#this obsession is really persistent damn

[alicornze7]

I am so normal I am so normal I am so-

did these sketches right after ep 2 and those two are not helping (you know if you know)

[makeitworse]

SEOUL CITY

♬ seungcheol as your older bf. (age gap hcs. 18+)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀HE SAYS MY ATTITUDE OUT OF CONTROL ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀TELL ME WHAT TO DO, MR GENERAL

✦ the first time you called him “oppa,” he flinched. not because he didn’t like it— oh he did, too much— but it hit him like bricks just how young you sounded when you said it. how wrong it should feel. it never stopped you, though. and he’d never ask you to.

✦ he didn’t act on his feelings at first. he’s well aware of just how much older he is, how often people talk. but you’re a persistent little thing: always coming to him for advice, always calling late at night, always so damn sweet when you look up at him and say his name like he’s your whole world. so eventually, inevitably, he gives in.

✦ the power imbalance isn't lost on him. he pays for everything. teaches you things he’s learned over the years. set boundaries you’re too passive to set for yourself. cheol justifies it as protection— but there's a part of him that likes it. the dependency. the trust. how you lean on him, need him.

✦ cheol spoils you in ways that blur the line between boyfriend and provider. gas tanks full, appointments paid for, new clothes ‘just because’. he’ll never say it out loud, but it’s like his way of staking his claim, you know? taking care of you in a way no one else could compete.

✦ he’s incredibly protective. doesn’t like you staying out late without him, gets irritated if you mention a guy friend your age. he tells himself it’s cause he knows better, knows what boys that young are after. but it’s jealousy. he hates the damn word, but it is. the fear you’ll wake up one day and want someone you can relate to a little more.

✦ he’ll often pull you into his lap when he’s sitting down. he has a tendency to after arguments too. his voice low, hands firm on your waist, tone shifting to tender in a single breath. it’s his way of grounding. a reminder that he’s the one who adores you, and still the one in charge.

✦ “you don’t know what you want yet,” he’d tell you more than once. especially when you try to push his buttons, act older, test his limits. it’s part concern, part arrogance. sometimes he thinks you’re not ready for a ‘real’ relationship— but he’s not strong enough to stay away.

✦ cheol calls you “baby” more than your name. at times it’s “kid,” like when he’s annoyed. other times it’s “good girl,” when you’ve done something that makes him feel pride. there’s a tenderness in it, but also a sense of ownership. like you belong to him in every sense.

✦ it took some time before you actually slept together. there’d been no end of cheol going down on you, making you cry with just his hands. but he never asked for anything in return; always shaking his head when you’d offer. cheol didn’t want to rush, wanted to ease you into it. and you found out why the first time he pulled down his pants. he’s huge. rightfully worried about hurting you. it took about a week of foreplay before he had the courage.

✦ cheol’s usually careful during sex: obsessively so. gentle, slow, constantly checking in. but there’s an underlying tension simmering under his skin. that part of him he suppresses, that wants to utterly ruin you. to make sure no one else will ever measure up. he bites it back— most of the time.

✦ once you called him “daddy,” just as a joke. but with how he went still next to you, his pupils swallowed with black— you knew you had that over him. cheol had promptly plucked you up with two big hands on your waist, tossing you to the nearest couch, hands already unbuckling his belt. he’d lost himself in a way you only rarely get to see. but you try to rile it out of him.

✦ the guilt creeps in during quiet moments. when you’re asleep beside him, curled up peacefully, and he realises just how small you look. remembers the gaps between your worlds. he wonders what your parents really think. what his members bite their tongues about. but cheol doesn’t stop. not when his own advice to himself would be that he probably should. because you sleeping soundly next to him, warm and safe, is all that he gives two shits about.

✦ you told him you love him first. he had hesitated: not because he doesn’t feel it— you’ve got no idea how deeply he does— but because it’s like he’s holding something fragile in his hands. and if he says it back, there’s no undoing it. no going back. but he does anyway. “i love you too, my girl.” and he knows then that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

notes: another age gap fic by attie welcome to the club coups og post

taglist (join here): @lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ferrarifinnick @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @pinkpunkdynamite @babycaratdeul @sseungcheols @cheers2hani @chocolattexyz @riyahwooahae @macheriezz @onceuponateenagetrash @choshushu @theold8 @thedragonholder @jihooniesss @markkiatocafe @channieschubbycake @okinawwa @sseungcheols @cheers2hani @accalus @hhwksixjshs @priisprii @wenhuihuii @t-bag2 @natalicss @jmkookie0 < can’t tag

[vandme12]

Could I please request Ronin with a reader who got a stalker after their book got popular? They don’t really see the stalker as a threat, they’ve dealt with the devil after all.

But what if he gets a little too close and it forces Ronin to do something about it, but the reader beat him to it?

Have a great day!

Your first mistake was underestimating the appeal of a killer.

The book—your book—was never supposed to blow up like this. A bloody, intimate little crime novel, loosely inspired by the slasher-flavored chaos you’d somehow made a life out of. It was supposed to be niche, a cult hit at best. But now? Every other day, there’s a new notification about someone thirsting after your fictional killer. Reviews drool over his sadism, his devil-may-care attitude, the way he breaks his victims like it’s a love language.

They have no idea he’s real. That he kisses you with the same mouth he uses to threaten lives.

Ronin thinks it’s hilarious.

“‘The Devil’s Butcher could get it, tbh,’” he reads aloud one night, cackling over a tweet on your phone. “Aw, sweetheart—why didn’t ya tell me I had fans? Coulda started a damn fan club. Goreboy Nation. Merch n’ everythin’.”

You roll your eyes, shoving his face away from your screen. “You’re already insufferable. If you start selling t-shirts, I’m out.”

Ronin just hums, teeth grazing your neck—playful. Sharp. “Nah, ya ain’t goin’ anywhere, darlin’. Face it: ‘m the only devil who’s gonna put up with ya.”

You let him think that. Let him croon against your skin like the world itself belongs to him—like you belong to him. (He isn’t wrong.)

But the thing is, while the fans are fun and the money’s nice, you know better than anyone that obsession isn’t cute.

So when you first notice the messages—subtle at first, just a little too knowing—you don’t think much of it. You’ve been stalked before. Hell, your boyfriend is a stalker if you squint a little. What’s one more weirdo with boundary issues?

But then your inbox gets weird.

The stalker doesn’t ask normal fan questions. They pick apart the details—the parts you shouldn’t know, shouldn’t be able to write about. Things only Ronin would recognize. Things you shouldn’t have access to.

They know too much.

“You think it’s a cop?” you ask one night, lounging on Ronin’s ratty couch while he sharpens one of his knives.

He snorts. “Please. If the cops were that competent, I’d be in cuffs already.” He tilts his head, glancing at you through dark lashes. “You worried, baby?”

Worried? Not exactly. Not when your boyfriend has a body count higher than his IQ.

You shrug. “I can handle it.”

Ronin grins, wolfish and bright. “I know ya can.”

The first time you mention the stalker, Ronin laughs.

You do get it now..

"Aw, c’mon, darling," he drawls over the phone, voice honey-sweet with a razor’s edge. "You’re tellin’ me some pencil-idiot creep thinks they can rattle you? After all we’ve been through? Cute."

He’s not worried—why would he be? You’ve survived him, after all.

To Ronin, there’s no comparison. Some obsessive fan sending you weird, clingy emails and waiting outside your apartment doesn’t rank high on his list of threats. Not when you’ve faced worse and walked away with your heart still beating—his, too, if he’s feeling sentimental.

You’re not worried either. Not really.

You’ve danced with the devil and kissed him in an alley soaked with blood. Some guy with a parasocial complex doesn’t exactly make your skin crawl—not in the way it should. But it’s annoying. Persistent. And starting to piss you off.

At first, it’s small things. A note on your windshield after a signing. Flowers sent to your P.O. box with no return address. Emails signed Your biggest fan that come in the dozens—rambling, incoherent praise. Nothing that feels threatening, not really. Just… there.

You don’t mention it again for weeks. Ronin’s busy, anyway. Uptown’s been keeping him occupied—more bodies in Purgatory, more sinners to crucify. You don’t blame him for being distracted. If anything, you like that he’s got bloodier things on his mind.

Still, when he catches you laughing over a particularly unhinged email, he makes a sound low in his throat. Dangerous. Interested.

"That your little stalker again?"

"Yeah," you say, spinning lazily in your office chair. "Dude thinks we’re soulmates or something. Poor guy has no clue what he’s up against."

"Mm." A pause. His voice dips, velvet-soft. "They better not touch you, baby."

You smile, tilting your head. "What, you gonna rip their heart out for me?"

Ronin chuckles, low and indulgent. "Only if ya let me."

The first time the stalker crosses the line, it’s almost funny. Almost.

You find the package outside your door one night—a plain cardboard box, taped neatly shut. For a second, you think it’s something you ordered. But there’s no address. No label.

Inside is a photograph.

It’s you.

You, sitting at your favorite café last week—head down, lost in thought, writing notes for your next novel. Taken through a window, your face blurred slightly by the glass. Beneath the photo, there’s a single line of text.

"You’re even prettier in person."

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, tossing it on the counter.

Ronin doesn’t find it funny.

"You didn’t tell me they were that close," he says when you send him a picture.

"It’s fine," you reply. "They’re harmless. Just desperate."

"Yeah? Let’s see how harmless they are when I wrap my hands ‘round their throat."

His protectiveness is hot—obviously—but you don’t want to wind him up too much. This isn’t his mess to clean. Not yet.

Besides. You can handle yourself.

The next time, they get bolder.

A text pings your phone at 2:47 AM. No number. No name.

I saw you tonight.

You glance toward your window. It’s locked—has been since Ronin waltzed into your life and made paranoia a love language. Still, your skin prickles.

"Still harmless, darling?" Ronin asks the next morning.

You know what he wants—to unleash that wicked temper, to make a statement in blood. It’s sweet, in its own fucked-up way. But you tell him the same thing as always.

"I’ve got it under control."

He hums. Doesn’t argue. But there’s something sharper in his silence.

It escalates three days later.

You’re walking home from a late-night grocery run—plastic bags heavy with cup noodles and the cheap, trashy snacks you practically live on. The city hums around you, neon lights flickering in and out of focus.

And then you feel it.

That creeping sensation of eyes on your back.

You don’t panic. Panic is for people who haven’t kissed a serial killer and walked away grinning. You duck into a side street instead, cutting through a back alley to lose them.

Footsteps follow.

A thrill rolls through your stomach—part fear, part excitement. If this idiot thinks you’re an easy target, they’ve got another thing coming.

"Y’know," you say casually, turning on your heel, "if you wanted an autograph, you could’ve just—"

They lunge.

Wrong move.

Your elbow slams into their ribs before they can touch you. The plastic bags hit the ground, scattering instant ramen everywhere. You twist, slamming your knee into their gut next—hard enough to make them stumble.

The guy isn’t much—skinny, twitchy, desperate. He gasps, scrambling back as you advance, heart hammering with adrenaline.

"You’ve been watching me for weeks," you murmur, stepping closer. "Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?"

He doesn’t answer. Just wheezes.

Pity. You were hoping for more of a fight.

Ronin shows up at your apartment less than an hour later, eyes bright with anticipation.

"Where’s my new friend?" he drawls, cracking his knuckles.

You tilt your head toward the bathroom. "Tied up. Not much fun, though."

His grin sharpens. "Fuckin’ knew ya had it in ya, baby."

When he sees the guy—slumped against your shower wall, wrists bound tight—Ronin practically purrs. He crouches low, brushing a blood-specked thumb across the stalker’s cheek, and laughs.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, eyes flicking to you. "Ya really are somethin’ else."

"You’re disappointed I didn’t let you have him first," you tease.

Ronin leans back on his heels, gaze lingering on your face like you’re his favorite kind of crime scene. "Ain’t disappointed. Proud of ya."

It’s the truth—you can feel it in the heat of his stare, the way his smile curves sharper. He’s proud. Because you didn’t need him to save you. Because you’re just as much a monster as he is.

And God, if that doesn’t make him love you more.

By the time Ronin’s finished with the guy, there isn’t much left. Nothing that’ll be missed.

"Y’know," he muses later, lounging on your bed with his bloodied hands behind his head, "if anyone else so much as looks at ya funny, I’m takin’ their eyes as a souvenir."

You roll your eyes, crawling onto the mattress beside him. "Possessive much?"

His smile widens—feral and unrepentant. "Always. Ya like it, don’t lie."

And maybe you do.

Because the devil doesn’t share.

And neither do you.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

break up with your boyfriend

Yandere trans!fem cheerleader x fem reader

It was so shittily made but I need to pump out more fics or else my blog will die. Thank you all for 1k followers though! I'll rewrite this in the future maybe

Tw: mentions of blackmailing, nsfw, slight breeding kink, batshit crazy girlfriend,not proofread, another oc mentioned!?🌺

💄Eva saccharine has been your girlfriend since she first started transitioning. You helped her style her hair, do her nails, pick her clothes, find good makeup, anything she needed to feel like the real her. So when freshman year rolled in, it came as no surprise to you she fit right in with the clique.

💐Ofcourse you had your fears she'd choose them over you but that wasn't the case, because she'd make you eat lunch with them and sit on her lap, not so subtly humping your ass while talking all about cheer practice

🛍️boys wanted to date her, girls wanted to be her. She just wanted you, to just be the two baddest bitches on the block. It didn't matter if you were just like her or the complete opposite, she gushed over you. Praising you for being her good girl, her sweet little princess, her obedient pocket pussy-

💄but at this current moment? She was busy bullying your insides, forcing her fat cock into your slippery hole as she held you steady by your waist. Biting and groaning everytime she'd feel you squeeze that certain spot on her dick

"fu-uuckkk.. baby cakes, 'yer squeezin' me so goood.. ah.. hah.. you wouldn't mind if I pumped a few babes into your tight cunny right? Wanna be my baby mama?"

