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#look i know this is late as hell but like
ponderingmoonlight · 3 days
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Gojo falls ill and reader does finishes his missions and her own missions as well do Gojo doesn't have a pile of work waiting for him once he gets better. Gojo gets better. And finds out. Hehehehe Lobe u babes
omg I love this, let's do it hehe
Reader finishing Gojo's missions when he falls sick and he finds out
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Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader
Word Count: 2,3k
Synopsis: When your husband falls sick, you don't think twice about completing all of his tasks in order for him to not be stressed - even if it means multiple sleepless nights for youself. Little did you know that your husband will find out about it and thank you in his own way...
Warnings: pure fluff over fluff so enjoy, Gojo basically being THE husband for y'all, not proofread because it's already darn late here and I'm way too tired
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„Oh come on, don’t tell me the honoured one caught a cold”, you playfully tease your beloved husband.
He’s definitely ill, there’s no doubt in that. The way his forehead is covered in sweat, his unusual pale face paired with his heavy breathing. Let alone the sight of his red and runny nose.
You never thought this is possible. After all, Satoru is one of the few people who are able to use revered technique. Isn’t he able to heal himself, to prevent his body from falling sick?
“Looks like I overdid it those last weeks. My body is catching up on my apparently”, he replies weakly along with a nasty sounding cough.
You know all too well these last weeks were like a trip to hell and back for him. This is actually the first time you saw your husband after one whole week of him running from mission to mission and coming home into bad past after midnight. Being two special grade sorcerers, it is your responsibility to prevent the worst things from happening. Especially during summer, the number of curses triples. And that paired with the stinging fact that jujutsu sorcerers die like flies each and every day…
It’s no wonder his body took a toll on him.
“You’ll stay here for the rest of the week, babe”, you instruct him gently while pulling a blanket up his chest.
“Nah, no chance. I’ll have a pile of work when I get back and-AH.”
It’s frightening, the way he almost chokes while coughing so roughly that it vibrates through your whole body. This doesn’t sound good at all. To be exact, you’ve never seen your husband like this despite the fact that you’ve been together for multiple years by now. If he’s feeling this miserable, it’s definitely time for a break.
“Don’t worry about that. I hold the position while you’re gone.”
Little did he know you meant that.
-a week later-
“It’s far past midnight. Why are you still up, (y/n)?”
His hoarse voice rips you out of your microsleep immediately, lids so heavy they feel like closing by themselves if you don’t pay close attention.
“Oh, just work.”
No, it’s not just work. Apart from the daily drama you have to endure, you made it your mission to complete each and every task your husband would face as soon as he comes back. You know all too well he’ll throw himself fully into work again, not thinking about his own health a single second. And to prevent that, you decided to finish his missions as well, to teach his students, to do anything in your power to prevent Satoru from a pile of work.
Including swollen eyelids, constant grumpy mood, no effort to eat and your shoulders hanging down onto the ground.
You hate to admit it, but you are exhausted. You never realized how much work your husband does during the day. Must be easier for him, though. Teleportation sure sounds nice at the moment…
“I’m worried about you, babe. Are the elders bombarding you with work again? Maybe I need to have a serious talk again-“
“No, don’t think too much about it. I’m just hanging on a bit, that’s it”, you lie.
Oh, Satoru knows it is. After all, you’re talking about yourself. You, so disciplined that you’d never leave work unattended. No, it’s absolutely impossible that you’re “hanging on a bit”. But what else is it? The dark circles underneath your eyes look like valleys in the soft light of a lamp, tired eyes failing to focus on the paperwork in front of you. Usually, this is what you’re doing straight in the morning when he’s still asleep. What keeps you so busy these last days? He has to find out, he-
He almost chokes on himself again, earning a concerned side eye from you. It’s been a week and he’s still sick to the brim. Worry lines decorate your face, palm gently resting against his scorching hot forehead.
“Off to bed with you.”
“Don’t stay up too long, okay? All you seem to do is work these last days”, your husband replies worried himself.
You sigh to yourself. That’s because you do. But leaving your husband to a pile of work after he returns to Jujutsu High only to get sick again? You grab the pen in your hand tighter, force your eyes to fully open. Only a few more days and you’ll be done. After all, you’re doing this for him, right?
Satoru is definitely worth the sleepless nights.
-a few days after-
“Turns out I’m fully back at normal again, babe!”, your husband announces proudly.
You blink against the harsh light of the merciless sun, eyes dry like sand. Only a few hours ago, you returned from a village Satoru was supposed to inspect. Well, minutes turned into hours when a special grade curse appeared out of no where and made your life living hell. The sun already began to rise when you carried yourself back into bed.
But still, you can’t help but smile at him. These last days were rough for him. Him, the strongest, passed out because of a cold. He wasn’t himself all this time, weak body bound into bed with his limbs aching.
“So glad to here that”, you mumble while pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips.
“Sleep in for a while, you look exhausted (y/n). I know you just came back a few hours ago and don’t you dare to lie at me.”
Your eyes widen in an instant, cheeks blushing ever so slightly. You were so careful about leaving and returning, his even and long breaths not giving a single hint that he might be awake.
“I’m heading to Jujutsu High, bet work piled up pretty bad. Wish me good luck and have a good rest princess, I’ll kick their asses if they try to call you!”
With one last loving glance at you, he’s gone. And you can’t help but pass out immediately.
“Guess who’s back to save the day!”, Satoru announces proudly into the room filled with his students and Yaga Masamichi who looks at him with the same disinterest as usual.
“You? Didn’t even know you even exist anymore”, Nobara mumbles while filing down her nails.
“How are you? (y/n) told us you were sick”, Yuji interjects.
“I’m completely back to normal!”
“What a shame”, Megumi mumbles under his breath.
“Sooo, what side of earth do I have to save today? I’m sure a lot of work piled up while I was gone. After all, I’m the strongest.”
Satoru stretches himself playfully, waiting for the director to tell him about all different kinds of missions, curses and teachings he has to deal with these next few days. But instead, he just shrugs his shoulders.
“What? Got nothing to say? Okay, let me guess, what about that special grade curse in the village-“
“Done”, Yaga Masamichi replies dryly.
“The combat training with the first year-“
“Done.”
“Any curses that appeared in Tokyo?”
“Done.”
“Taking care of-“
“Done.”
This can’t be true, the man in front of him has to joke. Apart from you, Satoru is the only special grade sorcerer here at Jujutsu High. No one would ever be able to fulfil some of those missions, let alone teach his students just like that. Not even the director himself is capable of dealing with that special grade curse he was talking about just before Satoru got sick. But who…?
“Didn’t your wife tell you she already managed all those things?”
Oh, he was so stupid that it hurts. All these nights he caught you almost falling asleep on your desk, the multiple times you sneaked out of bed far past midnight, the dark circles under your eyes. All this time, you weren’t only busy with your own missions. No, you actually fulfilled all of his work for him as well.
“Just the amount of work I have to do when I come back. Urgh, being sick sucks.”
“Don’t worry, love. I’m sure you’ll be fine.
Yeah, he sure as hell is. But only because you decided to make your own life living hell for two weeks straight.
“Please don’t tell me (y/n) did all of my stuff while I was gone.”
“I’ll never understand how a kind-hearted woman like her ended up with you. She didn’t even stop when I told her to and somehow managed to get information about the missions I prepared for your sick ass”, the director replies dryly.
“Call her in right now.”
Words aren’t enough to thank you for this. No, you deserve way more than that, way more than his mouth could ever give you.
“And let her leave again in about an hour.”
-an hour later-
“Again, sorry for calling you in, (y/n). Now get back home, you’re free tomorrow.”
“Thank you”, is all you’re able to reply, wobbly feet carrying you back into your car and onto the road.
You sigh to yourself. Well, you definitely didn’t expect the director to call you this early when you just returned from an exhausting mission. But who are you to say no to him? After all, it’s your job to do this, it’s your job to protect the innocent.
But…Is it also your job to answer strange questions from your students in the morning?
“Come on, use your brain! You know what the director said!”, Nobara hisses through gritted teeth, the trio sticking their heads together after you were forced to drop your haircare routine to Nobara.
“Ehm...so…well…”
“If you don’t have any further questions, I’ll go-“
“Yes! I have a question!”, Yuji screams so loudly that his voice echoes through your tired brain.
“What is it, Yuji?”, you mutter with your eyes closed.
“How exactly are babies made, (y/n)-san?”
“You’re an idiot…”, Megumi grumbles.
“Really? This is all you have left in your pea-sized brain?”
“What? You just told me to ask her something and that’s what I came up with!”, Yuji defends himself.
“Yeah, but that ‘something’ definitely didn’t include THAT!”
It’s almost as if they were forced to ask you dumb questions. You’ll definitely have a talk with your husband about their strange behaviour when you caught up on sleep. But before that…
You open the door with a swift motion.
Your heart skips a beat, eyes widen.
The usual so modern and clean living-room is now covered in rose pedals and filled with the fresh scent of sakura leaves, your couch unfolded and covered in the most fluffy blankets, pillows and stuffed animals you’re ever seen. And there he sits.
He, your beloved husband, holding up your bathrobe oh so inviting.
“What’s going on here?”, you breathe out.
Suddenly, all the exhaustion you felt earlier disappeared into thin air. Did he really do all of this for you? The candles flickering, the blankets, the strawberries covered in chocolate waiting on the table, him wearing that black t-shirt you love so much.
“Guess what, I found out what you did. Did you really think you’ll get away with stealing my work in silence?”, he teases, love dripping from each and every word he says.
“It was nothing”, you try to brush him off.
But instead, he gets up and grabs your hand in order to guide you into the dim bathroom that is only lightened by a few candles. Again, the lovely smell of sakura leaves radiates from the bathtub filled with bubbles and hot steam. Just the thought of letting yourself sink into that warm water, to finally release the tension in your sore muscles-
Before you’re even able to comprehend what’s happening, Satoru took off your clothes and lifts you off the ground with ease. Your body doesn’t dare to fight back, too weak from all the missions you completed these last days. Just the tip of your toe, relaxing in the water for a few minutes before returning to Jujutsu High…
“Nothing, huh? So you mean doing the stuff I need a month for in two weeks besides your own missions is nothing? Words can’t express how thankful I am to have such a sweet, caring and steaming hot wife”, he whispers against your ear, his fingers starting to massage your back oh so skilled.
You allow yourself to sink into his touch, to rest your eyes for a few minutes. Well, there is no denying in the fact that this was a little too much for you. All the fighting, the paper work, the heart and soul you poured in each and every work.
And then there’s him. Satoru, your beloved husband, who massages your back with his skilled fingers. How lucky you are to call him your husband, that he decided to spend the rest of his life with you. Even though he scolded you ever so slightly for managing his pile of work, you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. What a treasure, how glad you are to know him, how wonderful he is…
“(y/n)?”, Satoru purrs against your ear.
You don’t response, chest rising and falling slow and steady. He can’t help but smile to himself, admiring he beauty of your finally resting face. Carefully, he lifts you out of the bathtub and covers your body in the fluffy bathrobe you love so much. You definitely deserve some rest for all the work you did these last days.
He can’t help but gently caress your cheek, making sure you’re completely tucked you underneath your favourite blanket.
“What a lucky man I am”, he mutters to himself while outlining your parted lips.
“To call someone so wonderful my wife…”
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lexirosewrites · 2 days
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Steddie as rival lawyers who have very different careers.
Steve became a prosecuting attorney after graduating from a top school at his parents’ insistence. It pays well and makes them happy, even if it’s joyless for him to fight for things he doesn’t believe in.
Prosecuting innocent people and fighting for the sake of money without morals.
On the other end of the spectrum is free-spirited Eddie Munson. He’s a defense attorney who shows up in ill-fitting suits that show off his many neck and hand tattoos. Piercings in his ears and hair that’s not tidy or tamed in any way.
He’s a rebel who barely graduated from some lower tier law school with no prestige whatsoever.
Steve naturally assumed their first trial would be a breeze.
But somehow— sheer dumb luck, bad jury selection, or just stupid fate— Eddie wins. And he keeps winning.
Over and over for months.
Steve’s long uninterrupted winning streak becomes a losing one. If Eddie’s in the courtroom too, Steve knows he’s already lost his case.
It’s humbling.
Actually, it’s frankly embarrassing to lose to someone who’s so unprofessional and doesn’t take the law seriously like Steve.
Eddie is respectful of course, but he doesn’t use lawyer-speak unless he’s referencing a precedent of a law. Other than that, he’s overly casual and friendly. Everyone’s favorite lawyer.
He doesn’t lack passion though. No, the guy all but hops up on tables to make speeches about freedom or the American dream during every trial. Utterly ridiculous.
It works though. The juries fall for his bullshit about being down to earth and his clients walk free because of it.
Steve can’t stand it. He can’t stand Eddie and his mockery of his career.
This ultimately culminates in a confrontation in the parking lot one night after a particularly tense trial conclusion.
Once again, Eddie’s guy walked free and Steve knows he’s gonna hear about it from his boss (who also happens to be his dad).
