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i-am-become-a-name · 6 months

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December 6. Prompt: Proposition.

Tegan had started shaking beside him, jostling his elbow in a way most unlike the usual distance they kept from each other, and it was quite frustrating the interesting conversation the Doctor was attempting to have with one of the diplomats in the celebration they had stumbled into. It wasn’t cold, even for one of her impractical outfits, and for once, (he dreaded to think it for fear of the universe laughing at him) they didn’t seem to be in any active danger. The diplomat, rare for one of his breed, was fascinating, more interested in talking about what they had learned from the shared histories of the planets to move forward in earnest, rather than picking at and exaggerating the minor differences between their cultures. He turned his most foreboding look upon Tegan, who met his eyes and had to cover her mouth to conceal the grin that still peeked out from between her fingers.

“What?” he hissed, annoyed already by the fact she had insisted on sticking around for the conversation, unlike Adric and Nyssa who had wandered off, in respective order, to the buffet table and to examine the art hanging about the hall.

“Nothing wrong at all, Doc,” he made out from behind her fingers, and rare it was for her to not have a complaint of some kind, however trivial, but genuine amusement was creasing the corners of her eyes, and he did a brief pat down of his hair and coat, finding nothing amiss in his appearance. So where was this coming from? He frowned at her, and turned back to the diplomat who was watching them with an indulgent smile.

“Now, what were you saying about the treaty of Lindor before my friend rudely interrupted you?” His emphasis on ‘my friend’ did not go unnoticed by Tegan, who struggled to stifle a snort behind her hands, but the diplomat was looking pleased.

“Perhaps we could continue this conversation in my rooms, without the, ah, interruption.” He’d leant forward to put a hand on the Doctor’s arm, voice welcoming, but Tegan was positively quaking at his side now, and he opened his mouth to suggest perhaps she could find Nyssa to keep her company while he continued the conversation, but suddenly lost the ability to speak as a warm hand tucked itself into his, and a small frame leant itself against his free arm. He looked down in confusion at his companion, but her face was hidden by the frizz of curls tucked against his shoulder, so turned back as the diplomat took a step back, apologetically.

The diplomat looked disappointed, but suggested some titles where he could find further information on what they had been talking about in case he changed his mind and Tegan wobbled against his side. They parted with smiles, Tegan still tottering at his side as they walked away, and hidden by the crowd, pulled away from each other.

“Sorry for the ear-bashing he’s given you,” and the Doctor saw the diplomat mouth the words in puzzlement, but Tegan was bowling past any possible interruption, “but this galah has promised to muster the ankle-biters for tea.”

“Ah, quite,” the Doctor agreed, not understanding a single word beyond tea, but Tegan’s voice was assured, and the hand in his was clenching it quite speakingly, and he put his free hand over hers, patting it firmly, because he hoped to be able to use that hand in the future thank you.

‘“May I ask what that was?” and Tegan was bent over, hands on her knees and positively cackling. He gently pulled her away from the crowd against the wall and let her calm down.

“I, uhm, don’t think he was your type, Doc,” and- ah. She stood back up, still letting out the occasional snicker, but wiping the tears away from her gleeful eyes, her fingers coming away colourful with smudged makeup. “You’d still have missed it if he’d written it on a brick and thrown it through your window, wouldn’t you?”

“We were simply having an interesting conversation,” he protested, but that set her off again, pointing at him and giggling, and they were starting to draw attention.

“Cripes, Doc, you can be a drongo.” And why were they all speaking a different language all of a sudden? She patted his arm, but her face was still twisted in mirth. “Haven’t had anyone be that obvious since a friend’s hen, right smooth-talker there.”

She stepped away from him then, craning her head over the crowds to seek out Adric and Nyssa, and Australians. He would never understand them.

#this is thoroughly silly but it is 1:30 am and it was on my prompt list from last year so figure i should probably get around to it?#slowly catching up will hopefully be able to write two in the car tomorrow so I can be all caught up but fingers crossed since there'll be #3 y/o there too #fic #advent fic #five #tegan #slang wise - ear-bashing - chatting on and on and on. galah - fool. ankle biters - kids. tea - dinner #drongo - idiot.#ngl i am not australian i think nz slang differs a bit but really she should be calling him a good c- but that's a bit too rude for dw

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skrunksthatwunk · 6 months

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kinda drives me up a wall when people go "hey i think x action in a war/combat scenario is inhumane and cruel and shitty" and someone responds with "oh but within the laws of war it's allowed or there's procedure for it etc etc". it doesn't have to be a war crime to be unforgivable man it's a shitty rulebook anyway

