#and shift his dick back to its regular size

[achaotichuman]

Feyre- "I left you because you suck, and Rhysand's dick is bigger than yours."

Tamlin - *Laughs in shapeshifted Rhysand's dick to be bigger because it was the size of his thumb."

Lucien- *Laughs in told every single person on the face of the planet and that's why Rhysand insists on keeping all his friends strictly in Velaris so they don't hear the gossip.*

[billthedrake]

THE BULL (PART FIVE)

Mike felt extra horny all week. He'd jerked off the minute he'd gotten home from the city that Sunday, reliving in his mind sex with Kevin and the scene with Paul.

And the next day he stroked off twice, once in the shower before work and again when he got home, a nice long session capped off by watching one of his favorite videos of Dirk Caber being pounded by a young stud.

Tuesday night he'd hit the gym for a heavy workout after his shift. He got home and had a late dinner, then watched some baseball on TV. As his mind wondered back to Kevin Connors, yeah, Mike was boning up again. He pulled his prick out form his gym shorts, feeling its steel hardness. The 25 year old knew his endowment was one of his best selling points. Kevin seemed to love his size, even fixate on it.

Mike spit in his hand and rubbed the saliva on his dick, but it was still too much friction. He got up and made his way to the bedroom, where he found his trusty lube. It was a different brand the one that Paul and Kevin used and he considered giving theirs a try next time. He liked the feel, not as slick, it made fucking even hotter, particularly since he'd started doing Kevin raw.

He was picturing that raw daddy ass on his cock right then. "That's it Daddy," he hissed to no one, "Take my fucking dick..." He stroked it faster, feeling the pleasure rise, until heavy ropes of his sperm jetted out. "Fuck!" he growled, then trotted off to the bathroom to rinse off.

After that, the trooper avoided jerking off. It was a habit Greg and Joe had got him in. It had never occurred to the 19 year old Mike to skip a day of release, unless he absolutely had to. But Joe loved eating out Mike's loads from Greg's fucked hole, and he asked if the young top could hold off a couple of days the next time.

Mike tried it and it soon became part of his routine, whether Joe got to get felch duty or not. He loved the intensity of the fuck when he was keyed up like that, and it added to his anticipation for their sessions.

It was probably the first time, too, that he realized topping was just much a mental attitude as a physical sensation. He loved playing up his potency for the older couple. And the more he did the more they encouraged him. Complimenting him, boosting his ego.

Maybe that's why he went so deep with those guys, Mike reflected.

He wondered if Kevin and Paul were going to be long-term like that. Mike tried not to get his hopes up. Truth be told, everything had been so perfect, so incredibly hot, with those guys up till now. It was a different dynamic than with Greg and Joe, who'd guided Mike through the cuck dynamic. Here Mike was the one bringing Kevin and Paul along. And Mike had enjoyed the hell out of that. Even if things didn't pan out for the future, he'd be happy with the experience.

Or maybe not. Grr, something about those guys made him want more. And he'd been looking for a regular situation for the last couple of years.

****

It had actually been a tough week at work for the trooper, so he was extra glad when Sunday rolled around. He did his normal routine... gym, breakfast, shower and shave. He packed a bag, another bag with the duffel this time. He wanted to stay over again, but more than that he had a surprise for the guys.

Kevin answered the door this time.

"Hey Mike," he greeted, "looking good... Come on in."

Kevin was looking great himself. Polo shirt and jeans, both of which fit his body perfectly. Mike wasn't sure how much effort it took to keep a body in such perfect shape but Kevin Connors was magazine shoot ready. As he followed his host in, he reached down and cupped his crotch, rearranging the growing dick.

"Hey bud," Paul greeted with a handshake and a hug. Uncharacteristically he was the more informally dressed, just a Princeton T-shirt and mesh shorts. "Just got back from the gym, hope you don't mind," he explained.

"It's all good," Mike said. "Great to see you."

Paul offered him something to drink.

"A water's good, actually," he grinned as he sat down on the couch next to Kevin.

"Hey Daddy," he winked, his arm resting on the couch and legs spread, "good to see you."

Kevin smiled, scooting next to the hunky state trooper. "Good to see you too, man."

Mike leaned in for a soft kiss. "Um... nice."

