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burntoutdaydreamer · 6 months

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Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

#writing #creative writing #writer problems #writing advice #writing community #writing a book #writing problems #novel writing #on writing #writing tips #writing help #writers on tumblr #writers block #female writers #writers of tumblr #writers blog #adhd writer

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hoseoksluna · 2 months

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BANANA MILK | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader

genre: smut, a tiny bit of angst

word count: 5.6k

summary: when a porn video accidentally plays on his tv, jungkook makes sure you watch.

playlist: banana milk / pinterest board: wine

warnings: forced and consensual porn watching, crotch grinding, dom/sub dynamics, plenty of desperation, praise and degradation, reader has daddy issues (like the writer,) oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, biting, pet names and a particular title used, handjob, plushie used during intercourse, spanking, raw sex, squirting, size kink, multiple orgasms, cockwarming

note: this can be read as a standalone, however it's a part two of my fic 'wine'. you guys asked for it and i delivered. <3 i wrote this entire fucking thing in a trace and on my phone, and i still don't understand how i managed to do that. even though i struggled in the beginning, i enjoyed writing this as soon as i got into it. there will be a part three as well—from jungkook's pov. so as you read, look forward to it next sunday. let me know what you think in the comments, don't be shy! mwah ᡣ𐭩

Following the shapes of the sunlight on the parquet floors, your small feet are warm. The clicking of fingers on a sleek keyboard takes you, momentarily, into a hazy frame of mind. You feel as though you’re in a novel yourself, and the sound is a mere announcement that your steps, calculated in depth—thought through, plotted, and cared for—are counted by the man a few feet away from you, the writer, the long lost poet. Counted patiently throughout the rising action until they reach, at last, the climax. The notion unfolds within you, unfurls little by little in a way that you like, for it makes you feel exceptionally alive and poetic. It casts a languorous smile upon your shimmery face. Perhaps it’s due to the double meaning because you’re here for a reason. Or perhaps you owe that smile to the easy joy blooming in your chest, one that was sown hardly an hour ago.

You were in a bookstore, skimming through a paperback that enveloped you in blue dreaminess. The language you had the honor to graze with the pad of your finger was flowery in a way that stirred something within you—something that is noticeably sprouting to life. The furniture of the room was dark and antique under the yellow dimmed light, very much like the one you have at home. It was so you, a true personification of your whole being that made it quite difficult to leave, even though you had something to look forward to.

You were convinced it was your home.

A home that you came around to for the first time in your life—how strange.

You bought the book. It had to be yours, and you had to have a keepsake, a direct link to your hideaway. You set it by the wall next to your shoes and your purse with a pink photocard holder, pulling out a certain bottle of happiness that you brought along for your friend.

The sunlight strips take you straight to him, your feet—kissed by the sun—padding softly on the floor; the third step of the rising action. Jungkook sits slumped on his coffee brown couch with his laptop propped on his lap. His shoulders, clad in a denim sweatshirt, hunch in ever persistent concentration, a Word document opened and being swiftly filled with Hangul. Persistent enough that he doesn’t twist his head to greet you. He knows you’re there. Heard the sweet sing-song beep of his passcode being accepted, letting you in into his solitary life. Knows you didn’t forget it this time because he didn’t have to stand to his feet to open the door for you as he so often did in the past.

You wrap your arms around his neck from the back, tits squished against the nape from the low neckline you chose to wear for the day. It shreds his concentration to smithereens; you feel him inhale raggedly through his nose, fingers coming to a halt on the keyboard. You press your lips against his scarred cheek, not as plump as they usually are because they are still pulled taut into a smile, and whisper, “hi, Ggukie.”

He turns his head to face you from the side.

“Hi,” he breathes. There are peachy specks of glitter scattered all over your eyelids and you watch him study them, round eyes flicking between each one of them as if he can’t get enough of them—as if there are more for him to greet the more he looks.

And he’s right. There are.

His tender mien causes your heart to clench, overflow with a continual stream of endearment for him. You notice the mark of your guileless kiss on the apple of his cheek, the lip gloss pink and glimmering. Decide to leave it there. Decide it suits him well.

“Close your eyes,” he says, and you do.

He drifts the pad of his thumb along that delicate skin. Not to disturb the artwork, no. But to acquaint himself further with it. It’s been a long time since you wore glitter. It’s been equally as long since you were this happy—he senses it, the little iridescent stars tell him somehow. There’s so much of it that when he lifts the digit, the eye makeup stays intact, as if he hadn’t touched it at all. Jungkook flicks his eyes to the craftwork of his stained fingertip, the glitter, the stars nuzzling homely within the lines. Smiles as he mumbles, “pretty.”

You kiss him airily as a thank you. No hands, not anything. Just your lips puckering from the little distance between the pair of you. You retrieve the bottle of happiness from your back pocket and hold it against his hard chest.

Confusingly, with lips rounded, Jungkook looks down and gasps.

Banana milk.

“Come here.”

He hauls you down onto his lap like you weigh nothing, his laptop pushed away to the cold side of the couch. You squeal, pulling your hair as you lay against them and try to find a better position, discomfort painting your features in a way that makes Jungkook scrunch his nose adorably. He lifts your neck and gathers your hair, smoothing it down on the leather. You look up at him. The stars have migrated to your glossy eyes.

“Where’s yours?” he asks, hand placed on the crown of your head, the other clutching the chunky bottle protectively like a child.

“I already drank mine.”

Jungkook pierces the paper lid with the slim straw and takes a sip. Lowers it until it pokes you in the line of your lips. Nods at you, encouraging you to drink.

Your heart clenches again, and the thoughtful gesture makes it swell. It suddenly feels like your chest is very tight, like there’s no space for your organs. You massage the feeling away, wrapping your lips around the plastic, taking a few sips. No hands, not anything.

“You’re a sweet boy,” you whisper, a dollop of the creamy liquid adorning the oily pinkness of your lips.

A bright blush creeps along his cheeks, settling along the bridge of his nose as it ever so often does. Gazes down at you, then at your lips. Scrunches his nose again as he shakes his head, bending to peck you delicately, tongue swiping across your bottom lip, cleaning you up. His habit at this point.

“I’m a man.”

Your face grows hot. The imprint of your lip gloss stained his mouth and it worsens your state, deepens your dreaminess. You’re leaving small parts of your being as marks on him. You find that beautiful, in all its simplicity.

“Sweet and pretty,” you add in a hushed whisper, more to yourself than him.

Twinkles, akin to your glitter, flood his eyes and they deepen in thought. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and when he drifts the palm of his hand down your throat, curling around your collarbones, you realize he’s having flashbacks.

Wine. Neck. Tongue.

The cause and effect on your panties in mere seconds.

Your helplessness. The way you apologized for coming because you weren’t allowed.

Jungkook smirks and so do you. Lets his palm roam down to your tits, discovers only with the lift of his finger that you’re wearing a lacy blue bralette under your top.

“So easy to pull to the side,” he comments, more to himself than you. Doesn’t look at you when he begins to fondle them, transfixed by their fullness.

“That was my—”

“How was your day?” he cuts in, a breathy concoction of a hiss and a moan escaping his mouth once he feels your nipples stiffen under his hand. Index and thumb come and squeeze at that nub, coaxing a hum out of you.

Your brain degrades slowly but surely, metamorphosing into mush. You struggle with your memory, abruptly unable to remember where you were and what you did before you were half spread across his lap.

“Good,” you try. “Fantastic, actually.”

Jungkook smiles. Pinches your nipple again, fingers pressing flat and moving up and down. You moan out for him, writhing in a newly, softly burning desire.

“Really?”

“Yeah, went to the bookstore.”

Did you?

“Bought anything?”

His hand drifts back to your neck, never losing skin-to-skin contact, wraps around the column, then goes back down to your tit. This time, to your neglected one. Gives it the same attention.

You don’t remember if you bought anything.

Zoning out, you focus on the pleasure, fluttering your eyes closed. Figure this is just a meaningless talk that doesn’t require truthful answers or any for that matter. You widen your legs, calling out for his touch there. This is what you came here for. He doesn’t need to know about the itty-bitty parts of your soul.

Jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you up, guiding you to straddle him. You poke the banana milk, propped against the backrest, with your knee. Despite your now lustful haze, you’re careful not to knock it over.

A billow of the whole night lines his eyelashes, arousal blanketing his irises. You run your hand through his hair—can’t help yourself, you’re just obeying your body’s intimate wishes—and tip his head back, his soft strands sifting through your fingers. You draw near to his slightly parted mouth as if to kiss him, but you’re here just to tease him, to make him want more just like he did to you, hovering your lips above his. His slowly quickening inhales add much to your wooziness and you go to hide in the crook of his neck, but he stops you dead in your tracks when he says, “you came here to get fucked, didn’t you?”

Your laughter is but a breath. “How did you know?”

You kiss him there, incorporating your tongue, sucking the sensitive skin for a mere beat of time. And just like him, you discover why he likes kissing your neck as much as he does.

A film of goosebumps shrouds the small portion of the exposed skin of his chest that you’re allowed to see. Jungkook moans lowly, gripping your ass and pulling you closer to his semi-hard crotch, sinking lower into the cushion. Eager hands hook under the hem of your top and fling it out of you, latching onto the back of your neck and drawing you to his face.

