which brother? I have quite a few," you countered, your tone teasing, almost playful.

Azriel's grip tightened, images of your family conjuring in his mind. Az could barely remember the names of your other brothers, their features blurring into a blurry mess of fiery auburn and copper. Instead, his mind focused on you– the female before him, under his grip and his dagger, standing next to the two males he despised for different reasons.

“You can decide,” Azriel finally said, “they’re all equally terrible.”

“I’d say Lucien is a good male,” you laughed bitterly, “I’m willing to bet your sweet Elain would agree.”

A surge of fury rose within him, a deep primal instinct to lash out and silence your taunts once and for all. But even as he bristled with anger, he realized you were right.

He was constantly teetering on the edge, one step away from losing control. It had gotten worse recently, watching everyone around him find their place, their people; Elain growing closer to Lucien, his brothers spending time with their mates. Azriel was frustrated. He was angry. You’d done exactly what he told you wouldn’t happen– gotten a rise out of him. He hated it, hated you, hated himself even more.

Azriel took a deep breath, your heated gaze still on him, eyes narrowed, a small smirk on your lips that he filled him with a burning anger. It wasn’t as if he could kill you, no, he couldn’t even really hurt you. One mark on the Vanserra’s youngest and only daughter would be a mark for war. This was a battle Az couldn't win, indulging your provocations for the mere sake of your entertainment. He needed to calm down. Regain control.

The shadows around you began to recede and sunlight filtered back into the clearing as Azriel pushed you away with a snarl. You leaned your head back against the tree as you took a deep breath.

He studied you for a moment before saying, "You'd think someone as pretentious as you wouldn't need to rely on irritating someone for an ounce of attention."

There was a subtle shift in your demeanor—a swallowed response, a flicker of vulnerability. His gaze followed the movement down to the column of your throat.

“Pretentious?”

You gave a bitter laugh.

"Yes, pretentious. All of you Vanserras," Azriel retorted with a bitter edge, “Every single one.”

"That's ironic coming from you. You think we're pretentious?"

Azriel's gaze hardened. "Yes. Cruel, evil, and vile. You think you're better than all of us."

Your mouth widened as you scoffed. And then you let out a laugh of disbelief.

"Oh my Gods, does it ever get tiring?" you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Wallowing in your own self-pity and then using it as a means to hate everyone outside of your incestuous little circle?"

"Do not speak of my family," Azriel snapped.

You smirked. “So you admit your family is incestuous?”

Azriel said nothing, a sudden realization that his anger, once again, had beat him to his rationality, somehow giving you another weapon to use against him. He clenched his jaw, feeling a simmering heat building in his stomach.

"You stand in front of me and pretend to be shocked when I call you for what you are?" he countered with a sneer, “Your family isn't quiet about their disdain for my family, for my kind, or for me."

You lifted your chin. “You don’t even like your own kind, Shadowsinger.”

There was another flare of his nostrils and you knew that you’d gotten him once again. Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, a sight lost to you as his shadows covered them. You continued as he stayed silent.

“I will admit, my family can be a bit narrow minded. Why would I hate you for the things you can’t control? Where's the fun in that?”

Again, Azriel remained silent. He knew if he made a move, if he said a word, it would likely be something he regretted, something that would come back to bite him in the ass.

"I don’t hate you because you’re from the Night Court, or an Illyrian, or a bastard, or whatever it is you tell yourself at night," you continued, your words like a dagger aimed at his pride. "I hate you because you are hot-headed and arrogant. You’ve held a grudge against Eris for something that wasn’t his fault and have utterly screwed Lucien to no end. Your little family is a disease.”

Azriel’s resolve was cracking. He didn’t have enough self-control for this, for you. He’d barely mustered up the diplomacy needed to meet with Eris.

“Stop talking,” he said through gritted teeth. He felt it again, the flicker of frustration that threatened to engulf him like an unattended flame.

You gave him a withering glare. “Or what, you’ll make me?”

Azriel blinked, his eyes scanning your body instinctively. There was something about the words you spoke, the way you had spoken them, that made his body shiver. A small jolt of electricity passed through his muscles. Unfortunately for him, you caught it as quick as it manifested. Your eyes widened as you let out a dry laugh, forming a small smirk on your lips.

“Oh my gods,” you said, taking a step closer, “I bet you’d like that, wouldn't you? Is that why you’re such an ass today?

Azriel’s wings twitched behind him. You gave him a mocking pout as you stared up at him.

“No one to torture, no sweet female to make love to? Poor, powerful, Spymaster.”

Azriel thought for a moment. He thought about the anger boiling in his body, how on edge he’d been, how every little thing had been setting him off. He thought about you, in front of him, a female he despised from previous meetings– loud-mouthed, vicious, and selfish. A female from a family he hated, a family that took things from his family, from him.

And then he began thinking of how great it would feel to show them how wrong they were about him. To prove to them that they weren’t better than him, that he was just as, if not more, powerful than their damned bloodline.

You had been right again. He was pent up. He hadn’t taken a lover recently, hadn’t fucked anyone since that one almost-night with Elain– where she’d been sweet, sensitive, and gentle. But even before, with the females who’d asked for it rough, told him they could handle it, he hadn’t indulged himself too far. He still respected them. They were still wide-eyed and kind, sweet to a certain extent. He didn’t want to hurt them. They were ladies. Azriel respected ladies.

“I said stop talking,” Azriel growled.

There was a tick in his jaw.

“And I said, make me.”

But you, you weren’t a lady. You weren’t sensitive, sweet, or kind. You were a viper. A snake with beautiful lips and a body he found incredibly inviting— not that he’d ever admit it to anyone. But standing in front of him, that defiant look in your eyes, the pride seeping off you, the smirk on your lips… Azriel felt hungry. He felt ravenous.

So, he thought for one more moment. And then he was taking a step forward, one that you matched with an equal stepback.

“Y/n,” Azriel drawled as he continued to take another step. You matched him again, moving back while you glared at him. “Are you not getting enough attention? Is that it?”

Your back hit the tree and you let out a small exhale as Azriel took a final step forward, inches away from you as he stared down with a dark gaze.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You bit out.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You attempted to regulate your breathing as his eyes drank you in, a clear and unashamed desire painted over his face.

“Do I look like a fucking mind-reader?”

Azriel gave a dry chuckle. You were unraveling before him, scrambling for control. “Such a vile mouth for a princess.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that why you came?” He brought a hand to your chin, roughly tilting your face up to look directly at him. “Do you want to be fucked, Y/n?”

The answer was yes, you did. There was a sickening sense of excitement that ran through your blood, a heat pooling between your thighs. But you wouldn’t admit it. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction, weren’t about to prove him right. So instead you stayed quiet, pulling your face out of his hands and turning your cheek.

“I came for intel,” you said through gritted teeth, “in Eris’ place.”

Azriel gave another chuckle, something dark and humorous. His hand trailed to the side of your neck, pushing the hair off your shoulders to expose the line of your collarbone. You swallowed.

“Interesting,” he said. He leaned in, lips against your ear. “Then what is that desire I smell?”

You let out a sharp exhale as he leaned away. Taking a deep breath, you looked at him, biting the inside of your cheek at your body's betrayal. You needed to balance this.

“Maybe its you that needs a good fuck, Shadowsinger. Like I said, you seem real pent up. Noone quite scratching that itch?”

But Azriel no longer seemed angry at your words, instead, he seemed amused– hungry. He was quiet for a second too long, simply staring at you. A sense of irritation prickled at your skin.

“What?” You snapped.

“I can admit that,” Azriel said coolly, “if you can admit something to me.”

“What, are we trading secrets now? I wasn’t aware this was a children's sleepover.”

Azriel didn’t respond. You registered the movement of a dark shadow as it fled from his body, slowly sneaking around your collarbone. You attempted to hit it away, but it quickly slithered back to Azriel, running up his chest to curl around his ear. He smirked.

“When was the last time someone fucked you, Y/n?”

The air left your lungs as you let out a small gasp. You blinked. Quickly, you regained your composure.

“Excuse me?”

Azriel kept his smirk. “It must be hard getting anyone to touch you when you’re so sheltered by those males you call brothers.”

He reached out a hand to your bare collarbone, but you caught his wrist in your hand, allowing it to hover in your grip. His eyes slowly trailed up to your face, heavy-lidded and darkened with a sense of attention that made your stomach clench.

“What the hell are you getting at?” You sneered.

Azriel simply stared at you, the ghost of a smirk still plastered on his lips. His reactions had you gritting your teeth in anger and rubbing your thighs in anticipation at the same time— you hated it.

“Don’t ask questions you know the answers to.”

“You're pathetic,” you spat, “Save your games for a bitch who cares.”

But you still gripped his hand in yours, still felt the heat radiating off his skin. And you made no motion to move. No motion to let him pull back. Azriel didn’t fail to notice this, either.

“That snarky mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble. But I bet that's why you use it, right?”

Your breathing was heavier now. Azriel’s gaze flickered to where you still gripped his wrist.

“You can fool everyone, Y/n,” he said, “But not me.”

You shouldn’t have enjoyed the way his voice sounded on your skin, shouldn’t have felt a breathlessness filling your body as he spoke to you. But you felt it. And it was a burning, hungry desire that made your chest tighten. This was what you wanted, it was what you needed.

Azriel was right. The bastard had read you like a book. Your family, your brothers, never let anyone near you for fear of embarrassment– fear of you bringing some sense of shame. But Azriel was right. You wanted it. You craved it. You wanted to forget who you were, to give up the control you always had to wield.

Before you could overthink it, you loosened your grip on Azriel’s hand and pulled it towards you, situating it on the side of your throat. You let out a small gasp when he quickly wrapped his fingers around the base of your neck.

And then he was pulling you into him with a deep and angry kiss. All teeth, tongue, and fire, mouths crashing together almost painfully, but neither of you stopped. With every movement of his mouth, of his tongue on yours, a dormant flame deep within you awoke.

A primal desire surged through Azriel’s veins like wildfire, the scent of you– of your want, of your desire– filling his senses in a way that had his cock throbbing. There was no room for rational thought, only the raw, unbridled passion that engulfed him in a fiery embrace. His hand found its way into your hair, fingers brushing along your scalp as he yanked your hair to expose your neck to him. His lips wandered to your exposed collarbone, giving a harsh suck to the skin near the column of your throat.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Shut up,” you responded, reaching your hands out to fumble with his leather clothes. Azriel pulled back slightly, grabbing your wandering hands in his. You let out a sound of protest as he ran sloppy kissing along your neck.

“Oh how i’d love to fuck that foul mouth of yours,” Azriel murmured against your skin, his mouth reaching your ear. “But we’re short on time.” He took your lobe in between his teeth and you let out a small groan.

“I bet all you’ll need is a few minutes– and that's being generous.”

Azriel’s hand gripped at your waist, traveling up your chest to roughly grab your breast through your dress.

“No wonder you’re so insufferable.” he said, his voice amused as he pulled back, his other hand tugged at your hair once more. “You haven’t been fucked properly.”

You snarled. "Fuck you."

Azriel grinned.

"Oh, princess, I will.”

And then he was pulling the front of your dress down, exposing your bare breasts before him, nipples peaked in the fresh air. You let out a gasp as a small faint ripping sound traveled to your ears. Before you had a chance to react, Azriel was spinning you around, pulling your back against his chest, one hand bracketing your throat as the other traveled down your stomach, grabbing at the fabric at your dress.

"But first, you're going to beg me for it,” he breathed into your ear, his voice so low you felt it more than you heard it. His words traveled straight to your core, leaving you dripping with want. Yet, you refused to let the words leave your lips. You gritted your teeth, bristled at the suggestion— pride and defiance warring within you.

“Like hell I will.”

Azriel made a sound of disapproval, his mouth still running along your ear, “No?” he asked, hand slowly trailing from your throat to your chest, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. “So you don’t want me to touch you?”

His hand fell over your breast, cupping it in his palm as his thumb brushed over your nipple. You watched as black tendrils of shadow danced around his forearm, meeting where his fingers tweaked your nipple. Their cool gentle touch sent a ripple of sensation through you and your head fell back against him as you let out a small whimper.