Paul came in with the water and Mike took it, leaving his free hand on Kevin's shoulder. "How you been guys?" he asked.

"Doing well," Paul replied. "Busy week. Kev's been traveling a lot."

"Yeah?" Mike asked. "Anywhere fun?"

"South Texas," Kevin said. "It was hot as balls."

Mike laughed.

They made small talk, sensing no urgency to rush things. It was only noon, and they'd set up an earlier time to meet.

Finally Kevin changed the conversation topic. "So, Mike... Paul and I had a good conversation after last time."

Mike shifted to face the DILF, not interrupting but listening to what he had to say with a poker face.

"... and I guess I've been reading up on this cuck business, catching up with you and Paul. Turns out my husband is a big ol' pervert," he joked. As Paul laughed, Mike did too, glad that these guys were OK with whatever they'd talked about.

"... Paul and I both think it would be really hot if you were my bull."

"Yeah?" Mike smiled, elated. He'd had been playing the alpha with these guys but he didn't realize how much he craved this.

"Look at him, the guy's like a kid with a new toy at Christmas."

Kevin smiled. "Kind of like you were babe, last week, eating me out after he fucked me."

Paul grinned back, enjoying the playful banter with his husband. They'd seemingly been working on that, being more open about it.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Mike growled, "I am so glad you came to that decision."

Kevin nodded, pleased to see the enthusiasm from this younger man. "I got a couple of conditions though."

"Tell me, man," Mike said, taking liberty again to run his fingers along Kevin's shoulder and neck affectionately. "I'm all ears."

"1. No hardcore humiliation stuff. If Paul and I want to work in a little of that play we will, but that's not your job."

Mike nodded. Humiliation had been a big part of Joe's kink but he could live without it. "Deal."

"2. When you're our guest, you get to call the sleeping arrangements, but you gotta respect Paul."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Mike smiled, acknowledging Paul. "What else?"

"3. When I say to put a rubber on you put one on. And if you fuck other guys besides me, let me know. I know you're on PReP but I don't feel like getting any other STDs."

"Promise," Mike said.

Kevin nodded and continued. "The fourth isn't a condition but a request. A favor to ask."

"What is it?"

"On occasion we bring Paul into it. Make it a traditional three way."

Mike looked over. "Paul's a hot guy. I definitely have no problem with that.... Only how occasional are we talking about? I've never met a cuck who wanted to..." He was concerned about the dynamic.

"It's not for him," Kevin clarified, "it's for me."

Mike acknowledged that. "Understood. What Daddy wants, Daddy gets." Then he added. "You still OK with me calling you that?"

"It's growing on me," Kevin winked. "So... we good?"

"We're more than good," Mike growled and leaned forward and met Kevin in a deep kiss, as Paul looked on.

"Damn," Paul hissed. "You guys are beautiful."

Kevin leaned back. "Babe, I officially got a bull." He patted Mike's burly chest. "A big fucking hung young top."

"Guys you're making me feel like a piece of meat," Mike laughed.

"Oh yeah," Kevin growled, "that's the fifth condition. You're my hot, hung piece of meat." With that he pounced on the young cop, staddling his lap and making out with him.

"Oh fuck, Daddy," Mike hissed his approval, kissing along Kevin's neck and massaging the ass through the jeans. "You're so fucking hot." His hands travelled up the man's polo shirt, feeling the chest as they humped and made out.

"You want in me, Mike?" Kevin breathed.

Mike nodded. "Oh yeah... Only I got a surprise for you first."

"Surprise?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah. Get off me a sec." Mike's eyes followed Kevin's hot body as the man stood up in front of him. He stood up and met the DILF in a quick kiss. "Wait just a second, guys," he said and grabbed his duffel bag and made it back to the guest room.

Kevin looked at Paul with a quizzical expression. His husband shrugged his shoulders. He then looked at Kevin and asked how he was doing.

"Really good, babe. It feels right, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Paul replied. "Even watching you kiss."

Kevin sat next to Paul and met him for a kiss. It felt weirdly naughty kissing his own husband after making out with Mike, and the two men moaned as they swapped tongues.

"Love you, Kev," Paul said as they broke and rested their foreheads against one another.

"Love you, too, Babe."