#like whether or not something's bad isn't determined by whether or not it adheres to arbitrary rules people made up and never obey #i thought we all knew that already. c'mon man. get a grip #obviously war crimes are bad but that's not where the badness potential ends y'know #this post is due to my dad talking about smth i sent him mentioning US troops firing on a bunch of guys in smth on deserters and he was lik #well they're not like citizens or refugees or deserters they're retreating enemy combattants. so it's different.#it IS different but isn't it still like. overly brutal? idk.#like would you want them to pursue Your ppl regardless? are they not allowed mercy just because you proved stronger? your positions could #be swapped easily and you'd think that as fellow combattants you would feel that deeply. idk maybe i'm just too soft or whatever but like.#seems stupid to me. war generally seems stupid to me but this specifically right now seems stupid to me #yes i know there are practical concerns and sacrifices in combat that make sense when you're actually there and me saying there should be n #wars and we should make it a fucking priority to not have wars doesn't mean ppl already in a decision-making role in the field should do #what i (an idealist) would do. they're responsible for minimizing loss and shit. whatever. doesn't mean it's not fucked up anyway.#and that's assuming the best case scenario for a leader in such a position. usually they just want to minimize Their side's losses. usually #by maximizing the other side's. or they just want to win and will sacrifice anyone for it if it's practical #which happens a Lot. usually it's a mix of the latter two to my understanding #as if americans' lives matter more than anyone else's and the other side doesn't have a right to mourn bc they offended us somehow #ugh that shit irks me so bad dude. there'll be like a terrorist attack in europe or smth and the news'll be like #ONE AMERICAN WAS KILLED. and twenty swiss. THE AMERICAN WAS VISITING FAMILY THERE ON SUNDAY MORNING WHEN TRAGEDY STRUCK etc etc #fucking hate that. i don't care if they're on 'my team' or whatever they're all equally human and equally dead #why the hell should i care if one of them was an american. just say 21 people died. like i get reporting on it briefly ig to like notify #ppl At Best but like. it's so grating. why can't you be normal about other people fucking goddamn you #why is this a controversial statement. why is giving a shit about people killing each other (often for like 10 ppl's financial gain) wrong #like. come on. i don't care if they 'deserve it' or whatever because i don't think they do. and even if they Did i don't think it's #America's Time To Step Up!!! every time smth like this happens (but only when it is financially beneficial to us to do so #such that we ignore atrocities all the fucking time bc it's inconvenient. we're not superheros. we're cops.)#not saying america shouldn't do anything bc like. idk. you screw everyone over to have all the power maybe you should use that influence fo #good. but my definition of 'good' is wayyyy way different from everybody who's ever held office here apparently so like. nuts to that #eugh. anyway im cutting myself off here rant over. for now

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twsted-idiot · 2 months

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gonna draw Ghostface except y'all ain't know who it's supposed to be

#There'll be like. Slight differences between Stu and Billy just bc :3 who's who? You may never know #I might add sumn to Ethan's if I ever draw him

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coolrpblog · 1 month

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Sometimes killers are not born killers. Sometimes they are made into one as the world around them has failed them, betrayed them…

Klein unfortunately was the victim turned killer.

Having survived an attack that should have cost him his life, left the once jeweller. He wasn't able to go back to the life he had, unable to find the joy and passion he had. He couldn't even eat his comfort dishes without struggling to keep it down as well as eat it comfortably.

For one that survived so many stabs to the neck, it made it impossible to handle solid foods, let alone speak above a whisper without causing him to have a coughing fit that would lead to him coughing up blood.

But with the damage done, there was something in him that broke. Klein, whose father always talked on how he was like a sheep before the slaughter… was now a sheep with sharp horns to impale the wolves that try to bite into its neck.

A year would pass for his recovery before he would slay the wolves that killed what little he had left.

It was fall and the bodies were found in the park. Horribly mutilated, their entrails pulled from their bodies to put on display for all to see as if it was some work of ART… And decorated the cavities with Lycoris flowers... or better known as Spider Lily flowers.

That became the beginning of the Spider lily killer.

His nature is far more aggressive and will lash out at anyone, though when in the public eye he tries to blend into the shadows, not wanting to be seen anymore. Only when he kills does he find that spark of life again, that spark of joy that sets his life ablaze.

He used to hate the color red, now he loves it....

#🔪 • hc klein #🔪 • klein au dbd v2 #// i know this is a mess typing and im not gonna bother jhbgfjhknfv #tw murder #tw mutilation #// also if you get the reference hidden in this you get a cookie #// also me reviving a 10 year old verse i had for plum hahaha #// there'll be another post for killer plum btw #// to go into the weapon #// and how he looks as he does look vastly different from plum #//as he doesn't have the fractured soul attached to him

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martyrbat · 1 year

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Persuasion – Jane Austen

[TEXT ID: You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.]

#if tragedy has a face it'll be harvey dent's #thinking of him :(#thinking of bruce watching his best friend the public face of hope and justice and righteous determination be given up on by everybody else #thinking of harvey being aware of what hes doing and who hes becomed. how this wasnt his fate. this wasnt his destiny.#that his body is being used to commit the crimes he swore against and theres forever blood on his hands.#the first murder two face attempted was on harvey himself yet harvey clung on. he keeps batmans secret. he donates the money he steals #he'll forever be harvey dent. he'll never just be harvey dent. he doesnt know who harvey dent is and isnt anymore.#he still tries to do good. fighting a forever war with himself and where there'll never be a real winner.#he is the face of gotham in such a sense. batman is too but for two very different reasons. maybe one day ill shittily elaborate on it more #cryptcites #harvey dent #bruharvey

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bhalspawn · 1 year

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gonna see my brother who lives half way across the country this weekend but all im thinking about is getting home... 2 cyberpunk....

#gonna try to bring it up with different people to see if anyone wants to talk about it #my uncles throwing him an engagement party so there'll b a lot of people around #im a little worried about the open bar bc if i have just a little alcohol i might just shout ''JACKIE WELLES''#i may say ''preem'' out loud. this is a worry.#wytxt

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loverjpg · 8 months

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my birthday is on friday and i've not had a birthday party in years cause i've not had enough friends but this is the first year i'm celebrating again and every time i think about it i wanna tear up 🥺

#my new friend suggested i throw a party and i really needed that little push #and it's a small little gathering and i'm bringing together all the friends from different bubbles and it's gonna be weird at first #but there'll be six of us and i was soo surprised when i counted like.... huh. that's not too bad #and the guy i'm dating will be there too and my friend from home will get to meet him and :')#i'm so fucking grateful you guys. i've made some good friends this year #after having the loneliest two years of my life after returning home from studying a broad #i'm just. this is life baby #it's going to be so nice 🩷💗💖💕🩷💗💖#justine rambles

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ineveryfandom · 2 years

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Laying in bed, kicking, screaming, melting rusted sharp metal things bc i'm still salty about the ending.

