#slam dunk x f!reader

[auslanderka]

fandom : slam dunk

ship : Mitsui Hisashi x f!reader

note and TW : slam dunk spoilers ep. 81 and 82

— contains eng grammar problems and mistakes as well

“name…” Haruko broke off her sentence in the middle when she saw that the chair next to her was empty. She blinked in surprise and sighed quietly, returning her eyes to the situation on the court.

“she should be with him now,” the boy sitting on the other side spoke up. His hair carefully combed back. Mito Youhei, watched carefully everything that was happening on the court with his arms folded across his chest. He glanced at Haruko, who sighed again while nodding slightly. 

“yes, you're right. I hope he is fine…”

*

The corridors surrounding the court, where the match had already started again, were abnormally long. At least that's what you thought. After all, running from one end of the sports venue to the other was quite a challenge for someone who only watched sports on TV or from the stands sitting in a comfortable chair. Panic grew in your heart with every meter. You tried to push it away to the farthest corners of your brain, however, it poisoned your mind and suggested various worst-case scenarios. 

You couldn't quite tell what happened on the court. The action that Shohoku played under the basket was unbelievable. Your eyes were focused all the time on the ball and prayers that they would score more points. Only the whistle drew your attention to what was happening centrally in the middle of the court. You didn't know how or why Mitsui fell. You didn't even know when you jumped up from your seat and ran out of the stands as if scalded.

You ran down the stairs almost falling off them. Cursed silently feeling a slight pain in your foot but after a second you ignored it by running on. You couldn't find him. Anyone would say that finding a basketball player who is over 180 cm tall and well-built can't be that difficult. Nothing could be more wrong.

*

When a year younger schoolmate appeared before your eyes, you breathed a sigh of relief. Yasuda didn't notice you at the first moment tossing coins into the vending machine in front of him.

"Yasuda!"

"Senpai?!" he looked at you surprised as you tried with difficulty to catch your breath. Compared to them all, you were not used to running at all. The boy leaned over to take out the drinks he had just bought from the vending machine. Two large cans were still pleasantly cold.

"I'll take care of it." you assured taking the items out of his hands. "go back to the court. you are more needed there now."

He looked at you surprised but nodded. Before walking away toward the hall door, he said that Mitsui was sitting on the stairs deep in the hall. You thanked him with a slight smile and moved quickly in the indicated direction with your soul on the shoulder.

And yes. Mitsui was sitting on the stairs. His breathing was heavy and shallow, indicating the tremendous physical exertion that had just taken place few minutes ago. At first he didn't notice you. He was staring at his hands trembling with exhaustion. His head was spinning all the time. He sat stiffly on the stairs, afraid that any slightest change in the position of his body, would result in fainting again. 

A small patch on his lower lip irritated him. He should be used to all sorts of patches and bandages, since the last two years he had at least one on his face all the time. But this patch irritated him. It pulled the skin in some inexplicable way that made Mitsui irritated.

Clenched the hand lying on his knee. He was trembling all over. From exhaustion, dehydration and shame.

Hisashi felt terrible. What would Anzai-sensei say if he saw him in such a condition? Would he have looked at him from behind his glasses - with those gentle eyes - and assured him that nothing was wrong? Or would he have scolded him for being in the main Shohoku basketball team, unable to run the entire time allotted for the match?

Damn. I don't have the same energy I had in junior high. He thought all the while staring at his hand which refused to stop trembling. He took a few deep breaths, but no avail. He felt useless. Throughout the game, his effectiveness was the lowest. Even Sakuragi, that insufferable clown Sakuragi, scored more points than him. What is the point of having a Shooting Guard who is unable to throw for 3 points and fainting in the middle of the game?

“Hisashi?” You squatted in front of him and placed the cans on the ground then grabbed his trembling hand. He jumped up. You were the last person he would expect to see in front of him at that moment. Don't think he even knew you had come to the game. He didn't look around the stands during the game.

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought you a drink," you smiled slightly pointing to the cans. Sighed quietly thanking you and reached for one. You watched his body carefully. It was trembling with alarming strength. Mitsui was on the verge of exhaustion.

The can slipped from his hand and rolled on the tiles that the hallway floor was lined with. He cursed quietly under his breath while taking a second drink. You rose from your uncomfortable position and, after picking up the can, sat down next to him, watching as he struggled to open the drink. Without a word you extended your hand offering to help him - however he moved away. He turned slightly blocking you with his arm, still trying to open the metal container.

If he can't manage to open the can with his own strength, he will feel even worse than after passing out in the middle of the court in front of a full audience.

You sighed quietly, gave up by focusing your attention on the object you were holding.  

"Return to the stands." He said without looking at you. He finally managed to open the pin. "I can handle it."

"Can you handle it?" You asked and your voice was much more sarcastic than you had planned. "You'll handle it just as well as last time?" an unpleasant shiver ran down Mitsui's back. Delaying his answer, he raised the can to his lips. The cool, slightly sparkling water with a citrus note tickled his thirsty throat. 

He didn't know what he was supposed to answer. Two years ago when he once again, through his own stupidity, ended up in the hospital he told her the same thing. Go home. I'll be fine. It's no big deal. And then... You both knew too well what came next.

He closed his eyes and pressed his hand to his face in an effort to collect his thoughts. Shuddered and looked at you surprised when you pressed the still cool aluminum to his neck. You smiled slightly and he felt something melt inside him. That smile was the first thing that turned his head when you met. Always sincere and warm, somehow soothing.

"I am not your enemy. If you need to talk, I'm always here."

The white towel slipped off his shoulder. You grabbed it in your hands and gently wiped his face of sweat. With difficulty, he crumpled the empty can in his hands and reached for another. You put a towel over his head and began to wipe his hair. A quiet laugh came from under the material. Your face reddened slightly upon hearing the sound.

"So?"

"I passed out from exhaustion." he finally muttered. "I don't have the same energy I had in junior high. My abilities seem to have left me too." managed to open another can with less difficulty than the previous one. His hands slowly stopped trembling and seemed like inflated balloons over which he has no power. "I think I got the MVP for pretty eyes." You laughed quietly, but fell silent quickly realizing that this was not the right moment.

"No wonder." You sighed, playing with the edge of your towel. "You have had a two-year break. Your body is not as adapted as Akagi's…."

"even Kogure is more resilient than me." groaned lowering the half-drank drink. You shrugged your shoulders slightly sighing.

"You won't make up two years in three months. You shouldn't put so much pressure on yourself. Akagi is Akagi, Kogure is Kogure and you are you."

He croaked slightly. You stroked his cheek tenderly. Mitsui closed his eyes and cuddled his face into your hand sighing quietly. He knew you were right. You were always right. He put too much pressure on himself without looking at his condition. Instead of gradually building his stamina and improving Akagi's favorite basketball fundamentals, he threw himself into the deep water. He thought that since he was the MVP he didn't have to stoop to the level of the first years and training the basics. How wrong was he?

However, this game was too important and they had to win it at all costs.

You two sat in silence for a while longer. You waited for Mitsui to finish drinking what you brought him. You didn't know much about sports but always tried to be involved in his basketball life, however you were unable to put yourself in his shoes. Or sometimes understand his stubborn thinking. You were snapped out of your reverie by the sound of a crushed can. Mitsui reached up and stretched his neck, muttering quietly. His body no longer trembled. It seemed everything was back to normal.

You knew that Ayako wouldn't let him enter the court anymore and he would watch the rest of the game from the bench. In that whole team of idiots, she was the only one who seemed the most conscious. The rest acted like they had balls instead of brains. Especially in the middle of the game. He extended his hand and helped you up. Hisashi wanted to hug you, however you moved away from him and raised your hands in a defensive gesture. Boy sent you a surprised look.

"you stink"

"H-HEY!"

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him. 

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it. 

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

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

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing. 

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject. 

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!" 

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back. 

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment. 

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it. 

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you. 

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

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

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her. 

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it. 

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt. 

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw 

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email. 

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

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind. 

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him. 

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions. 

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight. 

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now. 

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[bloodyknucklesforme]

Pomegranate | Nikolai x F!Reader

Chapter 5

Nikolai returns

cw: cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking, humiliation, rough sex, victim blaming

Masterpost

You counted the days. There was a horrible thought scratching the back of your skull. Somewhere Nikolai was laying dead, head blown to bits, and he would never come back for you. “Come back for you”, what a stupid way to phrase it. You’d hold your head in your hands, slapping your own cheeks so you’d remember he only saw you as a whore, an object. He liked you the same way he liked his car. He would not save you. He’d protect you as long it helped himself. You had to save yourself. 

Almost two thousand pounds were stuffed in the lining of your coat. Thankfully he paid in hundred notes so it didn’t swish around when you walked. His absence might be the best time to escape. 

Arno had started becoming brave again, forcing you out onto the club floor more often. Pushing you, often literally, into the arms of his sleaziest clients. Private dances, house visits, stag nights - it made you sick. Your knees were constantly scratched up, throat sore and wrists aching. Luckily paracetamol was aplenty. 

What if Nik came back and you weren’t ready? Would you be met with another spanking or something worse? You felt rung out and left to dry in a dark room, only to be dragged out and dunked in filth again and again and again. Any brief moment of respite you had was when you managed to get away to the bathroom, crying in a stall, forcing any sick back down so you could continue working. 

One day a bouncer left a back door open for his smoke break. It was so tempting. A swirl of fog formed outside from hot club air meeting the brisk November cold. Your own door to Narnia, something better even. Ten steps and you could run, run as fast as you could. You didn’t have your coat, it was just a room away,  would the door still be open when you got back. Could you make it far enough? 

Someone hit your shoulder hard, slamming you against the wall. Cassie was making a run for it. She was barefoot, sprinting out of the door and into the fog. You kept pressed to the wall as two men chased after her. You hurried back to the floor, hearing her scream somewhere in the distance before closing the back of house door. 

Cassie’s cot next to you was filled by a new face the next day. You missed her. She hardly cried which was a plus compared to the other girls. You decided not to learn this new girl’s name. Make it easier for yourself when she inevitably disappeared. Any time you had by yourself was spent sleeping and nursing your wounds. 

It had been over two weeks since the last time you saw Nik when you were wrenched from your  cot at three in the morning. Arno had fetched you personally, grumbling to himself as he shoved you into a car.

“Is your cunt made of gold? I don’t know why he likes you so much but understand if you fuck this up I will kill you.” He slammed the door shut.

His words made you sick to your stomach. He knew he hadn’t given you anytime to prepare. You were half dressed, coat clutched around your shivering form, no makeup, hair unkempt. 

You tried to fix yourself up, using the reflection in the window. When you stepped out of the car you realized you hadn’t even been given the time to put on shoes. The cold bit at your feet, forcing you to hop to the door. 

You held the door handle, pressing your forehead to the cold metal and breathed deeply. It would be okay. It would be okay. You would survive this. Nik could be mean but he’d never been cruel to you. 

You opened the door and met his gaze. He was waiting for you in that little room. Deep bags under his eyes, stitches along his collarbone, bruises across his arms and chest. 

“We are both in a sorry state it seems.” His bottom lip jutted out lazily, his eyes dark and half closed. “Come here, Kotenok. I want to undress you myself.”

“I’m so-”

“Hush. Don’t talk. I’m too tired to listen.”

You walked up to him, keeping your gaze downward. He pulled your coat off your shoulders and you could smell the liquor on his breath. 

“No shoes…” He frowned, nudging your foot with his. He sighed and mumbled something in Russian while rubbing his temple. 

He was delicate as he took off your sweater, pulling it up and over your head. His hands ghosted down your front. He licked his top row of teeth and roughly pulled your jeans off your hips, not bothering with the button or zipper. He cupped your crotch, his fingers digging into the lower cleft of your ass cheeks. 

“I missed this pussy,” He growled. He grabbed your hand and shoved it into his sweatpants till you could cup his balls. They were hot and heavy in your hand. “You’ll take it all. Have lost time to make up.”

You yelped in shock as he wrapped his arms around your upper thighs and lifted you up into the air. He pulled your jeans the rest of the way off and laid you over his shoulder. 

He was drunker than you originally thought. You swayed with him as he carried you upstairs. He was talking in Russian, nothing you could even begin to decipher. 

In his bathroom, he dropped you, a bit harshly, onto the counter. He leaned against the counter, arms trapping you. “How many?”

“what?”

“How many men did they have you fuck while I was gone?” His angry growl betrayed the softness of his mouth against your collarbone.

“Too many,” you admitted, hands cascading down his back. He reared his head back, a scowl on his face. An ugly look that reminded you of a dog about to bite. You shrunk back, trying to convey a look of apology. “I didn’t have a choice. I would have pre-”

He pulled you off the counter, planting your feet on the floor and pushing you towards the shower. 

He shoved you face first against the tile wall before ripping your panties apart. You yelped harshly, jumping between your feet. You moved along the wall till you were in the corner. Behind you the water turned on. 

A thick, hairy arm wrapped around your middle and pulled you backwards into the water. You waited for teeth, an open palm, a fist. Pain, some way or another. Instead you found chapped lips and stubble brushing against your shoulder.

“I’ll clean you up.” He went down on one knee and guided your legs apart. He wet his fingers and pushed one inside you. His other hand rubbed the side of your thigh as he hooked his finger and felt around. Tears welled up in your eyes. 

You’d never been so naive to think Nikolai did his small kindnesses out of some affection. It was always for his own self interest. The food, the clothes, the prep, the baths. He liked his girls clean, fed and well dressed. It didn’t matter if it was you or not. 

This felt uniquely humiliating. He’d fuck a whore but only if she didn’t look or feel like a whore. He dug around inside you, trying to remove any trace of other men. You clenched your jaw so tight it felt like your teeth could shatter. You covered your mouth with your hand, muffling your own sobs. 

He scrubbed you down with a cloth next, his movements harsh against your skin. If he noticed your tears, he ignored them. When he deemed you clean enough he fucked you against the wall of the shower. 

It continued like that for the rest of the night. Him moving you around as he pleased before using you as he pleased. He eventually dumped you onto the bed and tossed a sheet over your body before collapsing beside you. 

You tucked your knees to your chest and fell asleep.

You didn’t wake again till the early afternoon. Nik had left a sweatshirt and ratty pair of jeans along with new underwear for you on the edge of the bed. There was water on the bedside table. 

It felt like you were in the minotaur’s maze as you headed downstairs. You tried to stay quiet, hoping he’d forgotten you were there. He still found you. Cameras probably. Called for you from the dining room. You peaked in, sheepishly. He curled two fingers, beckoning you closer.

“Too drab for my taste.” He tugged on the bottom of your sweatshirt. “We’ll go shopping today. I’m keeping you for the next couple days. I’m tired of calling my pet back and forth.”

You took the G-wagon. He’d given you an old pair of trainers at the door, chuckling about almost letting you out barefoot. You were too afraid to bring it up before then. 

“You can pick out what you want, as long as it's not ugly. No jewelry.” He said like this was all some casual thing. He pulled up in front of a large tan colored building with green awnings above every window. He tossed the keys to a valet and with a hand on your hip, walked the two of you in. 

You felt out of place among the tourists and wealthy patrons of the store. December was on the horizon so many seemed to be getting a head start on Christmas shopping. Nik clicked his tongue and you stopped your curious gazing to continue following him.

The two of you took an elevator to the fifth floor. A woman met you and took you to a private room. There was a velvet red couch, marble coffee table and a rack of clothes with a dressing room off to the side. 

“Alana has pulled quiet the collection for the two of you today.” She grinned with her best customer service voice. She picked up an Ipad from the table. “But we also have the digital catalogue available so we can pull anything else off the floor for you to try. We can also have almost anything from any of our restaurants delivered up here for you.”

Nik thanked her and took the ipad. It was just the two of you then.

“What do you want to eat?” He asked, already scrolling through the menu. 

“Huh?” You’d become distracted by the clothes. Brands you’d only heard of in movies and tv, materials that felt too expensive to touch. It was beautiful and overwhelming. Gifts like this didn’t come without a price. He already bought your body, owned you until his lease ended, what else could you possibly give him in exchange? “Oh…I’m sorry.”

You looked through the menu with him, surprised that a sandwich could cost twenty pounds or a piece of fish more than a hundred. You went with the sandwich, not keen on raising your debt any higher than necessary. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, holding a cropped grey sweater in front of yourself in the mirror. It was pretty and soft and there was no price on the tag. The embossed “L” logo of the brand told you that you didn’t want to know and that Nik wouldn’t care.  

“I’m not spending all this time with you inside and I can’t have you naked the whole time. As much as I’d like to.” He looked up from the ipad. “Try that one on.”

You made a move for the dressing room but he clicked his tongue.

“You already got me that dress. I don’t need more clothes.” You kept your back turned as you shrugged off the sweatshirt and replaced it with the sweater. It was a little small, if you lifted your arms too high your breasts would pop out. It was soft though and you liked the way it hung on your shoulders. 

“Do you ask why a child wants a new dress for their doll?”

“You’re not a child… I just don’t see the point.” You went back to looking through the rack.

“The point of me buying you clothes? Does there need to be one?”

“Men don’t keep women like me around for very long.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “I know this won’t last.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” He shrugged. He motioned towards the dress in your hand,“Try that on.”

“You pay for me.” You stopped yourself from reminding him that eventually he’d get bored in a month or so. All of this felt so wrong. It felt like he was toying with you. You weren’t stupid and you didn’t want to play some game with him like this. Picking out clothes that would either get thrown or passed on to the next girl he paid for.  

He set the ipad down. “Are you afraid of me?”

“Yes.” You were honest just like the first time he asked. 

“Last time you said no.”

“Last time I didn’t know you.”

“You still don’t know me. Now put on the fucking dress.” He snapped. You turned your back again. “Ah! Face me. I want to see what I pay for.”

You turned back around and pulled the sweater off before moving to pull the dress over your head. He had his hand resting on his crotch. He couldn’t resist a show of power. 

“Do you always put a dress on over your pants?”

You frowned and shucked your pants off. He looked bored as he watched. It was a tight fitting dress, black with long sleeves and crew collar and it was thin. You could see the outline of your breasts and nipples in the mirror. 

“I like that one.”

“I don’t.” You pulled it off and put it back on the rack. He sucked his teeth, clearly annoyed with you now. “You said I can pick what I want.”

“And I’ll still buy whatever I want you to wear.” He stood up and you backed up against the rack. He stalked over and leaned over, pressing his forehead against yours. “You don’t tell me no. If I wanted you to ride me right now you would do it. If I told you to get on your knees and suck me off, you’d do it. If I told you to go downstairs naked, you’d fucking do it. I like your little claws, Kotenok.” He grabbed your jaw, fingers digging into the fat of your cheeks. “But do not bite.”

