#Intoxicating fear

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (Prologue)

Master-Post // Chapter one

Oh yeah, we're doing prequels now baby... just a little extra chapter for IF fans, I am working on the redraft atm and I hope you accept this as an apology for the absurdly long wait... but it shows the new route that IF is taking, with more plot and character development... whaaattt crazyyy

Also sorry for all the spam, I need another place to ramble for all my thoughts instead of here... if only twitter still existed, sigh...

*~*~*~*~*

Atlas ducked as another ball of flame was hurled at his head. He could feel the heat of the fire as it roared over his head and past his wall of refuge.

“Come out, come out little hero. I promise I won’t burn you alive, maybe scorch you a bit. Scars build character, Atlas, or are you too young to know that yet?”

Atlas huffed, his ears straining to hear when the stream of fire lessened over the villain’s stupid monologue. Too young to know about scars? What a dick. Atlas waited for the stream to burn out, listening as the roar from the fire-villain Arson lessened. The heat rippling in the air diminished as Atlas waited, before the absence altogether.

And then.

There.

Atlas vaulted the wall, clicking his fingers and relishing the familiar sound of cobalt electricity crackling around his hand, spreading up his arms to his shoulders. He sent one quick bolt of lightning towards Arson as he landed on his feet and kept running. The second one he aimed at Arson’s head.

His aim was perfect; Atlas didn’t have to check to make sure. He watched as the electricity touched the villain’s face and simmered away. Atlas’s eyes widened as the villain laughed, his mouth lighting up like a jack-o-lanterns on Halloween. “Uh-oh Atlas... My turn.”

Atlas was too slow. He was too slow in moving to get out of the way and he saw the flames coming and he was too slow. He was going to burn. He may even die. No.

The wind was knocked out of him as he felt someone barrel into him just before the flames hit him and drag him behind the safety of an alley.

Archangel panted slightly, a smile on his face. “You were too slow.”

“My electricity doesn’t work with him,” Atlas replied mutinously, glaring at his hands, his traitorous fingers curled into fists. He was too slow. “I didn’t – I froze…”

“I saw.”

“Where’s Tempest when you need her?” Atlas asked, wishing the water hero was here to douse out the fire villain. He could hear the sirens in the distance, no doubt the fire trucks and police finally on their way here.

“Are all the civilians cleared?” Archangel asked. Atlas nodded.

“Yeah, I got ‘em out before he started burning down the entire block.”

Archangel nodded, pressing his back flush against the brick wall. He tucked his giant, white-speckled wings in tight so they wouldn’t be exposed to Arson’s attacks. “Good. Then we can wait him out.”

Atlas’s eyes widened, head snapping to his boss. “Wait him out? He’s going to destroy every building if we wait!”

Archangel threw his hands up. “What do you want me to do? Hmm? Your electricity doesn’t work, and I can’t get to him without at least a distraction or back-up.” Archangel muttered, his wings flaring in irritation. “We want to keep casualties to a minimum. It’s not always about catching the bad guy.”

“Stop speaking to me like I’m your sidekick,” Kit hissed. “I know it’s about saving people, but the emergency responders are coming now. We have to stop Arson or at least incapacitate him before they come.”

Archangel stared at Kit for a long time, and for a moment his gaze softened behind his mask. “God, I’ll never escape Noble with you around,” he grumbled fondly. Kit smirked at the number one hero.

“Not a chance,” he replied. Atlas scanned the alley they were in. It wasn’t closed off at the end, the grey concrete floors and walls led to a corner at the back into another alley. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You slip behind the building and fly up and tell me when you’re on the roof. Then I’ll step out and distract him and you can attack from above.”

Archangel nodded. “You’re right. Nobody ever looks up.”

Atlas pressed himself into the wall as Archangel passed him, wings tucked in as he disappeared around the corner.

“Have I frightened you, little hero?” Arson yelled. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of prodigy?! Noble’s apprentice, right?”

Kit’s blood ran cold at the mention of his Mentor. He remained silent as he waited for Archangel’s confirmation he was in position. The hero had wings, what was taking him so bloody long?