“Stop being a fucking tease.”

Azriel found that he loved the way you whimpered, loved the tinge of frustration in your voice as he touched you. Here you were, melting into his touch, attempting to avoid admitting in words what your body was showing in actions.

“I asked you to do something.”

He rolled your nipple between his fingers. You let out a deep exhale, pushing yourself back onto him, grinding into the evident bulge that pressed against you, the thin material of your dress doing nothing to disguise his hardened length.

“Just fuck me already,” you turned your head to catch his gaze, darkened and pupils blown with lust. “I know you want to.”

You covered his hand in yours, molding his hand into your touch, urging him to grab your breast again– harder, firmer.

The corners of his lips quirked up. “That doesn’t matter. Beg for it.”

Agonizingly slow, his hands roamed your trembling form, lighting flames of desire that you almost feared would consume you whole. Second by second, you felt yourself losing control. The heat of his touch seared through you, eroding the last crumbs of your resistance until all that remained was a burning need to be filled by him, to succumb to the primal urges coursing through your veins. You wanted him. You needed him.

“Please,” you whispered, the truth spilling from your lips in a voice so meek you barely recognized it as your own.

"Please what?"

With a trembling breath, you finally let go of the last shreds of your resistance, your voice coming out in a deep, frustrated plea. “Please fuck me.”

Azriel's lips curved into a predatory smirk.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice low and sultry as he pulled away from you. In one movement he was pulling your ass closer to him, forcing your body forward to brace yourself on the tree. In seconds you felt the cool air on your body as Azriel pushed your dress above your hips. Naturally, you felt your body bowing at the sensation. He let out a groan at the sight.

Then he was spreading your legs, baring you before him, glistening cunt on full display. His rough hands gripped your bare ass. He massaged it for a moment, but the motion was brief, and soon you felt a hard hand land on the fat of your cheek. You let out a small shriek, but it was followed by a low moan as he delivered another smack. Azriel smirked at the sound of it, at the sight of your ass reddening with his handprint.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You managed to grit out as you pushed your ass out further, “I’m growing bored.”

“Bored?” He ran finger through the wetness that pooled at your core. “Your cunt doesn’t seem to think so.”

You moaned at the feeling, pushing yourself back against his hand.

“Too stubborn to admit anything,” Azriel murmured, “But your body gives you away.”

Azriel took a step back, your body cold at the loss of contact as he freed himself from the confine of his leather pants, each movement filled with a primal urgency that would’ve made him unsettled— embarrassed even— if he had been in a more rational state of mind. But Azriel wasn’t being rational. All he could think about was you, and staring at your beautiful glistening cunt, all he wanted was to fuck you into oblivion, to let his frustrations out. To tame you like a wild animal— his most tantalizing challenge yet.

He settled himself behind you and stroked his cock along your folds, allowing it to glide against your core until both of you were slick with your desire. He teased you slowly as he moved up and down your entrance. You pushed against him, urging him inside, inviting him to take you.

Azriel only laughed darkly at the movements, and you whined in response, frustrated and irritated.

“Remember this the next time you insult me,” he said, “Remember how you were begging for me to fuck you.”

Half a breath later, he pushed himself inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt. You exhaled in tandem, your cunt clenching him, pulsing around the stretch of him. He adjusted his angle and picked up the pace, sending pleasure rising in a wave that you couldn’t hold back, your mouth falling open as he began to take you harder.

You let your forehead fall against your hands, braced against the rough texture of the tree. You faintly felt the ridges under your palm, but there was no pain, no irritation that you knew you were bound to experience later. All you could truly feel was Azriel deep inside you, stretching you out and using you in a way you hadn’t experienced for a very long time. The lust Azriel felt, the experience of being with you, of claiming you as his, was no longer a desire, no longer a want. It was a need. An animalistic and primal need that he felt deep in his chest.

Azriel's movements were relentless, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure rippling through your body, clouding your mind in a haze of ecstasy and melting away all coherent thought. There were sounds emitted from your lips, this you knew, but they were incoherent whimpers, quiet murmurs whispered towards the ground as your forehead dug into your hands with every buck of Azriel’s hips.

“You had so much to say earlier, Y/n,” Azriel said, pulling out until he was barely inside you. He thrusted back in, resuming a hard and brutal pace.

“Why so quiet now?”

Thrust.

“Did you just need the attitude fucked out of you?”

Thrust.

"What will your brothers think?” he taunted, his grip on your hips bruising in its intensity, “Your father?”

Thrust.

“If only your family only knew what their precious princess was up to. Taking it from the likes of me, like some common pleasure hall whore."

The mention of your family sent a surge of burning shame coursing through your veins, you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, flushing against your exposed skin. But amidst the suffocating shame, there was something else, something primal and insatiable that stirred within you—a hunger born of defiance, of indulging in a forbidden ecstasy. It filled you with a sense of exhilaration that bordered on madness.

Quickly, that spark of defiance ignited within you, mingling with the fiery hunger coursing through your veins, an urge to bite back at him. You craned your head to look over your shoulder, catching his eyes as you let out a moan, taking your lips in between your teeth.

"Do common whores get you this riled up?" you purred. There was a feigned innocence in your tone that made Azriel twitch inside you. His gaze burned into yours. "Do they make you this hungry?”

A part of you wanted the confirmation, wanted the triumphant feeling of knowing you could ruin him for everyone else— that you felt better than the females he had bedded, that you, the one he loathed so openly, were the only one to truly quench his thirst.

“Do they feel as good as me, Azriel?”

He let out a deep, guttural moan. The sound traveled through your body, lighting your skin on fire as you bucked back into his movements, meeting every roll of his hips.

“Say that again,” Azriel groaned.

When you gave no reply, he twisted your hair around one fist and gave it a tug, pulling your body up to him as before. His thrusts never staggered, not even as his hand traveled to wrap around your throat, matching the reddening print from his earlier grip. The other hand remained steady at your hip, gripping into the fabric of your dress and the exposed skin of your body.

“Say my name,” he growled and your cunt tightened at the sound, at the way he gripped your throat harder. You grasped at his arm with your hands, holding on to his skin as he bucked into you.

“No.”

Azriel growled, pulling out of you almost completely before he pushed back in a heavy, angry stroke. Your body arched in pleasure, a small whimper leaving your mouth instinctively.

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Fuck you.”

“I am,” Azriel said, “And your cunt is swallowing me whole, princess. Like it's made for me, like its been begging to be fucked.”

He released his grip from your throat, letting you fall forward as he placed his hand on the small of your back, arching your body for him as he pounded into you from behind. You fell forward, hands planted on the tree before you, fingers clawing at the bark like an animal in heat. Azriel watched as his cock disappeared into your cunt with every thrust, watched how your ass bounced back on him with every movement, how your tits moved with every roll of his hips. He fought not to finish from the sight alone.

You struggled to find your voice through the haze of pleasure that clouded your mind, that seemed to twist and tie your tongue to where you could only gasp incoherent words of ecstasy

“Oh, fuck. Azriel.”

Azriel drank in your sounds of pleasure like a male thirsted for centuries, the sound of his name on your tongue sending a wave of pleasure through his body.

“Are you going to cum, Y/n?”

You let yourself surrender to his touch as he continued to ravage you with ruthless abandon, his voice caressing you in ways you never knew a sound could do. You wanted him to go faster, harder, rougher; wanted him to fuck you with all his might, with all that anger you saw. As if he could read your mind, Azriel’s thrusts sped up, slamming into you.

“Fuuck, yeah, you are. I can feel this pretty little cunt clenching me.”

He continued his pace, fucking you with long thorough strokes that left you completely pinned between him and the rough bark of the tree. You felt him heavy against your back, breasts pressed against his hand as he moved between gripping them both roughly, holding onto them for leverage as he fucked you from behind.

"Look at you," he taunted, his grip tightening around you possessively. "So desperate, so needy. You're nothing but a pretty little slut, begging for release, aren’t you?"

Azriel continued, moving deeper and faster, pumping into you with snaps of his hips that had you writhing underneath him.

"And yet," you managed between breaths, gasps leaving your lips as he drove into you. "You’re the one pounding into me like a brute who can't get enough.”

With a low groan, Azriel's hand tightened around your breast, his grip possessive as he leaned in to bite at your shoulder with a hungry intensity. He was beginning to think that you’d surely be the death of him, that he had created something, some beast inside him, that refused to be satiated by anything other than you— and that was dangerous. But he didn’t think too much about it, not now, not as he felt your cunt massaging him from the inside, felt your walls clamping onto him in a way that set his body on fire, his cock throbbing.

Azriel railed you over and over, nothing slow or gentle about his movements. And with every thrust, you whined in ecstasy. His grip on your hips tightened, holding you in place as he kept pounding into you. He fell forward, grinding against you, pushing you further into the rough bark of the tree.

You could feel it, a deep pressure building in your stomach as his cock stretched you in the most delicious way. And you could feel him too, hot against your back, his deep breaths and the groans that reverberated through his body. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in your ears, muffling out the sound of your moans as your whole body tensed.

Then you felt it, a cool trail snaking up your legs. Dark tendrils of Azriel's shadows slithered through your thighs, caressing your skin with a tantalizing touch that made you clench at the sensation. You gasped as they coiled around your clit, winding you up with a feeling you’d never experienced before. With a loud moan, your orgasm rolled through you in a violent convulsion, white spots dancing at the edges of your vision.

Azriel hated to think it, hated to admit that the sound of you coming undone on his cock was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard, that feeling your cunt clench around him as the sound filled his ear was enough for him to unravel. With a choked moan, Azriel spilled into you, spurts of his seed coating your walls. You let out a final, breathy whine at the sensation of him spilling into you, feeling as it began to drip as Azriel slowly pulled out.

With a heavy breath, his gaze lingered on the glistening trail connecting the tip of cock to your cunt. The lust in his eyes faintly faded, and a moment of clarity washed over him as the reality of what he’d just done hit like a sudden, cold wave. He didn’t regret it, no, not at all. This was exactly the release Azriel had needed. In fact, a part of him nearly grinned at the realization, at the relief he now felt in his body. But the other part of him, the rational side afraid of disappointing his family, of fucking something up, awoke in a panic. What the fuck had he just done? And why was he so proud of it?

You slowly stood up, straightening yourself out as you turned to face him, face flushed and hair a tangled mess. There was a ghost of a smirk playing on your lips as you took them between your teeth and bit down. Your breasts were still exposed, nipples peaked and reddened marks from his rough grip. Azriel's eyes traveled down your form, swallowing hard as he took in the sight before him. He could smell the desire that filled the air around you both, could smell himself on you— the image of him plunging in and out of you still fresh in his mind.

The idea of it alone made his cock stir again. There was something intoxicating about this situation to him. The image of you returning home, covered in his marks, in his scent, in his seed. Eris smelling him on you, realizing that you’d not only fucked someone he despised, but sullied yourself with an illyrian– just as he’d told Mor. And you, you’d remember this. You’d remember him inside you, remember how you let him use you, fuck you like a common-court whore. And you’d have to live with that. Every insult you’d give him, everytime you sneered at him in the future, there would be a part of you that remembered falling apart on his cock as you begged him for more, for him to fuck you harder.

With a gentle flick of your fingers, your dress was perfectly restored, the fabric falling gracefully around your figure as your hair cascaded down your shoulders in silky, untouched, waves. You smoothed out the sleeves of your dress with a practiced gesture before turning your gaze back to Azriel, scanning him from head to toe. Your eyes lingered on his still-exposed cock, covered in the mixed fluids of your cunt and his seed. A smirk played at the corner of your lips as Azriel looked down, realization flickering in his eyes as he hastily pulled up his pants, stuffing himself back into them.

"Well, this was fun," you remarked casually– almost bored. Azriel resisted the urge to frown at the words, at the tone you used. "Catch you later, Shadowsinger."

