#a lil bit of drabble before going back to the study grind

[ventique18]

~ Sick🌡️ flirting ~

🌸: "Are you crazy? You'll seriously get sick if you don't stop messing around."

Malleus halted the heated kisses he was peppering across 🌸's shoulders, but kept his smoldering gaze unfaltering and true.

🐉: "Do you dislike it?"

🌸: "No... But you're gonna catch my fever..."

🐉: "Then do not think too much. I am not such a common creature to be brought down by a measly cold."

Then he advanced to 🌸's neck, making sure to plant teasing nips that enticed hot shivers on warm skin. 🌸 wasn't sure if the goosebumps were from his cold lips or from the actual cold. His tongue was surprisingly soothing and pleasurable.

🐉: "You do not have to do anything... You do not have to move an inch, even. Simply let me love you."

That accursed tongue did not settle for only the neck.

- The next day... -

🦇: "Oh dear, look at you. You haven't had a fever since you were a toddler. And that was when you ate so much ice cream and suffered from tonsillitis."

🦇, placing an ice pack on the boy's forehead: "Did you eat too much again?"

🐉: "Oh, I ate very well, indeed."

And then the fae prince cackled loudly. Lilia observed him with concern, but shook his head while fetching a fever medicine from the medicine box.

🦇: "My goodness, he's gone delirious."

[yeojaa]

they don’t love you like i love you, iii.

read parts one and two!  good things come in threes.  or something.  idk.  as always, ty to my beloved beta reader @hobi-gif​.  i post nothing without her - even if it’s just a drabble.  🥺

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  a lil bit of angst (only if you squint) but mainly fluff?  or romance?  idk.  they love each other a lot.  that’s about it.  wc.  1.2k.

“You look great.”  It comes in a warm breath of air that crawls across your spine and drags heat over every vertebrae, colouring the bare expanse of your back in ruby roses.  The colour blooms prettily, blending with the mosaic around your neck, little mementos left behind by the man that holds you recklessly close.

The softness of his mouth retraces the patterns from last night (from this morning, from less than an hour ago).  Hands - broad, firm, unrelenting - follow in tandem, slipping easily over the small of your waist.  He squeezes you, teasingly, with a giddy noise that reverberates deep in his chest.

You’re not sure what’s got him in such a good mood.

“I have to finish getting ready,”  you chide, though you’re not entirely opposed to the closeness of his body, how it feels like home despite the fact that it shouldn’t.  

Another kiss, straight to your cheek.  “Five more minutes.”  

“We have to go in fifteen!” 

He huffs - an adorably soft sound - and releases you like you’ve asked him to give up a limb.  But still, he doesn’t go far, dropping onto the edge of his low-profile bed as he watches you riffle through your - his - closet.  You really shouldn’t have anything in there given the fact you’d packed it up close to nine months ago now but he’s never been good at saying no.

Not to his parents, not to his students, and certainly not to you - the love of his life.

Which is probably why Jungkook’s about to do one of the stupidest things in the world.  This coming from the same guy who’d nearly ridden an ATV off a cliff during one of his best friend’s bachelor parties.  The same guy who’d taken a bet to play Chubby Bunny with hodo-gwaja and had nearly choked on it - just for a free forty dollar meal.  

“Gives me enough time then…”  You’ve caught on the moment he mumbles the words.  It’s like you’ve got supersonic hearing - or you’re just very well-attuned to his antics.  Probably the latter.

The amount of suspicion in your eyes should be offensive.  It crowds every other emotion out, replacing the darks of your irises with nothing but distrust.  “Enough time for what?”  

He’s been working himself up to this for the last eight weeks since you’d drunkenly blamed him for dating someone else.  Which had been, honestly, a completely laughable accusation.  

The two months doesn’t feel like enough, though.  If it were up to him, he’d have another month.  Maybe two, or even ten.  A year sounded good.  

You’re back to being elbow-deep in his closet, swiping through the few velvet hangers you’d brought over and then decided to leave there.  He’d be grateful for the distraction if it wasn’t acutely obvious you were waiting for a response. 

“Spit it out, Kook.” 

One breath.  Another.  The feeling that he wants to sink six feet under and disappear.  Then, so quickly he wonders if he might join the Guinness World Record Book for fastest speaker:  “Be with me.”