💐that made you squeeze tighter, holding onto the bedsheets for dear life. She had you face down, ass up and damn near breaking your back with how hard she was going. Hearing the normally composed and playful eva turn into a drooling pussy-drunk mess had you feeling butterflies, just going plap play plap-

🛍️let's just say, by the end of it, you couldn't walk for days afterwards. But no amount of hickies and perfume would be able to scare away a rather persistent guy. He was on the football team, star quarterback, rich asshole. sam white. Eva hated his guts, he thinks he can just waltz in and steal her bitch? Not on her watch.

💄this little feud had been going on for a while, and more times than you could count you've been caught in the crossfire. Though it was kinda funny, seeing them screeching insults at eachother and bickering. Eva would sassily flick her blonde hair and grab you by the collar of your neck, Dragging you away while Sam hooted and hollered at your retreating form

💐you never questioned her morbid fascination with anything horror or paranormal related. She was just obsessed with regular girl things. wanting you to help her summon a demon once, but you aren't that stupid, making blood pacts with them could result in very unsavory ending's and you quite cherished your soul and body

🛍️Eva has more than one account on different social medias, pretending to be multiple different people and Stalking your posts. She'd slide into your dms and flirt, seeing if you'd really cheat on her. She's so happy when you instantly block the account, guess you'll survive not being sent to her basement for another week

💄she has the audacity to grab a frilly pink pen and make you wear clothes that purposely shows off what she wrote. In bright bold lettering, Eva's little cum dump ♡ . Maybe she'll let you bring a jacket, only if you beg her really hard with those big doe eyes she loves. She put a collar and leash on you too

💐don't try breaking up with her, she takes 'they go low, I go lower" to another level. Threatening to post pictures of you in rather compromising positions. When did she record all of this? Who knows. She won't refrain from spreading nasty rumors of you that just force you to come sobbing into her arms, if you try and get comfort from somebody else she won't hesitate to eliminate them. Don't you see? She's the final girl, and you're her love Interest

"I told you not to run pretty baby.. now look what you've done. I gotta fix your mess up~.."

moral of the story: be a loyal loving girlfriend and she'll spoil you rotten with her daddy's black card ♥️

[demie90s]

She Never Touched You

Paige Bueckers x You

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: She looked at you like you were hers. Spoke to you like she’d been waiting. Touched you like no one else ever could. But hey…

Word Count~ 0.8k

Genre: Obsession. Possession. Control. (Not everything is what it seems.

Warnings: Delusion, fixation, false memory, psychological unraveling.

She always says my name like she owns it.

Soft around the edges, slow at the end. Like she’s tasting it before she lets it go. And every time she says it, I feel like I’ve been chosen. Picked out of a lineup and kept like something rare.

“You okay?” she asks like she already knows I’m not. “You blinkin’ hard as hell.”

“I’m fine,” I lie, because the truth is stupid. The truth is: I’ve been staring at her. Again.

Paige smirks like she caught me mid-thought. She stretches her arms out behind her, leans back on the couch like she’s at home in my space, like it’s hers now, and maybe it is. She’s wearing my hoodie—stolen, never returned, sleeves rolled up over toned forearms like she owns the whole damn room. One leg tucked under the other, socks mismatched, braid draped over her shoulder.

She looks like she just rolled out of bed and still somehow manages to look better than anyone should. She’s not even trying. She never has to.

“Seriously, though,” she says, raising an eyebrow, “you got a staring problem or you just in love?”

“I’m not in love,” I say way too fast.

“Mhm.” She taps her foot against mine. “Liar.”

I roll my eyes. She kicks me again—playful, light, persistent. Then leans forward, body shifting closer until her knee brushes mine. When she looks at me like this—head tilted, smirk soft—it feels like the floor underneath me gives just a little.

“I think you’re obsessed,” she says.

“I’m not.”

She smiles. “You are.”

Then she climbs into my lap like it’s her seat, arms draped over my shoulders, voice near my ear. I can smell her shampoo—coconut and lavender. Feel the weight of her legs over mine. Her hands rest on my chest like they belong there.

“You let me do this every time,” she says.

“Do what?”

“Be close to you. Touch you like this. Say shit you don’t stop.”

I try to say something back, but her hand comes up and cups my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. Her gaze doesn’t leave mine. Not for a second. It’s unblinking. Intent.

“You’re not gonna stop me now,” she says, voice so low it hums through my ribs. “Are you?” I shake my head. Barely. She kisses me.

It’s not the kind of kiss that’s rushed or messy or impatient.It’s quiet. Focused. Like she’s holding something in. Like she’s making sure I feel it exactly how she wants me to.

Her lips are soft, and her hands move slow. She kisses me like she’s scared I’ll forget. Like she’s imprinting herself into my mouth. Into my skin.

“I should ruin you,” she whispers against my cheek.

“You already did,” I breathe, and I don’t even mean to say it out loud.

She just laughs, real quiet. Not surprised.

Later, she tries to do my hair.

Paige sits behind me on the floor, legs around my waist, fingers tugging through my curls like she knows what she’s doing. She doesn’t. She keeps twisting pieces, then giving up, then starting over. But she’s focused, tongue poking the corner of her mouth, brows furrowed in concentration like this is a real assignment.

“You’re so bad at this,” I say.

She hums. “Don’t care. I’m being romantic.”

“Romantic would be not pulling my hair out.”

“Nah, romantic is letting me try.”

She leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of my neck. Then another. Then one behind my ear that lingers too long. Her hands stay tangled in my hair while her lips move slow.

I let her. I always do.

She sings in the car like she’s the only one who exists.

It’s bad. Like really bad. Off-key. Loud. Overcommitted to the runs. And I should be annoyed—but I’m not. She’s laughing. Rapping a Doja verse with confidence she didn’t earn. Sunglasses too big on her face, hand on the wheel, leg bouncing to the beat.

“Tell me I’m good,” she says through a smirk.

“You’re loud.”

“Loud and sexy. You’re welcome.”

I shake my head, but I’m smiling. She knows I’m smiling. At the red light, she leans over and kisses my cheek.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says.

“Like what?”

“Like you love me or something.”

I look down. Her hand finds mine on the center console. Fingers lace through mine like it’s muscle memory. She squeezes, then says it:

“I love you.”

I don’t question it. Because of course she does. Because how could she not?

Later, when she holds me—on the couch, in her car, outside the gym in the backseat with the windows fogged—I let myself believe this is what it means to be wanted.

Really wanted.

Her arms around me are tight. Strong. She kisses the top of my head. Tells me I smell good. Calls me baby without thinking. Reaches for me in silence like I’m the habit she couldn’t shake if she tried.

“You’re all I want,” she says, and she means it.

But. She told me she didn’t want people knowing.

“It’s not like I’m ashamed,” she said, looking down, hands in the sleeves of her hoodie. “It’s just… I like having something that’s mine. Just mine.”

I nodded, even though I didn’t totally get it.

The first time she kissed me in public, it was in the parking lot behind the gym. No cameras. No teammates. Just the sound of her car cooling and her thumb against my jaw.

She kissed me like she was starving. Like she’d been waiting the whole day for this exact three minutes and couldn’t take another second.

When she pulled away, she smiled.

“You make me crazy,” she said, and I felt it. All of it. Every word.

Being with her was like playing a game no one else knew the rules to. We weren’t hiding. Not really. But we weren’t saying it either.

She’d whisper things under her breath in the back row during team meetings. Steal fries off my plate and kiss the corner of my mouth when no one was looking.

She kept my hoodie in her bag. My lotion in her car. My voice in her ears on bad nights when she couldn’t sleep.

I kept her in every version of my future and never told a soul. She liked it like that. Just us. Just ours. Sometimes she’d pull me into her lap and hum songs against my shoulder.

Sometimes she’d make fun of my playlist and then add every single song to hers. Sometimes we’d sit on the kitchen floor with the lights off, just breathing.

And sometimes…she wouldn’t talk at all.

The first time we really fought, it was because I asked if she loved me when she was mad. Stupid, I know.

She was already tense—season stress, media shit, exhaustion—and I asked her something soft like it would help.

She looked at me too long.

“Why would you ask me that right now?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

She shook her head. “You don’t trust me?”

“I do.”

“Clearly not.”

I tried to pull her hand into mine but she stepped back.

“You don’t get to question that,” she said, voice tight. “Not after everything I’ve done to keep us.”

“I’m not questioning us—”

“Yes, you are.”

She wasn’t yelling. She never yelled. She just… stood there. Hurt. Quiet. Angry in that cold, still way that makes you feel like you’re not real.

“You think I don’t love you?” she whispered. “You think I’m just doing this for fun?”

I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing. And that was worse.

She turned away. Grabbed her jacket. The keys on the counter.

“You don’t get it,” she said softly. “You never really did.”

“Paige.”

She didn’t turn around. Just one more breath.

We don’t talk after that night. Not really.

There’s no loud ending. No slammed doors. No screaming in driveways. She just stops showing up in the ways that matter. Stops laughing at my jokes. Stops reaching for me when I’m near. And I don’t fight it. I don’t ask her to stay.

I think I wanted her to love me hard enough to stay on her own. And she didn’t.

It starts small. She replies late. Doesn’t call back. Says she’s tired a lot. Says she’s “just dealing with stuff.” I try to give her space without making her feel the gap. I don’t want her to think I’m suffocating her. But all that space? She fills it without me.

I stop bringing her up in conversation. People ask, and I just shrug. We’re fine. She’s just busy. She’s just tired. We’re fine. I say it until I almost believe it.

And then one day, she’s tagged in a post. Some blurry photo of her at a restaurant. Not the team. Not the coaches. Just her—and a girl I don’t recognize.

The girl’s hand is in hers.

That’s it. No soft goodbye. No closure. Just a photo on my feed and the weight in my stomach that tells me I knew this was coming. I knew.

She moves on.

And not in a cruel way. Not in a “look what you lost” kind of way. She just… does. Quietly. Completely.

I stop listening to the songs she liked. I stop walking past her building. I stop keeping her name in my drafts.

But she still shows up.

In the back of my throat when I’m trying not to cry.

In the mirror when I catch myself wearing the hoodie she left in my room. In the silence between texts that feel too dry to care about anymore.

She still exists in all the places I don’t talk about.

And I think that’s what hurts the most. She didn’t leave me angry. She didn’t leave me broken.

She just left. And she never came back.

But you’re still here. And that’s the problem.

Because nothing after this point is for you. This is where it changes. This is where you were supposed to leave.

She never came back. Because she was never yours. She was never even here. But you are. And now I can’t stop thinking about that. You’ve been imagining her longer than I have.

You read all those other stories and still came here.

She’s out there breathing. You’re here rotting.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264

[writersdrug]

The Good Friend

Chapter 1. A New Hobby

Summary: Johnny regularly checks up on Ghost after he sustained a bullet to the hip on their most recent deployment. It's already too late for him to escape, once he sees what's kept his beloved lieutenant so occupied over the past few days.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, kidnapping, implied violence, restraining, psychotic behavior, blood, forced to help in kidnapping, obsessive behavior. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS. By clicking "Keep Reading" you are consenting to be responsible for the media you consume.

A/N: The people have spoken

Simon on medical leave: a disaster and a headache for the rest of the 141.

There's a daily text along the lines of "Let me know when we get shipped out next." It never mattered how many times Price responded with "You're not joining us for a while. Find a hobby, Simon." He was persistent in coming back to work as soon as possible - shattered hip be damned.

Price had given Soap the job of checking up on the poor brute. "Maybe he misses the usual company." He'd say. "Go see 'im, check in with the muppet."

Soap was a good friend, but there was only so much grumbling he could stomach from Simon. Those "check-ins" would turn into a pity party, with Simon saying "I should be out there, helpin' you lot. Only wastin' away in 'ere. Losin' my head." And it was true - every time Johnny visited, there was an open can of beer on the coffee table, or a glass of whiskey in his hand. The bottle of prescription, opioid pain killers on the kitchen table. Some ill-advised coping mechanism within arm's reach.

It hurt Johnny to see it, it really did. He cared about Simon, missed him, would do anything to get his beloved L.T. back on the team. But he knew the man needed rest and recovery, despite how much it was sending Simon into a spiral. Johnny offered to help clean up his place, but Simon angrily denied the offer. "Don't need a bloody caretaker." He spat.

Just tryin' to be a good friend, Soap wanted to say, but instead he answered with a slam of Simon's front door and a hushed "feckin' bastard."

Johnny was tired of it. When the fuck was this medical leave supposed to end? Apparently, in two weeks ("thank the feckin' lord") -

But, Soap soon discovered, Simon had requested more time off.

Price stated he'd said something about "still not feeling right", which immediately had Soap confused. That old bawbag would've been back in the game the second the bullet was out of his hip, if it wasn't for regulations. It festered in the back of his mind all day: why would Simon do that? What could possibly hold his attention more than the task force? More than Johnny?

There was only one way to find out.

Soap stands in front of Simon's door, knocking loudly against the dark wood. An unexpected visit, which Simon might be frustrated by - but Soap is dying to see what's got his lieutenant so preoccupied. Hopefully, he hasn't fallen into a pit of depression, choosing to drink himself to death, rather than come back to the team.

However, after just a few moments of standing on his porch, Simon answers it rather quickly. And he looks happy. Delighted, even.

"'Bout time, Johnny." Simon says, stepping aside to let him in. "Was wondering if you got lost."

"Was wonderin' if you'd gone crazy." Soap banters back, kicking the door shut behind him. "Cap said ye want more time?"

Simon chuckled quietly, locking the deadbolt behind Soap. He shoves his hands - gloved hands - into his sweatshirt pocket. "Took his advice. Found a hobby."

"Lemme guess: knittin' me a Christmas sweater?"

"You fuckin' wish."

It's good. It makes Soap sigh with relief (internally), seeing Simon in such good spirits. He tosses the pack of blems onto the coffee table and follows Simon into the kitchen. The smell of rubbing alcohol hits him before he sees the counter; bandages, gauze, bloody gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and an open suture kit.