Before he could respond, you were gone, leaving him standing alone in the forest, staring at the empty space before a tree.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Part Two

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

1K notes · View notes

hazelfoureyes · 2 months

Text

Luck (Alastor x Reader smut)

Tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, creampie, attempted kidnapping, justified homicide, mention of the the history of women stabbing men with hat pins, biting, breeding kink if you squint, blood, Luci left on read :(, protective Alastor, cervix bullying, possessive Alastor, outside sex, rough sex, fem reader

minors DNI

This was a two part story, this being part two. But part one just isn’t good enough and I’m tired of waiting lol so here’s the standalone smut, written in a way it can be enjoyed solo

Vox’s ever present eyes noticed a reoccurring face around Alastor, and decided you were an easy way to get under his skin. Alastor manages to find you during the kidnapping but how he finds you sends his gentlemanly resolve unraveling. He had wanted to be gentle, he really had. C’est la vie, hm?

It took nearly 2 months of regular run-ins around Cannibal Town, chats over black coffee and deviled eggs, and some behind the scenes magic by Rosie but you finally enjoyed a dinner with the Radio Demon.

He’d never tell you how he awoke nightly in a panicked sweat, dreams of your soft skin under his nails tormenting him. He had done his absolute best to be just a charming southerner, tiptoeing between flirtatious and polite. Something about asking someone out during the night seemed scandalous and … loaded with implications. But ever since his hands felt your body thrumming beside him during a dance at Rosie’s Birthday Bash in the town square, he felt starved for the opportunity to see you again. You were beautiful in the daylight, yes. But something about the night, the way the shadows seemed to blanket the two of you together, it made him feel wild. He could remember the nights on the prowl during his time on earth, and the rush of being so close to you with so few people around felt so similar.

Rarely did he get a rush of adrenaline anymore, but when you’d shoot a witty retort back at him his heart would balloon against his ribs. The way you looked at him while he spoke, like you were drunk on the sound of his voice, made his fingers tremble. He never wanted anyone to know this, and hoped in some way he’d never have to tell. But then he considered, what face would you make if you ever reached over for his hand across the table? What if you rested your delicate head against this chest and heard the frantic beating? How sweetly would you smile? Smile at him, only?

“Alastor?” You broke him from his trance, noticing the ever so subtle way his smile seemed to loosen around the edges when he was lost in thought.

Dinner was long done, and you’d both managed to stall for a bit as he walked you toward the gates to Cannibal Town. He had insisted he escort you, though he was irked you wouldn’t allow him to wait until your ride had arrived.

If he knew you were staying with Lucifer Morningstar, he’d see you differently somehow. You didn’t want Alastor to think you were chasing powerful men, or to know you slept so close to the King of Hell. Something in your gut said he would find it unattractive.

“Yes, dear?”

You gestured to the gates a couple blocks in front of you, “This is good. You should get home.” Before Luci arrives to take me back to his.

“I intended to take you to the gates.” He looked past you, then back to you. You were so … small in front of him. Not your body or form, just, your existence. So delicate compared to his own strength. The way you looked up at him with your large doe eyes, it practically pained him. You looked so innocent, pure— how he wanted to make your eyes roll as your head lost any semblance of coherent thought. He wanted to corrupt you from the inside out.

“It’s just a couple of blocks.” He lifted his hand to begin to argue, but you cut him off at the head. “Alastor” you said it so softly now, your tone startling him with its gentleness. Had anyone, ever, said his name so sweetly? Since his mother, atleast?

“May I?” You tapped your cheek. His eyebrows rose before knitting together in understanding.

He leaned down and turned his cheek to you. You hummed happily and placed a chaste kiss there. Alastor turned his face toward yours, “In the future, You don’t have to ask for permission, darling.” You tried your best to keep your heart in your chest, and nodded. It was well known he wasn’t fond of physical touch, let alone unexpected touch. Is this how it felt to be an overlord? To claim a piece of someone else, a slice of territory not originally yours? “Two blocks is quite a deal of distance in hell.” He didn’t take his eyes off yours. Your attempt to distract him failed. Of course it did, he was nothing if not persistent.

“I have my weapon.” You lifted the hem of your dress to show a small angelic dagger holstered to your thigh.

“Ah, yes. Ha ha! Some kind of hat pin, I see” His eyes rolled, amused, “Who would dare bother you with such a frightening needle?”

With a glare, you mocked him, “Ha, Ha.” But as you turned to leave you stopped yourself. Every encounter with Alastor felt like it could be your last, as if he’d just disappear entirely. “May I see you tomorrow? I was going to get coffee at Hallowed Grounds around 10.”

“My dear, you couldn’t stop me.” He cooed, “Needle and all.”

“Good night, Alastor”

“Good night.” He didn’t move at first, but after you had made it half way to the gates of what he felt was assured safety, he let himself turn and leave.

His grin touched his ears as he hummed to himself. His cheek felt heavier where you’d kissed him. A part of you lingering with him. How he wanted nothing more than to grab you by the throat and -

An appliance store window filled with various sized TVs flickered as he walked past. Alastor stopped, ears turned down as he turned on the heels of his feet to face Vox’s cocky stare plastered on every screen.

“Oh, it’s you. Don’t you have a curfew? No TV after 9pm, they say. Rots the brain.” Alastor lifted his hand to inspect his nails. Vox had a witty intro planned, and launched straight into it. He only stopped when Alastor looked back up, “I’m sorry, were you speaking?”

The screens glitched and filled with static before Vox’s face stretched out across them all.

“It’s not my bed time you should be worried about.” Vox crooned. He couldn’t resist the urge to prod Alastor, “Perhaps your new friend should have gone home earlier.”

Just before you reached the gates, you stopped to see if Lucifer had replied about his ETA. Your phone slipped out of your hands as someone pulled you backwards into the narrow alley behind you.

A hand covered your mouth while the other arm was lifting you up by your waist. You kicked your feet uselessly trying to make contact with any thing that would slow your progress into the shadows.

Another man entered now in front of you, “You’ve got a meeting at Vee Tower, babe.”

The sound of an idling car in the back of the alley came into focus. You grabbed your knife and plunged it into the right thigh of the man holding you. He dropped you and you barely managed to scramble to your feet before his hand grabbed you by the hair and threw you against the wall. The force of the impact stunned you but you’d managed to keep the knife in your grip.

You’d been waiting for this. You had let men get the best of you before on earth, too scared of dying if you failed to defend yourself. You weren’t scared now. When you looked back at the man, he was shouting at his partner but you couldn’t understand a word. Your ears were ringing, a combined effect of hitting the wall and your skyrocketing blood pressure.

Your shoes slipped off easily and you pushed yourself from the wall and back into the attempted kidnapper, shoulder first.

Seeing you launch yourself onto his accomplice, the other man booked it out of the alley. It wasn’t worth it. This was supposed to be easier than this.

If he had maybe turned left, he would have made it to safety. But luck was with Alastor when the brute ran straight into him.

Your phone lay on the ground behind the man, who was already backing up when Alastor set his eyes on him.

“I’m going to enjoy this”, Alastor’s voice cracked with a static sting, eyes flickered to red dials against midnight black eyes as his back and neck broke and stretched. The man tripped over himself, but Alastor’s hands tore the man’s upper torso from his body before his ass had time to hit the sidewalk.

There was no time to savor the death, he tossed the man’s head and shoulders into the street before bounding with unnaturally wide strides into the entry of the side street.

Never had he known fear like this. Not when alive, not even close. Not even when Adam nearly bested him. There was a rock in his stomach threatening to drag his heart into the gutter of the Pride Ring as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the alley. Were you still there? Were you still whole?

You hadn’t noticed him at first, not until his massive, looming shadow shrunk across your body. Even then, you hadn’t stopped to realize it wasn’t the other attacker. You continued stabbing the dagger into the man’s throat with both hands until Alastor’s shoe crushed a piece of wayward glass under his step, breaking your concentration. Wild eyes finally tore themselves from the grey flesh of the demon on the floor up to Alastor, still expecting a fight with the man who’d fled.

“Alastor” was all you could squeak out. You were straddling the man by the chest, his throat so thoroughly decimated his head held on by just a few loosened tendons. The white dress you’d worn specially for your dinner was soaked through with blood. Your hands red to the wrists. Your lips and cheeks splattered. Your feet dirty and bare.

You yelped as you were yanked off of the dead man by your chin, Alastor’s large hand holding you off the ground. You were finally eye to eye with your dinner date. For the second time that night you were thrown against the cold brick wall. Alastor’s free hand grabbed yours that still held the knife and repeatedly bashed your fisted hand against the wall until the knife fell from your grip to the street below you. You hadn’t meant to keep it, never meant to brandish it at Alastor. Your survival instinct had overridden your sense.

Perhaps it would have stayed in control, but when Alastor’s hand slipped to your throat and his lips crashed into yours your mind went blank.

He kissed you clumsily, this wasn’t a man in love, or even a man in lust. This wasn’t a man at all. A demon in need was bruising your lips against his teeth. When you didn’t immediately open to receive him, he used his free hand to push at your cheeks and press inward where your bottom jaw naturally met your top. Your mouth was wrenched open, allowing his long and wide tongue to bully your own.

Alastor felt frenzied, the sight of you manically stabbing the already dead attacker momentarily broke him. His sweet little doe, his innocent and gentle darling brutally murdered a man and he got to witness it with his own eyes. He never believed God ever noticed his existence, but the moment he saw you straddling that corpse he felt sure some higher power delivered you to him. Just for him.

Only for him.

Pretense and facade be damned, you were made for him in such a specifically demented way.

He lifted you up, pressing your body against the wall with his own as your legs wrapped around his hips. He didn’t know where to start, he couldn’t keep his hands from trembling as he smeared the blood over your cheek between hurried kisses. His eyes were aglow, keeping your focus on him and only him as they darted around your face taking in every detail, every errant drop of your attacker’s blood.

Alastor buried his head into your collarbone, sucking bruises and nipping cuts into your exposed skin. You could feel the strained erection in his pants, it helped keep you balanced against him and the wall. He seemed to be mindlessly grinding his clothed cock against your core. Your dress had naturally found its way up and over your hips as he let one of his hands cradle your ass.

He had half a mind to rip the dress off of you but as he took a second to look down at your body he knew he wanted to keep it. The dress his love first killed in. Love— before a word that fell weightless from his tongue now sat heavy in his thoughts. He wanted your blood stained dress stuffed in his mouth as his last meal. An ode to your corruption. Maybe you'd understand him now, better than most. Did you enjoy it when you stabbed that man?

Breathing ragged and uneven, he pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes were glowing red, pupils dark black pins.

Did it scare you, when you killed him?

Were you scared now?

He lurched you upward again, hands coming to either side of your head as he pulled back to look at your face properly.

“If you don’t want this, now is your only opportunity to stop me.” He closed his eyes to try and regain an ounce of composure. Perhaps a small human piece of him not wanting to see your face if you denied him this.

With every breath he seemed to be taking in your scent, his hips still gently pushing into you. Your eyes darted to the well lit street just beyond the dark of the alley. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your fingers scratch lightly at his undercut. He violently shuddered at the touch.

You shook your head imperceivably to most, “You don’t have to ask me for permission, darling.”

With that, Alastor came completely undone. As his teeth marked your neck with shallow tears, his hand tore the crotch of your panties entirely off, leaving just the lace waistband to slip up your stomach. With the speed of a starving man to his first meal, his cock was free of his pants and rutting against your exposed slit.

The head of his member was pushing against your clit in unpracticed thrusts, slipping between your lips and pressing at your entrance. With a growl he lifted you up more and angled your hips to him. He didn't wait to feel if he was lined up and he sunk into your heat with a single thrust. You winced, clutching onto his shoulders. His eyes saw the pained expression and for a second, just barely, the southern gentleman who tried to walk you home slipped back to the surface. But as quickly as he came, he was lost again as Alastor saw the way your mouth hung open, tongue hanging over your swollen lip.

A static shock nipped at your wrists where they met his neck, "Such a debauched look, mon cher. I haven't even begun to ruin you yet."