In a few minutes Mike reappeared. Only he was dressed head to toe in his state police uniform. Shirt, trousers, belt, cap and knee-high boots. He strutted into the room, each bootstep heavy.

"Holy fuck," Paul said.

Mike enjoyed this. He always did, seeing other men's reaction to the uniform. He didn't break it out often, but for special occasions, it made the sex even hotter.

He stepped up to Kevin who looked up, wide eyed and horny.

"Go ahead, Daddy. Feel me up, if you like."

"I like," Kevin hissed and reached out and touched the material. Poly blend that was slightly rough to the touch. The whole thing seemed very snug on Mike's beefy body and the pants alone clung and stretched along the young man's thick thighs. "It's tight on you."

Mike nodded. "It's my old uniform actually. Probably three years old now." He reached down and unzipped, pulling out his fat cock.

Kevin didn't take it right in. Instead he leaned forward and kissed the thick shaft, which firmed up even more. "Jeeez... this cop dick is so fucking beautiful."

"Worship it, Daddy," Mike hissed patting Kevin's hair softly and guiding the man to his crotch. "Worship your cop bull."

Kevin did, licking and kissing the big cock and feeling it grow harder with each second.

As the 48 year old hunk took the phallus into his mouth, Mike leaned back, placing his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest. "Oh yeah." He savored the feel of Kevin's mouth nursing his bone. This was the sixth time hooking up with these guys and even in such a short timeframe he could sense that the man sucking his bone had gotten better at this. The first few times he'd struggled with Mike's size but now he seemed to relish it, taking Mike's dick deeper on each down stroke. Undoubtedly the uniform helped.

Paul looked on in rapt attention. He always loved watching this, watching his husband go down on another man. Particularly as one as studly as Mike. But the state police uniform just amplified it. Paul didn't consider himself to have a uniform fetish, not like Kevin. But the uniform was definitely enhancing Mike's masculine stature, which only fueled Paul's thrill at being cuckolded.

Mike looked at him, a twinkle in his eye. One that communicated a thousand words. A look that told Paul that Mike knew. Mike might hold back on the full cuckolding treatment, out of respect to Kevin's wishes, but he knew a humiliating phrase could get Paul that much closer to cumming.

That look sent shivers down Paul's body.

"You can get a closer look," Mike finally said. "Come watch your man suck my dick."

Paul nodded and felt like his dick would burst any minute he was so rigid. He walked over and knelt next to Mike, his face about six inches away from the meaty thigh encased in slate-blue polyester. Just a few inches further, Kevin was doing a bang-up job of sucking that cock. Really going down far on the thick inches, nursing it with suction on each bob. He enjoyed putting on a show for Paul, and his sucking got more intense as Paul watched.

Mike wanted to give an insulting taunt to Paul, but he held back. Still, this threeway connection was super hot. It was what he dreamed of when he first contacted these guys. They had it all. The looks, the personality, the deep connection of their relationship. He had to pull out of Kevin's mouth before he blew too quickly.

"Stand up, Daddy," he urged, and Kevin did. He saw Mike's face open for a kiss, so Kevin leaned forward and felt the young man's tongue press possessively into his mouth. At times Mike kissed with finesse at times the kisses were all sexual excitement and no skill. Kevin liked both versions. Especially making out with a state trooper in uniform. He took the occasion to run his hand along the shirt fabric, feeling Mike's strong body beneath. He knew he had a thing for cops. What gay guy doesn't? But being with the real deal was an incredible rush, so much hotter than he even could have expected.

Mike's hands were fumbling with Kevin's jeans, undoing them and pulling them down mid-thigh. All while Paul knelt, inches away. Kevin had gone commando and his sub-6-inch dick pressed like a spike against the uniform pants as Mike's hands gripped the DILF's hot ass and played with the buns, and soon, pried into the crack.

"I gotta fuck you Daddy," he growled. "Need it so bad."

Kevin nodded, letting out a deep grunt of assent. He pushed his ass back into Mike's hands, which gave a big smile to the young cop's face.

"Oh yeah, man. You bull's gonna bone you good." Their lips met once more, then Mike's hands gripped Kevin's waist and turned him around.