“You are, aren’t you?” Arson cooed, a smile in his words. God, Kit wanted to punch him in his mouth until he choked on blood, until he couldn’t speak anymore. “The original hero and see how far he’s fallen. Hmm? Tell me, what does he spend his days doing now? Wiping drool from his chi–”

Kit burst from behind the wall, moving with the improved currents in the night air, and before Arson could get a stream of fire off at him, Atlas’s fist already connected with the villain’s jaw, and they went down.

“Atlas! Shit,” Archangel muttered through his earpiece, but Kit didn’t care. He couldn’t use his lightning alone to hurt the Villain, so instead he charged his muscles with it, using it to make his punches harder, to enhance the impact, the pain.

Arson’s head whipped to the side and straightened, and Kit punched him again and again and again, until Arson couldn’t move his head back; until blood splattered across Kit’s skin that was visible through his fingerless gloves, pinpricking the flesh with vermillion speckles. A flurry of wings and wind, but Kit didn’t get off Arson. Not when he knew he was down. Not when he knew he wouldn’t harm anyone tonight again, at the very least. Not until he felt hands on him, fingers digging in.

“Atlas. Atlas. Atlas!” Archangel yelled, grabbing Kit by the arms and dragging him up.

“Wipe the drool off your own chin now, motherfucker,” Kit growled as Archangel pulled him away from the fire villain. Archangel spread his wings wide, shielding the villain from Kit’s wrathful gaze, forcing the young hero to look at him.

“What the hell was that, Atlas?”

Kit pulled free of Archangel’s hold, just in time as a bullet whizzed right where Kit was standing not two seconds ago. Once again, the breath was stolen from his lungs as Archangel grabbed him and shot backwards, away from the unseen shooter. No doubt Arson’s accomplice. Shit… can this night get any worse?

When they were successfully shielded from the shooter, a few bullets going wide, their radios cackled to life, scratching and cracking and behind it a voice. “—the old…” Both Atlas and Archangel leaned into the walkie talkie, ears straining to make out the choppy voice. “by the ferris…”

More interference cut the rest of the sentence off, but Kit and Archangel’s eyes met over the receiver. That was Tempest. Kit flinched as a bullet almost grazed his ear as it shot by and made a circular shaped dent in the concrete.

“Another Attack—”

Kit stood up. Archangel stared at him. “I’ll go.”

“No—”

“I’m useless here anyway,” Kit protested. “Tempest needs me. If I can help her, at least I’ll feel like I’m not completely useless.”

Archangel’s eyes softened. “How many lives did you save today? Hmm? Do you think saving people is useless?”

Kit waved Archangel away. “You know what I mean. I’m restless anyways, helping Tempest will help me calm down at least. Update us when this is clear.”

Kit met the fire trucks and ambulances as he rounded the corner, heading south towards the old pier. Tempest said it was next to the old Ferris wheel, and luckily there were only two Ferris wheels in the city, the old one by the pier which had been closed for years now, and the new one they moved up town, closer to the wealthier district. The pier became the shipping docks and people got tired of seeing crates being hauled in when they were trying to have a romantic date.

The old fairground was only a few streets from where Kit and Archangel were fighting, and with Kit’s abilities, and the amount of static charge in the night air he was able to propel himself faster than an athletic civilian. Though nowhere near as fast as Blitz whose power was super speed, or Crowe who could travel through any shadow, but still. Kit enjoyed the wind on his face, the power in his veins almost singing as he turned down a street and saw the Ferris wheel on the old fairground come into view.

His radio crackled to life again. It was Tempest her voice quieter now.

“Atlas… no, all heroes, stay away,” she whispered, the signal better the closer Kit got to her location. “Stay away from the old pier. I think…” Tempest cut herself off with a gasp, static crackling as Atlas pumped his legs faster. He never heard Tempest so scared in his life. “I think this villain is Omen.”

And it was as if all the wind had been stolen from him, ripped away in an instant. His power stuttered in his limbs, and he almost tripped over himself with how quickly his electricity cut out of his limbs like an old engine sputtering and spitting to a stop. The rails outside the fairground ticket booth acted as the final breaks as Kit ran into them, his heart thundering in his ears, the waves echoing back his terrified heartbeat to him.