A moan slipped past your lips as he brought his mouth to your ear, tugging with his teeth as he thrust back into you. You could feel he hadn't bottomed out yet, but already he was crushing your stomach into your diaphragm. Your chest began to feel hot, a warmth trickling down to your stomach and pooling beneath your belly button.

Ad his breath ghosted along your neck, you could hear it sharply spike with every slam of his hips against yours. Something about seeing him losing composure, hearing him so vulnerable, spurred you to roll your hips against his cock.

"Mmmm," Alastor groaned, "Don't push your luck, dear. Do you know how precarious of a sit-"

You did it again.

He pulled out of you with one motion and flipped you around. Your hands were yanked behind you, the long fingers of one of his own hands intertwined with your wrists. His other hand lifted your knee up and out as he pushed back into you. The new position allowed him to reach deeper than before, and with a burning stretch you felt him finally bottom out. With each thrust, the head of his dick dragged inside of you. The new angle allowed him to smash into your g-spot with every slam into your heat, his balls tightly slapping against your wet cunt.

"I wanted to be gentler with you", He leaned his head against your shoulder, pace quickening. It felt as if your back would snap in half, "But you looked absolutely sinful covered in his blood." His lips grazed your ear as he let go of your wrists, his antlers now large enough to be scraping against the bricks above your head. The loss of him holding you made you lose you balance. Alastor took the opportunity to find your clit with his middle finger.

Biting down on your lip you broke the skin, trying to suppress the moan rising out of you. His hips kept a bruising pace, your ass smacking against his lower stomach with every thrust. You didn't want anyone, anyone to find you getting railed against a wall just outside of cannibal town.

His fingers forced past your lips, you hadn't noticed he was using a shadow tendril to now lift your knee to nearly touch your elbow. Two fingers pressed down on your tongue as his pace impossibly quickened.

You wanted to lick or suck at his digits, do anything to participate in this alleyway fucking, but it became clear Alastor didn't want you to do anything at all. He was lost in the pleasure of your pussy clamping down on him, pushing back against him with every intrusion. He just needed you to exist there around him. He needed you to take him, for your body to welcome the gentle abuse.

The pressure began to build as the reality set in that the Radio Demon was fucking you raw against a wall. You felt your orgasm winding up. The infamous Alastor, the mighty overlord, balls deep in you. So entranced by your cunt he could only groan and hiss against your ear. You could feel every centimeter of him pulling and pushing inside of you, his head smashing your cervix and uterus into your guts.

Your hands began to slip down the wall as your mind started to go fuzzy around the edges. His middle finger strumming at your sensitive clit with a new fervor, his thrusts becoming shallower. The radio in the assailants idling car roared to life, flitting through stations and static wildly as Alastor spoke to you.

"When you orgasm,” His voice crackled against the nape of your neck, "and your cervix lowers to receive my seed,” your knee was dropped as he fucked you flush against the wall, trapping your body there, "I will drown your needy cunt in my cum, darling." His words echoed through the car's radio and off the walls of the alley, volume peaking with a pop as the speakers blew out.

The tickle of his lips along your spine made you shudder, and you went limp as you let your mind go and allowed your body to spasm around him. As your orgasm hit, your stomach muscles cramped and your body tightened around Alastor's cock. He hissed, his hips losing their rhythm for a second as you almost painfully clamped onto him, cunt trying desperately to pull him deeper into you. He needed to slow down or else he’d be pushed into his own release sooner than he planned. As your orgasm waned and your pussy squeezed softly against him again, he renewed the rhythm. Your body had gone entirely slack, your limbs no longer able to receive messages from your brain.

Within seconds, Alastor thrust against you so forcefully you felt the air pressed out of your lungs. He buried himself in you, holding your hips flush against his as you instinctively tried to squirm away. The way you moved against him, tried to flee from his release, only seemed to make his cock jump more inside you. You thought you heard a pained “mine" against your shoulder as his promised seed jerked into your now pliant womb.

He finally stilled, his dick softening in you. You felt your body slide down the wall, feet touching the ground before giving out entirely. You sat, slumped back, and looked to the scene in front of you. Dead demon behind Alastor, your shoes bloodied and tossed around, and your little knife just within reach.

Alastor quickly composed himself, cock returned to his pants and his suit adjusted precisely. You looked up at him, eyes glazed and tear stained. Your dress was wet and ruined, thighs slick with a mix of fluids. Yet he stood there, clean and pretty. Perhaps some of you had soaked into the front of his pants, but you couldn’t be sure.

"I apologize for underestimating you", He took the dagger, lifting your dress to slide it back into its holster. "And for allowing you to leave my sight." He gathered your shoes and wiped the dirt from them against the leg of his pants before gently slipping them back onto your feet. With two large hands under your arms he pulled you up to your feet, legs trembling still. "I promise you it won't happen again. Can you walk, my doe?"

The new name made your cheeks feel hot, funny given the more embarrassing part of this situation was his cum now sliding down your thighs. You nodded weakly, adding, "But-" and glanced to your lap. You squeezed your knees together and looked back at him.

"I fail to see the problem." His head tilted to the side as he lifted your dress with one of his long fingers and watched the milky white liquid slowly inch down your inner leg. "But, I'll find us a taxi. You won't be going home." He guided you by your hands to step over the corpse and into the light of the street.

You clarified, "I won't be going home tonight?"

He summoned his microphone and brought it down with a crack onto your phone, still discarded on the sidewalk. "INCOMING CALL: LUCI" flashing on the screen before it was shattered. He lifted his hand and waved for a passing taxi, turning to you with a soft grin, "Any night, darling."

༻Masterlist༺

2K notes · View notes

donutz · 3 months

Text

Yandere Dogday x smiling critters cat reader

A/N|| I kind of.. Completely forgot that Dogday was supposed to be a yandere, but he really wouldn't do much as one so... I think it's okay! ^_^

Request from Wattpad—! Here you go Shaymi999 ☆

Your ‘name’ was SleepyMew. Not so good is it? Well stick with it, it’s what they named you. You had some resemblance to Catnap, you both were about sleeping, and you two were cats.

So when you arrived, the other critters were all over you, saying that you were similar to Catnap. While Catnap stared from the shadows.

It wasn’t impossible to see him up there, cats do have night vision after all.

While almost every critter was surrounding you, Dogday stayed behind. Getting a gooood look at you. You noticed that too.

Dogday snapped out of his trance and told the other critters to not crowd you, especially since you’re new.

He asked for your name and you said, “SleepyMew, though I don’t like the name…” You rubbed your eye, because you were just sooo sleepy!

One unique thing about you is that you didn’t have a permanent smile, you could actually move your mouth. Even with your cool feature, nobody was jealous. They found it amazing!!

“Well I like the name!” Dogday exclaimed, causing the other critters to look at each other. Not curious, noooo, they think somethin new is goin on with Dogday.

“He has a crush on Mew.” KickinChicken whispered to Hoppy Hopscotch, and since dog’s have excellent hearing Dogday heard every bit of Kickin’s claim, “Hey! I do not!”

Kickin realized he was caught and said, “What? I never said that?? Man who said that…” Causing the other critters to giggle.

“... Anyways! Would you like to be shown around the place?” Dogday questioned you, still suspicious of what Kickin said.

“Uhh, yeah sure.”

“Great! Come this way!” He softly grabbed your wrist and led you towards areas of playcare.

Even Catnap was a little bit suspicious of Dogday’s feelings.

After Dogday gave you a tour around the place, you settled in and started doing what you were made for. Calming down the kids. There were a few 5-6 year olds that were too excited, and the kids needed to be more chill for the activity.

You lazily walked over to them, asking their names. The kids stated them, and you dealt with their ecstatic energy. Meanwhile, Dogday was watching you deal with them, feeling both proud and impressed at your work.

His feelings growing bigger.

After a few months of working at playcare you and Dogday were together.

You two were sitting on the couch, while Dogday was right next to you, his leg over your lap. He has his arms lightly wrapping around your neck, his head laying on your shoulder. Obviously his tail was wagging.

“Hey… You know how people get rings on their finger in shows…” Dogday said.

“Yea, but how do you know that?”

“I saw it on a show once. Anyways, do you want that to be us?” He looked to your eyes.

You looked back at him, “Yea.”

After a few days you guys actually had this marriage. You didn’t expect it to happen but that was okay.

Cutely, you guys had these little toy rings, KickinChicken was the marriage officiant, “And you may now hug each other not just the bride.”

Then you two had a big hug, with a big smile on your face. Now that was rare.

Years later, all was hell, hundreds of dreaded screams filled even the smallest cracks of Playtime co.

All critters were trying to find a way to live, except one, Catnap.

Dogday was trying his best to get people to safety, while simultaneously worrying about you. “Where’s Catnap?!”

“Catnap is one of the murderers Dogday, we need to go.”

His eyes went wide, he never knew Catnap was doing this.

“WHAT?! How do you—”

“I saw it. I saw him violently kick away the children just so he can have his fill. Catnap isn’t going to leave with us, in fact, he’s following the Prototype.”

This was so sudden for Dogday, his best friend was the cause of all of this?!

“I know a spot where we can—” Your fur stood up, your hairs itching at your toy skin. Your irises went smaller and smaller, you slowly turned your head towards him. Towards Catnap.

The much bigger Catnap.

Knowing you were in danger, you started growling(you are a cat after all), but Dogday was… surprised. What you said was true, it’s not like he didn’t believe you, it’s just he didn’t expect to see it before his eyes.

“Dogday, run.” This was a fight between two cats, it’s better not to try to stop it. It can get quite bloody.

“WHAT?! NO I CAN’T—”

“GO.”

Reluctantly, Dogday sped away.

“THE PROTOTYPE WILL SAVE US.”

“...”

Then, the cat fight started.

Dogday was helping out others get to safety, as the nice dog he is… He was waiting for you. Hoping you’d make it out alive.

An hour later, he was looking for you. He found you! And you weren’t dead! You were very bloodied up, laying on the ground.

Dogday hurried over to you, happy you’re still alive. You wanted to yell out, tell him to not come over, but he is listening. So you shook your head really hard, something you did before this all happened. Why? Because that's how you indicated to not do it, to do anything(you did it when you didn’t want to talk).

Thankfully, Dogday was watching you and not just doing actions. So he stopped. Catnap was right there, he could strike at any moment. You didn’t want that to happen to your precious Dogday.

Even if Dogday didn’t come out of the hallway he was in, Catnap still attacked. Well tried to. Dogday dodged in time and ran over to you, picking you up and high tailing it outta there.

You two managed to get to a somewhat safe area, and Dogday had time to be alone with you. There’s some bandages and rags in the area so he could heal you up, just a little bit.

Dogday was trying to calm down, but couldn’t. As the smiling critter who’s supposed to help relax others, you took action.

“It’s okay Dogday. I won’t die.”

“...” He looked up at you, with sincerity, “I should’ve never ran away…”

You cracked a small smile, “Hey, at least I got like… 5 scratches in?” Dogday furrowed his eyebrows a little, “Mew don’t joke around right now.”

“Sorry…”

After all this time, you wondered where Dogday was. Alive, hopefully. Apparently an angel entered the building, and was able to get by all the chances of death.

You don’t know where they are now, but you hope they could save Dogday.

“Hey.. It’s… Okay it’s not alright, but try to think about the positive things..” Poppy comforted(tried to).

“I am, but it doesn’t help at all unless I know that he’s safe.” You were shivering, hoping the positive scenarios you thought of were true.

Few hours later, Poppy and Kissy found a safe place where the player, or Dogday, could be.

Though you didn’t know Dogday was going to be there.

So once you saw him, you sped over to where he was and picked him up(you were in your larger form like Dogday).

You were crying, that’s the first time you’ve cried, even when Catnap was nearly killing you.

“I miss you so much love..” … Love? That’s a new one.

“Since when did you start calling me love?” You said with a smirk.

Dogday got a little flustered, “Uhm, I remembered that you didn’t really like your name, so I just thought of it…”

“Mhm.” You looked down and saw that he had no lower half. “Oh, that’s also new. Is that why you were so light?”

“... Yes.”

“Hm, player, do you know how to put together his body?”