He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, his teeth bared in a wince. "Shite, Ghost- ye reopen tha' bullet wound?" he says, lifting up one of the bloodied pieces of gauze.

"Hm?" Simon turns to face him, then looks at what he's holding. "Oh- nah, I'm fine. Luvie here bumped her head."

Johnny looks up, confused, following Simon's back with his eyes as he makes his way into the dining room - his mind goes blank when he sees the poor, bloodied thing, tied to one of the chairs.

You're staring back at him, hair messed and blood dried against a nasty gash on your forehead. Fabric is stuffed into your mouth, with a strip of duct tape securing it around your head. Your eyes light up with hope as they take Johnny in; you're heaving, poor thing, breaths more like whines as you fight through the delirium of your concussion. Your right ankle is swollen and a nasty shade of purple. Blood all over the chair, your thighs, and now, Johnny finally notices, Simon's hands.

"Dinged 'erself pretty good on my bookcase." Simon says, too calmly, his broad frame standing behind the chair you're strapped into. "Slippery lil' thing, she is."

Simon rips the duct tape off - your voice immediately fills the room, echoing inside Soap's head with your begging and pleading, please please please get me out of here, please help me, he kidnapped me, he's a monster, please-

Johnny has to look away - there's too much noise, too much going on - his eyes trail down the dark hall and into Simon's bedroom. The bookshelf is toppled over, volumes strewn about the floor, a lamp shattered on the ground and casting an eerie angle of light through the room. He hears the sound of his own blood pumping, his chest and throat feel tight, mind racing a million miles a second. Did his LT do this? His Simon?

"Johnny."

He turns back to you. The duct tape is back in place, and now you're weakly thrashing about as much as you can - which really isn't much. Ghost is staring at Soap, one of his hands wrapped around your shoulder, knuckles white with how hard he's gripping you; which is most likely what's making you cry so much.

"Need ya to help stitch 'er up." Simon says, his eyes cold. It's an order. "'Fore she bleeds out on us."

Johnny feels like he's going to vomit. He needs to stop thinking, to stop shaking, and do something. His lieutenant's kidnapped a bloody civilian, for Christ's sake. Why? And what the fuck did he do to her?

"Won't let me touch 'er. Hard to stitch the wound when she's throwin' a fit - damn near stabbed 'er in the eye. I'll hold 'er while you do th' job."

Johnny finally inhales after holding his breath for so long. He stumbles backwards into the kitchen, remembering where the front door is, thinking he should have been in his car and on the phone with the police by now. If he does, though, Simon will be gone forever. Locked up in prison, far away from Soap. How can he save this? How can he save you, and him? "Simon, ye- ye can't be serious, mate-"

"If you walk out tha' fuckin' door I'll kill 'er before you reach it."

That ruffles your feathers. You're whimpering again, screaming against the gag - at him? At Ghost? He freezes where he stands, trying to remember his training. Act first, think later. Do what keeps the most people alive in the moment. That's what Simon had taught him. The same man who was threatening to kill you, ironically, based on what Soap decided to do.

"Get the sutures off the counter." Simon ordered, apparently sensing Soap's inner turmoil. He knows Johnny wouldn't leave you there, not after the threat.

He couldn't.

Soap exhaled heavily through his teeth, forcing his muscles to move. He snatched the suture kit off the counter and stormed back into the living room. He heard Ghost hum in approval as he slapped it down on the table.

"You do it." he said, his voice low and full with grit. "Ye stitch 'er up, I'll help ye take her to the hospital. We come back n' clean up-"

"Shut the fuck up-" Simon growled out to Soap, gripping your chin in his large hand and yanking your head back against his abdomen. "Get to work. Don't let 'er die on me, now."

Die. Die. You had a concussion and a headwound, but you weren't dying - still, he knew that wasn't what Ghost meant. If Soap didn't help, you would die, one way or another. He had to think of this differently, for the time being. He was helping you. He'd take this little by little - first, patch you up. Figure out what the fuck to do with you later; also, how to keep this from ruining Simon's career, because he couldn't leave the task force. Soap wouldn't let that happen.

So, he took the needle and sutures in his hand, and knelt on the floor, between your restrained legs. Ignored the way you screamed and thrashed, only held still by Ghost's meaty paws. Didn't focus on Ghost's satisfied grin. He was doing this to save your life, you'd understand that later. He was doing this to save Simon's career.

Like a good friend.

Next ->

Taglist: @a-sadmilky

Ghost photo credit to @chatskaja

[the5thorgy]

Bakugou x reader and it's just a reader who is really expressive with liking him? Little treats here and there, writing him notes, always being around him, etc. obviously he gets mad at some point and tells her to leave him alone but he winds up missing her? Idk it's just smth quick I came up with since y'all asked for requests. This also could be done with Gojo maybe 🧐

TOO MUCH..

CW: angst w comfort & bkg is a bitch

A/N: ty for sending in a request ily 🥹

You sat on the bench outside of the UA training field, your eyes scanning the horizon, waiting for him. Bakugou Katsuki, the student you were way too invested in. He was loud, brash, and always pushing people away, but you couldn’t help it—he was like a magnet, drawing you in with his strength, his passion, his unyielding attitude.

And, okay, maybe you were a little obsessed. But it wasn’t like you’d ever admit it. Well, at least, not in a way that didn’t involve writing him notes and leaving little treats in his locker. It was your way of showing him that you cared, even if he made remarks every day that he didn’t want to be treated ‘like a baby’.

Today, you had something special—just a little snack for Bakugou. His favorite, as you’d learned after a year of paying attention to the little details.

You heard his voice before you saw him. “Oi, you! What the hell are you doing here?”

You jumped to your feet, practically glowing with excitement. “Katsuki! I made you some snacks! It’s just a little something, you know, for your training,” you said, handing him the neatly wrapped bundle.

He eyed it suspiciously, his expression tight. “What, you think I need you to pamper me now? I’m fine.”

Your smile faltered a bit, but you shrugged. “It’s just a snack. I thought you’d like it. I know you’re always busy and don’t have time to grab something to eat.” Your eyes avoided his.

His crimson eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you swore you saw a flicker of something softer in them. But it was gone just as quickly. “Tch. Whatever.” He snatched the package from your hands, though, his eyes still burning with annoyance. “Stop acting like some damn food will make me like you more..”

“Bakugou, I—”

“Just leave me the hell alone!” he snapped, his voice rising. “Stop following me around and acting all sweet, okay? I don’t need it!”

You froze, his words like a slap to the face. You had grown used to his outbursts, but this time, it hurt a little more. You stared at him, blinking as your mind scrambled to process everything he said.

“Fine,” you whispered, your heart sinking in your chest. “I’ll leave you alone.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Bakugou standing there, clutching the snack you’d made for him, feeling a strange weight in his chest.

Days passed, and Bakugou didn’t realize just how much he missed you until he saw your empty seat in class. You haven't been around much lately. You didn’t sneak little snacks into his locker, no notes with little doodles of “Good luck!” or “I believe in you!” You didn’t hover around him like you used to. And it left him feeling... off.

He attempted to tone out the sound of Kirishima asking about you, but he was persistent. “Hey, Bakugou, have you seen Y/N lately? She hasn’t been around much. You know, I think she’s been worried about you.”

Bakugou scowled, the words rattling around in his head. “What the hell are you talking about? Who cares?”

But even as he said it, he could feel a knot in his stomach. It wasn’t like he missed her or anything. Not really. She was just... always there. He didn’t want to admit that he’d gotten used to her presence.

When he saw you again, it was in the hallway, your head down as you walked past him, seemingly lost in thought. You didn’t even look up when you crossed his path. The usual spark of recognition, the little flash of joy that came from just being near him, was gone.

"Oi!" Bakugou barked, and you froze, your hand halfway to the door of your classroom. "Why the hell aren’t you talking to me anymore? I told you to leave me alone, but that doesn’t mean you can just disappear."

You turned, your eyes wide with surprise. “I—I thought you wanted me to leave you alone..?”

He gritted his teeth, frustration building in his chest. “You think I wanted that? I didn’t ask for you to act like some damn ghost! You’ve been gone for days, YN. What the hell is going on?”

You blinked in confusion, stepping closer but still not fully understanding what was happening. “But... you said—”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean it! At least, not like that.” he made a desperate attempt to explain, his voice softer this time, tinged with an unexpected urgency. “You’re always around, and I hate it. But... hell, I miss you being there. I don’t know why. I just—” He stopped, his face turning redder than usual, and he looked away, grumbling. “Just... don’t disappear again, okay? I’m.. sorry.”

A slow smile tugged at your lips, the same smile you always wore when he frustrated you. “I can’t promise I won’t be around. I’m just too... much, I guess,” you teased.

“Damn right you are,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something warmer than the usual anger. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You stepped forward, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, then placed your hand on his shoulder. “I won’t. I promise.”

Bakugou stared at you, his heart racing, unsure of what to say. You spoke instead,

“But seriously, don’t ever pull this shit again or I might just kill you.”

He chuckled, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as annoyed with you as he let on.

From then on, the little notes and treats kept coming. And despite all the grumbling, the scowls, and the sarcastic remarks, Bakugou found himself growing more comfortable with your presence. He’d never admit it, but he was starting to look forward to seeing you, even if he was too stubborn to let you know.

After all, even Bakugou couldn’t stay mad at someone who cared enough to stick around.

all rights reserved © the5thorgy. do not copy, translate, or steal any of the works you find on this blog! ฅ ฅ

[alwayscozyy]

You know what’s bothered me? People viewing our president as some sort of celebrity. Especially someone that says they are a “fan” of a presidential candidate, just doesn’t sit right with me. These are real people governing our country, not a fucking magical being or a movie star. Politics nowadays is damn reality tv. This country is as mature as a high school, and the popular kids are fighting for control. I’m not religious much but this is what god means by “false idols”. Also, the fact I’ve seen people bet on the election or talk about it like it’s some sort of sporting event is quite outrageous and unsettling. This isn’t entertainment, this is supposed to be a commitment to democracy and creating equality and fairness in our country. It’s about making the proper changes to help better mankind and American lives. I think we need to start somewhere new. Our lives don’t change with a presidential election, change occurs within ourselves. It’s our mindsets that are hurting us. For the next four years we live with a decision, and after that, the same thing. That’s how shit works, and not everything goes your way sometimes, but that’s how life happened to turn out. It’s hard for me to trust anybody that worships a “presidential candidate” or obsesses over the idea of the election. All we can do is control what we do and how we act. We can’t better the world until we better the people that are capable of changing the world. Change is necessary, without it, we wouldn’t adapt, survival wouldn’t be possible, and evil would persist. Fuck trump and fuck Kamala. I never chose them as my candidates. Who said anybody is worthy of such a position of power anyways? But if you really are into politics and support someone, I get it, you’re doing all that you can do by voting for what you believe in. And I commend you for choosing that decision. Just remember there are more important things to consider than to obsess about your favorite “candidate” on your free time. And for the love of god, stop dividing this country.

[blairxbear]

How they handle jealousy and would react to someone flirting with you...

UA Part 1 / UA Part 2 / Pro Heroes / Villains

How would these villains handle jealousy and deal with someone flirting with you?

Featuring: Tomura Shigaraki, Dabi/Toya Todoroki, Shuichi Iguchi/Spinner, Kai Chisake/Overhaul, Jin Bubaigawara/Twice, Atsuhiro Sako/Mr. Compress, Young All For One

Tomura Shigaraki

Jealousy Level: 10/10 – Unstable and territorial.

The moment he notices someone flirting with you, his eye twitches, and his fingers start twitching—restless, itching to decay something.

He doesn’t say anything at first—just stares intensely, expression dark.

The flirter has no idea they’re seconds away from death.

If they keep pushing, his voice comes out low, menacing:

“Are you stupid, or do you just have a death wish?”

He doesn’t need to threaten them outright—his presence alone is terrifying.

Later, he pulls you into his lap, gripping your waist tightly:

“You’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

Toya Todoroki (Dabi)

Jealousy Level: 9/10 – Sarcastic but simmering with rage.

He acts casual, but the second someone flirts with you, his flames burn a little hotter.

He doesn’t interrupt right away—he just watches, a slow smirk forming.

Then, he suddenly slides an arm around your waist, tugging you close:

“Damn, that’s cute. You really thought you had a chance?”

If the flirter doesn’t take the hint, his smirk drops, and his voice turns dangerous:

“You should walk away before I make you.”

Later, he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him:

“Tell me, doll… you like getting me riled up, don’t you?”

Spinner

Jealousy Level: 6/10 – Protective but not aggressive.

Spinner isn’t the violent, possessive type, but he definitely doesn’t like someone eyeing what’s his.

He gets fidgety, glancing between you and the flirter, his foot tapping anxiously.

He steps closer, shoulders squared, making it clear who you belong to.

If the flirter keeps going, he finally speaks:

“You should probably walk away.” (His voice is low and steady, almost a growl.)

Later, he mumbles against your skin, embarrassed:

“Sorry… I just don’t like when people look at you like that.”

Kai Chisaki (Overhaul)

Jealousy Level: 10/10 – Possessive, obsessive, and absolutely terrifying.

The moment someone flirts with you, his entire body tenses.

He immediately pulls you behind him, staring the flirter down like they’re a germ that needs to be eradicated.

His voice is cold, measured, and laced with quiet rage:

“I suggest you take a step back before I remove you from existence.”

If they dare to touch you, he removes his gloves—because that’s the last thing they’ll ever do.

Later, he cups your chin, inspecting you like his most prized possession:

“You belong to me. I won’t tolerate anyone trying to take you.”

Jin Bubaigawara (Twice)

Jealousy Level: 8/10 – Chaotic but emotional.

His brain immediately splits into two arguments the second he sees someone flirting with you.

“They don’t mean anything by it!”

“THEY’RE TRYING TO STEAL THEM FROM YOU, MORON!”

He grabs your arm, dragging you away while muttering:

“Mine. Mine. Mine. I don’t share.”

If the flirter persists, he suddenly snaps, shouting:

“BACK OFF BEFORE I DO SOMETHING STUPID!”

