#fic: mostly ghostly

[stars-obsession-pit]

Following an accident, Danny wakes up in Gotham City in a DC universe. Lacking any forms of ID or possessions beyond the clothes on his back, he’s forced to commit some crimes to survive. Minor crimes, but still.

And then he gets caught.

During the court proceedings, they come to the mistaken conclusion that he’s a Meta suffering from some psychiatric issues such as Cotard’s Syndrome (a real rare condition where a person holds the delusional belief that they’re dead/don’t exist/etc).

Thus, between his “need for mental treatment” and the concerns about housing someone with his unique physical traits, he is sentenced to spend time in Arkham Asylum. He’s under pretty low security aside from the anti-Meta stuff and has more freedoms than some other inmates, but it’s still not a great experience. Even at the best of times, Arkham is hardly a nice place.

Some of his fellow residents are decently chill all things considered, but lots very much aren’t.

[booklover223]

Okay but Danny would TOTALLY have a praise kink because of his obsession specifically I’m talking about “good boy” “hero” “protector” etc it could be sexual or not

Non sexually he could get super happy if like an old granny calls him a good boy and pats his head when he saves her from a ghost attack (or rogue attack if dcxdp) and no one’s every called him that like omg he blushes bright red/green and his core sings because he’s helping and actually being appreciated I just want my boy happy😭 (this whole post also applies to Jason Todd)

[itsjaywalkers]

I hate your jegulus

okay!! happy for you or sorry that happened, idk, i don't really care

[splendidsupernova]

"Stiles heaves a long-suffering sigh and wraps his arms around Dom, pressing his lips to his temple. The good thing about their three-inch difference in height is that it’s perfect for forehead kisses."

—METANOIA

[ell-arts]

The Veil  |  Cover Art

-

Fanfic Summary: Betrayus is growing more and more cunning, and it's only a matter of time before he succeeds in defeating Pac and getting what he wants. Neither Pac nor his friends are willing to let that happen. It's all just a matter of persistence and siding with the right allies.

That is, until they all realize that a different force is at play, ready to change the rules of the battlefield.

-

Over the course of the next few weeks, I’ll be posting artwork that I’ve made for each chapter of this fanfic. 

The Veil can be read on either Ao3 or FanFiction.Net.

Click here to start reading!

-

[bee-temporary-garbage-inactive]

Link

hey fic finders

looking for one of those "Jason is suddenly trusted with a small child and becomes a father" fics. Jason has a panic attack and calls bruce, who is busy being held hostage by the joker. The Joker allows the call to go through and the moment Bruce hears his son crying for help, he beats the joker half to death with a chair and destroys a car in an attempt to get to jason faster.

i'm like 90% sure this is dc x dp, but i could be wrong

[onlyhereforthestories]

What's Spooky Season Without Jump Scares (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Happy Halloween guys! I hope you enjoy this little fic, I'm sad spooky season is over for another year. Next up for me is Chica 👀 stay tuned.

Alexia was used to the calm, steady version of you. The one that only spoke when necessary, who focused intensely on training and barely cracked a smile, except for when you were alone together or with your families. You were always a little softer then. So, when the calendar flipped to October, she wasn’t expecting the sudden shift. It wasn’t like it was your first Halloween season together, no you had been together for 3 years now, but this was the first one in your now shared apartment. Something that had you buzzing with excitement for what the month might bring.

The apartment was still mostly quiet, but a new energy had settled in, you were planning something.

Alexia was chopping vegetables for dinner, humming a tune under her breath, completely unaware of the fact that you had been sneaking around the apartment, plotting your first Halloween scare. You moved silently, pulling a black hoodie over your head, the hood obscuring your face. You’d painted your face hastily with white and black makeup, mimicking the look of a ghostly skeleton, but the effect was more comedic than terrifying.

As Alexia diced the carrots, you crept up behind her. You didn’t say a word at first, just let the eerie silence do the work for you. Then, in your deepest, most unnatural voice, you whispered, “Alexiaaaa...”

Her shoulders stiffened, and for a split second, you saw her pause. Then she turned, knife still in hand, her eyes wide and alert.

You stood there, hands raised in a mock zombie pose, and shouted, “BOO!”

She flinched, but the startled look in her eyes quickly melted into annoyance. “¡Joder! What the hell are you doing?” she exclaimed, her face flushed with surprise, though there was the tiniest hint of a smile playing at her lips.

You dropped the act, giggling like a child, completely unlike your usual self. “Come on, admit it. I got you!”

She stared at you, shaking her head with mock disapproval and rolling her eyes as she spoke. “You're ridiculous. And I could have hurt you, I have a knife in my hand idiota.”

You stepped closer, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Ridiculously good at jump scaring, you mean.”

Alexia gave a long drown out sigh, but you could see the amusement in her eyes. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive the rest of October with you.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty more planned,” you teased, winking at her. “Just you wait.”

---

It was a crisp autumn morning, and the Barcelona girls were gathered on the training pitch, doing their usual warm-ups. You and Alexia had arrived together, but everyone was focused on their stretches and drills. What they didn’t know was that you had a new prank up your sleeve, and Alexia, although playing innocent, was completely aware.

You had spent the night before gathering the perfect prank materials: fake spiders, a small wireless speaker, and a creepy mask that you knew would send a few hearts racing.

As the team gathered for tactical drills, you casually slipped the speaker into one of the benches near where Patri and Mapi were chatting, adjusting their socks and discussing their latest match. You gave Alexia a sly nod as she jogged by, and she gave you a quick wink, pretending not to know what was coming.

You crouched behind one of the equipment carts, pressing play on your phone. From the speaker came a low, eerie growl followed by a ghostly moan.

Mapi immediately looked up, frowning. “Did you hear that?”

Patri turned her head, puzzled. “What the…?”

Suddenly, you popped out from behind the cart, wearing the creepy mask, a grotesque, zombie-like face. You lunged toward them with a guttural scream, arms flailing wildly.

Patri yelped, practically jumping out of her boots, while Mapi’s eyes widened in shock. “¡Dios mío!” Mapi shouted, stumbling backward and tripping over her own feet.

The rest of the team erupted into laughter, even Alexia couldn’t hold back, bending over as she chuckled at her teammates’ reactions.

Patri’s face flushed with a mixture of fear and embarrassment. “¡No tienes vergüenza! I’m going to kill you!”

You laughed, pulling the mask off and shaking your head. “It’s Halloween! Lighten up!”

Mapi, still catching her breath, pointed at you accusingly. “You’re going to pay for that one.”

Just as the girls were recovering, you reached into your pocket and threw a handful of fake spiders at them, causing a fresh wave of screams. Even Pina, who was nearby, shrieked as one of the rubber spiders landed on her shoulder.

Alexia jogged over, still laughing. “I think you’re going to get banned from training at this rate.”

You grinned at her. “Oh, come on. You have to admit, it’s kind of fun.”

Alexia shook her head, but her smile gave her away. “Alright, alright. But if you scare me again...”

You raised an eyebrow. “If?”

Alexia shot you a playful glare. “*When* you scare me again, I’m getting revenge.”

---

As October marched on, your love for Halloween grew more intense. Decorations appeared in every corner of your shared apartment. There were fake cobwebs draped over the shelves, plastic skeletons hanging from the bathroom door, and pumpkins placed strategically on the window ledges. Alexia, though amused by your enthusiasm, was also slightly wary. Every room had become a potential jump-scare zone.

One night, after a long day of training and some light teasing from the girls, Alexia entered the apartment, her guard up. She flipped on the lights and scanned the hallway, expecting you to pop out from behind the door at any moment. You had been home for about an hour due to her having a captains meeting after training. But there was nothing. Just an eerie silence and the usual orange glow from the Halloween lights. Maybe you were finally giving her a break after the almost daily small jump scares she had been having this month.

She walked toward the bedroom, her body slowly relaxing as she reached for the door handle. Suddenly, the door creaked open just a crack, on its own.

Alexia froze. “You’re not getting me this time.”

The hallway light flickered for a split second, and that’s when she saw it, a dark figure standing just inside the door, its eyes glowing red.

“¡Por el amor de Dios!” she shouted, stumbling back as you emerged from the shadows, your glowing-eyed ghoul costume in full effect.

You burst into laughter, the fake eyes you’d attached to your mask bouncing slightly as you doubled over. “I can’t believe I actually got you again!”

Alexia glared at you, though a smile was fighting to break through. “I thought you were done with the scares.”

You shrugged, removing the mask and setting it down on the table. “Halloween’s not over yet.”

She sighed dramatically. “One more. One more scare, and I’m hiding your costumes.”

You smirked, leaning in closer. “You love it.”

Alexia’s eyes softened, and she pulled you into a hug, your body warm against hers. “Maybe just a little.”

---

Halloween finally arrived, and the apartment looked like something straight out of a haunted house. You had decorated every inch of the place, from flickering candles to eerie sound effects playing on a loop. Alexia, though initially resistant, had gradually started to enjoy the spooky atmosphere. She even helped carve the pumpkin that sat proudly on the kitchen counter, though she complained the entire time about how messy it was.

That night, the two of you settled in on the couch, surrounded by snacks and the soft glow of your spooky décor. The jump scares had eased up, well mostly. You promised to go easy on her tonight, she had suffered through pretty much a whole month of your antics.  

As you cuddled under a blanket, Alexia leaned back against you, her fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm.

“You know,” she said softly, “I wasn’t sure I was going to survive your Halloween obsession this month.”

You chuckled, squeezing her a little tighter. “I know I went a little overboard.”

“A little?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Okay, maybe a lot.” You leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. “But you survived. And look at you now, I have you enjoying Halloween like a pro.”

Alexia smiled, her eyes glancing around the decorated room. “I guess I did. Maybe next year, we can make it even bigger.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Bigger?”

Alexia’s smile turned wicked. “Oh, yeah. But next year, *I’m* planning the scares.”

You laughed, but there was a flicker of nervousness in your voice. “I think I’ve created a monster.”

She just grinned, settling back into your arms as the Halloween movie played in the background. Whatever the future held, you knew that this spooky tradition was now something the two of you would share, year after year. The girls better watch out next spooky season that was for sure.

[clockwayswrites]

Rumors of a Prince - p1

“You could always ask Jason to pay her a visit,” Dick said from where he was lounging, mostly upside down, on the couch in Bruce’s study.

Bruce frowned at him. “I am not going to have Jason kill Vickie Vale.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said kill!” Dick held his hands up or, rather, given his position, down. “I just meant puts some fear into her. Maybe kidnap her for a few days so that she can’t write any more libel.”

Bruce found himself smiling, slightly and against his better judgment. It faded away when he looked back at his laptop. “At least in this case, it wouldn’t do much good. The stories is already out there and unfortunately, Vale’s take on it has captured the public’s attention.”

“Tim knows… and Babs.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“And if those two know, Steph knows. If Steph knows, she’s ranted to Cass.”

“Yes.” This family was impossible to keep things secret in.

“Welp,” Dick said and swung himself to be sitting up normally— or as normally as Dick ever sat. “Then I guess we better tell the others. How do you want to divide this?”

Bruce was grateful that Dick was willing to be his partner in this. “You would be best to take Jason. I’ll speak with Damian. Either of us can catch Duke when he returns from his patrol.”

Dick nodded. “And Thomas?”

“I think perhaps it would be best to have as much of the family in the manor as possible,” Bruce said after a moment. “If he destabilizes, I want him to know that we are around and that he is still safe.”

“Alright.” Dick slapped his knees once and stood. “I’ll drag Jason back then. You know he’ll come if it’s for Tom.”

“Make sure he reads the article before he comes over.”

Dick grimaced. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be best. I’m going to bring some food too. Good luck convincing Dami that he can’t go and stab Vickie Vale.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dick chirped as he left for his task.

Bruce dropped his hand.

‘Gotham’s Pale Prince’ stared back at him from the screen.

---

AN: I'm actually surprised this one won the poll! But here we are. I don't expect this will be long.

For those who haven't read 'Shadow of a Bat' well, 1- do, I think it's my best fic. 2- Danny = Thomas and he's more ghostly than not.

Stay delightful darlings!

[reticent-writer]

Hii is it alright if you do headcanons on what Alastor would be like as a father with the reader as his teen daughter?^^

◡̈⋆ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(●’◡’●)ﾉ

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

bro idk why but I imagine Alastor having a moody child (most fics I've written with him are projecting this)

like you hardly ever smile

he tolerates your attitude because he cares for you like his own child but if he ever asks you to do something you better do it

I feel like Alastor would own your soul but just for power

he wouldn't hold it over your head like he does husk

He doesn't mind you hugging him

If you aren't his actual child then you'd had to have known him for a long time to get this close

mostly likely while he was still alive

He makes mental notes of your likes and dislikes

any time your feeling down he will notice and try to make you feel better by either talking or giving small gifts

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

art by @ghostly-one

[minnlahzz]

amethio, silver x hex maniac reader.

requested

amethio and silver! oreo and jalapeño duo (this is separated.) sorry for the big wait, school is biting my toes. uhh silvers is very short, because I feel like ive mentioned most of the things silver would do in other fics. I don't wanna seem repetitive or uncreative!

— AMETHIO

amethio would initially be unsure what to make of you. your eerie aura and cryptic way of speaking would intrigue him, but he’d be cautious. he’s logical, so he’d view what you do as something he needs to understand rather than dismiss, because every person is different why judge them. he’d probably think, "are they like this all the time?" when you casually mention something spooky like the “ghosts watching over” him.

amethio’s edgy demeanor and your crazy words would balance each other out. he’d act as the grounded counterpart to your whimsical nature, often giving you a deadpan look when you go off on a supernatural tangent.

“amethio, the spirit (random gengar) says this battle will be tough.”

“the spirit is stating the obvious.”

your comments often catch him off guard, not because he gets scared of it. it's just becuse you just say it so randomly it's kind of concerning, leading to some amusing exchanges.

“The ghosts approve of you, amethio.”

“good to know. now, tell them to get out out of my way.”

your unpredictability often throws him off balance. whether it’s your cryptic compliments (“the spirits find you quite handsome today”) or your sudden affection, he finds himself flustered more often than he’d like to admit.

your spooky vibe complements his calm and calculated style perfectly. he’d use your unnerving presence to throw off opponents while he plans a precise attack. he might even ask you for “spiritual advice” during critical missions, though you’re never quite sure if he’s joking or went insane.

he isn't really phased from ghosts, neither is his pokemon. ceruledge is one of the few pokémon that isn’t fazed by your team. it often stands protectively between amethio and your more mischievous Pokémon like (for example) misdreavus, who enjoys pranking people by floating off with their belongings. ceruledge gets really paranoid and assumes all your ghosts are evil at first.

amethio never disregards your interests, and tries his best help you enjoy them, even if he's not a fan of it himself.