He doesn’t kiss you.

He begins to talk.

“I waited for you all fucking day,” he murmurs against your lips, sucking in a breath of air as if there wasn’t enough in his lungs, as if voicing out his desire exerted his energy.

“All I could think about were those fucking tits,” he confesses. “Those hips of yours, so small in my hands. That pussy, fuck. I wanna eat it,” he groans, furrowing his eyebrows. “God, I wanna eat it.”

You nod to each and every word of his, grinding your pelvis against his, mewling into his mouth.

“You understand what I’m saying to you, don’t you?”

You nod again, your body begging you to be allowed to arch your back, but the grip Jungkook has on your neck prevents it from happening. The fire of desire burns bright, made bigger and blue by his spluttering sparks.

“‘Course you do, you’re my good little girl, aren’t you? Smart and educated,” he praises and your walls clench. “Let me eat your little pussy.”

“Please,” is all you manage to utter before he holds you steady by the waist and lays you down on the couch.

Your shoulder blade hits the remote control and a sudden echo of a girl’s moan booms through the room. Both of your heads swing to the TV to see a girl humping her teddy bear, barren down to her full femininity except for her panties. She plays with her nipples, pulling on them while flicking her hair back, hips rapidly moving back and forth on the nose of her big fluffy friend. Mesmerized and completely sobered up from your drunkenness, your clit gains a heartbeat, your teeth sinking into the bottom of your lip.

Jungkook hastily rummages around you to find the remote. You stop him.

“Leave it on.”

He blinks at you, mouth agape. You smile at him, thumb brushing along his knuckles as you take the remote from him and place it on the coffee table. The gesture smooths down the wrinkle between his brows. His blush deepens, the color of roses stunning you.

Undoing your jeans, he pulls down your zipper. “You want me to eat you out while you watch porn?”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

Jungkook sighs, sagging your pants down to the middle of your thighs. “Don’t call me sir or I’ll fuck you in the ass right here, right now.”

“Hurry, she’s almost done.”

He spanks you harshly and you squirm, quickly reminded of his need to be in control, but he listens to your need. Rewinds the video back. Slaps the remote back down onto the wood of the coffee table, which makes you burst into giggles and Jungkook smirks, folding you in half, dragging your panties to your jeans pooling above your knees. The center sticks to your core, causing him to growl, hand coming to wipe at the corners. The girl hops on the teddy bear. Moans fill your ears.

He kisses your clit. Pinches the back of his sweatshirt and hurls it at your head, obscuring your view. You huff in frustration, throwing it back at him, but he catches it. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“You should focus.”

“You going all in for me?” you ask, speaking of his nakedness.

Clothes come off on the verge of his climax, never before it; it’s so unlikely of him to discard himself so quickly. He usually keeps at least one item of clothing on, too hasty—too hungry to bother, until he can’t take the heat anymore.

“For you always.”

He dives into your pussy, tongue licking against your folds, nose pressed against your mound, inhaling you. Going up and down, he drinks you. Moans at the taste, eyes lidded and drunk as he stares at you through the little opening of your barely parted legs. You wish to spread them wider, the pleasure forces you to, but you can’t—the tight fabric won’t grant you the satisfaction.

“Take it off of me,” you whine.

He comes up for air. “No.”

You whine louder, fingers grasping at the waistband. Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them down to the cushion, thumbs resting in the middle of your palms. He doesn’t let a drop of you go to waste, sheathes his tongue into your warmth as he fucks you, nose rubbing against your engorged clit. You tip your head back, lose a sight of him for a moment, digits naturally wrapping around his thumbs like a baby. A litany of curse words, broken by your moans that sync to the girl’s sounds of pleasure, fall from your mouth. You don’t even look at her, too busy—too distracted by the man below you, by the way his open mouth works against you, his dimples hollowing into straight lines, so akin to the sunlight strips that led you to him, as he flicks his tongue against your clit.

You brush your fingers through his hair again, hold it at the roots through the small hole between your thighs. It provokes him enough that he looks up at you and finds you staring back at him. He growls against your cunt, a warning, the vibrations sending you back. Your eyes roll into your head and your hips follow, grinding into his glistening face.

Jungkook hums. Sticks around to see if you’re watching the porn, slowing down the pace of his flicks.

You’re not.

Coming down from that wave, your eyes set back down on him.

Jungkook peels his mouth off of you. Bends over you and grips your neck, pushing you down. The other hand spreads your slick all over your cunt, gliding back and forth. No pressure, not anything. Hearing your squelching noises, he mimics you. Also rolls his eyes back. Awakens the butterflies in your tummy.

“Focus,” he hisses.

You mewl. Ride his fingers to at least feel something, but you achieve nothing of the like.

He spanks your pussy, another warning.

You don’t listen. Can’t take your eyes off of him. Of the disheveled mess on top of his head, the sweat that pools at his hairline, the disarrange of his thick eyelashes from having his lids closed against your skin, the sheen of his nose, the wet puffiness of his lips, the kiss mark on his cheek. You take a deep breath.

It’s impossible to focus on someone else other than him. Especially when he licks his lips, the tip of his tongue sailing around the arc of his lips—the arc of your character development. Swallows the dewiness he called out like teacher to pupil.

You were a virgin when you met him. It was him who taught your body to get messy for him like this. His tongue that tasted your girlishness first. All your first times were with him and continue to be under his ever strict but safe supervision.

Under his custody in a way. You do call him Daddy after all.

“I missed your cuntie so much,” he husks, tightening his grip a tiny bit to emphasize the importance of his words. “But I can’t eat it if you don’t watch.”

His index finger turns your head to the side and his other hand travels down to your wet heat. The girl clutches her friend’s fur in her fist and fucks him slowly. With each roll of her hips upwards, you can see the shine of her slick adorning her folds. Jungkook sinks two digits inside. Can barely fit them in due to the way you clench around him. You fight his hold against your cheek, needing to look at him.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he whispers. “My horny little baby.”

He keeps them there, at the beginning of your hole, pumping sluggishly. Doesn’t look at the girl. Didn’t do so ever since the video started playing. His eyes only drink in your reactions, the twist of your features, the little sounds and breaths that break out of your mouth, gracing his ears, making his cock hard.

It disturbs something within you. Stirs it to life. Kindles it radiantly, adjoining it to the fire of your desire. You know what it is, but you can’t bring yourself to accept it. It’s a feigned reality, one of a novel. Not the one that could ever be applied to your life, burst at the seam, engulf the radius until it absorbs you.

You’re not that lucky. You’re not lucky to have him in that way.

You’re lucky enough to have him physically connected to you once a week.

But emotionally?

Tears prick your waterline.

“I want your tongue on my clit,” you croak out, reckon it’s better that you listen to him, watch the girl make herself come, follow her footsteps and go home.

Distance is safe. Distance heals everything, particularly emotional attachments.

Jungkook ceases his slow movement. Lowers your legs down so they repose across his thighs. Strokes the tremble of your muscles, removing your jeans and your underwear. Keeps that dangly fabric hanging off of the edge of the coffee table. Caresses your face as he says, “Daddy wants that, too. So bad. But you gotta be my good little girl and watch it. Then Daddy will play with your little clit.”

“Okay.”

He settles back into his position between your legs, enfolds your thighs around his shoulders. Placing a tiny kiss on your pussy lips, the soft fleshiness of your thigh steals his attention. He begins to plant big, wet kisses there. Alternates between nibbles and those kisses, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t make out.

The girl’s furry friend is drenched in her wetness. You buckle your hips with need.

“I want to hear your apology,” he orders, lips pressed against your skin.

You look at him and mewl.

“Eyes on the TV.”

He bites you.

You hiss in pain. “I’m sorry.”

He kisses the pain he caused. “What for?”

“For watching you,” you whisper, a lump forms in your throat and is softened by the look of endearment he gives you. Doesn’t reprimand you for keeping your eyes on him.

He latches onto the voluptuous part between your hip and thigh, marks you there. “And why did you watch me?”

You bite your lip to cage the words you really want to say behind your teeth, but some of them slip out. “Because you’re beautiful. Too distracting.” Because you look at me, and not at her.

Jungkook hums. Kitten licks your clit to reward you, lips wrapping around the bundle to suck it. Makes a sound of satisfaction, eyes closing to drown in the feeling. Lets go with a pop. Does it again. Suck. Pop. Suck. Pop.

You moan. Near to the last step of your rising action. One more and you’ll reach your climax. You keep your eyes peeled on the girl, her screams guiding you to that sweet release.

“My good little girl. Making me weak. Making me drunk,” he mutters against your pussy, blowing cool air against your dewiness; you shiver and he laughs softly. “Come for me, baby. Please.”

He sucks your clit again, but manages the pressure. Makes sure it’s light, so you enjoy it as much as he does.

“Keep watching it. You’re doing such a good job. Keep those pretty eyes on the TV.”

A new texture rubbing against your pussy surprises you and a moany gasp escapes you. You look down to find his dear Hello Kitty plushie in his hand and the different, rough sensation tears the rope in your belly.