“Excuse me?”  You’ve heard him, obviously.  You’re far too still, fingers caught in the soft wool of a tartan skirt. 

“B-be with me.”  The words wobble, just the barest hint of his stutter coming through.  Hands fist and unfurl in his lap, smoothing over the softly textured fabric that drapes over his straining thighs.  They’re pants you’d picked out, insisting they made his ass look ‘fat with a ph’. 

When you turn, returning his favourite skirt to its spot, he almost wishes he hadn’t said anything.

“I don’t want to get married.”  It’s hard, non-negotiable.  It strikes out like a hot brand, as searing red as the Chanel rouge that paints your mouth.  It’d probably hurt less if you didn’t look so angry, as if you were tired of having this conversation.

He gets why.  He’s angry, too, but for different reasons. 

“I’m not asking you to marry me.”  

“But you will.”  Your exasperation is, frankly, a little offensive.  After five great years as a couple and even more as friends before that, Jungkook thinks you’d know him a bit better.  He supposes he deserves it. 

Just like you deserve the roll of his eyes, whites glaringly obvious as he reminds himself that this will be worth it.  That you - in all of your frustrating, absurd glory - are worth it.

“No, I won’t.”  

The way he says it doesn’t sound any different than anything else he’s said but your own expression shifts, tumbles and falls over itself as you study him.  There’s something close to hope, a flicker of it hidden just beyond the shadow of your stare.  He wonders how close he is to prying the door wide open or if it’d always been like this - a little stuck but never locked.  Maybe you’d never changed the key.  

“I’m not going to change my mind.”  You’re firm but not nearly as harsh.  There’s a tell-tale wobble in your chin, in how your mouth pouts and purses so prettily he wants to kiss you senseless.

“I’m not asking you to.”  

Hand is offered, palm up.  A question.  You stare at it longer than he likes.

“I love you.  You know I love you.”  Each word is enunciated with great care, like he’s worried one wrong move will have you slapping his offer away, leaving him high and dry like all those months ago.  “I don’t want to not be with you - not over something like this.”  

Once he starts, it’s almost easy, like the words come of their own volition, too quick for him to catch.  Shooting stars that light up the sky, full of promise and wonder.  

“I know you don’t believe in marriage.”

You had reason not to - you’d seen it tear apart your mother enough times.

“If you told me tomorrow that you’d marry me, we’d do it.”  He smiles then, wistful and far too handsome for his own good.  “But since it’s either keep you or lose you—”  He shrugs once, a roll of his shoulders that does little to dislodge the faraway look in his eyes..  “—I’m choosing to let it go.  Because I’m not losing you and I’m not doing this, this—”

The hand that’d hung between the two of you wiggles, noncommittal and limp.  Quite a good imitation of the light and breezy thing you had going. 

“—stupid friend bullshit.  We’re not just friends and I’m tired of acting like we are.”

You’re surprisingly silent, the shape of your mouth betraying nothing.  He hates that you’re so good at this - at holding your cards so close to your chest you might as well be a word championship poker star.  It’s so terribly different from him, who cries during really sad movies even when he tries not to and who gets too worked up during junior varsity soccer scrimmages.

“Can you say something?”  It’s almost whiny, puffing out his cheeks.  

“You can’t change your mind,”  you state, terribly serious.  Jungkook tries to ignore the utter unfairness when you step forward, close enough he can almost reach you.  “I won’t ever give you that.” 

Hearing it again feels awful, like nails on a chalkboard.  It doesn’t break his heart this time, though, and that’s a feat in and of itself.  There’s something else to look forward to.  He has to focus on that, even as he’s grinding his teeth and forcing his tongue into his cheek - telltale signs of his frustration.

“But you’ll give me everything else.”  Not a question this time.  

“Everything else.”

“Then that’s enough.”

[curly-bangtan]

#15 with yoongi - fluffy or smutty :D

#15: “you’re so annoying and needy… fine just come over here.”

Warnings: oral (f), lil bit of dry humping cos u know i love that shit teehee

A/N: Wow I love writing Yoongi, might have to bang out all the drabble requests for him while I’m at it… Didn’t mean for this to get smutty but oh well.