Omen. Omen… Omen was a ghost story, he wasn’t… he wasn’t an active Villain anymore. The only time he… God, Kit wanted to be sick. The only attack Omen was known for was his fight with Noble. Noble’s final fight that ensured he never worked again. That he didn’t even get to remember his own name sometimes, that he would be left, stuck, in a prison of his own mind.

“Atlas…” Kit’s earpiece cackled to life, the sound of bullets and wind in the background as Archangel spoke to him. “Don’t go there. Wait for back up. Do not face Omen, do you understand me?”

Kit’s eyes narrowed into a glare as he surveyed the wooden boardwalk. “Atlas! God damn it, for once just listen to me. I am your superior. Noble wouldn’t want you to–”

“Noble doesn’t want anything anymore,” Kit replied, voice cold. “Omen saw to that.”

“Atlas!" He heard Archangel curse over the receiver. "Damn it, Kit! Don–”

Kit unhooked the wire from his earpiece and turned off his walkie talkie. This wasn’t about helping Tempest, or Archangel, or his helpless restlessness anymore. No, this was personal. Kit jumped the railing onto the boardwalk, before he could talk himself out of it. His body screamed at him to wait, to fall back, but he couldn’t. He refused.

For Omen to appear one night, as if out of the woodwork itself… that wasn’t a coincidence, and it wasn’t a coincidence that Kit happened to be on patrol so close to him either. Despite his fear threatening to choke him, and his limbs feeling a little lighter from exerting his power, Kit continued down onto the boardwalk, scanning the kiosks and listening for sounds of a fight between Omen and Tempest over the waves lapping against the rocks below.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[Sorry if you got tagged, I went through every part to make sure the tag-list was up to date, so if you want to be removed please lmk!!! Okay thank youuuuu]

Tag-list [lmk if you wanna be added/removed}: @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts

@whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @theauthorintraining @izzygraney @mis-graves @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dreaming-awayy @mononeigbour @notactuallyluska @stefaniesblogs @lindsay00000008 @xenlust @mj-or-say10

@honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @blood-enthusiast @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @whump-till-ya-jump @whumplicity @bluzluna

@acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie @jesterrinobutter @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @dutifullykrispyland @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep

[xxmiixyxx]

Fanart for @oprhan

I insanley love your intoxicating fear series girlie !!!! Like it’s totes my absolute fav story to reread !! Genuinely can’t wait to see what happens next like I hope hero/kit gets justice one dayyy 😭😭

[intoxicating-goddess]

TW - intox, somno, cnc, forced breeding

We're talking on a video call like we usually do in the evenings. I'm smoking a bowl to help wind down for the night. When I finish, you suggest I might want to do another. I've been really stressed out lately, it'd be helpful to have a little more, you tell me. I have been stressed lately, why not? I fill another bowl half way, but you convince me to make it another full one. After I'm done the second bowl, you can see how faded I am. I tell you that the weed is hitting me really hard and I think I'm gonna go lie down. You wish me well and say goodnight. I stumble through the house in a stoned haze, eventually making it into bed. I drowsily strip myself of my clothes before rolling over and falling asleep. I'm too deep in slumber to hear the door unlock. I gave you a spare key for emergencies, after all. You creep into my bedroom and see my naked body sprawled across the bed. You quietly take off your clothes and climb on top of me. Kissing your way down my back while running your hands all over my limp body. Feeling up my ass and tits and then finally, my pussy. I let out soft moans in my sleep. As you rub my clit and fondle my ass, I start to become wet. You then line yourself up with my slick entrance and ram your entire cock inside me. I wake with a scream, a concoction of panic and pleasure. As you begin violently thrusting, I try to get my bearings. My head is so dizzy and my body is so heavy. I let out a feeble scream as I try to resist, but it's no use. My body is far to weak and I can't put up a fight. I am pinned in place by the weight of your body on top of me. I have no idea who is inside me, but I can't seem to focus on anything but how good it feels. You lean down on top of me and begin grabbing at my breast. You pinch my nipple and I can't help but let out a moan. You chuckle softly between grunts, you know a filthy whore like me likes being used. Your thrusts are so hard and deep that it doesn't take long for me to cum on your cock. You continue to fuck me for what feels like hours. I am so out of it that I have no concept of time. I eventually let myself drown in the pleasure. It doesn't matter who is fucking me, the only thing that matters is how good it feels. After you've lost track of how many times you've made me to cum, you feel yourself get close. Your thrusts become faster and faster. You pull my hips hard against you, forcing your cock as deep into my pussy as possible. With a loud grunt, you let your load out inside me. You pull out and let my hips go, causing me to slump onto the bed. You watch as your seed seeps out of my throughly used pussy. You then put your clothes back on and leave, locking the door behind you. I lay in the wet patch knowing I should feel mortified, but instead I feel euphoric. Having my rapists seed pouring from my violated pussy turns me on all the more. It's not long before the exhaustion and intoxication lull me back into a deep sleep. I sleep well knowing my only purpose is to be a good cocksleeve. It doesn't matter if I'm conscious or not.