You hook me w/ a show with all my fav tropes then end it like that?

#supernatural #spn #spnfandom #so mad at the ending #no i didn't cry i promise #it's been 2 years and i still haven't moved on #fucking sharp metal things #didn't even give him a chance to start his OWN family #literal there'll be peace when you are done #tears unwittingly roll down my face when i hear the words carry on my wayward son #it's hardwired in my brain #poor sam #he had to love a different dean winchester #mustve been hard #also poor cas #didn't even get a kiss after confessing #just got yanked in goo #ugh

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peachesofteal · 5 months

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Light On - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader - 18+ MDNI brief suggestive content, Christmas vibes (these characters do not celebrate Christmas religiously) 🎄 There'll be much mistltoeing / It's the most wonderful time of the year - for @glitterypirateduck's cod holiday challenge

"She's lovely." Laswell comments, standing at his shoulder in the living room.

"She is." He answers, but doesn't bother to look at her, too transfixed on you, watching the way you smile and laugh, champagne flute in one hand, baby in the other. Blood rushes through his body as he stares at you, marveling at how bloody good you look with the baby on your hip, and even though he knows it's an archaic mentality, he can't help but dream about giving you another. Kate gives him a smirk that he just barely catches from the corner of his eye, and he cuts her an exasperated look. "Excuse me."

"By all means."

He makes his way to your side where you're chatting with Gaz's date, Lily, wine colored velvet dress draped across your body, snug and silky across your skin. Your hair is done, styled differently, arranged on top of your head instead of your usual or pulled into something looser, shiny gold cuff curled around the top of your ear. You’re stunning, and his mind turns over, trying to determine if it’s okay or appropriate to tell you for the third time tonight that he’s obsessed with you, that he wants to get you home and worship you, wants to rip your dress off and ruin it. He wonders if you’ll let him take you home early, if you’ll be quiet for him when he bends you over the bed, if you’ll come on his cock all breathy and sweet with his name on your lips.

Emmaline sits embraced in nook of your elbow, white and green dress complemented by tiny, shiny, black shoes, babbling away at anyone who will look at her. She lights up when he steps closer, trying to tip out of your grasp towards his, discontent rising in her crumpled little brow when she can't break free.

"Hi." You beam, his hand finding the small of your back, Emmaline wriggling around to face him, leaning back with a big smile, knocking her head into his side. You roll your eyes at Lily. "I've become chopped liver to my own baby."

"Alright, sweet pea. C'mere then." He settles her on top of his forearm, chubby fist knotting into the collar of his shirt. "Let's give mama a break, eh?" You smile, relieved, reaching up for a kiss, tip toes stretching until he leans to meet you, and when you pull away, you give Emmaline one on her cheek, bright baby giggles echoing through the room. "We're going to see what the team is up to." He bounces her, and your thumb strokes a soft circle into his waist.

"Okay."

"There she is!" Gaz calls, and Emmaline squirms in Simon's grasp, pressing her face into his neck, head tilted just slightly so she can still see the guys, cheeks dimpled. She watches Kyle cautiously, incredibly shy, and Simon whispers to comfort her.

"What's wrong, baby girl? You're alright. It's just Gaz." She mouths at his shirt, and he smooths a hand over the back of her head softly. "She's not usually so reserved, loves attention."

"Ye're scaring her." Johnny admonishes as huffs, breath rolling in a fog through the chilled air, but when Simon turns, Emmaline whips around, peering over his shoulder to stare at Gaz, expression delighted.

"I don't think she's scared, Soap. Looks smitten to me." Johnny clucks his tongue, half outraged, and Gaz just laughs, stroking her cheek as she coos soft sweet nonsense towards him, making Johnny scowl.

“’m supposed tae be her favorite.” He grumbles, and Price barks out a laugh, clapping him on his back.

“Gotta get your own for that, son.” He shakes his head, reaching a finger out to her fist, letting her grab onto him. She immediately starts to drag it towards his mouth, and Price lets her, chuckling softly under his breath. “Needs something for her teeth.”

"I think we've got something in her bag." Simon rubs her back, watching how her eyes light up when she spots Price's beard, tiny fingers mindlessly drifting towards his chin. "Mama's been giving you frozen pacifiers, huh?"

"Ye should try scotch, my maw used tae give me some, when ah was a bairn." Johnny tickles his fingers across her side and she shrieks into a giggle fit, nearly choking on laughter that has him glowing with pride. "Who's yer favorite uncle, Emmaline? Is it Uncle Soap?" Johnny whispers in his best baby voice, and Simon snorts.

"She can't have scotch, MacTavish. She's a baby, and-"

"Alright out here?" You're standing in the door, half in, half out, teetering precariously on the top step, and for the hundredth time tonight you take Simon's breath away, light from the kitchen shimmering behind you like a halo, framing you in a soft, warm yellow glow, his stomach clenching.

"We're alright." He promises, already making his way towards the doorway, taking the stairs until you're within arms reach, Emmaline clapping her hands together when she spots you. "You okay?" He keeps his voice low, yet still tender, trying not to give the guys too much ammo, and you smile, spectacular and sweet, enough to make him melt on the spot.