He let go and grabbed a plaid skirt off the rack. “Try this on next.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon trying on clothes. He liked jewel tones and things that were secretly revealing. Thin material and skirts that showed your ass if you stretched or bent over. Heels, but not too tall. He liked to keep you at shoulder height and nothing higher. A woman came in and helped pick out makeup for you. 

“Find a good red for her. I like red.” Nik said, between bites of the steak he ordered. She found a red lipstick that matched your skin tone perfectly. She ended up putting together a set of products for you. He did let you pick out more comfortable clothes too which was nice.  

He paid using the ipad and all your selections, including the dress, were packed into dark green bags and carried out to the car. You left wearing the cropped sweater, a new pair of jeans and trainers and socks.

“Thank you.” You said softly on the elevator ride down. He didn’t respond, just pulled you to his side by the hip. 

When you got back to his place there was an older woman cleaning. He spoke to her in Russian and she began to take the bags of clothes upstairs. 

He shut the door to the living room and locked it behind you. 

“Take off your bottoms and bend over the couch.”

You did as you were told. It felt colder than usual. You looked over your shoulder to watch him make a drink for himself. He came up behind you and set the cold glass on the small of your back. 

“Why aren’t you grateful for all that I’ve done for you?”

“I thanked you for the clothes. I like them.”

“No,” he tutted. His crotch pressed against your ass. “You never thanked me for getting rid of that sack of shit.”

You swallowed uncomfortably. He was going to spank you again. Your muscles clenched up in anticipation. 

“Thank you.”

“I don’t believe you. Do you still miss him? Miss how he’d beat and rape you?” He picked up his glass and stroked your back like you were some skittish animal. His seemingly willful obtuseness about the nature of his own actions pissed you off. Like he hadn’t just said you weren’t allowed to say no to him or that every time you spread your legs for him it was under duress of an unspoken violence. He wasn’t a better man than Marcus just because he’d never tried to dislocate your shoulder. 

“I hate him.” You hissed. “I just didn’t want to see him die.”

“Watching someone you hate die is almost as good as sinking into a soft pussy.” He finished his drink and dropped the glass onto the couch. “It’s why I always fuck after I kill.”

His belt jingled and you closed your eyes. He took you like that, bent over the couch, the back of it digging into your hips as his hips smacked roughly against your ass. Once he was done he pulled your panties back up and heaved you up and over the back of the couch. You grunted as you untangled yourself.

He sat next to you and pulled your head into his lap. He batted your hands away from his cock. 

“Later. I’m too tired.” He played with your hair as he watched tv. 

You realized very quickly that he was a man of impulse when he was relaxed. He gave no warning when he’d decide he wanted to cum again, taking hold of your hand, head or body and moving it how he saw fit. 

You lost count of the days. It was easy to forget the kind of man Nik was and lull yourself into a sense of security. He kept you fed (literally fed you caviar on potato chips the other day and laughed when you gagged), kept you dressed (a mink fur coat arrived only a day after your shopping trip), and even made you cum (he liked to eat you out after drinking a bit too much). 

Other times it felt like he’d do things just to rile you up. Make you change in front of him, not let you wear clothes at all, hand feed you. He had John over a couple times, let the other man leer at you. Nik had you make drinks for them both and as you gave John his he pulled you into his lap and made jokes about renting you for the night. His hand up your skirt to prod at your ass just to complain about the lack of plug. You think Nik let him because it always ended with you curled up at his side. 

One night he fell asleep while you cockwarmed him. His arms around your middle and your head on his good shoulder (a doctor came to pull out the stitches but it was still sore). He started snoring  and you pulled a blanket over both of you. It was more intimate than you’d ever been with anyone, client or regular partner before that. When you closed your eyes you forced yourself to dream about a life where you were just his girlfriend. 

A stupid, dangerous dream. One that threatened to make you too complacent. You were still going to get out. You had the cash and now you had clothes and good trainers. You could do it. If he tipped you again for all this time you were spending together you could make it across the Atlantic or further. You wouldn’t see him or Arno ever again except hopefully on the news being walked into a courthouse.

You reminded yourself of this time and time again. 

Even when he had you on your back, legs slung over his shoulder and his sweaty forehead against yours. The head of his cock nuzzling against your cervix. 

“Kolya…please��fuck.” He had a vibrator tucked between the two of you and used his stomach to press it down harder against your clit. 

“I want to feel your little claws, Kotenok.” You held onto his forearms, nails digging into the muscle at his request. “Harder. Mark me up.”

There was something in his eyes. It was warm and happy. He peppered kisses across your cheek, rubbing his stubble against you when you turned away. There was already beard burn across your breasts and inner thighs. He captured your mouth with his, tongue dipping in. It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy it just one time. To let yourself separate from reality to enjoy affection. You kissed him back, sucking on his tongue. He tasted like mint and tobacco. 

“Want you to come on my cock.” You were close already. The vibrator making it almost unbearable. Your nails cut into his arm, leaving half moon cuts. You arched backwards with a cry, “Kolya!”

He bit down on your shoulder, growling as he came. He always fucked without any protection but it felt different this time. More possessive. 

“Ty moy navsegda.” He breathed, kissing along the fresh bite mark. 

“What does that mean?” You asked. 

“Means I could die inside you.” He sighed. 

It was a cold, late afternoon when you came out of the shower and found the thin black dress laid out on the bed for you. Beside it was a lacy black thong, no bra. 

“John got promoted. We’re going out to celebrate.” He was putting on a navy blue suit jacket and fixing his shirt cuffs. “Be quick about it.”

[asuyaka]

This one is for you, baby!

★ - hellooo!!! original idea comes from sanjisboyfie <33 (user s so real but m more of a Zoro guy ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ )

☆ - Basketball Player Gojo Satoru x Male Reader!

♡ - CW: homophobia but you and Satoru deal with it!

If there's anything to know about Gojo Satoru, the top scorer of the 'Jujutsu' basketball team, is that he has a boyfriend.

And God does he love [Name] to the ends of infinity and back.

It was a scandal when the press first saw you two technically three since Satoru's best friend Suguru was there too together, doing the unthinkable.

Holding hands.

Articles and Magazines came out with headlines like "Player for the Kaisen Basketball team, Gojo Satoru is gay?!" or "Should kids be allowed to watch Gojo Satoru play?" came out. Every time during a game, there would always be someone who, without a doubt, asked if the rumors were true.

Their coach, Yaga Masamichi, advised Satoru to stay neutral on the situation until it blew over. But if there's one thing Gojo Satoru is not good at doing, it's following orders.

So, he brought you to a game one day. Bout you a court-side seat (even though it was expensive as hell), and made sure you were wearing his jersey.

He was playing against an almost equally talented team, the 'Cursed' with their star player, Itadori Sukuna (older brother to the friend of Satoru's son).

Thirty seconds before the last quarter ended, the score was tied, 104 to 104. Satoru had the ball, dribbling it down the court as time seemed to move faster.

He passed to Suguru, running down to the three-point line to make the last shot of the game.

Your heart was thumping violently against your chest, hands gripping the hem of Satoru's jersey as you watched the ball swish through the net as the end-game buzzer went off.

Cheers immediately erupted from the crowd as the ball bounced on the floor two final times, securing the Championship for Satoru's team.

What he does next surprises you. Satoru and Suguru don't do their usual handshake after winning a game—no— he makes a beeline towards you, using his wide arms to pick you up by your waist, and then he kisses you.

On National TV, in front of several people, with absolutely no shame.

Satoru smiles at you, it's full of teeth and nevertheless beautiful before putting you down.

That was when the public knew about how kind Gojo Satoru could be when he was not on the court and the only person who managed to pull that personality out of him.

Back to the present, you're sitting court-side again, way after the game was over, relaxing on your phone while Satoru and Suguru were looking to see who could make the most free-throws to decide who was paying for their victory food.

It was pointless, really, because they're both rich as shit so the competition was stupid, and Suguru was most likely going to win since free-throws were how he scored points 96.99% of the time.

Your throat feels a bit parched from all the cheering you were doing, so you get up with a yawn, stretching your body and rubbing your eyes slightly. "I'm gonna go get something to drink, maybe use the bathroom too."

Satoru turns to look at you with a smile. "Use my card and be back quick! Watch me dunk on Suguru's head!"

A ball slams against the back of his hair, a loud laugh erupting from behind him. "You can't score on me, your defense is ass."

Satoru grabs the ball with new-found malice in his eyes. "One-on-one, right now. Loser has to post whatever the other says on their Twitter account."

Suguru smirks. "Bet."

You roll your eyes at their antics as you put on Satoru's jacket. Satoru is tall, much bigger than you so the sleeves fall right past your arms. It looks like a dress on you, but that's how most of Satoru's clothes look, you've gotten used to it.

You use the bathroom, rolling Satoru's sleeves up as you start to wash your hands. The door opens, and a man walks in.

It's a bathroom, people are obviously going to enter inside so you pay it no mind. It starts to raise a few flags in your head when the man stays there, too close for comfort as his shoulder brushes against yours.

"You're dating that gay dude, right?"

The question takes you by surprise. You slowly go back to drying your hands, looking at the man through the mirror with a blank look on your face. "Excuse me?"

The man scoffs. "Don't play stupid. Gojo? You're the gaybo that's dating him, right?"

Now, you aren't a rude person. You don't believe in violence and while you'll stand up for yourself when needed, you aren't one to sit down and let yourself get disrespected. "Yes, I'm dating Satoru. Is that a problem?"

The man's face contorts in obvious disgust before turning into something malicious. "Fuckin' thought so. Now that your little boyfriend isn't here, me and you can talk, right?"

You unroll Satoru's sleeves and pull up the zipper. "I'm not interested, thank you though." You respond in a passive-aggressive tone, moving towards the door before a hand pushes you back.

"I said, we're going to talk, right?"

Your face hardens and you cross your arms. "And I said, I'm not interested. Now if you excuse me, I have a boyfriend that's waiting for me on the court."

The man stands before the door, using his frame to block the exit. Instantly dropping the 'nice guy' act, he stares at you like you're dirt underneath his shoe. "I never understood why people are gay. You seriously like taking it up the ass?"

That's where this was going.

You rub your temples as a long sigh leaves your lips. "Okay, great, can I leave now?"

"Can't you understand what I'm saying?!" The man raises his voice. "You're supposed to like—"

"Listen man," You interrupt with a bored expression. "I really don't care what you think of my relationship. I love Satoru, Satoru loves me, we're happy. Now, if you don't have anything else you want to tell me, I'll be leaving now."

As soon as you reach for the door knob, it slams open, colliding the man (and your hand) with the wall.

You wince harshly as you wave it around, profusely blowing on it as if it'd relieve the pain. Satoru's expression turns from confused to concerned very easily.

"Baby? Oh shit, I'm sorry..." He shushes you softly, bringing your hand to the sink to run some cold water over it.

"I won, by the way, Suguru sucks at basketball." Satoru mutters softly, like he's trying to distract you from the throbbing pain in your hand.

You nod gently as the pain slowly subsides. It isn't all the way gone, but it's bearable enough for you not to feel it as much. Satoru notices easily, bringing your hand up to place a kiss on it. "Feelin' better?"

"Yeah... thanks Satoru."

He smiles—it's the smile he only uses with you, it makes your heart giddy— placing a kiss on your forehead as he takes your other (unbruised) hand, leading you outside the bathroom.

Suguru is waiting, plainly dressed in a black turtleneck and black cargo pants, tearing his eyes away from his phone when he notices the two of you.

Satoru takes his bags and your bag, briefly leaving his hand from yours as he slings them over his shoulder. He's quick to reconnect them, putting his signature glasses on his face. "Ready, Suguru?"

Suguru flips him off, stuffing his phone in his pocket and fishing out his car keys. "You two make me homophobic."

"T'aww," Satoru teases, using his elbow to nudge it into Suguru's bicep. "Suguru jealous that he's single? That he won't have the privilege of dating the beautiful, handsome, pretty, attractive, alluring, eye-catching—"

"Oh my God, shut up!"

You laugh softly, thanking Satoru as he opens the door for you, closing it when you're secured inside and quickly going to the seat beside you.

The pain is your hand becomes an after thought as Suguru and Satoru keep bickering over the tiniest things, like the car mist Suguru uses, to how cold it is, and Suguru's lack of a significant other.

You sigh. Why would you pay attention to the pain in your hand when you have your boyfriend to look at?

He's a beautiful man after all, a man that you love from infinity and beyond.

Stars in the sky ☆

@sanjisboyfie

[delcakoo]

i wish i was a baller ₊✩˚⊹ c.yj

ty @yenqa bae for the idea <3

SUMMARY ! being his longtime crush, when yeonjun and his pesky friends’ catch you walking past the court, he’s quick to try an impress you with one (un)lucky shot on hoop in exchange for your number.

PAIRING ! yeonjun x f!reader

WC ! 1.3k

GENRE ! cavity inducing fluff

a/n: c’mon now u have to listen to i wish after readin that title c:

“shit, look who it is yeonjun!”

the male in question was much too busy shouldering soobin to the ground, dribbling past his now groaning friend before slam-dunking his favorite orange ball through the hoop to listen to lame, old, beomgyu.

“let’s go!” yeonjun punches the air, running by his teammates to offer them high fives that they halfheartedly return. “another point for the yeonjunniez!”

“horrible fuckin’ team name,” taehyun murmurs, while kai only nods in tired agreement.

before yeonjun could force the group into another scrimmage, a strong hand grips his shoulder, redirecting him to face a barely visible figure that’s only steps away from reaching the basketball court’s end. beomgyu squeezes tighter, shaking him back and forth slightly. “don’t ignore me! you recognise who that is, right man?” squinting his eyes, yeonjun gasps as he takes in the familiar sight of your signature hairstyle and white headphones.

oh, he knew it was you alright. even if it was pitch black out — only street lamps illuminating the shady pathways — and you were clearly wearing all dark shades to blend in more, he knew.

“‘course, what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t know my girl when i see her?”

soobin, who’s still brushing off pebbles after his dramatic fall, rolls his eyes at the straight fibs coming out of his friend’s lips. “she barely knows you exist.”

“not for long.” before anyone could stop him or make him think at the very least, yeonjun has himself pressed against the chained wall of the court, fingers noisily locking through the metal in an attempt to grasp your attention. “y/n, is that you?”

when you swiftly turn at the sound of your name, looking adorably like a deer caught in headlights, yeonjun is reminded of just how head over heels he is.

“yeonjun..?” he’s never been so thankful to mr. sim assigning partners for projects, or else you still wouldn’t know your future boyfriend’s name! you look past him to take in the other boys who send you awkward waves, and yeonjun glares in annoyance at each and every one of them. what shitty wingmen.

“uh, yeah.. so, what’re you doing out here alone?”

with one more glance around the empty park, yeonjun nearly squeals as you begin walking closer, shoving your phone into your hoodie pocket smoothly. “j-just clearing my head i guess. what about you guys?” your stuttering gives him hope that perhaps you’re just as nervous as he is right now — leading a small smirk to etch across the boy’s lips.

“practising extra late since tryouts open soon,” he replies, gesturing to his friend group in the background. “they all kinda suck though.”

“thanks!” beomgyu spits back, but yeonjun could care less about his sarcastic comeback when it resulted in you letting out a soft chuckle. that was him by the way — he made you laugh!

in an attempt to give yeonjun more one on one time with you, the others had attempted to go back to playing (while still eavesdropping of course), but it was clear that their friend needed a little shove in the right direction.

taehyun moves closer, adjusting his black muscle top while offering you a mischievous grin. “say, y/n. if yeonjun here gets a three pointer, would you consider giving him your number?”

besides kai’s howling laughter in the distance, the court is frozen in tension, more specifically yeonjun — who’s jaw has practically dropped to his ass. this was not part of the plan, taehyun! attempting to bandage the wound, the raven haired boy smacks his friend, hoping the expression on your poor, confused face would falter at least a bit.

his ears burn bright red, and he can only pray the hood of his grey coat is deep enough to hide it. “i uh- sorry about that, you don’t— you don’t have to do anything—“

too busy manifesting some way to travel back in time and tape taehyun’s mouth shut, yeonjun fails to notice the amused smile creeping its way to your lips. “no, it’s okay. you can try if you want.”

soobin and beomgyu share a horrified glance, just how is this working?

yeonjun blinks, holding a bewildered yet determined look in his pupils. “i— you mean like, to shoot?” he blabbers in disbelief.

you shrug. “why not?” and before he knows it, the ball is forced into his grip by a snickering soobin, who attempts to relieve his friend’s shoulders that are tenser than he’s ever seen them with a swift massage.

little did he know that you found it almost as endearing as the way yeonjun’s teeth nibble onto his bottom lip as he gets into position, crouching with precision before jumping, releasing the basketball with a flick of his wrists.

the orange ball flies for a bit before landing right on the hoop’s ring, bouncing across it loudly, spinning around for a bit before—

“shit..” beomgyu murmurs in horror, watching how the ball flops pathetically off the side of the ring along with the other five pairs of eyes.

yeonjun refuses to believe this.

sinking down to his knees, nails frustratingly glide through his bangs while a pained groan leaves his lips. “i didn’t miss a single fucking shot earlier,” he winces, “but of course when it actually matters i fuck up.”

god, he was so cute — it was all you could think to yourself as you paced closer, squatting next to the boy’s destressed form all while lightly patting his shoulder. when yeonjun lifts his head, his eyes widen at the closeness of your face being mere centimetres from his. for a second, he thinks he might just pass out on the spot, up until you pull out a pen from your pocket, grinning cutely as usual.

when you open up your palm, it takes him a minute to realize you were asking for his hand.

ever so carefully, yeonjun places his hand in your grasp, breath stuttering at the feeling of his crush’s fingers wrapping comfortingly around his wrist. “what- what are you..” he gulps when you bend a bit closer to begin scribbling something right across the softness of his pale skin, glancing up at his friend’s with a face of utter disbelief who only give him an equally gobsmacked look in return.

suddenly, you’re releasing him and standing back to full height, pen being shoved casually into the embrace of your black hoodie as if you hadn’t just narrowly avoided giving the poor boy a heart attack moments prior. “yeonjun, i was gonna give it to you either way,” you snort.

wait, what? did he just go through the five stages of grief for nothing?

all he can do is watch with eyes gaped as you slowly march back towards the entrance, only snapping out of it when beomgyu pulls his arm up to investigate the nine numbers inked across his hand. “bro.. you did it.” he states it as if yeonjun had just solved world hunger, shaking his friend frantically.