“That’s it. Ride her. Fuck yeah. Make a mess on her for me. Good, good girl.”

You gush out, your orgasm taking over your body. Trembling, squirming, you thrash your hands in search of something stable that would help you ground yourself. Jungkook doesn’t slow down his movement but he finds your hand, finds the other one too, and pins them above your head. Bends over you and watches you closely, watches those waves surging through your body until they still.

He kisses you, then.

“Such a good girl for me. Well done.”

You struggle to catch your breath.

And there’s no oxygen left in your lungs when Jungkook begins to rock his hips against his plushie, the button of her nose pressing deliciously against your sensitive bundle. Your moans come out in staccatos, dry and breathless. Little squeaks of pleasure that make him crazy. Eyebrows furrowed, stare dark and fixed.

“Fuck, Jungkook. Oh, fuck.”

He laughs and you expect to be degraded, having realized that both of you forgot, for the first time in months, to do so, but he rams into her and nudges his nose against yours. Dimples prominent, mouth stretched into a grin. A sight to die for.

“I could come like this, baby. But I want to feel you. Need your little pussy around me. Might go crazy if I don’t fuck you,” he says hastily, chucking the plushie away. “They might lock me up.”

You might have wanted to go home, but who are you to deny him when he’s this desperate for you.

Butterflies swarm in your belly. And you laugh.

“Fuck me, baby. Come on,” you say, the pet name on your tongue scorching your whole body.

Jungkook hums, palms his hardness as the outline of his cock makes you salivate. While you reach for Hello Kitty to hug her because you need something solid to hold onto, he pulls out his heavy length out of his sweatpants. Wanting him naked, your fingers push down the material and you uncover that he’s not wearing any underwear.

You curse under your breath, your pussy drooling for you.

His member slaps against his stomach and you hiss, your saliva collecting in your mouth at the sight. He grips himself, throws his head back. You focus on his red tip, on the evidence of his arousal agleam in the sudden shadows of the room. The video stopped playing; silence replaced it instead. You care very little for it, entranced by his manhood, by his defined abdomen, the hardness and roundness of his pecs and the small, singular mole right underneath. You find yourself longing to kiss it, swipe your tongue against it and you fulfill your body’s wishes.

You get on your knees. Hello Kitty falls in the middle of them. Jungkook curiously watches what you’re doing and when you do what you longed to do, he moans softly.

“Princess,” he sighs, moans again when you brush your fingertips against his nipple. “You make me feel so good.”

“Yeah?” you question, looking up at him, fingers tweaking his nipple and he vocally shows you how much he likes that.

His sounds of pleasure, the variety of pet names and praise makes you feel woozy all over again. Your pussy dampens the plush fabric, adding to the mess.

“Feel how hard you made me,” he whispers, guides your hand to his length, wrapping your fingers around his girth; you show him, too, how much you like that. “Spit on it.”

You don’t have to be told twice.

Spreading your liquid love all over him, you grip him tight beneath the mushroom to coax that delicious hiss you love hearing. You begin to move your hand from there, sliding his foreskin up and down. His groans are a panoply of pure beauty that you wish to own forever. You wish you could freeze time right now. Deem this is as close to paradise as you could ever get.

This is where you want to be, for all eternity.

You lick over his nipple and Jungkook sobs. Sounds just like you when he plays with you and it makes you sob just the same. You hold it in, though, think this is a time reserved for him only. Concentrate on flicking the nub to make him feel good, squeezing his tip. He deserves it.

“I’m gonna turn myself in,” Jungkook whines. “It’s your fault.” He kisses the top of your head. “You made me crazy.”

You laugh, quickening the pace of your hand that soon slows down when he sultrily orders, “hump her for me.”

“Fuck,” you let out, eyes wide and round as you look up at him. “You want me to ride her?”

A rumble of agreement passes through his lips. “Make Daddy proud.”

You withdraw but Jungkook clicks his tongue.

“Keep your hand where it belongs.”

Your jaw falls open.

He guides you back where he wants you, meanwhile you rearrange the plushie and sit down on her nose, cringing at the cold wetness you left there.

You rock your hips once. The dull pleasure numbs your senses, electrifies your body. Before you’re even aware of it, you hump her like your life depends on it. Your hair lifts and falls around you gracefully in spite of your pace, little strays sticking to your flushed face.

“Slow down, fuck,” Jungkook groans, placing his hands on your shoulders and wrist to stop you. “Slow, baby. Can you do that for me?”

You listen, even though it’s evident you don’t like it.

He chuckles. “Good job,” he praises. “Fix your face.”

You smile up at him, cracking into a gentle laughter. Out of breath, out of your mind.

“That’s it.”

He kisses your forehead. Reaches behind him and grabs the banana milk. Points the straw at your lips. You gulp it down loudly. Jungkook fixes your hair in the meantime.

Sitting down, he hauls you onto his lap. Your back presses against his chest, the tip of his shaft aiming at the middle of your belly. It scares you, how deep he can go and you turn your head to look at him with wide eyes.

He squeezes your tits, pulls the fabric to the side. Pinches both of your nipples at the same time before he kneads the flesh. Your roll your hips against his manhood, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

“You’re just too small, aren’t you?” he whispers against your cheek.

You meow a soft sound that confirms his words.

“Won’t even fit in you. Need to stretch out you for me,” he says, hands traveling down your stomach. “Can you even take two fingers?”

There it is, the degradation. But it’s so tender that you can’t even believe your own ears. You mewl again, finding it so hot that he talks to you like this, knowing you took three of his fingers the last time he touched you.

“I can,” you say and there’s allure to your words, your pussy grinding against him.

He hums. Maneuvers you a little so his cock sits against your ass. Plays with your slick just to hear the filthy sound before he plunges two of his fingers inside of you. He curls them and is brutal as he pistons into you in fast jerks, the muscles in his biceps bulging. With his free hand, he makes sure you gaze at him and he nudges his nose with yours. His short breaths fan against your cupid’s bow and in return, you feed him your moans. He swallows each and every one, his pace never faltering, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your stream of pleasure shoots out onto the coffee table and Jungkook would miss it if his reflexes didn’t act out for him. He groans, strumming his fingers against your clit to prolong your orgasm, lifting you to ram his hard length into you.

You welcome him embarrassingly fast, smothering him until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Because he entered you mid climax, it triggers another one and you scream, thrash your body that he encages with his arms around you, one hand flying to your neck to keep you down. He presses his lips against your temple, lulls you with gentle sounds. Mutters apologetic words, words of encouragement, praise and reassurement. All while ramming his cock into you.

You’re forgetting the day and time. Hell, you’re forgetting your own age and name. All you know is dick.

His dick splitting you open as your head knocks back and forth.

He squishes your cheeks, pressing a kiss there, and it brings you back. You open your eyes, blink a few times. Yelp as he fucks you deeply and holds.

“You’re taking me so well,” Jungkook husks. “You always squirt for me, don’t you?”

You nod, dumbly. He plunges his fingers into your mouth to gather your saliva and takes them down to your clit. He rubs it, and he rubs it in fast circles. His other hand finds the soiled plushie and he crams her into your arms. You cuddle her, needing the comfort.

“If I had a vibrator, I’d keep it right here on your little clit the whole time and break you fucking apart.”

You clench around him, signaling him how much you like the idea.

“I know you’d like that. The thought of it won’t let me sleep. Might have to get it for you after all.”

Your surroundings are foggy. Another surge of orgasm reaches for you to get you. Your whole body shakes. You hug the plushie tighter.

You prop your feet on his muscular thighs and weakly, you snap your hips down on him, setting a steady pace that makes you see stars.

Jungkook ceases your movement. Grabs your waist tightly.

“Stop or I’ll come.”

You fight against him, pushing down on him. He lets you.

“You want Daddy to come for you?”

“Yes, please, I’m so close,” you squeak.

“Hold onto her then.”

He meets your thrust, groans at the impact, at the teamwork. Has a deathly grip on you and Hello Kitty that bruises you, stills you as he ruts into you, his balls slapping against your sensitive, abused femininity. You’re losing everything; you’re losing yourself in him, in his manhood, in his desire and pleasure. Submitting all that you are to him, willingly giving over all that you have left of your being. Knowing it will be safe, knowing you will be taken care of.

And with that you come, and you come hard. You coax his orgasm, beckon it out with the one final clench of your pussy around him. You milk him dry, stars clouding your vision and the warmth of his hot spurts of cum filling you to the brim. Jungkook whines.

He loses it completely.

Babbling sets of incoherent words against your cheek, he kisses you there, drags his kisses down to your jaw and your neck, squeezing you and Hello Kitty in his arms as his cock stays sheathed inside of you.

Two things you do make out when you come down.

A string of pet names directed to you. A bunch of ‘baby’, ‘princess’, ‘little girl’, all held close by the prefix of ‘my’. Held as close as he holds you.

And something else entirely.

“I love being inside of you. Whether it’s with my fingers or my dick. I don’t care. I just love being inside of you. You feel like home.”

He strokes your hair, over and over, from the side like that. From the crown of your head, past the curve, down the side of your neck. All while kissing your skin. Tiny little kisses that soothe you, lull you into tranquility, prove you utterly wrong.