Later, he buries his face in your shoulder, mumbling:

“Sorry, just… don’t ever leave me, okay?”

Atsuhiro Sako (Mr. Compress)

Jealousy Level: 7/10 – Smooth but subtly intimidating.

He doesn’t make a scene—instead, he steps up beside you, placing a gloved hand on your lower back, smiling pleasantly.

He lets the flirter embarrass themselves, watching with calm amusement.

But the moment they cross the line, his voice turns dangerously smooth:

“Apologies, but I believe you’re mistaken—Y/N is quite taken.”

If they ignore him, he simply says:

“Perhaps I should make you disappear.” (They back off immediately.)

Later, he tilts your chin up, his fingers brushing your lips:

“Do I need to put on a better show to keep your attention, my love?”

Young All For One

Jealousy Level: 10/10 – Absolute dominance.

The moment someone flirts with you, he smirks, utterly amused by their foolishness.

He watches you for a moment—waiting to see if you’ll handle it.

If you politely decline, he lets it go.

If the flirter pushes, he simply steps in, his presence overpowering:

“Ah, how bold… to flirt with something that belongs to me.”

He doesn’t need to raise his voice—just his aura alone makes the flirter shrink away.

Later, he pulls you onto his lap, his fingers tracing your pulse:

“Shall I remind you who you belong to?”

Ko-fi / Masterlist

blairxbear © 2024. do not copy, modify, or translate my work. you do not have permission to share my work outside of tumblr!

[moriitis]

How freaky do you think Toby is?

Like, do you think he is into public sex or getting caught being intimate with his partner? Or does he enjoy being intimate with his partner alone?

-🫐🔮 Anon

How freaky is Toby?

Content/Warnings; sex, mentions of public sex, mentions of porn, masturbation, being sexually frustrated, mentions of murder.

Toby 100% at first is a virgin. Like, this man would not have gotten any action before he murdered his father and it's not like he got much action after. (I know him and Clockwork did stuff together and he probably lost his virginity to her.) But even after that, he's still insecure and awkward as fuck! I wouldn't be surprised if a part of him just assumed every woman was the same and there was just some kind of magic button he could flip that would make them orgasm. I don't really think he knows much about himself either? Like, I don't think he's ever sat down and really considered what turns him on or what makes him horny? Like, his dick will just get hard and he'll rub one out to deal with the issue if needed.

And fuck the whole debate of, 'is Toby an ass or titties kind of guy?!' because we all damn well know that this man is both. I don't wanna say this man is horny all the time - but in the end of a day, he's a dude and he's gonna get a lot of random boners that make no fucking sense. And no, he's not gonna suddenly get turned on or aroused if a woman is nice toward him, just more things like if he were to accidentally brush a hand against your waist or you put a hand on his knee. I feel like physical touch is more boner inducing than 'omg she smiled at me, omg shoulders, etc.' LIke, he's down bad but not down, down bad. He's just awkward and despite the little experience he has, he's sailing a ship blind essentially.

Lowkey feel like he has a lot of unrealistic expectations when it comes to sex too. I don't wanna say he lives off porn, but I see him using Pornhub or Twitter occasionally to help him jack off (even his imagination at times when needed but that's hard because he usually ends up thinking of weird shit that turns him off.)

Toby got energy too, depending on the situation and stuff. He will cum within seconds, I'm gonna put that out there but he can continue going until you're satisfied.

Onto the question though, is Toby a freak? I think his freak level will depend on his partner. I'll be honest at times Toby can be a little sex obsessed, he mostly uses pleasure in an attempt to feel something and forget about his problems (but post nut clarity will hit him HARD.) I feel like his sex drive will try to match his partners. You don't want to have sex for months on end? He's fine with that, sure he'll try to initiate something or attempt to turn you on but if you brush him off or say no, he won't persist. He's not one of those asshole guys where sex is expected, if you're not up for it - that's fine! But he'll jack off later to help relieve himself if he's really sexually frustrated. (And yes, since you guys started dating he dropped Pornhub.) Same thing for the other way round, if you wanna have sex everyday, shit, he'll try and keep up!

On the topic of public sex, I'm gonna say no. I think the idea interests him enough but he's not going to pull anything risky. Slender trusts him with going out ito civilisation, he's a wanted criminal and the last thing he wants to get caught for is fucking public indecency. Not only that, but if Slender did find out? If either of you got caught? If he got caught and you got away? I don't know, I don't think he could live with himself and nor does he trust Slender enough to not punish you too. Now, Toby is a notorious rulebreaker though, I think between the other three, Kate, Tim and Brian, Toby is the one that breaks the rules the most. But that would explain why is memory is so fucked up. Plus, he's someone's man now, idk the idea of being in a relationship matures him a little.

If you tried to initiate something in public, he'd probably maybe sternly tell you off a little.

"No, no, n-nnow isn't the time. Let's do this l-la-later, yeah? Be good for me, huh?"

"I'll make you feel good, j-just me n you. Come one."

Like sure he'll get hard at the idea of you being so sexual and the risk of it all, but Toby isn't that fucking stupid. I think the worst part for him would be how tempting it would be, so he'd struggle internally for awhile.

But he'd make it up for when you guys are alone. Considering how awkward he is, he would prefer to do these kinds of things alone. Now, would that stop him from fucking the shit out of you in his car? No! But as long as you're parked up somewhere dark, he don't care. It's not like he would be ashamed for fucking somebody as perfect as you, in fact, it's normal! God damn, what could be worse, public sex or murder?

And yes, he will fuck you with the lights off. He's just insecure, maybe at some point he'll find some confidence to allow light, but as long as he can feel you and hear you - he's satisfied. Although he does love when you ride him when he's sat in the drivers seat of his truck, he loves seeing your facial expressions so close, your hot breath on his lips.

[cinnaleaf]

In Your DMs: Left on Read - Ch 1: Never Say Never

summary: you left jude on read once—but after one reckless night, he’s making damn sure you never ignore him again 💫 | MDNI 18+

warnings: angst/tension, push/pull dynamic, alcohol consumption, party setting, language, sexual references, public argument, easter eggs from previous fics wc: ~5.9k (approx. 21 minutes) 💋: it’s only chapter 1… pray for them. song inspo: VeLDÁ x Bad Bunny ft Omar Courtz & Dei V

It had been two weeks since you hooked up with Jude in a drunken rendezvous, and while the dick was surprisingly fantastic, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to get the ick. You gave Jude your number after you left his house that afternoon in post-orgasm delusion and he’d been bombarding your phone with texts, voice messages, unscheduled facetime calls, and random tiktoks that “reminded him of you” ever since. He clearly thought your hookup was something more, which made you regret your decision to give him any attention at all. Although pretty privilege had its perks, a world class footballer being obsessed with you was not a perk you wanted to engage in – especially when it was Jude Bellingham.

You sat in the apartment you shared with Bri and Tasha, watching your other friend, Mateo, scroll through his phone while shaking his head. “Miss girl…” he drawled with an amused grin. “They have all of your tea in 4k. All of it.” Mateo handed his phone to you and you nastily glared at the screen, annoyed that you suddenly became a part of whatever the fuck this was:

SpillTheBeansUK Looks like Jude Bellingham had his eye on something other than football two weeks ago 👀. The England star was spotted leaving a Madrid club with 21 year old Y/N, an NYU Tisch film & television student from Miami who’s currently studying abroad and very much a regular in both cities’ party scenes. Her dad is none other than THE ‘Dr. Cinch’, the mastermind behind SculptHaus Miami, the go to clinic for IG baddies and A-listers looking for that perfect CINCHED look 💉 Jude’s no stranger to being deep in a girl’s likes, but he’s been extra consistent with Y/N’s lately. What’s really going on here? Because word is, she’s not exactly the type to be impressed.. especially by ballers like him. 🤨

2Fast4VAR wait she’s from miami?? bro lost before he even started. she’s built different. 😂

CertifiedMenace69 if i was jude i’d be in her dms, comments, and her email too she’s bad af

BigBootyJudeyFC he’s about to start liking those inspirational quotes on IG like “if it’s meant to be, it will be.” 💀

MissMiamiDade305 jude better watch out... does anyone remember when she had that miami promoter crying on IG live last year?? she does NOT play with these men 💀💀

gossipgorlzzz not him liking her pics and finally getting the W! stay persistent kings!!

SpillTheBeansES Si Jude cree que puede cambiarla.. le deseo suerte 🤷‍♀️ (If Jude thinks he can change her.. I wish him luck)

JudePorFavor jude’s probably in her DMs like “pls respond angel 😩” LMAO

Baddiebydesign not dr. cinch’s daughter!! she’s set for life. face card AND her dad’s the plug? i bet her friends never have to pay for fillers 😭

AnonymousInsider13 i heard she’s cool with that real madrid baloncesto guy too…santiago something. ngl that man is fine af. if she’s choosing between him and jude i see why she’s taking her sweet time 

RedBlooded1892 maybe her dad can fix jude’s shoulder that’s about to fall off the hinge 😭 cinchdollsnob her dad literally invented half the faces we double tap. a baddie with real face card genetics. life ain’t fair. ChampagnePapiButBroke jude and his big bum liking all her pics is sending me. boy was lurking HARD

ChickenNCoke cinched bellibabe is kind of an iconic alias icl

mamacitasintl lmaooo if jude’s trying to lock her down..good luck. her dad probably has a vetting process more intense than real madrid’s medicals

nosygirlieFC jude defo heard about trent bagging the perfume baddie and thought he could do the same LOL

You were annoyed by the post to an extreme amount. Whoever was the administrator of this god awful account decided to treat you like you were some Z list Love Island reject instead of a girl who got dicked down ONE time in a moment of weakness and dipped.

Bri leaned over to scan the screen and let out a cackle. “ ‘Jude Bellingham had his eye on something other than football two weeks ago!’ ” she mimicked in a dramatized voice. 

“Ew.” You scrunched your nose in disgust. 

Tasha was deep in the comments on her own phone, scrolling at lightning speed. “No but, ‘She’s not exactly the type to be impressed… especially by ballers like him’ is so shady,” she snorted, flicking her eyes to yours. “The streets know you too well.”

Mateo looked at you with a sly grin, clasping his hands together. “Sooo...how does it feel to be a Bellingham Baddie?”

You cut your eyes at him. “Don’t fucking start.”

“It’s too late.” Bri waved her phone in the air, grinning. “Your inauguration is already underway. These people are in the comments eating it up.”

“Let me see” Mateo snatched Bri’s phone from her and started reading out loud. “ ‘She’s bad as hell, I’d be in her likes too.’ ” He smirked, flipping his wrist. “Real recognizes real.”

Tasha leaned over, giggling. “Wait, this one says ‘Jude’s in his romantic era. He’s playing the long game.’ ”

“Oh hell no. Absolutely not.” You reached for the phone but Mateo dodged you with the speed of a messy gay man who lived for drama. 

“Hold on, hold on.” He scrolled further, widening his eyes before he started howling. “Ohhh girl, not this one!” he wheezed, hardly able to get his words out. “ ‘Jude’s big bum came from Dr. Cinch? Noted.’ ”

Bri and Tasha both started laughing with tears streaming down their eyes. “Not Jude having BBL allegations because they found out who your dad is!”

You ran your hands across your face, shaking your head. “I hate this app.”

Mateo was screaming along with the other two, kicking his feet out but you really didn’t find it all that funny. “No, I LOVE this app!”

After their laughter subsided, Tasha shook her head, continuing to scroll through the comments. “The way they dug up your whole life just off one club sighting is actually insane.”

“I know. They need jobs.” You groaned, leaning back against the cushions. 

Mateo tilted his head while eyeing you. “Well, since you’re the new bombshell in the Bellingham Baddie villa, you may as well tell me...how was it?”

Bri and Tasha perked up immediately, turning to face you while giggling, mainly because they already knew. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you picked up your own phone. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Mateo questioned, not fully believing you because you usually gave him the full rundown in detail, but this time you were holding back. “Just fine?! Don’t tell me he’s a minute man. It’s always the hot ones.”

Bri leaned in. “Mmm, I don’t know about that. Tasha and I called and she couldn’t even talk. That man blew her back out for sure.”

“In her words exactly.. it was ‘one hundred percent worth it’ ” Tasha added. “If the dick was bad she would’ve come home the next day and roasted his ass but she didn’t. She was quiet as a mouse.”

Mateo pointed at you accusingly, narrowing his eyes while analyzing you. “And you keep dodging the conversation which means it had to be amazing.”

You rolled your eyes, fake scrolling through your phone like you always did when you couldn’t look someone in the eye. “Well I don’t know about all of that now...he’s doing too much.”

Mateo snickered. “You gave him the best pussy of his life and dipped. Of course he’s doing too much.”

You groaned again, letting your head fall back against the couch. “Can y’all shut the fuck up?”

“Absolutely not.” Mateo fired back immediately, leaning forward to read you for filth. “I know you. If it was mid, you would’ve been dragging him for filth. You’d be in this living room doing a full dissertation on why that man is a waste of height.”

Tasha nodded, scrolling with purpose. “But instead you’re holding back.”

Bri suddenly gasped, pointing a finger at you. “Ooh, she likes him.”

That was where you drew the line. The suggestion that you, of all people, would be catching feelings for a footballer, let alone Jude Bellingham sent you straight into defense mode. It wasn’t even about him specifically, but merely the principle of the matter. You didn’t date athletes. Not seriously anyway. NEVER seriously. You learned a long time ago they were all the same: entitled, egotistical, and so used to women throwing themselves at their feet just because they could handle a ball and had a few viral highlight reels. They saw women as accessories, something to show off when it suited them and discard when it didn’t. You weren’t about to be anyone’s little off-season toy passed around in a group chat the second they got bored. That was never going to be you.

But ballers weren’t completely useless though, they had their perks. Stamina? Unmatched. Strength? Ideal. But once the adrenaline wore off and post-orgasm clarity set in, the appeal disappeared right along with it. You entertained a few before just for fun, just to see if they were worth the hype, but they all had one thing in common: they started thinking they were special. Like they had you hooked. Like they were pulling the strings.