“i.. i did it?” he repeats dumbly.

it seems as though he can’t get a break; now soobin’s the one pushing him towards the entrance. “go on, dipshit!” he exclaims, “it’s pitch black out there, walk her home!”

this has yeonjun’s expression changing from dumbstruck to full on panic, nearly tripping on his own shoelaces as he sprints out to catch up to your now-far-away form, grey hood falling off and finally revealing his bright red ears in the process.

there was no doubt that he looked insane — lighting or not. “she has him wrapped around her finger, huh?” kai can’t help but cackle once more.

soobin takes a shot, easily making a dunk with the help of his height before sighing in agreement. “oh, absolutely.”

if you enjoyed, reblogs and feedback’s always appreciated <3

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

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[daisynik7]

“Into you” by Fabolous for Connie Springer- smut + fluff

(S4 connie ofc)

Into You

I think you’re truly something special, just what my dreams are really made of

Pairing: Connie Springer x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: super fluffy, kinda cheesy, college au, modern day au, lots of basketball terms (applies specifically to NCAA and NBA), explicit language, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), implied creampie

Summary: You and Connie Springer have been close since childhood, growing up as next-door neighbors and best friends. The bond the two of you share is undeniable, but you’ve never been able to admit how deep your feelings are, either to yourself or to him. You continue to support him as his friend while he pursues his career as a basketball player, trying to get drafted into the NBA. Though the journey has its ups and downs, one thing is for certain: The two of you will always have each other, forever and ever. 

Author’s Notes: Hi anon! Thanks so much for requesting this song for the y2k karaoke party because it’s one of my FAVORITES! It really gives me Love & Basketball vibes, another favorite of mine that also happens to be a classic in the y2k era. This little fic is very loosely based off of that, so I hope you enjoy! Also, all the basketball/NBA tidbits are mostly from being with my boyfriend, who is a huge NBA fan, so yeah, sorry if any details are inaccurate lol. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! MDNI banner credit to @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest (Slam Dunk manga).

“You have to pinky promise, okay?” Connie sticks his tiny finger out, wiggling it in front of your face, sucking on his cherry-flavored lollipop, lips and tongue-stained red. You’re both five years old, sitting cross-legged in the front of his yard, taking a break from playing hide-and-seek.

“What am I pinky promising?” you ask, voice squeaky and curious.

“That we’ll be best friends forever and ever! No matter what!” he exclaims, beaming at you with his eyes wide, twinkling earnestly. 

You only need to think for a few seconds before you’re hooking your pinky with his, committing to this promise for the rest of your lives. 

~~~

Ten years later, Connie makes it on the varsity basketball team in your high school. It’s rare for a freshman to make it to varsity at Ragako; the coaches must have seen that spark in him that you and his family have witnessed since he started playing at ten-years-old. You used to shoot around with him out in his driveway, where his father set up a little hoop. Eventually, the little one got upgraded to a real one, where the height was adjusted appropriately as Connie grew. You became his practice partner, no longer able to compete with him. Instead, you passed him the ball, watching in awe as he made shot after shot, sometimes deep from the street. He’d pick you up and spin you around, the two of you cheering together, impressed by his skills.

Year after year, he only improved. The way he handled the ball, expertly dribbling it between his legs, behind his back, one-handed, without looking. Or the way his feet gracefully shuffled along the court, the distinct squeak from his shoes echoing off the walls as you watch him on the bleachers, playing three-on-three against some of his buddies at the gym. One time, his friend Jean teases you. “You know, you should stop hanging around here or else people might think you’re his groupie.”

Before you can think of a smart comeback, Connie interjects, shoving Jean hard in the arm. “Hey! Leave her alone. I want her here. I only play like this when she’s around. And she’s not a groupie. She’s my best friend.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders, leading you towards the exit while Jean sputters apologies that go ignored. “Sorry about that,” he whispers to you. “Jean is an asshole. I want you around, got it? Forever and ever.”

You smile, leaning into him. “Forever and ever.”

~~~

It’s at the championship game during senior year that you realize that you’re in love with Connie.

Scouts have already contacted him about full-ride scholarships to university, recruiting him for their team. He’s the most celebrated point-guard in your school’s history, his average points and assists per game breaking records. Ever since he joined, your school has made it in the final round each year, last year resulting in a win, this year leading to a second. 

With seconds left on the shot clock, tie game, Ragako with possession, Connie makes his move. He inbounds the ball to his teammate, quickly taking position at the right wing, his sweet spot. As quickly as it leaves his hands, the ball is passed back to him. He shoots it, and as it flies out from his fingers into the air, the buzzer rings, and he makes it. The crowd goes wild; one side of the bleachers erupting into a frenzy, jumping up and down with excitement. Connie’s parents hug each other first, then surround you in their arms, elated. You don’t expect him to celebrate the win with you, not with his entire team huddling around him, splashing water on his head, cheering his name. Not with all the cheerleaders and fans gravitating toward him, eager to be in the presence of a sure-to-be star in the making. So, it surprises you when you see him maneuver his way through the crowd, heading straight towards you. He pounces on you, giving you the biggest, sweatiest hug with tears streaming down his face. It’s a split second where the surrounding noise goes blank and it’s just the two of you there, basking in each other’s warmth. Soon, his parents join you, also crying happily, and it’s in this moment that you realize this is where you want to be: with him. Forever and ever.

~~~

It's no surprise that the two of you attend the same college together. Most people will see it as you following him, but in actuality, Connie agrees to go wherever you go. Lucky for you both, your top choice is a D1 university where he’s offered a scholarship to play for their basketball team. It works out perfectly, as if it were meant to be. 

He’s busy from the get-go, practicing every day until the season starts in November. You become preoccupied with classes, and naturally, the two of you travel your different paths, meeting in the middle whenever you can. When the season official starts, you attend all his home games, cheering for him from the sidelines surrounded by the other students also chanting his name. Weeknights, he’s often too tired to hang out, retreating to his dorm room to fall asleep, only to repeat his busy schedule again the next day. He grows close with his teammates, spending most of his time with them instead of you, which is to be expected. After all, you and Connie are just friends. Sure, you’re completely and madly in love with him, but he’ll never know that. So, you watch from afar as he pursues his career without you in the way. It’s the way it has to be. 

By the time spring semester rolls around, you and Connie barely see each other. You’ll still text, sometimes video chat or talk on the phone. He mostly vents to you about teammates or coaches that have gotten on his nerves that day. He’ll catch you up on the other schools they’ve defeated or the ones that they’ve lost to. Your school’s record is quite good thanks to Connie, who’s only gotten better since high school. If they continue at this rate, they will win the conference tournament, meaning a trip to March Madness, the most prestigious competition in college basketball. Most importantly, it’s one step closer to the NBA.

As expected, the team does win the conference tournament. That night, the entire campus is lively with students buzzing in school spirit, ready to party the rest of the weekend. All you think about is calling Connie to congratulate him, hear his voice and tell him that you’re so proud of him. You debate with yourself for nearly fifteen minutes, staring at his name on your screen, fingers so close to dialing his number. You decide not to go through with it, certain that he’s too busy with his team, too busy with his fans. He’s not thinking about you, not when his whole world is about to change. And you can’t blame him; you’re just friends, and this is the way it has to be.

The following night, your school organizes an impromptu homecoming for the basketball team, welcoming them as they arrive on the bus, fresh from their championship win. They have a  couple days of rest before they leave for the NCAA tournament, but you’re sure they’ll be busy with press and practice until then. You’re not there to greet them when they step off the bus; instead, you’re sulking in your room, buried under the covers, feeling sorry for yourself for ever falling in love with Connie Springer. It’s a sad, pathetic sight, but at least you’re alone for the weekend to do it while your roommate is out visiting her boyfriend out of town. 

You’re surprised to see Connie’s name flash on your phone a few hours later. You let it ring twice before answering. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” he asks. There’s shuffling in the background, as if he’s walking outside. 

“I’m in my room.”

“I’m coming over now.” He hangs up, not giving you any time to respond. You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.

When you open the door to let him in, he wraps his arms around you in a snug embrace. “I missed you.” He pulls off to hold you by the arms, glaring. “Why didn’t you greet me off the bus?”

“I…” you start, unsure how to respond. 

“I was looking for you and you weren’t there. Where were you?”

“I was studying in the library.” This might be the first time you’ve ever lied to him. You feel guilty and gross. 

“Oh,” he says sadly, still staring at you. 

“Congratulations, by the way. It was an amazing win.” You give him a weak smile, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. You don’t even know why you’re crying; Connie did nothing wrong. You’re letting your emotions get the best of you, and you can’t help but crumble in front of the only person who knows you better than you know yourself. 

“I don’t care about that right now. I care about you. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Connie, I promise.”

“Don’t promise me shit like that. I know you’re upset. Tell me. Please.” His eyes search yours, desperate for an answer. 

You look at his feet, fixating on his shoes, scuffed on the sides from playing. Tears start to drop from your face and on the carpet. “I just…I missed you too. I miss you, Connie. I…I love you.” The confession slips from your mouth in a sniffle, and you’re so upset with yourself for letting it slide in this crucial moment. Neither of you needs the drama of your unrequited love right now. Not you, knowing he’ll be leaving again soon, and especially not him, who has bigger and better things to focus on. 

He gapes at you, stuttering, “You love me?”

You nod, biting your lip.

“Like, love love? Or love like a friend?”

You’re tempted to lie, just to make it easier. But you owe it to Connie to be honest with him. “Love love.”

His mouth is open, eyes bugging out, completely shocked by your admission. Before he can respond, you add, “I’m sorry, Connie. I shouldn’t have told you this right before the tournament, but…I don’t know. It just came out. I’m sorry.”

He stammers, “You’re sorry? This is the best fucking thing I’ve heard in my entire life.” He breaks into a smile, laughing hysterically, an even more bizarre reaction. 

You cross your arms, getting impatient with his ridiculous behavior, eventually grabbing his shoulders to shake him out of his fit. “Connie, what the hell?!”

He wipes his eyes, crying from giggling, beaming at you. “I’ve been in love with since we were kids. Been dreaming of hearing you say that since we were five-years-old.” He hugs you tightly, nuzzling his nose to the top of your head. “I love you and I want to be with you. Forever and ever, right?”

You nestle into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent you missed since he’s been gone. “Forever and ever.” 

~~~

The two of you spend the night together, making love for the first time. His lips are soft against yours, and you smile into his kiss, remembering the day you pinky promised that you’ll be best friends forever and ever, no matter what. His lips were stained red with cherry-flavored candy, looking sickly sweet as he smiled at you. And as you kiss him now, he tastes just as sweet as you imagined he’d be after all these years. 

You kiss him sloppy as you ride his lap, his cock buried deep in your pussy, filling you up to the brim. He moans your name into your mouth as he laps at the saliva collecting on your tongue, slurping your spit, swallowing it thickly. “Fuck,” he groans, hands gripped to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his thighs. “I’ve dreamed about this for so long, baby. So long.”

“Me too,” you whisper, starting to bounce on him, close to your climax. 

“What would you think about? Tell me,” he demands, thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing it raw.

You whine from his touch, increasing your pace, resting your head on his shoulder. “You and me, just like this,” you huff, short of breath. 

“Yeah? You thought about me deep inside you, huh? Fucking this sweet pussy until you come all over my cock, huh?” He thrusts up into you, grip tightening, fingers digging into your flesh. He’s close too, you can feel it.

You moan into his skin, sweat beading on your forehead, throwing your ass back against him in tandem with each pump of his cock. A few more strokes and the two of you come together, the mess spilling onto the sheets as soon as he pulls out. 

He wipes you down with tissues and baby wipes you have handy on your bedside drawer. As soon as you’re both clean, he cradles you in his arms, spooning you from behind. 

“I know this is going to sound super cheesy, but I truly feel like a winner now,” he says, kissing the nape of your neck. 

You chuckle, squeezing his hand in yours. “Wait until you win March Madness. Then you’ll really be a champ.”

“Even if I lose, I’ll still have you. And that’s been my dream all this time.” 

You shift your body to face him, gazing into his eyes. “I thought your dream was to make it into the NBA?”

He smiles, booping you on the nose. “It’s part of the dream, sure. But I wouldn’t be anywhere near where I am now if it wasn’t for you. You kept me going all these years. Knowing you were always on my side gave me the strength I needed to get here. As long as I have you, I’ll be living the dream.” He kisses you on the forehead. “I’m going to love you for the rest of our lives.”

“Forever and ever?”