But you’re still delirious from your high. You don’t realize what he said.

You don’t realize that your home isn’t within the walls of that bookstore but within the arms of the man that holds you.

And you don’t realize that he feels the same way.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part three

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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thebimbopalace · 1 month

Text

ᥫ᭡. 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁. older bf!nanami hcs that live in my dreams w/ tiny drabbles attached. sfw + n*fw

.ᐟ contains — f!reader, explicit content (mdni), foul language, age gap (reader : early twenties, nanami : late twenties), feminine pet names, reader is in college, use of y/n, fingering, riding, spanking

.ᐟ authors note — this is very self indulgent (especially the first set of hcs). i just want an older boyfriend to stroke my hair and call me a good girl.

older bf!nanami who takes you on weekly trips to barnes and noble. he knows that reading is your way of escaping from the stresses in your life (which he tries to make go away) so, he figures to indulge you whenever you’re feeling down about anything.

older bf!nanami wants you to know money is no object when it comes to what you want. your happiness and mental well-being are a top priority for him. although he expects you to complain when he does spoil you. and you always do, not that it matters to him. he just finds it adorable.

“but kento—“, “but nothing my love, you want books you’re going to get them,” nanami says adamantly as he drags you by the wrist into the bookstore. the smell of paper and coffee beans fills your nose and you visibly relax. it’s like all your worries just melt away, almost as if they never existed. nanami looks at you and smiles fondly as he sees the creases in between your brows go away, your shoulders in their natural resting position, and your eyes sparkle with excitement as they skim the massive bookshelves. nanami grabs a basket, takes your hand, and walks you towards the escalator. “you can get anything you want my sweet, no limits.”

older bf!nanami would take care of you. always making sure you’re eating enough, drinking enough water, and getting sufficient sleep. he just cares so much for you, and the last thing he wants is to see his sweetie pie not at her best. as said above, your mental state and health are at the forefront of his mind.

older bf!nanami knows college is a lot for you. class after class, homework after homework, it seems never-ending. and he’s proud of you for handling it all so well. from what you’ve told him in the past, proper hydration and food consumption weren’t even on your radar during college. how you managed to survive off of water and a granola bar is something he still doesn’t understand.

“hun, i’m home.” silence. “babe?” nanami calls out to you. still nothing. he decides to investigate. as he walks around the main floor of the home, you’re nowhere to be found. he walks upstairs and peeks into your shared bedroom and there you are. Laptop on the bed, papers spread out across the sheets, textbook in your lap, eyes glued to the screen. focused. nanami walks into the room and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead. “hi hun.” you mumble something that sounds like “hey,” as you keep typing away.

“did you eat today?” he inquires. no answer. but from the way your fingers slowed down on the keyboard, he got his answer. nanami takes his massive hand and cups your chin, forcing, albeit gently, you to look at him. “i’ll ask again, did you eat today?” he firmly reiterates. your eyes shift away from him as you mumble a small “no.” he sighs. not out of disappointment, but out of concern for you. his hand slides from your chin down your neck and tucks a strand behind your ear. “up baby, i’ll make you something to eat then we’ll rest together, m’kay?”

older bf!nanami is a foreplay enthusiast. sometimes, it’s more fulfilling to him than the act itself. the teasing touches, kisses, and gentle licks to your most sensitive spots. and it’s worth seeing your reactions.

older bf!nanami who knows patience just isn’t in your vocabulary. your little mannerisms to urge him to hurry, makes his heart flutter. the bucking of your hips, your whines, and whimpers make the torture worth it to him.

“ken, please hurry,” you whine as his fingers stroke your pink walls deeply. he keeps your legs spread over his thighs as your back is pressed into his chest. his warm breath brushes against your ear as nanami whispers “mmm, maybe i should teach you patience y/n by not letting this pussy cum.” your stomach drops at that thought and immediately shake your head, not wanting to be punished. a low chuckle escapes his lips. “good girl. keep bein’ that and you’ll be rewarded,” he says as his thumb circles your clit. “hngh, kentooo!” you mewled loudly as mouthwatering friction is applied to the hard bud. his giant fingers split you open while the pads knead your g-spot with accuracy. “gods that pussy’s jus’ clamping around my fingers baby. feels good, doesn’t it pretty girl?”

older bf!nanami loves it when you ride him. normally or in reverse. i mean, how could he not love looking at you in that position? feeling the weight of you on his lap as you bounce up and down, your tits in his face (which makes it easier for him to suck on your nipples), to the way you cling onto his muscular physique as pleasure racks your brain. truly a gift.

older bf!nanami spanks you when you’re on top of him. there i said it. whether it’s to urge you to pick up your pace or to just watch as the fat jiggles from the impact, he has to see it. and he knows you love it when he spanks your ass or thigh. somehow, the pain provokes you to move faster, harder on him. you just want to satisfy him, and he couldn’t love you more when you’re like that.

“don’t stop y/n, feels fuckin’ good,” nanami groans as the fat of your ass crashes on his lap with every bounce of your hips. his hands clutch onto your hips as his fingers leave indents on the skin. “k-kento, ahh,” you whimper as your pace slows down. your knees and thighs begin to ache from the constant up-and-down movements on your lover. a rough smack hits your ass cheek as he says “did i tell you to stop?”, “no,” you say breathlessly. “then keep going,” he growls as his hand spanks your cheeks again. and again. and again. with each hit, your movements speed up. it’s like the cramping in your thighs is nonexistent as his large cock pounds in and out of you. loud skin-slapping sounds vibrate through the bedroom as your moves never cease. “that’s my girl.”

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luveline · 3 months

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hi honey!! i have a request of sad spencer comforted by bombshell reader. maybe hes the one on the brink of tears and really shes just there for him please

thanks for your request!!! fem, 1k

Spencer Reid can't stop frowning.

“You know what I've been reading lately?” you ask him.

“Cosmopolitan?”

“That's just sexist.”

Spencer points at the copy of Cosmopolitan hidden between papers and an open book where it lies on the desk in front of you, a smile interrupting his frown momentarily. “Sorry,” he says.

“Oh, don't be sorry.” You squint at him ever so slightly as you cross one leg over the other and sink back into your borrowed seat. “That's on me. But, you know… this isn't my desk. That could be anybody's magazine.”

He laughs politely and turns back to his work.

“You don't wanna know what I'm actually reading?” you ask.

He stares at his keyboard. “Mm.”

He's not listening. That's alright. You don't really want to tell him about what you've been reading; it's just a book.

You slide your chair closer to his and peek at the computer. He's on a page for American Airlines, flights to Las Vegas, but he hasn't clicked anything. Spencer grew up in Las Vegas, and his mom still lives there alone in a sanitorium for the mentally ill. She can get really sick at a moment's notice. You know he’s been thinking about that more lately.

“Is everything okay, Spencer?” you ask quietly.

You incline your head to his. He looks up, at first surprised by your attention, and then abashed. “Yeah.”

“You don't seem yourself,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. You feel up to the crook of his elbow, waiting for him to shrug you off. He doesn't move. You stroke his skin with your thumb. “You can talk to me, you know? I hope you know that, anyways.”

“Yeah, I know, it's…” His voice wobbles. You lean in closer. “It's nothing.”

The first time you saw Spencer cry, he was in a hospital room being weaned off of a terrible thing, and it was sudden but expected all the same. He was suffering, recovering but in pain, and you would've cried if the roles were reversed. That was a long time ago. Seeing him upset doesn't get easier.

“Spencer,” you murmur, “What's wrong? You look like you could burst into tears. Do you need me to get you a glass of water?”

He shakes his head. You stay right there by his side waiting for the inevitable, the tears gathering in his eyes that he blinks away, and his painful swallowing. You have two hands —the one that isn't squeezing his arm jumps to his back to hold his stiff shoulder.

“Do you want me to get Morgan?” you ask, unsure.

It's a busy office, and you and Spencer sit on the outskirts closest to the offices upstairs and furthest from the hubbub. Nobody notices your closeness. You speak too quietly to be overheard.

“Spencer,” you implore.

He ducks his head, putting his hand to his brow.

“I'm okay,” he says, his voice stronger now, “it's just my mom doesn't sound right in her letters lately, and I'm tired, and I wasn't expecting you to ask me.”

“No?” you ask, giving his arm another tender rub. “Sorry if I'm upsetting you, Spencer. I was worried. You don't have to talk about it.” He winces. “But if you do want to, I'm right here.”

He needs a hug, you decide (unsurely). You stand and he immediately lifts his head with worry in his eyes, but you're not going anywhere, the opposite. You cover up his head and shoulders as your chin rests gently atop his soft hair, a gravel to your tone as you say, “It's okay.”

Spencer is silent. Slowly, tentatively, he wraps his arms around you in turn, and then he's squeezing you tight enough to feel it in your spine.

“It's okay, Spencer. We can talk about it, huh? We can work something out. It wouldn't be terrible for you to take a vacation every once in a while, maybe that's what you need.”

He breathes out against your sleeve. “Sorry,” he says.

“It's okay.” You kiss his head. He likely doesn't feel it. “I promise, it's fine.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to ask.”