— SILVER

silver is honestly pretty game with whatever crazy stuff you do, he didn't stop loving you after you did questionable things in order to see ghosts (he'd be apart of it anyway.)

first time meeting you silver already felt discomfort/concern. (not negative) he’d wonder if you had some hidden agenda, but over time, he’d notice how kind and sincere you are, even with your random outbursts, which would ease his initial distrust.

silver reluctantly tags along when you explore spooky ruins or abandoned buildings to “connect with spirits.” he’d grumble about how impractical it is, but goes anyway. (his honchkrow becomes your flashlight during these adventures.)

your spooky jokes and ghostly references catch him off guard, but he grows to enjoy your sense of humor. he won’t laugh out loud, but the corner of his mouth quirks up when you say something particularly clever. silver might even use them too, but to an extent. gold never understand the jokes...

when travelling on a mission sent by professor oak by the dex holders (gold, and crys mostly) he makes sure to find and pick up eerie trinkets and paranormal items to give to you on his return. he'd just silently sneak them in his pocket without the other two knowing, sometimes what he does though leads to a bigger problem.

"hey silver what are you doing! this place is completely abandoned don't touch that!" crys silently yelled (if you get it) in the corner.

silver unresponsive, shrugs and picks it up... suddenly a locked door opens "WHAT DID YOU DO?" gold yelled from the other room, echoing through the entire building.

"silver you pay for my life insurance."

"it's just another room, there might be something important we could give to professor oak there. you guys are just overreacting."

"GHOST!"

silver knows alot of paranormal information because of you, and it definitely saved the 3 idiots lifes maybe twice. lesson learned: don't go to abandoned haunted building, (unless you're a hex maniac the ghosts are pretty cool with you.)

it's not just him that gives the other trinkets, it's also vice-versa! you gift silver supposedly "haunted" charms, he's skeptical but carries it around anyway. when he wins a tough match, you proudly point at the many trinkets you gave him.

"the spirits were with you, horray!" you say celebrating.

"or maybe it was my training, but you know that works too."

silver has a beef with your pokemon, doesn't matter which he hates them and they hate him. (don't worry though) your pokemon like taunting him and whenever he complains, you brush it off as them bonding together.

“tell your pokémon to stop stealing my items,” he says, holding up a poké ball with a stone faced expression.

“it’s just trying to bond with you!” you reply.

“...bond less.”

[kalmiaphlox]

WIP Wednesday

thank you @xxnashiraxx for the tag! Excited for the tadpole shenanigans!!

Heres another peek at my body Swap fic that I have lovingly titled "Damn bitch, you live like this?" until I find a proper name.

Astarion has found himself in the body of his partner Hircine (and vice-versa), and he remembers, oh yeah, she has tits, the ones he really likes to grab.

And Hircine is now much stronger than she's ever been.

Astarion looks down, worried there might be a lump nestled under his skin when all thoughts of slaad eggs invading his body are replaced with other, more lustful urges. While Hircine searches around the room, flipping over sheets and muttering angrily about their predicament, Astarion takes this opportunity to really learn his wife’s body—for his eternal obsession and her future enjoyment, should they ever return to their bodies. He loves her breasts. A lot. They’re perfect in every way. Impossibly soft, round, and heavy with the slightest, barely there sag that makes them even more delightful, always overflowing in his grabby hands, but not so large that they dwarf her toned body. He also can't forget the ghostly white nipples that are not too good to eat, especially since they match her pretty little mouth when her lipstick has been wiped away. He cups them, Hircine's smaller hands sinking into the malleable flesh, though the tight silk of her dress keeps them from moving around too much. There's never been a lot of thought put into how this feels for Hircine other than that it's very, very good when he's pinching or pulling on a nipple if her moans are anything to go by. The fat of her breasts being touched, it doesn't feel good or bad, mostly neutral as if he's grabbing at any other part of his body. Maybe it feels different with someone else touching them… Experimentation can come later if they don't change back soon. His lively heart thrums in anticipation of his next move. The pads of his fingers brush over where he’s sure her nipples lie and— “Ahhh—!” A high-pitched whine rips past his lips as his legs squeeze together involuntarily. Gods below, that was— Hircine looks up from her destructive scavenge, a scowl furrowing her manicured brows, twisting her mouth down. “Seriously? Stop touching me!” She hisses. “How do you keep your hands off yourself all day?!” Just that touch sent the most delicious tingle down to his nether regions. “I don't have much desire to touch myself,” she says, stepping beside him, “especially while out in public.” She grabs his wrists firmly, pushing them from her breasts and Astarion yelps with shock. “Ow! Can't you be more gentle?” He demands, yanking himself out of her grasp, massaging his wrists. “You damned brute!” Red eyes blink in surprise as Hircine looks down at her—his body’s hands. Oh gods, this is so confusing. His body is now hers, he needs to commit to that. She speaks quietly. “I thought I was being gentle… I barely touched you.”

Tagging if you'd like to share @eraserspiral, @busy-baker, @preciouslittlebhaalbae, @honeybee-bard,

@nyx-knox, @bardic-inspo and @ladyduellist

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Vidas Pasadas (Past Lives)

PART THREE: THE HERO ALWAYS GETS THE GIRL

Also on AO3

Part One // Part Two // Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Latina!Reader (Spanish speaking)

WC: 5.9k words

Chapter Summary: It was always meant to end up this way, wasn't it? Some things never changed.

Warnings: Minors DNI this fic is 18+, canon typical violence, reader kidnapped by raiders, the ghoul being the ghoul, cursing, some injuries (very mild whump), mentions of death/loss, heavyyyy angst (happy ending tho!), only a little Spanish dialogue, love confession, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (fem receiving), irradiated creampie (with RadAway after lol), aaaaand that's all I can think of but please lmk if I missed anything!

---------------------

In the Past….

You had been restless all day, unable to explain why. Something just didn’t feel right, and not knowing what it was made you feel even worse.

Your house had felt large and empty as you paced around it, smoking. All those long hours, you were acutely aware of the clock’s ticking — Time relentlessly marching on, waiting for no one.

 Once you’d actually gone to bed, you’d tossed and turned long into the night. The moon shone faintly through a gap between the curtains, barely illuminating your bedroom. You could not face the yawning void of solitude you found at that hour, so you got up. 

Things had gotten much trickier in a short amount of time. There had been many more bomb drills, more fear and paranoia, and substantially fewer job opportunities.

Cooper was no longer acting. He simply wouldn’t get cast anymore, so he had to look in other directions. The loss was tremendous, for yourself and the industry. Moviemaking didn’t quite feel the same anymore, its luster having faded.

You saw him much less, but you still tried to keep in touch. You’d even helped him care for Janey a few times when he had to take an odd gig that would run late. Slowly, he was becoming a shell of the man he formerly was, and you felt helpless to stop it.

But that night, you couldn’t hold yourself back, leaving your house in just a coat and your night dress, like a ghostly apparition. The drive there was nebulous, like you were moving on autopilot. You drifted up the steps and pressed the buzzer to his apartment a few times.

When he came down to see who was at the door, he looked a little worse for wear, like he’d been having a hard time sleeping, too. He ushered you inside, not wanting you to be out in the cold.

“What happened?” Cooper said, worriedly searching you for any sign of injury. “It’s the middle of the night, why didn’t you telephone?”

“I’m so sorry, Coop,” you said, as if waking up from a trance. “Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head, leading you to the old, rickety elevator and pressing the button to his floor. 

“No, I was up. Lucky you didn’t wake Janey, though. She’s with me this weekend.”

You covered your face with your hands, ashamed. “Oh God, I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, worrying even more at your clear distress. He guided you to his unit, which was smaller than you’d imagined. It’d been a while since Cooper and Barb’s sudden divorce, but he barely seemed to be settling in. The walls were mostly bare, and the sparse furniture seemed to have been included with the unit. There were only a few pictures, mostly of him and Janey, but a few of just his daughter. 

He had never really told you what happened, but the change had seemingly occurred overnight. He simply said he was done, that he couldn’t even look at her anymore. You were still pretty baffled about the whole thing, but it wasn’t your business to pry about. You simply supported him however you could.

Barb had not gone easy on him, having the best lawyers Vault-Tec could afford. He had Janey some weekends, but he didn’t get to see her nearly enough. It was a bad situation altogether, and you were sad for everyone involved.

“Cozy,” was all you could whisper after a moment of silence, to which he snorted derisively.

You went to sit on the couch, arms around yourself. The two of you kept your voices soft so as not to wake Janey, and you felt a pang in your chest knowing she was near. She was such a bright ray of sunshine, and you were glad that she and Cooper had each other despite everything.

And especially on a night like that one, when the world seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation of something.

“Drink?” He offered, already pouring himself a glass of scotch in the small kitchen.

You nodded, sniffling, trying to keep the tears that threatened to crawl up your throat at bay. He shuffled back over to you, a frown still on his face.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” He encouraged, handing you the glass and sitting next to you on the couch. 

How could you possibly explain the feeling of grief you had, when you hadn’t really lost anyone? 

Not yet, at least.

“I don’t know, I just… I had to see you,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “I didn’t even think about it, I just got in the car and drove.”

“Well, ain’t that sweet,” he chuckled, the sound a little awkward. “But it couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No, Coop, I can’t even explain it. If I tried, I’m sure you’d think I’m crazy.”

“Try me,” he said. “You know you can trust me.”

You set your glass down and scanned his features for a moment, committing them to memory. Then, without a word, you leaned in and brought your lips to his chastely.

 You had kissed dozens of times in the past, but for the first time, it was as yourselves. Love was the only thing you could give him then. Years worth of it had accumulated inside of you, with nowhere to go… until that moment. 

But your heart was breaking at the same time. Instinctively, you realized this would be your only opportunity to do so. Tears swam in your vision, but you turned your face away before he could see the one that escaped.

Cooper blinked, too stunned to react. You sniffled, pulling back, hands wringing anxiously. He shook his head, snapping out of it.

“Why are you crying?” He asked, hands cupping your face. “I ain’t that bad of a kisser, am I?”

You let out a sad little chuckle, which sounded more like a sob.

I love you, you wanted to say. I love you, I love you, te amo con todo mi corazón*. Please find a way to live, whatever happens.

(*I love you with all my heart)

“Please, take care of yourself,” you pleaded softly instead. “Give little Janey a kiss from me.”

And with that, you got up from the couch and left him like a thief in the night. He’d called for you, but you’d been faster, running down the stairs and heading back to your car. You simply couldn’t handle it anymore. The waiting, the fretting, feeling so fucking helpless…  Wouldn’t it be better just to get it all over with?

The rest of the night blurred into a gouache rendition of melancholy and self pity. In the morning, as soon as you were able, you phoned Bud Askins — the Vault-Tec executive who had organized your admission into Vault thirty one — to ask for an expedited entry.

And just as he picked up the phone, you looked out the window and saw the enormous, fiery mushroom cloud rising as if from the depths of hell itself.

——————————————

The Present….

“There she is,” one of the raiders pointed at the old TV screen, where one of your movies was playing. “No wonder she looked so goddamn familiar. Got ourselves a movie star, boys.”

“Gotta be a clone or somethin’, no way she’s lived this long,” another one said.

“What does it matter? Whoever buys her won’t be able to tell the difference. Fresh meat’s hard to come by, and this is the luxury kind,” the first one gruffed, looking back at you over his shoulder. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

You could only glare at him from your spot against the wall. You were gagged, your ankles and wrists bound by old rope. Two days had passed, in which the raiders hadn’t done much other than tie you up and haul you around. You’d gotten a few scraps of food, but not nearly enough to even be considered a snack. Thirst and hunger clung to your very bones, but you were lucky that your survival instincts had kept you going so far. 

You might not have been a fighter before, but now you were determined to keep yourself alive at all costs. It hadn’t taken long for you to realize that things were truly ruthless in the wasteland, and it all basically narrowed down to kill or be killed. 

You weren’t sure yet if you’d be able to go through with something like that, but you had no other choice but to try if it came down to it.

You were still holding out hope that the ghoul would come find you, but you were well aware that you couldn’t just rely on that possibility. You were running low on time, unsure of how long exactly the potential transaction would take to complete. Or if they would grow tired of searching for buyers and try to possess you themselves. 

You would not let it get to that, though. You were just trying to devise the least recklessly foolish escape plan possible.

The raiders had holed up in an old supermarket, which seemed to be their usual base. Most of the empty, broken shelves had been pushed against the walls to make space for whatever furniture they had managed to find. A few shelves surrounded the space like a makeshift barrier, shielding the rest of the building from view.

Rations, old clothes and other miscellaneous objects were scattered about carelessly, but you didn’t notice many weapons, which was potentially a good sign. More valuable loot was stashed in empty freezers, and you were frankly surprised they hadn’t tried to shove you in one, too.

The raiders went back to watching the movie, your own voice sounding strange and faraway to your ears. And then… you heard Cooper’s voice, that southern drawl bringing your attention to the screen. It was the scene of his Feo, Fuerte y Formal speech, when his enemy was at his feet.

Though the screen was riddled with static, you could still see the determined look on his face. Hearing his voice again gave you strength, but it also gave you pause. Why did it feel like it hadn’t been that long since you’d last heard it?

You thought back to the day you’d been abducted, still unsure if you had hallucinated the ghoul screaming your name. Even his voice had sounded different there, but not unfamiliar – more like a dream that had slowly devolved into a nightmare.

 There was a nagging feeling at the back of your head that wouldn’t let you rest until you had some answers, but it would all have to wait for a later time. 

For the next hour or so, you slowly moved your wrists back and forth in an attempt to loosen the ropes. You went still whenever any of them looked at you – like a deer in headlights, sweat trickling down your spine – but luckily, none of them seemed aware of your actions.

At some point, you had to fully stop as most of them prepared to go out scavenging, leaving only one man behind to guard you.

“Shouldn’t give you much trouble, but you know what to do if she does,” the leader had said, looking right at you with a shit-eating grin. 

But the raider left in charge hadn’t seemed too worried about you being a threat, falling asleep on one of the couches soon after they had left. When your wrists were rubbed raw and bloody by the rope, you soldiered through the pain until adrenaline kicked in, and you managed to loosen the knots enough to free one of your hands.

You swallowed down the nausea that crawled up your throat at the sight of your mangled skin. Keeping one eye on the sleeping raider, you began to attempt untying your ankles, but then you heard a crash at the front of the building. The raider woke up with a start and you had a millisecond to hide your hands behind your back once more. 

“What the fuck was that?” he muttered, looking around frenziedly.

You shrugged helplessly, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he stood, grabbing a weapon. You whimpered, momentarily fearing he might use it to prod you further, but he stayed put.

“You better not try any stupid shit, alright?” He said, pointing it at you in warning. 

You nodded quickly and he crept around a shelf, disappearing from view. It was eerily silent after that, except for your blood thundering in your ears. You waited for him to return, unmoving, for what seemed like an eternity. 

There were a few more sounds somewhere out front, but you couldn’t quite discern what they were. Still, you didn’t really want to wait around and find out. Who knew if you’d get another opportunity like this?

But just as you decided to push your luck and reached for your ankles, you heard footsteps. And with those footsteps, there was the familiar, faint clinking of spurs that you had come to know.

The ghoul suddenly rounded the corner, holding the raider’s bloodied machete, which matched the blood spattering his clothes. Talk about a guardian angel, you thought, somehow finding humor to keep yourself from absolute hysteria – even as your eyes welled with overwhelmed tears. A muffled sound escaped your throat, but there was still tape covering your mouth, so all you could do was widen your eyes.