So he might snap a bit when Eddie comes out whistling and looking happier than anything.
“Hey, jackass!”
Eddie looks around like Steve might be referring to some other jackass, despite the otherwise empty parking lot.
He points to himself in question and Steve rolls his eyes in answer.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Eddie finally greets him with a smirk. “Chinese takeout for tonight sound good?”
Steve’s stomach growls at the mere suggestion.
He’d accidentally skipped lunch earlier so he could make changes to his closing argument. Fat load of good that did him.
“Yeah, sure, whatever. You’re not off the hook that easily though. What the hell was that brutal cross examination on my witness, you dickhead?”
Eddie smiles extra sweetly and presses a quick but affectionate kiss to Steve’s forehead first.
“All’s fair in love, war, and court, baby. You can whine about it later when we’re home if you really want to. I happen to know some very nice pillows that would love to muffle your pretty little moans.”
Asshole.
He blushes, glancing around to make sure they’re still alone before he pulls Eddie into an embrace.
They’ve barely spent any time together this week because of the tense trial and he really missed his boyfriend (not to be mistaken for the jackass who argues with him daily in the courtroom).
As much as they can separate their personal and work lives, it’s hard to not be on the same side of things.
“What if I want you to hear me moan, Eddie? I think it’s only fair since you seem to get everyone else off and I’m the one always suffering for it,” he mumbles snarkily into Eddie’s shirt.
Eddie laughs at the pun. He knew that he would.
“Is that why you’re sulking, babylove? You want me to get you off too?” He nods with a pathetic whine. Not getting to cum for a few days can do that to a person. “I think that can be arranged. You’ve been such a good boy for me lately. You’ve earned a treat.”
Steve melts into his boyfriend’s arms, feeling loved.
“I missed you.”
Another kiss to the forehead, but this time Eddie’s lips linger there as he speaks.
“Missed you too, sweetheart. Not sorry for winning, but I am sorry that you lost.”
Steve knew the defendant was innocent. There wasn’t much of a case to be made anyway. It still stings though.
“Yeah... I’ve been thinking about that and it might be time to quit my dad’s firm. I’d much rather be on the same side as you,” Steve confesses.
Eddie pauses.
“Does that mean…”
Steve looks up smiling and confirms, “Yes. I’ll accept the job offer if it’s still on the table.”
The rival lawyer had offered him a job months ago, before they even got together.
By accepting the position, it means they’d finally be allowed to be a couple publicly and they’d be sitting on the same side of the court for once.
It would also free Steve from his dad’s control and disappointment.
“Stevie, I’d love nothing more than to have you as my partner. In both the court and life. I love you, sweetheart.”
He can’t resist.
“I love you too… jackass.”
Eddie makes good on his promise to get Steve off that night. He even brings out the handcuffs for accuracy sake.
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glorious-spoon · 2 days
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ship: eddie/buck prompt: couch
hi, and thank you! this got longer than i was planning, lol. buck/eddie; 700 words; unsubtle metaphors and first kisses
-
Eddie opens his eyes to the dim flickering light of the TV, turned down low but not quite muted on one of those Ninja Warrior things that Buck loves. He's tilted sideways, cheek pillowed against the outside of Buck's arm, and he's apparently been drooling a little, which would be more embarrassing if it were the first or even the twentieth time it's happened.
"Sorry," he mumbles, peeling his face away to flop back against the couch and muffle a yawn into the back of his hand. "Time's it?"
"Like ten. You were wiped."
"Haven't been sleeping great lately."
"Good thing I picked out a comfortable couch this time around, huh?"
Eddie laughs softly, rolls his shoulders until they give a couple of satisfying pops, then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He glances up to see Buck watching him fondly, his face lit up in the glow of the screen, his eyes sleepy and soft.
"Yeah," he says. "Good thing."
Buck huffs a little, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Eddie imagines tracing the shape of it with his fingers, or maybe with his lips. It's a thought he's become more settled with in the past month or so, after Buck ended things with Tommy, or Tommy ended things with him—Eddie never actually got a detailed post-mortem on what went down there, from either of them, and he's not sure he wants one. They're both single now. Buck likes men. Eddie could just kiss him and see where it leads.
Instead, he slouches back against the couch. On the screen, a petite but muscular woman is slamming her way up a salmon ladder while the crowd shrieks, nearly muted, and the timer speeds ahead. 
"God, she's so good. I bet she could kick my ass."
"That's your type, huh?" Eddie asks, and Buck ducks his head, laughing. 
"I don't know. Maybe."
Eddie hums. He's remembering a night in Buck's kitchen, years ago—you wanna go for the title?—and a tension he can name more easily now than he could back then. For himself, anyway. Sometimes Buck looks at him the way he is now, and he thinks—but he doesn't know. Not for sure.
"Hey, Eddie?"
He didn't even realize his eyes had slid shut again. He blinks, rubbing at them, then rolls his head over to look at Buck. "Yeah?"
Buck hesitates, his lips parted. His eyes flicker over Eddie's face for a moment, and then he scoffs a little and turns his face away. "Nothing. Never mind."
"Oh, no, come on. Now you gotta tell me."
"It's nothing. Seriously."
"Buck."
Buck holds out for a moment, but Eddie can see the moment he gives in, his shoulders sagging, because he's never been any better at saying no to Eddie than Eddie is at saying no to him. It's comforting, the way they both have that problem. Buck rubs at his lower lip, then shrugs a little, then says, without looking at Eddie, "Do you ever… did you ever think that you and me, that we could be…" He glances over, quick and nervous, and Eddie wishes like hell that he knew what his face was doing or how to control it. Buck smears his hand over his mouth a little more roughly, then says, "Seriously, forget it."
"Buck," Eddie whispers. He straightens up on the couch, fully awake now.
"Eddie, I—I don't—"
"Hey," Eddie says, and he reaches up and touches Buck's cheek. Warm skin, stubble just starting to come in. Buck's eyelashes fluttering, his shaky breath. And it's easy from there, to let that guide him: to lean in and press a kiss to Buck's mouth.
It lingers in the stillness for a moment. Then Buck's hand comes up to cup his cheek, and his lips move against Eddie's, kissing him back.
It's soft, and they part just as softly. Buck's eyes are closed, but after a moment he opens them. He breathes out shakily, then laughs a little. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Eddie whispers. His hand is still on Buck's cheek, and he wants to kiss him again, and he thinks maybe he gets to do that now. "Yeah, I think we could."
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phoward89 · 2 days
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Happy (late) 420! I tried to get this out yesterday, but that didn't happen. Anyways, here's some Dealer!Coryo x Reader in honor of 420.
Weed, drugs, guns, cussing, Coriolanus Snow being Coriolanus Snow, p in v, slight degradation?, um that's bout it
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“Your brother's drunk again?” Coryo, your weed dealer and fuck buddy, asked as he flung the door to his section 8 apartment open as soon as he saw you thru the peephole. 
He knew what was wrong with you just by the sullen look on your face. Anytime you had that look on your face it was because your brother was either drunk and fighting with you or your ex (who Coryo nearly beat to death after the last time he cheated on you- which if you ask the dealer shouldn't have happened cause only a fucking idiot would stick their cock in a skeezy cunt when they've got your perfect, tight cunt to fuck on the regular) did something (like cheat) to upset you. 
After getting beat within an inch of his life, your ex skipped town. Rumor has it that he went to California. So, Coriolanus knows that there's only one reason you're on his doorstep looking like an anxious mess: your brother, Rein.
“Yep.” You popped your tongue.
“Come in.” Coriolanus ordered, moving aside to make room for you to enter his shithole. As you walked by him and into the apartment that smells heavily of cigarettes, weed, incense, and rose scented glade plug-ins, your favorite drug dealer announced with a lopsided smirk, “I was just ‘bout to roll a joint.”, while shutting and bolting the door.
“It's been a while since I smoked. I could use a few hits to calm down.” You admitted, making a beeline to the lumpy couch and in extension the glass coffee table nestled right in front of it.
A glass coffee table with chipped corners that was cluttered so much that the glass could barely be seen. It was a cluttered mess of magazines, rolling papers, plastic sandwich baggies, large bags of weed, a scale, a few empty beer bottles, an empty chip bag, a red solo cup, zippo, and a cheap ashtray.
Sometimes you wonder about Coryo, who could be a dead ringer for Eminem. Hell, his looks got him the nickname of Paneminem. You know, cause he's the Slim Shady of your small bumfuck Colorado town of Panem. 
A town that both you and Coriolanus Snow, known to a very small select few as Coryo, hate with a passion. 
But, anyways, sometimes you wonder about the dealer with the platinum buzzcut (which you were shocked to find out was his natural hair color) that lives alone. He doesn't have a lot of friends and the only family he's got is a cousin, Tigris, that's a stripper at Pluribus’ club. But they had some kind of falling out after he got a dishonorable discharge from the army and barely talk anymore.
And you only know about Tigris and his brief stint in the military cause you curiously asked him about his dog tags, chewing on the corner of them during a half-high afterglow while cuddling with him.
“What dumb shit did Rein do this time, baby girl?” The hardened drug dealer asked, following you over to the sofa. A sofa that has a board under it to level and prop up the saggy seat cushions.
“He’s pissed that I got laid off and can't find another job.” You told Coryo as the two of you sat down on the couch, making it dip under your combined weight.
“So, does that mean you're gonna start helping your favorite dealer sling shit for cash?” Coriolanus slightly chuckled, slipping his hand underneath the hem of his oversized white T-shirt and pulling his gun out of the waistband of his baggy jeans; placing it down on the coffee table.
You've seen the black Glock so many times, gosh it must be at least 50 by now, since you started buying weed and hooking up with Coryo. Him handling the weapon around you doesn't even phase you anymore. It should. It really should, especially since you weren't raised around guns or violence- but apparently the more time you spend around Snow (Coryo's surname and one of his street names- the other being Snowball) the more you're being corrupted by him.
Unknown to you, Coryo doesn't want you to become corrupted by him. He thinks you're a really sweet girl that had some shit luck of being abandoned by your mom and raised hovering above the poverty line by your much older half-brother and his girlfriend. Despite your crappy conditions, you’re as sweet as honey. Or at least to Coriolanus you are.
For some reason, the hardened drug dealer that's a couple of years older than you wants to keep you safe from any and all dangers in the world. Hell, Snow's not supposed to have feelings for you, a girl that occasionally buys weed from him; comes over to his place to vent about her life, but he does.
And that's not good because feelings are dangerous in his world. The drug underworld. The side of town, hell life, that decent people don't see. 
Coryo's got people that would love to put a bullet in him; the cops also want to lock him up for at least half his life too. Having you around him so much, getting wrapped up in shit isn't good at all. It's not good for you or for him. It'll only end up bad and in heartbreak.
And Snow can't have that. Oh, he has to protect you from his world. The world of drugs and all other illicit activities that transpire in the criminal underworld. You're just too sweet to have as a permanent fixture in his life, which is why he doesn't hang with you unless you're buying weed from him. He won't actively seek you out, despite the fact that you always bring a smile to face and warm his cold, black, dead, frostbitten heart.
“Coryo, you're my only dealer.” You dryly remind him, watching as he perches on the edge of his couch; leaning forward to grab the items he needs from his chipped coffee table to roll the joint with. “And no, I'm not gonna help you deal.”
“Only dealer, favorite dealer: same thing from how I look at it.” Coriolanus retorts while his long fingers nimbly work to fill and roll a joint for the two of you to share. “It was a joke, baby. I wasn't serious.” Your dealer dryly told you before giving out a lecture of, “My line of work’s dangerous, babe. I'd never send you out into that shit just to make a buck.” Waggling a long weed scented finger in your face, he added in, “And I would've fucked some goddamn sense into you if you’d agreed to my fake offer.”
You’re not stupid, you know that Coryo’s not just a weed dealer, but that he sells some hard shit and it makes his job- hell his life- dangerous. But you don't care. You accept him as he is. You're not trying to fix him; you're fine with him the way he is. You're also fine with being his customer/sorta friends with benefits.
You know that Coryo has a lockbox full of various pills and coke that he deals. The box is shoved in the side table, that looks like a weird ass octagon, caddy cornered between his sofa and a heavily duct taped easy chair. You saw it once when you were over, crying about being cheated on by your ex and needing some weed (and maybe some big dick) pronto to make you feel better and calm you down. 
Coryo had a customer he needed to meet and sell some powder to, so he prepared the crap right in front of you. After cutting the white powder finely with a credit card (that you're sure he stole from somebody) and portioning it up in a baggie, he made you swear to never touch the hard shit. He even said that he'd shoot whoever dares to give you the shit right between the eyes if he ever found out that you dabbled in the hard shit.
And then he sent you on your way with a few joints and a promise that he'd stop by to check up on you; see if you need anymore post getting cheated on weed to help feel better with. He kept good on that promise, he stopped by and took you out for a ride. A ride that ended with you desperately riding his cock in the backseat of his car- which was parked in some alleyway in a seedy part of town.