"Yeah, just wanted to check on you two." You brush a finger across Emma's cheek, mouth opening to say something else when Johnny's voice rings across the patio, cheeky and smug.

"LT, ye're standın' under mistletoe." He hadn't noticed the cluster of greenery tacked to the bricked arch just outside the door, but it's hard to miss now, and when you glance above your head and laugh, he shrugs his shoulders. "Well..."

"Well?" You raise an eyebrow. A challenge. An invitation. Enough of both for him, encouragement not needed in the first place, his lips finding yours easily, pulling you into the bulk of his body, wrapping an arm around your waist while still holding Emma against his chest in the other. She bridges the gap between you, both of his girls safe and sheltered in his arms, and he blocks out the sound of Gaz and Johnny's shouting and whooping, focusing on the taste of your tongue, smell of your skin, plush lips against his. It's everything, you're everything, you and Emmaline- his family, his to love, to care for, to protect, emotion welling up in his chest that has him pulling away and pressing his nose against the top of your head, mouth finding your temple, your cheek, his eyes closed and breaths measured.

"Merry Christmas." He whispers, still holding you tight, and you dip forward to press a kiss to Emmaline's scalp, your hand reaching for his jaw, thumb reverently stroking across the scar on his cheek.

"Merry Christmas Simon."

#peaches writes #light on #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #codholiday2023 #simon ghost riley x reader

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yawnderu · 1 month

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I'm sorry but being with simon at the beginning of a relationship would be so awkward.💀

Like...

You can't take pics, you can't know about his routine, you can't know about his work and so goes on.

So or are you with him for the cock or because you have the syndrome of falling in love with strange men

>This turned into a mini character study. 😔🗣️

Good dick has taken you places you wouldn't even go to with a gun.

Simon is a kind man. Truly, he is. He's just... slightly strange. You don't know much about him other than the fact that he has served in the military— something he never even told you, you simply guessed by the dogtags he never takes off and the plethora of scars adorning his pale body, a privilege you didn't get until he realized he could trust you... for the most part.

For a man like Simon, vulnerability was nothing but a highly-desired privilege. Something he wouldn't allow himself to have ever again, hiding his face under different masks that caused the reactions he was looking for— intimidation and fear, the skulls doing nothing more than serving the purpose of representing all he was, a ghost. A man who died a long time ago, way before he was tortured by the greedy, cruel hands of Manuel Roba.

It's not that Simon doesn't love you, he simply doesn't know how to allow himself to be vulnerable. How to put down the walls he spent a lifetime building, serving as shelter from his father's abuse, nothing but a mere way of shielding the broken pieces of his soul, not allowing anyone to trample what little he had left.

... not until you came, at least. Sweet little thing, never moving away from his side even when Simon told you nothing good comes from men like him. Perhaps it's unfair, yet Simon only warned you once. Had a long chat with you about how you could do better— only for you to find yourself already tangled on his web, unable to leave even if you wanted to... and good for him, because the idea of leaving him never once crossed your mind no matter how difficult he could be.

For you, it was a test of patience and care, wanting to peel every single layer of the man Simon Riley is, yet for him, it's a new chance at life. The holy light, in a way, guiding him into a path he never found himself roaming, a path he never even thought he'd have the chance to see, not when he was such a tainted, dirty man, sins that would last him a lifetime easily forgotten the moment your arms wrap around him, holding him with such tenderness one would've thought he's made of expensive fine china rather than scar tissue and trauma.

It's not like Simon is a bad partner— quite the opposite, truly. He has a way with words, reassuring you that there'll be a time where he's able to reveal more about himself and what he does, having a scheduled delivery of flowers and food almost every day he's gone, wanting to keep you happy even when he's on the other side of the world, gaining more enemies by the day.

... And yet he is not afraid anymore. His enemies die with Ghost, by his punishing hand or that of an ally. The moment the mask comes off, he's your Simon. Yours and only yours, never even allowing himself to look at other women, he has the most gorgeous one by his side, one that loves him with all she has, making him feel like a proper lad for the first time in his life.

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moondirti · 1 year

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animalic (1)

series masterlist

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader rating: mature word count: 1.9k summary: he won't stop until he gets you warnings: enemies to lovers, injuries, kissing, minor ATSV spoilers, size kink (?), mentions of gore and death, not spell checked nor edited, honestly not my best work but the horny is all that matters notes: stayed up all night for this because i had to get it out of my system before finals. there'll be a few more parts, i promise i'm not this cruel haha

“I thought grace was a prerequisite for your little spider-club.”

Your quip sounds disjointed – even to your own ears – entwined with wheezes that rattle your splintered rib cage. In all honesty, the circumstances don’t seem to be favouring you; he’s got you confined upon the wreckage of your own fight, hanging off the remnants of a crane that dangerously tips over a quarry. And though this isn’t the worst you’ve faced, Miguel’s presence always seems to make things more complicated than they need to be.

You’d had a stable hold on the beam, ready to pull yourself up and dematerialise to wherever he wasn’t. Until, of course, the asshole kicked your elbows off. Now, your fingers remain as your only attachment to the structure, shaking violently with their diminishing strength. Your torso isn’t faring any better, either – the bleeding both internal and trickling from the gashes in your hoodie.

(You wonder if he’s toying with you, like a panther with its food. Of the rare times he’s assigned another spiderman to pursue you, they didn’t tend to drag it out for this long.