“There y’are,” he said with what seemed to be a relieved grin, but it was short-lived. “Oughta kill you myself for makin’ me go through all that trouble to find you…”

He crouched in front of you to free you from your binds, tossing the weapon aside. You gasped as he ripped the tape from your face, momentarily glaring at him for his lack of gentleness. But your own relief outweighed any frustration you felt, and without thinking you threw yourself at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

He froze, feeling the jackrabbit pace of your heart against his chest. The breathed-out thank you in his ear almost gave him goosebumps, but he kept himself composed. You yourself couldn’t believe that you were so elated to see him, having been terrified of him only a week prior.

But now it didn’t seem to matter, because even if he groused about having to do the work, he had still come to find you. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough of that,” he said, shoving you back. “Get up, we gotta get outta here before the rest of ‘em come back.”

He hauled you onto your feet, steadying you when you almost stumbled into him. You glanced at the TV, where the movie had been paused on a close-up shot of Cooper.

You hesitated, suddenly transfixed by an emotion that was getting close to realization. The ghoul followed your line of sight and grimaced, averting his gaze. 

“You feel it too, don’t you?” You said, the words spilling before you’d even thought them through. “How ironically familiar it all is, in a fucked up way.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. When you looked over at him, something ill-concealed in his expression confirmed things without him having to say anything.

His eyes hadn’t changed… how did you not see it before?

You took a step closer and that seemed to snap him out of it.

“No idea what you’re goin on’ about,” he gruffed, turning away. “Now get movin’ or I’ll tie you to my belt and herd you like cattle. Andale!”

You pursed your lips at his stubbornness but trailed after him. You watched his back, hunting for more details to further reassure yourself you weren’t crazy — His posture, the way he walked, his strong shoulders squared proudly, as if in preparation for whatever came.

There was still so much to say, but first, you had to get as far away from this serpent’s nest as possible. 

On the way, he found an old tire iron, tested its heft, and then handed it to you. At least, it seemed less daunting than a knife or a machete, and arguably less bloody. The world might be a cruel place, but he would try to help minimize the blow as much as he could. In his own way, of course.

 He pushed out of the secret entrance at the side of the building, and you almost slammed into his back as he abruptly stopped. 

“Well, fancy seeing you here boys,” he said before you could even ask what was wrong, and a stone seemed to drop into your stomach. “Jus’ came to collect what’s rightfully mine. We’ll be on our way now.”

“Like hell you are,” came the barked reply.

You peered around him and saw only a handful of the raiders, the leader nowhere in sight. Somehow, that made you relax a little, the odds slightly more favorable. Not that you didn’t believe the ghoul could handle the whole group, but you just didn’t want to take your chances.

“Oh, yeah? And who’s gonna stop me? You?” The ghoul drew his revolver before anyone else could react, firing a shot directly at the raider’s head. “Whoops, I guess it ain’t gonna be him, after all.”

A stunned moment passed before the raiders were all launching themselves at him. You pressed back against the wall, watching how the ghoul moved with a swift, deadly grace. Two were down before they even knew what was happening. 

You moved from your spot to try to find some cover in case any stray bullets flew by you. Crouching by some rusted oil barrels, you kept your eyes on the action, listening to the ghoul laughing at a failed attack.

Then you noticed movement elsewhere. While he was facing off another three of them, a raider that had broken off from the rest was slowly inching closer behind the ghoul’s back.

Yelling out a warning would probably hinder more than help him, so you took a deep, fortifying breath and crept behind the raider. You tried to keep control of your breathing as you got closer, taking deliberate steps. You adjusted your grip on your weapon a few times, your palms sweating like never before.

But just as you closed the distance between you and raised the tire iron over your head, one of the other raiders yelled Watch out!

Still, you swung, striking him right across the temple with a sickening crack. He crumpled, knocked out cold, and everything moved quickly after that.

 In all the distraction, the ghoul dove forward and sank his knife into the nearest raider’s stomach. Then he turned them both around, using him as a shield before he shot the other two raiders.

Once they were all on the ground, he looked at you over his shoulder and grinned. 

“Well, well, look at you watchin’ my back for me,” he said, seemingly impressed. “Doesn’t make us quite even, but getting closer.”

You let out a breathy laugh, but your mouth suddenly filled with saliva, and you had to keep yourself from throwing up. All of the day’s events were starting to catch up to you, and adrenaline could only keep you on your feet for so long.

“Can we just uh… please?” You said, gesturing into the distance vaguely. “If I don’t eat something soon, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

He sighed, jerking his head to one side in a motion for you to follow. “Better hope there’s still rations in your pack, then, ‘cus I ain’t a free meal ticket.”

———————————————-

You slept for what felt like days, waking up disoriented to find the afternoon sun high in the sky. You rolled onto your back, wiping away the drool that had trickled out of the corner of your mouth. You were sure you looked just as terrible as you felt, but it was the least of your worries at that moment.

The abandoned parking structure you’d camped out at was cool and shaded, the wind blowing through it. It’d been dark by the time the two of you had found it, and you could only remember wolfing down some food before promptly passing out. 

Your wrists had been bandaged at some point, a small courtesy from the ghoul. Proof once again that he cared, despite his tough, biting exterior. The warmth you felt in your chest reminded you of what was still pending between you, and how it could wait no longer. 

You sat up and looked around, gathering your bearings. He wasn’t too far away, standing at the other end of the lot with his back to you. He was looking off into the distance, lost in thought. 

You watched him for a moment, wondering what was going through his mind. Wondering if maybe, just maybe, your thoughts were running parallel. 

Only one way to find out.

You got up, wincing at the deep ache in your muscles. You started to shamble over to him, but you only reached halfway before you were no longer brave enough to get any closer. 

“Cooper,” you called, voice tremulous. “… It is you, isn’t it?”

The ghoul turned around slowly, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. He was quiet for a moment, for once seemingly afraid to meet your gaze.

“Still stubborn as a mule, aren’t’cha?” he said, trying to mask the nostalgia in his voice with wry humor. 

You let out an amused huff. “Always drove the producers crazy.”

“Well, it wasn’t just them.”

Finally, he looked up at you, his gaze much softer than they’d been the past few days. At that moment – despite the ravages of time, radiation, and even misery – you could still see the Cooper you had always known. And while you were elated by the revelation, your heart also hurt to think he had undergone so much by himself, losing who he was in the process. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, knowing it was likely a selfish question. “From the beginning?”

“I never… thought you would see me like this,” he said, swallowing hard. “After that night, when the bombs were dropped, I didn’t know what happened to you. I just assumed you were…”

“Dead,” you finished for him. “I thought the same about you.”

Silence hung heavily for a moment, and you weren’t sure if you should move or not. 

“What about your family?” You asked, bracing for the worst.

“Lost,” he said simply, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I got Janey to one of the vault’s on time, but there was no space left for me.”

His pain was palpable, making your heart shatter anew. But how to take it away from him? It was impossible to just erase all that had happened, but you could at least help him shoulder the burden.

“Cooper…” you breathed, finally closing the remaining distance between you.

He shifted uncomfortably, angling his head away. You reached up to gently cup his face, making him look at you.

“A face not even a mother could love, ain’t it?” He murmured, braced for whatever reaction you’d have to him now. 

He expected disgust and rejection, but that was far from what you felt then – A yearning so deep you feared it would fully consume you. The world had fucking ended already, so why not confess how you felt? Nothing worse could happen if you did. 

“My feelings for you have remained intact for more than two hundred years, Cooper. You really think this is going to change my mind?”

He blinked in surprise, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you were lying. You merely smiled, open and earnest, letting him digest your words.

“That night, when you kissed me… My mind was all over the place. I didn’t know what to think, what to say, but you ran away before I could even try.” He chuckled weakly at the memory. “Somehow, I felt it was a long time comin’, but a part of me never thought it was possible.”

“I’m sorry it was all I could give you then,” you whispered, and he placed a hand over one of yours. “If only we had known…”

“Say the words for me, will you?” He rasped, face inching closer to yours. “I won’t believe it until you say it.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I love you, Cooper Howard. I loved you before, and I love you now, just as you are.” 

“You sure about that?” He said, but his resolve was crumbling.  “Not much room for love in places like this, especially with folks like me.”

“We’ll just have to make room for it then.”

He raised his hairless eyebrows, both pleased and amused at your conviction.“Just like that, hmm?” 

One of his arms snaked around your waist slowly, pressing you closer to him. Your eyes dropped to his mouth, desirous. The fire he saw in them ignited him as well — A long lost feeling that was returning to the surface with a vengeance.

“Bésame,” you sighed, mere seconds before his lips were melding against yours. 

You kissed with an almost frantic desperation, tightly clinging onto each other. It was the kind of kiss you had always dreamt of — devouring and insatiable, eager to fuse together.

His hands were curious but hesitant, roaming up to your ribcage and down to your hips, but no further. You grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your chest, not only as permission, but also so he could feel how your heart pounded for him. 

His own longing overflowed, clouding his senses. A part of him had still been unwilling to believe you could actually love — much less tolerate — what he had become. But when you moaned softly into his mouth, he knew he was a lost cause.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t very good with words that weren’t scripted. But fortunately for you, there were other ways he could demonstrate his devotion.

You arched into his touch as he palmed one of your breasts, a low sound in his throat. He moved to kiss your neck, lavishing your collarbone with his tongue. He wanted to kiss you all over, but he would need to get you bare first. 

You let him tug your blouse over your head, his gloves subsequently coming off. His hands were calloused as they returned to touch your skin. The tips of his fingers teased the waistband of your pants, and he smirked as you frowned up at him. 

“What? I wanna enjoy every moment of this,” he drawled, eyes dipping lower to watch your chest heave. “So many times I tried to imagine how I would do this. Sometimes I would unwrap you like a present… Others, well, let’s jus’ say I was like a coyote getting ahold of a chicken.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the morbid description, strangely not put off by it. “How romantic. I’m still trying to decide how I’ll take yours off.”

He shifted, something like panic flashing in his eyes for the briefest second. “Hold your horses, sweetheart. I ain’t done with you yet.”

You understood his hesitance immediately, deciding not to push it for the time being. You had years of patience under your belt, and his trust was something you did not mind earning again. He removed only his duster, draping it on the floor. 

He undid your belt and knelt in front of you as you wiggled your hips to help him take your pants off. There was a puff of warm breath against your navel a second before he planted a kiss on it. You shuddered as his teeth snagged the hem of your panties, pulling them down.

There was a noticeable wet spot on the fabric, which made him groan. His cock was straining against his pants already, but he wanted to focus on you first. 

“Come here, you,” he rasped, grasping your hips and bringing you down with him. 

As soon as you were on your back, his mouth was on you again. He’d wanted to feast his eyes first, to take you in in your full glory, but he found he couldn’t keep himself detached from you for too long. 

He kept his promise, slowly working his way around. You surrendered to his adoration with ease, every caress and every kiss awakening every part of you. At some point, you reached a level of sensitivity that had you whimpering at the slightest touch. The light sting of his teeth on your nipples sent electricity straight to your core. 

He lost himself in your smell and your warmth and your softness – a supplicant finally worshiping at his sacred temple. When his mouth finally sealed over your clit, your back arched off the floor, taut as a bow. 

“Cooper,” you gasped, delirious with lust. “Please, I-I need… Let me touch you, something, please!”

He shushed you gently, arms wrapping around your legs. “Just lie back and let me take care of you, darlin’.”

You wished you could say you lasted some time under his ministrations, but you came with embarrassing ease. That first orgasm hit you like an avalanche, sweeping throughout your whole body. You clapped a hand over your mouth as you cried out, not wanting to be too loud and potentially attract unwanted attention. 

He let out a faint chuckle, lapping up your release with gusto and nearly making you come a second time. He found he especially liked teasing your clit with quick little flicks of his tongue, your moans higher pitched. You tried squirming away from him, nearing overstimulation.

“You’re killing me, Coop!” You couldn’t help but giggle hysterically, pushing at his head. “Por favor!”

He pulled back, grinning roguishly as he licked his glistening lips. “What can I say? Seems I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then take me already,” you pleaded. “I can’t wait any longer.”

He needed no further convincing. He unhooked his arms from your legs and his body slid upwards until your faces were level. He was quick to undo his pants and push them down, bending down to kiss you as he took his cock in one hand, stroking it. 

You brought your knees up to his sides as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Slowly, he pushed inside of you, leaning his forehead against yours so he could see your reactions. Brows furrowed, mouth slack, cheeks flushed – you were the prettiest picture, in his eyes. 

“That’s it,” he exhaled as he buried himself to the hilt. “Takin’ me so good, like you were made just for me.”

“You’ve a-already made it clear th-that I’m yours,”  you said with a teasing little smile that you could barely hold as he started to move. 

He remembered his words to the raiders, letting out a breathy chuckle. “I did say somethin’ like that, didn’t I? Guess it must be true, then.”

His strokes were long and slow at first, letting you feel every inch as he stretched you. His eyes were fixed on your face, drinking in your features and reassuring himself that it was not a dream. He knew he wouldn’t last too long either, for all he teased you about it.

He started going faster, the snap of his hips harsher, as you begged for it. Pleasure was overtaking him, wiping his mind clear of everything that wasn’t the present moment. Your name left his lips like a prayer, his eyes heavy lidded and glazed over with ecstasy. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moaned. “I-I love you. Fuck, I love you.”

You clung to him, afraid that if your heart went any faster, it might stop altogether. Soon enough, he felt you tightly squeezing around him, and he knew you were close once again. He was right there with you, driven by your pleasure, and then you pulled him in for a kiss. 

He felt you tremble under him as you came, the intensity not letting you make more than a small, choked sound. With a long, rough groan and a deep thrust, he spilled inside of you. Lost in a feverish oblivion, having forgotten when the last time he’d experienced it was… if at all. No drop was wasted, in the end.

During the comedown, you lay there panting, his added weight on top of you comforting. You looked at each other and laughed, elated at the whole thing. It felt like no time had passed at all, somehow. 

“Tryin’ to steal my soul already,” he said, a fondness in his voice that made your stomach flutter. “Hold on, I need to get some RadAway in ya.”

Breathing heavily, he slowly pulled out of you and got to his knees. He tucked himself away and reached for his pack. He pulled out a yellow IV bag, which you recognized from Bud’s few lessons about the wasteland. You hadn’t even thought about it until then, but you were immensely grateful he had been prepared. 

He hooked you onto it delicately and slumped back down beside you, lying sideways. You grinned, snuggling closer to him. His fingers traced lazy circles on your belly as he looked down at you, adoring. 

The real world slowly crept into the edges of your mind, anxiety at being separated from him suddenly spiking. Now that you had him, there was no way you would just let him go. 

“I don’t know what I should do now,” you confessed, voice low. “I know I want you, and I want to be with you, but what about New Vegas? Do you think they’d send someone to look for me?”

He thought about it for a moment. “Maybe. It’s very possible, you never know. You’re more valuable than you realize, and I ain’t just sayin’ that ‘cus I’m biased.”

You snorted, shoving him playfully, but he continued. “But… I think I should still take you there. My sort of lifestyle in the wasteland ain’t for you, darlin’. I almost lost you once already, very stupidly.”

“That was my fault, though,” you said, pained at the guilt in his voice for not being able to protect you.

“Everybody makes mistakes. You could make a hundred more, but one of ‘em might just cost you everythin’. I ain’t takin’ those chances.”