“Calm down, Coryo. God, don’t pop a vein over there.” You sarcastically tell the platinum blonde while he finishes rolling the joint. Watching him pick up his zippo off the table, you assure him.“You don't need to worry about me being in danger from the big bag drug dealers; I'll only make my money legally.”
“Y/N…” Snow mumbled warningly, slipping the joint between his lush lips and lighting up. Taking his first hit, he sighs, “The more you hang ‘round here, baby girl, the more you might be putting your sweet lil ass in danger.” 
“I’m a big girl, Snowball. I can take care of myself, plus I trust you and know that you'd never hurt me.” You said, watching him take his second hit. 
Passing the joint over to you, he dead ass says, “I got enemies; if they think we're a thing they'll fuck you up to get to me.” Shaking his head, he leans his elbows on his knees (of course he was manspreading- he always does when sitting on the sofa). “Cops would haul you in; jam you up just to try and catch my ass.”
Your brows furrow at his words. At their implications.
“So, what, you don't want me coming ‘round anymore?” You asked, brushing your fingertips against his rough, calloused ones as you took the joint from him. “Want me to find somebody new to buy weed from?” You took your first hit, coughing slightly. “Maybe I'll drive a couple hours to Denver and buy from a regulated dealer: from the man.” You threatened, taking your second hit and passing the joint to the broad shouldered man next to you.
“You're not driving down there for weed. You hear me?” Coryo sternly ordered before taking a deep hit off the joint.
“Then don't say you don't want me around, Coryo.” You countered, watching your dealer sexily blow a large billowing cloud of smoke from his perfect O shaped mouth.
“I didn't say that, babe.” Coryo snapped, his voice a bit hoarse from smoking weed all day (or at least you think he's been smoking all day). “I don't wanna have a heavy talk while smoking. Let's table this for now, yea?” He told you before taking a second, even longer hit from the joint perfectly pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
“Yea, my life's stressful enough.” You agreed, taking the offered joint from Coriolanus as soon as he exhaled a lungful of smoke.
Coryo didn't say a word, just leaned back into his couch and snaked an arm to rest behind you. He gave you a lazy thin lipped smile as you took your hit. His icy eyes, usually void of emotions, were shinning with fondness as he watched you instead of whatever bullshit was on his tv. 
A very nice large flatscreen that somebody gave him for payment. Fuck, the damn thing was worth nearly a grand since it was some top of the line Samsung smart tv. Snow knew it must've fallen out the back of a truck, but he didn't give a shit. Meant he didn't have to use he crappy tablet to watch stuff anymore.
But instead of watching tv, his attention was on you. God, Coriolanus loves watching you smoke. He thinks you're so sexy when you smoke. This cute, lil sweetheart taking in a large burning lungful and letting it waft out of your mouth expertly. 
It turned him on.
“It's not polite to stare, Coryo.” You remind the menacing man next to you, your tone a bit teasing, while passing him the joint after finishing your hits.
“I'm not staring, so don't know what your talking about.” He firmly denied, acting like he wasn't just caught ogling your gloss coated lips, while taking the joint.
You're starting to feel a bit hazy from the weed, unlike Coryo you don't smoke around the clock so a few hits mellows you out quickly, and lean your head against his shoulder.
“Your such a fucking lightweight.” The platinum blonde chuckles, shaking his head with a hint of an taunting smirk on his lips. 
“Not everyone can smoke and fuck all day, Snowball.”
“I don't smoke and fuck all day. I'll let you know that if I don't sling my shit then I ain't making any bank.” Coryo sneered, sounding a bit insulted by your remark, before taking a quick hit and holding the joint out to you.
Your fingertips brush over his, sending shockwaves through both of your buzzed bodies, as you take his offering. “You know, I'm still having a dry spell.” You reluctantly sigh between taking your two puffs and passing him back the joint.
Coryo's not stupid, he knows why you've been having problems finding somebody to hookup with let alone date. Word on the street is that he's sweet on you. That you’re Snowball's baby. Or at least Plinth and Creed, his only friends that are also dealers, told him that's the word.
Been the word since somebody saw you and him at some house party few weeks back- disappearing into a bathroom together for a good 15 minutes or so (yea, long enough to fuck).
“Maybe I can do something ‘bout it then, yea?”
“Maybe.” You coyly shrugged.
Even tho both you and Coryo knew that as soon as the joint turned into a roach; was snubbed into the ash trash, you'd be making out and undressing each other on his sofa.
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“Hmmm…Coryo, that feels so good…” You loudly moan, feeling your cunt twitch and grow wetter, as you ride Coryo's cock.
Coryo's sucking on one of your titties while roughly squeezing the other in his large, calloused hand. His other hand is holding onto your ass like it's the most prized jewel into the entire world. 
“God, Coryo, I needed your cock so bad.” You admit to him, your voice nothing more than a pathetic mewl, as your wrap your arms around his neck- one hand pressing into the back of his platinum buzzcut while the other holds the back of his neck- while you leverage yourself to bounce faster on his dick.
His cock, very long and thick with veins that catch every velvety piece of your walls, fills your cunt up perfectly; turns you into a whinny mess. His tip hits against your cervix, causing the coil to begin to tighten inside of your lower body with every move. And the way his cock presses into your g-spot just right- oh fuck he's completely ruined you for men.
Whether you want to admit it or not, you're addicted to Coryo's cock. He's the only man that can fuck you just right. God, you would be all hot and bothered over your dealer.
Your nipple falls from Coryo's mouth with a loud, wet pop. He looks up at you, baby blues smoldering midnight with lust, and slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby. Ride my cock, ride my cock like the lil slut you are.” His hand slides over your chest, leaving one tit and going to kneed the other, as he lands two quick slaps to your ass. “Baby, your cunt feels so tight and good. Ride me, baby, ride me.”
“Fuck…Coryo…think I'm gonna cum.” You breathing tell him, forehead pressing down against his; hair curtains around your faces, as you grind your hips faster against his.
“Yea?” He asks, his voice heavy from lust and hoarse from smoking weed, as he places his hands on either of your hips. “Hold on, baby. I'll make ya cum.” Coryo tilts his chin up, sloppily kissing you, before digging his fingers into the meat of your hips and thrusting fast and hard up into you.
“Fuck!” You scream, feeling your insides literally getting rearranged, as Coriolanus’ cock plunges deep inside of you. Deeper then you’ve ever felt it before (and that's saying something since the man’s cock always leaves an imprint in your lower stomach everytime you fuck) and it's making you see stars. 
Your arms are tightly wrapped around Coryo's neck in a vice grip as he pounds up into your cunt at such a strong, punishing pace. He's fucking you so hard and good that you can feel the rubber band inside of you get ready to snap. “Coryo…I'm gonna cum.” 
“Cum, baby. Be my good lil slut and cum on my cock.” Coryo orders, his baritone rough and raw, as he presses you against his chest while bucking his hips at lightning speed.
And you do. You cum hard, moaning a string of curses mixed with Coryo's name, before leaning limply against him and panting to catch your breath. Your head's pressed into the crook of his neck and he's now holding holding your back to keep you afloat while chasing his own high. Coryo pistons his cock in and out of you quickly before groaning a couple fucks and your name while shooting his hot load of thick pearly ropes of cum deep into your cunt.
“Damn…” Coryo trailed off, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
Your head's still resting in the crook of his neck as you unwrap one of your arms from around his neck. Running your hand up and down his toned chest, you blurt out, “I'm hungry.”
“Of course, you get the munchies now.” Coryo scoffs, shaking his head. “I got some pizza rolls in the freezer, I'll nuke us some in a lil bit. Okay, babe?” He offered while trying to enjoy his blazed out afterglow moment with you. 
Honestly, he just wanted you to cockwarm him for a while because he didn't know when you'd be in that position again. 
And Coryo knows that he's going to have to cut you loose eventually. You're a liability in his line of work. Snow, the cold hearted drug dealer that doesn't think twice about popping a cap in somebody's ass, has a soft spot for you. Hell, to be honest he cares for you.
He cares a lot.
And that's dangerous. Feelings are a weakness that he can't afford in his life. The thought of you being used against him makes him sick.
And Coriolanus will never forgive himself if something bad happened to you because of him.
He knows that he'll have to cut you loose soon. Put his combat boot covered foot down; lay down some rules for the two of you to abide by. Something like he'll drop your weed off at your house then leave type of deal.
But right now, for a few minutes, he just wants to bask in your warmth.
And for right now, you're Snowball's baby.
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blue-blue-blooms · 3 days
Text
A Little Crush   
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Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader
Part 1
Summary: In which Eddie develops a crush on the Henderson sister.
You weren't sure exactly when your life had gone to absolute shit. Was it when you found a strange, superpowered adolescent girl living in Mike Wheeler's basement? Was it when you walked in on a baby demogorgan eating your cat? Or was it when you were drugged by evil Russians operating under Starcourt Mall? You couldn't even remember a time when life was normal. If someone had told you that you would become best friends with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington and fight literal monsters from an alternate universe alongside Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan 'The Creep' Byers a few years ago, you would've laughed in their face. Now? You'd survived the most traumatising events of your life alongside these people. You were bonded for life.
The last few years had also made you closer with Dustin. You loved your baby brother and his weird friends, especially since you'd spent so much time babysitting them. But no amount of love could make you say yes to what they were asking of you.
"Please?" Dustin begged, following you down the hallway as you made your way to Ms. O'Connell's class.
"No! I have, like, three essays due this week, Dustin. I don't have the time to sub." You respond.
"It's only for tonight! Lucas can't make it and we really need a sub. We're nearly done with the campaign and Eddie will kill us if we make him reschedule!" Dustin pleads.
You were really happy that Dustin and Mike had found a safe space in high school. Lord knows those two idiots needed it. Freshmen year is probably the toughest of them all. You're new, scared, and lonely. You were really glad that they'd found friends, a place where they could be their nerdy selves and feel accepted. Hell, even you'd dabbled in their interests when you'd babysat them. DnD wasn't half bad, and not nearly as hard to undertand as you once thought. You'd spent many nights in Mike's basement playing with them. The first few times, you'd get your character killed in the first fifteen minutes. But after a while, you started making progress (even though you're convinced that the party was exceptionally lenient with you after you once burst into tears over getting killed off).
"I'll do your half of the chores for a week!" Dustin exclaims.
That makes you stop.
"A week?" You turn around to look at him, "Make it two weeks and I'll sub."
"Two? Are you insane!?" Dustin yells, making a few people lingering in the hallway turn and look at you both.
"Two or no deal, Dusty Buns," You tease, "And be quick, I'm late for my class."
"Fine!" Dustin says, "And stop calling me 'Dusty Buns'"
"Why? Is that nickname just for Suzy Poo?" You tease.
Dustin glowers at you as you walk off.
♡♡♡
"So, who's the DM?" You ask as you walk alongside Dustin and Mike.
"It's Eddie, Eddie Munson. He's a senior. Long hair, wears a hellfire T-Shirt, I talk about him constantly. God, do you ever listen to me?" Dustin claims exasperatedly.
"Oh! Eddie as in your new favorite older male best friend who Steve's weirdly jealous of?" You ask, "I've seen him around. Is he the one who jumps on lunch tables and yells a lot?"
"Yup." Mike responded, "He's a bit scary when he's revved up. Just warning you beforehand in case he comes off...a bit intimidating."
You nod.
"Hasn't he been held back, like, three times?" You ask.
Before either of the boys could answer, you reach the room. The first thing you see is the table where the game is set. There are three boys sat around, all with Hellfire T-Shirts on. Your eyes fleet from one to the other until finally landing on Eddie. You recognise him immediately from the amount of times you've seen him yelling in the cafeteria.
Dustin and Mike failed to mention how cute he was, you think.
His hair was long and wavy. He was wearing multiple rings. And he was covered in tattoos. You're pretty sure you saw a few bats peeking from under his sleeve.
"Who's this?" One of the guys asks, making all three turn around and look at you.
"This is Y/N! She's subbing for Lucas!" Mike says, the words spilling out fast and nervously.
Why the hell are they so jittery?
"Yeah, she's my sister! The one I mentioned a couple days ago." Dustin adds.
"Does she even know how to play DnD?" The other boy asks.
"Okay, excuse me, I wouldn't have come if I didn't know how to play," You finally speak, waving your hand a little to get their attention.
"So, this is your infamous sister?" Eddie finally speaks, his eyes landing on you, "You know, I thought he made you up. What's your class and level? Level One Elf?"
Elf? Is he mocking me?
"Are you mocking me?" You ask incredously.
"Is he mocking me?" you turn towards Dustin and Mike who immediately start gesticulating, probably asking you to shut up.
"My name is Aeren Sirenfall and I'm a level 14 chaotic good half-elf rogue. I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I'll smile as I watch them die a slow...agonising...death." You say, your voice slow and hard as you glare at Eddie, "So, are we gonna play this stupid game or not?"
You're pretty sure you hear one of the boys mutter a 'she's terrifying' to Dustin.
You watch as Eddie's eyes slowly soften and a grin emerges on his face, "Welcome to Hellfire Club."