They nodded and they immediately started working on putting his body back together.

After an hour, he finally had his legs back, he was still shorter than you though. “Hah! I’m tallerrrr!!” You bragged.

“... Really…?” He wasn’t annoyed, in fact he was happy, that he gets to see your smile again.

Player suddenly remembered that they found a ring while ‘adventuring’.

They mentioned it and asked if that’s anyone’s ring. Yours and Dogday’s eyes went wide. “Dogday is that your—”

“MY RING!!”

The player unknowingly just caused the biggest reaction from you two, just because they wanted to search around a little more.

“Angel, where did you find this?!”

They said it was in this area with a big paw pillow in the room.

“Catnap was keeping your ring?” You questioned.

It went silent, not for too long as your cat growls slowly filled the area.

“I’m killing that stupid cat.”

“Love, don't say that!”

He was secretly hoping you’d actually do it.

#poppy playtime #poppy platime fanfic #poppy playtime x reader #smiling critters #catnap #dogday #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #gn reader #dogday x reader #fluff relationship #poppy #kissy missy #kickinchicken #hoppy hopscotch #dogday x smiling critter reader #dogday x smiling critter cat reader

1K notes · View notes

rboooks · 11 months

Text

DP x DC: Child Support

John Constantine has done a lot in his life. Some good, some bad but most have been dangerous.

He sold his soul to as many powerful beings as he could so that they could fight each other over it and keep him in a safe-ish stalemate. It was a risk, one where he had to sweet talk, maneuver, and sometimes seduce his way through, but he's always come on top.

Waking to his wards broken as easily as someone walking through a still river meant he had finally met his match. John woke to the Time looming over him in its adult form.

Clockwork, the physical concept of Time, smashed into a body and consciousness. It's so rare to see the god outside his tower; to even be in his presence was such a high honor that families would keep proof of the encounter for generations to brag about.

"Hello, Johnny," Clockwork said in his specialized adult form. The nickname curved with fondness. This form is an even rarer sight to behold. Clockwork looked about to be in his late twenties, dressed in a Victorian-era suit with dark black hair, he would look human were it not for his pure red eyes and time staff.

He looks gorgeous.

John smiled nervously. "Clockwork. What do I owe the pleasure?"

The ghost hums. "I have come to make a deal with you."

See, that's not something John would like to hear from the second-strongest being in the multiverse. He was second to the Ghost King. Some would even argue that Clockwork was stronger were it not for his desire to remain neutral in conflicts for the sake of different timelines.

"What kind of deal?" John asks with a lustful grin, running his eyes up and down Clockworks form. It looks like he may have to seduce his way out of this again and hopefully could convince the god of Time that he was a great time in bed instead of dead once more

The Master of Time appears amused but unwilling to climb under the sheets with him. Bollocks, if he wasn't back for another month of pleasure then the deal would likely be unpleasant.

Even if Clockwork could be considered a past fling, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't ask for something harmful. John had less powerful exes who would gladly have him killed just as likely as they would key his car.

To make thinga worst, Clockwork reached into his gentleman jacket to pull out a small jar. John's heart leaped in horror at what was inside.

"I have collected every piece of your soul through challenges, purchases, or even offerings. I own you entirely, John Constantine," Clockwork said, his warm tan skin rippling into blue as the Ghost turned the jar this way and that. "I wish to return it to you, with my added protection, should the old contracts which you swindled will not seek out revenge in exchange, you must take responsibility."

John can barely breath "Responsibility of what?"

Clockwork gestures behind him, and out of the shadows step a human boy. A human boy that looks precisely like human-Clockwork as a teenager but with John's eyes and the shape of John's nose.

No.

He knows that despite how similar they look, Humans and the citizens of the Infinite Realms aren't biologically the same. He just didn't think that meant this.

That he could be so careless it resulted in this.

Clockwork waves a hand between them. "Jonny meet your son, Danny."

John choked as Danny awkwardly waved at him. He even stuffs his hands into his pockets the same way John would stuff his hands into his trench coat.

This can't be happening.

"Our son is half human, and it's unhealthy for humans to remain in the Infinite Releams for long periods. I now require you to raise him on Earth until his core is ready. The day our son is of age, you will have your soul back with my Infinite protection. Danny will take the throne of the Infinite Realms upon his marriage so do help him find a good suitor."

Clockwork considers the rapidly paling human with large amounts of glee. "I trust this would be acceptable? I must warn you, I have raised him outside of time, so he is a bit behind with modern technologies and references. He also has a ghost form he must use for his health. Oh, and, Danny has a peanut allergy, so keep that in mind for his meals. If anything were to happen to Danny while he lives with you, I would erase this entire place and not through time manipulation. I will simply kill everything. Keep you alive so I can kill every version of those you love across the multiverse in front of you. Try not to slip away from your child support to prevent that, yes?"

John faints.

Danny Fenton had to be removed from his dimension to erase Dan from existence. His future self had nearly escaped the Clock tower they couldn't risk a second time. Clockwork had told him removing him from his dimension, his timeline, would never allow Dan to exist. It broke his heart but to save the many lives that Dan took Danny had agree.

His friends and family were devastated even if Clockwork told them Danny would be allowed visits. Just nothing longer than a week and six months between visits. He had moved into Clockwork's haunt, becoming an assistant to the master of time. He helped weave timeliness, and suggested possible choices for various creatures of various situations across the multiverse.

Danny helped Clockwork control fate, if that wasn't ridiculous. He even tried his ghost powers, to the point he felt he could truelt match his mentor in a fight.

He spent two years like this- or two years in his home dimension. Time didn't move in Clockwork's tower so despite the amount of time he lived there Danny didn't look a day over fourteen still. It irked him like nothing else to see Tucker and Sam as sixteen year Olds while he still looked like he was a freshman.

(It also hurt to see them move on without him.)

However, due to his halfa status, his human side was starting to fall apart. He needed sun, food, sleep, and other humans. He would go mad otherwise, and none of this would matter if it resulted in Dan.

Clockwork couldn't put him back home. He couldn't even put Danny in an alternate timeline, for he could not be close to people he knew.

He had to go to one that had no various of anyone Danny knew. Thankfully the Infinite Releams is connected to plenty of places that fit the bill. All Clockwork had to do was twist a few small events, and boom, Danny Fenton would have a perfectly legal background with everything he need for survive.

If only his mentor wasn't such a michivious prankster.

" You want me to pretend to be your love child with some random magic guy?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Trust me Danny, it's going to be hilarious."

(Part 2)

#dc x dp crossover #John Constantine takes on Danny #Clockwork ans John were a fling #John is losing his mind.#Danny went along with it cause his bored #Child Support

4K notes · View notes

thestarkinternship · 29 days

Text

The Red Henley

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader: Drabble (Fluff)

Word Count: 454

Masterlist

“Is that my shirt?”

Of course it was. He watched as your cheeks turned a similar shade to the Henley that you were wearing. It hung off your frame, swamping your body. The excess fabric draped around your bare thighs as you sat cross-legged in your shared bed. Sleeves pulled over your hands, you nervously picked at your nails. You’d never worn one of his shirts before, but the night was cool, and you had just gotten so cold in his absence that you couldn’t help yourself. He had so many, and this had always been your favourite. So what if you borrowed it for the night?

A soft grin tugged at the corners of his lips as his eyes raked over you. He had to admit, you looked damn good wearing his clothes. Bucky climbed into bed beside you. As you reached over him to turn out the lamp, your hair fell over your shoulders. The colour of it was the perfect contrast to the red of his shirt, somehow making you look even more beautiful in the dim light.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he pulled you in close to his side. Now fully submerged in darkness he ran his fingers up and down your clothed back, allowing the feel of the fabric to prompt the memory of seeing you in his clothes. As shadows took over the room, Bucky already missed seeing how you looked.

But now, he had to settle for the feel of your arms around him. With your head rested in the crook of his neck, you fitted perfectly. Bucky pressed a kiss to the top of your head. His nostrils filled with the smell of your delicate shampoo mixed with the faded aftershave that clung to his shirt. Still rubbing the cotton between his forefinger and his thumb, he thought about how sweet a scent the combination was. Perhaps he’d dare to say it was his new favourite.

He still hadn’t said a word aloud about the shirt though, and that made your heartbeat quicken. Was he annoyed? Should you have asked before taking it? Propping yourself up on your elbows, you glanced up at him the best you could. Bucky shifted beside you, curious as to what you were up to. When you finally spoke, your voice was a soft whisper.

“Is this okay? I can change if you want me to.”

A light chuckle from him filled the silence. His hand traced up your back until it reached the neckline of his shirt. Feeling along your neck, he brushed a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

“What makes you think I want that? No, you keep it. It looks better on you, doll.”

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you

695 notes · View notes

lynxgriffin · 7 months

Text

Eldritchrune - Asriel Investigates

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

In his quest to find Kris and discover what might have happened in Hometown, Asriel goes digging for some arcane information. But is his canine companion actually helping him with useful knowledge, or just getting him into trouble??

Also, just in case the text is hard to read in his old books, here's a text version of what's in the two books under the read more!

From Denizens of a World of Darkness:

Sealed too in this dark realm are beasts of immense size and terrifying power, said to speak in tongues unknown to man. While varied in size, shape and abilities, these beasts share a similar nature of feeding upon humans and their souls. While impossible to know for sure, it is speculated that the inherent potential within all humans is as nutritional to these monsters as bread and meat is for man. If these beasts were to be released into the world we know, a great roaring calamity would come upon the land. Even the most practiced of magicians would struggle to stop such creatures. It is, therefore, a great relief that these beasts are unable to leave the Dark World of their own accord.

From Comprehension of Greater Demonae:

Most contradictory among the demon monarchs of the Dark World is (Ralsei), a prince of darkness. This entity embodies the shadows cast by the hearth, the loneliness of spaces between the warm comfort of company. Fire and shadow alike are attributed to this demon.

This being is said to quell any enemy, no matter how great a threat they may be. And yet, other tales describe this demon as akin to a pleasant neighbor, delighting in companionship. Much debate has ensued over reconciling these two narratives.

But is this truly a contradiction? The fire that burns pleasantly in the hearth and warms the family home is the same fire that burns down a city and devastates the lives of all who live there. Brotherhood becomes the madness of the mob at the turn of a coin.

No, the true terror of Ralsei is the loneliness said to reside in whatever spaces a demon’s soul would be, if they possessed them. This demon will do all that is asked of it to obtain the ultimate prize: a human soul forever bonded to it in the [cut off]

#lynx art #eldritchrune #deltarune au #asriel #annoying dog #PHEW the backgrounds are what killed me on this one #and even then I cheated where I could on those #it's like the dang ball pit all over again

2K notes · View notes

taevbears · 6 months

Text

Movie Night

When horror movies don't scare you anymore, your boyfriend wants to figure out what you are afraid of.

⤑ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader (feat. the Daegu boys) ⤑ genre: horror, mystery, suspense, one-shot ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.1k ⤑ warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, depictions of kidnapping, torture, and multiple murders, hidden camera, non-explicit sex, a bit of angst, open ending. this fic gets pretty dark, so please be cautious of the warnings! ⤑ note: happy halloween! this started as a little spooky shower thought i had a little over a month ago and became this lol. i love reading scary stories, but lmao, i feel like i'm not very good at writing them. thank you @angelicyoongie for assuring me that this isn't as terrible as i think it is. also please note that this is a work of fiction and i don't think IRL jungkook is like the character in this fic at all

“No, please! Don’t hurt me!”

The shadow of a muscular, male figure looms over the female protagonist. His breaths are heavy from chasing her around, barely visible against the chilly, October air. Finally, he has her cornered. He holds up a sharp knife in the air.

The woman trembles on the ground, sobbing and pleading for her life to be spared. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and a look of hopelessness and despair fills her eyes. She holds her hands in front of her in a feeble attempt to defend herself.

The camera pans away as the killer violently stabs the woman. Her terrifying screams of pain and anguish echoes from the TV screen as fake blood splatters on the wall.

Blue and white light bathes over you and your date in the dim living room. You try to suppress a long yawn with the back of your hand.