.

You let out a whine, high-pitched and exaggerated, and flip the page of your novel. Glancing up, Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice the slight irritation in your tone, or if he does, he doesn’t show it.

Hmph. Why is he like this?

Another sigh leaves your pouting lips. At this point, you’re not even absorbing the words you’re scanning into your head anymore, so you put the book down in defeat. Click click, goes his mouse. Your boyfriend is completely immersed in his music production, his big black headphones caging his ears, isolating him from the rest of the world. The rest of the world being you.

You throw your arms back to stretch like a cat, ruffling the neatly made covers of his bed. It’s a pet peeve of his, the way you never make the bed. You’d always tune him out when he would lecture you about not leaving your room in a mess; just because he’s your daddy doesn’t make him your dad too. But right now, you kind of miss his low monotonous voice droning on and telling you off.

Because even that, or just anything, is better than him not giving you the attention you’re craving.

But it’s also not in your nature to beg. He either notices that you’re lonely or he doesn’t. It’s his duty as your boyfriend to care about you.

“Ow!” You suddenly yelp.

Nothing is hurting, you’re just testing whether he can actually hear you or not.

Yoongi’s neck immediately snaps around, round poker face searching yours. You quickly pretend to rub the imaginary paper cut on your finger. His gaze lingers on your hand, flickers to your face, and to your disappointment, turns back to the screen.

Not even a word. Wow.

Feeling cranky at his apparent lack of concern, you whip your phone out and start scrolling so aggressively that the pad of your thumb feels raw. You can’t even muster enough care for the people on your screen. Cool, Yeji went to Tokyo with her boyfriend. Sure they look cute, sure you wish you and Yoongi were in Japan right now too, but whatever. Who gives a shit. Aggressive scroll.

One of Yoongi’s best qualities is how hard-working he is. One of Yoongi’s worst qualities is how hard-working he is.

Of course you love how he reaps the benefits of his diligence. His newest record got approved by his agency again and is currently being worked on in the studio with a new up-and-coming artist. You genuinely cannot be prouder of him. He does what he loves, and loves he does. That’s really admirable nowadays.

But, but, as his girlfriend, you would really wish for him to pay some attention to you every now and then. You don’t ask for much, just an occasional kiss, or even acknowledgement that you’re in the same room would be nice, thank you very much.

“Yoongi, I’m tired.” Code for: Yoongi, can you come over and spoon me so we can sleep already?

He grunts a response that vaguely resembles ‘go to sleep, I’ll be done a sec…’ which would be inaudible to any ears except your own, because by now you are trained to be able to distinguish his low grumbles and murmurs. You want to throw your book at him. Wait, that’s not even a bad idea. Because that would at least get his attention, piss him off.

Instead, you trud over and switch off the lights. But not before you change out of your clothes into his favourite SG shirt, the beige one since he’s wearing the black, purposely not wearing pants so he can catch a glimpse of your ass when you get up.

Yoongi clears his throat but averts your eye, the blue light of the screen illuminating his face in the new darkness.

You want to strangle him. Stupid sack of rice. What man ignores his girlfriend prancing around in his T-shirt and a sexy red thong?

Slightly too dramatic, maybe, you start pretending to call your friend Jimin. “Hey! What’s up?” You purposely don’t keep your voice down even though you know how much Yoongi appreciates a calm ambiance while working. A ball of satisfaction sinks in as you notice his shoulders perk up in attention. “That’s great! … Nah, I’m not up to much, just really bored and sleepy.” Emphasising volume on really. “Yeah, Yoongi’s good, working again of course. You know how he is. Haha, yeah I saw her post too, she’s in Tokyo with her boyfriend. I want to go so badly with Yoongi but he’s busy all the time ‘coz he’s doing really well with his music and all that… Wait seriously? Let’s actually go together!”

Okay, maybe you’re getting carried away with your narrative. But can anyone blame you?

Yoongi’s chair swivels so abruptly at you that you drop your phone, startled. He rests his headphones on his neck and watches you with that annoyingly blank expression of his.

Swiftly, you pick your phone back up to orchestrate your fake goodbyes with ‘Jimin’, excusing that you’re going to bed soon. You stare back at your boyfriend, awaiting him to finally say something.