[dearcervus]

Getting you high and dumb before I examine you… keeping you all sweet and pliant. All sleepy and drugged up, so obedient and good for me. The edibles I gave you getting rid of all your anxiety and fear. There’s nothing to be scared of my love… you just get to feel all nice and floaty while I do my tests 🖤

[ahappydnp]

what's really hitting right now is how much we love the Real Life version of them.

idk know how to explain it but back when dan was gone and we hadn't seen them together in a long time, when i thought about them i envisioned the romanticized/timeline lore/grandiose fictional version of dnp? the whimsy and hope and beauty of it all

but the past few months have just been them as they are. that barrier is gone between us and it doesn't feel like we're witnessing a performance to react to, but being invited to exist in the same space as them.

they're real people who are more genuine than they've ever been and we love them even more and in a better way because of it. idk dude. i just genuinely love those two humans and it's truly a privilege to be let in and exist alongside them

[with-a-savior-complex]

benson getting randy so high that he goes non verbal and just talks in whines and grunts🩷🩷🩷

randy rubbing his face on bensons old tank top because the soft fabric just feels so good on his face

benson petting randy's hair and watching as randy starts to grind down into the mattress <333333

[starrie-eyed]

🍊🍊🍊

(they/them)

cishet men and minors dni

[pwuppyl0ve]

thinks abt like,,,, big sister or mom going to a club w her friends, leaving me at home because stuff like that isn’t for me (& it makes me anxious), telling me to just go to sleep n she’ll be back at home when i wake up <33 waking up a few hours later with her looming above me like a sleep paralysis demon, alcohol on her breath, hands groping me all over,,, <33 whispering sweet praises to me n telling me to be Good and just lie there so she can use me <33 yeah,,,, houhhhh

[enby-cuntboy]

its amazing how sleeping with my cunt stuffed makes me dream about being kept captive and used all the time <33 i woke up sore and started edging immediately

[kiwi-luminaryofthestars]

04/18/2025 Progress Update:

TLDR: 2K written, about 24.5K so far drafted for ch 6

Lord I actually got to sit down and write today, thank God. And we got past poker! A bittersweet victory, to be past poker. I don't know if it will properly come across in the fic, and that's okay because the experience was fun anyway, but I put a lot of thought, time, and effort into these poker rounds. Thus it's both a solemn and happy parting to be done with them.

Now, we're just finishing up the last parts of section 3. They are already written, we are just fleshing them out, connecting pieces. Then we'll do the same with sections 4 and 5 and we'll be good to edit!! Maybe this'll be done at an adequate time after all (I say while knocking on every piece of wood in my general vicinity lol).

Kokichi POV has been ahhhh hard but we're doing our best. I haven't done Kokichi POV since the very beginning of ch 4, so it's been a good like two months. I gotta get back into the swing of things, put my head into my best dude, what could he possibly be thinking? The answer is lots of things and mostly self-deprecating, because I can't resist making him hate himself in anything I write. But I think I honestly just make every character hate themselves, which is... sad, but I do feel that from a lot of DR characters in general. Maybe it's just my interpretation, but it seems so few DR characters actually like who they are. And GOD that's relatable, so here I am making them all have this deep-seated hatred of themselves.