“Forever and ever.”

~~~

In an upset, your school loses in the Final Four. It’s the furthest they’ve gotten in university history, and a large part of that is due to Connie and his extraordinary performance as their point guard. His efforts do not go unnoticed; his coaches and many prospective agents have contacted him, encouraging him to apply for the NBA draft. 

June of the same year, Connie Springer is drafted tenth in the first round and you’re sitting right beside him with his parents, cheering for him. Just as you have throughout all these years, and just as you will for the rest of your lives. Forever and ever. 

[ladylaviniya]

The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 5 || MasterList || Chapter 7

Chapter Summary: You get the ultimate privilege of meeting Nicholas Tortano who grants you the ability to surprise August Walker

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Sexual tension, P in V intercourse, fingering, petnames, dubious consent, hate sex, rough sex, gun violence, threats with a gun, forceful handling, belittling, manipulation The reader vomits and is kissed briefly at some point. Mentions of dacryphilia, sadism.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: .I dont honestly know but it's definitely more than 6k

Author Notes: the chapter and editing process was very rough I'm very sorry full stop my life has been in a business because I'm trying to find a new place to live and I've started going to the gym and missing out on a lot of sleep. I'm about to pass out which is why I'm posting this now. Again sorry for any mistakes granrma and otherwise

Inspiring Song: "girl with one eye " Florence and the machine. (Yes I know it's a sapphic song- I sing it like every day but let me have this pass to add it in)

08:09am Monday 19th August 2024, Robertson, Brisbane.

'What the hell is she thinking?'

Henry shook his head as he reached the complex exit and walked out onto the street to the waiting car.

He wanted to smirk but the frowning scowl would not drop from his face.

'If I was anyone else, God what I'd do to her-' his hand clenched the passenger side door handle hard and slammed loudly behind him. His eyes shut and his head tossed while the car swayed and rocked.

Jude, his driver and loyal friend smirked, “You must like this one...or is there a pile of meat up in that apartment that I need to fetch? I can call Riggan the pig farmer in the Lockyer Valley, anything left over he can throw in Wivenhoe dam.”

August sighed and chuckled, "She's alive and well. No sweet treat for Coles piggies...but...I need you and Wesley to look into the Pig she has been accompanying."

Jude smiled and leaned over, clicking the button of the glove box compartment. Inside was a yellow envelope. August's eyes fluttered before his face broke out into a grin.

"You are a fine friend Jude," he said as he plucked the envelope and spilled the printed notes out onto his lap, "Do you ever sleep? Jesus mate."

The raven hair man giggled and started the car to a silent hum.

As the driver put a hand behind Augusts car seat and reversed the car out onto the main roads he smugly said, "I take pride in investigating, especially bastards like him."

August's fingers flicked through the pages of graphic intel. With racing eyes he soaked up the words and photos. Lloyd Hansen...an absolute moron. His nose flared at what he was reading. He grit his teeth. Especially when he recognised a name in bold he hadn't thought about in at least half a decade.

"Well, well, well, he's got kittens for sale," August scoffed.

Jude hummed, "And meddles in the dogs pack, it would seem little Nicky is out of the jailhouse."

Both men smirked. But August was by no means pleased.

He was grumbling to himself. You were now sticking your toes into the deep end of the pool without floaties and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to catch you in time for the dunk.

Entering his club, sneaking in with the detective, he didn’t think you were dumb enough to think you’d distract him... He read through your charade the moment his eyes laid down on you from above walking in with that man.

His eyes and ears were turning red.

It was tricky but thankfully he had the means to warning that cop not to touch what belongs to him...however how close could he really get to that bastard without potential outlash. He knew he needed to order another grandeur meeting. While everyone was in town, it might be his only opportunity.

When August forced you to watch the murder of the embezzler, he had every hoping intention that it would persuade you to never talk to the cop again. A normal undercover pig would’ve stopped the show then and there, called back up.

But there was no back up...no...there was only sweet little innocent you and your pathetic phone camera. If Lloyd was after information he would’ve wired you up...Lloyd wasn’t there for him...he was there for some selfish reason...

When you ran off and pulled the alarm a dozen things went through his head. You were going to get yourself killed if you kept running. So he chased you. If the other men of his circle saw August Walker hunting, they would have been inclined to hunt you down too. And if they caught you...they would have done more than rip your head off.

He couldn’t tell you. He wasn’t sure how. You were already distrusting and scared of him there was no way he would be able to explain all the details and with your pure heart, you wouldn’t understand his world and why his side of the fence did such heinous things.

But...he would keep you safe. He wanted to gain your trust while not mistaking his authority...he knew what he had done was traumatizing.

He was no stranger to rape. Especially the european parties...those special events where he would join his friends like Kenny Strong and Arthur Kingsley ran the highlife of elite gentlemen and some lucky women born into those elite families. He wasn’t entirely fond of the practice. He didn’t like to beat women, but he did love to tie them up and humiliate them to tears.

Something about crying made his cock hard- no, something about you crying did...

He made you cry and he tried to bend you to his whims...he had already begun the conditioning where you would call him Daddy to gain his affection and praise. It pleased him significantly. He would shield you from those terrible memories even if it meant torturing you into talking about them. Externalising, confessing, it was all a form of therapy and he knew he had finally cracked the surface of your mind. He wouldn’t break you but he would chop at you and cut the mould. He would heal you. He would rebuild you and give you all the happiness you could ever want.

Sitting back and shoving those papers into the glove box he licked his bottom lip in thought.

When he woke up that morning, he watched you sneak out of the room. He smiled and amused himself. He watched the cameras from his phone. You were in his room...now that was very silly...he watched you choose his shirt and his shorts. He bit his lip to hold back a laugh. You looked so confident but so ...innocent...particular. He watched you grab a knife from the kitchen, he half heartedly believed you were coming back to stab him.

When your hands reached for the glass doors he launched up. He hadn’t warned you about Kal and he knew that dog could rip a man up, probably kill you easily if his fangs cause your wrist or neck.

He wanted to spank you and fuck you hard until you screamed mercy for trying to run away.

Rather he chose a simpler and easier punishment, one you essentially consented to the night before. Watching you suck cock was an interesting spectacle. There was a certainty you’d never done it before or not that many times before.

As you gagged on his cock with those big beautiful eyes of yours, he imagined all the things he’d buy for you...all the things he’d do for you... You might’ve been on your knees but something screamed at him to serve you as a slave.

Jude broke the silence eventually. He smirked, “So, am I right? You like this one?”

August smirked back, “’Like’ isn’t a word I’d be using.” He was fucking obsessed.

09:06am Monday 19th August 2023, Woolloongabba, Brisbane

You didn’t make a call. You couldn't. August broke your phone as you recalled.

You showered and scrubbed your face until you could feel the slight peel of your skin. It stung, but it was better than the sting you felt from the memory of his cum over you...in your mouth. You brushed your teeth for probably fifteen minutes just to erase the muscle memory of his cock brushing the back of your throat.

You changed out of August’s clothes and threw them into the bin. You couldn’t take off the collar and it made you feel suffocated. The kitchen scissors managed to scratch up the leather but the metal ring that encased inside was too strong.

You shook your head and felt nausea rise in your belly again. Without any food, all that came out was bile and acidic spit. You fell to your bedroom floor and started hitting the carpet, awful noises of grief and need bellies from you. You felt strangled. You huffed and spat random threats and insults, pretending he was there to hear them...he...August or your father? It didn’t matter.

You clenched your fist and smacked your head trying to regain your thoughts.

You kicked your dresser and rose from the floor. You found your bus pass and left the apartment, walking out in some jeans and a loose tshirt with a pair of running shoes.

The bus trip wasn’t a far trip to the police station.

You didn’t have the intention to report the kidnapping. No, no...now you were pissed off. You were scorned more than once by men around you. There was only one person you could trust in this world.

“Hi,” said the administration clerk, “How can we try an help today?” You fought the urge to roll your eyes, 'oh bitch if only you knew.'

“I’m after Detective Lloyd Hansen, is he here?”

You needed to confirm if the man was still alive. When you pulled the alarm, things were run or die in that moment. You hoped the man had the wit to run instead of confront the mafia or whatever this criminal group was.

The office was feeling slower today. It was filled with idle chatter and coffee machines grinding beans and a printer scanning documents.

“Do you have an appointment today?” she hummed, tapping at her keyboard.

You blinked and your teeth sneered.

You almost strangled that worker with the telephone cord. No. You didn’t have an appointment.

You just wanted to see he was alive. To tell him you were alive...and to collect your fifteen thousand promised reward for your “services”.

Your hands uncontrollably slapped on the desk cause the admin clerk to roll a little away in their office chair.

“I want to see the detective, now.”

“It’s alright Sandra...I can see her...” Lloyd said behind you. You flipped around. He was coming out of a small cubicle.

He looked...tired...shocked...relieved. it was all over how he looked with his loose tie, bags under his eyes and the clench of his hands on some paperwork.

He slowly stood to you and guided you away from the service desk. He whispered, “The white corolla...I’m about to finish shift.”

09:14am Monday 19th August 2024, Sunnybank, Brisbane.

You remembered his car well. The day he drove you home, you were so scared and confused. That day you’d reported that August may have sexually assaulted you...that day he definitely did...

This time you weren’t waiting in the cold for Lloyd, the sun was hot and beating down.

He came jogging down the front stairs of the station and hastily unlocked the car.

You wordlessly slipped in and buckled up.

When he got in he slammed his door a little too hard. He pressed his face to the top of his wheel and swore softly.

“I thought,” he swallowed nervously and sat up to look you up and down, “I thought he really had killed you. I tried calling thirty fuckin times these last two days. What happened? Were you hiding?”

Two days....god...you had been gone, missing, for that long?! Missing Friday...return Sunday.

You shook your head, “I was the one who pulled the alarm Lloyd...he knew what we were doing...he was going to kill you. When I made a run for it like everyone else in the club, he managed to track me down...he...” you trailed off unsure if you wanted to repeat the actions, the words, the confession.

Licking your lips you said, “August Walker is a dead man walking...and...” your stomach started to growl, “I’m starved, and I’m sorry to be bitchy but you...you at least owe me a meal Lloyd.”

Two days...you had only a few pieces of chicken in two days. No wonder you felt like total crap.

Lloyd didn’t argue. He took you straight away to the closest fast food drive thru. You ordered so much and Lloyd didn’t dispute a single item. He settled for a simple burger, fries and larger soft drink.

Lloyd drove you both to the kangaroo point lookout, it wasn't too far from where you already live. You stared out at the city buildings and Brisbane River with a strained sigh.

You chewed silently on a nugget for a moment before you explained what happened. How you were caught, how you almost got away...

“Jesus,” Lloyd rubbed his eyes and sighed, “I...I think I...I’m sorry I took you for granted Y/N. When I left the building I search everywhere for you. I thought...well- I didn’t know what to think.”

You munched on a handful of fries, you didn’t care if you looked like a pig as you did it. Stuffing your cheeks full of a burger and then a massive gulp of an extra large drink. You swallowed and thrived off the heart burn aching in your chest, reminding you you’ve eaten too quickly.

You burped and then softly moaned, “I need to feel safe.”

“You need to move...Y/N please,” The begging in his tone was loud and clear. There was serious fear in Lloyd.

You wouldn’t submit to August Walker and you refused to run from him. You were now met with the choice...you were either going to destroy his reputation or literally destroy him....your blood pumped loudly. He made you talk about your father....your fucking father...and on top of that, he made you call him daddy.

What mind fucked you was how you were yet again able to walk away...not unscathed but definitely alive.

“No,” you dismissed unwrapping your second burger, “He will find me...I know he will...and even if he kept me alive both times, a third is pushing my lucky, I know you understand that.”

Lloyd shook his head at you and put his hand over your burger, stopping your next starved bite, he hissed “You think staying where you are is safer? You don’t know-“

“Lloyd!” You snapped, you slapped his hand back and shoved your pointer finger into your chest, you sucked down a shakey breath, “...I know...I do know. I need to protect myself when he strikes again...it’s worse now...I have too much collateral... He let me witness that murder in the club.”

The detective raised his brows at you, “You mean...” the blood drained from his face.

“Cameras were in the VIP rooms Lloyd,” you grit your teeth and glared at the view of the city buildings, “I saw a lot more than just a fucking man’s brains being blown out from his skull, hookers, coke... Auctions...he’s got it all in The Lion Lounge.”

The detective rest his fingers on his top lip. He was slowly nodding.

You sucked down a long drag of your straw and gasped, asking in the same breath, “Lloyd I want a gun. I won’t let him rape me again.”

You needed the protection from August or any man he sent to kill you.

Lloyd chewed his bottom lip and shook his head.

“Do you have a gun license?”

“Do I look like I have one?” you snipped. You knew it wasn’t fair on him for your attitude but you didn’t have the time to focus on his hurt feelings in regards to your mental health and physical safety.

“Have you ever even shot one?”

“Nope. But it only takes one shot to kill him close up.” You threw the wrapper out of his car window and rubbed your face.

If he didn’t come near you, he would be safe, and you could just work on collecting evidence for the courts.

The detective sucked his bottom lip and shook his head, “It’s too dangerous.”

“Oh piss off!” You stomped your foot and twisted your body to face him, you grabbed his loose tie and tugged it as you seethed, “Lloyd, you practically thrust me into his arms and you have the gall to say now, me owning a gun is ‘too dangerous’?”

He gently grabbed your wrist and pulled his tie out of your fingers as he shook his head at you. His nose flared and he started to raise his voice at you, spit flying from his mouth as he hit the wheel with the palm of his hand. You expected a detective to hold a little more composure.

“Fine. Fine! But are you really willing to go to prison for life if you do manage to kill him? Think about this logically.”

His eyes were wide and his brows twisted with worry.

You fell quiet. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to stamp your foot again and scream that you’d spend two lifetimes behind bars if it meant his demise...except...was your demise worth the cost of his? Would you drown with him in the end of all of this if you killed him.

You noisily sucked at your straw.

“No...” you whispered, you didn’t want to cry in front of Lloyd but your tears were coming up, beading in the dips of your lids.

“No, that’s right,” Lloyd rubbed your shoulder with his thumb, “He isn’t worth it.”

Your lip pouted, “Why can’t you just...arrest him.”

He sighed and rubbed your back as you started to break down into pathetic frustrated sobs.

“Lawyers, laws and money,” he whispered and fluttered his eyes shut, “He has his ways. The only way we can take him down is if he is caught doing the hefty, big crimes. If I could’ve gotten the proof of the weapon dealers he would’ve been considered accomplice to the crime.”

“S-so if...if you..” you wiped you snotty nose on the back of your arm, “If he was caught on camera...he’d be sent to prison?” You started to laugh mechanically, “What if...what if I let him rape me. A nanny cam on my night stand or something?”

The office shook his head for the dozenth time, “By the law that wouldn’t be considered rape...only a messed up porno, especially if they see you set up the camera.”

Your fingers aggressively clenched another handful of fries, you didn’t eat them, you just threw them back into the bag.

“...I...what do I do Lloyd?” A fear of hopelessness tapped your brain.

He was quiet for a solid minute. He stared at you all over. You knew the bruise on your face was visible. He kept looking at your cheek instead of your eyes. And his gaze fell down to your neck. “It’s a collar Lloyd...he chained me to a bed for two days...”

His lips parted and with a impatient voice he asked, “Do you have a gym membership?”

“No? Why?”

He started his car and made you put your seat belt back on, “Okay, I don’t care, you’re getting one, right now."

Your eyes shrunk, “Why?”

Lloyd gruffly snarled, “Because I’m going to teach you how to fight.”

He would teach you at least some self defence. August might’ve been twice your size but if you could get the chance to get away...Lloyd would make sure you would take it..

05:30pm Monday 19th August 2024, East Brisbane Anytime Fitness Gym, Brisbane.

“Again.”

Your back hit the padded wall, your knees hit the floor as you cupped your middle and tried not to puke up the fast food from earlier.

“We have been at this for three hours!” You groaned, trying to use the foam wall to stand up again.

You were convinced Lloyd liked to beat you around, the red marks and bruises that were rising were the evidence.

“Until you can take me down,” Lloyd nudged you with his hand causing you to almost fall back down, “We aren’t leaving.”

You hissed angrily and stood up tall “Fuck sake.”

You held up your arms like he showed you. He started throwing his blows, you blocked him with your forearms and ducked away from his large swipes. He kicked your ankle and watched you crumble to the ground again.

“Watch your feet.” He scolded, “You are smaller and surprisingly speedy, use that to your advantage!”

You rolled your eyes and bit your lip. Getting to your feet you pushed up and launched your body at Lloyd who was checking out one of the yoga classes in the other room window.

He crashed to the floor. Your knees straddled his hips as you huffed with glee, “Ha! Home time!” your palms rested on his naked sweaty chest.

He chuckled and shook his head. He pushed you up by your hips. He shut his eyes, panting, “Again...then home time.”

You grumpily groaned, “Fine!” your ribs hurt bad and your knees felt swollen.

It was agreed by you both that if you needed to reach out you needed to use a burner phone or a payphone. Any calls or emails were going to be noticed.

When you felt the spray of the hot shower water at home, you cried. It felt good. You touched the collar still around your throat. Training to protect yourself reminded you the pain was worth it.

10:16am Wednesday 21st August 2024, Brisbane CBD

“Mr Luther, I’m so sorry for not calling in sick,” You wrung your hands in front of your boss, “Please forgive me for the unwarned absence.”

“Please!” He laughed heartedly, “I just assumed you were clicking some more photos!” He stood out from his chair and sat on his desk above you, “Did you hear about Walkers club almost burning down?”

Looking down at your lap, you reminded yourself that Mister John Luther was not a man included in the circle of trust. Nor were you convinced he understood the severity of the crimes the criminals he wanted to chase for gossiping stories committed. Your hand touched the ends of the scarf you wore, covering up the hideous black leather around your neck. You tried all morning to cut it off with a pair of scissors but you came to feel the metal circlet inside and gave up. There was a hole in one of the bottom cabinets where you had kicked in a hole...that was okay, you had an extra fifteen thousand pounds in your bank account.

You assumed Lloyd finally sent the money through.

“Did it?” you coyly asked.

“No clue how damaged the place was but the massive party was cancelled. The fire engines went zooming down this street Friday night.”

“What happens now then?” You glanced up at him and chewed the inside of your cheek, “With the smuggling case?”

“Put on hold for now,” he sighed and squeezed your shoulders, “I don’t have any sources about the next possible meet and greet. I was hoping you could keep the same production rolling. I have a new project involving a Nicholas Tortano. I want to get an interview with him.”

You didn’t recognise the name at all. Your fingers pinched at your long sleeve shirt. “An interview?”

Luther nodded, he winked and went back to his desk draw, slapping out a manilla folder.

He rubbed and clapped his hands, pushing and opening the new case to you.

“He has a history of his employed persons going missing. He has criminal history ties with Irish gangs and the italian mafia. I have a page of questions, I would like someone to ask him.”

You cleared your throat, “Me?”

Wagging his finger the elder man laughed, “No one has quite the balls as you deary...”

It sounded...Too dangerous.

“In that case,” you shuffled forward in your chair, “Can I be paid upfront for this job?”

You would not die at the hands of one gangster when you had your eyes set on another. Luther almost looked like he was going to tell you to get the fuck out of his office until he looked at your photos of August you’d taken. He was quickly reminded you had the best skills and to lose you would be suicide for his paper... You were the best thing to have happened to him. He accepted.