Paul watched as Mike reached into his uniform shirt pocket and pull out a small packet of lube. He gave a wink as he handed it to the husband. "You do the honors, bud?"

Kevin was smiling as he saw Paul take the packet and open it with his teeth. He had to turn around to see Paul drizzle the liquid onto Mike's fat erect cock, as the cop grinned down.

"That's good," Mike said and as Paul started to put some on his finger to lube Kevin up, Mike grabbed the packet out of his hand. "Uh unh, you don't touch him. Only I do."

It was an assertive statement that provoked a compliant, "yes," from Paul. Surprisingly it made Kevin turned on, too, particularly when he felt Mike's thick finger apply the lubricant to his hole, teasing the ring with the tip and pushing some of it inside him.

"Gonna skip the foreplay today, Daddy," Mike announced as he stepped up and slapped his huge meat into place. "Hold on."

Kevin wanted to tell him the uniform and make out session had been foreplay enough. And though Mike's penetration was steady, it wasn't rough. Kevin leaned forward, bracing his hands on his thighs, as the cop bored into him.

"Fuck, man," Mike growled, wrapping his arms around the DILF. "You got the best ass. So hot."

Kevin sighed. This felt great. Nothing to take away from sex with Paul but this was pure sex in all its intensity. A part of him still felt guilty that he enjoyed this big dick boring into him so much, but he looked down and Paul was scrambling underneath to watch the connection. To watch the bull fuck into his husband. That knowledge turned Kevin on and he bucked his ass all the way back down the remaining inches of Mike's dick.

"Oooh yeah, Daddy.... you want that cock, huh?" Mike growled as he felt his bone bury all the way inside. "You like getting fucked by a trooper."

"Hell yes, Officer," Kevin answered excitedly. Paul's eyes veered from looking at the connection point of Mike's dick and Kevin's asshole - over to examine Kevin's face. His husband was definitely excited by the uniform scene.

Mike pumped in and out a few strokes then pulled out gently. He gave a light slap to Kevin's buns. "Lets get Daddy out of these clothes so you can sit on my cock."

"Yes, sir," Kevin hissed, stepping out of his jeans and pulling off his polo. His nipples were erect with excitement, as was his prick, which dripped precum down its length.

Paul noticed. "Fuck, babe you're leaking." Kevin sometimes leaked pre-sap but never like this.

"Fuck, I'm so turned on," he muttered, turning around to see Mike sitting on the couch, in full uniform, his eyes barely visible beneath the rim of his campaign cover. From the unzipped crotch of the uniform the powerful cock stood up rigid and slick.

"Climb on, Daddy," Mike growled and both men hissed as Kevin just did that, wasting no time straddling the trooper's lap and settling back down on the cock.

"Oh fuck," Kevin grunted, feeling the different angle of penetration. It slowed his descent but not much. The cop looked on excitedly as the man fucked himself back on him.

Mike gripped Kevin's waist, feeling the warm flesh and gently guided him up and down into a steady rocking motion of a fuck.

Their faces neared one another and they kissed once more, the motion knocking the trooper's cover back.

"Oh God man," Kevin hissed, bracing his hands on the policeman's burly chest as he bounced up and down.

"I thought you'd like this," Mike said, giving little mini thrusts up into the man.

"Paul, you getting a good view?" he asked.

Paul was and he said as much. He sat, his face just a foot away from Kevin's ass, watching the bare cock violate the hole over and over.

"Go ahead and lick it, buddy," he said. He looked up at Kevin, wanting to be respectful of his bottom's wishes. "That OK, Daddy?"

"Oh yeah," Kevin replied. He could remember ever being so turned on. It got more intense to as he felt Paul's tongue lap at his hole, right at the spot Mike's cock was pressing in. The sensation just added to the rising pleasure. He wasn't sure how long he could hold off.

Mike was on a similar wavelength. "Buddy, that's gonna get me off. Right into your husband's ass." He looked into Kevin's eyes, seeing a pre-orgasmic daze in the bottom's face. "You about to come, Daddy?"

Kevin nodded, unable to speak. He was so close to orgasm.

"It's an old uniform, you can shoot all over it," Mike instructed.