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ickie · 1 day
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could you write something about charles getting home from a race late at night and reader trying to stay up for him🫶🫶🫶
♡ ickie writes: blurbs !
pairing: charles leclerc x reader summary: being without charles for two weeks was hard, but it seemed like waiting for him to get home was harder. \ word count: 0.5k warnings: none !notes: hey friends :) send requests here for blrubs/more short form stuff like this ! i have some longfrom fics in the works <3 want to be added to my taglist ? fill out this form !
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your eyes felt heavy, eyes trained on the screen ahead of you barely taking in any of the plot of the episode of criminal minds that was playing in the background. it was almost 2 in the morning, and your body had wanted to go to bed hours ago... but you had promised charles you'd be awake for him when he got back. the two of you haven't seen each other in nearly two weeks, and it felt like two weeks from hell.
you weren't usually someone who was clingy, especially with charles. you had gotten used to his constant travels during the f1 season, usually making due with figuring out times to facetime, to call, to just chat, and normally that worked for you... not this time though, you felt the weeks dragging, your bed feeling empty and cold, an you couldn't even get yourself to drown in work.
as you began to nod off, finally allowing the sweet abyss of sleep take over you when you heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door which immediately had you waking up as you felt your heart rate speed up.
"mon ange..?" charles questioned as he opened the door while you basically sprinted up from your seat on the couch.
"charlie! i missed you, oh my god.." your arms wrapped around him before he could even put down his luggage, squeezing him like he was a soldier returning from war, which for some reason it felt like.
"i missed you too." he hummed, his arms wrapping around you as he discarded his luggage to the floor, he had other matters at hand.
the two of you stood in the doorway for a few moments, just taking eachother in, happy to be in eachothers arms again. "did you miss me?" charles questioned, clearly already knowing the answer.
"yes, obviously... it felt like you were gone for ages." you mumbled into his chest, finally pulling away to look at him. "i really did miss you." the words come out of you with a sigh, taking in his features.
he leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to your lips while one of his hands moved to cradle your face. "i missed you too," he reassured, pressing a kiss to your cheek, nose, and then another to your lips. the kiss began to get heated before you pulled away once again, cheeks flushed.
"i'm tired, char... can we go to bed and finish this in the morning? and we can talk about the race, too... i know you wanted to talk to me about that." you hummed before pulling him by his hand towards your shared bedroom, charles murming a response of agreement behind you.
it was nice to have your bed not feel empty again. it was nice to fall asleep with your boyfriend's arms around your body. it was nice to be able to fall asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat.
you slept like a baby that night.
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wondersinwaynemanor · 22 hours
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let's pretend that this is the right timeline because what if Dick becomes Batman at the same time when Wally becomes The Flash?
let's also say that this is just like the Justice League animated series wherein the League members don't know each member's identities (except of course Bruce, he knows everybody).
how funny would it be if Dick and Wally are together and the rest of the League are confused because all of a sudden Batman and Flash are close like super close? i mean they have witnessed how Flash gets intimidated by Batman. now, that's not the case anymore.
during a meeting:
Hal, leaning to John during a League meeting, whispers: I'm not losing my mind, right?
John, whispers back: I think I know what you mean.
Hal: Why is Flash making heart eyes to Bats????
John: I know??? Flash doesn't even look him in the eyes before.
Hal: That's so odd, dude.
Batman glances at the two Green Lanterns which makes them shut up.
meanwhile, across the table, Martian Manhunter has a light smile on his lips and Superman covers his laugh with a cough.
-
at the cafeteria:
Ollie: Hey, Dinah. Have you noticed something unusual between Batman and Flash lately?
Dinah: It is quite unusual, huh? I was talking to Hawkgirl the other day and she said she saw Flash bridal carry Bats.
Ollie: What the actual fu-
Flash, approaches the couple's table with a big bowl of nachos on his hand: Hey, guys! Mind if I sit with you?
Ollie and Dinah give a knowing look at each other. a conversation they definitely will finish later.
-
during in an another planet mission:
Batman, after announcing everyone's partners for the mission:... And lastly, I will pair up with Flash in today's mission.
Flash grins widely, that has Arthur thinking his cheeks might be hurting after that.
Arthur: Yeah, yeah. At this point, we already know, Bats!
the Green Lanterns, along with Captain Marvel and Booster Gold, snicker at his comment.
Batman ignores Arthur's comment and the rest of the members scatter to their assigned locations.
Victor, who was paired with Arthur: Was gonna give that comment too.
Arthur: It's like they are inseparable all of a sudden.
Victor, shakes his head: Well, I have seen weirder things.
-
in the meeting hall:
Wonder Woman, pulls Batman in the corner of the room: Okay, that's enough. You are truly ignoring me. What is going on with you lately?
Batman: Did the rest of the League put you up to this?
Wonder Woman, has her hands on her hips: They didn't need to. So, tell me. And don't you ever lie to me, I can see right through you, Batman.
Batman, sighs: It's hard for me to explain. I can't-I can't tell you right now.
Wonder Woman: Hera! Now, Bru-Batman.
before Batman responses, the door of the meeting hall opens and in comes Robin with his katana. the conversations between the League members come to a stop as they stare at the young hero.
Robin, glances at everyone, before approaching Flash: I need help with an important matter.
Flash, smiles and ruffles Robin's hair, as if that's second nature: Of course, little dude.
Hal, stands up from his seat: THAT'S IT! Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on????
Ollie, stands up with him: Are we in another dimension that I don't know about?????
Dinah pulls Ollie down by his arm to make him sit again.
the rest of the League members start to converse against each other.
Superman, floats a bit from his seat: Why don't we all settle down? There's nothing to be alarmed about.
Robin, shakes his head: Tt. Absolute fools.
by the time Bruce and Barry are back:
-
Bruce, pinches the bridge of his nose: Chum, you could at least be discreet with Wally.
Dick: It's not my fault, B! I swear I was going to explain to Aunt Diana then Dami entered the room.
Damian: Tt. Don't blame me, Grayson. Why don't you lecture West on how to be more responsible? He left me on read when I asked help for my Science project.
Dick, sighs: And what about Timmy? He could have helped.
Damian: I don't want anything to do with Drake.
Bruce massages his temples as he feels a headache coming up.
-
Barry: Wally!!!!
Wally, zooms right in front of Barry: I couldn't help it, okay?? Dick is just irresistible.
Iris giggles as she prepares the table for dinner.
Barry, sighs: That's alright. I'll talk to Bats on how we can explain it to the team.
Wally, grins and sits down by the table: It was hard not to laugh at them. They were so confused.
Barry, chuckles: I'm sure Hal's expression was the funniest.
Wally, laughs: You have no idea, Uncle Barry.
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ginnysgraffiti · 1 day
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jealousy, unprotected sex, violence, anger, cursing, fingering, 18+
&. PAUL ATREIDES x yn
could you blame yourself?
no, not really.
not the way you claimed it, at least.
you always placed so much trust and respect in the visions that paul witnessed in his dreams, for they usually concerned the holy war or future events not clear to his complete awareness yet.
however, you never expected something like this.
you couldn't say exactly if it was due to the fact that you and paul had established an increasingly stronger connection and intimacy, but you were sure that it was definitely because of other factors.
paul and his intuitions had been (disturbingly) accurate for weeks, and your boyfriend was even able to see your sexual needs in his visions.
you liked it, yes. it turned you on like hell, and you knew it had the exact effect on him.
you recognized paul's gaze when he had visions of that kind, you glimpsed it through his hungry eyes and you experienced it when his strong hands destroyed your body.
you lived with a certain constant tension, but your inner self knew that you just wanted that moment to come.
"shut that fuck up! take my cock like the slut you are!!" paul's hand slapped your butt, causing a bitter tear to fall from your face.
this excited him greatly and with his other arm he twisted your legs around his waist, making you arch your back to welcome his wet and warm dick as deeply as you could.
you didn't know if it was your fault, but paul was so furious he would have swallowed you alive.
"look at me in my eyes, damn it! or do you want me to call him, uh? to call your beloved feyd rautha and make him fuck you like i do!?"
"paul-"
yet another thrust of his hips brought your hip bones to clash painfully with each other.
you left a loud and pleading moan but his quick fingers choked you in time and reduced it to a pathetic strangled scream.
"who's the one who touches herself while feyd's name slips down her tongue?! her damn fucking tongue! uh?!"
"p-...paul it was just a-a...a vision-"
deadly move.
the bed creaked and for a moment you imagined the springs surrendering to its bloody rhythm.
your boyfriend grabbed your hair mercilessly, almost detaching them from the roots, while his cock was destroying your inner walls beyond limit.
you were crying, but you were just choking on your own moans and sobs, like a sinful child.
it was just a vision, in fact...but now he was going so rough and raw that crying more made you feel real slut.
your sight was still granted to you, even if your retinas were caged in tears as hot as spice.
you could see him, see your boyfriend taking your pussy with a heavenly expression on your face, perhaps the one you wore in his dirty visions.
his mouth was wide open with pleasure and his eyes closed with excitement. he moved his hips for his own burning pleasure, making you aching, sore and wet all in.
"I don't know what would turn me on more, maybe you really deserve to end up in his maniacal arms! you would regret it of course, but it would be too late to go back!!"
you wished somebody could hear you for your own sake.
the wet and sticky tip of his cock was roaming roughly inside you, but the initial pleasure had reduced you to an unbearable burning sensation. you could feel your chest confiding with every sob, but his hands would travel again, landing on your throat already full of purple, almost black bruises.
"you're so soaked, you little whore. you don't even deserve it, on my sheets!!" he groaned, his own anger causing every vein to pump on the smooth skin of his neck, making him there red with anger every time the jugular pumped before your eyes.
he grunted like an animal too proud for the zoo. he wanted to destroy you until you couldn't stand up anymore.
humiliation.
you could feel his tip reaching the deepest places. you knew that paul didn't care about protections in these extreme cases (even if it was the first time he was so out of it), thus implying that he would even risk pregnancy to satisfy his dick to the point of nausea.
"you hold on too well-"
you held the sheets for dear life when you felt him pushing away but replacing his sex with one of his agile fingers between your sores.
you gasped as he pecked at all the soft spots of yours. he knew too damn well you were too vulnerable and breakable when it came to his experienced hands.
at the same time you knew how much effort would be required of him to make you suffer precisely, hoping he would get tired.
"so fucking sensitive-"
he inserted another finger, moving at an exorbitant speed. you could feel your wetness even reaching his wrist.
ashamed again.
"p-paul-...i beg-"
he entered you using his thumb to reach your clit.
you moaned as he lapped at your walls, sliding his sizzling tongue into the heat.
he raised his lips sucking greedily, sliding two fingers in once more.
his grunts made everything wetter.
your body came moaning and shaking, your eyes rolling back.
you whimpered as you felt his cock filling you up, preventing you from coming any further.
"p-...paul, you know you're...the only one i love! a vision doesn't mean anything! i-...i- had always loved you, you're the boy of my life, the one who always had all his trust posted about me. so i ask you praying...believe me..."
your boyfriend moved one inch, hitting your weakest and most stimulated point.
you could feel a slight gag rising in your sore and dry throat as the last bit of lucidity left your body in a deep sleep.
[...]
when you wake up a strong pang pierced your forehead, making the room square and moving around you.
paul was curled up on you, not completely resting on you so that his weight didn't give you even more trouble regaining consciousness.
his white and puffy cheek was resting on your bare breasts, a hint of saliva at the sides of his red and swollen mouth.
you couldn't move so you didn't even try, until you felt something holding you back.
paul was lightly sleeping thanks to a bene gesserit relaxation technique, you could now sense that he was completely alert and attentive to your needs.
his delicate hand was hugging your wrist, listening to your heartbeat since you had probably passed out.
you knew that in the end, he loved you more than anything on that planet.
you were his duchess already.
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namism · 3 days
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alternate universe | portgas d. ace
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➳ categories: marine ace au, gender neutral reader
➳ word count: 1.4k
➳ notes: if this fic does numbers, i might consider writing a full-length story ❤️ title came from this underrated banger -> even in an alternate universe by ysanygo
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In another universe, Ace is a member of the Marines and you are his colleague from the same division.
In this universe, specifically, Portgas D. Ace, the son of the wanted Gol D. Roger in another timeline, is an exceptional Marine with a driving passion for his work and a renowned hatred for the pirates that conquer the seas. In this universe, you are Portgas D. Ace's secondhand, who later becomes a Commander under Captain Ace's leadership.
The admirable grit of your duo is one thing that the Marine upholds. Ordinary soldiers look up to you, while Admirals respect the dedication that you two put in maintaining the Marine code of conduct. There is no one else like your pair.
Lately, however, a few oddities have caught your attention.
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"Hey. Take this to Garp's quarters."
You spin on your heel as you feel a leather bag poke your ribcage. Standing beside you is your black-haired freckled partner, whose Marine uniform is yet again unruly and not a bit presentable for the title he holds and the respect he receives. Grabbing the bag from his hold, you point at a mysterious stain on his uniform.
"What's that?" you question.
Ace follows the direction of your eyes, landing on the collar of his inner dress shirt. "Uh, this? Dunno. Got it somewhere from a battle, I guess."