You’re so bored, you’re practically in tears.

“You didn’t like it?” Jungkook asks you, chuckling at your reaction.

“It didn’t scare me,” you admit sheepishly, hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

You love horror movies. It’s what inspired you to become a film student. You love being on the edge of your seat from the thrill and suspense that the main character acts out. You love being genuinely shocked from unexpected twists and jump-scares. You love a good ghost story that haunts you long after the credits roll, or the paranoia of a similar terrifying incident happening to you.

But perhaps, over time, they’ve lost a bit of their magic.

Although the production of movies has become phenomenal in recent years, movies these days seem to rely too heavily on shock value and nostalgia. Once popular franchises are milking out their legacies to a newer audience. There are so many retellings of the same, old stories that you can already accurately predict what will happen before you reach the ending. Even some of the most climactic scenes of the movie are so over-the-top, they’re almost comical.

Honestly, it has nothing to do with your date or even the so-called horror movie itself. You just don’t scare as easily anymore.

Jungkook peers are you curiously, a boyish grin on his face. “Then, what are you scared of?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah? That’s a bold statement.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Jungkook laughs. “You have to be scared of something.”

You throw the question back at him. “Then, what are you afraid of?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin in thought and pushing his tongue against the lip rings on his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles at you. “Hmm, I think I’d be scared to lose you.”

You find yourself smiling back at him.

“You’re so sweet, Kook,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him.

Only recently, you and Jungkook started dating officially, and you really like him a lot. He’s very cute, funny, handsome, and perfect in many ways. Butterflies flutter in your stomach when you’re around him, and there’s still that exciting giddiness and eagerness of new love whenever he messages you or visits you in the evening.

In some ways, Jungkook is almost too good to be true.

Part of you wonders if there’s a catch.

But with his lips on yours, it’s easy to push that thought aside.

Credits roll on the screen as the movie comes to an end. His fingers glide up your thigh as yours tangle into his hair. The cool piercing on his lips presses against your bottom lip as he slips his tongue in your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away and faces the TV. He uses the remote to tap out of the movie credits and browse through the list of recommended shows on your streaming service. Casually, trying to hide a teasing smirk, he asks, “How about we watch a different movie, then?”

You stare back at him, a bit stunned and flustered. But your own smile touches your lips.

“Or,” you suggest, grabbing his wrist to lower the remote. He turns away from the screen to look at you, eyes lingering on the sultry smile on your lips. “I know something else we can do instead.”

When you first saw Jungkook, you thought you were being catfished.

His selfie on the dating app included a slight head tilt, a pucker of his pierced lips, and a peace sign. Big, doe-shaped eyes stared back at you from your phone screen, and you noticed the tiny moles below his lip, on the tip of his nose, and on his cheek.

The second picture was of him and his brown doberman, affectionately named Bam. The picture was taken of them outside. One of his hands was holding a tennis ball and the other was gently touching the dog’s long ears. A small, fond smile tugged on your lips when you looked between them and realized that they kind of looked alike.

The third picture was him at the gym. It was a back-shot where he was using the equipment. Broad shoulders, buff arms and back, a tiny waist. You stared way too long at his strong muscles and the ink on his arm before you finally swiped right.

Turned out, much to your surprise, he liked your pictures too. The two of you were a match.

And it wasn’t long until he sent his first message to you. In your inbox, a simple: “hey :)”

On your first date, the two of you agreed to meet at a very public, very crowded bistro. You stood nervously by the building, dressed nice for the occasion. And in case anything went wrong or if this Jungkook guy wasn’t who you expected him to be, you shared your location and had a “send help lol” message on standby for your bestie, Min Yoongi.

As you waited, scrolling through and jumping around different apps on your phone, you found yourself to be surprised yet again.

Someone who looked like the guy you’ve been chatting with called out your name. And soon, he was standing in front of you: big eyes, bigger muscles, tiny beauty marks on his face, colorful ink on his arm, a charming smile, and a simple, “Hey, I’m Jungkook.”

One date turned to a second date. Then, a third. And by the fourth date, as he laid in your bed that night and snuggled close to you, it finally started to sink in that Jungkook wasn’t some figment of your imagination.

He was real, and sweet, and seemed to really like you as well.

Jungkook, like you, had an interest in filming. He especially liked editing videos for his dance challenges, short clips, and a series he called “Golden Closet Film” on his channel. While you imagined yourself to be a big director, working in movie sets, and making scripts come to life with your vision, Jungkook told you he’d like to film a project where you’re the star.

“I don’t think I’m on-screen material,” you replied, amused by the idea. You’re not an actress. You don’t think you have the kind of beauty filmmakers seek out for their lead roles. Hell, if anything, Jungkook would be a better fit for an acting gig.

“You are,” he insisted, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “To me, you’re perfect.”

You smiled at him then, your heart fluttering by his words. “You are to me, too.”

It was shortly after that conversation when you both decided to date each other exclusively. And it felt like the kind of romance you’d see in the movies. Picture perfect, a little corny at times, and a thrilling whirlwind of laughter, teasing remarks, and intimate touches.

“Am I who you thought I’d be?” Jungkook asks you the next morning after the movie-night bust, propping himself up on the side and peering down on you. His arm flexes, colorful ink decorating it, as the thick comforter wraps around his bare body.

“No,” you confessed, still a bit tired from last night. You keep your eyes closed as you quietly murmur, “You’re even better.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t need to open your eyes to see the pleased look on his face. As you feel him press his lips against your cheek, you ask, “What about me? Am I who you thought I’d be?”

Had you opened your eyes then, perhaps you would’ve seen it. The blank look on his face as he pulls away from you, how the light in his eyes suddenly seems to vanish, as if he isn’t really looking at you anymore.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you right away. When you open your eyes, you see him shaking his head. The same, sweet boyish smile appears on his lips.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

The topic about exes inevitably came up early on in your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve dated casually before. Even thought you’d be getting somewhere with some of the guys you were talking to.

But none of them quite compared to Kim Taehyung.

You were a film student. He was a photography major. The two of you were bound to end up in some of the same classes together in the art division.

To you, it was love at first sight. You fell for him so hard and so fast.

What started as bumping into each other at the library and helping each other with assignments led to making out at each other’s dorms with the text books left unopened. Coffee dates between classes became anniversary dinners at nice restaurants. He introduced you to his parents, and you proposed going on a romantic getaway together.

The day you didn’t think you’d ever love anyone else was when he snapped a photo of you looking out at the scenery during that weekend trip. It was just you and him, and a natural setting that looked straight out of a movie.

He smiled to himself as he looked at the picture through his camera. That day, he called you his muse.

And in return, you told him that you loved him.

When you fell for Taehyung, you fell hard and fast. Eventually, it occurred to you that Taehyung didn’t do the same.

Sure, he cared about you. Sure, he loved you. But while you heard wedding bells and dreamed about your future with him, Taehyung was just starting to put himself out there in the world. His art was being recognized, and he was getting booked to shoot at weddings, parties, and other big events every week.

Soon, the dates happened less frequently. The romantic gestures of bringing you flowers, surprising you on nice dates or small gifts, or even renting your favorite movies to watch together happened even less. He would promise that he’d make it to a party or an important event to you, just to let you down. And it felt like him giving you a bit of affection or attention was a chore.

Taehyung was the world to you, but the petty arguments and the distance that started growing between you two made it clear to you where his priorities were. And it wasn’t with you.

Breaking up with him was the hardest thing you had to do. Both of you knew it was coming. It was just a matter of who broke up with who first.

Just as Taehyung came into your life, quickly and effortlessly, he was gone. Nothing but bittersweet memories of what once was and what could have been weighed heavily on you for months.

What made it worse was that Taehyung, a man you loved with all your heart, had moved on from you so fast and so easily.

You saw him and his new girlfriend at a mutual friend’s party. You were warned that he’d be there, that he was already seeing someone. But it still hurt like hell to see him happy and in love with another person.

But if Taehyung could move on, so could you.

It felt weird at first, but you started to put yourself out there again. You joined dating apps. You went out with the people that fancied your interest. You met Jungkook.

And from there, everything was history.

With Jungkook, you started to think about Taehyung a lot less. The plaguing “what ifs” have quieted down, and the hurt from heartbreak began to heal. With Jungkook, you started to feel like yourself again: you started to smile more, laugh more loudly, enjoy watching movies again, became passionate about cinematic ideas you’d like to create one day.

With Jungkook, you’re also cautiously optimistic.

Because like Taehyung, you feel yourself falling hard and fast for Jungkook. It’s almost scary how truly perfect he is.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Yoongi tells you, sliding into the chair opposite of you with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smells like freshly-baked cookies. A spot of flour stains his apron as he uses his fifteen-minute break to hang out with you.

“Maybe,” you sigh, gratefully taking the drink he hands you. “What do you think about him?”

“Does my opinion even matter at this point? You’re in love with him,” he drawls before taking a sip of his Iced Americano.

“Of course it does, best friend. Why else would I keep you around?” you remark, taking a sip of your own drink. “Besides the free coffee and cookies. Thank you, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. The perks of being friends with the cookie boy at your local bakery is a free cup of coffee and getting dibs on leftover treats that didn’t sell the day.

“He’s fine. Kind of annoying. A little too energetic,” he answers as his eyes flit toward the TV screen that his boss keeps on. A woman dressed in bright, business clothing holds a microphone as she reports on the recent news. There’s a grim look on her face.

You have your back turned to it, but you can hear Yoongi’s boss turning up the volume.

Breaking news. Missing woman found dead near home. The victim has succumbed to multiple stab wounds. It is believed that she has been kidnapped and tortured prior to her violent death. The attacker is currently unknown and still at large. Local authorities advise staying indoors and to please report any suspicious activity.

Your heart sinks as you look over your shoulder, seeing police taping off the crime scene and answering what they can to the news outlets. The location is so close to where you are.

“This is the second victim,” a customer mutters with a frown.

The person they’re with nods their head and asks, “Do you think they’re connected?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ll have a serial killer in our hands.”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls your attention. When you look at him, there’s concern on his face. “If you need a ride anywhere, make sure you call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

“I’ll be okay, Yoongi. Jungkook usually comes to my place anyway.”

“Still. Just let me know that you’re still alive when I check in, all right?” he says as he stares at the screen. You don’t blame him for being worried. As you follow his gaze, you see a picture of the latest victim of the ongoing case that has the whole town on edge.

This woman, like the others, kind of looks like you.

“If you’re with me, you have nothing to worry about,” Jungkook assures you, throwing a tennis ball as Bam hurriedly chases after it.

The two of you are at a park with his dobermann. Despite how scary it’s been lately with the news, it’s a nice day. Children are screaming and playing together on the playground as their parents watch them nearby. A group of teenage boys are playing basketball on the outdoor court. Middle-aged and elderly couples are paired up and are getting their daily steps in.

“My hero,” you joke half-heartedly, but you’re still a bit concerned. Yoongi being worried about you makes you feel paranoid.

Jungkook turns to you. He holds out his hand as Bam retrieves the ball and drops it for another throw. “I thought you weren't afraid of anything.”

“Movie-wise, I’m not. But this is different.”

Jungkook throws the slobbery ball again. Further this time as Bam barks happily and takes off. He takes a seat next to you on the park bench. “I can leave Bam with you when I have my evening shifts. He makes a good guard dog.”

He works as an editor and cameraman for a big content creator, which gives him lots of flexible hours to work on his projects when he isn’t busy filming. Since the beginning of autumn, his boss has been giving him evening work to film ghost-hunting videos and other spooky content for Halloween.

“That’ll be nice,” you reply with a small smile. The two of them have been coming to your place so often, it might as well be their second home.

From a short distance, Bam lies on the grass with the tennis ball by his paws. His tongue is out, needing a short break from running around, as he faces you and Jungkook. Even with other dogs and kids around, he’s very well-behaved.

Just as Jungkook tells you that he’ll get Bam, the sound of small, excited barks grab your attention. A familiar black and brown pomeranian approaches you like an old friend, wagging its tail and perking its ears up when it sees you.