It was funny, really. Because if anything? They were always the ones falling first. Every time.

Jude was proving to be no different. The way he sauntered up to you in the club as if he knew where the night was headed, versus the way his ego deflated the minute you left his messages on read for weeks was textbook athlete behavior. And now? He was chasing you.

Mateo tapped the edge of his phone against his palm, watching you with an expression that made it very clear he was about to ask something that would grate your nerves.

“So what’s really going on with you and Jude?” He tilted his head, brows raised in intrigue. “Like.. what is he to you?”

You didn’t even look up from your phone and scrolled as you answered, “A pronoun.”

Mateo’s mouth dropped open, delighted by your messy answer. “Be so fucking for real Y/N” he said, crossing one leg over the other. “If he’s just a pronoun to you then why did you give him your number?”

Tasha didn’t even give you a chance to answer before jumping in. “That’s actually a great fucking question. Because you knew giving him your number meant this...” she gestured to the entire situation, the group chat chaos, the SpillTheBeansUK mess, “so why did you do it?”

You sighed dramatically, tilting your head back against the couch from being exhausted by all of this nonsense. “He asked for it, so I gave it.”

Bri blinked at you. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Mateo was unconvinced. “And you just gave it to him? No hesitation? No thoughts?”

“I was in a state of post-nut delusion.” You shrugged, sipping from your water bottle to avoid any further questions.

Tasha sucked her teeth. “Mmm.” 

Bri was already side-eyeing you. “Mmhmm.” 

Mateo tapped his phone again, unimpressed. “Lying just like the mattress he put you through, I see.”

You ignored them. There was a very brief moment where you considered not giving him your number. You could’ve just taken your Uber and dipped, pretended like it never happened, and gone back to your normal, Bellingham-free existence. But Jude gave you a cocky, half lidded smirk that made you fold immediately when he asked. You figured your brain was still stuck somewhere between your legs for wanting to hear from him again, which was exactly why you were so annoyed with yourself. Not only was he blowing up your phone, but now you were on SpillTheBeansUK. You scrolled through the endless posts dissecting your one mistake, making you feel more irritated with every new comment. There were threads analyzing your every move, posts tracking Jude’s IG likes, and an entire debate about whether or not you were “Jude’s type.” 

“How do these people have so much free time? Is the unemployment rate that high?” you muttered, aggressively tapping out of Instagram. “I was in the same club as him one time, and suddenly I’m the internet’s main character of the day? I fucking hate it here.”

Bri snickered, nudging Tasha. “Not her being mad when she willingly chose to leave with him.”

You shot the nastiest glare at both of them.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Bri challenged, raising her brow.

She wasn’t wrong. You did willingly leave with him. You hated the attention and the way people were dissecting your life, but you weren’t completely mad at the way Jude was acting. Mainly because he wasn’t just moving on like it never happened and letting you fade into the background. He was still chasing you. And even if you never wanted to admit it.. you liked that.

Your phone pinged in your hand to bring you out of your thoughts, making you glance down at your notifications.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 17:43 - Did I do something?? 17:51 - Because I’m struggling to believe I had you screaming my name two weeks ago but now you’re airing me. 18:02 - Hello? 18:27 - Ok I get it. I know you don’t really do this athlete thing. 18:28 - I’m not blocked though 👀 18:42 - Let me take you out?

You rolled your eyes before switching to a different text thread.

SANTI DOMINGUEZ 🏀 🇩🇴 20:42 - Y/Nitaaa que haces esta noche? (what are you doing tonight?) 20:42 - Fiesta en La Finca at mi pana’s house for the night. Big ass infinity pool, drinks, music, todo. Pull up. 20:43 - Bring your friends too. Dime que si. (Tell me yes.)

You smiled, already typing out a response.

20:45 - A party in La Finca? Bet. 20:46 - We’re coming. You better have good drinks!

Santi hearted the message instantly.

20:47 - Siempre, preciosa. Nos vemos. (Always, gorgeous. See you soon.)

You liked Santi. He was one of the few people in Madrid who weren’t constantly on some clout chasing nonsense, which meant you actually enjoyed being around him. And even though he could be a little flirty, it wasn’t serious. 

You were just about to lock your phone when another text rolled in.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 20:48 - Your dad is a plastic surgeon??

You frowned, watching as a second message came in.

— [SpillTheBeansUK post]

Oh. He really was chronically online. 

“Ew,” you muttered from the ick of it all before typing out your own response.

20:48 - why the fuck are you sending me STB links like you’re a gossip girl admin? touch grass.

There was no immediate response but you knew he probably read it the second the notification popped up on his phone. He was probably typing, stopping, then typing again, trying to figure out how to keep you engaged without pushing too far. It was funny really, the difference between the two of them. Santi would text once, maybe twice most of the time and you would reply immediately with no hesitation. Meanwhile, Jude would send text after text, throw in tiktoks, voice messages and a Facetime call here and there, which made you want to take your sweet time responding.

You could already feel the looks your friends were giving you, but Mateo was the first to speak.

“So you answer Santiago immediately but Jude has to beg for a response?” He smirked, already piecing together what would likely go down tonight at the party. Tasha hummed in agreement and glanced over your shoulder at your phone. “She doesn’t even respond to us that fast but Santi texts and suddenly her fingers work?”

You locked your phone and flipped it over on the table so they wouldn’t see any other message notifications from Jude or Santi. “It’s not that deep.” 

“It is that deep,” the three of them spoke in unison. 

Tasha pointed at your phone and then crossed her arms. “Explain.”

You stretched your arms over your head, already starting to prepare your exit strategy. “I don’t have to explain anything.”

“Oh, but you do,” Bri countered, shifting to face you. “Because you clearly like the attention from both of them.”

You let out a sharp exhale and grabbed your phone, making your way to your bedroom. “I have to get ready for the party and I suggest y’all do the same if you’re coming.”

You dropped your phone onto the bed and stood in front of your wardrobe, biting your lip while you scanned through your options. La Finca pool parties weren’t the same as your club nights. The vibe was more laid back but the guest list was usually stacked with the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, so naturally you had to one up them and show them how a Miami girl stepped out. Just as you were grabbing a cropped halter top from the hanger, your phone vibrated against your comforter and you snatched it up immediately.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 20:58 - Touch grass with me. What’s the move tonight?

You debated telling him about the party, but you decided against it and threw your phone back on the bed with a scoff to finish getting ready. Although he was giving you the ick, something about the way he chased you fed a very specific, very vain part of you and you would be lying if you didn’t admit you weren’t the least bit curious in how far Jude was willing to take it. 

Somewhere outside of your room, you could hear Bri and Tasha moving around, digging through wardrobe drawers and arguing over what top to wear. Mateo’s voice floated down the hall, loudly reminding everyone that if they didn’t hurry up, he was leaving without all of you.

An hour later, the four of you piled into a car with the windows down as the city lights of Madrid blurred past. The further you drove into La Finca, the bigger the homes became. When you finally pulled up to the house, you could hear a mix of reggaeton, afrobeats and spanish trap music playing through the air. The garden surrounding the property was already full of people with drinks in hand as they laughed and swayed to the music. 

You made your way to the pool area, smelling the mixed scent of tangy smoke from hookah and rum. You adjusted your top, feeling the backless cut brush your skin in the breezy, but warm night time air as you walked on the stone pathway. Your matching mini skirt hugged your hips just right and dipped low enough to show the string of your bikini bottoms underneath. Your small entourage followed behind you, already plotting the kind of chaos they could get into tonight.

Mateo adjusted the collar of his shirt, scoping out the scene. “I’m manifesting a man with a villa tonight. Just watch.”

“Manifest being the bartender while you’re at it” Tasha muttered, eyeing the outdoor bar where bottles of Ron Barcelo, Brugal, and Larios gin were already in rotation. Someone had cracked open a case of Estrella Galicia beers, and a group near the pool was passing around cups of Kalimotxo, the unofficial drink of every wild night in Spain.

“Vamonos mamis!” Santi yelled from somewhere near the pool. 

His height alone made him impossible to miss. He was a towering 6’5”, had broad shoulders with a trim waist, perfectly white teeth, dimples, deep sun kissed skin, and a freshly trimmed fade that made you tilt your head slightly to take a better look. He had that natural Dominican aura that made it impossible to tell whether he was flirting or just being nice.

“Oh, you’re outside, outside tonight!” he teased, sliding his arm around your waist for a quick hug. He glanced behind you and smiled at Bri, Tasha and Mateo. “Good to see you all. Drinks are in the kitchen. Hookah’s by the pool.”

“And you’re where?” Bri asked, arching a brow while biting the nail of her finger flirtatiously.

“Everywhere.” Santi winked, then tilted his head back toward the pool. “Come find me if you need anything.” He disappeared back into the crowd before any of you had time to respond, leaving the scent of his cologne lingering between all of you.

“Oooh he’s wearing Rêveur.” Tasha nodded in approval, taking a second glance back to get another look at him. “That man has taste.” 

“But why is he so fineee?” Bri muttered under her breath.

Mateo snickered. “Because God had time when he made Dominican men that’s why.”

You hated gassing men up too much, so you gave them a blank stare, eventually walking away to make your way toward the drinks as Bad Bunny’s “VeLDÁ” played through the sound system. They followed behind and Mateo took on his duty as bartender, rummaging through bottles of Havana Club and Brugal Añejo.

“Shots or mixed drinks?” Mateo asked, double fisting bottles in his hands.

“Mixed” you answered immediately.

“Shots” Bri and Tasha dueted.

“Majority rules, sorry Y/N” Mateo mused as he reached for the shot glasses.

On the other side of the yard, Jude leaned back in an outdoor lounge chair, resting his arms lazily while his drink sat half empty on the table in front of him. He wasn’t drunk, but the warmth of Madrid, the drinks, and the atmosphere had him leaning into the mood.

“That’s her?” Cama tilted his head toward the cluster of people near the pool, smiling with curiosity.

Jude didn’t answer at first and stared at the condensation on his glass before moving his eyes back to you. He clocked you as soon as you stepped on the stone pathway, he couldn’t have missed you even if he tried. The backless halter top with the matching mini skirt, coupled with the sheen of your Dior lip oil catching in the light every time you tilted your head back to laugh, had his head spinning. Even from a distance, he could see the faint tan lines peeking from under the straps of your bikini strings underneath your outfit.

“Damn..” Kylian whistled beside him, leaning forward to take a closer look at Bri and Tasha. “Who are the girls next to her though?”

Jude glanced sideways, trying to suppress a smirk. “Focus mate.”

“I am focused,” Kylian replied with a laugh, still scanning the scene.

Cama chuckled and nudged Jude’s arm. “She looks good, bro. You bringing her home tonight or what?”

Jude tilted his head, taking another slow sip of his drink. “We’ll see. She likes to play hard to get.”

“Does she know you’re here?” Kylian asked as if he cared, when he was actually plotting on Bri and Tasha.

“Nah.”

The truth sat heavy on his chest. He hadn’t expected to run into you tonight, but then again, Madrid was a small world when it came to hanging around certain circles. It was bound to happen eventually. But seeing you laughing with your friends did something to him that he wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You should go over there” Cama suggested, nudging Jude’s arm. 

“Not yet.” Jude replied, following the curve of your bare shoulders as you tipped your head back to down a shot with your friends. The twist of your face from the burn of the alcohol, along with the parting of your lips made it too easy to remember the way those same lips felt against him just two weeks ago.

—

The shot you had just taken settled warmly in your stomach while the bass from the music grew heavier. The music was loud, the air filled with scents of alcohol, sweat, and smoke but none of it could shake the buzz in your head from spotting Jude in the party crowd.

Of all the parties in Madrid, he had to be at this one.

You clutched your glass tighter, trying to resist the urge to look back at the lounge chairs near the pool. Bri crossed her arms and smirked, darting her eyes between you and Jude. “So you’re just gonna ignore him all night?”

“Ignore who?” you replied flatly, knowing damn well who she was talking about.

“Oh girl. Pack it up.” Tasha chimed in from your other side while swaying to the beat of the music. “You know exactly who.”

“No. I don’t.” you muttered, wiping off the condensation wetness from your fingertips.

“Then why are you gripping the glass like that?” Bri teased, bumping your hip with hers.

You ignored her and instead scanned the crowd for any sign of Santi. You spotted him leaning against a pillar with a bottle of beer in hand, laughing at something one of his teammates said. His crisp white shirt clung to his torso, making you gawk just a little. When he caught your gaze, he lifted his beer and gave you a blinding smile.

Tasha clocked it immediately and raised her eyebrows. “Well.. looks like you have options tonight. Bellingham or Dominguez?”

You sighed heavily, ignoring her again and headed to the pool to dip your feet in. The infinity pool stretched out in front of you as you swung your legs back and forth in the water. You should’ve felt relaxed, or maybe even carefree and tipsy, but instead you were on edge.

On the other side of things, now that you were closer, Jude watched you from the rim of his glass as he took long, slow sips. Kylian and Cama were talking next to him but their words turned into background noise while he observed the way you leaned back with your hands pressed against the pool deck stone.

“She’s going to notice you staring eventually” Kylian leaned in, sensing Jude still had you on his mind.

Jude tilted his head back to finish his drink. The thought of you being so close yet so far away made the alcohol sit heavier in his stomach. You hadn’t really been giving him much of a thought since you hooked up and that bothered him. It made him want you even more. He internally debated with himself, wondering if he should just leave you alone or speak up now that he had an opening that you absolutely couldn’t leave on read. Just as he was about to stand, Cama clapped him on the shoulder with a wide grin. “Go talk to her bro. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could throw her drink in his face..” Kylian added helpfully.

Jude snorted. “Nah. I don’t think she’s like that.”

He really didn’t know you as well as he thought he did, you were definitely ‘like that’ if the need arose. 