You sat in your work cubicle and aggressively jabbed at the key pad of your work phone. It’s not hard to find phone numbers. Nicholas Tortano had a nickname, “The Black Dog.” He was caught by paparazzi coming out of court a few times. His business empire related to charities. He was a philanthropist with a dirty history of crime connections. He had only been found guilty of third degree murder but many news articles in the past twenty years all labelled him as a omen of death, because anyone that had done him wrong was found dead not too long after...

You found the phone number and took a lucky gulp. There wasn’t an address for any business so if no one picked up, you were worried Idris might fire you for that mere disappointment alone.

The phone rung out once. You dialled again, the receiver picked up. You held your breath.

“Hello, Tortano and associates, who is calling?” the masculine tone soothed out.

“Hello, my name is Y/N Y/L/N, I’m a journalist from the local paper. Is there a chance I may be able to book an interview with Nicholas Tortano?”

There was a steady silence and a soft hum, “What does this pertain to?”

You rubbed your eyes and looked over the notes Luther had given you in the folder, “....People think he is ‘a mass murdering psycho with a thirst for crime’, I’m hoping to ask him some questions to seek the truth.”

“How ludicrous,” the man chuckled, “I am a gentleman. A businessman. Not a criminal.”

You strained over the phone as you spoke to the secretary, “I am sure but this is in regards to Mister Tortano.”

The phone went quite again, you thought maybe you’d lost the connection.

The sweet condescending waved through the sound, “I am he...are you free today for lunch?”

With widened eyes your voice caught in your throat. You felt like an idiot...you never imagined he would answer the call to his own company. CEOs never answer the call of a civilian first hand...

You cleared your throat and nervously clicked a pen, “I am, where would you like to conduct this meeting.”

You could hear him click something too. He sounded warm, and inviting on the phone, “Do you like Italian? Have you ever heard of Vapianos?”

A tiny smile touched your lips. When was the last time you were asked out to lunch? Your eyes rolled, for fuck sake, this was a job...not a date.

“I don’t mind it.”

11:54pm Wednesday 21st August 2024, Brisbane CBD, Vapianos.

Nick Tortano had invited you to a side of town with skyrise buildings. The Vapianos restaurant was on the bottom floor of some massive buildings.

You wrapped your scarf around your neck again. The leather was tight around your throat. It was like he was there with you...holding you...as you cried over a father that you loved and hated.

You shook your head and looked down at the notebook and piece of paper you were given by Luther.

You looked around at the tables and the waiters. The place was sparkling with a quality of...the wealthy and corporate. The palm leaves, the tinted glass windows that raced from floor to ceiling, the champagne glasses on a nearby table. It was all glorious decoration.

All the people there were beautiful...not a single appearance that resembled you...a pauper.

The awkward steps you took towards the receptionist resembled a weak lamb. You felt stupid for being there.

The server looked you up and down and it caused a sting to any confidence you had left. You touched your scarf.

“Hello, I’m looking for a Mister Tortano we have a meet-”

A hand glided across your back, you jumped a little and became confronted with a pair of dark brown orbs and handsome white teeth, “Hello, Miss Y/N.”

Nicholas...he was tall and wearing a simple sweater. Despite his causality he held an air of regality. Not to be overly romantic but you felt he would be a stunning prince if he was a royal member.

“I hope you don’t mind but I’ve had them set a table already.”

He held out an arm to you.

“Not at all,” You flushed and happily accepted it. You tucked it around and let him lead you carefully to a table. There was a set of plates and two wine glasses.

“Just give me a second or two to set up, is it alright if I tape your voice?” you asked reaching into your handbag.

He pulled out a chair for you and explained, “I would prefer no tapes, but I’m not adverse to photography.”

It wasn’t an unusual request. Lots of people didn’t like the sound of their voice. He must’ve been one of them.

It didn’t matter, photos were more your talents anyway.

“In that case, may I take the photos first and then perform the interview?”

He nodded and flashed a bigger beautiful smile.

“Where would you like me?”

You pulled out a office camera from your bag, you didn’t have time to go home and grab one of your ten others. You started to turn it on.

“If you could look away from the lens, relax your shoulders, lean back and look like you’re thinking. No smiling.”

“Do I look ugly with a smile?” he cheekily asked.

You couldn’t help but smile. He was charming and flirtatious and incredibly handsome.

“Terribly,” you teased, “No, my boss would just prefer a little more seriousness I believe. To make the page appear professional...plus the topic regarding the article with a smiling photo you’d look like a madman.”

He nodded promisingly and fell into the pose. When he heard the camera clicked a small smirk pulled at his lips before quickly trying to compose his face.

When the photos were finished you stuffed the camera back in your bag. He relaxed from his falsified stern appearance.

Now came the interview. You pulled out the sheet of questions Idris provided. Under no circumstances were you meant to ask anything but these....except....the questions....well...they were...

“So, you...ugh...hold on a moment....”

How many people have you killed?

What is currently the cheapest drug you can achieve from your circle?

Are you a homosexual?

What the fuck?! You weren’t even sure if you were legally allowed to ask these questions due to discrimination laws.

“Um...I...”

He smiled at you from across the table. You felt a pearl of sweat forming on your forehead.

“Stage fright?” Nick asked softly, tilting his head. He snapped his finger and a waiter came over and poured water into two cups. A basket of breadsticks were placed in the centre.

“No, well...yes...um. the questions I’m meant to ask you I stupidly didn’t read before coming here...” your cheeks felt warm. The embarrassment rose fast.

“So they’re not your questions?” his eyebrows lifted. His finger traced the lip of his glass.

“They’re my boss’s but I said I would ask them.”

Nicholas' lips parted back into a smile, “Enlighten me, I will be less offended knowing they’re not from you.”

You smoothed the paper out on the table and pulled out a notepad, clicking a pen after finding the least offensive one you licked your bottom lip and stuttered, “How...how would you describe yourself?”

He sighed and held the cup to his lips, “Vain, rich with a dominating grace.”

Those weren’t usual qualities someone described themselves as, usually people preferred to remain humble and soften their reality. It was an interesting new perception to attach to Nicholas Tortano the criminal who covered his wrong doings with funding medicine for sick children.

You noted it and looked at the page again to try and find another less offensive question. Frantically your finger scrolled down all the words. Your heart started to pick up. These were so ridiculous and disgusting. Right I go the jaws of the black dog- that’s what Luther had done to you.

You shyly laughed, “hmm, I...let me...-”

Nick slapped the cup back on the table. His smile had fallen, “Politely, Miss Y/N I don’t like my time to be wasted...how about you hand me that piece of parchment.”

He reached over with lightning speed. He pinch the paper and dragged it to him.

“Hey!-”

“Now now, here’s what we will do,” he peaked up at you and licked his bottom lip, “I’ll answer these questions and so will you.”

You lifted your chin and looked at him cautiously.

“But they’re not for me.”

“That doesn’t matter, I can see you’re nervous darling...so...let’s break tension.”

He trailed his thumb down the page and sighed, “Let’s see...ah yes I see how these would make you less inviting to involve yourself.”

After a moment he glanced and smirked at the questions, god you could throttle Luther right now for letting you go through this stupid interview.

“How many years did it take you to be where you are now as one of the most notorious crimelords?”

You tried to put on your best smile, “...yesterday...I stole this scarf...” you lied.

“Why Miss Y/N you must be a terrible influence!” He feigned a gasp of horror which made you lightly giggle, “I don’t label myself as a crime lord. As over the phone I stated simply, I’m a business man...my business so happens to involve crime. I’ve been in this business since I was thirteen years old. My first offence was Car theft. That was almost twenty years ago.”

Your throat shut. He was in his forties!? The damn bastard had the option of early 30s or maybe 20s if he shaved off his stubble entirely.

He looked between your face and your hands, “Are you going to write that down or do I have to do that too?”

You blinked and jumped with a start of noting down the new information, “Oh yes! Sorry!” Scribbling quickly you watched him, watching you...he was staring...like you were...something unusual.

“How many sentences have you been charged with?”

You shrugged unsure why you felt ashamed to say, “None.”

The pen in your hand twirled as the handsome gentleman scratched his nose, “Too many...in all up it has kept me behind bars for nine years total but I’ve been in and out for years. I only returned to the public eye a month ago.”

“Woah,” you whispered.

Nine years? A month? You didn’t have a lot of time to research him considering the call for lunch was so quick and speedy.

His fingers tapped the table softly. He shrugged, “Its not as bad as tellie makes it out to be...in fact it’s a way to network well. You can learn lots of new tricks when you’re forced into tight confinement.”

You started to take dot points. It’s interesting...being in prison for nine years...not all together but all total. Making connections and friends inside prison didn’t really click at first. You always assumed prison was a scary and lonely cell where you had to pee in front of everyone.

Nick looked back at the page and laughed, he rubbed his mouth and shook his head, “Are you a homosexual?”

You also laughed but it was more a awkward shyness, “No, I think I’m bisexual if anything but strictly gay I’m not. I can’t understand why that question would be even asked, I’m so sorry.” You grit your teeth and looked away.

He tilted his hand and shrugged, “It’s vicious rumour that I’m a pillow biter...I am not a homosexual.”

Its all he said. And that was something you really didn’t like writing down...it was so unnecessary.

“What is currently the cheapest drug you can achieve from your circle? Miss Y/N don’t tell me you sell drugs?” he giggled and folded the paper back a little.

'Jesus Christ'Luther!!!...you really wanted me to ask that!?' Your fists clenched under the table.

You dismissed it and grinned, “No, I do not. Sorry to be so boring....you?”

“Paracetamol,” he answered, “I can sell you some right now, I like to keep some nearby.”

Anyone could sell paracetamol...he deliberately said that, you knew.

“After the interview I think I might just,” you laughed and rubbed a little at your temple.

“How many people have you killed?”

You gasped. Your chest was like a loud metal band concert with your heart as the instrument racked, you didn’t understand how that was possible.

“None.” Well...your father....maybe...Nick didn’t need to know about that.

The philanthropic crime lord aka ‘businessman’ remained totally silent. Your hand paused.

“Are you not going to answer the question?...”

He put the paper down and plucked the menu, he unfolded the cardboard covered in matte black and gold designs, he looked down at the wine selection, “I think you might need to do something for me to answer that.”

“What?” you wanted to say you’d do it. But why would you promise anything to a man with his bad record.

“I’d need you to kill someone. And you don’t strike me as a murderer Miss Y/N.” His dark gaze flickered up at you, “Now...what would you like to eat?”

You bit your lip. He’s definitely killed before, or else he would’ve just said no. He wanted to you to know he was a murderer...you knew because his eyes remained perfectly still as he said it. No tremble or lying shame in those pupils.

You sat forward and drank a bit of your water.

Perhaps meeting Nick wasn’t just a benefit for the paper gossip. Maybe he could help you...you heard his voice ask you another question, probably about the menu, you do not remember...instead your thoughts tumbled out of your lips.

“....do you sell weapons Mister Tortano?”

The question caught him off guard. They weren’t on the paper your boss provided.

“Weapons?” he asked cautiously.

Shit, you had gone too far now to recall your thoughts, “Would you sell a gun to a woman even if she doesn’t have a license?”

His eyes sparkled.

“Whatever would you want a gun for Miss Y/N?” he leant back in his chair and pressed his fingers to his lips.

You tried to explain, but it was hard. You looked over your shoulder. It was too public to be discussing this. You whispered, “... There’s a rat who won’t leave me alone. I’d like to scare him...”

His eyes narrowed a little at your speech. He knew you weren’t being literal, so he replied coolly, “Are you asking for a gun or pest control?”

You whispered again, “A gun.”

He fluttered, you could tell he was staring down your shit to check for a wire.and clapped his hands loudly. The entire restaurant went from idle chatter and laughter to utter silence...it was eery...like a dream or a nightmare.

Nick shouted at the top of his lungs, echoing off the walls, “Leave us!”

The entire assembly of guests started to rise from their chairs. They packed up their brief cases and hand bags. Abandoning the half eaten food and untouched wine and champagne. Your nose wrinkled. What the fuck... they were all heading to the stair well, ignoring the elevators.

You looked back at Nicholas, confused, wondering if he meant you to leave too...you pinched the table cloth worryingly.

“Have you thought it through?” Nick asked now that the restaurant was empty, and quiet.

“What?” you didn’t understand. The entire perception of Nick Tortano was collapsing. He was so powerful...all those people were his. All of them under his thumb...all of them so obedient...

“Do you intend on threatening or killing?”

You felt trapped by his words.

“That’s my business Mister Tortano, politely speaking...” how could you confess to your intentions.

It was bad enough that he knew you wanted a gun.

You wondered if there was any chance you you make a run to the doors and run away. You were stepping from one scary man to another at this point.

After a while of sitting ashamed in silence, he stood up from his chair. His fingers lazily brushed the table, until he paused in front of you. He dragged his hand under your chin. He made you look at him, standing above you. His hand violently tore off your scarf and he tutted, “Is he the one who put the collar on you? The man to cover you in bruises? Might need a better foundation darling...I’m not stupid. I’d like to know if it’s going to reflect back on me. What’s the chaps name?”

You didn’t like how personally close he was standing above you. You felt small and trembled beneath his pinning dark brown eyes...they were practically black like some soulless shark. His white teeth looked starved.

You lied again, “...Lloyd...Ha-Han-Hansen...” perhaps Lloyd could handle Nick? But how? He couldn’t handle August. You regretted saying his name but that was it...you threw the only friend you had under the bus.

“Hmmm can’t say I know him well...”

“He’s um...a lawyer,” you lied again.

He smirked and whispered, “Is he?” his eyes narrowed with a glint of mischief.

He flipped his cardigan sweater up, on his hip, inside tucked in his jeans was a scary black gun... A hand gun.

“Well I do hope you get what you want out of him,” he pulled out the gun and set it on the table in front of you, “Here, consider it a gift...I find your disposition incredibly pleasing...”

You glanced at the gun and felt a rush of something...adrenaline? Anxiety? Arousal? Something became alive...

“I need to go. I’m so sorry,” you rushed to stand up, you pinched the weapon and carefully tucked it into your hand bag, “I need to leave.”

This was too easy. Far too coincidental. Maybe this was your father's spirit watching over you?

“Until we meet again,” he chuckled and stood aside. You could hear his wickedly laughter as you fled to the doors. As the doors closed behind you, you could see in the distance, Nick standing by the windows smelling your scarf deeply. Your hand touched your throst and felt the jagged material. You weren't sure if you wanted to go back for the scarf. Watching him press his face into the soft material- the action was perverse...he was perverse...just like August. A mighty shiver rolled up your spine. You didn’t have time to worry about that.

You were filled with all the raw emotions of the last month. Anger, grief, revenge....

You now had a gun... The power to wield death easily. Now you just needed your chance.

You kept hearing Lloyd in the back of your mind...would killing August be worth your own life?

Especially life in prison.

You shoved it back and focused on the pain you felt, the agony as you cried in his lap under threats of his spanking. He wiped you when you used the toilet...he called you puppy...he forced you to cum and cry....he made you beg and suck his cock just to hold you...he treated you as a subhuman.

02:06pm Wednesday 21st August 2024, Woolloongabba, Brisbane

You opened your front door, slamming it behind you. And as you started to slide the bolts and chains, you heard something down the hallway...a small crash? No? A grunt...

Angry eyes and a sneer grew on your face. You marched down, your father’s door was wide open.

And there the fucker was. August... Folding clothes into your father’s bed from a washing basket.

You saw red.

“Wh-what the fuck...get out!”

He lifted his head and finished folding a pair of your jeans, your head leaned back to your bedrooms opened door before you looked back at him inside your father's room.

“Your home is a mess,” He said nonchalantly, “I won’t have you stomping around in squalor.”

He had gone into your room and cleaned it. And on any given day, that would’ve earned a man a blowjob, not him though, no...he was in your space and invading your life too much.

With a flared nostril you snarled, “I am giving you five seconds to leave. Or I'll-”

He snickered at your defiant demand, “Or what? You’re going to call the cops?”

You didn’t want to kill him here...You dug into your hand bag and it felt impossibly slow and heavy in your hand. You pointer the gun at his head and fought the trembling in your body and your voice, “Or you’re going to choke on your own blood August.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t expect your display. He paused and continued to fold the laundry. You didn’t like being ignored and moved inside of your father’s room. It wouldn’t be the first time a man died in this room.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” He said without a single hint of fear.

You held the gun now in both hands. You stood strong and came closer around the bed.

You scoffed, “No, of course not, you manipulate me, drug me, hit me, and raped me but 'oh nooooo I won’t shoot you'?”

He smiled and shook his head slowly. He appeared so unafraid and that caused a spit of hate to hit your face. You wanted him to be on his knees, begging for his life, pleading for forgiveness while he pissed himself. This was not at all what you imagined, him folding the washing and sorting to find pairs of socks.

“One,” You said.

He sighed and threw your underwear back into the basket. He started to walk around the bed gradually.

You screeched, “Two, stay the fuck away from me!”

He stopped and raised his hands. Slowly he perched himself on the corner of your dad’s bed.

“Three,” you said a little shakily. He still didn’t flinch. You felt suffocated. Why wasn’t he scared?

You pissed in his lap when he pointed one at you in the club. This wasn’t fair.

Tears uncontrollably started to fall from your eyes. You didn’t want to kill him...god you hated him...but if he wasn’t going to beg you, you didn’t want to kill him. Especially in this room...besides ...what would you do with his body?

“F-four, don’t make me do this August!”

You moved closer and closer until the tip of the metal weapon pressed into his forehead.

It was now or never...“Pl-please, don’t...” you begged, hoping he would walk out of the room and apartment. You squeezed your eyes shut.

You pulled the trigger and screamed as you did it. The trigger didn’t move...it felt stuck. You pulled it again and nothing happened. You opened your eyes and noted how the gun hadn’t gone off and August was still happily breathing with a dark, sadistic grin on his moustached lips.

“Five...” he hummed and wrapped his palm around the barrel, pulling it up and tugging it away from your trembling hands, “your safety is still on, and...” He clicked off the top and sighed, “It’s not even loaded.”

You crashed to your knees and vomited right over his leather shoes. You weren’t prepared for the rush of exhaustion to hit you. Your body shook. Your fingers clenched the soaked carpet. The metal of the unloaded gun lifted your chin up. Tears ran down your cheeks beautifully.

“Tell me, did the piggy give this to you?”

Your swollen lips blubbered, “No!” Lloyd didn’t need any more wicked men following him around.

You shut your eyes and sniffled. Surely August would kill you. This must’ve been some sort of a strike three, yes?

“Then where did you get your paws on one of these?...” he bit his smile lip.

“A friend...” it wasn’t a total lie. Nick liked you, you somewhat found him intriguing. Yes you’d only met that day...but he was a friend now for a moment in your mind.

August pulled you up into his lap by your hair. Hot lips pressed into your neck and nuzzling your ratty leather collar, “You were really going to kill me...weren’t you?” he cooed as you started to sniffle and choke on your tears, “You pulled that trigger. I underestimated you sweetness...don’t worry. I won’t punish you for that.”

He cupped the back of your head, pulling you in for a big kiss. His lips soft, but his hand tight and filled with dominance.

You felt light. He was kissing you just after you vomited. Gross.

He pulled away and spat at the floor, he chuckled and pressed his nose against yours.

“In fact...I got you a gift.”

You whined and fluttered your eyes, “I don’t want a gift from you.”

You weren’t mentally prepared for any sick sexual torture he had in store for you. You could see his jaw shift and his eyes dash back and forth.

“Are you sure? I think you’ll like it.”

Your hands touched the collar hopefully. Maybe it was the key?

He slid his hands under your armpits. You heard your bag hit the dry side of the floor.

He lifted you with ease to your feet and pressed a hand at the small of your back, pushing you to the bathroom.

He was so huge compared to you. The lower ceiling made you have a flash of worry...what if he hit his head?