“Well, you’re certainly more forgiving now…” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “But then what? You’re not just gonna drop me off at twenty one for safe keeping, are you? I would kill you.”

He laughed. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. But it won’t come to that, we ain’t stayin’ in the vault.”

“Oh? We aren’t?” 

“There’s a few settlements out there that are safe and, uh, friendly to my kind.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to bring much attention to his current state of being. You took his hand, squeezing his fingers, and he returned the gesture.

One day, you would make sure he would never doubt his worth ever again. You admired his strength and perseverance, soldiering through an unforgiving environment, continuing to live. He was certainly different from the hero that he always played in the movies, but he was a hero nonetheless. In your eyes, at least.

“Well, well… That’s all it took to bring you to your knees, huh?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. “You really thinking of settling down?”

“Oh, I ain’t retirin’, sweetheart,” he said with a huff. “But if you’re askin’ if I’m thinking of going steady with you, well…”

The two of you shared a knowing look, smiling at that echo from the past. At that moment, you felt that things might just be okay after all. You had been through worse things, jumped through bigger hurdles, and yet you had still arrived there. Who was to say you couldn’t handle more?

“Kiss me then, and let’s seal the deal.”

------------

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #158

Sorry if this isn’t the right place, I have only recently discovered this tumblr and am slowly working my way backwards through your dpxdc tag.  I think it might be an injoke here so uh, behold poor Yorick, totally not the human skull of Tchaikowsky fullfilling his actor dreams postmortem.

One of the posts in the tag was a dpxdc trope writing challenge. So I’m not sure if you’re interested in seeing blurb turned fic summary but here:

Nightwing learns of a travelling circus, Circus Gothica, that claims to have ‘The Real Flying Graysons performing from the beyond the grave’. Alternatively furious and hopeful he discretely goes to investigate, and finds himself overshadowed by one of Ringmaster Freakshows ghostly workers, stuck performing as an acrobat for the circus. As Nightwing struggles with his posession and reunion with seemingly the supposed ghosts of his parents, he finds an unlikely ally in Killer Croc/Waylon Jones, who had been kidnapped on his travels back to Gotham after having tried and failed to settle down in Swamp Things swamp.

Unfortunately the pairs cooperation ends shortly after freeing themselves and the completely unneccessary fight allows Freakshow and his assosciates to escape. Nightwing is determined to solve the case himself (and get justice for his dead parents and himself) causing tension between him and Batman who noted his disappearance.

Batman independently investigates,leading him to the Guys in White. Identifying them as an anti-meta group, he brings it to the attention of the Justice League in hopes of organising a legal solution - Superman takes it personally when one of the primary funders is revealed to be Lex Luthor.

Meanwhile Nightwing has tracked Freakshow to a bolthole/lair, where he comes across Val, a woman in a red jumpsuit, who had been following the trail of a different individual - a villain she calls Vlad Plasmius . The pair work together, Val freeing the ghosts in Freakshows control including the Greysons and Nightwing getting a cathartic takedown of both Freakshow and (with borrowed tech) Vlad.

Their partnership and the greater plot behind the villains actions goes over Nightwings head as he recognises 'not his circus, not his monkeys’ and opts to leave it to his new friend.

Meanwhile Clark Kent has discovered an odd exchange of info/money/tech between the GIW, Lex Luthor and a strange inventor who loudly proclaims that he is Technus. The end goal seems to be to create suits that will be secretly under Lex Luthors control capable of rivalling heroes, so as to supplant heroes as beloved protectors of the world, as a step in ridding the world of independent metas like superman and getting him his own private world army.

Also meanwhile Batman has continued to investigate GIW/Freakshow leading him to Amity Park, where he witnesses young adult Sam Manson inadvertently vitalise plants during a local eco protest. When persistent digging leads to learning about the overgrowth incident, Batman reaches out to Harley for her thoughts on how mentorhip might positively/negatively effect her struggling but mostly reformed partner Poison Ivy. Batman uses his Brucie Wayne persona to assist in organising an eco activism initiative (and plant meta power mentorship) with the Mansons, with Sam taking a guiding role.

Supermans battle against Lexs + Technus mediated ghost/meta power suits goes poorly and he calls in for rescue. Recognising the issues from his research in Amity, Batman 'borrows’ tech from the Fentonworks before going to the rescue.

With the day saved Batman returns to update his records on ghosts and store his new tech, finally leading to Nightwing explaining a bit of his experiences to add to the records.

The story ends on the cliffhanger of Danny getting screwed over by Batman’s improved antighost protections when he went to try track down and collect the stolen weapons.

I had fun with this : )

[striderepiphany]

My favorite reddie fics masterpost

I have an absolutely insane number of reddie fics saved in my bookmarks for how recently I joined this fandom so I decided to share my absolute favorites with you. Please give these authors some love and let me know which ones are you've read and enjoyed!

the year of the goat and your kid back by derryfacts2

1 chapter, 14,838 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: The day you get the most important email of your life, there’s a new black skidmark on the wall of the stairwell, and you know exactly whose fault it is. “Margaret,” you intone to the harried, wild-haired woman in the lobby. She sighs at you as she tries to jimmy her mail key loose. “I know.” It wouldn’t even be that bad if the kid would just skateboard outside. Or get good at skateboarding. Either of those things. Maggie’s a nice lady, though, and she’s had “trying my best” scribbled all over her since they moved into 6B maybe eight years ago. So you try not to be a dick, even if her son is a gold-standard pain in the ass. He’s good for three things: smells, noise, and reminding you how big Eddie must be by now.

The first It fic I read that made me go "holy shit, this is fantastic" and remains one of my all-timers (hence why its first in this list). Really fun and unique outsider POV from Eddie's estranged gay dad, and tells a very sweet story mostly through dialogue. Young adult Eddie and Richie are very cute.

i think the clock is slow by derryfacts2 (again)

3 chapters, 15,815 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: So there was that reason that work wasn’t boring, too. There was Richie’s soppy campaign of making cow eyes at the back of Eddie’s head as he passed, gently pressing Betty for details about his personal life (“I don’t think he has one. He had this awful fiancé a few years ago, but we’re all glad that’s over”), and chasing the incomparable high of a quiet, muttered “Thanks, Rich” whenever Richie picks something up for him from the copier.

Richie is a wannabe stand-up comic daylighting as the receptionist at Eddie's office. Eddie is a tightly-wound corporate asshole. They are both disasters. Or: five times Richie watched Eddie and one that Eddie watched him back.

I really enjoy workplace dramas and this one satisfied the itch so well. So many good scenes and dialogue, this author characterizes them in a way that really works for me. The perfect read-in-an-afternoon fic.

listen to my heart (can you hear it sing?) by vampirerising

12 chapters, 137,708 words, Major Character Death. Summary: "You need to wake up now,” Stan says softly. “This isn’t real.”

“I know, but I can’t,” Richie sobs. “I don’t want to be here.” Not again. Never again. It is dead, why is It still haunting him?

Stan fixes him with one of those looks of his, the one where he can see his every thought as if it were written on his face. “That’s not true, Trashmouth.”

Alternatively: We all know Richie gets caught in the Deadlights, but do we really know what happens after?

(Deadlights, timelines, Stan’s ghostly meddling—oh, my.)

This one is fucking weird in a way that I absolutely adore. Kind of like a sci-fi novel in that it requires you to pay attention to figure out what the fuck is going on but its so good and worth it. The MCD is Stan, not Eddie, and the last couple chapters are actually a very normal domestic Eddie lives AU. One of the first reddie artworks I made was fanart for a scene from this fic that I really enjoy.

a strange sense of familiarity by Katranga

21 chapters, 103,571 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "So Eddie, what brings you to the bar tonight?" Richie asked. "Gonna rebound from the divorce? Pick up a hot young twenty-something to feel young again?” “Fuck you,” Eddie said, jutting his chin forward. “What a terrible way to ruin the mood.” “I’m sorry, all my moods are poorly cultivated. What mood were you looking for?” A nervous lump grew in Eddie's throat. He threw back his drink to get rid of it.

Hand wrapped around the glass he’d just slammed back onto the bar, he said, “The mood that gets me leaving with a schlubby forty-something.”

Pre-chapter two, Eddie and Richie meet and don't remember each other, but have an instant connection anyway...

This one is just... so fucking good. Decently long without ever feeling like it's dragging. Part 1 is them developing their totally-casual-I-swear relationship, which blows up right when Mike calls them back to Derry. Part 2 is them navigating both killing a nightmare clown demon and the awkwardness between them. Also everybody lives! So that's nice.

change partners by avacadomoon (with podfic available)

1 chapter, 30,453 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "Rich," Eddie says heavily. Meaningfully, and Richie holds his breath, both afraid and hopeful that Eddie is about to say something really sappy, like I always knew and it didn't matter to me, or you know I support you no matter what. Eddie takes a deep breath before he speaks, and Richie closes his eyes, braced for it. "I didn't look at your dick pics."

"Well hey, Eds, thanks," Richie says, laughing incredulously. "Thanks for that."

I LOVE THIS ONE SOOO FUCKING MUCH. I urge you to consider this as a rec for this author as well, as they have a bunch of other reddie fics I think are fantastic. I have a weakness for any reddie fic that lets them be just a little mean to each other. As a treat. (Also the podfic is very well done, you should check that out too.)

check raise by avacodomoon

1 chapter, 15,061 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "Eddie, not a fan of stand up comedy, not a fan of his beer," Rich says, leaning back on one elbow and squinting at him, like he's lining him up in a camera lens frame, "but what is he doing drinking alone?"

"I was alone, and now I'm not," Eddie says. "Some prick sat down next to me and started yapping."

"Ah, unpleasant to talk to," Rich concludes. "Explains a lot."

I know I meant the last rec as a blanket rec for all this author's works but I'm including this one specifically because it has a twist ending that is well-foreshadowed and it slapped my dick clean off.

Things that Happen after Eddie Lives by IfItHollers

11 chapters, 107,947 words, Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings. Summary: In a world where Richie manages to save Eddie from It after the deadlights, they still have problems on their to-do list. Featuring everything from Derry to Los Angeles—Richie Tozier's murder trial, Eddie Kaspbrak's divorce proceedings, bedsharing of the platonic and non-platonic varieties, an investigation of magic, a truly disgusting séance, the quintessential morosexual road trip, and OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES.

Definitely NOT your average Eddie lives AU. Drama! Mild peril! Psychic abilities! The ghost of Stanley Uris collect calling from beyond the grave via Richie Tozier's vocal chords! Fun and freaky and weird. Three things that make any fic a Josh favorite.

I'm going to stop there because I'm sleepy but let me know if you want more! Like I said I've got like 70 of these lovingly tucked in my bookmarks and I'm happy to share with the class.

[currentfications]

Halloween Special | 👻

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Pairing: Bada Lee x ghost!reader(?)*

Warning: Ghost, fluff, mention of death?

Synopsis: Bada found a suspiciously cheap rental

AN: Halloween!! I am HYPED ^_^ Hope y’all like this one, it is a little odd but I just wanted to write some brainless fluff for Halloween >////<

*I know the tag says Bada Lee x reader but I figure it’ll be a little weird to insinuate that the reader is dead… so I’ve settled with vagueness (no y/n or you used in this fic) in hopes that I’m not making things too weird 0.0 sorry if it just made this fic harder to read :(

Bada had an inkling that the deal was too good to be true when she rented the apartment, located dead-smack in the city, at such a low price.

Nevertheless, she was still scared shitless when she saw the ghostly apparition behind her the first morning she moved in.

“Ohmygodwhatthefuck,” her words blurred into one as she flung her toothbrush at the mirror, choking on the foamy toothpaste as she stumbled backwards.

The ghost caught her before she would’ve cracked her melon at the handle, gingerly placing her down to the cold tile.

Hovering over Bada’s body, frozen in fear, the phantom crouched down to meet the dancer at eye level.

You okay there? Her voice echoey, sending chills down Bada’s spine. She snapped her jaw shut, nodding dumbly, eyes still bulging in fear.

“I-” Bada opened her mouth to try to form a sentence, but her thoughts escaped her mind as soon as she hung. What to even say to a poltergeist? She settled on more gawking.

Sorry, just wanted to welcome you to the place. The ghost wasn’t particularly scary looking, not especially with the apologetic look and puppy dog eyes. Guess I’m your new housemate!

Said new housemate took a while for Bada to get used to. She initially thought about moving out, but the non-refundable deposit and rising rent didn’t really provide much of an alternative option. She thought about getting an exorcist too, but figure that will probably be rude considering that she was there first, after all.

After the initial fright though, Bada quickly realised the perk of having such housemate around. Especially during summer, haunting at the rental really keeps the place cool and the electricity bill low. That one time when she locked herself out, ghostly housemate quickly came to her rescue.

The phantom really lived up to her name, as Bada haven’t really seen her since the initial encounter - except occasionally out the corner of her eyes.

An air of unease that hung over the air every time Bada gets home seemed to indicate that the other tenant have only recently left the room to prevent giving her a fright.

“Hey,” Bada called out timidly, a few months into the tenancy. “Are you there?” She had begun to wonder if this was all a figment of her imagination. It wasn’t.

The linen closet creaked open and a girl peeked out from behind the door. Hi?

Bada took a deep breath to compose herself before waving the poltergeist over with a small smile (technically, with her peaceful nature, Bada wasn’t sure if she can even be classified as one - more along the line of Casper the ghost if anything). After coexisting for these few months, Bada is starting to feel a little rude for not have gotten to know her housemate all these time.

The friendly spirit kept her distance even after the introduction - she can occasionally be seen sitting by the window sill right around twilight or found stargazing on the balcony - but she almost excuse herself (vanish) whenever Bada enters the room, reluctant to make her feel uneasy.

So when Bada came home to blaring music one night, she decided to creep up to the source of noise. She found the door to her spare room (she mostly uses it as a dance room) slightly agape and peeked a glance into it.

She found her housemate vibing to some early 2010’s pop music, tapping her feet (?) as she swayed to the tune. Even though it’s not like ghost can even get sweaty, she has pulled her hair up into a messy bun, eyes shut as she joyfully danced her heart out.

Bada couldn’t hold back a chuckle escaping her lips, her hands flying to her mouth as soon as it does. The ghost snapped around, flustered, let out a shriek that slammed the door shut and a few books off the bookshelf. A crackling static sound was heard before the music was stopped.

“I’m so sorry!” Bada shouted through the door apologetically, realising that she had spooked the spook. “I was just curious about what you’ve been doing.”

More silence followed as the tall girl leaned on the door frame, waiting for a response.

No, I suppose it’s fair. A scare for a scare - we’re even now.

The door opened, and Bada found the poltergeist (now officially one after the door slamming and object throwing) curled up on the floor, face buried in her hands.

“Awwh don’t be embarrassed, you’re not too bad,” the dancer comforted, squatting down to the spirit. She remained curled up and did not budge once. “Your basics is actually pretty solid, want me to teach you?”

That made the sulking spirit look up, eyes glistening. Really?

Bada couldn’t help but notice that the girl is really cute - her gleaming and excited doe eyes made her forgot that she’s a ghost for a moment, reaching out to fix her fringe back into place. Her eerily icy skin snapped that reminder back into the dancer.

“Yeah-” scolding herself for having a split second of immoral thoughts on the undead, Bada quickly stood up and turned to the speaker. “I do teach dance for a living after all, and you’ve been an exceptional housemate.”