Jude stood up with enough adrenaline and liquid courage to walk the short path to the pool’s edge where you sat. You felt his towering presence immediately as he stood with his hands tucked into his pockets, glancing toward you swishing your feet in the water.

“You ignoring my texts now?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, surprised that he had the gall to start the conversation off that way. “You’re not serious.”

A gleam of moonlight caught on his lips when he shifted closer to you with a lazy smirk plastered over his face. “I get it. You’re a busy girl. But you could’ve at least told me you would be here tonight.”

“For what? Why would I tell you?” you countered, looking up at him in annoyance. “I don’t even know you like that.” The nerve of this boy to think he deserved to know any of your moves when he wasn’t your man, or anything remotely close to it.

“You know me well enough to let me fuck..”

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “Excuse me?”

Jude tilted his head, still with a dumb smirk on his face that made you want to slap it clean off his face. His hands were still tucked in his pockets casually, like he wasn’t standing there stirring the most out of you.

“I’m just saying..” he lazily shrugged, as if that would smooth over the conversation.

“Oh, ‘you’re just saying’ ” you mocked, standing up to meet his eye, though you still ended up having to look up because he was so tall. The edge of your skirt brushed against his thigh and you were close enough to see the sheen of sweat on his thick hairline from the warm night air. Up close, Jude was hard to ignore. He got under your skin in the right way to make you give him your full attention.

Just the way he liked it.

“And this is coming from the same man blowing up my phone like I owe him something.”

Jude chuckled under his breath, his eyes moving briefly to your outfit before locking back onto your eyes. “I wouldn’t have to blow your phone up if you just responded the first time, angel.”

Angel.

That word hit you straight in your core. It was impossible not to hear his voice from that night echoing in your head.

“That’s it, angel. Keep fucking me back.”

You took a deep inhale through your nose, clenching your fists on your sides as heat flared through your chest from frustration and other things you weren’t ready to name.

“Don’t call me that” you snapped, but the hitch in your breath told a different story. A story that said you liked it, and Jude noticed. His eyes lowered to your lips briefly, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward like he knew exactly where your mind went. 

“Ohhh, so you do remember” he mused, clearly enjoying himself.

“Jude, I swear-” You shoved his shoulder but he barely moved in the slightest bit. He stood his ground, leaning into your ear to speak low enough so only you could hear. “Don’t start. Unless you’re trying to start something you know I can finish for you.”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, you know that?”

The warmth from the alcohol running through your veins made your voice louder than you intended, making you become acutely aware of the heads starting to turn your way. In between your conversation with Jude, Tasha and Bri made their way over to sit with Kylian and Cama near the lounge chairs. Bri was sitting on Kylian’s lap with her arms draped over his neck like they knew each other way longer than what had to have been no longer than 15 minutes. All four of them were watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of amusement.

“Okay, fuck this” you muttered under your breath, feeling the embarrassment creep in. Eyes on you and whispers spreading throughout the crowd was the exact type of thing you wanted to avoid. Your mind flashed to the SpillTheBeans post and the comments dissecting your entire life, snapping you right back to the cruel reality of being a newly added ‘Bellingham Baddie’, as your friends called it.

“This is exactly why I don’t fucking date athletes” you jabbed a finger at Jude’s chest for emphasis.

“Who said anything about dating?”

You laughed in disbelief and threw your hands up. The tipsiness loosened your filter in all the wrong ways. “You know what? I’m so sick of-”

“Todo bien?” (Everything okay?)

The sound of Santi’s voice made you freeze mid sentence. You turned around just enough to see him approaching with an unbothered walk, beer still in hand like he wasn’t about to walk straight into chaos. His eyes moved between you and Jude, reading the situation.

“We’re good.” you answered, holding up your hand toward Santi as if that would somehow deescalate whatever was about to go down.

“Didn’t look like it,” Santi eyed Jude in a way that was more curious than confrontational, but Jude wasn’t having it, being the crashout that he was.

“You her bodyguard or something?” Jude shot, tilting his chin as he stepped fully into Santi’s space. Santi’s smile didn’t budge but his posture shifted subtly enough to raise the tension up a couple notches. “Nah. I’m just looking out for a friend” he replied coolly, not breaking eye contact.

“Yeah? Well, she doesn’t need you to–”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” you yelled loud enough to cut through the music and all the other conversations happening around the pool. Heads turned with the rise of your voice and half of the party had their eyes locked on the three of you, but you were too far gone, and too far drunk to care.

“I am so tired of you men acting like I’m some prize you get to win!” You jabbed a finger between both of them in frustration. “I don’t fucking belong to either of you! And you..” You turned to Jude with fire in your eyes. “Stop acting like I owe you something just because I let you fuck me ONE time!”

Jude’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“And you..” You whipped back to Santi, who at least had the decency to look slightly guilty. “Don’t walk up here like you’re about to save me! I don’t fucking need saving!”

The silence was deafening after the read you gave them, broken only by the distant sound of water pushing against the pool edge and gossiping chatter from the crowd.

Finally, Jude ran a hand over his curls, exhaling hard through his nose. “You done?”

“Yes, I’m done! I’m never fucking you again so get it out of your thick skulled head!” you snapped and stormed off toward the house without looking back. 

Back at the lounge chairs, Kylian and Cama exchanged looks while Bri and Tasha creased in laughter.

“I don’t know whether to be scared or impressed..” Kylian shook his head in amusement.

“Definitely impressed,” Cama replied with a grin.

You stormed off down the path leading toward the house, weaving through random groups of partiers who definitely caught at least half of the argument. The adrenaline and frustration swirling around in your head had you on ten.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” you spoke to yourself, enraged. “I fucking hate ballers. Worms for brains ass motherfuckers.”

The nerve and audacity of that man to approach you like he was owed something more than the one night you already gave him pissed you off. Your chest was filled with a fury of emotions you really didn’t want to unpack, especially not in the middle of a party where half of the crowd had probably pulled out their phones to message their group chats about what they just witnessed. As soon as you reached the back door of the house, Mateo appeared beside you out of nowhere, moving swiftly to match your quick pace.

“Girl.. what was all of that?” he asked, eyes wide with equal parts concern and curiosity.

“Nothing.” you muttered with clenched teeth, but Mateo wasn’t having it.

“Nothing? That was prime telenovela content and I need details immediately. Why did-”

“I’m never fucking Jude again,” you snapped, cutting him off before he had a chance to launch his full analysis. It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone else. Mateo knew Jude having you this bothered by his presence meant you’d be rethinking that exact statement in approximately three to five business days. He’d seen it all before, so instead of pushing any further, he took one sip of his drink and gave a knowing look between you, Santiago, and Jude.

“Mmm… never say never.”

[unhealthyvendetta]

ೃ⁀➷ KISS MY CUTE ASS BYE-YE-YE!

✧˚ · . overview. you're trying get home in the rain and bump into nanami. you two hit it off but gojo keeps trying to win you back but you break things off finally(?) part one

⇢ ˗ˏˋ caution. nanami x reader, no use of "y/n", angst, fluff, fem reader, obsessed gojo, persistent reader, flirty reader, clueless nanami, not proofread ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

ding!

You woke up to a notification, but who would text you at this hour? It's like 7AM.. oh. It's 12PM.. how did you sleep in for so long? You checked your phone to see that your manager has requested you to come in.

For some reason you accepted, maybe for the extra pay.. you don't know. But you quickly hopped out of bed, took a shower, got dressed, and walked out of your apartment complex.

You got in your car, turned on your favorite song and was off to work. Today was going to be a good day for you, you'll make some money for a short shift and maybe just lie in bed the entire day.

Your job went by pretty fast and as you stepped out the building, you felt a drop of rain. Your happy mood turned into a sour one as even more droplets of rain fall down upon you. You didn't have an umbrella.

You quickly covered yourself with a jacket and went to go find your car in the parking lot when all of a sudden the rain drops are gone? You look up to see an umbrella above your head, you turn to see Nanami, who also has an umbrella under his head.

Oh dear, did Nanami have to see you like this? You awkwardly thanked him and he just smiled softly.

"I assume you just got back from your job?" Nanami questioned.

"Yeah, I did." You replied and took the umbrella from him, his hands brushing against yours gently. Just as you thanked him and was about to walk away, Nanami spoke again. "Wait, do you have a minute?"

Did you? Hell no. But for Nanami? Hell yes.

You turned back around, "Sure. What is it?" You asked him. "Okay, this might be a little rude of me to ask and It's totally fine if you don't want to talk to me about this, but is Gojo okay? He's looks a bit.. on edge, and I know you two are going out.." Nanami said, although there seemed to be no hint of concern for Gojo in his eyes.

"Oh, uh.. we broke up a week ago actually." You replied. Nanami looked a little intrigued, "Really? I thought saw you two kissing outside of a bakery a few days ago." Nanami responded.

"We did, but I didn't want him to. I pushed him off after a few seconds," You sighed. "Oh, I'm sorry I reminded you of that." Nanami apologized. "Don't worry about it," You replied. "I'd love to chat more, but I need to get home." You replied, hoping he'd offer his number.

"That's fine, sorry for keeping you. I can give you my number if you like," Nanami offered, making you wanna jump for joy.

You accepted his offer and you drove home with nothing short of excitement, you had Nanami's umbrella and his number? This was the best day of your life.

As you stepped into your apartment, you saw Satoru there. So it looks like it was not the best day of your life. "What the hell!? Why are you here?" You yelled.

"I'm trying to change, I am. But you're not giving me a chance. Can't we just start over? Please? I'll do anything.." Satoru begged you.

"Why can't you just give it up? I'm so tired of you." You replied as your face displayed an unimpressed expression. "Maybe I should get a restraining order?" You added.

"God damn it, I'm trying here! Why can't you see that I'm sorry? What else do I need to do for you to take me back!?" Satoru yelled. "Who said I'm taking you back?" You scoffed.

Satoru's face showcased fear and anger, "What do you mean? You wouldn't leave me, right?" He asked, almost begging.

"I already did, get out my apartment." You said, pointing to the door of your apartment. "So you're really leaving me? Just like that?" Satoru frowned.

"Indubitably," You replied with sass.

And with that, Satoru was gone.. maybe? Who knows.

╰┈➤︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

sorry this is so short :( i'm probably gonna make a part 3! thank you all so much for the support and i'm sorry if this isn't as good as you expected </3

@kcch-ns

[2-dsimp]

Off topic, when I read about Neinov the Toon, my first thoughts came to a game called Amanda the Adventurer. Idk why 😭

Anyway, are your plans would be Neinov coming to the real world, or Neinov dragging mc back to his world? 🤔

•:•.•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•

Yandere! Toon x Reader

•:•.•:•.••:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:

Synopsis: your past mistake from your old childhood days has come back to haunt you.

Cw: attempted kidnapping, obsessive, controlling possessive behavior, mentions of stalking, Neinov being delusional, non-consensual,

•:•.•:•.••:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:

“My partner! It’s you? Is it really you?”

A warbled voice addressed you, from beyond the fragile veil of where your reality clashed with the imaginary world of Cartoonz. A realm that was too warped beyond real life’s comprehension.

What the fuck was going on? All you did was turn on the damned tv to watch some classic cartoons. The one time your father left the remote out in plain sight.

You took a chance to sift through some channels, you were grown damnit! And yet he was still being such a helicopter parent. All because of an stupid accident you couldn’t remember for the life of you, that happened when you were a child.

“P-partner? What the hell? What is this? Who are you?!”

“Hey hey heyyy aren’t you being too cold? I’m Neinov your partner in crime, for life or death~ We used no—we are the best of buddies and more hehe!”

Your blood ran cold at the chipper response coming straight from the entity before you. Fingers desperately fiddling with the remote to turn off the malfunctioning tv.

As multiple gloved comical hands began pushing at the frame, trying merge out of the screen. Making the stand rock from the force of whatever thing was trying to come out. Suddenly, you heard your phone ringing, the set of rapid texts coming from your stern father.

≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒

★《You stupid child! What have you done?!》

≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒

≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒

★《I said you were forbidden from watching the TV! Quickly, pull the plug!》

≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒

≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒

★《Don’t let it crossover— it can’t—Die》

≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒ ≒≒

The phone, sputtered its battery suddenly drained to 0% shutting down completely.

“Ugh that vile monster, I mean your pops is still so persistent after all these years! Its unfortunate to leave him be for now, but savin you comes first!”

Neinov whistled flippantly, his gloved hands breached through the screen. But His face was still smushed against it. Rabid eyes wide with glee staring at you obsessively. His jagged teeth grinning widely at you. That motherfucker even threw a cheesy wink your way. As if this home invasion was a normal thing.

“Saving me? What are you even talking about?! This can’t be real it’s gotta be a prank!”

You’d sputter, trying to make yourself feel good with a white lie. but you knew better, those goosebumps upon your arm told you that you weren’t dreaming.

This felt to real to be a dream. So you scrambled to do something—anything. But did you want to risk getting snatched up by the now free roaming hands. Coming from the tv just to pull the plug? Or maybe breaking the screen would be better? The question is how? You didn’t have a damned hammer or brick on hand.

You didn’t take your father seriously when he warned you to stay away from tv screens. Especially during certain times at night.

You always thought it was some kind of boogeyman type scare tactic so you’d focus on school rather than goofing off online. But now you were at a loss, you were home alone, with a thing calling you its partner in crime.

All this overthinking wasn’t good for your anxiety. You weren’t the type to do well under pressure anyways so the best option that your body decided upon was to flee.

But in hindsight, you did recognize the Toon’s voice it sounded so familiar yet so distant from time. It carried a heavy twang like in those old 90s cartoons. However, seeing you try to escape the voice turned deranged.

“Ah aha oh You silly goose! Where the f*#% do you think you’re going? And my gosh how is this stupid censor not removed yet?!”

The toon’s colorful curses were censored with a bleeps and dolphin noises, as you were rendered immobile.

“I found you… All these years I’ve spent searching for you like a pin inna haystack. And now you’re right in front of me!”

Struggling, You desperately pulled and pulled only to remain where you once were.