“I know, you said that already.” You don’t tell him with any malice, just reaffirmation. “But I’ll always ask. I care about you, I need you to be okay, Dr. Reid. You’re my pillar of strength.” He laughs with self-deprecation, but you mean it. “You are. You’re always there for me. You’re always looking after me.”

“Since when do you need looking after?”

“That’s one of the best and worst things about you. You don’t realise what you are to people.”

Spencer screws his hands into your blouse and grows still in your arms. You consider scolding him about wrinkles to lighten the mood, but he’ll take you too seriously, and stop hugging you, and that’s not what you want. You try to be subtle about the comfort you’re giving him as you wrap your arms behind his head to close him in, hiding him from any prying eyes, but the longer you stay holding him the more attention you recieve, until even your stoic unit chief can't pretend this is appropriate for the workplace.

“L/N,” Hotch says in concern. “Reid. Is everything okay?”

Spencer seizes up and tries to push you away.

You lift your chin above his head and give Hotch your stickiest smile, arms moving to a more amicable position behind his shoulders. “No, everything is not okay, Hotch. You realise I only joined the unit to be with Spencer, right? And you punish me by sitting me halfway across the office!”

Everyone watching either laughs or rolls their eyes, used to your dramatic favouritism. Even Hotch seems tired of it.

“I’d be sorry if I thought that were true. Can you go back to suffocating Reid on your own time? We have some consults to look over.”

You widen the gap between you and Spencer, allowing him the space to collect himself. “If you insist,” you say, grinning brightly.

You stand in front of Spencer, heart aching as he sniffs quietly. He stands, and for a moment you think he won’t be alright after all, that your comfort was useless and he’ll need to excuse himself, but he draws a ghost of a line into your side with his knuckle and squares his expression. “Let’s get back to work,” he says to you with a small smile. You’ll talk more later.

“Wanna hold hands?” you ask.

“Maybe when everyone’s stopped looking at me?” he says under his breath, starting toward the steps to the conference room.

“Wait, really?”

He hurries up the stairs. You follow.

#spencer and bombshell!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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blkkizzat · 3 months

Text

WFH!Nanami

Work From Home Nanami = best house husband

a/n: lol this is nanami brainrot while I wait for my Toji fic to get beta'd so I know how dog it is. ETA: FYI, this is a semi-repost of a self-ship collab with a now deactivated account. I repurposed my selfship part to reader and expanded to WFH. cw: smut (pussy pounding, gagging on CAWK) fluff, nanami being the perf husband and male specimen per usual wc: 1.6k

WFH!Nanami doesn’t have to worry about waking up early to go into the office but he still rises with the sun to get his day started and do his favorite thing, which is to spoil you. Waking you up with gentle kisses, placing a hot espresso by the bedside and being your personal snooze button when you tell him 5 more minutes (he is so punctual it will be 5 mins on the dot).

You will still likely end up strolling into the office late regardless though because knowing you, you can’t start your day until you’re squirting all over daddy. But this is Nanami, he is nothing if not efficient so your early morning romp is definitely in the shower where he can clean you up after in order to get you out of the door sooner, your breakfast is already packed to-go.

WFH!Nanami love language is acts of service. You never stress about what to do for lunch either because there’s always a Michelin star worthy bento waiting for you next to your keys before you leave for the day.

In fact, what Nanami doesn’t know is that his bento is famous not only around your office, as your envious coworkers gather round to see what your perfect husband has prepared for you today, but also on TikTok. The ‘KentosBentos’ TikTok account you made has over 350K followers who not only watch for the mouth watering yet nutritious bentos but to also hear you gush over the cute little notes your hubby leaves for you.

Your top video has over 2.5 million likes and thousands of swooning women in the comments when WFH!Nanami made you an extra special lobster bento for your birthday and left you the note: ‘In all the world there is no love for me if I don’t have yours. Happy Birthday to my lovely wife, whose smile shines bigger and all the more brighter than the sun, moon and stars.’

Continuing with acts of service WFH!Nanami always has an equally delicious dinner ready for you when you get home. On days you work overtime and arrive home late, there's always a warm bubble bath waiting for you first. You love to rest with your back laid against Nanami’s utterly ripped torso in the tub while his thick arms envelope you. Relaxing into the safety of WFH!Nanami’s hold, your doting hubby kisses your temple and gives your keyboard fatigued hands a delicate massage. Nanami is nothing but a patient yet active listener while you recount your stressful day at work.

On days when you both get the opportunity to work from home you email WFH!Nanami a meeting invite to block off his calendar for 30 min during lunch. The invite is always titled ‘Ken and Barbie’s Lunch Meeting’. The location? ‘Pound Town’ The time? Noon, sharp!

Of course WFH!Nanami never actually schedules it on his work calendar lest his boss sees the meeting. (Gojo would never let him hear the end of it). As a result, since he never actually has the time officially blocked off, on some rare occasions he does actually get booked for a real lunch meeting at Noon that he cannot reschedule.

Meeting or no meeting though you are determined to keep your lunchtime dick appointment with WFH!Nanami. A noon dicking is a noon dicking and it’s a non-negotiable for you as you don’t often get to stay home from work!

WFH!Nanami is focused and poised during his camera-on meetings with his team. Therefore he doesn’t hear you open his office door. Nor does he see you as you drop to the floor with feline grace, hips swaying seductively as you crawl right under his desk. In fact, Nanami does not notice you at all until your soft hands grip his thick powerful thighs and you’re sliding your body up between his legs. Never faltering on-camera, WFH!Nanami’s stiffened jaw and tensed shoulders are the only tell-signs of you palming his rapidly hardening cock under the desk.

WFH!Nanami who tests the absolute limits of the stress ball he keeps handy (usually for tough negotiations) when he feels you press your hot mouth on the fabric covering his dick. You know your stoic husband won't ever outwardly falter when on the clock but you know inside he is a mess. That much is clear to you by the girth bulge straining against his tan fitted slacks.

WFH!Nanami who knows you are upset about him working through your ‘lunch meeting’, but wishes you wouldn’t torture him like this while he’s on the clock. He can tell you are enjoying yourself though as your sinful little tongue drags tiny kitten licks over the hard bulge in his pants. Soon though you are pawing at his zipper and pulling his girthy cock free through the hole, not even bothering to undo his belt. Taking him fully into your mouth, WFH!Nanami bites his inner cheek, when his boss Gojo makes a comment on how he looks more tense than usual when he should be thrilled after closing the biggest deal of the year.

WFH!Nanami who takes a long moment to deeply clear his throat before he calmly relays to Gojo that he is very pleased with the win but already thinking of the next big acquisition for their company. Yet Nanami’s voice hitches ever so slightly when your pink stiletto nails dig into his muscular thighs. It fools the rest of the team but Gojo merely raises a brow before cheerily moving on to the next subject.

WFH!Nanami spares a look downward at you once the work conversation has shifted to see you gazing up at his mouth full of his cock. You wear an angelic look as if he can’t tell the hand that left his thigh and is now slotted between your own isn’t furiously rubbing at your clit. He knows you are pleased at finally drawing a reaction, even a small one, from him while on the clock.

WFH!Nanami whose eyes twitch when he’s closing the call he sees his boss Gojo’s knowing smile and hears the start of the question, “So Nanamin… is Y/N, working from home to–”

WFH!Nanami doesn’t stay to hear the end of the question, quickly exiting the call and ignoring the message pings full of raunchy emojis he receives from Gojo.

WFH!Nanamiwho is still seated grabs you by your hair and ruthlessly face fucks you as soon as his camera turns off. He forces you swallow all eight and a half inches of him as you gag and slobber around his girth. Your jaw begins to ache but your eyes still roll back into your head with pleasure and you go limp in his grasp. You are willingly allowing your loving husband to turn your throat into his personal cocksleeve as you rub your cunt up against his leg, so close to cumming from the chafing of his slacks against your cunt.

Frustrated and annoyed it isn’t long before WFH!Nanami cums himself. His leg you are riding jerks up into you giving you the extra push you need as you moan around his cock and cream on his leg leaving a wet spot. WFH!Nanami has you choking down his thick seed. His cum and your drool dribble down the sides of your face when he finally slides out of the warm cavern of your throat cunny, leaving you panting as you try to catch your breath.

WFH!Nanami wordlessly wipes your face with the tissues he keeps on his desk and promptly ushers you out of this office, locking the door behind you. You aren’t upset though as you know what's in store for you once his work day is over. The locked door is more to keep him IN, than keep you OUT. Nanami would have to take the rest of the day off if he were to properly discipline you now. You being forced to wait and wonder how long he would take to finish his work was part of the punishment anyway.

You know WFH!Nanami is ready to administer your punishment once he calls you out by your FULL government name “Y/N Nanami!” Tonight is different and there is no dinner nor warm bath for you. Just a tired Nanami, weary of his bosses teasing and ready to take out all his frustrations on his wife’s naughty little cunt.

Your cunt in question nearly starts voguing in anticipation as heat pools between your legs once you are called into the bedroom. You already know what time it is once you see WFH!Nanami loosen his tie and take off his belt slowly while sternly saying your name once more.

The belt and tie?