You roll your eyes.
"Sure. Just another one of the dark stains that you get from a battle without the sight of blood," you deadpan. Ace's lips morph into a sheepish smile. "I know what that is, idiot."
"He-he, just checking. I thought you wouldn't notice," comes his excuse.
"Everyone notices the scent of grilled meat on you, Ace. A food stain is no different." You shake your head. "Anyway, I'll catch you later. Garp's office, you say?"
"Yeah. He should be there."
After saluting to your Captain, you march to Vice Admiral Garp's office that is located in the far west wing of the base. On your way to his office, you encounter an unpleasant sight between a horde of your men and the Vice Admiral himself.
In the far end of the hallway come the marching crowd toward the where you just came from. The Vice Admiral, with his giant and brawny build, pokes out from the crowd as he walks side-by-side of what seems to be a lanky man in his 40s, his hands restrained by a pair of handcuffs made of Seastone.
As they approach, you ask one of your men in the frontlines.
"What's the meaning of this?"
The man salutes.
"Commander. We are taking the possessor of the Memo Memo no Mi to Impel Down. We must sail this evening under Admiral Fujitora's orders."
You look past the soldier to inspect the man in question. Vice Admiral Garp washes him out by a ton with their height difference, as well as the muscular composition of their bodies. His hair is matted and unkempt, and his clothes are ragged and baggy. He has his head down as he saunters with the group, like he's afraid of being seen in this feeble state.
As he comes close, however, he raises his head, then looks at you.
"You have an interesting life," he says. Vice Admiral Garp and the Marines who hear this look at him, surprised that he has spoken since his arrival this morning.
"Me?" you ask in disbelief.
The man grins odiously.
"You're the great first mate of the Spade Pirates." Stopping in his tracks, he chuckles. The Marine behind him barks an order to continue walking. Your vision darkens. "You're— you were a great pirate."
Your men look at you, some in horror and some in anticipation of your response to the strange statements. You grit your teeth.
"What the hell are you talking about?" you growl. "I was never a pirate."
He laughs.
"Of course not, but in your first life, you were."
Your look hardens into a glare. Garp yawns, and with a forceful push of the man's shoulder, he orders him back to walking forward.
"Stop yapping, get moving! I'm going to miss my nap time," he yells. The Marines follow suit. He then notices the bag in your hand. "Good timing, Commander (Y/N). Just in time for my departure. I'll see you in a few days."
The Vice Admiral claims his luggage.
"You're going, too, Vice Admiral?"
"The jerks up there said I must," he says.
You nod. "I see."
You go back to your post as you part ways with the pack. They transport the handcuffed man to the coastal area of the base, where a heavily guarded Marine ship is docked and a Seastone cell awaits the Devil Fruit user in its lower deck.
On their way to the coast, Ace runs into Garp, his grandfather, and decides to tag along to oversee the progress of the mission. Before the shaggy man is taken away into the ship, he speaks to Ace in a wary tone.
"Be careful with the power you hold, Fire Fist," he tells the Captain, leaving the young man disturbed as the ship prepares to sail away.
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Deep in the night a couple of hours later, you reunite with Ace in the mess hall for dinner. As usual, he comes back to your table with three plates loaded with different dishes, not accounting for the seconds that he will be taking later.
With some of your men gone for the recent mission, you and Ace sit alone together at a table.
"Did you know that they were on that mission?" you ask him.
Ace chomps on a rack of ribs, the barbecue sauce staining the corners of his mouth. "What mission?"
"The one with the weird guy," you say. "Uh, I'm assuming you saw him. Old guy, messy hair, looks like he hasn't taken a bath in a month?"
"Oh." He swallows. "I saw him. He was weird. I'm glad I didn't have to deal with that."
"Weird, huh? Did you talk to him?"
"He told me something about fire and a fist." The Captain laughs. "It sounds ridiculous. No wonder why he's going to Impel Down. Something must be wrong in here."
He taps the side of his head with a finger. You snort.
"He spoke to me as well," you admit. Ace looks at you through his peripheral vision as he picks up a bowl of mashed potatoes. It's heated and well-cooked, just the way he loves them. "He told me I was a pirate in my first life. Can you believe that?"
"I do," your partner chirps.
You glare at him.
"Not the time for jokes, Ace. He said that I was the first mate of the Spade Pirates, or whatever that crew is." You look down at your food, feeling the heat waves hit your face. "Is there even such a thing as the Spade Pirates?"
"We can figure that out now that Garp is gone," suggests Ace. You look unamused. "Just kidding, he-he."
After dinner, you retreat to the barracks. You change into a set of pajamas and slip under the covers of your bed. As soon as your eyelids close, you drift off to a deep sleep.
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"Come with me," he tells you, flashing a smile that you have never seen before: lips tight, eyes soft. Strands of his wavy black hair blow on his face as the sea breeze comes and goes, covering his freckles and his smile of sincerity.
"I can't leave Dadan alone." You tell him. He frowns. "I'm sorry."
"She'll be safe with Luffy. Now, come on!"
He tugs your arm toward the shore, where a small boat floats on the water with a thin sail and a couple bags of food that pool around the mast. He hops in the boat. He wears his trademark hat on his head, an orange cowboy hat with a rim of red beads and two smileys in front.
"There's room for one more person and some luggage!"
"I'd rather not, Ace," you say firmly.
Ace purses his lips together. "Are you scared?"
"Uh, no? I told you, I just can't leave this place."
He rests one foot on the edge of the boat. Leaning toward you, he says, "Come with me, please. We'll travel the Grand Line together, and in a few years, maybe we can recruit Luffy into our—"
"Your pirate crew," you finish. "I-I get it, but I can't. I'm not fit for that kind of life."
"You'll be my first mate."
You sigh.
"And what will your pirate crew be named as, Captain Ace?"
He laughs heartily, his bright white teeth showing as his eyes form into crescents.
"The Spade Pirates."
94 notes · View notes
mariasont · 14 hours
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Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus - S.R
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a/n: im so sorry in advance
‧₊˚ ✩°。⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆。°✩˚₊‧
pairings: spencer reid x reader
summary: in which spencer needed you but he needed drugs more
warnings: drug use, angst, imperfect characters
wc: 2.9k
December 19th, 2021
You were tired, each movement a chore as you fumbled with the key and heaved the door open to your shared apartment. It welcomed you with its hushed darkness, broken only by the intrusive light of the streetlamps outside, which bled through the windows and stretched shadows across the room.
It was quiet, too quiet. Keys clinked quickly onto the counter. "Spence? Are you here?"
No answer. Your brows contracted in a frown as you moved with increased urgency through the apartment, heading down the hall to your shared bedroom. There he was, on the bed, his back to you, shoulders tensed and drawn up as though bracing against something.
At the creak of the door, he turned towards you in a slow motion, his eyes glossed over, movements sluggish. The signs were unmistakable--the ghostly colorlessness draped over his skin, the faint tremor in his hands, the beads of sweat on his forehead.
His speech was slurred whether he realized it or not, words melding into each other. "Hey... I didn't hear you come in."
A cold hand gripped at your heart, dragging it down to the soles of your feet, as the vial on the bedside table glared back at you.
"Spencer, you promised," your words trailed off, choked by the tears that now glistened at the edge of your eyes, your hand dragging through your hair, while the other reached out for the bottle. "You promised me."
His gaze lingered on you, heavy and slow, as if each movement you made was effortful to follow. "I...I know. I just...I tried."
"But we've been doing so well. The therapy sessions, the support groups. I thought it was helping. You told me it was helping. You've been clean for a month."
You were trembling, your eyes searching his, but you could barely stand to look at him. It was a bitter pill that you didn't want to swallow--that the person he was right now wasn't him. It wasn't the man you loved, the one who stayed up late to braid your hair, the man who laughed at your jokes even when they weren't funny and he didn't understand them, the man you envisioned as the father of your children.
"What happened?"
"I didn't mean to."
June 2nd, 2021
You were humming to yourself, the melody trailing off as you placed your bag down, but your steps towards the refrigerator halted by the unexpected clatter from the bathroom. You froze in the spot—Spencer should be at work. Your heart was pounding, with a boyfriend who did what he did for a living you were always prepared for the worst.
Your hand found the pepper spray in your bag as you inched forward, the distance to the bathroom shrinking with each pulse of your racing heart. The door was barely open, but the sliver of view revealed Spencer, syringe clutched tightly, his damning evidence, desperation drawn across his face.
"Spencer? What are you doing?"
Shock rooted you to the spot, watching him spin around--a ghost of himself, eyes alarmingly wide and bloodshot, as he furtively tucked the syringe out of sight.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Your body reacts before your mind can, pulling away sharply from the venom in his voice. It's a voice you don't recognize. He didn't even speak to you like that during arguments. Confusion clouds your mind as you retreat, one cautious step after another.
"I...I forgot my lunch. I came home to grab it. Spencer, are you okay? What was that?"
His face crumbled, his hand outstretched in a silent plea, but you, still trembling with apprehension, still unsure, took another step back, your gut twisting at the way hurt reflected in his gaze.
"I can't—it's not what it looks like, okay?"
"But it is, isn't it?" Your hands are clasped behind you, knuckles white, eyes searching his face for something, anything. "It's exactly what it looks like. You're using."
His shoulders sag, his hand reaching behind him to stable himself on the counter as he ran a hand over his face. You were well-acquainted with his past; though you hadn't been there, his stories painted a hauntingly clear picture. If the man responsible wasn't already dead, you'd take him out with your own bare hands. 
"But Spencer it's been eight years... what? I just, why now?"
He gave you no response, just the slow, defeated bob of his head, chin sinking to his chest. You released a weary breath, the act itself a release of the pain that tightened around your heart at the sight of him. You closed the distance between you, your hands reaching out, fingers aching to weave through the strands of his hair.
"Hey, look at me, it's okay. We can get you help, okay? Everything's going to be fine, baby."
"No!" His voice erupted, too forceful, but it faded as fast as it came, his words turning to a raw scratch. "No, no... 'M sorry, sweetheart. I can't let this get out. I could lose my job."
Tears carved a path down your cheeks, unchecked, as you held his gaze, hands fastened around his arms.
"Spencer, I don't care about your job right now. I care about you," you plead with him, your fingers slipping between his. "You need help."
"You wouldn't get it, okay?" he murmured, his curls tumbling forward as his hands left yours to gently cup your face. His hands were cold. "Just give me some time to handle it. I'll stop, okay? I can stop."
You were silent, the lack of experience of the situation paralyzing your thoughts, rendering you unsure. How were you supposed to go about this? Who could you tell? You knew the consequences of telling Hotch or even Morgan, knew the depression that would follow if Spencer lost his job. You wanted to believe him; you really did.
"Okay."
December 19th, 2021
"Okay, let's do rehab."
Spencer stands from the bed, invading your space, his voice rising with a sharp edge that was reserved for moments like this. "I'm not letting you ship me away to some facility."
"Spencer, it's not shipping you away, it's getting you help, real help. I gave you a chance, okay? Multiple, actually. I did what you asked. I did everything you asked, please baby."
With each step he took, his actions grew increasingly erratic, and his words more fragmented, as he raked his fingers through his tousled hair. "You don't understand! I watched my mom, her experience with those places... I won't end up like that."
You lowered your voice, infusing it with a softness as you extended your hand towards him, only for him to dismissively shake off your touch. "Please, you're not yourself. You are so much more than this... than what it's making you."
"You don't think I know that? You think I want this?"
You took a step back, an action that had become second nature to you.
"I know. Spence, I know. Please, I'm on your side. I'm always going to be on your side," you pleaded. Your words were desperate. "I just need you to fight, and sometimes fighting is accepting that you need help."
The eyes that had once held such clarity and focus, now seemed distant, looking through you rather than at you. His words a blurred murmur. "I can stop. I just need time... I can handle it."
The familiarity of the words seemed to hit you like a truck, robbing the breath out of your lungs, tears and snot trickling down your face.
"How much time, Spence? How many more chances? I can't watch the man I love disappear before my eyes, please."
August 12th, 2021
Your back throbbed with a dull ache from a day of cleaning, but the task, weirdly enough, was one of your favorite things to do. Your fingers drummed against the wood as you started to put away Spencer's laundry, only to be interrupted by the unexpected feel of something cold and hard in the drawer. You knew it before you saw it. Inside, a collection of vials lay in a row, mocking you. 
Your heart plummeted, fingers curling around the vials, the chill of the glass seeming to seep into your skin. You felt a scream clawing at your throat and tears brimming your eyes, but your voice was trapped in silence. Each step was fueled by anger as you made your way to the bathroom. The toilet bowl gaped at you, and without hesitation, you flung the drugs into the water, freezing mid-action as the front door opened. 
Footsteps—his footsteps—echoed as if he had a sixth sense. "What the hell are you doing?"
You reached for the flush, only for his hand to encase yours in a startling grip, your eyes flaring wide as you tore your hand back. "Let go of me."
"You have no right."
"Yeah, Spencer? I have no right?" You hiss, shoving him just enough to carve out some distance. You couldn't breathe. "Why do you still have this? You told me you stopped."