The ghost took her hand, a smile growing on her face. Thank you. I guess you can teach dead dogs new tricks after all. The warm twinkle in her eyes was payment enough for Bada’s dance masterclass.

Over the next few weeks, the girls have gotten closer over the dancing classes. Sightings are now more often around the house.

Bada has noticed that her food is always at the right temperature, her morning coffee never scorching her anymore. Her laundry is never rained on, even when she run late from work. One time she rushed home, remembering that she’d left the hair straightener on, only to find the electricity turned off and the iron back in her drawer.

“Thanks,” the overworked choreographer cooed in relief, “I was worried I’d burn the house down.”

Wouldn’t want to be cremated twice. Her dark humour gave Bada a good laugh as she ran back out the door to attend her workshops.

On her way home from work, the dancer stopped by a local florist to pick up a simple white rose bouquet, a token of thank-you for her housemate.

From that point onwards things escalated. Bada would bring home books to replenish the ghost’s bookshelves, making sure she have sufficient reading materials to lounge by the windowsill. The poltergeist is in charge of clearing out trash when the choreographer is on her away trips. Soon little tidbits and souvenirs joined the books and bouquets collection, and Bada would return home to cooked meals and warmed baths (or iced baths, if she’s had a particularly strenuous workout on her schedule).

Then the ghost stopped hiding, and Bada would wake up to cooked breakfast and a lounging phantom, rocking on the chair she’d bought on a whim (Bada thought it would be funny to have a cliched rocking chair in a haunted house, to which the spirit agreed - she even asked for some yarn and knitting needles to occupy her time, Bada received plenty of beanies and sweaters in return).

Soon it became a norm for the duo to comfortably coexist in the cozy haunted space for two.

“I’m gonna run late tonight,” Bada shouted, to nowhere in particular, knowing that she’ll hear her anyways. An echo from the kitchen confirmed that the message was received.

Bada later found a birthday cupcake in her lunchbox. Smiling, she gently peeled back the wrapper of the red velvet cake, taking a bite into the scrumptious dessert.

“Ooo who’s that from?” Tatter teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at their team leader. “How come we haven’t heard anything about anyone packing your lunchbox?”

“She’s not just anyone-” Bada blurted out, stopping herself in the track when she realised her Freudian slip, “-just my housemate is all.”

Sharing a knowing look, Tatter and Lusher decided let their team leader simmer in her own thoughts.

The alcohol involved in the birthday party later on, however, probably does not help with thought formation.

Team BEBE had to hoist their very intoxicated birthday girl home that night. Sowoen especially regretted in feeding the much taller dancer too much alcohol.

While the group was fumbling to find the keys off Bada, the front door creaked open.

“Oh god Bada this is so unsafe, how’d you haven’t gotten robbed is beyond me,” Tatter half scolded as they dropped her onto the couch. “And why is your lights still on? How much do you pay in electricity bills a month?” Her rambling questions was cut short by Lusher jabbing her on the side.

“You must be-”

Housemate. Thanks for bringing her back safely.

The spirit managed to present herself passingly as a regular human, smiling warmly and offering tea to the late visitors. Even though they couldn’t really put a finger on what was making them feel so strongly unsettled, the group trusted their gut feelings and politely declined the offer. Tatter and Lusher in particular assumed that it was simply a case of jealous and/or possessive girlfriend.

Once the group was sent off, the phantom floated back to a flushed red Bada, offering some water.

“C-can you get me some iced towel?” The dancer asked meekly. The ghost simply pressed her icy palm onto her cheeks, cooling her down instantaneously. “Ahh that’s much better than a towel, no dripping water.”

I can make dripping ceiling happen if that’s what you want.

Bada chuckled, leaning onto her personal ice pack. “Please don’t do that, I think we have a routine inspection next week.”

You mean you have a routine inspection next week, the spirit giggled, it’s not like they can evict me.

“And you’re gonna let someone else move into our home?” The dancer slurred, darting her gaze up to the phantom.

Maybe she’s drunk, but she swear she saw a rosy tint forming on the ghost’s cheeks. You mean your house.

“I mean our-” Bada sat up, pulling her housemate closer, “our home.”

You’re drunk. An invincible force pulled the dancer back into the couch, the spirit’s hands still placed on her cheeks. Get some rest.

Bada wanted to argue but a haunting siren song lulled her into a slumber. It was a soothing melody that sounded foreign but yet felt so natural to her. She managed to wrap her arms around the cold body to cool off her intoxication before sleep claimed her.

She woke up the next morning to the smell of breakfast and fresh coffee. Groaning, she opened her eyes to a glass of water and two aspirins floating in front of her.

Hung over?

Bada hummed and nodded at the question, wincing at the splitting headache as she does.

I’m lucky to be somber and sober.

Laughing softly as to not cause another jolt of pain, the dancer sat up, regretting the heavy drinking from the night before. “Hey,” she motioned with her eyes close. Feeling the palpable change in atmospheric pressure next to her, a smile curled her lips upwards. “Now that I, too, am sober-” she paused to reach around, continuing when she found her personal poltergeist, pulling her forward, “- I meant what I said last night. I’m lucky to have you.”

Pressing a soft kiss on the girl in her arms, she let the soft words fall from her lips. “Our home.”

[sallage]

The Milkman - NSFW

The Wheel AU

Part 1 

Warning: This is an intense tickle fic!

Summary: It had been years since Bakugo had last stepped foot outside of the city. Graduating U.A. at the top of his class, interning and working for The Genious Office, and making a name for himself had been cake once Deku was suspended. The first few months, he'd hardly thought about the nerd. After that, not at all. What he didn't know, was that the life he'd grown acustomed to was about to derail in one of the most sadistic and twisted ways he'd never thought possible.

Pairing: Lee Pro Hero Bakugo, Ler Villain Deku

Words: 10,466

Reading Time: 41 Minutes

A/N: Holyyyyyyyyyy shit. This is the longest fic I have ever written. I had sooooooo much fun writing this and I'm actually kind of proud of it.... just a little(: Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!!

Read more ∘₊✧ Here ✧₊∘

The room was mostly empty. 

Bakugo was blindfolded, but he could sense it. He could tell by the way the metallic clang of the chains clamoring around his neck reverberated off of the walls. The bastard had fucked with Bakugo enough for him to learn how sound worked in a small room, which is why his heart was already in his throat when he felt a tug against the icy narrow band, which he’d learned the hard way, meant stop.

So he did.

“Good boy.”

Bakugo growled, a low animalistic noise from deep within his throat. If someone gave him one million attempts to predict his future, he never would have guessed this.

That he would end up a piece of meat for the nerd to fuck with for his own sick, demented pleasure. 

When Deku was suspended from U.A., Bakugo's graduation at the top of his class became effortless, with the internship and job at The Genius Office falling into place just as smoothly.

Once Bakugo had turned twenty-five years old, he had developed a high level of renown and respect as a hero. The final arc of his success was right there, literally in the palm of his hands. 

Then everything went to shit.

It was supposed to be a simple mission.

Reports of a faceless crime lord monetizing black market drugs and illegal erasure darts on the dark web were far from unknown. However, an anonymous tip had led them to discover a money laundering outpost posing as a trading card store. After years of coming up empty, Bakugo was itching to discover something, anything useful.

All they had to do was monitor the establishment.

Bakugo couldn't see the use of the three men sent to scout with him, especially after the store had closed, so he’d sent them home with a note reviewing the new tracker that had been implanted in their gums. The technology was new and not widely tested yet, plagiarizing elements of skin and bone, so Bakugo was confident that the chip would be missed if he were somehow captured and searched.

He’d spend the next several hours watching.

Maybe he should have gone home after the fifth hour of quiet.

It wasn’t until four in the morning, when a small sliver of activity caught his eye.

A lone person in a black hood quietly exited the dark store.

Bakugo recognized the possibility of a diversion, that the person in the hood was simply meant to draw prying eyes away from the store while other things went on behind the scenes. Bakugo had seen the trick used before.

But he couldn't help but feel… drawn.

So he followed them.

The thought to report an update was fleeting.

The hooded figure remained silent and unperturbed. Bakugo kept a safe distance in the shadows, his soft footfalls masked by the rising pitch of the winding river and bridge ahead. The figure's movements remained consistent and steady as they both crossed, the city now but a shimmering dot in the darkened distance.

They crossed into ghostly, suburban territory. 

After around ten minutes, a graffitied public school park looming under a broken flickering street light caught his attention.

A twinge of familiarity ran down his spine.

Distracted, Bakugo didn’t see the hooded figure round the sidewalk. Cursing, he rushed to catch up.

When he’d rounded the corner, they were standing in the center of the street, staring at some old, tragedy stricken apartments with their hands casually slung into their pockets.

Bakugo considered the situation, and his eyes narrowed as he contemplated initiating a confrontation. The very small and mature voice he’d annoyingly developed in his mind told him to think about his endgame. If he rushed the shady bastard now, he would tip off the villain operation and everything they’d learned up to that point would be as useful as dirt. He’d need to have reasonable proof and all he’d had was a stupid feeling.

Bakugo gritted his teeth and growled under his breath. He’d wanted to confront the fucker and kick his ass, but it was too early to have a full picture of what was really going on. The store could simply be that, a store, with nothing more to it.

He rolled his eyes and before he could talk himself out of it, took careful steps away in an attempt to slip back out, then paused. Maybe if he could catch a glimpse of their face…

“My mother still lives here.”

Bakugo's body went completely still. His breath stopped in his throat, and his heartbeat pounded in his chest like a hammer against steel.

The figure lowered their hood, glowing green eyes trained on the apartments.

Bakugo blinked. Everything else fell away from him.

“Everyday I think she’d leave, especially after I destroyed the neighborhood. Do you think she’s still waiting for me?”

He should have left right then and there.

Instead, Bakugo rose from his crouch and slowly walked out onto the street. Each step he’d taken had an undeniable ferocity to it, his eyes like two burning embers that could turn into an inferno at a moment's notice.

It was the fucking high school drop out. And he knew Bakugo was following him. He’d probably known it the second he’d left the store, maybe even before. 

“Izuku.”

“Kacchan.”

The familiar nickname wasn't spoken with the same fondness that it had once been uttered with, instead carrying a tone that made it sound more like an insult.

Gone was the silly, quirky, and fun-loving person that was filled with goodness and joy. In his place stood a dangerous, predatory, and threatening presence. In his eyes no longer shined the bright light of his once golden heart, but instead the glimmering of a cold and dangerous predator.

“Don’t do this! Please don’t let them take it, Kacchan!”

Bakugo scowled at him, his palms grew hot. 

“Why the hell are you here?”

He should’ve reported the update. Hell, he should’ve called in the entire damn agency.

Deku’s voice was steady, eyes trained on the apartments. “You didn’t like our walk down memory lane?”

Bakugo’s eyes sparked.

The playground, the river, the fucking card store.

Bakugo bristled. He should have known. It was obvious. “Answer the fucking question.”

Black tendrils slowly slithered out of Deku’s back. Bakugo’s palms sizzled.

“No one’s talked to me like that in a long time.”

Without so much as a twitch as a warning, one of the tendrils struck. Bakugo quickly shifted and dodged, failing to realize that Deku had simply struck the ground just next to where the blonde once stood, intentionally pushing him right into a hulking frame standing silently off to the side, who wrapped massive arms around Bakugo’s chest from behind. 

His palms crackled and sparked with the orange and red of his quirk, building up and igniting in a devastating explosion that engulfed them both in a calamitous blaze of volatile force. 

Somehow, deep in the heat, he felt a sudden and painful sting on the side of his neck. 

In an instant, the heat and power from his attack subsided, dissolved by the abrupt numbing sensation that spread through his body and left his hands smoking and twitching. His body tingled, all of his senses numbed and weakened.

“Motherfffuuhh-”

Another sting, and his vision wavered and blurred. He shook his head, fighting against it.

It was a fucking trap. Set For him. 

He’d known he was going to pass out and these fuckers were going to take him. He’d wanted to fight it with as much defiance and disrespect as he could. Profanities spewed from his lips accompanied by worthless sparks that popped from his numb, useless hands. His eyes seared into Deku, but the villain’s eyes remained locked on the apartments, not even sparing him a sideways glance before whatever drug they injected him with finally overwhelmed his senses.

He’d woken up in the same damn room he’d been staying in for the past week.

Over the course of that week, Bakugo had fought harder than he ever had in his entire life. He’d bitten fingers, head butted anyone within range, and spat. His mouth proved to be as dangerous as his quirk, but three days in the muzzle and firmer restraints taught him to use his talents sparingly.

As expected, they’d missed the tracker during the strip search. He’d woken up with it warm against his tooth, confirmation that someone was indeed looking for him.

So he’d reserved his energy, save for every few minutes or so when he would religiously check if the quirk erasure dart was still active, hoping to catch it before they’d eventually inject him again.

On his first night, blindfolded, cursing and thrashing, they’d shoved him into a chair and bound his legs to it along with his arms to a hanging contraption above his head. It took seven of them to eventually subdue the aggressive pro hero, all of them walking away with some kind of injury.

Deku didn't make an appearance that night, but the orders to his grunts were clear.

Extract any information Bakugo had uncovered about their operations.

Bakugo was expecting to be tortured. He’d mentally prepared himself for it the moment he’d woken up in this shit hole. And he was, just not in the way he was expecting.

Deku didn't want to dignify Bakugo with a formidable excuse for when he eventually gave up. He wanted to humiliate him.

For the first three days, he was brutally and sadistically tickle tortured.

When the method of torture was revealed, to say that Bakugo was flabbergasted would be an understatement. He’d imagined needles under the nails or flaying. Hell, he was even expecting something ironic like being branded or burned alive. So when he was finally forced into the chair, the last of his flailing limbs secured, he braced himself for the kind of pain that would match the reputation Izuku created for himself, only to be startled by harmless and rough fingers and hands, ticklishly squeezing sensitive spots on his body.

The pro hero sneered and taunted the goons, under the impression he was safe for the time being. 

But of course, he would be proven wrong.

The grunts took their time and expertly learned his body. They triggered reactions and sounds Bakugo didn't know he could make and tormented spots he didn't even know were ticklish. After hours of meticulous work and charting, they’d put the information they gathered to blindingly effective use. Bakugo learned a few things about himself that night, things he would pay top dollar to forget.

And he’d weathered the torture by the skin of his teeth.

The second day, Deku made a personal appearance, and cracked him in less than an hour. Bakugo answered every single question asked of him, relevant or not.

Still, it wasn't enough for the damn masochist.

Deku didn't just want answers from Bakugo, he wanted him to pay.

So now, in the fourth day of hell, Bakugo has nothing to say or give that would spare him from whatever Deku planned. 

Today was purely about revenge.

A hard hand clamped on his shoulder and the blonde blindly stepped forward, letting the hand guide him.

He swallowed his resistance and it slid down his throat like sand.

The hand lifted. He paused.

Then there was light.

Bakugo blinked several times after the blindfold was lifted. The intensity of the dazzling lights in the room made his eyes squint and nose itch. His eyes landed on a tall, colorful object planted in the center of the room.

The Wheel.