Oh, the belt is used to tie your arms behind you and the tie is now a gag, for having such a filthy cock-loving little mouth he will tell you. It’s not long after that until you are face down, ass up getting pounded into the mattress as WFH!Nanami nearly cracks the headboard with the force he is using to thrust into you. Your cries of “K-Kento!” are muffled into the makeshift gag when a firm slap causes your ass to ripple more aggressively against his pelvis.

Nanami growls deeply into your ear.

“Welcome to Pound Town, Barbie.”

Any muffled cries for mercy fall on deaf ears as WFH!Nanami is too focused on his retribution for your earlier antics as he continues to wreck your pussy from behind. His heavy balls smack against your clit and your sloppy cunt echos vulgar squelches that bounce off your bedroom walls and erotically ring in your ears. The hand pressing your head further into the pillow beneath you is the same hand Nanami wears his wedding band on. It glimmers brightly even in the dimly lit room.

WFH!Nanami loves seeing his ring and remembering his vows in the moment. 💖

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or graphics, do not translate.

a/n: Nanami brainrot overload (i wfh! lord god when is it my turn, bring me a nanami i BEG) and day 18 without adhd meds lol, finally finished something though. Nerd!Geto and The Nursery ft. Toji is soon I promise!

reblog to get your on WFH!Nanami but comments and likes are always appreciated!

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trblsvt · 1 year

Text

for the books | jeon wonwoo

summary | wonwoo's students seemed intent on matching him up with a fellow teacher. he didn't really want to stop them, it was too funny for him to break up their fun. plus, he didn't mind the certain someone he was being "set up" with. genre | fluff, teacher!au warnings | none, i think let me know! word count | 2.2k words pairing | jeon wonwoo x fem!reader min | lowercase intended i literally put off my other works to write this! delulu era to the max! i advocate for women in stem!!! also! this is like an american high school-level setting. lily is so out of pocket LOL (believe it or not there is a girl just like her at my school). this was 100% self-indulgent

"mr. jeon!" his student lily called. "so you're telling me that after all that, she still hasn't kissed him?" he looked up from his desk and looked over to his obviously distraught student. "lily! i didn't even finish it yet!" her friend mina yelled at her.

"i'm sorry! it's just so crazy how they didn't even kiss! even after they made up and he said all of that to her!" lily huffed.

"what did he say to her? i haven't gotten there yet either," daniel piped in.

"just read it! i'm sorry i brought it up in the first place," lily sighed and pulled out the worksheets she was supposed to complete after reading the book. he shook his head and went back to inputting grades into his computer. it was silly to think lily was just going to do her work. "mr. jeon, do you have a girlfriend?" she asked putting her pencil down. he paused momentarily, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "dude, that's so not cool for you to ask mr. jeon," daniel complained.

"what? we're reading this romantic novel, is it not fair to ask our english teacher if he's in a relationship?" lily replied, crossing her arms. "i mean we have to be reading this book for some reason."

"maybe it's just a part of the curriculum," mina rolled her eyes.

"do you seriously think mr. jeon is sending us subminimal signals about his love life through the books we're reading?" daniel asked.

"i don't know! maybe!" lily said. the three of them continued to argue back and forth at their table. wonwoo should probably stop this before the other students get irritated with the trio. "guys, i can assure you, i am not sending any messages about my love life. please get back to your work," wonwoo cleared his throat. he heard a disappointed noise, but pencils went back to scratching and pages started flipping again. soon it was the end of the class period and everyone was packing up. it was just lily. "next time, please refrain from asking personal questions in class," he asked.

"yes, of course. i'm sorry mr. jeon," lily bowed her head.

"it's alright. it can just be a bit distracting for your classmates. let's try to be more considerate."

"will do," she said, turning on her heel.

"oh and lily, just between me and you," wonwoo paused. "i don't have a girlfriend."

"he said he wasn't in a relationship!" lily cheered. daniel stared at her baffled, "didn't he say not to tell anyone?"

"yeah, but i mean, he must know that i'm going to tell you guys. you guys don't seem as nearly as excited about this as i do."

"why would we be? he's single, it's not like you have a chance with him or something," mina commented.

"no! ew! i would never try to go after a teacher, are you crazy? i'm saying that this is a perfect opportunity for us to get mr. jeon a date!" lily practically squealed.

"a date? with who?"

"with miss ___, of course! who else? haven't you guys ever noticed that they spend almost every lunch period with each other? they're so cute together!"

"maybe they're just planning classes or something," daniel shrugged.

"um, hello? mr. jeon teachers english literature and miss ___ teaches physics b. what would they planning together?"

"touché."

"i think it's time to enact a master plan."

"so everyone understands this equation, right?" you said, turning back to face the class. "tell me now, so i can help. this equation is the very foundation to magnetism, if you don't get it now i can't promise you'll do well in this unit."

no one put their hand up. you smiled, "oh well, i guess we just have a bunch of physic masters in this class. but seriously, let me know if you need help. you can start working on your homework packet now, this way if you have questions you can ask them now. i don't need your frantic emails at midnight."

you returned to your desk and flipped through some lesson plans. you didn't get to finish eating lunch today, so you took out your lunch bag. a small slip of paper fell out of it and onto the ground. you smiled to yourself and reached down to pick it up. "miss ___!" your student lily said, she was standing at the foot of your desk.

"yes, lily?" you answered.

"i have a question about something."

"have at it."

"it isn't physics related though." you looked up, slipping the slip into your pocket. "then, what's it about? do you need to go to the nurse?" you frowned.

"no it's nothing like that, but i was told by another teacher not to ask questions like this in front of the whole class. he said it was inconsiderate," she shrugged.

"oh, um, well i guess you can go ahead."

"are you friends with mr. jeon?"

you froze. mr. jeon? as in english literature teacher mr. jeon? mr. jeon you eat lunch with him every day mr. jeon? maybe they started picking up on something. "well, yeah, i guess you could say that," you coughed. "why are you asking this all a sudden?"

"well, i came by mr. jeon's class before lunch to ask him about an assignment and i saw you there. i didn't want to interrupt, but i didn't know you guys were friends," she shrugged, averting her eyes.

"oh well, yes. mr. jeon started at his position around the same time i did a few years ago. so we got close because of that."

"that's so- i mean, i'm sorry to pry. i was just curious. i mean usually i don't see english teachers and physics teachers talk that much. thanks!"

the whole exchange left you a little baffled.

lily seemed determined to get you and wonwoo together. she began to pry more often and she was getting bolder one question at a time. she even asked if you were in a relationship and if you got you cute gifts for birthdays and holidays from your boyfriend. sometimes she got very bold and mentioned mr. jeon by name. "miss ___, don't you think mr. jeon is cute? you two would be so cute together." you had replied, "i don't think this is time or the place to talk about this, lily. please do your practice problems." you rolled your eyes, "i don't feel like i'm at liberty to answer that."

you couldn't bring yourself to actually discipline her or her friends (who had seemingly joined in on the deep dive about your love life). they were curious teenagers looking for gossip. hell, you were like that too. you felt it would be unfair to punish them for that, as long as it didn't get too inappropriate, you didn't mind. it was a bit endearing too.

you just had to push the thought out of your mind. it was time to go to lunch anyway. it was the perfect time to clear your head.

"has lily been asking you some personal questions lately?" wonwoo asked, leaning back in his chair. god, he looked so handsome today. his glasses, pressed shirt, and ironed pants. "yes, has she been causing a raucous here too?" you asked, taking a seat at one of the desks.

"well, she asked me if i think you're beautiful," he chuckled.

you paused. you would be lying if you said you didn't feel anything for the man sitting in front of you. he was smart and kind.

"of course, i told her you are a lovely human being inside and out, and to get back to doing her project."

"funny, she was telling me that she and her friends thought we'd make a cute couple." he laughed at that, and it made your chest flutter. you loved his laugh. "cute couple, that's so cute," he gasped.

"yeah i know right. who knew our students would start trying to set us up," you joked. he nodded in agreement getting up after his microwave went off from the other side of the room. "it would be so funny if they actually succeeded, but it does seem a bit pointless at this point, right?" he noted.

"yeah, totally pointless," you agreed.

you and wonwoo, being set up, by your students of all people. it sure would be for the books if it happened like that.

what an absurd idea.

the rest of the week went as usual, uneventful, but you did get to see wonwoo on the way out of the building and into the parking lot. he held his leather bag in his right hand. "on the way out today?" he asked. "don't you usually do tutoring sessions after school on fridays?"

"we just started a unit, and no one showed up after the fifteen-minute window. i'm out of here," you laughed. he smiled. you loved it when he smiled. "want to walk out together then?" he offered and pushed the door open for you. something about him was so calming and comforting. you smiled and averted your gaze to the floor. even after all these years, he made you a little nervous. you did miss the way he grinned when he caught your shy smile. he loved the way you smiled too. he couldn't wait to see it again, he needed to see it again as soon as possible. he was too lost in thought about the way you smile and the way your voice sounds, that he fell far behind you. "___, wait up," he called as you made your way through the faculty parking lot. he jogged to catch up to you and reached out to grab your hand.

"i swear i saw him kiss her out in the parking lot," daniel insisted. "they were holding hands too!" at this point, lily was totally unmotivated to get her two favorite teachers together. not after miss ___ shut her down on numerous occasions and mr. jeon was just as friendly but unbothered as ever giving his most PG answers. "whatever, daniel," lily huffed. "they would be so perfect together."