He sighs. “Jimin smashed his phone today.”

Oh.

You feel the flames rush to your cheeks, soaking in embarrassment. You don’t even know what to say because what the fuck does one say when one gets caught pretending to be on the phone with someone?

“Is your book boring?” His back is turned from the screen, shadow casted on his face, yet you can tell that he’s frowning lightly.

You still can’t say anything. Mind in a state of malfunction at the humiliation.

“Let me see your paper cut.”

Shit. Caught twice.

“Um. It’s nothing, not even any blood, you won’t be able to see it.” Heat continues to flood your face. His bullshit sensor aas never failed him before, why do you even try to lie to him?

Yoongi exhales in exasperation, clearly fed up. And you feel small, diminished, guilty. “You’re so annoying and needy. I’m working, I said I’ll be done soon.”

“Yeah but you say that every time…” You half whisper half whine. “I just miss you, that’s all…”

For a moment, he just looks at you, expression unreadable as usual. You think he’s going to turn back to resume his work, but then he sighs and says, “Fine, just come over here.”

The smile immediately blooms across your face, it’s the pure and genuine kind of smile that infects all of your facial features. And in the darkness, you spot the slightest smallest quirk upwards of his lips too as you crawl across the bed to plop yourself onto his lap. His hands instinctively run up your bare thighs and rest on your ass as you straddle him. The chair turns from the momentum you induce so your back is facing his computer and his face is once again lit up.

Your arms snake up his chest and around his neck, their permanent place of residence. You bask in every drop of his attention, loving the way he silent studies every inch of your face.

“You called me annoying and needy.” Brows drawing, you pout at him, luring out more of his care.

“That’s synonymous with cute, don’t you know me?”

You giggle, forehead falling onto his. Your legs feel warm on top of him, especially as he begins to feathering up and down them, his fingers tickling your ass more and more each time. Goosebumps.

“You can’t walk around with no pants like that, baby girl.” You feel a sudden pulse on your clit at his name for you. His pinky is fiddling with the lace of your thong now, and habitually you press your crotch onto his. “You’re so impatient.” His other hand reaches for your face, touch trailing down your jaw so soft it feels like a ghost. “So demanding.” He squeezes your ass.

Nose brushing, Yoongi glimpses up at you through his lashes and you know you’ve won. He has succumbed to you.

His kisses taste like midnight coffee. Slow, lethargic, but no less passionate. He removes the headphones from around his neck without breaking the seal between your lips, hauling you further up his lap until you feel his semi-hard member jab at your core. And when you dare grind your clothed slit over him lasciviously, you both shudder at the friction, his own hips buckling up to meet you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your bottom, guiding your idle rhythm.

“It’s ‘coz I want you.” You whisper into his mouth. “I always want you.”

The throaty groan he releases is enough to gather a rich dampness between your legs. You wonder if he can feel how wet you are as you rub yourself over him.

“Well, if you had waited a little longer,” he pauses to nibble the skin of your neck, “you would have found out that I was planning on eating you out tonight as soon as I’m done with this track.”

Your breath snags in your throat, almost as if he had bitten into your jugular. Hands traveling up his shirt, you cosset his soft milky skin, he himself mirroring your action.

“And… are you done with this track?”

“No. But priorities.”

Yoongi lifts you off his lap onto the desk, his mouse gliding away at the contact with your side. And slowly, head burrowing under your shirt, he sucks purple petals onto your breasts, teasing your nipple between his teeth. Then comes the languid trail of kisses from your sternum down to navel, tongue marking a wet path to your cunt.

As he tugs your panties off, he peaks out from under your shirt, gives that lazy lopsided smirk of his that made you fall in love with him in the first place, then disappears underneath again. Kissing your thighs nearer and nearer to you slick, he props your legs over his shoulders and you can’t help but pull him closer with your ankles.

Fuck, you’re already a goner.

When his warm mouth meets your clit, you jerk up, narrowly avoiding slamming your palm onto his keyboard. If making music is what Yoongi is best at, then devouring your pussy is what he’s second best at.

