In It For The Drugs || Male Reader

01 - Possessive Customers

TW: Drugs, Possessive Behavior, 

(Y/n) - Your Name 

(E/c) - Eye Colour 

(H/c) - Hair Colour 

Semi choosing stuff so it can blend into the story easier ^-^ 

E.g - Hair length is chin length,

The mask is a simple face structure with ghosts doodles on, 

Code name: Spectre 

            ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Don't think that the irony was lost on him. Almost a week ago he saw some C Tier drug dealer get beaten so bad he swore the dude was just a bloody smear on the concrete the unstable movement of breathing barely noticeable over the twitching. The dude was left halphhazardly on the steps of the nearest police station.

Yet here he was with the same people doing the same thing the only difference is instead of the pros raising their fists for violence here they raised them with money between their fingers. Letting it slide into his hand to pass them a vial of black and gold. 

Not the strongest stuff he can make but definetly his most selling product. The effects were immediate but changed with every person some say it felt like LSD others say Shrooms or Crystal but in the end none of that mattered what did though is the lack of side effects.

The worst you can get out of it is maybe a small headache.  Which for people who kinda need to be ya know actually doing something that requires more brain cells than other jobs it was like a prayer come true to get the high without long lasting health effects.

He was admittly ignoring that there was long term effects a few really but as long as he never sold to the same person twice within a week he can stave out the inevitable outrage. Usually the dosage was low enough that the addictiveness was barely there wouldn't want another Opium outbreak.

This also meant he can over charge as much as he wants most of the time no one cared. He had only had a few customers just grumble about the price before paying up large sums of money for just one vial it was great. 

The smile (Y/n) was wearing would be disturbing if someone could actually see it but alas it was hidden behind a full face mask, it was a simple little thing it followed the basic structure of a face the design being just many doodles of ghosts.

As another person had walked up to him and tapped his shoulder two fingers up  money already in hand definetly enough for two vials and with a quick grab from his belt the vials in his hands were replaced with cash.

The concerning reality of dizzy spells became more worrying every time the room blurs for more than a couple seconds, at he coming here when you were practically drained of blood wasn't the smartest desicion in his book. Who would he realistically trust to move his product surrounded by heroes? 

There is only one person who helps him make this shit and he wouldn't even consider walking out in an area that holds more than two people no way would he come to a packed party with Pro Heroes.

He knows that he has seen some well known villians and politicians in the crowd but it's easier to ignore that. The problematic nature of it all would melt his brain before he could stand a chance at unpacking that. 

So here he is almost passing out making his way to the kitchen hoping to raid the fridge and cupboards cause fuck the owner he was weird trying to get closer to him. 

This was the third time he has been to the dudes house and everytime (Y/n) decided to try not to come here again. 

The place was fucking huge and cold in that rich 'I don't live here' vibes. No photos no personality just an empty husk. Creeped the fuck out of (Y/n).