"he's literally telling you that they're together, he saw them kissing!" mina exclaimed. lily rolled her eyes. they were all hallucinating just to make themselves feel better that it was wishful thinking. "true love isn't real!" she cried.

"it's time to wake up, sweetheart," he mumbled. "you said you had lots of work to do today."

"yeah, well it's my day off too. i'll get to work later," his fiancé groaned.

"oh come on, i know you're desperate to do all that paperwork," he teased. he tugged on the warm body text to him to pull it closer to him. he loved waking up with his wonderful, beautiful, smart fiancé next to him.

he loved waking up next to you.

he knew the kids were asking about him and his love life. kids would be kids of course. "lily won't stop asking about my love life. it's funny since we both teach her," he said.

"i guess, she's never noticed the necklace with the ring hanging around my neck," you chuckled, nuzzling your face into wonwoo's neck. his arms easily wrapped around your body. he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "you know, lily asked me if i had a girlfriend the other week," wonwoo murmured.

"she asked me if i had a boyfriend too," you hummed. "i just told her that it wasn't appropriate to ask that in class."

"i said something similar, but i did tell her i didn't have a girlfriend."

you paused. why would he say that? he was very obviously in a relationship, well obvious to the two of you. he even gave you a ring and a nice dinner to cement your relationship. "i obviously couldn't tell that i didn't have a girlfriend because i have a wonderful, smart fiancé," he laughed. you breathed an internal sigh of relief, but you still hit him in the chest. "that's so stupid," you groaned. "you're catching everyone on a technicality." he thought he was so clever and funny, ever the wordsmith.

"it's so hard not telling the students," wonwoo whispered, and you nodded your head in agreement. he didn't know why the two of you didn't tell the students yet, but the relationship started a bit secretively, almost right after the both of you were onboarded. he guessed the two of you never got out of the whole secret relationship. it was a bit exhilarating keeping the secret between you and him, and the admin. he felt like a teenager again. "maybe we should ease them into it, but let's not let them think it was all them," you said.

"maybe it's time for you to start wearing the ring on your finger then," he commented pulling away to get a better look at you. "i can't wait for you to become mrs. jeon," he smiled.

"yuck, so corny," you rolled your eyes with a smile. "you need to stop with these cheesy sayings early in the morning." nevertheless, you leaned forward and kissed him. he kissed back easily, "come on, i know you like the little notes i leave in your lunch."

"i do, now be quiet and just kiss me."

"gladly."

he did have the whole weekend until he had to go back to school. at least you made the day a little better.

min | im just in a silly goofy mood LOL. my poor attempt at humor and portraying what high schoolers are like. wonwoo being an english teacher just makes sense!!! reblogs and comments are always appreciated! not proofread at the moment (it's 1 in the morning)

tagging: @a-wandering-stay

#seventeen #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #wonwoo fic #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo imagines #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen reactions

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midnightarcheress · 11 days

Text

woke up wanting to write something with my pretty boy kyle and this was born.

cw: nsfw. f!reader. gaz obsessing over the pretty college girl by his side. implied future stalking ig? unedited. part one | part two

someone catches Kyle’s attention on the plane.

his legs are on the verge of cramping and his breath is ragged, running to board his connection flight at the last call. after falling off a helicopter twice in the last operations, he developed an uneasiness of flying, no matter the aircraft, preferring taking the train over being miles up in the air, even if it triples the travel. but this time, he just wanted to get home the fastest way possible for a much-needed night of sleep in his own bed, instead of the barely cushioned military-issued mattress.

he hopped on the plane and made his way through the corridor, gaze fixed on the numbers under the luggage rack, attentively looking for his spot. he stopped by row thirteen, eyes darting between the number and the woman on the window seat. i could’ve sworn i marked that one when i booked? Kyle checks the boarding ticket again – row 13, seat A. it’s the right seat, why is there someone on it?

an annoyed sigh escapes his lips, gathering the energy to speak up and reclaim his rightfully bought seat. the problem is, he gets ultimately struck when the seat-thief notices him standing and turns to face him. wide eyes meet his brown ones, immediately softening at the sight of your tempting glossy lips and delicate fingers pushing a lock of hair behind your ear. pretty little thing.

“i’m sorry, is this your seat? it was empty on the first flight,” you say, an apologetic tone in your voice as you frantically close the book on your lap and shove it in a bag, “i’ll move back for you–”

“it’s alright, keep it.” he interrupts, throwing his carry-on in the rack and taking the empty middle spot beside you. he smirks at your appreciative nod and watches you settling again on the backrest, buckling the seatbelt at the shining signal hovering your heads and paying extra attention to the flight attendant announcements, even when no one around seems to care. sweet girl, so considerate to everyone.

the plane starts speeding on the runway, and from his peripheral he views your squeezed eyes and nearly white fingers gripping the armrest, breathing quickening during the gravity push of the take off. it takes a moment for you to release your tight grasp and exhale, making his hand twitch with an urge to soothe you, tell you that you’re safe.

he shakes the sensation and leans his head back, focusing on the one thing he can do to pass the time – sleep. but he can’t keep his gaze out of you, glancing to his left whenever you make a movement, no matter how small. the rapid keyboard tapping guides his irises to your laptop screen, catching a few words in a sea of what for him sounds like an alien language. DNA strand? allele? locus mutation?

he sneaks a look through your figure and his eyes land on the familiar blue logo on your hoodie, the same one he always sees on the walk from the market to his flat. uni a couple blocks from me. do you live on campus? or nearby? that neighborhood is awful at night, full of old blokes searching the pubs for a quick fuck with a naive college girl. but you seem smart, not the type to fall for their tricks, right?

the harder he tries to avoid your presence, the more you make yourself known, almost making him feel like it’s on purpose. the way your plump lips wrap on the water bottle, slight drop scaping on the corner and trailing down your neck, your flowery perfume filling his nostrils when you shift on your seat to remove the top layer of your clothing, exposing the low-cut blouse underneath and the soft roundness of your tits. is that for me, sweet girl? need a break from studying so hard? the sudden tightness of his trousers brings him back to his senses, stirring the thought out of his brain.

keep it cool, Garrick, he repeats over and over in his mind, ignoring the tent forming on his lap and praying to whatever god is out there that you won’t see it, even while standing up and brushing your legs on his knees to get to the corridor due the cramped space. however, he doesn’t miss how the guy by his side shamelessly ogles your cleavage when you step past him, making his blood boil and his fists clench – like he wasn’t doing the same exact thing minutes before.

while you're away, he glances at your screen again, noticing the constant message notifications from the contact ‘Marcus - DO NOT ANSWER’. already looking bad for you, mate. curiosity takes hold of him and he starts reading the texts, silently chuckling at the guy’s pathetic attempts to get your attention. what did he do to earn a cold shoulder, sweetheart? did he hurt you? didn’t he pay enough attention to you? i bet he couldn’t even fuck you the way you deserve.

he keeps skimming the messages until the grin tugging on the corners of his mouth fades into a frown when he reads ‘you’re gonna regret leaving me’. now, who’s this prick? think you’ll get away with threatening my girl?

his body stiffens when you come back, eyes darting back to the small telly in front of him when your hand brushes on his thigh while sitting once again. he hears your irritated huff when you skim through the messages, shutting the laptop with near violence. i can take care of him for you, love. you won’t have to deal with that by yourself anymore.

the pilot’s muffled voice coming through the speakers and announcing the landing shortens his daydreams about getting rid of Marcus. it would be a great way to keep himself busy while on leave, making sure to do it fast and secretly, of course, just to protect his sweet little thing. poor guy wouldn’t even know what hit him.

the pressure change on his ear is the telltale sign of the aircraft lowering its altitude, landing gear out to hit the lane and brake the machine. he turns to the side, watching again your knitted eyebrows and how your nails dig into the seat. this time he doesn’t contain himself and his hand gently lingers over yours, the softness of it sending lightning strikes over his body and almost making him cum instantly.

your glinting eyes find his face with a grateful gaze, lips mouthing a sugary thank you when the plane finally stops. he helps you take your handbag out of the rack with ease, using the situation to flaunt his muscles. i can even pick you up, darling. would love to feel your pretty thighs around my waist. you wouldn’t have to walk a day in your life.

his eyes follow the sway of your hips through the airport, heart almost bursting when you wave goodbye and flash him a timid smile. you think that’s the last time you’ll see him, he thinks this is just the beginning. a name and university? he’s used to finding people with even less information. see you soon, sweet girl.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz x reader #stalker!gaz #gaz x you #gaz smut #kyle garrick smut #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod x reader #nyx writes ☾#midnightarcheress

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honeybleed · 20 days

Text

— ★ CAPTAINS AS WORK HUSBANDS

content & warnings: fem!reader, post time skip, changed daichi to a firefighter because fuck the police (idea courtesy of deja 😁), kind of suggestive in oikawa & kuroo’s ones, fluff & crack

featuring: various captains (that i’m more familiar with): daichi sawamura, tetsurō kuroo, wakatoshi ushijima & toru oikawa

author’s note: my first written thingie for haikyuu, i’m so nervous i made them ooc ;-; ik i’m late but i really went from supporting my kuroo harem mooties from the sidelines to joining. divider credit to @/xxbimbobunnyxx

daichi sawamura:

Working with Daichi Sawamura was comparable to smooth sailing.