Your moan is unsuppressed. Each time his tongue flickers around your clit, you feel a pulse of desire ripple through you. He doesn’t stop, showing no mercy because this is what you had ask for, so this is what you shall receive. You want him? You have him. And when he inserts two fingers while he sucks on your swollen bud, teeth scraping at your folds, you call out his name like he’s your religion.

He makes you come thrice that night. All times on his desk.

.

05/11/19

© Copyright 2019

[captain-mcdavid]

red solo cup - travis konecny (drabble)

i saw this pic and i haven’t been able to get frat boy trav out of my head since 🤷🏽‍♀️ @plasticfilth it just happened! (warning: a lil smutty)

Your eyes meet across the room for the untempth time, but this time he doesn’t look away. So neither do you.

He raises his eyebrows, inviting you over with a look but instead of doing that, you turn on your heel, not ready for the chase to be over quite yet.

It’s about an hour later and you’ve just finished your game of beer pong when he finally approaches you. “Hey,” He mumbles, a shit eating grin spreading on his face.

Instead of responding verbally you give him a gentle nod, leaning against the counter.

“Good game,” He switches his red solo cup from one hand to the other and you study his movements, hating how comfortable he looks. He’s smooth, and he knows it.

“You say it like you’re surprised,” You start, angling your body slightly away from him. “But thanks.”

The talk stops there, but neither of you leave the space. Both engaging in different conversations, you end up in a heated discussion with a guy across the ping pong about the power of placebos. It’s totally nerdy, but towards the end, Travis is completely zeroed in on you. You can feel his steel coloured eyes boring into you while you try to defend your position, but it’s honestly very distracting.

When your counterpart backs down, Travis is crowding you up against the counter and you’re looking up at him through your lashes.

“You’re so fucking hot,” His deep voice travels over the sound of the loud music and you smirk, pushing him back slightly.

“Down boy,” It fires him up a little, you can tell by the way his jaw clenches, like he’s trying not to say something back.

“Have you seen the pool house yet?” You don’t have time to answer his question because he’s already looped his fingers through yours, tugging you outside.

You follow him with a smirk, your abdomen starting to heat up a little bit in anticipation. This wasn’t your first hookup with Travis, and it definitely wouldn’t be your last.

He goes through the door first, shutting it immediately after you and pushing you up against the barrier all in the same second. You’re gasping into his mouth when he kisses you, whining when free his hand comes up to grip the base of your neck. His hold isn’t rough, at least not yet.

Wandering hands find hold on waist band of his shorts, pulling his hips towards you. His kiss is hard and excited, and you’re trying your best to match him but he’s always one upping you, making sure you know who’s in charge.

That doesn’t stop you from trying to fight him though.

Your leg comes up to wrap around his waist, and you pull him closer with it, trying to lean in to his mouth at the same time. It’s a move for dominance and Travis is having none of it, you know by the tightening of his hand on your throat.

“Trav,” You breathe against him, chest heaving up and down when he pulls away to push you towards the small sofa.

Your thighs hit the back of the couch and you stagger over a bit, bending at the hips. Travis’ hand spreads on your back, pushing you forward even further. His hips grind hard against your ass, and the throaty groan he lets out goes straight to your pussy.

The flowy shorts you’re wearing are discarded fast, and Travis’ hand is coming down hard on your ass. One look at the strappy underwear you’re wearing is giving him mixed emotions. Hot, but complicated. His finger slides under the lace band before he tugs it up and let’s it go.

You wince when it hits your skin even though it doesn’t really hurt, tired of him playing around.

“How- what the hell?” He grumbles, his hands trying to find the correct band to pull down. He must give up eventually because all of the sudden there’s a very distinct ripping noise, and no more constricting fabric.

“Travis!” You try to stand from your position but he forcefully pushes you back down. And then there’s a cold, wet substance sliding down your ass and through your folds. “Huh-, Travis- what the fuck!”

You turn to see the god damned red solo cup still in his hand.

“Did you just dump beer on me?”

“Shut up,” He grumbles, dropping to his knees. And that’s one thing that’ll have you speechless. His tongue runs up your slit and you gasp at the contrast. His warm breath on your cold pussy, it’s heavenly.

He groans against your core, and you let out a high pitched moan.

“Tastes fucking amazing.”