Your heart nearly jumps when you recognize the dog.

“Tan!”

You know that voice. How could you not?

That deep, smooth baritone has haunted you for months.

Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend, stops in his tracks when he realizes why his pomeranian took off. The two of you were still together when he adopted Yeontan, and you were there to help raise him when he was still a puppy.

“Who’s this?” Jungkook asks, drawing your attention back to him. He reaches out to pet Yeontan, but the pomeranian growls at him. Almost like he wants to protect you from him.

“Sorry, he’s mine,” Taehyung apologizes, stepping closer to you two and picking his dog up. He looks at you as he tries to soothe the agitated Yeontan in his arms. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you reply politely. Old feelings start to pull on your heart strings that you fervently try to ignore. “I’m good.”

“You look good,” Taehyung starts, but then he purses his lips in regret. It’s obvious that he’s nervous to talk to you. Maybe he feels the same as you.

Softly, you reply, “You do, too.”

“Who’s this?” Jungkook repeats. This time, there’s an annoyed look on his face as he stares at Taehyung.

It puts you off a bit. Jungkook is usually a friendly guy.

“Oh, this is Taehyung. We used to date,” you tell him honestly. Though, the information seems to just annoy him more. “Taehyung, this is—”

“I’m Jungkook. She’s my girlfriend now.”

His arm snakes around you possessively. He holds a steady gaze, but it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Dark, threatening, and angry. It’s almost unnerving.

“I see…” Taehyung trails off as his gaze shifts toward him. Yeontan is still in his arms, growling and barking at Jungkook. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the pup so aggressive toward someone. Even Bam comes over, ditching his ball to guard over you and Jungkook.

“It was nice to see you, Taehyung,” you tell him, sensing the tension in the air and deciding to cut things off. He seems reluctant to leave.

“Yeah…” he continues to trail off, finally pulling his gaze away to look at you. It looks like there’s a million things he wants to say to you. In a lower tone, he tells you, “My number is still the same. If you ever want to talk.”

You frown. After the breakup, you’ve deleted his number and unfollowed him on social media. “Oh, I don’t—”

“Then I’ll call you,” he promises, firm with his decision.

You don’t get it. You and Taehyung have run into each other after the breakup before, and he’s never had an issue with you dating anyone after him. He clearly has moved on, and so have you.

Why now?

What is it about Jungkook that has him worried for you?

“I don’t like that guy.”

Jungkook is still heated as he drives you home. His grip is tight around the steering wheel, and the tires screech when he makes a sharp turn. Bam stumbles a bit in the back before sticking his head out the window again.

“Slow down, Kook. You have nothing to be worried about.”

The radio blasts in the car, too much in a rush to connect his playlist to the stereo. It’s playing the week’s top music, and a catchy song from a popular artist fills the car.

Curious, you open your phone and check your followers. You’ve unfollowed Taehyung a long time ago on all your social platforms, finding it hard to look at any of his recent pictures – even just his scenic photography – without thinking about how he had once called you his muse.

But Taehyung never unfollowed you. He had always kept his inbox open for you.

“Did you see the way he was looking at me? It’s like he was looking down on me,” he continues to rant, speeding over a yellow light. He glances over at you and sees that you’re distracted with your phone. “I don’t like how you were looking at him either.”

“Are you serious?” you ask, turning your attention to him. “We barely talked. What the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

On the radio, the program is interrupted. One of the hosts makes a grim announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen, we just received unfortunate news that a third body has been found pertaining to a series of brutal deaths.

“You still love him! You’ll go back and leave me again!” he suddenly snaps, throwing you off guard.

Silence follows the tension.

Then, you inquire, “Again?”

The third victim is a young female. Hair color and eye color match the previous victims as well, indicating that this might be a targeted attack by the killer.

Not once have you been unfaithful to Jungkook. Even when you were starting to message each other, you weren’t talking to anyone else. The two of you haven’t even been dating that long.

“Forget I said anything,” he starts with a frustrated sigh. But he realizes he’s fucked up.

“No, I’m not just going to forget it. What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

As of now, authorities have no leads on a suspect. All victims have been kidnapped, tied up, and tortured prior to their deaths. We are led to believe that this is the work of a potential serial killer.

He nearly slams to a stop. The seatbelt around you yanks you back from hitting the dashboard. Bam falls to the floor and you gasp as the back of your head hits your seat.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, but for the first time, it feels like the rose-tinted glasses you have on him have fallen off. He’s always been perfect to you: sweet, athletic, talented, and kind. But the Jungkook before you is someone completely different.

This Jungkook scares you.

Stay inside. Lock your doors. Call the police if you see anything suspicious. Be safe out there, folks.

“I told you to forget about it, didn’t I?” he asks through gritted teeth and a harsh look in his eye.

You nod your head, hands trembling a bit as you hold onto your vibrating phone. The screen shows an unknown number trying to contact you.

“Is there a reason why your boyfriend called me?” Yoongi asks you from the other line. He has you on face-time, awkwardly propping up the camera to show his elbow as he mixes a batch of cookies.

It’s been about a week since you saw Jungkook.

After he dropped you off at home, he wanted to put it all behind him. He kissed you sweetly and murmured apologies for overreacting as his hands slipped under your shirt. But you sent him home before he could convince you to sleep with him. You were still upset about how hostile he was toward Taehyung, his accusations about you, and what his outburst meant.

That hasn’t stopped him from trying to get back to your good graces, though.

The number of missed calls from him keeps increasing by the hour. Ones that you leave unanswered or send straight to your voicemail.

You don’t want to talk to him.

At your door, you hear him rapping his knuckles against the wooden frame and insistently ringing at your doorbell. From the other side of the door, he begs for a chance to explain.

You don’t want to see him.

Clearly, after reaching you directly hasn’t worked, he’s starting to contact your friends.

“He’s probably trying to find me,” you tell Yoongi, poking at a bowl of fresh strawberries. You’re still dressed in your pajamas, sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter.

The sound of a small dog can be heard in the background of your line. It dawns on him that you’re not at your place or Jungkook’s.

Yoongi is silent for a moment. Then, he grabs the phone and asks, “What do you mean? Where are you?”

You don’t feel safe in your own home. And that day, while you were in Jungkook’s car, Taehyung called to check up on you. He was always good at reading people, and he warned you that he had a bad vibe about Jungkook.

And you’re starting to see what he meant.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

When you turn your phone, you reveal Taehyung busy in the kitchen, cutting off the crusts from his sandwiches. He looks over his shoulder and gives a sheepish smile at the scandalized expression on your best friend’s face. “Hey Yoongi.”

“Can you please explain what’s going on? Why are you at your ex’s?”

So, you do. You tell him that Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone, that you needed some space to cool off but he wouldn’t let you breathe. It was becoming overbearing and overwhelming.

Against your better judgment, you call Taehyung. He invites you to stay over at his place until you’re ready to talk things out with Jungkook. Because even if you’re not together, he still cares about you. Because a part of him will always love you. And at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

“I didn’t want to be alone, especially with a killer targeting women like me out there,” you explain quietly. It feels like the murders have increased in a shorter period of time. If the town wasn’t on edge before, they certainly are now. “But I was still mad at Jungkook, and he was starting to scare me.”

“So the first person you go to is your ex-boyfriend?”

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

That ship has sailed. You know it has when you walked in and saw his engagement pictures hanging on the wall.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m sure he would’ve figured out that I’d be with you,” you tell him with a frown.

“I just wanted to help her, hyung,” Taehyung adds as he stands behind you. “I worry about her too. That guy gives me and Tan a bad feeling.”

Yoongi sighs. “Listen, I don’t think this is a good idea either. You shouldn’t stay with Taehyung. It’ll just make things look a lot worse.”

“I guess you’re right,” you reluctantly agree. Taehyung grimaces, but he can see Yoongi’s point too.

“I’ll pick you up after my shift. You can stay with me until you’re ready to talk to Jungkook,” Yoongi tells you, looking rather serious. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime, okay?”

Hey. It’s Jungkook.

You stare at the message on your phone. Three dots that indicate that he’s typing something, but he keeps erasing and re-typing them again. As if he’s trying to properly convey his words.

Are we breaking up?

You stare at that message even longer. It feels childish to break up with him without trying to talk to him. For the first time in a week, you pick up your phone and type back.

You scared me, Kook.

His response is immediate.

I thought you weren’t scared of anything.

You huff when you realize he’s teasing you, even now.

Movie-wise, I’m not. But this. This is different, Kook. You were really scaring me.

Again, you see the dots appear and disappear before a handful of responses appear.

I know, babe. I’m sorry. Can you please come over? I want to show you something I’ve been working on.

You think about it.

I miss you. Bam misses you too.

Yoongi said not to do anything stupid.

Please, baby. We can just watch a movie, if you want.

But, like in every horror movie, the protagonist finds themselves making a plethora of stupid decisions.

Okay, Kook. I’ll come tonight.

Movie nights with Jungkook was one of the things you always looked forward to throughout the week. Nothing appealed to you more than a night-in with your boyfriend, food delivered at your door, and checking out new shows and movies.

You have your list of favorites, but nothing quite holds a place in your heart than a good ol’ horror movie. Tellings of urban legends, supernatural forces, paranormal activities, true crime, and slasher films.

As you step into Jungkook’s house, it almost feels like you’re in one of those movies.

His place is dark, almost pitched black. You could barely see what’s in front of you.

“Come inside,” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand. He pulls you in and deadbolts the door behind you.

“It’s so dark,” you remark, gingerly stepping forward. You have a bad feeling about this. You almost pull back toward the door, thinking of waiting for Yoongi or going back to Taehyung instead.

But Jungkook has a firm grip on you. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“This is different, Kook,” you try to reason. “You’re really freaking me out.”

He pulls you further inside. In the living room, nothing but the TV is on. The screen is paused on a homemade film.

This must be the project that Jungkook is talking about.

Everything is set. The living room is clean, a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of alcohol sits on the coffee table, the lights are off, and the show is ready to play. He sits you down in the middle and keeps an arm around you.

“You know, when we met, you were exactly what I was looking for,” he starts as he presses play.

The tape shows you. Bam lying on your lap as you affectionately pet his face and kiss the top of his head. You, holding Jungkook’s hand and leading him down a busy sidewalk. You, in the kitchen, trying to swat his hand away as he steals your ingredients. You and Jungkook, peering into the camera lens, and your bashful face as he kisses your cheek.

A smile tugs on your lips as you watch yourself on the screen. Jungkook leans over, copying his onscreen self and kisses your face.

One thing you liked about filming is seeing things from a different perspective. In this case, seeing yourself through Jungkook’s eyes. You look so happy, so incredibly in love with him.

Like with Taehyung, you fell for Jungkook hard and fast.

But Jungkook fell for you harder and faster.

Your smile fades as the next scene shows.

The camera points to the bed, and a couple walks in. It’s you and Jungkook, stumbling in together after drinks at a bar. You’re laughing and trying to wrap your arms around him as he leads you onto the bed. The kiss you share is messy, heated. You tug off his clothes to feel more of him.

You remember that night, but…

“Jungkook. When did you record this?”

You had no idea he was filming you then.

You don’t realize it then, but he makes eye contact with the camera, as if to check that it’s on. He maneuvers you to get a good angle of your body as you busy yourself with your own clothes, wanting him to touch you more as well.

“Jungkook, stop. I didn’t—”

You feel so sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, baby. Here, I’ll fast-forward.”

But you don’t want to watch anymore. You want to leave. You shouldn’t have come here.

The screen shows you and Yoongi. The two of you are at the bakery he works at, and you’re wearing an old cardigan that you got rid of . You smile and eagerly reach for one of the coffees in his hands and take the bag of cookies he’s holding between his lips. He rolls his eyes at something you say before he takes his first sip of his Iced Americano. It’s a typical hangout between you and him.

It looks like it was taken across the street. Your heart plummets even further when you realize that the old cardigan you’re wearing was a piece of clothing you got rid of before you met Jungkook.