But, you suppose, Miguel’s different.)

He takes a small step forward, lifting his foot over your digits. He could crush them like this, turn the bone to powder and keep pressing until it macerates in the gore. You can’t put it past him, really, not if you utter one more self-sabotaging word. You’ve seen him rip through steel and silk alike, fueled on the resentment that simmers deep within his very essence. Yours is merely the same fate that’s befallen every other obstacle that’s dared to come his way.

But the tension buzzes between you two, thickening until it’s palpable enough to taste. Miguel is quiet as ever, completely still save for the flickering light of his dimensional travel watch. You envy his position – that resolute stature, brimful of power as his shoulders square, his calf rippling with subdued strength, still stretched over your hand. You blame that, or the mask, slick with sweat and humid as it sticks to your nose. Or the glasses that slowly slip to reveal your squinting eyes. You blame anything apart from what it is; that fear that steadily begins to flood your senses, numbing it all into one, cohesive panic.

You’ve never been good at life or death scenarios.

“Or, maybe, the big boss thinks he can break his own rules?”

The air snaps. With an infuriated roar, he lunges at you, razor-sharp talons swiping at your face. In your frenzied dunk to avoid them, your fingers drop.

You plunge to the bottomless chasm below.

Okay. Let’s try to get this right, one last time.

Your name doesn’t matter. It hasn’t, not for a while now.

For the past year, you’ve been on the run from the Spider Society. You don’t exactly blame them for it, either. Every world you’ve crashed has gone to shit, despite serious lack of trying. Food-barren wastelands, borderless warzones. Truthfully, after the mantle of Earth 7BB-1 convected in on itself, you were inclined to turn yourself in.

Independant of the fact that Nueva York seems to be the only place you can’t fuck up. Regardless of the relatability you have with the residents of its lobby. You were bitten by a radioactive spider just the same, and for all the good you’ve tried to do, you’ve never been a spider-hero. If it meant that no one else got hurt, you really would have been able to cope with lifetime confinement.

(Greater good and all that.)

Would’ve. Could’ve. If it weren’t for Miguel O’Hara’s interjection, and his goddamn alternative solution, things just might have turned out that way.

You’re not dead.

The realisation whips your consciousness into high alert, eyes snapping open to survey your surroundings. You process the light first, its brilliance piercing through the bromine-doused cotton that stuffs your skull. Then, it’s the pain that, up until this point, had been thrumming in the background. It crackles, marrow-deep, tearing down the tendons in your shoulders to the throbbing area around your ribs. They’re in doubtlessly worse shape than they had been at the quarry, the ache searing across to engulf your spine too.

He had let you fall on your back, that dickhead.

But–

You’re not dead.

It doesn’t take you long to figure out why that is.

A red forcefield entraps you, droning its monotonous hum, partially obscuring everything beyond your own reflection. You can see the faint impression of a silhouette – no, multiple – stalking you on the other end, a great shadow court. They warp and grow with every passing second, gorging on your offered vulnerability, awaiting some wordless signal from the harbinger of death, to execute justice upon the one who’s been causing them so much trouble. Jess Drew. Hobie Brown. Ben Reilly.

(They’d been more forgiving, once. Willing to negotiate peace, to treat you more than the screw up you’ve proven to be.

His voice overrode theirs. Always.)

It’s easier to make out the devil himself – more so than the others. You’ve come to memorise the slope of those shoulders, how his fists clench at his sides as he circles you. You imagine the smug set of his jaw and those eyes, just as luminous as the cage you curl within. The puck at the base is recognisable, akin to the capture weapons he’s thrown at you previously. He’d saved your life, then.

On a technicality. You’ll bury that thought to rage over later.

“How–”

The question hardly forms before you’re ripped in two, the atoms of all but your spirit splicing into one another in a defect of blue and orange. The glitch exacerbates the fractures that threaten to knock you out, racking through your system as it rearranges your matter into amorphous forms. It’s only when something is thrown into the enclosure do you snap back to. A bracelet clatters to the floor.

“Didn’t know whether you’d be used to the glitching yet.” A disembodied voice remarks. It’s at a particularly whiny pitch – you assign it to Ben.

“We… tried to get it on you, kid. But you–” A feminine inflection crops up. Jess sounds the same since the last you spoke.

You glower at them from the corner of your eye – unsure if they can actually see you – and snap the day pass on. Your spectral abilities were handy at the best of times; to shift from the corporeal, coming into immateriality, makes the most complicated situations evadeable. You credit it for your continued survival, if nothing else. Yet to speak like you could control it, especially while unconscious, was pushing it. You clearly weren’t able to activate it when you needed it the most.

And now you’re here.

“I’m not going to ask what you want, so let’s keep this short– y-yeah? Either you let me go, or this Earth’ll be the next to unravel.” Despite your intentions, the demand escapes you in a long-winded croak. You hear Hobie snicker, the laugh teetering the edge of approval. Anyone can tell the promise has no foundation.

“That won’t be happ–”

“Leave us.”

The room clips into white noise. You fail to focus on anything but that echoing order.

His voice comes across clearer than all else, too, cadence resonating past any natural boundary, tugging your heart right where it’s tender. There’s that fear again, that singular dread, only ever triggered by his indifference. Perhaps more potent than fury, his patience gives away an all-assured determination. Deadly.

You bite your cheek, steeling your expression into one of similar apathy. It feels like a child’s attempt at dress up, grubby hands clutched around mother’s lipstick, painting on a clown’s complexion. Crackling apprehension brushes across your most vulnerable parts; layer by layer, you’re skinned as the group files out. Bare nerves are all that’s left for your faceoff with the hulking man.