Deku had seen fit to inject whimsy into his revenge plot with The Wheel: a colorful 20-slice abomination that would randomly determine how Bakugo would be tickled that day.

A fucking Wheel.

 Bakugo sizzled in place. He wanted to rip the bastard’s guts out and make him eat it. He wanted to kill him.

Deku blew Bakugo a kiss and strode towards it.

"Let's see what The Wheel wants us to do today." Deku winked and gave it a spin.

Bakugo's sense of how much time had passed was determined by how many times the wheel had been spun: 5, and this one made 6.

The Kennel

The Carwash

The Gang

The Hog

The Milkman

The wheel began to slow, its revolution enrapturing both Bakugo and Deku...

The dial stopped on The Milkman.

The door suddenly busted open and two grunts walked inside, carrying something that reminded Bakugo of a weird combination of a padded sawhorse and a spanking bench. There were cuffs towards the front where his arms would rest and vise versa where his calves would be placed. Towards the back of the middle cushion that would support his waist and hips, was a custom cut hole that looks like it could fit…

Bakugo’s eyes widened.

The smile that slithered onto Deku’s face was maniacal. 

Bakugo clenched his jaw, continuing to stare at the contraption even after Deku smugly faced him and tugged at the leash. 

“No.”

Tug

“Fuck. off.”

Deku cocked his head to the side, an amused expression squaring his face, as if Bakugo was a stubborn kid not wanting to get into the bath.

Tug tug tug tug-

“You mother fucking piece of stupid shit. I said no.”

“I don’t care.” Deku slurred, playing with the leash. “You don’t have a choice.”

Bakugo remained still. He wanted to fight. He wanted to scream. But if the past few days had taught him anything, it was that without his quirk, resistance only lead to extreme suffering. The bitter pill? Deku knew his body better than he did. The largest explosion in the world wouldn’t be enough to tamper how he felt about that.

“I could force you,” Deku shrugged, reaching over to open the collar. “That would be easy. But I think it would be more entertaining for me to watch my men do it. And if they have to come in here again, they’re staying.” Deku smiled, encouraged by Bakugo’s visible frustration. “And participating.”

Bakugo’s eye twitched. He knew that no matter what he did, he would end up on that fucking bench. His violent objections in the past had made quick work of him. Just thinking back to that damned tree…

When Deku gestured to the bench, Bakugo reluctantly obeyed.   

“Take everything off and get on.”

This was supposed to humiliate him. To make him compliant to his own torture. A sick kick back to those days in high school when he’d scream at anyone who dared to give him orders.

Cursing obscenities the entire time, he stripped off his clothes and laid face down onto the bench, carefully fitting his groin into the cushioned hole. 

Deku restrained him accordingly.

Thick, fur lined straps secured his wrists and ankles tightly. Another strap looped around his waist, and an added infinity loop tightly secured his lower thighs right above the bend of his knees, forcing his legs slightly apart and flush against the legs of the modded bench. 

Bakugo clenched his jaw and rested his forehead on the cool leather as Deku circled, lingering far too long right behind him.

“You really kept in shape.” Deku whistled.

“Fuck off and get this shit over with.”

“Excited to start?”

Bakugo jerked when he felt something ghosting lightly along both of his flanks, and he instantly knew it was Blackwhip. The touch felt feathery and ethereal, like cool fingers made of harmless, tickly sparklers. He closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek, grateful Deku couldn't see his face from this position.

“We have so much to catch up on.”

The ghosting along his sides curved inward, tracing and slithering over his stomach and hips. It slowly dragged back and forth, up and down over the smooth skin, making Bakugo want to claw it off.

The way he was positioned arched his back slightly, so he couldn't close that small gap that gave Deku easy access to those spots. The fucking bastard.

“We don’t have shit to do with nothin’.” Bakugo spat through his teeth, uselessly forcing himself to stay as still as possible. His stomach muscles twitched of their own accord though, instantly snitching on his stoic facade. 

“I think we do. I plan to make up for lots of lost time, Kacchan.” He goosed his ribs.

Bakugo flinched and clenched his jaw so tight, he felt the hurt in his neck. “Stop fucking calling me that.”

“Mmm. It never bothered you before. What’s different now?” 

Bakugo ground his teeth together. He jumped when he felt more tendrils start teasing the muscles on his back, tracing agonizing patterns and small circles right underneath his shoulder blades. A lone tendril slithered up his spine, slowing down just enough to trigger an involuntary lurching reaction Bakugo did every time he was touched right below the back of his neck. 

“You ffffucking-”

“Whats different now?” Deku repeated, sliding two tendrils up his spine this time.

Bakugo tensed his entire body and cringed, waiting for the tendrils to touch down on that stupid spot. Instead, he jumped when he felt them split up and caress over the top of his shoulders, tracing down to the little dip that made up the corners of his armpits. Bakugo’s arms strained, trying to push them back into himself and close the gap.

“I called you Kacchan our entire lives.” More tendrils pushed out from his back, wrapping around each of his ribs, softly vibrating in place, still tracing. Randomly, one would squeeze.

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me to stop.”

Bakugo inhaled sharply when he felt the tendrils at his shoulder blades slither down his back, the slow trek brought a curse to his lips. 

Deku didn't speak again until it teased around his lower back and touched down on his ass. 

Deku drew long and sensual circles along the soft, toned skin, causing Bakugo to twitch and huff puffs of air through his nose. Discovering his ass was ticklish was one of the things he would die to forget.

Deku’s voice was low. “The question wasn't rhetorical.” A firm squeeze to his ass made him him jump. “Or optional.”

Bakugo snarled. “Fuck off, you piece of shit.”

Deku chuckled and Bakugo seized when all of the tendrils started moving in different directions at once, all of them teasing the fuck out of him. Circles were drawn on either sides of his back, tendrils pressed inward towards his shoulder blades, along his spine, and behind his flanks. Two wafted up and down his stomach in different patterns with two more teasing the edges of his stomach. Two ghosted the rim of his armpits, occasionally dipping in smoothly, making him jump. Two teased his hipbones, occasionally dipping inward towards the inner thighs, tracing the crease right before his thighs became his crotch. The two on his ass stroked abstractly, making him twitch with each pass. He felt two additional tendrils ghost the back of his thighs and the hollows behind his knees.

He was moving around a lot now. Frustrated noises and loud puffs of air through his nose were quiet in comparison to how loud he made the bench squeak with his erratic movements. The occasional gasp left him when the tendrils tracing his ribs moved inward, playing with the sensitive spot right underneath his pecs, or that delicious spot right underneath his underarms. The occasional squeeze anywhere on his body forced him to jump. Regardless of sensitivity, all of his nerves were absolutely on fire.

 He bit the inside of his cheek when he felt two new tendrils slowly ghosting down his calves, stopping just over the heels of his feet. The only ones on his body not moving, and he was hyper aware of it.

Deku let Bakugo stew, watching the blonde lose more of his composure with every passing second. Bakugo pushed his head against the cool leather and balled his hands into shaking fists, his body starting to work up a sweat.

This was the kind of tickling he hadn’t experienced yet. It didn't make him hysterical, didn't make him scream until his throat hurt, and didn't make him thrash like his life depended on it, but it made him want to claw his fucking skin off. It tickled so fucking much, but it wasn't nearly intense enough for him to justify letting out any of the building tension through laughter. He couldn't fucking stand it.

For a hot five seconds, he went berserk on the bench. He yanked hard and bucked attempting to kick and thrash. Spittle flew from his clenched teeth and he growled when Deku watched him with a smirk, using the tendrils on the sides of his stomach to dip into a pocket of sensitive nerves right by his flanks. 

Bakugo dipped his shoulder inward and to the left, as if he could close off the gap that allowed Deku entrance. He groaned out loud and used his arms to buck once, twice, before being so fed up he couldn't handle it anymore.

“Fucking stop already!” He boomed. “If you’re gonna do it, then fucking get it over with, you pathetic coward!” The slow and methodical sensations were making him so fucking frustrated. He couldn't help the way his back arched, the way his head snapped back when the tendrils behind it slithered too close to his neck, the way his shoulders and arms jerked violently in an attempt shake off the tendrils, or the way his toes flexed and splayed regardless of the threat that ominously loomed inches away.

Deku chuckled again. “You’re so ticklish.”

Bakugo cursed when he felt two tendrils slowly gliding up the insides of his thighs. They traced the sensitive skin right next to his balls, curving up and down, spreading out and caressing the skin under his ass and back again. Bakugo spluttered and yanked hard at the restraints, the ticklish muscles in his arms flexing under the mischievous and ethereal touch of Blackwhip.

“You fucking loser ass villain bah-” The tendrils on his feet twitched. Bakugo’s mouth clamped shut.

“Hm?” Deku hummed, leaning his ear toward the heaving blonde.

“Fucker.” Bakugo cursed. “What the hell is it you want from me?”

“I’ll give you three guesses.” Deku gleefully mocked. 

“You’re a goddamn fucking moh-morohon!” Bakugo cursed, busying himself with another bout of frustrated thrashing when more tendrils swirled under his arms. “I’m not playing your backward ass games!”

Deku smirked. Without letting up on Bakugo’s treatment, he grabbed a chair and sat right next to the blonde, who had to tilt and rest his head on his left cheek to look Deku in the eyes.

“You’ll do whatever I want you to do.” He slurred, kicking his foot up on the edge of the bench where Bakugo’s shaking arm rested. 

The tendrils around his ribs prodded firmly. Bakugo flinched hard, unable to hold back the gasp that choked him.

“The day I got suspended from U.A.,” Deku’s eyes roamed shamelessly over Bakugo’s trembling body. The blonde straightened his head and closed his eyes, still painfully aware the tendrils on his feet were still as stone. Anxiety bubbled up in his throat. He knew Deku did it just to fuck with him. He fucking knew it.

“I begged you to help me.”

“K-Kacchan? Wait, Kacchan! No! STOP! PLEASE!”

“Grrh! The school hahas rules, dumbass! Not my ff-fuckin’ fault you weh-went and broke ‘em!” Bakugo snapped. The damn tendrils never stopped moving, always switching places and finding new spots on his infinitely ticklish body. He was going to throw an aneurysm if it didn't stop.

Deku’s eyes darkened. “Not your fault, huh?”

Bakugo sneered. He couldn’t focus! “Damn it! If you got somethin’ to say, just fuckin- GAH!”

The tendrils on his heels traced slowly down his foot, spilling down his arch and wiggling slowly like a snake, tracing over his incepts, the sides of his feet, wrapping around to the tops and circling their tips around the balls. 

Bakugo released a large puff of air and slammed his forehead against the leather, breathing harshly through his teeth. He yanked hard on his arms, face turning red with titanium effort. He jolted and grimaced when two tendrils slithered under his toes, the others still circling along and around the balls of his feet. Just a ghost of a sensation, but it psyched the fuck out of him.

Two more tendrils, parallel of each other, traced down the sides of his feet, looped around down to the heal, then zipped up to the toes, following the outline of the undersides and back again to repeat. Two other tendrils appeared and started tracing the ticklish spot along where the arch melts into the heal and then two other tendrils outlined his calves and ankles.

Bakugo lifted his forehead just to slammed it again against the leather rest, frustrated agony sizzling at the corners of his mouth.

Deku smirked, reveling in Bakugo’s priceless reactions. “You’re acting like I’m shoving a burning knife through your gut. I bet you would prefer that.”

Bakugo huffed and growled, sweat dripping off his heated skin. “What… do you gohddamn… aaghh- want?!”

“Let’s play a game!” Deku quickly stood, knocking over the chair. All of the tendrils finally, finally stopped and Bakugo shamelessly let his entire body flop onto the bench. He barely took two much needed breaths before Deku whistled. Bakugo heard the door open behind him, but he was too exhausted to attempt to look. That was, until he felt someone crouch underneath the bench. His head jolted up and he was about to speak when he felt something wet squishy and warm envelop his entire manhood. Bakugo jerked up so hard he actually moved the bench slightly.

“What the fuck! What the fuck?!” Bakugo screeched, thrashing heavily again as the person underneath the bench fitted the squishy thing over Bakugo’s penis and balls. The person then stood and pulled two straps around Bakugo’s waist, tying them in a neat little bow above his ass. Bakugo saw a tan hand pass Deku a controller and without a word, whoever it was, left and closed the door behind them.

Deku palmed the controller, observing it as if he were a critic admiring a strokeless painting. Bakugo’s face turned red with anger, embarrassment, and everything in-between.

“What the fuck is that? What did your perverted ass minion put on me?! Answer me, damn it!” 

“These are the rules of the game,” Deku started, ignoring Bakugo’s whining. “First, if it’s not obvious, I’ll be tickling any spot of my choosing.”

Bakugo glared at him. “What the fuck is on my dick?!”

Deku smiled. He turned the controller and Bakugo strained to see it. It looked like a TV remote but it only had eight buttons on it. One circle button in the middle with four arrows around it. There were two buttons parallel to each other below it and one button at the top.

Deku rose his pointer finger, and made a show of pressing the top button.

The on button.

Bakugo flinched with a disgusted yelp when the thing around his cock and balls started vibrating. He anchored his back and tried to pull his penis out of the hole but he couldn't lift himself high enough.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” He screamed, a whole new wave of frustration coursing through him. “You have to be fucking kidding me!” Another bout of useless thrashing. He whipped his head towards Deku, sneering at him with all the hate he could muster. “You’re fucking dead! Do you hear me? When I get the fuck out of here, you’re- AHHH!”

Deku yawned and pressed the middle button. The squishy material Bakugo was encased in started moving. It squeezed and pressed and massaged in a sloping downward fashion, simulating a blowjob with winnowing pressure that caressed his entire length. The space that enveloped his balls started gently squeezing them, massaging them softly. Then, around his scrotum, he felt a circular object like thing close tightly, acting like some sort of cock ring.

It felt… amazing.

After almost an entire week of torture, Bakugo almost succumbed to the sensations right there, despite the makeshift ring. 

Instead, he bit back his carnal reactions and pressed his forehead onto the head rest. “N- St-stop… Fffuckin’-” He groaned and bit his tongue.

“Enduring the tickling will be something you’ll have to do. What you’ll not have to do will be so much harder. Get it?”

Bakugo growled, trying to think about anything other than what his body wanted to do right now. He felt his manhood instantly get harder, more susceptible and sensitive.

“Why… why the damn-”

“I’m glad you asked.” Deku’s green eyes sparkled. “If you cum while I’m tickling you, you cant cum again on that spot for the rest of the game. If you cum twice on the same spot, you lose. If you win,” Deku shrugged again. “I’ll let you go.”

Bakugo hardly heard anything until those last four words. “What?”

“If you win,” Deku enunciated, punctuating the sentence with a careless gesture. “I’ll let you go.”

A chance. A fucking chance. He knew he couldn't rely on Deku’s word, but it was the only opportunity to present itself in this goddamn nightmare.

“Not like I… have a fuckin’ choice.” Bakugo groaned, using every ounce of energy he had not to lose the game before it could even start. 

Deku grinned. “We’ll do two rounds.”

Bakugo assumed once the tickling started, it would be easy not to focus on the thing doubling his vision. It was the only silver lining he could think of, the only hope that he could cling on to. 

Funny how he suddenly needed the tickling to overwhelm his pleasure.

“Alright!” Deku clapped his hands together. “Let’s start.”