He was fine.

He turned on the shower and peeled away your clothes. He wasn’t rough, and he wasn’t leering...he was soft...and patient. He pushed your long sleeved shirt up and gasped at the sight of bruises Lloyd created from the gym. His thumb unkindly pressed into one. You whined and tried to step away but your ass pressed into the vanity sink.

He knew he hadn’t given you these.

“And who has my puppy been playing rough with? Don’t tell me you’ve spread your legs for someone else now...”

He turned you around slowly, inspecting the marks he had not made on your skin. His hands palmed over your flesh.

The steam from the shower began to whaf out. You tried to not imagine the water bill ticking up.

He pinched your bra off and watched your arms circle to cover your chest.

He turned you back to face him. Unbuttoning your jeans, he tugged them down and helped take off your shoes. He pressed his lips to a bruise on your outer thigh. The temptation to throw your knee into his throat was great.

His hand cupped the back of your knee. His nose was so close to your underwear covered pussy, you could feel his hot breath tickling your clit.

Your panties were gradually pulled down to your ankle and you used his shoulder for balance as you stood out of the flimsy material.

He stood back and opened the shower door for you. He left the bathroom door open and you didn’t want to risk a punishment for locking him out. He took your clothes to the laundry and heard him open your cleaning supply closet where you kept a mop and broom and vacuum cleaner.

As you soaped your body, the suds building along your skin and back you sighed. The collar rubbed against your neck. It was a reminder...

He was powerful. He was scary and you were risking death. You had just tried to kill him...at any moment he could bash your head in until your skull caved, no one would find you for days...maybe weeks...he said he wouldn’t kill you but that was before you pulled a gun on him.

You were angry at yourself...angry at Ben....why would the gun be empty?! Couldn’t Nick have told you that? Maybe he assumed you knew how to handle one...

August came back into the bathroom after ten minutes of cleaning. You didn’t dare to leave the shower in that time.

He was back. And now...he was naked. You uncontrollably worried and pressed your back into the bathroom tile. He stood into the shower, stealing the hot spray when it hit his back.

He was so hairy, and huge. He was like a bear.

You gulped and glanced at his dick. He was flaccid but you knew he could fuck you with a soft dick or just his hands alone.

He held out his hand and whispered, “The soap, please.”

Your hand shook as you shakily handed over the small white bar. It was the cheapest shit on the shelves you could find.

Now you regretted not spending the money you saw in your bank account. You would die feeling poor.

You tried to cover your nakedness. A hand between your thighs. You felt the bareness and cringed your face. He would’ve waxed you again or shaved while you were ‘in his care’ after the club incident.

The huge man started to rub the soap along his thighs and his arms and chest.

He smelt of your vomit...he cleaned it up for you...his clothes...you could hear the laundry machine.

He either was cleaning evidence or he was staying the night.

His face...was soft. He wasn’t angry...he was deep in thought... He was pleased. The faintest of smiles was on his furry face.

When he was finished. He touched your waist and pressed you to turn around him in the cubicle. Now the hot water covered your shivering skin. He rubbed some more soap into his hands and rubbed the bubbled into your skin. Along the back of your neck he rubbed and pinched. A tiny moan imminently slipped from your lips. You hoped he hadn’t heard it.

He did...

You knew he was gliding his hands down to your bottom and rubbing the darkened skin he planted when he spanked you. You hissed and softly swore as his thumb pressed in. A small threat, a warning? A reminder...

He touched you everywhere except your tits and your cunt...which shocked you as you braced from his hands every time they drew near those areas. The sense of denial played in your mind.

Your body felt warm...humming as it was teased.

He did touch the leather around your neck and tutted at the parts you damaged with scissors, where the metal you couldn’t cut poked out.

Turning the shower off, August opened the door again and guided you out onto the soft floor mat. He took a towel from the vanity draw and wrapped it over your shoulders like you were some kid at the beach.

He wrapped a towel around his waist. His body dripping and soaking into the edge.

You were poked out of the room and made to go into your room. Your dad’s door was still open however and that made you uncomfortable.

On your bed...was a box....

The gift...was an actual gift!? It was wrapped in white and gold paper with a pink tulle ribbon around it.

You shifted your towel around to wrap yourself in and looked between the man leaning on the doorway and the wrapped box on your bed.

He nodded to it. Open it. A silent command.

Your curled your lips into your mouth as you pulled the tulle ribbon away and scratched the paper back.

A deep gasp left your chest, “A phone?...”

It was one of the newest if the models you used. This type of phone usually cost three thousand dollars!

Behind you the awful man laughed softly, “For stepping on the one from the club.”

The tiny smile that was coming to your lips, disappeared. If he hadn’t reminded you of that night, you might’ve kept smiling. Your fist clenched. You were angry. Did he know how scared you were as you ran in the dark? Did he know you hated him even more because of this gift. This wasn’t a gift, this was a bribe...

Your jaw ticked and you turned on your heel, you held your towel tightly, “I am not saying thankyou.”

He chuckled at that and nodded, he tilted his head to the side and wagged a finger at you, “I swear every time I see you, you become twice as fiery.”

When he stood forward you got scared and tripped back and fell onto your bed. The phone box slid to the floor. Your heart raced. You noted how you accidentally flashed him as the towel fell from your hands.

He paused, not moving any further. He could see how frightened you were. And if you didn’t know any better...he didn’t want to scare you today.

His smile fell and he sighed, “Before I forget...your sex toy arrived.”

You crept off your bed as he left the door way. He was quickly back before you could make an escape.

He held a box and threw it to you. Without thought you let go of your towel and caught the box with the erotic images and product on it.

Stark nude and wet you stood. You turned away from him and put the box with your newly bought toy on the bed. You put your phone box beside it.

He was watching you with bird eyes as you tried to pick up the towel and cover yourself again.

“So let me see,” he hummed, he crossed his arms over his chest and clicked his tongue, “First you threaten to kill me,” he pushed away from the door, “You then attempt to actually kill me,” and he shakes his head chuckling, “and now I find out my cock isn’t enough to satisfy? Good heavens...have I neglected my greedy little puppy?”

Your hands lifted... Your towel was loose but you had tucked it to your body. You prepared your fighting stance like how Lloyd showed you.

“Get out...” you spat.

“No,” he smirked, “I will not.” He launched forward.

He grabbed your towel and you slipped from the material. You ran around his body, ripping his towel off as you ran out.

You slipped on water droplets in the hall and slid down the hall to the kitchen.

As he came around the corner, you flung a cupboard door open hard that smacked his hard in the face. You smiled hearing his painful groan.

"Fuck!"

He pushed it back and tried to grab you as you ran around the mini island. You threw his towel at his face as you made a rush back to your room. You managed to lock a chain and bolt on the bedroom door. You panicked and climbed under your pathetic single bed. You heard him behind the wood.

“Open up little puppy...or I’m gonna huff...” he said, “and then I’ll puff...”

When you made no sign of opening the door and remaining beneath the bedframe. The door burst open. The locks tore through the metal nook. He walked through. He nakedly crouched by the side of the bed and sighed at you curled up under your bed. He shook his head and softly smiled. He laid flat on the floor beside you.

“Watcha doin down there sweetness?”

You felt a breath escape you. A soft laugh. Was he fucking serious?!

“Hiding,” you mumbled into your wrists.

He fluttered his eyes shut. His hand rested on his Bare stomach.

“Well I found you, so you might as well come out. You’re black and blue. I don’t want to drag you over the carpet, don’t want rip up your knees pup.”

You couldn’t understand why he kept calling you that. You weren’t a puppy...you...you were human and you still weren’t sure how that pet name even fit you .

You knew he was right though, there was only way out and it didn’t matter. You would need to face him. If he wanted to kill you, nothing could’ve stopped him from strangling your throat. After a minute or two you finally gave in... Wiggling your butt from under the bed. He moved up to his knees. He watched you stick your head out and shimmy to the open air.

You knew trying to run out the door was useless and there was no other locks other than the front door. You rubbed your lips, staring at the broken locks and the door that hung off only one hinge...you really hated him...

His large soft hand rubbed your cheek and the back of your neck, cupping you closer to his body.

Both in your knees, he pulled you into his chest.

You pleaded softly, “Please...”

“Kiss me puppy,” he begged and looked down at your lips. You glanced to his eyes and shut yours as your pushed your face up.

He was gentle. His tongue poked Into your mouth and your lips closed. He kissed you and sucked on your bottom lip loudly. God it felt good. It felt hot and inviting. This kiss was like a deep hot bath or a cosy blanket. His hands squeezed your arms and cocooned you closer to his damp skin. You just wanted to wrap yourself in his body and sleep...except your body felt attacked by an invisible electricity, like a dozen bees rumbling down from your chest to the folds between your thighs.

Your could barely breathe.

When he pulled back he shuddered, “Are you turned on?”

You gasped, “No, why would I-”

“You’re trembling.”

“I’m scared,” your nose twitched and your gazed over his chest, feeling his cock twitch against your belly.

He chuckled and shook his head, he pressed a hard kiss against your cheek, “Merely two sides of the same coin...”

You whimpered and felt his hands smooth down your ass to your thighs. He lifted you up and pushed you onto your bed. You were at the same height now. Him kneeling on the floor with your sitting on your bed.

“You are safe, trust me,” he kissed your lips briskly, “Say it.”

“I...” you hesitated, “I am safe...and I trust you.”

His thumb pressed under your jaw, he kissed you again, “Good girl. I am not going to hurt you...truly...I promise.”

He dragged his lips down to your chest. He sucked in one of your tits. His lips smacked as he licked and sucked around your skin, you felt strange. Dirty but in a good way. Your own back curled to push into his mouth.

He pulled up after one satisfying suck, “That felt good yea?”

“S-so good,” you stuttered. Your cheeks felt warm it was like you were drunk but you knew you had a full sober conscious..

“Would you like to feel that again?” he asked, his hands ran up your thighs, spreading your knees.

You sighed as his thumb licked at your clit. You rocked your hip a little and whined. Fuck it felt good.

“Answer me puppy”

“I- oh god- I want to feel that again.”

He kissed your belly and pushed you back a little. Your head thudded against the wall. Your hands shakily grasped some pillows and put them behind your back. Your gleaming cunt glistened...that was totally you...no lube...no spit....just your arousal alone.

“Look at this pussy.” He marvelled as he pushed two fingers inside. You gasped and let out a feral moan.

“It just swallows up my fingers...do you like my fingers fucking your wet pussy?”

You whined and but your lip. When you didn’t answer, he pulled them out. He started licking them lewdly as he waited for your reply.

“I...” Your hands covered your eyes as you moaned, “I don’t know.”

“Are you turned on?” he asked you again.

“Yes,” you admitted. You just wanted his fingers back there again.

“Do you want my cock?” He purred in a soft belittling time.

“Y-yes...” you almost sobbed. God admitting it now made yourself sick. How could you admit to that? Your entire goal was to kill him. Take him down. Destroy his reputation. But here you were.

In your bedroom, crying for him to fuck you with his huge dick.

He climbed on top of you and tugged your ankles over his waist.

You felt his hard head press into your hole. His cock popped inside and his hips started the deep defend inside of you. He held your hips, lifting you up.

“Do you hate me?” he crooned, his teeth gnawed at your earlobe.

“I do,” you growled, in his ear, “fucking hate your guts.”

He laughed and groaned, “You hate my fucking guts?”

“Yes, fuck,” you gasped and scratched the back of his neck.

He was stretching you out and you drowned in his touch. You felt his cock tapping at your special spot and felt your knees clench tighter around his ribs.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked despite being balls deep and jerking his hips into yours.

“Yes. Oh god,” you gargled as he decided to slam himself harder and faster. Your nails dug into his biceps. Your teeth were grit tightly. You kept swearing. It hurt and felt so good altogether.

“Who do you belong to?” he sighed, his eyes winced while your pussy clenched him tightly.

You grunted angrily, “No body.”

He punctuated with his jerking hips, “You. Belong. To. Me.”

“N-no!” You yelped, his finger curled under your collar and tugged up you neck until you were forced to put yourself up on your elbows. He slowed his speed but kept his deep entrance.

“Oh but you do puppy, you do. You already know it. You just don’t want to admit it.”

His other hand pressed against your clit and your eyes rolled a little. Your nostril flared. Fuck that was painfully good. He tugged you up by the leather strap until your nose pressed against his. His moustache tickles against your lip.

“Whose collar is around this throat?” he growlee.

You grunted, “Yours.”

“That’s right...it’s. Mine. My. Collar.”

He kissed you hard and possessively. Not once did he let the collar go. He shoved his mouth into your ear as he ground down hard inside your cunt.

“Would you fuck any other man with this collar on?”

Your hand hugged the back of his neck and scratched, “No!”

“So tell me, who do you belong to.”

Your gasped, spit flying from your mouth against his as you said it, “Y-you.”

“That’s right, good puppy. You belong to me. I own you. You are my pet. You are mine to look after...mine to protect.”

It was a mantra, a speech that planted itself into your mind as a new fact...like a new commandment that always had been yet unspoken until now.

“Say it you little bitch,” he barked.

“Yours, I’m yours,” your eyes rolled as you started to cum, your words caught in your mouth until you Released a ear piercing scream, “I belong to you!!”

You felt him cackle as you wailed through the orgasm. The pressure was like a water balloon bursting in your belly and shooting a burning pleasure through your cunt.

It took you a while to calm down. You sobbed. The pleasure was too much...you felt confused and consumed. His cock twitch and he grunted loudly before freezing. His cock moved again and you felt him pull away, his cum rushed out and dripped out of you.

You felt full and empty. It was an unusual sensation.

He was sweating, your were drenched. Leaning over your trembling body, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and sighed, “what are you?”

“Yours,” you whined.

He chuckled and shook his head. His fingers pinched your jaw, “No, what are you to me?”

“I...” you paused and blinked lazily. Your brain was too fuzzy. “I don’t understand...I don’t know.”

Your hand wandered up to your throat. His hand was fiddling with the metal. You heard the collar pop and click. He pulled the collar away and threw it over his shoulder, “You’re my puppy.”

"And..." You voice rattled through your teeth, "And you're...daddy?"

He kissed you again and nodded, "Good girl."

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[jonillaa]

hi!! can you write something about high school basketball player!jo being overprotective of his gf in front of his teammates? thank you ~~~

SLAM DUNK ┊ asakura jo

PAIRING ┊ jo x f!reader

GENRE ┊ fluff (very very slight angst if you squint)

WC ┊ 520

WARNINGS ┊ bullying , ending is kinda cringe erm.. , lowercase intended!! (lmk if i missed anything!)

SYNOPSIS ┊ being the girlfriend of your high school's heartthrob, jo, felt like a dream come true. however, the constant name-calling and teasing from his teammates began to take a toll on your self-esteem. jo, unable to bear seeing you hurt, takes matters into his own hands, even if it means quitting the team.

A/N ┊ hii did you guys miss me 😋😋 bye let’s not talk about how the title doesn’t match up with the drabble at all.. SHHHH I literally don’t know what else to put ☹️ anyways short drabble for bae jo becuz I miss him and i don’t wanna be dead anymore haha!! 😆

you never expected to be the girlfriend of the most popular guy in school, jo. he was the star basketball player, with his handsome visuals and long legs that seemed to effortlessly glide across the court. but what drew him to you was the shared art class you had together. he had always had his eyes on you, even before you started dating.

at first, being jo’s girlfriend felt like a dream. he was sweet and caring, always there to comfort and reassure you when the relentless name-calling from his fan girls got to be too much. you didn't mind it at first, but as time went on, their words slowly chipped away at your confidence.

but just when you thought things couldn't get worse, jo’s basketball teammates started picking on you. they would whisper comments about you into his ears, teasing him for dating someone like you and saying he could do better. their words hurt more than anything the fan girls could say, and it felt like a betrayal coming from his own teammates.

one day, during basketball practice, the teasing reached its peak. jo’s eyebrows furrowed with anger as he listened to his teammates' snide remarks. he had had enough. without hesitation, he walked up to you, his usually awkward demeanor replaced with a determined expression.

"hey, let's get out of here," jo said, his voice filled with a mix of protectiveness and frustration.

confused but intrigued, you followed him as he led you away from the gym and into a quieter hallway. once you were alone, jo turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination.

"i can’t stand seeing them treat you like that," he confessed, his voice laced with anger. "they’re supposed to support me through everything, it makes me wanna quit the team. you deserve so much better than this."

you couldn't help but feel your heart swell at his words. his sudden overprotectiveness was both surprising and attractive to you. you had always admired his strength and skill on the basketball court, but seeing him stand up for you like this made you fall for him even more.

"i appreciate you standing up for me, jo," you replied, your voice filled with gratitude. "but i don't want you to quit because of me."

jo’s expression softened as he reached out to gently cup your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "i would do anything for you, even if it means giving up basketball. you mean more to me than anything else."

his words left you speechless, your heart pounding in your chest. you never expected jo to be so open and vulnerable with his feelings. it made you realize just how much he cared for you.

from that day forward, jo’s teammates never dared to say another word about you. the anger in his eyes and the determination in his voice had made it clear that he would not tolerate any more disrespect towards you. his actions spoke louder than any words could, and his teammates finally understood the depth of his feelings for you.

[tojisprettywife]

Drabbles

ex husband! toji x ex wife! reader (sfw)

jjk! +haikyuu! +slam dunk! characters x reader (nsfw)

husband! toji x wife! reader (fluff!, sfw)

jjk! +haikyuu! +slam dunk! characters x reader (nsfw)

husband! toji x wife! reader (nsfw)

daddy! toji x mommy! reader (fluff, have a baby together, sfw)

sulky bf! gojo x reader (fluff, sfw)

jjk! + haikyuu! + slam dunk! + blk! characters x f! reader (nfsw)

husband! toji x wife! reader (fluff, sfw)

[overtaken-stream]

` Welcome! !

Requests×Are×Open

My Works:

One P!ece:

Yandere!King the Wildfire x F!Reader Part1 ~ Part2 ~ Part3.

Yandere!King the Wildfire: Darling wanting to pleasure him back. Who has the highest chance of falling for King's s/o.

Yandere!King the Wildfire: Bloodlines.

King the Wildfire: NSFW Headcanons, Kinks. Fluff.

King the Wildfire x Straw hat!Gn!Reader: Do Not F4lter.

King the Wildfire x F!Reader: Adorable Pigeon. Puffed feathers/shield. Red Dead.

King the Wildfire: Meeting anothers of his race.

King the Wildfire: Pregnant!s/o running away.

King the Wildfire x Gn!Reader: Annoy.

King the Wildfire: Biting his chest.

King the Wildfire: Pregnancy. With a daughter. Human-like child. Queen. Outside Threats.

King the Wildfire: Women.

King the Wildfire: Heats.

King the Wildfire+Avatar: Hair.

King the Wildfire: Gentle s/o.

King the Wildfire x F!Reader: In Modern AU.

King the Wildfire Dick Headcanons. Fire Headcanons.

King & Katakuri: Who is the bigger breeder? How many kids would they have?

King the Wildfire x F!Reader(100 Followers special): Where On3 Will St4nd. Funny thoughts. Big Mom. Big Mom2.

Kaidou: Women.

Izou x Gn!Reader: Love, Lust, Lick.

Portgas D. Ace, Sanji: 'U' in Art.

Dracule "Hawk Eyes" Mihawk x F!Reader: Drunk Deeds.

Trafalgar D. Water Law: Fatherhood.

Trafalgar D. Water Law: Pregnancy.

Trafalgar D. Water Law: Tattoos.

Charlotte Katakuri x F!Reader: Monster's Voice Is Sweet To Hear.

Charlotte Katakuri: Father Headcanons.

"Black Leg" Sanji x F!Reader: Sweets Full Of Lies.

Slam Dunk:

Rukawa Kaede with Sakuragi!Reader.

Random Sakuragi Headcanons.

Rukawa Kaedae x Gn!Reader Headcanons.

Kicchou Fukuda x F!Reader: Bros Ov3r Ho3s.

Mitsui Hisashi: Practicing with his s/o. Comforting his s/o.

Ryota Miyagi x F!Reader: 3 Years Younger.

Sendoh Akira x Gn!Reader Headcanons

Ao Ashi:

Akutsu Nagisa x Gn!Artist!Reader: Co0k Me a Meal, Make Me Starve.

Akutsu Nagisa: Intentions(Part 2 of the above)

Genshin !mpact:

Arataki Itto: is touchy.

Blue Lock:

α!Gagamaru Gin x Gn! β!Reader headcanon.

↳Rules;

#1 Feel free to submit as many characters as you like without spamming.

When requesting keep these in mind:

I. Ask, don't demand me to write.

II. No OC's x character ships.

III. Would you like a platonic or romantic relationship? NSFW or Fluff? Any kinks?

IV. If you have an idea for me, be it a plot or AU, be detailed about it. However, leave space for me to expand on.

I will NOT do:

Pedophilia

Urine

Incest

Cheating

↳Fandoms I write for;