He throws another puck to the floor. His own forcefield conjoins to yours.

His cheeks have gotten hollower, you notice, emphasising the cheekbones that are just as keen as everything else about him. He offers no smile, no grand boast of victory. Instead, he breathes – calmly, fixedly, and lets you absorb the overwhelming magnitude of his size once more. He’s aware of what it strikes in you, can see it in the way you falter upon every reintroduction. Miguel is colossal, a reality that has never been more apparent than in this cramped enclosure.

You know that if you stop to ponder it, it’ll ruin you.

Rearing on your heels, you bounce from your place on the ground, making a grab for his watch. He anticipates it, having caught the decision blaze in your pupils, and side steps, pivoting to gain the upper hand while your back is still turned. You rebound off the field wall, stumbling back when he yanks you by your hoodie. Your shoulder presses into his chest, and he moves to wrap himself around your form.

Your skin prickles. His body passes right through you.

His recovery time is nearly nonexistent relative to your last fight – quick learner – but you’re still swift on your feet, bolting to his watch again. It’s a millisecond too slow, for his talons sink into your forearm when you start to pull away.

Your pained yelp loses momentum as he slams your back against the wall, using a knee to pin your other arm in place, his free hand wrapping around your neck.

He’s close. Too close. Your stomach flips, pushing up on your oesophagus until you choke with the bile that sears its lining. Your breaths are as deep enough as his clutch will allow, index and thumb cutting off the circulation on both sides of your neck.

Ichor blooms from the puncture points at your wrist, the warmth puddling at your palm, not yet heavy enough to drip down onto the floor. You don’t think he realises how deep his claws are, how near he is to scratching bone. You don’t think you do, either. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should, and while you’re sure you’ll regret not prioritising it sooner, you don’t think– Don’t think–

“I-I’m not goi…going home,” You gasp.

“It’s not up to you, Wraith.” Miguel growls, chokehold loosening.

It hits you, then. Animalic. He smells addictingly animalic. Like musk, a blend of brine and hot air and hints of a patchouli aftershave that still clings to his jaw. Your eyes flutter, seeking all you can get of the latter. Unwittingly, you move in closer.

You haven’t been this close to anyone in a long time.

His expression oscillates between a sneer and a grimace, nose pulling up to reveal the very pointed ends of his two canines. Set side by side with plush lips, you zero in on the thought of experiencing the contrast with your own.

He’s huge.

Closer.

Completely overwhelms you, in size and presence and–

Closer.

Your ribs ache. Your back groans. You’re quickly losing feeling in your fingers, and movement – soon – if you don’t do something.

Your breath weaves with his. He doesn’t reciprocate when your lips brush, but he doesn’t pull away, either.

You kiss him for longer than you should. Longer than you need to. It’s firm, and not unlike what you expected.

(World-shattering, all the same.)

Your skin prickles. It takes all of your rationale to pull away – dematerializing out of his grasp, and into the portal you’d activated from his wrist.

chapter 2 →

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bandgie · 6 months

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hiiii is ok if i request a stoner smut😭 ( with either han,chan or felix) like y/n and him are smoke buddies and in one of the sessions things get a little hot and heavy 🥲

it’s ok if ur uncomfortable but if you’re not i’d love to see it

-anon 🍃

a/n: yes?!? oh my god?? why give me 3 options when I can do them all?? at the same time??

synopsis: You warned your smoking buddies that you get a little...different when you're really high. They don't believe you though, and smoke you out anyway. Neither of you can decide if it was worst mistake or best decision of your lives.

warnings: MDNI 18+, heavily under the influence, 4some, brief pussy play, no protection, cumming inside, pussy eating, mxm themes!!!, squirting, double penetration, blow job (m!&f!), multiple orgasms (f!), I went crazy with this one I ain't gonna lie

2.6k words

"Oh dude she's gone."

"You shouldn't have smoked her out man."

"She wanted me to!"

You can distantly hear the three of them arguing. Han is, once again, thrown under the bus as Felix and Chris blame him. To be fair, everyone's high out of their mind. Whatever Felix bought back from California hits.

Han is warm as you snuggle against him, his heartbeat irregular as he keeps defending himself. When you told them you get a little excited when you're super high, they thought you'd be bouncing off the walls. Instead, they had to keep you from clawing Han's cock out to bounce on that.

"I'm not even that high," you speak up for yourself. "I just want a little fun, that's all."

Chan scoffs, bloodshot eyes looking at your droopy ones. "You are that high, actually. The sober you that I know would punch Han before he even thought about touching you."

The image of slapping the man you're sitting on makes you laugh hysterically. You're gasping for air, clutching at your chest as you cackle. Your exaggerated laughter makes Felix chuckle, and it doesn't take long until all four of you are on the verge of throwing up from giggling.

"But I like the way he feels," you manage to speak after your chest heaves. "Hannie's so soft and warm, it feels so good." It's not smart of you to talk like that when Han's cock is underneath your ass. You can feel like twitching in response.

You softly grind your ass against it, humming. "You like it too, huh Hannie? Do you want to touch me?"

"Hey. That's enough," Chan's voice is stern, but you don't miss how his eyes drop to your bare thighs. Han freezes under you, scared that moving might make his cock hard.

You roll your eyes and grind against Han again, hearing him hiss. "For fucks' sake Chan, I'm high, not drunk." There's not a care for the aftermath in your head. It feels as though there'll be no repercussions, that time has frozen still for you. For this moment.