The scene changes. You’re sitting at the fountain at your university, looking over a script you wrote for an assignment. Taehyung comes to take a seat next to you. He greets you with a boxy smile and a kiss. The two of you were still dating at the time.

How long has Jungkook known about you?

How long has he been targeting you?

It’s you and Taehyung again. This time, it was filmed from the other night. When Taehyung came to pick you up from your house. He helps you carry some of your things into his car and hugs you when he sees the distressed look on your face.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?”

It dawns on you that you don’t really know your boyfriend at all.

You try to stand up, but Jungkook has a firm hold on you. His grip tightens when you try to resist him, and his hand seizes your neck as he pushes you down. Your heart hammers against your ribs when you quickly realize you can’t escape him. Jungkook is much stronger and faster than you are.

More images flash through the screen. It’s Jungkook this time, taking a mirror-selfie of himself dressed in all black. He has his hood up and a Halloween mask covering his face.

It cuts to his feet walking across the sidewalk. Carefully, the camera tilts up, showing that there’s a woman just ahead of him. She’s about your height, her hair the same as yours. She doesn’t notice him as she listens to music playing in her earbuds.

The scene cuts again, and the same woman is bound and gagged on a chair. Fear shines through her eyes as a shadow of a knife reflects from her body. Behind the camera, Jungkook demands, “Say your line.”

He removes the gag from her mouth. Her voice pitches in a high shrill as she quickly says, “I-I love you. I won’t leave you.”

You recognize her as the latest victim of the latest killings.

And the realization hits you like a truck. Jungkook and his night shifts, the increasing deaths, his interest in filming, having you as the star.

“I practiced, you know. I’ll get it right this time,” he tells you, pulling out some rope he had hidden behind the cushion. You’re trembling as he wraps them tightly around your wrist. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave me again.”

“You’re so bad,” the Jungkook on the screen says, showing what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It’s dimly lit, but you can hear someone running from him. But he doesn’t seem worried, his heavy footsteps casually echo across the concrete. In his hand is a sharp and bloody knife. Mockingly, he asks, “Where did you think you’d go?”

The victim has been let go, but she isn’t free. Ahead, she finds herself cornered as Jungkook catches up to her. Terrified, she holds her hands out in front of her, as if that would stop him.

It’s like seeing your own fate on the screen.

The woman begs and screams before her blood splatters across the floor. You find yourself quoting her, staring up at his darkened eyes. “No, please. Don’t hurt me.”

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, staring right at you. His mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

#movie night os #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #yandere jungkook #bts horror #jungkook horror #halloween 2023 #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic

1K notes · View notes

molinaskies · 8 months

Text

What We Get Wrong About Dark Sonic

I find Dark Sonic incredibly interesting.

I’ve said this before, but Dark Sonic represents an overflow of Sonic’s negative emotions, the ones he usually suppresses: anger, sadness, and fear.

However, many people believe that Dark Sonic is somehow a betrayal of Sonic as a character (even Ian Flynn, reportedly, but I’ve yet to see an official source). Sonic is meant to be a beacon of optimism. Sonic is meant to be the pillar of hope when all else fails. Sonic is meant to be the last one standing, no matter what.

In this sense, sure, Dark Sonic contradicts the notion that Sonic is “uncorruptable,” but I think that depends on how we define corruption.

I see it two ways:

1) Corruption by way of losing faith, through dishonesty and fraud. 2) Corruption by way of a forceful shift from one state of being to another.

In the first sense, corruption occurs when someone’s paradigm is shifted through lies, cheating, or manipulation. It’s a conscious mental shift. In the second sense, corruption occurs when something (or someone) is co-opted and changed without its will or influence, like data corruption, or a shift in the meaning of a word or image. It’s a literal, physical and/or metaphysical shift.

There’s a saying that floats around the fandom that says, “Shadow is just ‘Sonic, if Sonic had one really bad day’,” and I think that makes sense. Shadow is jaded and cynical because of how the world has hurt him, but he still wants to do right by people—just like Sonic. What separates Sonic from Shadow, however, is Sonic’s tenant optimism and positive paradigm. Without those differences, Sonic has endless reasons to be as cynical as Shadow, or even more so.

So, Sonic doesn’t let himself feel those feelings for very long, and especially not when other people are around. He pours everything into a clean, neat bottle, with a tight screw-on cap, right?

What happens when something tampers with that bottle?

Dark Sonic is a forceful corruption of body but not of mind. Let’s talk about it.

How Dark Sonic Works

What I think people misunderstand most about Dark Sonic is that it’s not an intentional state of being. It never was.

Dark Sonic is the polar opposite to Super Sonic, which is achieved when Sonic harnesses the positive energy of the Chaos Emeralds. If Sonic wanted to harness the power of the emeralds for the wrong reasons and his heart accessed the negative energy rather than the positive, he could possibly bring about Dark Sonic willingly. This, however, would likely never happen because that is the betrayal of Sonic’s character that everyone worries about.

That said, the only reason Dark Sonic ever appears is because of a mix of Sonic’s pure rage over Black Narcissist physically assaulting Chris and Cosmo and the presence of hundreds of the Metarex’s fake Chaos Emeralds, which possess an aura clearly shown to impact Sonic and make him ill.

Sonic’s first interaction with negative Chaos energy from the fake emeralds is filled with discomfort and even disgust. Sonic reacting to the negative Chaos energy poorly is critical, as it showcases that it’s seeking him out, not vice versa.

When Sonic was as triggered as he was, the negative energy from the fakes harnessed his emotions and corrupted him. It was a complete, freak accident.

This situation is very similar to Darkspine Sonic, the in-game equivalent to Dark Sonic from Sonic and the Secret Rings. Darkspine Sonic only surfaces when Sonic is severely triggered after Shahra starts to betray him, Erazor Djinn murders her (she sacrifices herself for Sonic), and he sees Erazor Djinn’s final form about to destroy the storybook world. In his shock and anger, the Secret Rings of Sadness, Rage, and Hate target him, painfully turning him into Darkspine Sonic. Once again, external energies corrupt him at the height of his emotional vulnerability.

Sonic never seeks out the negative energy of the Chaos Emeralds because his heart is good. When the negative energy seeks him out in such overwhelming waves, it corrupts his abilities, alters them, and pulls them out to play.

But—

If it’s simply a matter of fake Chaos Emeralds, then why can Sonic use Tails’ fake Chaos Emerald in Sonic Adventure 2 without any problems? I posit this to the fact that Tails might have a better understanding of the balanced nature of the Chaos Emeralds (in that they are powered by both good and evil), while Eggman and Dark Oak have only ever used (or desired to use) the Chaos Emeralds for evil.

Recall Eggman’s laser at the beginning of Sonic Unleashed and Perfect Chaos in Sonic Adventure. Both uses of the chaos emeralds drained them of their power—their negative power, that is. (Albeit through different means based on the lore of each game), Sonic is still able to restore and harness the emeralds’ power because he relies on the positive energy of the emeralds. As intelligent as he is, I imagine that Eggman (as well as the Metarex) has a hard time replicating the intricate nature and balance of the Chaos Emeralds because their hearts are filled with hatred and turmoil, so unwilling to heed the perspectives of others. The power is there, sure, but not the heart.

~Chaos is power. Power is enriched by the heart~

Tikal's Prayer

I think the difference between Tails’ fake emerald and every other fake emerald we’ve seen in canon is marked by the fact that both Eggman’s and the Metarex’s fakes disintegrate after excessive use (i.e., Chaos Control), but Tails’ fake remains intact.

The Metarex's emerald disintegrates upon excessive use

Eggman's fake emeralds can't hold their form upon excessive use

Tails' fake emerald is intact and ultimately used to stop the Eclipse Canon from firing

In short, Tails’ emerald is simply a better fake, more accurate to the originals.

also, I refuse to talk about how dumb it is that Sonic was able to use a fake Chaos Emerald to do Chaos Control for the first time. However, it is canon, and therefore relevant to my point.

Another key problem cited in Sonic X is just how many fake emeralds there are. One emerald pales in comparison to hundreds. Sonic feels all the latent negative energy consume him because that energy is a corruption, itself.

It’s not that Sonic gets so angry that he just gives in to darkness, it’s that darkness captures him when he’s in extreme emotional distress and his guard is down. Dark Sonic is the result of negative, unstable, potent Chaos energy clinging to him, using his latent Chaos powers as a vessel when he least expects it and, thus, is powerless against it.

I think I can best prove this by contrasting Dark Sonic with Sonic’s other intimate encounter with darkness…

Sonic Unleashed, Dark Gaia, and the Werehog

I’ve spoken at length about this game and this specific scene, already, so kindly forgive my hyper-brief summary this time around!

When Dark Gaia’s “weight issues” cause its essence to disperse around the globe, many people fall influence to Dark Gaia’s despair, losing faith and hope in the world. Nothing like the influences of Chaos energy, but enough of an influence that much of the world feels it. A core aspect of the game’s plot is that Sonic, distinctly, does not. In the cutscene No Reason, Sonic asks Chip why he stays the same despite the darkness inside his heart while so many others change at night. Chip answers simply, saying that Sonic’s too strong to lose himself and that part of his good will is because he never doubts himself, even when he’s on his own.

The difference is that while Sonic undergoes a physical transformation, he never loses faith or gives up hope—made especially clear by the fact that Professor Pickle, once as hopeful as Sonic, eventually does lose hope.

Also key to note that Amy also never loses hope.

Unleashed is just another fun, high-stakes adventure for Sonic; there’s never a moment where he’s aggressively triggered by something or when his personal morals are ever tainted. Irritated, maybe. Flustered, even. Never at a loss. The closest we see Sonic come to this is when he loses the werehog form to Dark Gaia before the final battle. He falls to his knees, worn and exhausted, and tells Chip to run because he doesn’t want him to get caught up in the mess. Yet even then he’s not giving up.

That’s why Sonic’s heightened emotional state is so important to the conversation. When Sonic’s will is intact, he’s much stronger, but when he’s triggered by something and his defences are down, it’s much easier for corrupting forces around him to take hold.

Mind over Matter

Even with the parameters for Dark Sonic’s appearance established, something that stands out to me about Sonic’s encounters with dark energies, and something I see as additional evidence that Dark Sonic is only a literal, physical corruption and not a corruption of his paradigm, is that Sonic is still in control of himself—to an extent.

Even as he seethes in his amplified rage, Dark Sonic never inflicts harm on the innocent. After Gold and Silver are destroyed, it’s not expressly clear if Sonic intends to stop or fight Black Narcissist, but Eggman implies that Sonic was fighting Gold and Silver until there was quite literally nothing left. Sonic was given a target to attack, and he kept his focus there, even when other enemies presented themselves.

This also goes for the Werehog and Darkspine Sonic.

He also has the mind to listen to reason—from Eggman, of all people—and stop when it’s clear that he’s finished what he set out to do. Sonic channels his anger to where it needs to be, and it’s clear that Sonic’s moral code and paradigm on life are thoroughly intact.

The only thing that changes is that he’s no longer imposing his usual limits. Sonic is stupidly powerful, even without any power ups. If he ever wanted to kill Eggman, he would have by now. If he ever wanted to kill anyone, he would have by now (and technically, he has).

Sonic throws Erazor Djinn's lamp into a pit, never to resurface, effectively trapping him and ending his livelihood indefinitely.

However, Sonic holds back because he doesn’t want to be an arbiter of justice—he doesn’t want to deprive someone’s chance to be good unless it’s been clear that they cannot be redeemed.

Why I Care About This

It is no secret that I believe that Sonic is a highly emotional character—far more emotional than many give him credit for. It bears repeating that Sonic’s emotions are very big and can be cataclysmic when left unchecked…

…but that’s just part of growing up—growing up as a hero and, damn it, even just a kid.

Dark Sonic isn’t a case of Sonic giving himself to darkness, nor is it a perversion of Sonic’s character. It’s an energetic, chaotically-charged version of Sonic when he is at his angriest—and even then it’s not enough to change his morals or make him lash out unjustly.

Dark Sonic is cathartic, in a way, and I definitely think it deserves its place in canon.

2K notes · View notes