“Hey I’m saving you right now, so you should be happy! And jump into my arms greetin me with a big ole a hug and a smooch! Cuz I’m your hero baby!”

Looking down that same gloved hand big enough to encompass your waist. Had a vice grip on your ankle, it tightened and with a sharp yank, you collapsed to the ground.

“Oh I get it you wanna get all glammed up for ya boy. But Yknow you don’t need any makeup, I like ya just the way you are babycakes!”

You started getting rug burn from being dragged across the carpet. By his noodle arms that acted like a sticky hand rope.

“So there’s no need to be shy! After all I’m bringing you back home! Where you belong.”

You were scratching, clawing with all your might to stay tethered to the floor. Neinov, merely found you to be playing hard to get. As he laughed in a bubbly manner, licking his lips as he finally pushed his head through the screen’s threshold. To be in the same space as his precious partner.

“Listen I know we’ve been separated for far too long huh? But Don’t worry! I’ll make you remember all the fun times we spent together just like the good ole days!”

———————————————————————-

A/n: nothing like some good cartoonish love 🤧

[badkitty3000]

The Bodyguard

Chapter 7

<-Chapters 1 and 2

<-Chapter 3

<-Chapters 4 and 5

<-Chapter 6

Five Hargreeves x female reader, multi-chapter COMPLETE, request

Summary: Five is hired to protect you, a professional ballet dancer, from an obsessive stalker. As the threat from the stalker escalates, Five must navigate his growing feelings for you while keeping you safe

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, choking, bathtub sex, after care

A/N: Thank you to everyone that read this story! I really enjoyed writing it. A special shout-out to @thesilvertheorist for helping me out with the ballet facts, I hope I got it mostly right 🥰

Chapter 7: The Boyfriend

You were awoken the next morning by a loud bang from somewhere within the Academy. The sun was already up, shining through the small window of Five’s bedroom. Today you didn’t have to be at the theater until later in the day, so you and Five had been able to sleep in. Which was a good thing, considering you hadn’t gotten that much sleep during the night. As it turned out, Five’s libido had been turned up to eleven and you were woken up more than once by persistent kisses and his rock hard erection pressing up against you.

Not that you were complaining.

But you were tired now, and you sunk deeper into the bed, burrowing your face into Five’s chest.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice muffled.

“Hmmm?” Five answered, still half asleep.

Then you heard another loud noise, this time accompanied by a voice.

“Fivey! Hey, you here?”

Five’s eyes flew open and he sat straight up in bed, making your head drop onto the mattress. “Shit.”

“What’s going on?” you asked again, this time a little more annoyed. You rubbed at your eyes. “Who’s here?”

Five groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Klaus.”

“Your brother?”

Five nodded. “Shit,” he said again, untangling himself from your body and stumbling out of bed, almost falling on his face as he grabbed his boxers off the floor.

Just as Five had them pulled half-way up his legs, the bedroom door flung open.

“Oh, there you are! Jesus, I’ve been looking all over for–” Klaus stopped mid-sentence when he saw Five hastily tugging his underwear on while you pulled the covers up over your chest. “Oh shit…” Klaus gasped. Then he broke out in a huge grin. “Wait… Fivey! Is this her? The ballerina?” 

Klaus stepped around Five to address you. “Hi, I’m Klaus, I’m sure Five has told you all about me. I think I can speak for our entire family when I say that it’s about damn time someone took the old man here to Pound Town. He really needed to do the ol’ lust-and-thrust, if you know what I mean.” He made a lewd gesture with his hand. “Poor guy… the pressure has just been building and building, and I was telling him just the other day that he could stand to play a game of hide the cannoli before it falls off and –”

Five grabbed Klaus’s arm with a yank and they both disappeared in a flash of blue, leaving you blinking bewilderedly into the space they had just been occupying.

From the other room you heard the aftermath.

“What’s the matter with you, Cinco? OW!”

“What's the matter with me?! What’s the matter with you?!”

“OW! Stop hitting me!”

“NO! You’re lucky I’m not armed right now!”

“OW! God damn it, Five! You’re acting like a lunatic!”

While the two brothers were arguing, you hopped out of bed and pulled your clothes on. Then you snuck out of the bedroom and into the living room. Five’s entire body was coiled tight and he breathed like a bull through flared nostrils. The fact that he was standing there in just his underwear, with his hair sticking up in every direction, and clearly wanting to kill his brother, made you laugh. You covered your mouth when Five whipped his head in your direction.

“See? She thinks it’s funny,” Klaus said, pointing at you. “Thank goodness she has a sense of humor, you crabby old bastard.”

“Shut. Up. Klaus.” Five spat out through gritted teeth.

“Five, it’s ok,” you assured him, although you weren’t entirely sure it was ok. Five really looked ready to explode. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” Klaus added helpfully. “So I caught you in a pants-off-dance-off; so what? I’m happy for you! You finally found someone to touch your wiener and personally I think that’s beautiful.”

Five covered his face with both hands and groaned. “Fuck my life.”

Trying your very best to keep from laughing at the entire situation, you walked up to Klaus and officially introduced yourself.

“It’s nice to finally meet one of Five’s brothers,” you said. “I hear enough about you.”

“I bet he says I’m his favorite, right?” Klaus joked.

“Actually… yeah,” you said with a smile.

Klaus gasped so dramatically with a hand on his chest, you thought he might fall backwards onto the floor. “Fivey! I knew it!” He reached out to hug Five, but was met with a look that meant he would surely meet his demise if he even attempted any physical contact.

Klaus backed off, but he grinned at Five. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you she would jump your rickety old bones.”

“He jumped my bones, actually,” you corrected.

“Oooh… such a horny old man… I love that for you!”

“Klaus?” Five said.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“For the love of god… GET THE FUCK OUT!” Five yelled, his neck muscles straining with the effort.

Hardly fazed by his brother’s outburst, Klaus turned to you. “Well, I better go because I can see that twitchy look in his eye and I don’t really feel like making a trip to the Void today. But it was very nice meeting you, you seem lovely.”

You laughed. “Thank you, so do you.”

“Bye, Fivey… don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Klaus called over his shoulder as he walked into the foyer and you heard the door close behind him.

You looked at Five, staying silent lest you piss him off anymore.

“Sorry,” he said, clearly still fuming.

“Five, it’s fine. I don’t really care. And I’m not really sure why you’re so angry.” You paused and thought of something. “Are you ashamed to be with me?”

Five’s eyes widened. “What? Of course not!”

“Then why are you so angry?”

Five sighed. “I was just… I don’t know… I just wanted to keep you for myself for a little bit longer. Now Klaus is going to blab his mouth to my entire family and pretty soon all of my idiot siblings are going to be down here, putting in their two cents. For some reason they feel the need to always comment on my life choices.”

You breathed a little sigh of relief, then went to him, circling your arms around his waist. “I think they just want you to be happy.”

Five rolled his eyes. “Them leaving me alone would make me happy.”

You squeezed him tighter and kissed his cheek. “I think you’re a big liar.”

Five raised his eyebrows, settling his hands on your hips. “You’re calling me a liar?”

You nodded. “Yep.”

With a sad shake of his head, he hoisted you over his shoulder while you shrieked out loud. “Help!” you cried with a laugh “I’m being taken against my will!”

“Sorry, sweetheart… no one is coming to save you,” Five said solemnly before blinking you into the bedroom and tossing you onto the bed.

******************************

An hour later, after Five had finished his thorough torture of you, and you were allowed to shower and dress again, it was time to get going to the theater.

“I need to stop back at my place,” you told him. “I forgot my lucky hairpin.”

“You have a lucky hairpin?” Five asked skeptically as he buttoned up his shirt and tucked it into his pants.

“Yes. And don’t make fun of me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sarcastically.

“So, are you taking me there or not?”

“Who’s asking? The boss or the girlfriend?”

You shrugged. “Let’s say the boss.”

Five gave a lazy salute in your direction. “Then you got it.”

When you kissed him hard on the mouth, then pinched his butt, you pulled back with a smile. “That was the girlfriend.”

Five grinned. “Careful. I don’t want my boss to find out. She’s cute but she’s kind of crazy. She has a lucky hairpin.”

“So I’ve heard,” you said with a giggle.

****************************

Five drove the SUV up your long driveway and parked it at the top, in front of the house. You turned to him with a hand on the door handle.

“I’ll just be a minute. I know right where it is.”

“Hurry up, you don’t want to be late again.”

“Last time was not my fault!” 

With a smile, Five turned off the engine. “True. I’ll take the blame for that one.”

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” you told him as you hopped out.

You fished your house key out of the pocket of your sweatpants and opened the big oak door of your house, shutting it behind you. As you ran up the winding staircase, your footsteps echoed in the big mansion. You jogged into your bedroom, checking the top of your dresser where you sometimes throw your pins and barrettes when you get home from the studio. It wasn’t there, so you knew the only other place it could be was the bathroom.

Flipping the light on, you walked to the counter where you kept a small little dish with some jewelry and more hair stuff. Spotting the pin you needed, you lifted it out of the dish and smiled, tucking it into your bun. When you glanced up at the mirror, something odd caught your eye. One of the candles that lined your bathtub had been knocked over and was lying on its side. It was weird because you knew Five had cleaned everything up after your little sex romp the other night. You remembered because you had specifically made a comment to him about his OCD since he had lined up all of the candles in a perfect row.

Frowning, you reached over and set it upright again. You were going to ask Five about it when you got back in the car. Maybe he hadn’t been as thorough as you had thought. You flipped the lightswitch off and walked back into your bedroom. 

As you crossed to the middle of your room, the hairs on the backs of your arms stood up for just a second and you paused. That’s when you felt something loop around your neck from behind.

Your initial reaction was to scream, but your voice was cut off before it could leave your throat. Whatever was around your neck was getting tighter by the second and you gasped and choked, trying to suck air in, or to make any kind of noise. In your frantic flailing, you backed up against a body. It was clearly someone bigger and taller than you and even in your panic you could hear their heavy breathing close to your ear.

It was your stalker. He must have broken into your house while you were at Five’s and had been waiting for you. The thought made you panic even more.

You brought your hands up, trying to claw at the rope or whatever it was he was strangling you with. When you felt it, though, you knew exactly what it was. One of the satin ribbons from your pointe shoes. That was the reason you couldn’t find one of them yesterday. He had somehow stolen it from the theater. 

The ribbon was flat and slippery against your throat, and you couldn’t get your fingers underneath it to try and pull it away. You were strong, probably stronger than your attacker, so you started to fight back with all of your might. 

Rearing up and throwing your head back, you slammed the back of your skull into his chin, making him cry out in pain. He held on, though, so you moved in the other direction, bending over and trying to flip him over your shoulders.

But he was too tall and you couldn’t get enough leverage. You realized you were going to run out of oxygen very soon. 

“This could have ended differently,” he told you, so close to you that you could feel his hot breath on your neck. “But I wasn’t good enough for you.” He yanked the ribbon tighter. “Where’s your asshole boyfriend, now, huh?”

At that precise moment, Five was in the car, checking his watch. You had been gone several minutes now, which wasn’t cause for alarm, necessarily, but you had said you would be right back. He rapped his fingers on the console, trying to tell himself it was fine and to just give you a couple more minutes. After about thirty seconds, he let out a heavy sigh.

“She really is a tortoise, I swear,” he said to himself before blinking inside the foyer.

Five called your name up the stairs. When he didn’t get an answer, he thought that was weird, but maybe you were in the bathroom and couldn’t hear him. 

There was a loud “thump” sound and then what sounded like shuffling of feet. Then he heard a man’s voice.

With his heart pounding in his chest, Five reached into the back of his waistband for his pistol, but there was nothing there. He realized, horribly, that he had left it in the car.

It didn’t matter, though. In one blink, he was standing at the top of your staircase. He heard another loud thud from your bedroom and sprinted towards it. When he burst through the door, he was met with the worst sight he could have imagined.

You were fighting for your life, kicking and struggling with everything you had, all while your face was turning blue and your eyes were bugging out of your head. Your stalker, the same man that Five had assumed he’d scared off, was trying to choke the life out of you. From the looks of it, he had almost accomplished his goal. 

Five’s entrance distracted the stalker for a moment and in that fraction of a second, you flung your body backwards, slamming him against the wall. The impact made him loosen his grip just enough to where you could get your hands up under his arms, slipping under them and out of his hold. You stumbled forward, reaching for Five, but you had been deprived of oxygen for too long and the spots you had been seeing before your eyes turned to solid black. You fell to the floor in a heap, passed out cold.

Five stared in horror at your limp body. Then he saw red.

He blinked behind your stalker, catching him by surprise. With one arm flung around the front of the man’s neck, Five used his free hand to grab around his other wrist and pull backwards, choking the man just like he had choked you. Five then brought his knee up, slamming it into the small of the other man’s back, directly over his vertebrae. The stalker groaned with pain, the sound coming out strained and gurgling from his throat.

“I told you I’d kill you if I ever saw you again,” Five warned. “Did you think I was fucking kidding?”

As an answer, the man broke free of Five’s grasp, lurching forward to get away from him. He spun around, facing Five head on.

“This is your fault!” he screamed, his scruffy face contorted with anger and pain. “You ruined everything!”

Five blinked directly in front of the man, hauling his fist back and punching him across the cheek bone, where he heard a sharp crack. The man yelled out, but he fought back; swinging his own fist out and making contact with Five’s chin before he could blink out of the way. He didn’t let it slow him down, though, and Five jumped again, landing behind the man and kicking the back of his knees, buckling his legs. When he fell to the ground, Five stood over him, giving him a hard kick in the gut and making the man curl in on himself. 

“You stupid fuck,” Five snarled, balling his fists up and staring the other man down. “Get up!” Five kicked him again, this time directly in the face, splitting his lip wide open and fracturing his nose. “YOU WANNA FIGHT ME? I SAID GET UP!”

Your attacker was broken and bleeding, moaning and clutching at his stomach, but he still wasn’t done. Taking Five’s direction, he slowly and painfully hauled himself up from the floor. He still held the pink ribbon from your shoe, now stained with blood.