Still, Chan shakes his head. "Doesn't matter, you're not in the right mind."

"If you don't wanna fuck me Chan, Hannie will." You turn your attention back to Han, who's struggling under you. He's hard now, but his hands stay placed on the cushions. "You'll play with me, right Han?"

His eyes dart from yours to Chan's, unsure. "I dunno. What if you get mad at me in the morning?" You coo at his uncertainty. Reaching for his hands, you place them on your hips. His fingers dig into your soft flesh, pulling you closer to him.

"I would never be mad at you," you promise. "Just touch me."

That’s enough permission for Han. He parts your thighs while Felix and Chris are front-row viewers. Getting high was just an excuse, you've always wanted him to touch you. For all of them to touch you. It's why you didn't wear any shorts under your skirt. A black thong barely covers your cunt, and Han is quick to play with it.

His fingers slip behind the material, finding your clit easily. He gently rubs you in circles, moaning in your ear. Han slips his hand out and places it over your underwear, rubbing that instead.

It makes you whine, bucking your hips in protest. You're about to complain when you catch the other two boys staring. Felix is on the edge of his seat, staring at where Han touches you. Chan is the opposite, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back in his seat. He looks irritated but there's dark arousal in his eyes.

You let Han make a show of you, getting you to drip down your ass.

"Fuck," you hear Felix swear. His voice sounds deeper if that was even possible. His lips are wet from how constantly he's licking them, but he makes no move towards you.

Han pinches your clit. The sudden grasp makes you whine, hips lifting in the air before he forces you back on his lap.

"I don't have a condom," he whispers in your ear. You shake your head aggressively, "I don't care. Put it in."

Chan opens his mouth to say something but snaps it shut. His jaw clenches as he watches Han slips his hand between the two of you, releasing his throbbing cock. He doesn't want to hear you complain in the morning about this, it's your fault.

Han pulls your panties to the side and slides his cock against your folds. You arch your back into him, moaning. You look down to watch his dick collect your juices, lewdly making noise. Then he angles his cock down, catching your entrance.

You have to slightly lift your hips when his tip goes in. The stretch is far from painful, and it feels like you're on cloud nine. You slam your hips down on Han impatiently. He whines behind you, body shaking and his arms wrap around your waist.

It's a struggle to keep your legs open for the other men to see, but you hook them over Han's legs for support. Han starts slow, unused to the feel of your cunt. He groans in your neck, biting your skin. "Fuck, that's good pussy."

You only hum in response as you feel Han fuck into you harder. It sends overwhelming shocks of pleasure throughout your body. Your mind grows hazy, vision blurring. You've touched yourself while high, and that alone was a trip. To have someone bury themselves deep inside you, to feel their hot dick slip in and out of you, it feels like you're at a constant high.

Felix is the first to break. He stands to his feet quickly and takes long strides toward you. Han slows his thrusts, unsure if Felix wants a turn with you already. He grips you a little tighter, possessively.

Both of you are shocked to see him fall to his knees in front of your pussy. He pushes the thong further out of the way with his thumb, looking up at you.

"Can I?"

You're nodding before he even finishes, "Fuck yes."

You cum at the feel of Felix's plush lips. Your walls clench and grip Han's cock tightly, making him thrust into you deep. Felix has to keep his hands on your thighs to keep you still. It's obvious you came with the high-pitched moans and convulsing body, but neither of them made a move to stop.

"Shit, I can feel her creaming on my cock. Fuck, Felix lick me too," Han rasps out.

Felix is quick to comply. You feel his tongue dip past your pussy presumably only onto the few inches of Han's cock that isn't in your pussy. Han trembles behind you, hips stuttering into yours. Felix reaches back up to your clit, running his lips over your nub before he lightly sucks.

You don't have much energy to grind on his pretty face, so you lay there pliant as Han fucks into you earnestly and as Felix gently eats you out. You bury your hands into Felix's green hair, desperate to grip onto something.

The hot sensation builds in your stomach again, this time much more intensely. Han can feel the clenching of your walls, the added wetness your pussy drools out. The pressure in your tummy feels different, hotter, and unstable.

"Felix!" You cry out. "I'm gonna cum again! Fuck, I think I'm gonna squirt!"

You think he might back away, but he buries his face deeper, sucks a little harder. "Give it to me baby, I want it all over my face."

The force of your second orgasm makes Han's cock slip out. Felix's face and Han's thighs are victims of your release. You coat them sheer with your orgasm, watching how Felix keeps his mouth open to drink your release.

He gulps down the remaining spurts of your pussy, a smile on his face. "Yeah, Han. That's good pussy alright." Felix stands, looking down at your wrecked state. He bends down and kisses you roughly, making sure you can taste yourself on his lips. Then he moves behind you to kiss Han who already has his tongue out. Both of them moan in the kiss, making your pussy throb even more.

Felix unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants just down enough to reach for his cock. You drool at the sight, moaning softly. He pumps himself a few times, then taps his tip on your swollen clit.

"Think you can handle two at a time baby?"

Before you can even think to answer, Han butts in. "You should be asking me that. I don't think I'll last much longer." The two of them laugh, and then Felix looks back at you. "Can you?"

Biting your bottom lip, you nod. "Yeah, just go slow." Han and Felix nod in unison, "Of course baby."

The two of them angle their cocks into your slightly gaping entrance. Han pushes the tip of his cock in first. Felix follows quickly after, pressing his tip against Han's. You let your head fall back between Han's neck and shoulder, relaxing your body. It's quite easy since you are already elated, but there's still a painful stretch as they slide in.