Ao Ashi; Attack on Titan.

Blue Lock.

Demon Slayer.

Genshin Impact.

Haikyuu!! HunterxHunter.

JoJo's Bizzare Adventure(Part 1-6).

MONSTER; My Hero Academia.

Naruto.

One Piece; One Punch Man.

Slam Dunk.

Tokyo Revengers.

↳Upcoming Works`

Portgas D. Ace x Gn!Reader(Platonic) Headcanon

Ao3

[auslanderka]

— my little piece for a spooky sports event made by my dear @koushuwu! || event post ; event masterlist

fandom : slam dunk

ship : mito youhei x gn!reader (f!reader in my mind)

TW/tags: spooky sports anime event, horror movie night, characters aged up, established relationship (wife-husband), slighty 18+, minors dni

Note : tbh I don't know how to write typical spooky stories but this was created, in general I don't celebrate halloween at all and all the traditions are for me "dry theory" from English class ; I feel like it's a little silly and boring but if by some miracle you have wandered here - enjoy.

Note 2 : and okay this fic. I dedicate this writing piece to @gothintegra - it's possible that you like horror movies and probably youhei wouldn't need to comfort you during horror movie night (I realized this as I was finishing writing haha) but it doesn't change the fact that I wrote with you in mind. it's my little "thank you" for your kind words when things were very bad for me in early september, I hope you enjoyed it!

— contains eng grammar problems and mistakes as well —

The living room of your small apartment looked fabulous. If that's the word to describe the room decorated with pumpkins and other ornaments you found in the store's Halloween & autumn section. Like every year, you created a mood to warm up the ugly weather that was starting to be more and more outside the window.

Youhei leaned over the candles in the shape of small pumpkins lighting them while you placed two mugs with hot chocolate decorated with marshmallows  in the shape of little ghosts on the table. Next to them were two plates of cookies, which you had been making all morning while Mito was still at work. The pleasant smell of shortcrust pastry, baked apple and cinnamon wafted throughout the apartment.

It was October 31st. A day when ghouls came out of their hiding places and people spent time at dress-up parties. You and your husband decided to spend the day together and make a movie night. You two just didn't agree on the choice of movie genre. Youhei wanted horror movies, and you wanted anything that wasn't horror.

"so what are we going to watch tonight?" you asked while correcting the cushions on the couch. Mito smiled broadly and disappeared into the hallway for a while. He returned with a paper bag full of rented DVDs from a nearby rental store. Seeing his face and the package you made the mental sign of the cross. You may not have been religious, but the sight of that one evil smile on his face made you know you had to prepare for the worst.

"you and your ideas" you groaned, picking up one of the dvds from the table. The cover itself was already rejecting; you didn't even want to think about what was the plot.

"hey, it's October 31st!"

Youhei stood on the other side of the table grinning widely. He had been saying for several months that they would have a movie marathon in October. At first you thought he was joking. You had been together for quite a long time, Mito knew very well that you are fearful and horror movies weren’t films you reached for with pleasure. You had seen maybe one or two in your entire life, not of you own volition, of course, but it let you know that it was not your favorite film genre.

You looked at Youhei and already knew you wouldn't give you a break so easily.

*

When he turned on the second or third movie, you sat next to him on the couch quite stiffly. You kept your gaze fixed on the TV, but at every louder sound of music or screaming you flinched or jumped up feeling the hair on your head go astray. Horror wasn't your favorite movie genre as you once again found out. Youhei sat next to you resting his head on his hand and watching you for several minutes in concentration with a lazy smile on his face.

He gently grabbed your hand lying on your thigh at which you jumped up making a silently frightened sound. You looked at him feeling your cheeks turning red and slapped him lightly on the shoulder seeing his amused face.

"hey" Mito chuckled smiling slightly and clasping his hand tighter on your arm. He pulled you close so that your cheek rested against his chest. Closed your eyes snuggling into his shirt.

"I don't want to watch it," groaned quietly, hoping that Youhei would give you a break tonight and the scary movie night would end with two horror movies watched.

"It's just fiction." he chuckled quietly feeling your arms tighten more tightly around him. He sighed quietly, put his arms around you and kissed your neck gently. Still cuddled in, Mito glanced at the TV, which he had turned down a few minutes ago without you even noticing.

After a while, however, he lost interest in the movie and the mindless carnage that had just played out on the screen accompanied by the screams of the blond-haired actresses. He grabbed you tighter by the thighs and pulled you closer to him. He rested his forehead against your shoulder, closing his eyes and inhaling the soft scent of your perfume. A scent you used only in the fall.

His hands carefully slid out from under the material of your loose cotton shirt and he moved them as gently as he could along your sides. At such moments, Mito always noticed how petite you were compared to his hands. He also had the impression that you had lost a lot of weight recently due to stress and excessive work. His grip became stronger.

"It's just a fiction. You are not in danger of anything." whispered in your ear.

Your skin was pleasantly soft and warm. You raised your hands, allowing him to pull off your shirt. A cheeky grin appeared on his face at the sight of your black lace bra, which contrasted sharply with your pale skin. The faint light of the candles set on the table and bookcases in the dark living room further accentuated your assets. He leaned in. His lips gently touched your hot skin, leaving a gentle kiss on your collarbone. You felt a pleasant shiver along your spine. You took his face in your hands and forced him to look at you. The corners of your mouth lifted, seeing dark eyes gazing lovingly at you. Nothing had changed since high school. All these years, he gazed at you with the same infatuated eyes. You leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, and he let the air out of his lungs loudly.

Your delicate hands moved down the nape of his neck, pointing upward toward his dark hair. His hair, which had always been perfectly styled, was now disheveled and in the mess you liked so much. This was a private Youhei. Your Youhei. One that only you and perhaps his closest friends knew. You weaved your fingers into the strands, smiling slightly. He placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder and then began to move his lips toward your neck.

"I hate you..." you muttered quietly ignoring the screams coming again from the TV behind you.

"And that's why you married me." he winked at you at which you sighed quietly. It's a good thing you were sitting, because your legs probably would have refused to obey you.

[your-averagewriter]

"The Maine are f*cking here!"

Summary: (y/n)'s band are going to a festival, but most importantly - The Maine are going to the same festival and (y/n) can't wait to meet them but she's not exactly prepared (John O'Callaghan x fem!reader).

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: swearing, sexual jokes

-

-

There's a one-day festival held in Britain each year, an alternative music one, obviously, called Slam Dunk and it's on in a few days and I can't wait. There are some really awesome bands there and it's so cool that it's so close to where I come from. The Offspring, Enter Shikari, Bowling For Soup, The Academy Is… who we're friends with and have toured with before and then a personal favourite: The Maine. In the lists of bands we ranked pretty high, we're on stage just after Yellowcard which is pretty cool because I've liked their music since I was a teenager.

I'm most excited though to see The Maine's performance and I'm hoping that they're going to the signing tent - fingers crossed.

I spend the next few days practising with my band (I'm the singer and I sometimes play the guitar as well), preparing for the show then the last day is spent travelling to the grounds as we were playing some concerts up North. So here I am sitting in our tour bus with my headphones on trying to ignore the bickering between Zack and Ben about the littering of clothes scattered around the bus. Rolling my eyes I swipe through Instagram looking at all the posts about the festival and the excited people, fans and bands alike. 

Finally, we get there, much to my relief. I push open the bus door and breathe in the fresh air after four hours of non-stop driving and bickering from the others. I drop down, feeling my boots hit the floor and I'm met with the view of a massive field filled with various different stages and stalls. We've parked somewhere more private like the other bands and I can see stagehands and managers rushing around along with some unfussed band members that I recognise. Rou Reynolds (Enter Shikari), the Yellowcard group and a couple of guys from Hawthorne Heights and then William Beckett whom I am good friends with so I decide to go meet him.

I jog over to him and sling my arm around his shoulders with a grin. This is what I love about this festival - the people you meet!

"Bilvy! Long time no see!" I say using my nickname for him. 

"(y/n)!" He says turning to look at me then he hugs me. "How are you?" He asks pulling back.

"I'm good, tired though after spending hours with that lot cooped up in the bus." I sigh remembering the torturous time.

"Same, I left the rest of the guys to grab some food so I could get a bit of a break."

"Smart," I say and take a mental note. "Have you had lunch yet?" He shakes his head.

"I only got here 20 minutes or so ago."

"Do you wanna grab something to eat? I'm sure there are some good food stalls here."

"Yeah, sounds good, I saw an intriguing food stall on the way here, wanna check it out?" I nod and we walk around the park until we make it to the stall. We grab some food and head to the benches with our drinks. We chat and catch up, you don't tend to have much free time when you're in a band to meet up with band friends 'cause every one is always touring. 

I watch as more bands turn up and everyone finds their own place to get lunch. Whilst we're having lunch Spencer from Underoath (who I'm also friends with) comes up to us and chats for a bit before reuniting with some others. 

But whilst I'm sitting on the bench with Bilvy I see John from The Maine grab some food from the same place we did with a couple of his bandmates. I hit Bill on the shoulder gently and lean in to whisper to him.

"The Maine are fucking here!" I say both extremely excited and terrified. "John is right over there!" I say and he looks over to see them.

"The guy you're literally in love with?"

"I'm not in love with him!"

"You should talk to him." He suggests biting a chip.

"I'm gonna watch their set tomorrow, I might try and say hi," I say excitedly. "You should come with?"

"I would but we’re on a bit after they are so I don't have time. Sorry to leave you hanging." He says and I assure him that it's okay before we finish off our meals and walk off to look around the park.

After a while, we all head in as it gets late and we have a big day tomorrow. I wake up quite early, not wanting to miss anything. I get changed and put on a basic black crop top and some denim shorts because it's really hot, especially for May! I sort out my hair and head out on my way to nowhere in particular. I wander around and meet up with various people, I even met some of the guys from Enter Shikari which is cool because they’re actually all really nice guys.

Lots of bands are out early setting up their merch stands before doors open and fans start flooding in. I see John again, setting up the merch stall for The Maine and I breathe deeply before gathering the confidence to go over to him and the stand.

"Hey." I clear my throat. "Can I buy a couple of things?" I ask slightly timidly and he turns around, a look of shock on his face.

"Y-yeah, of course." He says with a small smile. "Umm, what do you want?" He asks going behind the counter.

"Could I buy the butterfly hoodie and blue tie-dye top please?" I ask and he passed them over the counter. "Sorry, how much is that?" I ask him rattling through my wallet.

"Oh, you don't have to pay, it's fine."

"No, I want to pay, I like supporting my favourite bands." I say with a smile and pass him about £100.

"Oh okay." He says and takes the money, he tries to protest when he realises how much I gave him but I walk away, smiling all the way back to my bus.

Later on in the day, it's The Maine's set and obviously, I go. It's amazing, they play my favourites and their stage presence is great. The energy in the crowd is crazy for a band of their size.

I have to quickly scurry away though because my set isn't that long after theirs, about half an hour so I hurry to the right stage

Sneaking backstage, I pull on my new Maine tie-dye t-shirt for the show and prepare for the show. It was a good show, the crowd were entertained.

"Thank you, Slam Dunk, you've been great! For those of you who don't know us we're Midmorning Apocalypse and we can't wait to see you again next time!" I finish the show running off stage along with the rest of my band.

After a few minutes of pure cooling down I descend from the stage and start to walk around the site again on the hunt for some good food. I don't find any as I'm distracted by the signing tent I was so excited for. I check who's in the tent and John's name is on the list, I guess they had a few minutes to spare for the fans so I get in the queue. It's not too long because some big bands are on right now but it is by no means a short queue.

After like half an hour's wait I get to the front and I observe as a light pink haze falls on the tall man's cheeks.

"Hey," I say nervously as I walk forward towards the table.

"Hey again." He chuckles quietly.

"You guys put on a really good show," I say with a smile. "It was a great set."

"I was just about to say the same to you." He replies and we both laugh. "I'm honoured that you're a fan of ours."

"I should be saying that. Umm… I'm (y/n)." I say holding out my hand to him.

"I know, I'm John." He shakes my hand.

"I know," I mimic his response and then smile at him before removing my Maine t-shirt that I bought earlier the tie-dye one. "Sorry, I'm not stripping," I assure and laugh nervously. "I was, umm, wondering whether you could sign it for me?" I ask, timidly holding out the shirt. He takes it graciously.

"I wouldn't mind if you were but of course." He says with a smile before turning to the shirt and signing it in a permanent marker.

"Thank you so much!" I say grabbing the shirt back afterwards. 

"You're welcome." He says slightly dazed. "Hey, after the festival do you wanna come to get some drinks with me and the band, that's what we usually do after festivals to celebrate?" He asks, standing up.

"Yeah, is this an offer for me or for the band?"

"Both, you're all welcome." He says smiling.

"Well, then I'll see you after then." I leave with a small wave and my shirt in hand. After I’m a little while away from the stand I let out a sigh of relief and a massive smile stays sewn to my face. Fuck yeah.

-

AN: I literally have no idea whether any of these singers are in demand but I like writing them anyways. If you have any musician requests then even if they're not on my master list just check if I will write for them (I probably will) then you can send them in.

I fucking love The Maine.

[eddiesblklvr]

FIX YOUR FACE. | JACK HARLOW

PAIRING: jack harlow x black!fem!reader

SUMMARY: “fix your face before i sit on it.”

WARNINGS: arguing, mentions of oral (f)

WORD COUNT: 900+

A/N: i got my idea from this tiktok. i love his page 😭 this took me two hours to write btw!

SKYE’S NAV. | JACK HARLOW M.LIST | REQUESTS

jack, druski, urban, and the rest of the group were chilling in the living room, laughing and making jokes. the front door opening and slamming shut, followed by a loud groan interrupts them.

they see her walking through into the living room, a few bags in hand. her long butterfly locs sway with every step she took, her sunglasses sitting perfectly on top of her nose. she’s wearing low rise black jeans, a hot pink tank topped cropped top that looked like it had been cut, and a pair of hot pink and white dunks.

she has her signature waist chain on, along with her playboy bunny belly ring sitting right above it, her butterfly nose ring in, and the many rings resting on each of her fingers (besides her thumbs).

she looks way too good.

“don’t fuckin’ hey me,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes. she drops the bags at her feet before stomping through the living room and into the kitchen.

“damn,” urban mutters, looking surprised as everyone watches the girl stomp away, but continues to roll up his blunt. visibly confused, jack stands from his place on the couch and follows his girlfriend into the kitchen.

“damn,” urban mutters, looking surprised as everyone watches the girl stomp away, but continues to roll up his blunt. visibly confused, jack stands from his place on the couch and follows his girlfriend into the kitchen.

“baby, what’s wrong? why’re you mad at me?”

“so you can sit on your phone all day scrolling through tiktoks and shit, but you can’t answer the phone?” she says bitterly, cocking her head to the side, with her hands crossed over her chest.

“when did you text me?”

“i didn’t text you, i called you four times!”

“y/n, come on, bro—”

“i’m not your ’bro’, first of all,” jack huffs, shaking his head, not even bothering to argue with her, how stubborn she was. he can admit, she did have a right to be upset with him because she was right, he hadn’t done anything all day. “so fix that shit right now.”

“okay, okay. you’re right, i’m sorry. i should’ve answered the phone,” he admits, lazily blinking his eyes while slowly nodding his head.

once again, she narrows her eyes at him. the look on her face causing her not to believe him. “you don’t even care. you know what, goodbye. i’m done talking,” she shakes her head, turning her body away from him to walk further into the kitchen. after a few seconds of silence, she turns around and sees her boyfriend still standing there, a deadpan look on his face. she waves him off, “bye, go sit with your friends.”

“now you’re doing too much. it’s not that deep.”

“how am i doing too much? i could’ve got kicked in my fuckin’ back, broke my leg, got drop kicked, and you wouldn’t know ‘cause you act like you can’t answer the phone!” they can hear the group in the living room snickering, trying not to make it noticeable that they’re listening. jack rolls his eyes before dragging his hands down his face.

“uh, is there a problem? fix your face before i sit on it.” jack immediately breaks, laying his head on the island as he laughs loudly. the group’s snickers turned into loud cackles as they double over in their seats.

“oh, a’ight, ‘cause i would’ve did it. im’a still do it after i get done talking to you,” she pauses, snacking her lips together, “jackman, get up!”

it takes him a few seconds but once he finally controls himself, he looks back up at his gorgeous girlfriend, smirking at the still annoyed look on her face, “okay, baby, keep going.”

“i’m just saying you need to answer the phone when i call, that’s it.”

when she turns her back to him, jack can’t keep his eyes from trailing over every inch of her body. he loves the way her waist chain fits perfectly around her waist and how her jeans fit so snug around her ass and thighs. he couldn’t stress enough how beautiful she is to him.

jack walks out of the kitchen and back into the living room, sighing with his hands resting on his hips. he doesn’t make eye contact with any of the guys, keeping his gaze on the floor. his friends are all looking dead at him, smirks set on each of their faces. “y’all gotta go,” he says, finally looking up at his group of friends, watching as they all fall back into their own fits.

“hey, can’t even blame you, brother,” druski speaks up, already standing from his seat. jack escorts them all out, tuning out their hysterics, too busy thinking about what’s about to go down as soon as he locks the front door.

quickly, he makes his way back into the kitchen, not even bothering to speak up. he turns his girlfriend around to face him before throwing her over his shoulder, grunting a little at the extra weight put onto it.

“jack!” she hollers, giggling while pushing herself up against his back. he continues to walk the two up the stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom, setting her down on the floor before dramatically falling back onto the bed.

“alright, mama, let’s go,” he smiles, watching the beauty before him continue to giggle while slipping out of her clothes. she ties her hair up into a bun before crawling onto the bed, attacking jack’s body and face with kisses.

she missed and loved him way too much to stay mad at him over something as petty as a few missed calls.

[wooyoungmybelovedhusband]

[8:50] | Lee Haechan (smut)

Pairing : Lee Haechan x F! Reader

#20 : "Looks like you forgot who you belong to, Want me to remind you of your place kitten?"

Warnings : SMUT, HardDom! Haechan, degradation, couple arguments, master kink (can you blame ME?), Haechan calls the reader kitten, Edging, use of gag ball, blowjob, slight cum play.

You and Haechan usually had playful fights which none of you took very seriously. But when you did have serious fights, it always ended with you both making up after one whole week or you end up fucking in your house. The members often hated it when you both fought because they hated seeing you both ignoring each other which also created a very awkward atmosphere.

Well today was supposed to be a peaceful day, until Haechan barged into your house, fuming with anger and he shoved his phone screen on to your face. There you saw a picture of yourself with a male friend who was hugging you. You rolled your eyes at that and eyed Haechan like saying 'what'.

"You're expecting me to tell you what when the fucking reason is in front of your eyes?" "Geez, hyuck calm down. Stop being so fucking jealous about every guy that I meet, let me breath please." Haechan's jaw clenched, "Okay so it's only a mistake when I'm jealous of a guy hugging you. Remember the day you slapped my best friend because she apparently 'got too close with me'. " You walked closer to him and looked up at him with furious eyes, "Yeah, that was because she looked like she was dying to get into your pants."

"Then what is he trying to do here?" You couldn't bear with him at this point and you turned around until your wrist was roughly pulled as he turned you back. "What? Can't explain? You love that attention don't you?" Offended, you gave him the worst reply to ever give an angry Haechan. "Oh yeah, well you know what, you might even accuse me that I love his cock. Well yeah I do, it might last longer than you."