You watched as he crumbled before you, tears prickling at his eyes. Each breath you took was unsteady, but your actions were certain as you pressed him into you, as close as humanly possible. Desperation clawed at you; you wanted this to stop. You wanted to take his pain, to make it yours, you'd do anything.
"'M sorry," he choked out, barely audible, his hand cradling the back of your head while the other clung to your waist. "I'm so sorry."
December 19th, 2021
"So, I'm the one at fault?"
"That's not what I'm saying—,"
Neither of you were making sense now; his confusion mirrored your own, and both of you knew this. You were angry, he was angry, both of you a well of grief, feeling everything and nothing simultaneously. 
"Well, it sure sounds like it Spencer."
"I just need...space."
The words bit you on the ass, prompting a hollow laugh to rise from your throat--a sound that bore a closer resemblance to a mangled sob than anything.
"Space? You don't get space, Spencer." Your words didn't sound like yourself, like you were listening to someone else speak them. 
May 23rd, 2019
You were sweet. It was what had first drawn Spencer to you, the way you radiated a warmth that was almost overwhelming to everyone. You were the kind of person who never met a stranger, nurtured by your innate effort to go out of your way to put a smile on people's faces.
There you stood, delicately snipping away at a bouquet's ends, a soft hum escaping your lips, with blue headphones nestled over your ears, isolating you in a peaceful bubble as you worked. You hadn't seen him approach, frankly, hadn't heard him either, so when you chanced a glance upwards, his unexpected figure prompted a yelp, sending the flowers tumbling to the ground in a colorful cascade.
In a clumsy rush, your headphones were swept off, a stream of apologies tumbling from your lips as you absorbed the sight of him. Short brown hair that framed a face with eyes so stunningly brown they shimmered like molten gold in the light, and he was impeccably dressed in a grey blazer over a rich red sweater, with a crocked tie and white dress shirt underneath. 
You thought he'd have to be dying of heat, but he didn't show it.
"Sorry," he murmured, a toothless smile spreading wide across his face as he dipped his head for a closer glimpse of you.
Under the weight of his gaze, you felt a sudden surge of self-awareness, regretting not putting a little more effort into your appearance that morning.
"No, that's my bad, I should really try and pay attention to my surroundings more often."
He gave you another smile in response and that one nearly killed you, teeth and all, and it was so disarmingly handsome it felt like a bolt of lightning had struck, almost knocking the wind out of you. 
You were seized by the kind of overwhelming yearning you'd only seem in those cheesy romance movies. You wanted to ask him out, but that was a first for you, so you found yourself blatantly ogling him, utterly transfixed.
"Do you work here?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah! Sorry, how can I help you?"
"Do you have any bouquets with Lathyrus odoratus?" he asked, eyes roving among the arrangements. "They're a member of the Facabeae family. Interestingly, they have the unique capability to convert atmospheric nitrogen into a more usable form through nitrogen fixation."
You gave him a lopsided smile. "Do you just know that?"
"Uh, yeah."
You hummed in response, fingers tapping the counter before moving between aisles to find what he was looking for. "These?"
"Perfect," he said with a nod.
As you assembled the bouquet, your hands moved nimbly, and you couldn't help but steal a glance at his left hand--no ring in sight, a promising detail. But he was buying flowers, that couldn't be a good sign for you.
"Your girlfriend will be ecstatic with these beauties."
You thought you were being slick, but he'd later tell you he saw right through you, I mean, of course he did.
"Oh, no, no girlfriend," he clarified, almost too quickly, sending a flutter through you heart. You concealed your budding smile by bowing your head, giving the bouquet your full attention. "They're for my mother."
You practically melted. "That's so sweet..." 
You lingered on the words, feigning the need to ask for his name, it was a stretch, sure, you didn't really need his name in this context.
"Spencer. Spencer Reid."
You returned your name with a beaming smile. "Well, it's wonderful to meet you, Spencer Reid."
You presented him with the completed bouquet, ringing him up while discreetly stealing glances his way.
"Thanks."
"Yeah, anytime."
He came back every week after that.
December 19th, 2021
"You're not the person I fell in love with."
Now that stung. You felt like he had just knocked you on your ass and he hadn't laid a hand on you. Mostly because he was right. You weren't. 
You were on edge more than not, your patience wearing thin more than you'd like to acknowledge, and you couldn't remember the last time you had flirted with Spencer like you used to. You couldn't remember the last time you begged for him to come to bed just to feel his arms around you, couldn't remember the last time he'd come home early just to see you, the last time you'd had sex.
You used to be so happy. You used to surprise Spencer with his favorite homemade cookies, leave hand drawn comics on his desk, carefully adjust his tie every morning, listen so intently to every lengthy explanation he had for everything.
You wanted to blame him, wanted to scream, to fight, to kick, but your body refused to cooperate. You were cemented in place, your stare heavy, silently begging him to take it all back, but the words hung in the air, unrevoked.
"You're right." A softness flickered in his eyes, his hand moving forward, but you stepped back. "Don't touch me."
"I didn't mean that—,"
"You meant it, or you wouldn't have said it," you said, your voice cracking as tears stained your face. "I can't keep doing this, Spencer. I've tried, god knows how much I've tried, but it's like you're not even here. I don't recognize my own reflection, let alone us. I love you, Spencer, with a love so deep it fucking scares me, but I can't stand by and watch you kill yourself."
April 23rd, 2024
"One sec!"
The bell over the door jingled, prompting you to snap the inventory boxes closed, nudging them back with your hip as you maneuvered through the storefront, balancing the boxes towards the desk. 
"Here let me help!"
The boxes obscured your view, but a hand with neatly polished nails gracefully relieved you of one, placing it gently on the ground.
You let out a light laugh, easing your own box to the floor. "Thanks, I somehow always underestimate the weight of soil."
The woman was breathtaking, the kind that could make you second-guess the fairness of fate. She seemed more suited to the glossy pages of a fashion magazine than the worn-down, way overdue for a deep clean, flower shop.
"How can I help you?"
"Just a dozen roses, please."
You offered her a brief nod, reaching for one of the pre-arranged roses from the shelf behind you and placing it down on the counter.
"Could you leave a note?" she asked, her glittering finger lightly pressing against the fabric of her dress. Now that was a rock.
"Of course," you say, your hand deftly sliding open the drawer beneath you to retrieve a card. "Just let me know what you want it to say."
As she spoke, your pen hurried to keep pace. "A year of marriage and a lifetime to go."
You flashed her a warm smile. "Congratulations. Who should I make it out to?"
"Spencer. Spencer Reid."
Nausea churned in your gut, somersaulting into a sharp, searing sting. This must be some cruel joke. But the date wasn't April 1st, and the woman's serious expression stripped away any hope of humor. 
You swallowed hard, writing the name of the man you'd thought would be your husband. While ringing her up, you did everything in your power to conceal the tremble in your hand and the tears that were just moments away from falling. He hated roses.
Your eyes followed her as she left, watching her every step to the car and out of the parking lot, until she was just a speck in the distance. The realization hit you like another wave of nausea--why could he get clean for her and not you?
125 notes · View notes
delirious-donna · 18 hours
Text
Coffee And A Smoke [Higuruma Hiromi]
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an: another suggestion for Hiromi that I couldn’t pass up. I feel like this has potential for more but I’d really have to do some plotting and brain crunching before I could commit.
pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader
warnings: smoking (is it obvious from this that I don’t smoke and never have? I hope not but…), SFW, very light flirting if you squint, mention of toxic habits, alcohol mention
Masterlist
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Higuruma always felt a pang of sympathy for new starts. They had a habit of reminding him of his earliest days as a freshly qualified lawyer, his excitement to change the world and be the type not to back away from the difficult fights.
For a while, he had been that man and took on David and Goliath level cases to test his resolve, to prove that a person with enough determination and hard work could be the victor. Sadly, it didn’t last long.
He hoped you wouldn’t fall from grace quite so quickly or inelegantly as he had once done. Hiromi might not care for his reputation being tarnished these days, the dross he was tossed like it was a kindness to him, but he would never wish it upon anyone else.
You appeared only a handful of years younger than he was, and he wondered if you were maybe late to the career. It made him wonder how bad your previous line of work might have been to make you consider this circle of hell as your new livelihood. There was more than a chance that he would never know, he didn’t exactly draw people to him in the workplace. Rather he was looked upon mostly like a kicked puppy that everyone felt sorry for but never approached to comfort for fear of catching fleas.
Picking up his pen, the chewed end finding its home between his teeth, Hiromi returned to his work and put you out of his mind.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to the man over in the far corner?” You wondered aloud, the young secretary designated to be your ‘day one buddy’ glanced in the direction you were looking and visibly grimaced.
“Another day. He’s busy,” she countered with a wave of her hand.
Frowning at her dismissive tone and attitude, you looked over again and met with tired, hangdog eyes. He blinked, seeming unperturbed and gave a small bow of his head before turning back to his screen. There was something about this man, you couldn’t for the life of you figure it out, but something intrigued you more than it should.
The interaction did not go unnoticed. “That’s Higuruma Hiromi. He’s rather… particular about the cases he takes. Generally, he keeps to himself.”
You wondered if he was lonely, or maybe not well versed in socialising. Whatever it was, there was an aura surrounding his corner of the large office, like a perpetual rain cloud that threatened to rain but the cloud never burst.
With so much to learn and an entire new work environment to navigate, you quickly forgot all about the mysterious Higuruma and focused on finding your feet.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later did you find yourself in his presence. After a tortuous phone call with a troublesome client, you found yourself in desperate need to indulge in the bad habit you had sworn you’d given up, a cigarette.
Stepping outside into the small office courtyard, you fumbled for the emergency packet buried in the depths of your bag. You cursed when you realised you might have the actual cigarette you craved, but there wasn’t a lighter in sight, not even tucked away in one of the handy dandy compartments.
“Need a light?”
You whirled around and nearly landed on your behind at the sudden voice, coming face to face with Higuruma who had the good grace to look sheepish for scaring you out of your skin.
“It seems so,” you said with a shrug, stepping closer as the man held out his lighter and flicked the flame into life for you. “I don’t smoke often.”
Higuruma hummed in understanding, glancing down at his own half-finished cigarette, tapping away the excess ash. “I’d like to say the same, but I’m out here more often than I’d like.”
That first inhale felt like heaven, the heat in your throat a familiar sensation and you held the thick smoke in your mouth as long as you could manage, finally blowing it out in a steady stream into the sky.
“Bad habit?” You asked, leaning against the metal railing that enclosed the small courtyard space. It was cool even through your trousers, grounding you back into the here and now.
“I have a lot of those, smoking is probably the least bothersome. I can go days without a single cigarette, or I could smoke two packets within a single office day. There never seems to be an in between,” he joked.
It was hard not to appraise him whilst you both stood there, enjoying your respective cigarettes. His shirt wasn’t quite the brilliant white of a new or well cared for garment, nor were the tailored creases in his trousers especially neat or crisp. The tie around his throat was loose as if restless fingers had tugged it that way, and his hair was equally as ruffled. Yet, there was still something undefinable that made you smile at these observations, that endeared him to you.
His eyes were adorned with dark circles from sleepless nights but there was a subtly vibrancy to those eyes. The brown irises with golden flecked in the right light and the smattering of laughter lines at the corners assured you that this was a man who liked to laugh, even if you were yet to hear it in the workplace.
He wore an equally tired smile, however, it brightened when you addressed him directly and you wondered if he thought hi would ignore his presence. If that was maybe what he was used to, and that thought didn’t sit well with you.
“Oh yeah? Let me guess… you enjoy a bottle of wine on most nights?”
“Or two,” he countered, making you laugh.
Honestly, you couldn’t understand why he was considered the black sheep of the firm. From everything you had seen and heard, he wasn’t the money grabbing type and maybe that was the reason for him being a pariah, but that wasn’t a reason to brush him off or avoid him outright.
“Y’know… people will talk if they see you chatting with me.” Higuruma crossed an arm over his chest, a defensive gesture if ever you saw one.
You hummed in thought. Not that you really cared what people had to say about you. “I think I can make my own decisions on who I should and should not speak with. Are you always this cautious?”
“Some might say I have no caution at all.”
“Then why are you trying to warn me off?”
Higuruma’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, a plume of smoke emitted from between his pursed lips to momentarily obscure his face. “Didn’t realise I was under cross-examination. You’ll go far,” he mused before crushing out the remnants of his smoke and bringing out a packet of mints from his pocket.
“I don’t know about that… this career isn’t exactly what I anticipated.”
He waited, sensing there was more you wanted to share, and he had no desire to scare you away or shut you down prematurely. You couldn’t put your finger on the reason why you wanted to confide in him, perhaps you felt some kind of kindred spirit in him but that would be foolish having known him all of five minutes.
“Higuruma, do you fancy a coffee? My treat,” you offered in a rush. Embarrassed by how nervous you were to ask at your big age, and more so worried that he would refuse you flat out.
“I’d like that, but there is something I’d like much more.”