You hiss when they stretch you out, their cocks halfway in. Han tightens his grip on your waist and pecks your forehead. Felix soothingly runs his hands against your thighs and kisses your exposed neck. "Doing so good, you're almost there."

Their comforting touches encourage you to try harder. They sink further in and you gasp.

"Chan," Han calls his hyung who's been overly silent throughout the whole thing. You almost forgot he was there.

"What?"

"Think our baby needs a bit of help. Come on."

Chan shouldn't help. He told you many times this was a bad idea, but no one listened. Still, watching your teary eyes get to him. The way your face contorts from discomfort. You looked so pretty cumming over Han's cock, he can't imagine what'd it be like to cream over both.

He finds himself standing and walking over to you three, standing beside Felix.

"Mate, you need to Han bottom out first. Here." Chan hands one hand on Felix's waist while the other guides your stomach downwards. Han moves his hips up, slowly filling your walls. You squeal and tremble, but it's bearable.

"There you go," Chris coos. "Make sure you go deep Han. Felix needs as much room as he can get."

Han obeys his friend, making sure to bury himself to the hilt. You feel him push past what you thought was possible. Your legs threaten to snap shut, but Felix's iron grip keeps them open. Han can feel how tight your pussy is, how good it feels to rub against Felix's cock.

Chan taps the green-haired on the waist, "You're good to go."

"Oh," your eyes roll back to your head. Your lips spread deliciously when Felix pushes the remaining inches in. You can feel how your clit slightly rubs against his girth, making extra warmth flow out of you.

Your reactions make Chan chuckle, smiling for the first time in what seems like hours. "Feels good huh? Taught him well." He playfully slaps Felix on the ass.

The two of them feel heavenly in your walls. All three of you are a moaning mess, content with staying still. It's not until Chris clears his throat that Han begins to move. Shallow thrusts into your pussy that make the trio whimper.

Felix moves with longer strokes. They don't match each other's thrusts, but the speed is the same. One goes in while the other goes out, then sometimes it's at the same time, then it's everything in between. Your walls loosen after a few testing strokes, and they're fucking into you roughly in no time.

Chan tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, getting a good view of your face. It's then that you notice his hard-on, how painful it must be in his jeans. Wordlessly, you open your mouth, tongue lolling out. Chan laughs at your directness, "You sure?"

You respond by using your weak fingers to unzip him, "Yesssss."

He laughs again and helps you undress him. His cock is the biggest of the three, in girth and length. You're thankful he isn't in you, there's no way you could've handled it. Chan taps the head of his cock on your lips, smearing his pre-cum.

Then he pushes in gently, not to disrupt the boys using you. He's hot and heavy on your tongue, slightly salty. Truthfully, getting as high as you did always leaves you with a dry mouth. You find it difficult to provide enough spit for Chan's cock.

He doesn't complain though, and never pushes you past your limit. Chan uses his hands to jerk what you can't fit in your mouth. You want to protest and say you can do it yourself, but with how good Felix and Han are fucking you, it seems impossible.

Han's cock twitches inside you, a warning for his orgasm. "I'm gonna cum. Fuck baby I'm gonna cum in you."

You hum around Chris's cock in response, and soon enough you're filled with Han's cum. It's warm in your stomach and you feel it pool onto the sofa. Felix moans at the extra lubrication, finding it hot to see him fuck the cum out of you.

Han's cock stays inside of you. He likes to think Felix and you help ride out his high. He turns his head to watch you suck off Chan, groaning. Han opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, looking up at Chan expectedly.

The eagerness in Han's eyes has the older man raising an eyebrow, but he indulges nonetheless. Chan slips his cock from your mouth and places it on Han's tongue.

Han is in a better condition to suck. He even does the honor of spitting on Chan's dick. He licks and takes his cock almost to the hilt before gagging. The sight makes Chan moan, and he puts his dick back in your mouth. Your lips are much softer and your mouth is hotter. Han's is wetter though, and much more usable. Chan settles for using both of your throats.

You're thankful for Han helping, it's hard to focus with Felix still pounding away. His fingers are for sure going to leave a bruise, and your pussy may not be the same after this. With your warm pussy and Han's cock, Felix can feel his balls tighten and how his hips lose their momentum.

He doesn't warm you when he cums. There's just his deep, consecutive moans as Felix fills you to the brim. Your legs tremble, and you're cumming before you're aware of it. Chan has to use Han's mouth more often as you moan and whimper through your orgasm.

Felix rides his high out when Chan forces your head to face his cock. He jerks himself quickly, tapping his tip on both your and Han's tongues. Chan cums on both of your faces, hot spurts landing on your cheek and lips.

Your tongue pokes out to get a taste, moaning.

Felix finally pulls out, making you whine. Han follows suit, letting his soft cock leave you empty. Chan lets you give his cock extra kisses while Han unwraps an arm from you to wipe his face.

Chan has to pry you away from his dick, chuckling when you protest. He tucks himself away despite your complaining.

The four of you untangle from each other. Though the couch is small, all of you manage to snuggle against one another with you and Han in the middle. All of you are shining in afterglow and cum, with complete disregard for how you might react in the morning.

Han picks his head up to overlook all of you, a playful scowl on his face. "And you were mad at me for smoking her out."

a/n: man i...I dunno what to say. this is totally self-indulgent. the way I need this to happen. thank you anon 🍃, I truly needed this

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