And before you knew it, you were slammed against the wall Haechan looked damn angry. "You think you can fucking talk to me like that?" "Yes I don't give a fuck Haechan" And then you saw the way his eyes turned dark and it way too familiar for you to not understand what was going on.

"Well, Looks like you forgot who you belong to, want me to remind you of your place kitten? " Haechan's voice sounded deep as he pulled you to your room. And you found yourself being thrown on the bed as Haechan hovered over you, "Now you are gonna be fucking quiet and if you let out one sound I'm gonna use the gag ball." Scared, you nodded not wanting him to use that devil of a toy.

Soon, soft pecks were being delivered on your neck, as his hands found their way inside your shorts. You bit on your lip as you felt his fingers pressing against your clit, making him give you his cocky smile. He discarded your shorts and panties and threw them across the room, and soon he was two fingers deep in you.

You tried very hard to control your moans but when he thrusted his fingers into you at a rough pace, a breathy moan escaped your throat. And it definitely did not go unnoticed by Haechan as he furrowed his eyebrows, "Did you really go against the rules?" Your eyes widened, "Master I'm sorry, I won't make sound sorry-" "Did I give you permission to speak, kitten?"

Your eyes widened as your fate was obvious at this point. And before you knew it, the devil of a toy was wrapped around your mouth almost making you choke on your saliva. Haechan smirked at you, as he soon dunked his head as he gave you kitten licks on your clit.

Your moans became loud and muffled as you felt him eat you out like a hungry kitten. His fingers also fingering you faster, trying to get you to cum faster and soon you feel your orgasm approaching as you clenched around his thick long fingers.

Until he raised his haid and looked at you with dsrk eyes as he said, "You're not coming until I want you to." And soon he pulled his fingers away as you were left unfinished with tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. "Aww kitten, So desperate to cum now are you?" You nodded furiously as you looked up at him in hope.

"Well why don't you earn it?" He removed the gag ball and you held your jaw as it was sore. And when you looked up, you caught sight of him sitting at the edge of the bed with his legs wide open.

"Come here" You quickly crawled towards him as you got down on your knees in front of him. "You know what to do kitten. Get on with it." Your hands found their way to his pants as you unzipped his pants and removed his boxers with his help.

You held his rock hard cock as you pumped him up a bit before taking him in your mouth as you gave him kitten licks at his tip. Haechan's long fingers found their way between your golden lock as he gripped on them as he guided you to take his base. He chuckled lowly as he saw you gag against his cock, "What kitten? Too big? Can't take Master's cock fully huh?"

You immediately hollowed your cheeks around his cock and bobbed your head up and down as your hand caressed the base which couldn't be taken by you. Haechan released his grip on you and leaned back letting you do your work.

You fastened your pace as you wanted to get him to cum faster, and as you pushed your head down to take more of him, you could feel him in the back of your throat, making Haechan let out a loud groan as his hands held up your hair in a ponytail again. "My little slut. So fucking desperate to make master cum."

Not being able to control, Haechan thrust his hips into your mouth as his cock was now hitting deep inside your throat. Haechan pulled out of your mouth and his hands pumped his throbbing cock at a very faster pace. "Open" You opened your mouth as you pushed out your tongue to welcome his cum.

Haechan soon came on your tongue as he let out a series of curses under his breath. "Swallow" He said, still pumping his cock, his voice sounding dominating as ever. You did as he told and showed him your tongue again after doing so. His hands came to pet your hair as he finally praised you for the first time in the whole night,

"My Good little Slut."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Very random but I wanted to write an NCT smut so bad 😮‍💨 so here you guys go. Tell me in the comments if you want Part 2 for this.

- Jeong Aera

[bucksfucks]

mr. brightside

summary: the one where you fuck your ex’s dad.

pairing: ex’s!dad!bucky x f!reader

word count: 1,997 words

warnings: age-gap [20’s versus 40’s], cheating, divorce, sexual tension, teasing, revenge, protected sex, pet-names [sweets], squirting, oral, overstimulation, slight orgasm denial/edging, taunting, praise kink, metal arm kink, slight mocking — 18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

The Killers were onto something, they really truly were when they wrote the lyric it started out with a kiss.

Because it was only just a kiss.

You didn’t know how it ended up like this, it was only just a kiss.

Except it wasn’t just a kiss.

At least not for your boyf—sorry, ex boyfriend.

He sure as hell did a lot more than just a kiss. Hitting all three bases in fact, slam dunking on them or whatever the fucking term is.

He did it all.

The worst part? He didn’t even cover his tracks properly, leaving you to find the evidence: panties shoved underneath the bed when you bent down to find the stupid earring backing that fell from your fingers.

You really wished you’d never bent down to find it, uncovering the pretty lace thong.

It wasn’t yours, never quite comfortably fitting into them before swearing them off. Your butt was plenty cute anyways.

Yet another part of you is glad that you found them because you would have never ended up in the position you were in.

Revenge tasted sweet and you really didn’t care about the consequences.

No, not when Bucky Barnes, your ex’s father was between your legs speaking Greek and making you moan his name.

Let’s rewind for a second.

You expected him to be there. For him to be opening the door. So when it wasn’t in fact him, but his father, well you were pleasantly surprised.

Call it what you want, but Bucky Barnes was hot.

He was a certified dilf, the ones you’d see at Disneyland and go damn, wish that was me.

And he was divorced, newly divorced. No one but a few people knew the details — you being one of them.

It had been a long time coming, apparently, neither of them putting up a fight as they signed divorce papers and she left.

He kept the house, busying himself with repair work as he told you he was looking to sell it and start fresh.

A new life. Some new experiences. New people.

You saw the way he looked at you, you weren’t blind to the fact that he licked his lips every time you wore something revealing or tight or really, anything.

He placed his hand on the small of your back whispering jus’ gettin’ by ya as a shudder went through your body.

How his son turned out to be a cheating dirtbag you’d never know. Quite frankly, you didn’t want to either because well, you wanted revenge.

You’d raised your share of men and God knows you were done with that.

Bucky was older, nearly twice your senior and maybe that was part of the appeal. Or maybe it was the bionic arm he told you countless stories of over dinner.

Whatever it was, he had you hooked.

So that’s how it started off with a kiss.

He had opened the door, moving aside to let you step inside as he put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed all while saying…

“Between you and me, he never could’ve treated you right.” Something about those words made you tingle, fire blazing inside of you as you had to take a deep breath and nod your hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes. It means a lot,” he chuckled, reminding you that it was Bucky and that you would have to start getting used to calling him that.

Oh how intriguing that statement was.

The tension was thick and you knew Bucky could feel it too. You could tell by the way his eyes travelled up and down your body — nothing but a tank top and some shorts.

“Here, you can drop his stuff off in his room,” he said before you followed him up the stairs despite knowing the blueprint to his house.

You scoffed to yourself, of course your ex was living with his dad. Not that there was anything wrong with that.

It’s just that he kept telling you he was gonna get his own place, you know, for privacy. Yeah, it’d been two years and he hadn’t even tried to look for his own place.

You also thought you should be a lot more upset and broken-hearted over this. Carrying up a trash bag of his stuff and yet…all you could focus on was Bucky’s ass.

He opened the door and you just dropped his stuff on the floor without a second look before your eyes were trained on Bucky.

And his on yours.

And suddenly you were on the bed.

Lip-locked with your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at the roots while he rutted his hips against yours before you finally parted for breath.

“You got any idea how sweet your moans are when you’re tryin’ to keep it down?” He whispered and fuck, it sent you into overdrive.

You whimpered, wanting to feel his lips on yours again.

Then an idea struck you, smirking as you licked your lips.

“Was always thinking of you, Bucky.”

That was clearly the right thing to say because he moaned into the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip as your heart thumped loudly, flipping at the prospect of fucking Bucky.

The way his hands travelled over your body, squeezing curves you’d grown to hate only for him to lust over. There was no denying that whatever the fuck you were feeling was real.

Even if it was a product of the moment; a product of you being cheated on causing your emotions to say fuck it and take what you’ve been wanting for years now. 

So that’s how you got to this place. 

With Bucky’s face between your legs, holding them open with thick arms as he lapped at whatever you had to offer him, making sure not to waste a single drop. 

“I’ve never heard you so.” He stops to think, “loud.”

One cocky motherfucker, you thought, but he deserved to be one when he had made you cum two, three? Ah, you’d lost count.

“Never thought I’d get to hear you moaning all for me.” He hums.

“It’s so much better than what I’ve been dreaming about.”

Your legs instinctively go to squeeze shut, but Bucky has other plans.

“Uh, uh, Sweets.” He purrs, “I know you’re not done, look at how wet you are.” 

His words made a shiver run down your body, thighs slick with your wetness and Bucky’s face was absolutely drenched as he continued to circle your clit with his tongue, rutting his hips into the mattress at the same time.

“I can feel how close you are…right on the edge.” He taunts, fingers curling upwards and brushing the spot you thought was a myth until that moment because no one had ever made you feel this good.  

“If you want it, “he smirks. “All you gotta do is ask.”

You whine, arching your back as you grip onto the bedsheets like you’ve never before. His fingers are still deep inside of you, but they’ve stilled, eyes watching you like you’re a helpless deer in the wild and he’s the starving lion who’s gotten a taste for you.

“Please,” you croak, “please let me come.” 

He groans against your pussy, wrapping his lips around your clit and you’re on the verge of tears from how fucking good everything feels. Your brain is foggy, head dizzy and everything is a new sensation.

“You’re not gonna come,” he growls, a whine leaving your lips out of pure frustration. “You’re gonna squirt for me.”

A throat wrenching moan rips through your chest, the wave of pleasure that washes over you (quite literally) curls your toes and steals all of the oxygen from your lungs. 

You had a taste of Bucky could offer you and you knew that there was no going back. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, “hottest fuckin’ thing.” He rushes out hastily before his lips are on yours in a deep, needy, and downright desperate kiss. 

A kiss where when Bucky’s tongue swipes against your own, you can taste yourself on him and it sparks something inside of you. A carnal need before he’s looking at you, panting.

“Are you sure?”

Holy fuck, yes.

You nod, “I deserve to be fucked until I can’t walk.”

Oh yeah, that’ll do it before you’re flipped over on your hands and knees, face pressed in the sheets until you’re left shaking in anticipation. Waiting and wondering when and what Bucky’s next move is going to be.

The crunch of the condom wrapped only make you squeeze your eyes tighter before you feel one cool and one warm hand on each of your cheeks.

“Poor little thing,” he cooes.

“Just desperate to get fucked every which way, huh?”

“Yeah,” it’s a pathetic little whimper that falls from your lips.

“Oh don’t worry,” you feel him glide through your folds before he’s lining up at your entrance. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

You inhale sharply, waiting for the moment he plunges into you, but in never comes. 

Instead, he bends his body over yours, mouth against your ear and you can feel his hot breath. 

“You really think I’d miss the look on your face the first time you take me?” God, his voice was so low and raspy, vibrating through his chest and onto your back before you’re flipped around.

“I just wanted to see that ass of yours,” he smirks. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly and out of sync, but Bucky doesn’t look anymore composed than you. 

His hair is mused, from your fingers being run through it as you grip it. Cheeks tinted and flushed a pretty pink, lips wet and love bitten with blown pupils as he drinks the sight of you underneath him.

Completely submissive. Completely desperate. 

Then the moment you’re waiting for finally comes. And you’re not sure it’s real because first time’s aren’t supposed to feel this good. Maybe you’re stuck in a dream, confined to your head and in a state of comatose. 

“Fuck,” it’s that low, almost a whine breathy pant that leaves his lip as he sinks into you. 

Head hung low as he watches his cock disappear into your cunt, the image being burned into his mind permanently now, sure to flash behind his eyes every time he closes them. 

“Feel s’fuckin’ good, Sweets. So tight and warm—shit.” He’s reduced to incoherent blubbering as he rocks his hips against yours, circling them as he watches how your face contracts in pleasure. 

Your mouth falling open, silent pants falling from it. How your eyebrows furrow and how you squeeze your eyes shut tighter every time he sinks back into you.

“And such a pretty sight, all for me,” he grunts, placing his forearms right beside your head, locking you in place. 

You can hear the low mechanical whirring of his left arm as he fucks you, deep and slow, in your ear and it only reminds you of how powerful he is. 

There’s something so intoxicating about him, how he smells like rich coffee and sweet oranges, but snarls at anyone who dares cross him.

“Oh I can feel how close you are, gonna make a mess all over my cock? Mark me as yours?” It’s a low taunt, a purr almost, as the bed creaks beneath you both. 

You can only control yourself for so long before he sends you over the edge for the last time that day, gripping him until he spills into the condom.

The moans that leave him are filthy, full of absolute sin, but you continue to dig your fingernails deeper into the skin of his back because he likes it. 

Both of you are entirely fucked out. Panting, trying to catch your breaths as you open your eyes and meet his. They have that hazy, post-sex glow that you knew you’d be seeing again.

It started out with a kiss, but you were glad it ended up like this.

[delcakoo]

彡 catch me! ❅*⋆ y.jw

requested for my 1k event!

SUMMARY ! seperated from your friend on a ski trip, you had just begun your mission to find him when a cute blue haired boy runs right into you, resulting in the both of you colliding and tumbling down the mountain together. one, slight problem: you have no idea how to ski.

PAIRING ! jungwon x f!reader

GENRE ! skiing au, pure fluff

WC ! 1.3k

WARNINGS ! none just you being a terrible skier <3

a/n: thank you again for the request dear, i loved writing this sm pls, writing for wonnie makes me so happy T-T

yesterday, you fell for a terrible, cruel lie.

kim sunoo; your best friend, your supposed dumb to your dumber, the boy you thought was a gentle, trustworthy soul, has abandoned you atop a mountain.

“c’mon y/n, i’ve wanted to go skiing for months, and it’s finally snowing!” he had begged, swaying you back and forth by the shoulders. “i’ll stick with you the whole time, i promise.”

well, you wish you could tell your past self to take that promise of his, crumple it up, and slam dunk it into the nearest garbage can.

where was kim sunoo? oh how you’d love to know. you probably resembled a lost penguin without it’s rookery, cluelessly scanning the crowd of skiers for his bright green puffer coat.

“yah, kim sunoo!” you pant, trying to shuffle your way around the snow even with skis on your feet, “as soon as i find you, you’re dead meat!”

the fellow skiers surrounding you offer you strange glances, but you pay them no mind. it shouldn’t be this hard to find a decently short, pink haired boy on a mountain decked in white crystal, yet a task has never seemed harder at this moment.

as you’re about to call out for your friend again, you look down, realising you’re getting a bit too close to the mountain’s edge for comfort. the giant hill is already full of talented skiers racing their way to the bottom, professionally gliding back and forth with the help of their poles. you shudder at the thought of trying to follow their movements, already imagining yourself with a few broken limbs by the time you’d reach the ground.

with that thought, you quickly turn away from the slope, beginning your attempt to gain some distance. though suddenly, the sound of a few male voices getting closer makes you raise your head once more. “race you to the ground!” one boy with blue hair says, sliding hastily ahead of his friend.

“oh, it’s on. i’ll be waiting for you at the bottom, jungwonnie!” the other replies snarkily, pushing down his snow goggles and heading right towards— oh shit.

your eyes widen, realising the boys are obliviously heading straight your way, sliding on either side of you. “uh! excuse me!” you alert desperately. if it weren’t for the damned ski’s on your feet, you would easily be able to move out of the way by now.

your heart beats faster and faster as they approach, letting out a worried yelp. finally, one of the boy’s notices you through his blurred goggles, turning out of the way. “hey, girl! watch out!”

the other boy, or jungwon, however, despite hearing his friend's words, was too late to stop himself due to the fact he was already much too close paired with the hill’s gravity propelling him right your way. both of you let out strangled screams as you collide, nearly falling over as you instinctively grab onto each other’s middle’s in an attempt to stabilise your ski’s.

“hold on!” the boy yells, gently gripping your waist and spinning your body to face forward just as the both of you begin sliding down the hill at a breaknecking speed. the chilly air surrounds you cruelly, adrenaline racing through your veins as you both fly down the hill. jungwon seems to be a much better skier than you, expertly angling his skis into a cross position to slow himself down.

however, his efforts don’t do much as you continue to drag him down with you, flailing around like a fish out of water. “i’m gonna die!” you tell him, practically cutting off the blood in his arm from how tight you’re grasping it. his friend is long ahead, too far gone to try and get back to the both of you.

the hill feels never ending, the bottom undetectable through the constant snow falling in front of you. “no you’re not,” jungwon insists, allowing you to hold his arm despite the uncomfortableness on his end. “you need to cross your ski’s, it’s the only way to slow us down!” his voice is just audible over the boisterous winds.

barely aware of your own surroundings, you somehow manage to process his words, gazing down at his ski’s, then your own. you try to copy him, awkwardly turning your feet inwards. shockingly, it immediately works, the both of you already easing down at a much slower rate.

“that’s it, just like that!” you look up just in time to see your new companion’s face turn into an adorable, proud smile.

wait a minute. through all the chaos, you’d failed to notice how cute this jungwon boy was. his silky blue bangs slightly covered his cat-like eyes, the tips glazed with fallen flakes of snow. you felt your heart ache at his gummy smile, watching in adoration as his red nose wrinkles happily. for a moment, you forgot that you were in the middle of skiing down a mountain, much too busy admiring the handsome boy next to you.

“look, we’re almost there!” he points out, using the arm that wasn’t being strangled by you to wave at the slowly visible hill’s bottom.

“we-we are?” you gasp, “oh my god, we are!” the excitement in your voice was evident, a huge grin growing on your face to match his. as you get closer, jungwon finally wriggles free from your grip on his arm, instead pulling your hand tightly into his, gloved fingers lacing together softly. you feel your cheeks begin to burn at the affection, praying it just looks like the effects of the cold weather.

it isn’t much longer before the both of you finally come to a stop on flat ground, instantly releasing huge exhales of relief. you pout when jungwon untangles his hand from yours to adjust his jacket, looking down at you with a teasing raise of his brow. “soo..” he begins, chuckling lightly.

“so,” you copy.

“i’m guessing you don’t ski much?”

you burst into laughter, shaking your head in disbelief of the situation. “nope, only here because a certain someone forced me to join him.” you barely notice the way jungwon’s expression changes at the use of ‘him’. “though as you might’ve noticed, he ditched me.”

jungwon nods, fidgeting with his gloves. “ah, i can help you find your boyfriend then, if you want?”

you choke in surprise, quickly raising your hands to reassure the boy. “oh no. me and sunoo? no way, he’s just my friend.”

“oh, that’s good.” both of your eyes quickly widen at his words, and you watch amusedly as jungwon quickly tries to cover his slip up. “uh- i meant i- it’s good that you’re um, not here alone!”

your shoulders tremble with laughter, watching the cute boy’s cheeks turn an apple red in embarrassment. “well then, until i find my friend, want to.. give me some lessons?” you entreat (not because you ever want to ski again, but because you’d do anything to spend more time with jungwon), gesturing to your ski’s hopefully.

his big eyes grow even more at your suggestion, blue hair bouncing as he nods excitedly. “i’d love to! i’m not a professional myself, though.” after patting his gloves against his jacket, the blue haired boy offers his hand out to you again with a smile, eagerly pulling you over to the ski lift.

jungwon doesn’t seem to care about the fact that he’s ditched his friend similar to how sunoo ditched you, much too preoccupied admiring your rosy cheeks and cute nose scrunch every time he made you laugh.

“it’s fine, as long as you’re prepared to catch me when i inevitably fall over.”

with a cheesy grin, he pulls you closer. “don’t worry, i’ll always be ready to catch you.”

if you enjoyed, reblogs n’ comments are always appreciated and motivating!

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