You held your breath, not knowing what he could possibly wish for more. He chuckled at your look of concern, stepping forward to offer you a mint from his pack.
“I’d really like to know your name.”
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dazai-ritualist · 2 days
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I CANT HELP IT! IM SORRY but we know Al dies in his late 30s early 40s so we can assume he at least got to watch his kids grow up into young adults? What happens when Al dies and reader is “set free?” Only to figure out her children aren’t all who they seem to be? I can see reader’s son possibly becoming a corrupt detective/cop and perhaps her daughter gets into fashion or becoming a teacher? Im not sure what Emi’s future might be but im very curious on your thoughts!
UH OH, SHE’S LOSING HER CONTROL!
[hold up! read the rest of the story first!!]
— and when it seemed like there was no more hope, the monster of the house was slain.
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and so, 12 years passed by like a breeze. despite being trapped in this hellhole called home, it was all worth it. for the children, all of it was worth it. noah, just 22 and he’s already a fine policeman, keeping the people in line. and the family treasure, emilia— aged 15, and yet a smart little girl. starting her own little farm outside, from cotton to potatoes, and keeping the family afloat. such wonderful kids, it’s a miracle alastor’s manipulations didn’t rub off on them.
1933, times were tough— the stock market crashed, the bank had failed, and everyone was living off of rations. thankfully, radios gained more popularity, and alastor had profited off of it, making sure his little family was fed with a roof over their heads— he seemed to not only enjoy the newfound wealth, but also the suffering in the streets... suitable for a monster such as himself. and while he worked, you and emilia had used the cotton from her farm to create and sell dresses, your own little effort to the community.
still, that didn’t change the hell that was outside your little safe haven. it wasn’t rare for young men to knock on your door, begging for work. and while your heart felt for them, it couldn’t change what alastor had in mind for them. he’d bring them in— down into the basement. and that very night, suddenly there was meat on the table.
you knew what he did, you weren’t an idiot. he gave you that man’s flesh. but, you did what you had to do. for the children, so that they’re well-nourished. and against your better judgement, you followed through, serving what seemed to be a steak. your husband seemed to love your ultimate submissiveness, one way or the other, you’d give into his ways. although it made your stomach churn, the very thought of eating the poor man, it was hard to live during these times, it was what had to be done.
and, it was why you let your children on a hunting trip with him. “little emi’s first trip! you excited, lil’ sis?” noah laughed, patting his sister on the head. “don’t do that, you’ll mess up my hair!” emilia frowned back. alastor laughed at the two as he held you by the waist, “oh, those two!” he mused, looking back to face you. “we’ll be home in time for dinner, my love. i love you so very much!” he smiled, kissing you all over. you hated whenever he did that— when he acted like he’d done nothing wrong, yet you didn’t fight back. what point was there to it? 15 years, and he’s managed to keep you in this house, there was no more use in fighting back.
“okay. just keep them safe, alastor.” you said as he pressed his nose against your’s. he smiled against your lips and laid onto you one final kiss. “don’t you worry your pretty little head, my dear. i’ll protect them with my life.”
and, that was the last time you saw him.
when your children came home, they looked frightened. “m..momma…” emilia whimpered. “oh, baby, what’s wrong? where’s dad?” you asked, running towards them to make sure they were safe. “…ma…” noah let out. “dad’s dead…” he said, ashamed to look you in the eye. “he’s… dead..?” you asked, dazed. “momma! i-i didn’t mean to!” your daughter cried, pulling you closer to hug. “you didn’t mean to..? emi, what happened?” you pulled your daughter far away enough to see her teary-eyed face.
“…i shot dad…” she said, hiccuping in-between words. your eyes widened at her words. “d-dad was on his knees in the dirt, so i thought he was a deer ‘n i shot him…” she explained, wiping her tears. “momma, i don’t wanna go to jail.” she cried out. “don’t worry, baby. you won’t go to jail. you didn’t mean to…” you kissed her on the forehead.
standing up properly, you looked your son in the eyes, wet as he tried to hold his tears back. “baby, i need you to show me where dad is, i’ll take care of it.” you said. “y-yeah, ok, momma… i’ll take you there…” he nodded his head. “emi, go prepare dinner while i’m gone. momma will take care of this mess.” you told her as she nodded her head.
when you arrived, alastor’s body was mangled beyond recognition, the only way you knew it was him was by the clothes he wore— it must have been someone’s hunting dogs, that means it’s possible somebody already discovered the body, and is headed to the police station. the only possible reason alastor could have been here and on his knees, as emilia said, must have been to dispose of a body. so, the ground beneath you must have a corpse. only the lord knows how many bodies alastor could’ve hidden here. but then, you had an idea.
but, first, you had to check. you dug the dirt below alastor’s body. and lo and behold, was the corpse of noah’s friend-turned-enemy, kenneth. “d…did dad kill ken..?” noah asked, afraid of the answer. “i suppose he did.” you said, frowning over your own answer. did the years truly turn you as heartless as him..? “now, noah… if you don’t want your sister to be locked away in a correctional facility, you’ll help me. understand?” you asked, speaking for the first time with a strict tone. “y-yes, momma…” he said as he pushed back in about 3 feet of dirt. he helped you lower his father’s mangled corpse into the grave, pushing back the remaining 3 feet of dirt.
“now, dear… i need you to head back to your station and see if any hunters reported a corpse in the forest, okay? and, make sure those police dogs you have sniff this area, so that they can find dad…” you said to him, explaining your plan. “yeah, okay, momma… i don’t want little emi going to jail…” he said. this was wrong, but it was to protect your family. for the children, right? you won’t let alastor ruin the family even in his death. if those cops found out that emilia killed alastor, they’d try to punish her for all of his crimes as well.
and with that, you returned home. and when noah came back, he returned triumphant. “they bought it, momma. don’t you worry, emi. no cops are gonna take you away. if they try, i’ll kill ‘em” he assured her, hugging his little sister as the weight on her shoulders fell.
this is good, right? even though it resulted in alastor’s death, all three of you are free from his manipulations. and, yes, you framed an innocent hunter— but, it was to protect the family. after all, you raised such wonderful kids, they don’t deserve to go to jail. they’re so kind, they’d dirty their hands for each other. and… that’s a good thing, isn’t it? they’re loyal to their family.
but then, the guilt finally started to settle in.
and it weighed on your shoulders when they finally lowered alastor’s casket into the ground.
1891 — 1933
loving husband and father
he will be missed by all who knew him
the monster was finally gone.
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Just curious in the prison AU how did the character yk react when being arrested? I’ve seen a few videos and some people like yk resist arrest or like make it difficult for the cops to load them into the car and others just kinda let it happen? I’m just curious on how much of a struggle did the cops have when trying to arrest the proxy’s/pastas
THIS MAY INCLUDE SPOILERS FOR FUTURE PARTD OF THE PRISON AU, IF YOU DONT WANNA SEE, SCROLL PAST.
I like to think the proxies got raided, so I'm going to take some inspo from my Insane Asylum AU
Maybe Toby left a piece of evidence that led the cops right to them. For this mission, the Proxies were staying in a motel. It was the middle of the night, Toby's watching lord knows what, Hoodie's looking at some photographs he took of the victims, and Masky's smoking outside. But, as Masky's smoking, he sees bunch of cop cars in the distance. He'd run inside and tell them that they gotta leave now.
However, they got caught. Hoodie would probably be the most willing. Hoodie's the most logical of the group and he knows damn well that he isn't going to get away unless they all have a plan. He'd have the most annoyed look on his face but he wouldn't do anything.
Toby almost gotta away. Toby's had so many run ins with the cops, starting back when he was a late teenager. He would've gotten away to if his tics didn't start to act up like crazy. He'd be screaming, maybe bite a cop or two, they wouldn't definitely put a muzzle on him because he'd been sent to jail before, as mentioned in Part 1.
Masky is similar to Hoodie where he's more so annoyed then anything. But, I can see him being extremely paranoid about what the Operator and Slenderman are going to react, not even Kate has gotten caught and she works alone. He'd curse out the cops, but during the car ride, he'd be mumbling to himself, and maybe even have a panic attack.
Now to everyone else!
Ben, Jeff, and EJ were also caught together. They were all hanging out in a cabin where Jeff killing the current residents. However, Jeff had left a piece of evidence at one of his old crime scenes that led the cops to them.
EJ was dissecting one of the people Jeff killed with Ben looming over him, smoking a blunt while asking him hundreds of questions. Jeff would come over and now all of them are looming over this dead guy's body, his stomach cut open with his kidneys ripped out.
I just wanna note that these guys were the hardest to find because they're not always together, EJ eats the evidence, Ben's killings rarely leave a mark on the real world, and Jeff is good at what he does.
When the door got kicked in, the cops stared at the three in horror.
Since Ben was high as hell, he'd start laughing while saying they were fucked. Might I add, if Ben wasn't high, the three of them deadass could've escaped no problem because the cabin had a TV.
Ben was caught first and he'd be laughing, yelling "Fuck the police" while spitting on the floor. The most unserious motherfucker.
EJ killed a good chunk of the cops, but then his hunger kicked in. He ended up eating a cop, but he was able to get knocked out because of it.
Jeff got carried away and got knocked out as well.
Liu's arrest was actually recorded on live TV.
After going on a minor killing spree in a city he was in, he was seen in the background of some guy's livestream.
Liu's identity was roughly unknown by the police, and they had a few sketches of what he might look like, and unfortunately for him, they had one that was really close.
When Liu realized he was being followed by a helicopter and a few police cars, he booked it. The entire chase was live, and in broad daylight too.
He ended up cornering himself after he ran into an abandoned building. When he realized he was caught, he just sat down and waited for the cops to catch up.
When the cops walked in, they saw him sitting on top of a crate, his head facing the floor as he spinned a knife in his hand, humming a lullaby to pass the time. Tbh with you, he let himself get caught. When Jeff found out, he was so fucking pissed off. When he saw him enter the inmates ward, he yelled and playfully hit him for 30 minutes straight, Liu couldn't care less tho.
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blue-blue-blooms · 11 hours
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Eddie Munson Headcanons
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Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader
A/N: I'm super depressed and this is my only form of comfort these days. So, here you go! If you have any requests, send them my way! Let's make the most of my depression and write these fics.
You're Steve's younger sister and in your senior year. You've definitely ridden on Steve's coat tails and gained popularity for being a Harrington. You're top of your class, a cheerleader, and friends with the 'popular kids'.
Admittedly, you were a bit self absorbed and consumed with the illusion of popularity. You didn't have real friends, no one that you could trust and be your true self around. You think getting dragged into finding Dustin's pet demogorgon was the best thing that could've happened to you. Besides the obvious trauma of everything that happened in '85, you found real friendship.
Robin and you became attached at the hip. You regularly hung out with Nancy. You were still popular but just severely humbled. '85 knocked your ego down a few pegs. You changed.
You changed so much that you didn't even ignore Mike, Dustin and Lucas when they first started highschool! I mean, even after you saw Dustin's Weird Al shirt. You looked out for all of them.
You'd known of Eddie. You'd seen him around at school. He was always really loud, abrasive, and kind of intimidating. He'd jump on top of lunch tables, going on spiels about 'forced conforming'. He was a little odd, a little rough around the corners, but you didn't know enough about him to form an opinion.
You officially met Eddie after Dustin, Mike, and Lucas joined the Hellfire club.
They were having one of their DnD meetings and needed a ride home. You were staying late for cheer practice so you agreed to drop them home.
You'd been waiting in the parking lot when they all came rushing out, 15 minute late.
"Hey, Dingus 1, 2, and 3! I've been waiting for 15 minutes!"
Eddie and everyone else in the Hellfire club (excluding the party) looked shocked when they saw you, to say the least.
"You know Y/N?" Eddie whispered to Dustin.
"Yeah, she's one of my best friends."
"You're friends with Y/N Harrington? Queen of Hawkins? Are you aware of the fact that we exist on the opposite spectrum of the stratosphere from her?" Gareth spoke incredulously, "Are you making this shit up?"
Before Dustin could respond, they all reached where Y/N was standing.
"Y/N! These are our friends from Hellfire! This is Gareth, this is Jeff, oh and this is Eddie! He's the president." Dustin excitedly spoke.
You gave them all a smile and a shy wave, "I've heard so much about you guys! These three were really excited when they found out about your DnD club."
"Do you play?" Gareth asked, immediately being smacked on the arm by Jeff who whispered: "I highly doubt that, idiot."
You smirked slyly and said: "Oh, I used to play with these guys all the time! We've been on many adventures. Fighting demogorgons, slaying a Mind Flayer, we've done it all." Of course, this wasn't a complete lie. You hadn't ever played a DnD game. Hell, you weren't even entirely sure what it was. But you had fought monsters with them. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas looked at you with incredulous looks and rolled their eyes, nodding along with your lie.
Of course, Eddie, Gareth, and Jeff didn't know the truth. They were pretty amazed that you even knew what DnD was.
After that first meeting, you'd smile and greet the Hellfire club whenever you saw them around school.
You'd also stand up for them if any of the jocks were messing with them.