“Set a.. Grrhh- S-set a fuckin’ timer.”

Deku tapped his temple. “It’s up here.” 

Bakugo was about to protest, but closed his mouth when Deku, with a diabolical grin, slowly unsheathed Blackwhip. The blonde watched with disgust as inky tendrils slinked toward him with twitching excitement and intent.

They touched down on his left side first, caressing his flanks and ribs and slipping softly under his arms. He cringed, the pumping sensation on his dick still prevalent. He flinched when a tendril squeezed his hips and ribs at the same time. 

“You… fuck… you said ohone damn s-spohot!” 

Deku chuckled. “I’m just trying to decide.” 

More poking and prodding, more flinching and cursing, then all of the tendrils traveled up and started tracing his shoulders, inner biceps, the lower outline and rim of his armpits.

“Here.” Deku said, joyfully. “Ten minutes starts now.”

Bakugo clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, expecting a burst of insufferable tickles, but the light tracing continued. The makeshift cock ring in the pump gradually released and he felt a rush of dangerous pleasure. With a long groan, the teasing and the tickles were completely obliterated from his mind, hardly able to feel them anymore as the pump expanded and closed in, the massage of his balls deepened causing him to shift around in his restraints, unconsciously grinding his hips to further the sensation.

He was close and was hardly resisting anymore. He teetered on the brink of ecstasy, a welcomed feeling afloat in a sea of agony and shit else. He felt something inside him swell, could have sworn the toy around his shaft pumped faster with excitement. Maybe just one time, just in this spot, wouldn’t be so bad. He could avoid it in the next round.

Yes, he’d decided. Who fucking cares if Deku watched. The sick fuck probably got off on it. Bakugo shoved his previous reservations aside and allowed the bliss to fully envelope him. Fuck everything and everyone else, with one final groan he-

“AHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHA! WHAHAAAA! DEHEHA- AAHHHHAHAHAHA! FUHUHUHK! DAHAHAMN IT!! YOHOU FUHKING- DAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Bakugo exploded into a generous mix of curses and laughter, brought on by the four tendrils circling the rims on either sides of his armpits to suddenly close in and undulate into the sensitive flesh. One was squeezing and floating around the ticklish muscle right where the armpit and chest connect. Another was pushing and rotating just above but not quite on that delectably torturous spot above his ribs, and the last two were shamelessly digging right into the center, One stationary, the other circling largely and being sure to not to leave any spot untouched. 

Bakugo thrashed. He pressed his chest into the bench and slammed his forehead onto the headrest. His hands clenched and unclenched from their trembling fists and his shoulders bounced up and down from pure mirth. The surprise caught him off guard, although he would kick himself for not expecting it if he had the ability to think at all. 

Being denied a peaceful release at the absolute last second made his body tingle with newfound sensitivity. His stomach filled with frustration and his throbbing cock twitched as it was continuously and mercilessly pumped.

Quickly tumbling down from his euphoric high, he cursed and fought. One of the tendrils found a delectable spot at the top left inner muscle, where the edge of his shoulder creased into his armpit. Being caught so grossly off guard by the spike in sensitivity, it easily knocked and bursted through to the most secluded corners of his mind.

“GAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA! AHAH AAAHHHAH! AAHAHAHA! FFFAAAHAHAHAHA- GGRRRAAAAH! GAHAHAD DAHAHMN IT STAHAHAHAP!”

Deku wore a toothy grin and just hummed to himself.

Bakugo tried to use his momentum to rock himself on the bench, hoping to tip the whole damn thing over but it held steady. Unable to manage anything more then a few stress creaks, Bakugo pushed each of his shoulders in and squished them against the bench, but the tickling never relented. He jolted violently when two random tendrils goosed his ribs.

“ARRRGGHH! GAHAAD DAHAMN YOU DEHEKHU! STAHPFUC- AAHAHAHA! STOP FUCKINGARAHAHOUND!”

Deku chuckled and raised his hands. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn't resist.”

“BAHAHSTAHAHARD! SHIHIHIHT! GAH! NO! NOO!! STAHAHAP!”

Deku feigned innocence as one of his lower tendrils slowly slinked more so towards the bottom of his armpits, causing Bakugo to thrash harder, doing a piss poor job of covering up his panic.

Suddenly, he yelled out when he felt the toy around his manhood start to squeeze. The tendrils under his arms gradually slowed their manic torment, leaving Bakugo huffing and puffing with each sensitive pass. Bakugo rested his sweat riddled forehead against the leather, squeezing his eyes shut in aggravation. The transition from obnoxious tickling  pleasure was rough and Bakugo felt his arms shake.

The smile in Deku’s voice was infuriating. “How are we doing?”

He didn't realize it until a surge of pleasure slapped him in the face but Blackwhip was no longer pinching and prodding. Instead, swirling and ghosting. The toy around Bakugo’s length suddenly started pumping, undulating up and down in an unpredictable pattern. Strokes, like a tongue, traveled up his length, the winnowing pressure taking him in deep while it massaged his balls. Although still there, the tickling quickly became secondary.

Bakugo couldn't help the carnal groan that left his tight lips. Everything fell away from him as he openly welcomed the only good sensation he’s felt since being in this shit hole. He wanted this and he didn't care if Deku saw and mocked him. This was only the first round, He’d be able to avoid-

Bakugo yelled out as he released the first drops of ecstasy. The slicked out muscles on his back rippled as he arched into it, riding the whole thing out. The tendrils never stopped teasing his armpits, and he didn't give a shit. He couldn't feel it anymore. Sparks ignited and bloomed across his vision. After a moment of shameful, shattering pleasure, he slumped. Spent and breathless.

Deku whistled.

The toy didn’t slow. He felt something brush across his reddened tip. Bakugo twitched and gasped, pushing his hips back as far as he could.

”Fff-Fuck!”

”That’s one for the armpits.” Deku commented, casually. “If it’s going to be this easy then I think you might be screwed.” 

“S-sta- Sh- I’m- I’m gonna-“

“What?” Deku’s eyebrows rose, amused.

”I’m gonna fffuckin’ k-kill you.” Bakugo panted, his pitch rising and falling in rhythm with the thing around his cock overstaying its welcome.

Deku’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “There’s the Kacchan I knew.” 

Bakugo opened his mouth but slammed it shut when Blackwhip started moving.

”After All Might gave me One For All,” Deku started, moving Blackwhip slowly, ever so slowly downward. “He told me to keep it a secret.”

“I’m sorry, young Midoriya. Please hold still.”

Bakugo cringed as he felt the tendrils slowly swoop over his ribs. He felt them expand so they caressed right underneath his chest. Two tendrils on each side teased the ribs that wrapped around his back, while two other sneaky ones still swirled in his armpits. He hissed through his teeth as chills iced down his spine and goosebumps appeared all over his body. He shook his head, as if he could will it all away. To his dismay, the teasing is so much more frustratingly ticklish than before.

He grunted when two guileful tendrils flicked and circled his nipples on either side.

“But I told you about it anyway, and I did it out of respect. Respect you didn’t deserve or appreciate.” Deku continued. “Even after All Might, The hero we both grew up admiring, saw it fit to pass his quirk onto me, you still told me I was worthless. Unworthy of U.A. A psychopathic freak.” 

A tendril goosed his upper ribs, another slithered down his stomach, drawing wide circles around his belly button. Two closed in on his hips, pressing into the bone with light pressure. Two teased the skin underneath his ass, two played with the tendons next to his groin, right along the edge of the toy. Another two slinked down his legs and teased his ankles while circling around the heels of his feet. He jumped when an additional pair circled around the balls, occasionally dipping in and tracing the skin right underneath his toes, massaging the stems and teasing the bases.

His heart rate picked up and his breath came fast. His skin tingled as his nerves fired at him with obnoxious sensitivity. He could feel every delicate stroke, every harsh poke, every sensual touch and squeeze, and couldn't help the giggles when they spilled out of his snarling mouth.

The fucking orgasm. It made him even more sensitive.

He was so fucking screwed.

Deku paused, letting the epiphany the other was clearly having, sink in. “I started to believe you.”

All of the tendrils poked their respective spots at once, causing Bakugo to let out an undignified yelp and jolt. Every little movement now started him to the core. 

“Funny how a worthless, psychopathic freak now holds the leash to your collar.”

“Is that what this bullshit is about?” Bakugo’s voice boomed with irritation, edgy nervousness punctuating the end of his accusation. “What the hell do you want, damn Deku? A fuckin’ apology or somethin’?”

Deku shook his head. All the humor was void from his face, his voice dark and emotionless. “I’ve never wanted anything from you.”

Bakugo blinked when Deku raised his hand with the remote and pointed it at him. He couldn't see what button he pressed, but he gasped when suddenly the toy started vibrating. Teasing strokes evolved into sensuous pumping. He was hard again in seconds.

The tendrils eased off. All except the ones stationed at his ribs. Three teased the bottom, two on his left, one on his right. Two on each side teased the middle of his ribs, swirling and poking, following the curve of his back, and another  two danced across his upper ribs, rubbing back and forth, up and down, ghosting underneath and the sides of his chest.

“I’m sure you can guess which spot is next.” Deku clicked his tongue. “Looks like you might lose before I even start.” 

Bakugo’s head snapped up from where it was resting. “Fuck you!” His biceps strained with the titanic effort of trying to lower his arms. He arched his back, pushed himself forward, tried to dip his shoulders and chest hard against the leather, but nothing phased the tendrils determined to take me straight to hell. They encouraged the sort of panic that he felt like he could taste. The toy’s vibrations increased, the flesh of the toy slowly starting to suck, doubling his vision with pleasure.

“There was a spot around here… where was it again?” Blackwhip poked and nudged at his entire rib cage. Bakugo spluttered and hissed through his teeth, body jolting and flinching with every jab.

“Fucker! You, mother fuc-!!” Bakugo spat. “Stop this- Mmgghhm- bulh-bullshit! III’ve fuckin’ had it with y-AH!”

“Mmmm.” Deku mused. Blackwhip paused, pinpointed tendrils vibrating softly right on that dreaded spot. Bakugo froze as well, looking at Deku with the most hateful glare he’d ever given anyone.

“I wonder if-” 

Squeeze

Bakugo inhaled so sharply, he choked. “AUGH! Damn it, stop!” He tried to haft and throw himself around on the bench. Deku only smiled, a sadistic glint in his eyes.

Blackwhip softly, softly undulated once more and Bakugo would have hit the ceiling if he wasn't so tightly restrained. “MMGGHH! STOP! Don’t you fucking do it, you fuck!”

The toy around his needy length pumped faster and his attention was quickly averted to the sudden burst of pleasure that wracked through his body and made him shutter. His mouth opened in a silent groan, which transformed into an unrestrained yell as Blackwhip again, teased one of his death spots.

He hafted himself up hard, creaking the bench. “NO!” He cursed, shoving all of the authority in his voice that he could muster. “Just fucking stop this! I swear to FuhuahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAK! SHIHIT!”

The three tendrils teasing the bottom of his ribs dove in, rubbing fast and harshly between and around the bone, the third tendril went rogue and snuck over his quivering stomach and down to his thighs. Bakugo shook his head in delirium and fruitlessly bucked his hips up and down. Even with the torturous tickling rerouting his mind, the pleasure he was feeling from the toy was still very much present. Slowly, he felt himself twitch and glisten with pressing need.

Deku hummed. “Oh, does that tickle?” 

“FAHAHAK YOU! GAAGHH! NAAAAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAP!” 

The tendrils stationed at the middle of his ribs came alive, mimicking the same unpredictable technique as the ones on his lower ribs. Bakugo fought hard, knowing what was next, knowing he couldn't stop it. Two tendrils slowly wrapped around his thighs, goosing and tickling the whole way. Bakugo expected them to attack his thighs again, but unexpectedly, they slipped their teasing tips underneath the sleeve of the toy, now slowly stroking and wrapping around the bare skin of his penis. Aside from dissolving into harsh thrashing and seizing like he touched an exposed cable, something else instantly came over him. In a moment of panicked weakness he opened his mouth.

“AAHHH! GAHH! WAIT! FUKIN’ WAHAITWAIT! WAHT DOYOUWAHAHAHNT?!” 

Deku answered simply. “This.”

Two things happened at the same time. 

The tendrils resting and teasing his death spot pulled back and dove right in. Viciously rubbing into that incomprehensibly ticklish spot without a shred of mercy. Four more vibrating tendrils latched on, squeezing, rubbing and scratching torturously. 

The tendrils that snuck into the toy, wrapped around the entirety of Bakugo’s heat and lightly squeezed, following the rhythm of the toy. It pumped Bakugo excitedly, the two tips reaching his pre-cum soaked tip to swirl and rub, lick and tease. One of the tips pressed underneath the head, flicking under it like like an experienced tongue, while the other teased and stroked the slit.

Torn between two incredibly overwhelming sensations, Bakugo’s voice instantly gave out. For a moment, there was silence. Bakugo’s mouth was open in a silent, lustful, tortured scream, his sweat glistened muscles rippled with the intense single pull he was imposing onto all of his limbs. His toes clenched and his nails bit into his fists. After one sharp intake of breath, 

Bakugo fittingly exploded.

“AHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FAHAHHA! NONONOHOHOHONOOOOO! GAHHH! NAHA- I CAHHAHA- ST- GAHAHAHAHAD OHHOHOH FUCK! OHFUUUUUCK!! DEHEHE- PFFTAHAHAAHAHA!! AHAHAAAASHIHIT! SHITSHITSAHIT!! AHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAH! GGRRAAAAAHHH!!! -AHAHHAHAHAAA————OOOOOPP! STAHAHAHAP STOPSTOPSTOPFUCKINGHELLSTOHOHOHOHP!! AHAHAHA————”

 Deku watched Bakugo fall apart, a maniacal, sadistic smile creasing his face. “Found it.”

“AAAAHH! FUCKDEKUSTOOOOOOOOOOOP! FAHAHAK! I CAHAHA- GAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I CAAAAHAHAHAH-”

“What was that?” Deku stuck his tongue into his cheek. “You can’t what?”

Bakugo’s mind was blank. His entire world was encompassed by all of the sensations saturating every recess of his brain. He whipped his head around, slamming it repeatedly against the headrest, the cushioning not even allowing him the relief of pain. He quickly approached the lower level of laughter, where it became mostly screams.

“ICANTTAKEIT! OHFUCKINGSHIT I FUKIN CAHAHAHAHA! AHAHA AHA AHA AHAHAH! ICAHAHAHANT! STOOOOOOOOHOHAAAAAAAAP!”

The toy picked up its pace, encouraging the tendrils wrapped around his dick to follow along. A few new tendrils squeezed his balls, Two flicked and rubbed his nipples, one even licked up the side of his neck, right underneath his jaw. His eyes flew to the back of his head.

“Want me to stop tickling or stop pumping?”

Bakugo’s face was alight with fire, he wasted no time. “TICKLING! STAHAH THE TIHIHIH-TIHIH- FAHAHAHAK! STAHAHAHAP TIHIHAHAHA-!”

“If I stop the tickling, you’ll lose the round. Are you sure you-”

“YES! YEHEHEHS! YESYESYESJUST- SHIHIHIHT!! STAHAHAHAP! FUCKINGHEHEHELL!” 