Usually, your colleagues, seniors and juniors could come to the agreement you were exhausting to work with considering your tendencies to play by the book.

No exceptions.

Regardless, the past few weeks of organizing assemblies for schools around the prefecture regarding fire safety with Daichi had been…pleasant?

It was going to be the last assembly and this time it was for the fifth and sixth graders, you and Daichi were sitting in your office tidying up the paperwork.

“It’s late…how are you getting home?” He questioned.

“Oh…the trains are still running. I’m saving up for a car.” You said with an uneasy laugh, a little embarrassed.

“Nonsense, I can drop you home.” Daichi smiled.

“No, no Daichi. I don’t want you to go through all that trouble, thank you for the offer.” You said sheepishly, overwhelmed by the kind offer.

“I wouldn’t feel right about a woman going home this late at night. It’s no trouble for me, at all.”

A sliver of mischief overtook you.

“What? You think cos I’m a woman I’m too fragile to go home by myself?”

Daichi gave you a vacant look before panic set into his system.

“What?! No, no! I don’t think that women are very- No, YOU are more than capable-"

“Daichi, I was kidding.” You giggled. “Honestly, I think it’s sweet you have that chivalrous nature to you. Too many men on the trains give me the creeps anyway.”

He drove a modest car. It suited him. Reliable and not too flashy.

There was an air of melancholy as this would be the last time you’d work together.

As he killed the engine when you directed him to the parking lot of your apartment complex, he gave you a warm smile.

“I really enjoyed working with you.” He said.

“I could say the same..” You replied.

“Forgive me for getting ahead of myself…but I don’t want this to be the end.”

“Huh..?”

“I want to keep seeing you. Would…you like that?” He asked, voice cautious not to overstep.

But you nodded.

“I’d love to keep seeing you. I enjoy your company, Daichi.”

Two people in their late twenties, blushing wildly as their fingers brushed over the gearstick.

tetsurō kuroo:

“I can see you, you know.” You said in a wry tone, your fingers flying over the keyboard and your eyes fixated on the screen of the PC.

“And here I thought I was a stealth master.” Kuroo said in mock defeat as he stopped peeking from the doorway and headed towards your desk. “Alright, tell me. What gave it away?”

“It’s kinda hard to miss that rooster haircut of yours.” You responded. “Not to mention the fact you have to bend over not to bump into the doorframe.”

“Figures. I got some gossip for you.”

“Yeah?” You said as you raised a brow. “Don’t keep me on edge.”

“Seems like Takuya the tech guy has the hots for you.”

“…Me?”

“Don’t act all humble on us now. You know you’re the resident hottie.” He chuckled.

“Big achievement in a workplace where the average demographic in the administration office is middle-aged men. What do you want, Tetsu?” You sighed. “You only compliment me when you want something.”

“Well, I just came here to tell you I warded him off. No need to thank me.” He grinned as he folded his arms.

“And why would you do that?” You questioned, astounded by the absolute audacity.

He scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t I? The man has black under his nails and had to be called into HR because his B.O. was considered a bio-hazard.” Kuroo said, adamant in his decision.

“Okay, but it’s not your place.” You snickered, amused but still wanting to scold him a little.

Kuroo Tetsuro didn’t mind a little nagging if it came from you, anyway.

“Well, I’m sorry for having your best interest at heart.” He sulked as he eyed you making your way over to him.

Suddenly, his heart began to hammer as you yanked his tie down so his face was close to yours.

“For a team player, you sure don’t like to share, huh Tetsu? I know you want me all to yourself but try not to make it so obvious to the others.” You whispered, breath tickling the shell of his ear.

Heading out of the small office, Kuroo stood as if his feet were glued.

“Fuck, not now…” He groaned as he felt a strain down his slacks.

wakatoshi ushijima:

“Here.”

You looked up to see none other than Ushijima Wakatoshi, brandishing a small bottle in his hand.

As his physiotherapist for the last few months, it was easy to note his habits. For example, he always made sure to turn up to your appointments five minutes early. On the dot.

On the rare occasion he missed it (which had totalled up three times over six months) he’d make sure to email you the day before.

Even if he was ill, he knew his body. He knew a virus was on its way even without experiencing symptoms.

You tentatively took the small bottle from his grasp and gave him a grateful nod.

As you fixed your eyes on the label, almost as if he read your mind he spoke with that smooth voice of his.

“It’s kefir. Good for gut health.”

“Thank you, Wakatoshi.” You smiled. “That’s very sweet of you. Go ahead and take a seat and I’ll be right with you, okay?”

He nodded but one word threw him off.

…Sweet?

Ushijima felt the tips of his ears heat up. Nobody had called him sweet before. He instantly jerked when you set a hand on his lower back and ushered him indoors.

You were used to Ushijima’s strait-laced nature so you were taken aback at him being jumpy at physical touch.

He took a seat on the padded examination table.

It was always funny to see Ushijima’s hulking figure in your office, you smiled to yourself as you eyed him looking around aimlessly.

It was a little hard not to stare at those firm tan thighs of his.

You’d caught a few of his games where he usually dominated the court. His interactions with others were usually brunt and nothing too interesting.

“So, how's the pain been since our last session?”

“It still flares up during serves and spikes. But it’s manageable.” He replied earnestly.

“Do you mind if I examine that?” You asked.

He nodded and shed off his tracksuit top, a white vest underneath showing off his broad shoulders.

He may have agreed but he wasn’t prepared for those soft, manicured hands of yours to begin to knead and palm his right shoulder and back.

“…There seems to be the issue.” You stated as he jerked and hissed at a particular section of skin.

“Wakatoshi, I told you to ice that area. Have you been skipping out on doctor's orders…?” You teased as you tilted your head.

“You’re not my doctor.” He said bluntly.

“I’m the closest thing you got to one.” You chuckled, undeterred by his frigid tone. Quite frankly, it amused you.

“We'll probably need to focus on strengthening exercises. Can you dedicate time to that?”

“I’m sure.”

“Good. I want to see you at a hundred percent for that game that’s in two weeks."

“You’re coming to the next game?” Wakatoshi asked, a little taken aback. He knew your work schedule was full to the brim since every athlete came running to you.

“…Is that a problem?” You questioned, arching an eyebrow.

“Of course not.” He swallowed thickly and then met your gaze. “I’ll make sure to be on my A game.”

“You’d better be.” You grinned as you slapped his lower back, earning a deep groan from him:

toru oikawa:

“Remember what I told you.” You hissed as you and Oikawa walked into the brightly lit press conference room after his win.

“Relax, relax…! You’d think I was such a nightmare to work with with all your worrying.” He chuckled.

“I mean it. You might be doing fine in games but your publicity is in the toilet. I’m not saying be all sugary but try to be a little gratuitous. Thank your fans…something!”

You froze when you felt his large hands plant onto your shoulders, eyes widening.

“What did I just tell you?” He teased with a glint in his eye.

“…I’m a publicist, Toru. Relaxation doesn’t exist in my world.” You said bluntly.

In your peripherals you noticed a flash go off, causing you to roll your eyes.

There’d always been rumors circulating about the sexy PR manager and Argentina National Team’s Number 13.

You always nagged Oikawa to shoot them down for his own sake since his fangirls were relentless but the most he did was drop a ‘will they/won’t they?’ answer which annoyed you to no end.

“Maybe when you get time off I could fly you out. They have killer massages in Bangkok. You could use one.”

“Just go.” You hissed, pushing his hands off. As he jogged over to the table, he turned around to shoot you a wink.

Oikawa was a natural when it came to commanding attention. As he stood at the podium with microphones, with his billion-dollar smile, the journalists and reporters were buzzing with excitement.

“Alright, alright. Sorry for the hold-up folks. I know this was the first thing on your mind when you woke up.” He chuckled.

You automatically facepalmed.

Your advice went in one ear and out the other. Oikawa was lucky he was handsome. Because despite how douchey that was, it earned a rambunctious round of applause and cheers.

After the cheers settled down, the first reporter stood up, clearing his throat.

“Firstly, I’d like to congratulate you on your win. How does it feel to lead your team to victory once again?”

“It’s as natural as breathing.” He chuckled. “But our opponents put up a great fight. I’ll give credit where credit is due.”

“Despite the adoration from your fans, you’ve faced some criticism regarding your unsportsmanlike behavior of riling up rivals. Any response to that?” A female reporter enquired.

“Well, I know my sense of humor isn’t for everybody. Luckily I got our publicist keeping reins on me. And boy does she keep the leash tight, if you catch my drift.” He said with an impish grin.

At first silence, then it was a sudden flurry of questions, reporters and journalists fighting it out to get the first question.

“Are you dating each other?”

“Are you single or taken?”

Toru Oikawa had a talent for sparking media frenzies.

As your eyes met, you gave him a chopping neck gesture as you grit your teeth, earning a belly laugh from him.

You were so screwed.

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