Sometimes I hope I don't come across like I hate the characters when I write like that because I AM OBSESSED WITH THEM so... could never ever ever hate them lmao. I just like making them have inner turmoil because it's relatable and interesting. I'm also very "story-first", as I'm sure you've now guessed, so I like giving characters struggles that directly correlate with where the plot is going. Like Shuichi's alcoholism is a core component of this fic and so is Kokichi's self-hatred. Characteristics that drive what they do and how they act in certain situations. This fic's plot would not continue if neither of these things existed.

Ahhh maybe that was a little self-indulgent and pretentious. Apologies, I've had a bit of whiskey in me lmao. But I'm excited to continue, excited to have ch 6 and 7 out. I do think I'll probably take another small break after 7 to write a one-shot, or maybe do the second chapter of the vampire one. We'll see. I've been getting so many ideas lately, which is... really abnormal for me. I tend to not have many ideas, but in talking with friends and hashing out scenes, it's like... I suddenly have so many I want to write one day. Double-edged-sword for sure, because it is both delightful to imagine and also a little stressful to think about lol.

Anyway, Jesus this is long. I'm glad I do those summaries at the top because this is like... a lot of rambling lmaoooo. Well, it's mostly for me, so I'm gonna be kind to myself. I want to one day have all of this for me to read back on and see what I was thinking when I wrote certain chapters. It's fun!!

I hope you all have a lovely lovely night. I send all the good vibes out to anyone reading. This weekend will be absolutely demolished by us, squashed like a bug. Have a goodnight!!

[cowbutchranch]

uhhhh

goin out tonight with the homies and also new homies and I decided to have a lil drinky drink bc for some reason alcohol takes multiple hours to affect me lately so uh. anyways. I make my lil drink thats at least a double, and then my nephew calls me over to help him build a desk and I end up having 3 beers with him while also bringing my lil drink.

so I’m now 3 beers and at least a shot deep and am starting to feel with nice little buzz and I will also be drinking later and playing golf ohhhhhh boy

[eyeballplanets]

the thing is kyle being irish is important to me too. but not in the way that anyone else who says ‘what about his irish ancestry’ wants it to be. his mother teaching him irish isn’t value neutral. it’s a connection to a language with a political context. a language that colonial systems try to equate with violence, to bely that it is rooted in liberation. a language that has fought to survive, taught by a mother who in at least one origin was associated with a significant anti-colonial conflict.

it is not equal to his brownness, nor does it supercede it, the way some people talk about it. it is complementary to it, while also whole and significant outside of it. ireland is not a country without its racism and colorism. you don't need to look far to hear how it treats the people it considers othered. that its pop culture narratives propel immigrants of color who have succeeded tells a story of all the people of color who haven't. it’s why the white latino headcanons specifically rooted in his father being latino of irish descent particularly leave such a bad taste in my mouth—it matters that the irish superhero is also a man of color. he is specifically the son of immigrants. i care more how his story resonates with other people of color in similar spaces. i care about how the lone torchbearer is, no matter how you look at him, rooted in this kind of expression.

[bunnyboy-juice]

OH MY GDD I FORGOT TO TELL YALL MY WIFE CAME HOME YESTERDAY AND JUST. WOOP. PICKED ME UP LIKE NOTHING. AND THEN DID IT AGAIN LIKE 20 MINUTES LATER AGAIN LIKE NOTHING.

[yellowlikelemons]

Ok but what if i pathetically stumbled stoned into the small establishment you run at night? What if you locked me in the back room? Dumb puppy should be in a cell for its own good, clearly it's straying around the streets without care or purpose, right? What if it was a friday night? What if nobody but you were coming in the whole weekend?

[b0ygirlpuppy]

third night in a row i’ve taken melatonin and gone to bed at a reasonable hour, and the third night in a row i’m gonna fall asleep thinking about all the ways someone could violate me while i slept (difference this time is i’m going to bed knotted + filled with cum lube)

[dumbhungsubboy]

Learn my damages and emotionally manipulate me, slip things into the food and drink you make for me. I’m too dumb to think for myself. It’s for the best you keep me drugged and pliable. I’m nothing but a toy for you. You treat me like you love me but you know you only want to use me. I’m yours. Never let me sober up, be possessive, cut me off from anyone but you. Whittle my world down to you and you alone.