Deku instantly stopped and focused his energy into on the blonde’s dick.

“MMMMPHHHHH FFFFFUUCK!” Bakugo moaned, arching his back and shaking his head, grinding his hips along the bench. “FFFFFFFFUHHHHHK!” Bakugo groaned, lost in a new kind of torment.

He closed his eyes, everything instantly fell away from him when he felt a tendril slip over his tip again. He felt the build up burn in his stomach, felt his penis throbbing, his tip glistening, ready for release. He felt the most powerful orgasm he’d ever had gather, aching in his swollen balls. Despite the need for air, he held his breath as the first drops of-

“GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”

Bakugo’s voice cracked when everything simply stopped.

The tendrils and the toy fell limp. His body tingled as if all of his limbs fell asleep. Sweat dripped off his chin as he gasped. Opening his mouth to curse, a strangled sound came out instead when everything resumed. He flinched and jolted in his restraints, but the pumping and “licking” resumed, throwing him right back into that agonizing build up. Right when he could see stars, it stopped again.

He jerked his head up and seared his eyes into amused green ones with a guttural growl, only to force his head back down and clench his fists when it all started again.

“You…. You ffffuh- ffucking b-”

“I’m just helping you out.” Deku cocked his head to the side, chuckling. “Trust me, you don’t want to cum again.”

Bakugo closed his eyes, but he couldn't have a moment of rest before the pumping started again. He filled his cheeks with curses and air, releasing them in a flurry when rogue tendrils buried themselves into his ribs, his worst spot spared for now, as he was thrown head first into more ticklish chaos. He couldn't handle this much longer. He couldn't handle this now. He felt his sanity slipping through the cracks, but it didn't matter.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Deku trilled after a few more minutes. “If you beg me to cum, I’ll let you. Then we can move on.”

Beg him to lose the game. Beg him to take away the small change at freedom and hope that he had. Beg him to keep him here and torture him until help eventually came or he went batshit.

No, no he couldn't.

Bakugo snapped out of it. He returned Deku’s wicked glare and sneered. “Fuck. You.”

Deku narrowed his eyes and smirked, as if he was hoping for that exact answer. “Tickling it is then.”

First, there was a moment of silence.

Then pure, unadulterated madness.

Blackwhip attacked every inch of Bakugo’s ribcage. Bakugo screamed, a high pitched uncharacteristic shriek that shocked both of them. Then, he fell into manic, hysterical unrestrained laughter. Laughter that only maddened when his worst spot was finally targeted. Bakugo couldn't feel when the toy started again, couldn't feel the bubbling build up, or the burn of release that taunted him from mere inches away. He couldn't feel any of it, not until the tickling abruptly stopped and he stole greedy breath before countless tendrils converged on the entirety of his tip, sliding and slinking over the crimson peak it while the tendrils wrapped around his dick pumped up and down his length with mouth watering speed. His eyes stung with mirthful tears before he was thrown right back into ticklish oblivion. 

Once his death spot was awarded another short break, Bakugo used that opportunity to quickly give up.

“OKAYOKAYOKAHAHAHAHAYE! OKAHAHAHAHAY JUHUSTFUKINGDOHOHOHIT! I GIHIHIVE! IGIVE! JAHAHAAST MAAKEMECUM! DHAHAMNIT!”

“Mmmm,” Deku considered for a moment. “Say please.”

“AAGHHAHAHA!! GAHAHAHDDAHAHMN YOU!” Bakugo was slapping the edge of the leather wrist rest with his hand, trying to physically tap out. “PLEHEHESE! FUCKINPLEHEHESE! JUHUST STOP TIHIHIHCKLING!”

The tickling didn't stop completely, but it was enough. Bakugo was hardly afforded the gift of relief as tendrils immediately pumped and licked, massaged and caressed his entire length. The toy suddenly closed up around the tip and so similar to a warm mouth, he felt licking, swirling and even sucking. The rest of his twitching member was caressed and abused with soft and fast lustful strokes. Spit dribbled out of his mouth and beads of sweat glided down his sides and back as he arched.

 He had no idea how many tendrils were pleasuring him now, but every damn spot was zapped with unbelievable, world shattering, sinful pleasure. Tendrils slinked through his toes and circled around the balls of his feet. Others lightly ghosted up his long arches and more teased his heals. New, lustful feelings seared from his feet straight to his dick, which pulsed in tandem with the activity. He didn’t dare start to unpack that.

The tendrils reappeared at his nipples and neck, his eyes once again dug into the back of his head.

He lasted an impressive 50 seconds.

He groaned out loud with his long release, his damp rob and body twitching through each pump of glorious rapture. His orgasm, almost matching the duration of his endurance, forced his twitching toes to curl, the squirming tendrils undeterred by even that. His abs and back muscles flexed, the light reflecting off of each sweaty twitch and convulsion.

He slumped heavily after it was through. He bucked and hissed when the tendrils around his ribs hardly gave him a second before teasingly slinking down, tracing over his twitching sides and pressing into his hips and thighs.

“Two for two.” Deku counted, unapologetically. “I’m not sure I like your odds.” 

Bakugo couldn't muster a response. The tendrils around his hips and thighs forced a few half assed curses and poorly held back giggles from him. He arched his back, huffing when they pressed into the soft spaces inward next to his hips, ticklishly stroking down between his thighs. Oh shit.

“Agghh staha- Mmmhh. No mohore.” He murmured. His once silky ash blonde hair was now dark and matted, sticking to his eyes and head. “I-I— God, I fffucking can’t- I can’t d-do this shit anymore.” His body sizzled with heightened sensitivity. Even the breeze across his fucking feet tickled.

 Deku looked at him for a moment before shaking his head slowly. “The game isn’t over yet.”

The tendrils found a ticklish tendon underneath and inward along his ass and inner thigh, and pressed into it. Bakugo barked out a surprised laugh and squirmed weakly.

Deku was silent as he teased that spot, longer than the pro hero thought he could tolerate. 

“One more spot,” Deku announced, pushing his tendrils down over his thighs, creeping over the back of his ticklish knees, lingering there for a moment before tickling toward his calves. “Then round two starts.”

The tendrils slowly slithered down this calves, forcing him to half groan, half whine and bite his cheek. When they grazed over his Achilles heal and brushed down around the sides of his feet, Bakugo felt a surge of adrenaline course through him, energy he pointlessly wasted by yelling a stream of obscenities and fighting hard as he could. He’d never felt more helpless, he’d never been so tortured, he’d never felt as if he could be reduced to begging, but here he was, those sinful words dancing at the tip of his tongue, tempting him like food tempts a starved man. 

All from tickling.

Blackwhip paused and Bakugo knew it was over. His fatigue caught up moments before and he stared at Deku with wide pleading eyes. Deku drank that up like a craved cigarette. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

Well, almost.

“Wait! Deku, wai-”

The rest of his plea fizzled and died on his lips.

He felt it everywhere and nowhere. Tendrils raced over and under his flailing toes, some scratched right underneath and along the stems and pads, more circled and scratched the balls of his feet, playing with the plump, overly sensitive pads. Additional ones scratched just at the creases underneath the balls, which at this point hadn’t been touched and absolutely drove him up the metaphorical wall of madness and hysteria. Others stroked up and down and side to side, playing along his creamy arches, paying special attention to the spot where the heel melts into the arch, while more circled and teased his heels. Two tickled and scratched along the sides of each foot, a few, Bakugo couldn't count, even tickled the tops of his feet along with some slowly stroked up and down this claves and two stragglers unfairly burrowing into the back of his knees.

Bakugo couldn't comprehend anything except how much it fucking tickled.

His mouth was wide open in a silent scream, his eyes squeezed shut, saturated with mirthful tears. When additional tendrils started stroking and alternating between the arches and balls of his feet, a switch flipped in him. He started bouncing up and down, moving the bench slightly as he tried to lift and drop his weight, trying to use pure strength to break it or at least flip it over. Aside from a few cracks and creaks, it was silent as he wasted precious, limited energy.

More at the top and sides. Extra in between the toes. Something evil goosed his ribs.

That was all he couldn't handle.

“NOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHO! NONONONAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FUUUUUCK! AHA AHAHA! AHAHHAHAH! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOOOOOOOOOOOP!YOU STUPID FUCKING PIECE OF MOTHERFUCKINGSHIT ILL FUCKING KIHIHIHIHLL YOUDEAAAAD! MMMGGHGHHMHMHMHMMMAAAAAH!! GOD! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!”

Pure, tortured belly laughter bellowed out of him like a fog horn. His laughter only evolved, turning pained and high pitched when the thing on his cock started vibrating.

“NOOO!”

The tendrils along his feet started slowing, sensually rubbing and tickling his toes. Electricity flitted through his dick, standing to attention within seconds.

Curses temporarily overwhelmed his laughter when Blackwhip wrapped around and pulled his toes back. The sweat coating Bakugo’s body created enough slip for the tendrils to wreak absolute havoc just along the undersides and stems of his toes, where the sensitive skin had been pulled and crueley exposed. Bakugo thrashed and screamed and spat and heaved, but nothing stopped it. Nothing topped it.

This time, Deku didn't edge, didn't relent, and didn't change the pace. Either Bakugo was going to cum like this, or he wasn't.

“PLEHEHEHEHEHESE! AHAHAHA! OOHGADDAMNITPLEEHEHESE!!”

“What are you begging for?” Deku inquired. Bakugo couldn't care that he was being mocked, couldn’t even take the few seconds of brain power to register or understand it.

“AAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH ST- AHAHAHA! MA-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FUCKFUCKFUCK I CAAAAA————”

Silence. Deku furrowed his brows and leaned forward, cupping a hand to his ear. “Hmm?”

“——————PAHA- PH- PLEHE- PLEHEHEHESE! WAHAHAH- WAIHIHIHT! NAHAHA I- I GOHOHAHAH! MMMMMMHHHHHFFFFFAAAGGHHHHH!!!”

The tickling hardly slowed as stars blurred his vision. A loud, animalistic moan burned his raw throat. He came hard, the tendrils slipping and sliding gleefully inside the wet toy.

Even after he was done, it continued for a few more seconds, prompting a loud continuous scream from him that only relented a few moments after everything truly stopped.

He collapsed, breathing so hard and deep that his chest ached.

He only knew one thing; He couldn't fucking handle this anymore.

Deku slow clapped and whistled. “Bet you never thought you could be tickled into an orgasm.”

Bakugo didn't respond, he hardly heard him. He flinched hard when the tendrils teasingly retracted from his reddened and raw feet, traveling up his trembling body once again.

Bakugo moaned. “N-no… Please…Just … please just stop.” 

Deku shook his head and beamed. “The game isn’t over yet.”

Bakugo shook his head, entirely defeated. “No more.”

Deku eyes glittered, the emerald hue glowing as though the devil himself had possessed the soul behind them. “Remember,” Tendrils slithered up to his aching ribs. Bakugo gritted his teeth and pulled his arms. Deku’s eyes crinkled. “You cant cum in the same spot twice.”

Tendrils slipped under his arms, waving and stroking like wheat in the wind.

A noise, almost like a disgruntled whine slipped out of Bakugo. “Please. Deku, please just fucking stop this.”

More tendrils. Bakugo inhaled sharply. “I-I know what I di-did wahas fucked a-”

“Is that all it took?” Deku murmured, voice low. “Hours of tickle torture for you to realize that?”

“No!” Bakugo winced as tendrils spilled down his ribs. “Damn it! I’ve known, you fucktard! I- Fuck! I just- SHIHIT! Just- FUCK! Let me goddam taHAHAlk!”

“No.” Deku put a hand up, silencing the quivering blonde. “It might come as a shock to you, but I haven’t thought about what happened in a long time.”

Tracing along the heels of his feet. Bakugo cringed.

“I’ve wanted this for a while. To torture you, and make you beg.” Tendrils slipped into the hollows behind his knees. “To make you answer for each and every horrible thing you did to me, down to every dirty look.” Tendrils teased up his spine again, causing him to lurch forward as much as he could. “I wanted to break you and make you pay. I still do.” Tendrils ghosted down his arms, teasing the skin under his biceps. “Maybe one day, I’ll let you explain it to me. But right now,” Deku stood, straightening his back. All the tendrils lifted themselves from his body, pointing their tips over their respective spots.

“It turns out, I don’t give a shit.” 

Tendrils burrowed into his underarms. As if he were being repeatedly tased with a stun gun, he convulsed and seized, immediately dissolving into loud, unrestrained guffaws. His entire being was now just a big ball of overly sensitized, ticklish nerves to which Blackwhip took full advantage of. It dug, scratched, wiggled, pinched and squeezed all over his body, the main event  taking place in his armpits. He fell into silent laughter once, twice, three times within the span of a few minutes.

He couldn't fight when the toy started vibrating, when he felt more of Blackwhip dip into the sleeve of the toy, when the tendrils ghosting and tickling his thighs pinched and traced along his ass, and when tendrils teased the newfound egregious zones on his feet. He gave in to the torture, unable to protest when the freedom he had no chance of earning burned out of him for the fourth time.

Everything stopped. His head fell in misery. 

Then snapped back up.

He felt it in his armpits, ribs, thighs, groin, feet, knees, calves, arms- everywhere. 

Every spot Deku had learned was put to merciless use. 

Bakugo’s screams echoed throughout the room, down the hall, and drifted outside, haunting the grounds like loitering ghosts.

He didn't know how long it took for him to finally pass out.

—

His eyes groggily flitted open.

It took a few minutes for his vision to fully come back to him. It took even longer for him to remember where he was. Eyes locked on the water damaged ceiling, his head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls. When his brain started to catch up with his body, he felt it. 

Holy shit, he ached. 

His throat felt chipped and raw, his head pounded hard at the side of his temples, his fucking ribs and stomach…

He groaned and pushed himself up, stomach muscles screaming as he held his head in his hand. One glance around the room and one more zap from his aching body confirmed that what happened to him wasn’t just a fucked up nightmare.

Catching a glimpse of something in the corner of his eye, he turned his attention to the flimsy nightstand next to his bed. Three bottles of water were placed onto it, along with some dark steaming, floral smelling liquid inside of a beige mug with a spoon sticking out of it. In front of that was a bottle of Advil, a sandwich on a small, circular paper plate, and an envelope. All neatly placed together.

Any reservations he’d possessed about eating and drinking had been thwarted long ago, so he downed the first bottle in seconds as well as half of the second before deciding to swallow three Advils along with the rest. He placed the third bottle underneath the mattress and observed the contents of the mug, deciding it was tea. He took a tentative sip, sighing when the hot liquid velveted down his sore throat, soothing it and warming his stomach. A hint of ginger left a subtle, spicy tang and he could have sworn he tasted a bit of honey. He ate his sandwich as he sipped.

He didn't want to think about who left all of this stuff here for him, much less why. As far as he knew, everyone in this fucking place had access to his room and everyone was a damn scumbag for it.

His gaze turned to the envelope. He finished the tea, pulled the lip open, and pulled out something small and rectangular, wrapped in white tissue paper. 

He tore the paper off and his stomach dropped.

“K-Kacchan? Wait, Kacchan! No! STOP! PLEASE!”

It was old and worn. It looked exactly like his.

“PLEASE!”

It was Deku’s All Might trading card.