He started to cry, tears slipping down his face and mixing with the blood running out of his nose and mouth.

“Why you and not me?” he asked pitifully. “Why are you so fucking special?”

Five smiled dangerously, letting out a low laugh. “See, that’s what you’re not getting, asshole. Neither one of us are special.” He looked at you lying on the floor. “She is.”

“I’M GOING TO KILL BOTH OF YOU!” the man screamed, right before he charged at Five.

Five was able to dodge another hit to the face, but the stalker’s next swing landed on Five’s back, right at the level of his kidney. He clenched his jaw and groaned in pain. He blinked again, this time just a few feet away, but it gave him enough of an advantage to deliver a powerful roundhouse kick to the man’s chest. It knocked him off balance and he staggered backwards.

Five took the opportunity to blink one more time, grabbing the front of the man’s shirt in both hands and shoving him as hard as possible away from him and towards the old, drafty window of your bedroom. As the other man was staggering backwards, Five lifted his foot and kicked him with all of his strength, directly in his stomach. That provided enough momentum to send the man flying backwards, right through the glass of the second story window.

There was a loud, high-pitched scream as he disappeared out of sight, and then a sickening “crack”. Then there was silence.

Five ran to the window and looked down. Directly below him was the lifeless body of your stalker, his back snapped in half at an unnatural angle, and draped over one of the cement lion statues that guarded your grandmother’s mansion. A trickle of blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth as his lifeless eyes stared back up at Five; the pink ribbon still clutched in his hand and fluttering in the breeze.

Five was glad the fucker was dead, but he didn’t have time to think about that right now. His main objective was you and he blinked to your side, dropping down on the floor and quietly saying your name. He gingerly moved your head so that he could rest it in his lap. He stroked your hair off your face.

You were breathing, he could see that at least. He leaned down, kissing you gently, before picking you up and laying you in your bed. He sat on the edge, next to you, and held your hand. He squeezed it and said your name again.

“Please wake up. Please.” He noted the dark purple line slashed across your throat from the ribbon, and he traced his fingers lightly over it. “Come on, sweetheart… I need you to wake up, now.”

Maybe you were inclined to follow his instructions even when you were unconscious, or maybe it was a coincidence, but at that moment your eyes fluttered open.

“Five,” you croaked out, your throat raw, and you coughed.

“Oh my god,” Five breathed out in relief. He pressed his forehead to your chest and squeezed your hand tighter. “Shit, I thought I lost you for a second.”

“What happened? Are you ok?”

Five chuckled and wiped at his eyes. He kissed your lips. “Of course you would ask that. Yeah, I’m ok. You’re safe now.”

“Where is he?”

“Gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

You coughed again, sucking in a wheezy breath. “Is he dead?”

Five nodded. “Yeah.”

“Did you kill him?”

He swallowed. “Yeah I killed him.”

You nodded thoughtfully for a moment. Then you managed a shaky smile. “I think you might be due for a raise.”

Five let out a loud and short laugh, and shook his head. “No. That was the boyfriend, not the bodyguard.”

********************************

You looked in the mirror as you stabbed your lucky hairpin into your bun and adjusted the strap on your costume. The dressing room was a flurry of activity as the other dancers put on their makeup and talked over one another with excitement. It was finally the opening night of Romeo and Juliet, and you were nervous but also confident. No matter how many times you performed in front of a theater full of people, you always got a few butterflies in your stomach. Right now, you had a few that weren’t caused by just the ballet.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Five standing off to the side, waiting near the doorway for you to come out. You smiled to yourself. He could have come in, no one else would have minded, but he wanted to give you some space. You took one last look in the mirror, making sure everything looked in place, and then went to find him.

“Hi,” you said cheerfully, resting your hands on his arms and squeezing his biceps.

“Hello, my love,” he said with a smile before kissing your cheek gently, so as not to smudge your makeup. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” You ran your hands down his chest, over his tailored suit, and adjusted his tie. “So do you.”

After a few seconds, Five’s smile faded and his eyebrows drew together. “Are you sure you’re ok enough to be doing this? You have an understudy, you know.”

“I have never missed an opening night, and I’m not going to start now.”

“Yeah, well, you probably never almost died before, either.”

“I promise I’m ok, Five.”

He reached out, gently tracing his fingers over your neck. The purple stripe that ran across it was covered with foundation, making it look like a shadow. “You can’t really see it anymore,” he mused.

“Stage makeup is amazing. It hides everything.”

“I’m still not sure about this,” Five said with a frown.

“I swear.. I’m ok. And I really need this. For myself.”

He nodded. “Ok, I get that.”

“And now you don’t have to wait in the wings. You can sit in the audience and watch it for real,” you told him with a big smile. “And then you can meet me right back here afterwards and I will be all yours again.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Again?”

“I meant still,” you said with a smirk.

“That’s what I thought.” Five leaned in to speak quietly, his cheek brushing against yours. “Remember what I told you.”

You traced your fingers over the lapels of his suit coat. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time. Specifically what you will be doing to me later tonight.”

Five’s breath caught in his throat. “Did you just call me baby?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Do you like it?”

He thought for a second and nodded. “Yeah, I think I do. I like it a lot, actually.”

You smiled at the obvious turn-on you just discovered. “Good. Now go take your seat. You’ll be sitting with Stephan’s husband. He’s nice, you’ll like him.” You reached up to give him a small kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you later, ok?”

When you went to walk away, Five grabbed your arm, and you turned back. “Merde,” he said with a smile.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, then you laughed. “Oui. How did you know to say that instead of good luck?”

Five shrugged. “I asked Stephan.”

“You’re amazing. You know it means–”

“Yeah, I know it means shit in French. I’m fluent in seven different languages.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course you are.” You gave him another kiss, this time with a little more force behind it, even if that meant smudging your lipstick a little. “Thank you, Five. Thank you for caring and for knowing what’s important to me.”

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me,” he said sincerely, and that was probably the first time anyone had said that to you.

**********************************

While Five went to take his seat and you waited backstage, warming up, you thought about all that had transpired in the last week. Five had killed for you. He had done it to save your life. And maybe you should have been a little more traumatized than you were, but deep down you felt safer than you had in a long time. Your stalker was no longer out there, watching you and waiting. You no longer had to look over your shoulder or jump at every shadow you saw. It was over, for good this time. And you had Five to thank for that.

The cops had been called, there was no getting around that. But with all of the evidence stacked up over the preceding weeks, with the letters and the photo and the restraining order, it was quickly deemed self-defense. They questioned you and Five separately and your stories lined up, so they moved on. The deceased wasn’t missed by anyone. He really was a nobody.

Your throat and neck were already starting to heal, even though you still bore the purple bruise from your ribbon. But that would fade. And you had been happy to get back to dancing. It was true what you had told Five. You really needed this performance to go well in order to heal something inside of you.

While you had been able to move on fairly well, you still had not been able to stay in your house. Instead, you had been staying with Five at the Academy. It was temporary, just until you could figure out how to sell your house and Five could find another place to live. But so far it was working out ok. 

The nights weren’t scary anymore. Not when you were in Five’s bed, with his arms wrapped around you, and his body pressed to yours. It was the best feeling in the world, and sometimes you would pretend to be sleeping even after you woke up, just so that you didn’t have to move from your little piece of heaven.

As you made your entrance onto the stage, with the spotlight illuminating only you, you paused to scan the crowd. When you saw him, his sparkling green eyes looking back at you with nothing but adoration, he smiled the most loving smile. You really felt like Juliet, with Romeo comparing you to the sun.

The future for each of you was still uncertain, but for right now life felt pretty wonderful.

Tag List: @vera-arora, @loganskittycatears, @raggabashie, @coolspider-man101, @cincohargreeveslove, @moon6star, @hopefuldesignofkawaii, @dorkyfangirl24, @chifuyu-monam0ur, @tuanputri-magui, @little-forest-goblin, @i-liketoast, @groovydazephantom, @d4rkpasseng3r, @ur-moms-fav-whore, @dremnia, @iselinde, @whatsawagonwheel, @wawawafdtuhdjh, @marydbl, @rubixgsworld, @yangzpotter, @yourlocalbrellie, @1-is-loneliest-number, @ifellinto-fantasy, @mimi4morr, @em1989ts, @fndmsrndmyfckinglfe, @moonkitty59, @wonwon1e, @smt-obsessed, @strawberrymilk4k, @voteforevilthoughts, @xfanficluvrx, @losingmymindforsoobin, @sofiebikovi, @jana0509, @callmeankiii, @thedaythatidied, @80pairsofcrocs, @sweetxserenity, @defnotsunny, @pass-me-jeez-it, @sweetbabythrills, @starlitflora, @fatcatdaddyo, @effie-revelles, @benbarnesbitj, @mvvnnstarss, @x-e1, @lovelykwe

[blqstar]

main mha boys finding out their s/o’s tiktok famous

↳ featuring ; midoriya, bakugou, shoto

content warning: black reader, fluff, a lil bit of crack too, mention on y/n’s big booty and boobies 😏, profanity + slurs, not proofread (as always tbh lmao)

note: i literally just came up with this on the spot, i was so busy daydreaming, thinking about this lmao. y’all i promise a oneshot finna come out, im def a d1 procrastinator lolll

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 — izuku midoriya !

deku honestly isn’t the person to be on social media that much. really because he’s out training most of the time

but every time he gets the chance, he comes across videos of you

and when i say every time, i mean every single time lmao

edits, little clips of you from your original tiktok, even your own tiktoks you make.

baby, when he sees you in that video, in them lil black shorts and crop top

y’all his ass is DROOLING

he’s honestly a little flabbergasted but at the same time, he’s not. he knows his princess is absolutely drop dead gorgeous so it’s really no surprise that you would go viral.

he ends up following you after a while and decides to ask you about it, assuming that you didn’t know about it yourself

“hey , bunny , did you know you’ve been going viral lately ?”

“yeah , you ain’t know ? i’m surprised you didn’t know before , zuku-poo “

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ — katsuki bakugou !

i feel kats ain’t a person to have social media, so he shol don’t have no damn tiktok🧍🏽‍♀️

“wtf is tiktak ?”

“kats , it’s tiktok .”

“whatever the fuck it’s called, i ain’t gettin’ that shit .”

with some persistence and a little bit of ‘pretty girl’ charm, he puts it on his phone (he be lyin like a mug lmao)

one particular day where he’s a lil bored, he decides to go on tiktok for the one time

and the first vid on his fyp is…you?

wtf??

he watches you lip sing a song wearing his color in a orange sundress, accentuating your butt and boobs

how many times he’s watched it? yes.

nigga has turned into an all out simp

after he’s looked, he goes through your comments and sees tons of guys simping for you too.

nigga’s boiling now

“HEY , WTF BABE ? TAKE THIS SHIT DOWN !”

“how about…no .”

“DON’T TELL ME NO , YOU WEIRDO !”

this man is an actual diva sometimes lmaoo

⋆⁺₊❅. — shoto todoroki !

like deku, he isn’t much of the type to have social media.

not just because of training but because he’s not really interested in those types of things. especially tiktok

but once he heard you talking about it to him the day before, he went to see what it was all about. (mans is obsessed w u like anything u talk abt he wants to know about lol)

and first thing he saw was you in a little black sundress and recording yourself in the mirror, showing off your figure

baby boy blushed (hes so cute)

he went through multiple clips and edits of you, even going through your profile and watching your videos.

during this, you were caught in the midst of it, watching his phone from behind

“babe~ , are you stalking my videos ?”

“yeah ofc , you look so gorgeous . send me the vids before you post next time . wanna be the first one to see ‘em .”

[shradsmanifestt]

The WHEN and HOW aren't important...

When I was manifesting one of my favourite and most important manifestation of my life, it took me some time, I admit. I was manifesting everything else except for this (I was stupid, I already had it duhh).

To revisit my old story at first I was really going back and forth and giving importance to the 3d. I always got major movement but I tried to force the 3d at times cause I wanted my manifestation. It soon changed when I learned more about manifestation.

I just gave in and repeated my affirmations till my 3d conformed. But I will admit to this because I am damn sure it will help a lot of you. I liked using tally counter and I can proudly say that I even reached the limit of it and more. Meaning just with the tally counter I had affirmed more than 100k times. And I know for a fact that this might not even be half of what I did affirm. Now I'm not giving a number to you guys for you to affirm for these many times. Nope but there are two lessons for you guys over here.

First : The number of affirmations doesn't matter. It could be 10, 100 it could be 1099 it could be more than that, it just doesn't matter.

Second : At any point of time where I was affirming for these many times and I was like why isn't it here yet and what am I doing wrong - I wouldn't have had my manifestation rn.

I hope you guys understand what I'm saying. The only reason why I got what I wanted is something I've often told you guys about as well - Do you want it bad enough? Then you'd persist no matter what. That's exactly what I did. I wanted it bad enough. I quit going back and forth on my assumptions and just persisted. I mean come on I affirmed for more than 100k. You really can't tell me that you've been affirming for a whole week and then ask why isn't it here yet.

Repetition and persistence is truly all that you need. It never fails trust me.

I consider myself really good at manifestation and well that is true in my reality. But I have no problem in admitting that I too struggled at times. But I never gave up. The HOW, the WHEN doesn't matter. It will conform.

This was the only manifestation where I really struggled with because my emotions were all over the place and I reacted to my 3d more often than not. I always got half of manifestation (only because my self concept was on point since even before I knew about manifestation, I'm a very self obsessed person 😁). I read and followed a lot to get to the point where I am rn. All I did here was affirm and persist. I love scripting and visualisations as well, but since my emotions were all over the place, I found solace in robotic affirmations. This is one of the main reasons why I promote affirming so much. It's one of the best ways to manifest especially since all you have to do is just repeat it till it manifests. It doesn't even matter if you don't believe in what you're saying. All you have to do is be fulfilled in imagination. That's it. Know that imagination is the only reality.

Persist girl, you've got this. I'm attaching an old pic of my tally counter as proof that I reached the end of it 😁