Like the time Jason had shoved Gareth in the hallway and called him a 'freak', you'd immediately smacked the back of Jason's head and told him to 'fuck off'.
This is becoming more about the Hellfire club than Eddie so let's refocus.
You realized that you and Eddie were in some of the same classes. Now that you'd officially met him, you became more aware of him. Suddenly, he was everywhere.
The first time you'd chosen to sit down next to him in class, he'd choked on the water he was drinking.
"Are you okay?"
Y-yeah, just..water..wrong pipe. What're you doing here?"
"In this class?"
"Uh-no-like here, with me, in this seat?"
Oh, I'm sorry! Do you want me to move?"
No! Sorry, that came out wrong! I just-I wasn't expecting you to interact with us...you know the whole being 'freaks' thing...it might affect the way people see you."
"I don't care how people see me. Besides, I'm also a freak. Maybe just a...closeted freak."
Eddie swore that was when he fell in love with you.
Suddenly you were hanging out with each other all the time, sitting together in class, talking in the parking lot after school, giggling over random stuff in the hallway.
The more Eddie got to know you, the more he fell in love.
He'd find dumb reasons to touch you, passing random notes with doodles in class so he could briefly touch your hand, pretending like you had an eyelash on your cheek so he could take it off, ruffling your hair jokingly, putting his arm around your shoulder so he could whisper 'top secret DnD campaign stuff' (which was obviously just an excuse).
Your relationship developed and soon you'd be over at his place learning how to play his guitar, or going through his music collection, or forcing him to do his homework.
The first time you kissed was after Eddie accidentally confessed that he liked you. He heard that you were going out on a date with some random jock from school, and it was like all his nerves went into hyperdrive and the words spilled out. He thought that you'd never talk to him again, that he'd ruined everything, but you'd simply smiled and kissed him gently.
"I like you, too."
Bonus content: Dustin cries after you two get together. Happy cries, though. Mike gags any time he sees you two even remotely close to each other, even when you're not touching.
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cathartic-crypt · 2 days
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im continuing my benny posting by sharing my benny hcs. in no particular order. and very quickly typed up. enjoy ^_^
- tattooed. he has lots and lots and lots of tattoos from when he was a boot rider. all kinds of tattoos. some desert themed, some things based around him, some others depicting things he just likes. he doesnt mind them much nowadays, hes so used to them that he sees them as part of his skin. although hes a little bit iffy about showing others his old tattoos. hes got an image to upkeep after all - speaking of boot riders. he got a canine knocked out by bingo during their fight. so he got a gold one fitted shortly after he became the leader of the chairmen. and it glints like hell - he wears lots of gold jewellery. especially pre-war rings. he prefers engraved ones, ones with little images etched into the metal or ones with short messages rather than ones with gems. he also wears a cross necklace under his shirt - despite his gun and necklace...hes not christian. like at all. he doesnt care for religion and hasnt read anything about the engraving on his pistol or the meaning of necklace. he just likes how flashy and elaborate the imagery looks - by the time the courier rolls around hes 31. he's also 5'5". - he has a dad bod. i will personally fistfight anyone who draws him muscular and dehydrated. living the cushy and comfortable life of a casino boss means hes not some lean bodybuilder - however...thats not to say he ISNT strong or that hes unhealthy. he has a really high endurance, and can last for a long while out in the desert. also he doesnt like admitting it but hes probably a fraction better at straight up punching someone than shooting them at point blank range - since he was always outside and always doing something, he used to have super calloused hands. but again, casino life means theyre much more pampered and soft now - however hes still got one hell of a grip. he can very easily grab you by your shirt and throw you out of the front door without even breaking a sweat - hes Bi. theres literally no way he isnt, fuck you. BUT he really isnt one for meaningful romantic connections, he much prefers something quick with zero extra baggage (i.e. one night stands, friends with benefits) - hes super nosy. and almost terrifyingly good at recognising and remembering faces. he sees a new face in the tops that he doesnt instantly match to a regular? he needs to know their name. and then he promptly loses all interest because the mystery is lost and the people turn out to be, by all things considered, really fucking boring - even further...anyone who doesnt fall for his charismatic charm (or, even worse, doesnt care about his reputation) becomes a nuisance and he NEEDS to at least form some sort of impression on them, be it good or bad. like full on “if you dont form an opinion about me i will pull my own hair out” - he used to have an absolute love for geckos. he didnt tame them, he was more so inclined to hunt than to nurture, but he would feed scraps to the younger ones - which meant they began to follow him around from time to time... not anymore though. he thinks theyre dirty and brutish and a reflection of what it was like to be a boot rider - hes called Benny Boots (mockingly) by people around the strip. at least by those who knows about the three families past. other than that his last name is Gecko. he also personally calls himself Benny 'New Vegas' sometimes as a sort of boastful title because he thinks hes the shining face (not the heart, mind you - thats House) of the strip - hes a huge morning person. its something he picked up, and cant get rid of, from the boot rider days. he wakes up super early in the morning, rising with the sun - and hates sleeping in because he feels like hes wasting time. he goes to sleep pretty late, since new vegas is awake at night, but he doesnt feel tired. a couple hours of sleep is good enough for him.
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thebest-medicine · 2 days
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Day 24: Pinned
Tickletober 2023 - My Hero Academia - Class 1A - lee!Bakugo, lee!Midoriya
[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]
[ao3 link]
A/N: first my hero academia fic??? neeed!!!! angry boy need tickled sometimes. god help whoever does it tho.
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Summary: Bakugo is all three things: loud, angry, and ticklish. One of them is less obvious than the others, and he wants to keep it that way. 
Words: 1.4k 
Loud, angry, and ticklish — these were among the many words that could describe Bakugo Katsuki. Like his quirk, he was often explosive with his voice and his temper. Ticklish, though? That was a pretty well-hidden feature, and one that not many would be willing to try with him! Not that anyone had in a long time. 
Until today. 
The sound of tittering laughter and chatter, much too loud and too cheery to be school-related, drew an already grumpy Bakugo toward the common room of the dorms. It seemed to be the place to be, he realized, when he walked in and saw most of his classmates relaxing around the couch, laughing and talking.
“What the hell are you all laughing about in here?” Bakugo barged in, asking loudly.
“Bakugo! Come on, Sero was just telling us the funniest story about—” Ochaco waved him over.
Bakugo cut her off. “Why don’t you losers stop sitting around laughing and wasting all day and get some goddamn work done! Ugh, Icy Hot and I have been working twice as hard as the rest of you because of our extra classes, and now you’re all slacking off?! It’s gonna be way too easy for me to surpass you! Where’s the challenge in that!? Now get off your asses and stop slacking!!!” 
Everyone stared back at him, their giggling long gone.
“It’s Sunday afternoon Bakugo…” Momo sighed.
“Yeah, come on, even heroes need to rest.” Tsu added.
“It’s good for you to relax a little. We’re all still training super hard!” Mina assured her classmate.
“Shut up! You’re all just a bunch of slackers and losers!” Bakugo grumbled loudly.
“Would it kill you to relax? Maybe smile a little?” Kaminari asked.
Bakugo turned to look at him, glaring with fuming rage. 
“We’re not even doing anything to bother you, Bakubro, come on!” Kaminari bargained. “If you want to keep studying then go back to your room, you don’t have to sit here watching us relax if you don’t want to join us.” 
“I WANT YOU TO TAKE YOUR STUDIES SERIOUSLY SO THAT IT MEANS SOMETHING WHEN I KICK YOUR ASS!!!” Katsuki yelled back.
“Seriously, come on…” Kirishima sighed. “You know we’ve all been working hard, we deserve some chill time!” If he squinted, it almost looked like Bakugo was steaming with anger.
In the dorms, with his guard down, focused on arguing with his friends and surrounded by his classmates, Bakugo didn’t sense the approach of his childhood friend from behind until it was too late. 
With a wide grin on his face, Midoriya had managed to creep up behind the grumpy, yapping dog that was Bakugo. He remembered something about his friend from a long time ago, and though he hadn’t tried it in many, many years, he was sure it would help here.
It was a matter of moments between when Bakugo was yelling back at Kirishima and Kaminari and when he finally felt the presence of someone approaching from behind. He ignored it for a second too long. Midoriya’s voice was friendly as it chided. “Kacchan, why are you being so mean?” And suddenly there were accompanying fingers pinching along Bakugo’s sides. 
“—GET BACK TO WO-AHHIIHHH!” His rant cut off into a very un-hero-like squeal at the unexpected tickle. Bakugo’s face, which was already red with anger, ripened further as he slowly spun his head to look behind him at Midoriya. “What. The FUCK!!!” 
“What just happened!?” Kaminari asked, smirking.
“Was that you Bakubro?” Kirishima said in disbelief.
“Deku, what did you just do?” Ochaco laughed.
“Oh my gosh! Bakugo are you ticklish?” Mina grinned, wiggling in her seat.
“That’s so cute!” Tsu agreed.
“Wait what? I missed it!” Sero turned to face him better.
Bakugo growled. “Deku…” 
Midoriya’s eyes widened as he saw Kacchan shift his weight to launch an offensive his direction. “Wait! Kacchan, I’m sorry don’t kill meEE—” He quickly sped off with a squeal out of the common room and into the hall as Bakugo bolted after him as fast as he could without shooting out explosions.
“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU, DEKU!”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you would react so much!” Izuku laughed as he raced ahead of his rival and old friend. 
“SHUT UP AND PREPARE TO DIE!”
The rest of the class left them to it, not wanting to incur the wrath of a furious Bakugo as Midoriya just had. They were grateful to their classmate for allowing them to continue relaxing for a few more hours without having criticisms screamed at them. Bakugo had a point, but so did they. They would have to work hard but still relax hard, play hard. 
Down the hall, Shoji picked up the sound of a scuffle before everyone heard crash and tumble followed by the familiar sound of Midoriya’s laughter… though this time it sounded much more frantic than it usually did after a good story or funny joke. 
… 
Izuku didn’t know what he had been thinking when he’d tried to tickle Kacchan for a brief second in the common room of their dorm… He had been yelling at everyone and looked so angry, Izuku just wanted to distract him for a moment and maybe get him to relax or smile a little. He remembered having tickle fights with Kacchan when they were kids. It had been a long, long time. This time, he got the jump on him, just for a moment. It was in front of their classmates, so other people now knew Kacchan was ticklish. It made sense that he was so angry, he was angry a lot. But, it had been nice to catch a hint of his smile. Even if he had embarrassed him a little. 
Now that he’d done it, though, he realized too late the wrath he had provoked. 
Izuku sped down the hall as fast as he could, trying to race back to his dorm room in time to try to lock himself inside—though… Katsuki seemed mad enough that he might just activate his quirk and blow the door down. He didn’t make it far enough to find out, though. Bakugo crashed into him, shouting obscenities as he knocked them both to the ground. 
“Wait! Kacchan don’t! Not out here!” Midoriya yelped as Bakugo landed on him. He knew he was caught.
“Stupid Deku, see how you fucking like it!!” Bakugo growled, pushing Midoriya into the floor and kneeling over his thighs. He reached down, jabbing harsh, tickling fingers ruthlessly into Izuku’s sides. They squeezed up along his ribs and down to his hips. Izuku screeched out a laugh before flailing helplessly where he was already pinned. He tried to reach back behind him to grab or block a hand. 
“KACCHAHAHAN— I’M SORRYHEHEHE!” Izuku shrieked through his laughter. “IHIHIHI- I CAHAHAN’T BREHEHEATHE!” He cried, kicking into the floor. 
“Good! Die!!!” Bakugo answered, loud and angry, as he made a grab for Izuku’s wrist and hauled it up over his head. 
“NOHOHOHO— STAHAHAHAHOP!” Izuku cackled. 
Bakugo drilled fingers into his exposed armpit, and Midoriya felt tears welling in his eyes. Bakugo was ticklish, certainly, but Midoriya was… well neither of them had ever met anyone else so sensitive. How strange a trait for one determined to be the number one hero — to crumple and fall apart in the face of some simple tickling. Though, he wouldn’t call what Bakugo was putting him through ‘simple’. 
The way Bakugo saw it, the others may have seen that he was ticklish, but if he could make enough of an example out of Midoriya, no one else would dare try it again. He hoped. 
Midoriya’s other arm flailed and tapped out helplessly on the ground as Bakugo took advantage of every ticklish spot he could remember. The tickling hand even snuck down beneath him to claw against his stomach. “PL-PLHEEHEHEHEASE KACCHAN IHIHIHIHIHI CAN’T! CAHAHAN’T TAKE IT! AHAHA-STAHAHAHAHAHA—” 
Katsuki leaned in closer, still tickling viciously. “Never. Ever. Fucking. Do that again.” He paused for a second, his hand freezing against Izuku’s sides. “Understand me?” 
Izuku breathed in a few times, panting for air and giggling each breath out. After a few seconds, he spoke up. “Y-You mean like in front of people or just in general?” 
Bakugo’s face went red as he shouted, “IDIOT!” and started tickling anew. 
“WAHAHAIT NOHOHOHOHO!”
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