That did it, the very idea of cumming all over the trooper. Kevin's head leaned back and he roared with an intesne cum, spurting hot seed all over the young trooper beneath him. At that moment, Mike was cumming, too, deep up inside his guts.

"Oh fuck, that's what I'm talking about," Mike sighed as he came down from his high slowly. His dick still felt good inside Kevin's hole. "Tell me you loved that, Daddy," he said reaching up to run the back of his hand along Kevin's neck.

"Oh I loved it all right. That was hot as shit."

Mike smiled. "What do you say we give your husband a present?"

Kevin didn't understand what he was referring to then seemed to. "My used hole?"

Mike laughed. "That, too. Only I'll let him clean my cock off if he wants."

Kevin got a naughty look on his face then raised up off Mike's phallus.

"Oh fuck, he's doing it, Daddy. Your husband's cleaning me off."

Kevin scrambled off to watch. Sure enough Paul was going to town licking the prick from tip to balls, licking off every trace of cum and lube from the dick. All while frantically beating his dick. It was a trip to see. The submissive position and then his husband's face turning red as he came.

"Oh fuck," he hissed, his mouth an inch away from Mike's balls as he rode out his orgasm. He finally leaned back, breathing heavily but coming down from the intensity of the sex that just happened.

"You mind getting us a washcloth and a towel, buddy?" Mike asked Paul. Polite but also controlling of the situation.

Paul nodded and stood up, his own prick still rigid and quivering.

"Damn, I don't think I've seen him that turned on," Kevin observed as he stood up.

Mike had removed his cover and was slowly unbuttoning his uniform shirt. "I could say the same about you, Daddy." He showed where Kevin's cum had soaked through. "This uniform is definitely going to get more use from now on."

Kevin grinned. Now that sex was over he felt self-conscious about the way he'd fetishized Mike's job but the young man seemed into the admiration. "So... dumb question. I didn't know how to address you just now. Do I call you Officer?"

Mike unbuckled his belt. "My title's Trooper. Trooper First Class to be exact. But civilians often address us as Officer and that's cool."

"All right, Trooper First Class Mike," Kevin winked. "That was just about the hottest sex I've ever had."

Mike pulled off his boot. "My goal is to remove the 'just about' part of that sentence, Daddy."

Kevin blushed. He didn't want to admit that this young man had done just that already. As he watched the trooper remove the second boot, an idea occurred to him. "You know, you keep calling me Daddy, but I don't have a nickname for you."

Mike looked up, grinning. "It's Bull. You can call me Bull." He saw Kevin process the idea. "You think you can get used to that, Daddy?"

Kevin nodded. "Yeah, Bull, I think I can."

Paul returned with damp clothes and dry towels for the other men. "What do you say we grab a bite?"

"Sounds good, Babe," Kevin said, giving his husband a quick peck as he stood up. It was remarkable how much more comfortable he seemed with the sexual dynamic, especially compared to their first time. It showed in his body language.

[cinnaminsvga]

Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font. 

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious. 

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie​ because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. “You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his “genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

[palbabor-writes]

Hellooo queen I hope you had/will have a great day. This is actually my first time requesting something so I’m very sorry if I do something wrong 🥺🥺... can you maybe write some fluff (OR NSFW I DONT MIND... just love him way too much damn) stuff for dabi?? I don't know if you only take requests with exact instructions or if this request is enough... if you need something more precise i will try to come up with something! Thank you very much!!

Hello, love! You did it perfectly & thank you so much for asking! I can be a bit of a lurker on things, so I totally get how much courage it takes to do one of these.

You did amazing & I love, love this question. I love it so much that I went ahead and took an old outline of mine & made it into a full blown fic for you!

Now, in honor of all the craziness swirling around our favorite flame user, Imma post it a little earlier then I’d planned! So, thank you for the ask & I hope to talk to you again ( ＾◡＾)っ ♡

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7496

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW 18+ only, mentions of blood and gore, heat play, dick piercings, adult language and freaking Dabi. That alone should warn you.

Thermós θερμός   ther·​mos adjective m (feminine θερμή, neuter θερμόν); warm, hot, boiling, glowing

It’s sweltering; the fervor of summer sticky, humid, and oppressive. Japan is in the throes of August, and this heatwave is not letting up. Even at night, it’s impossible for Dabi to get comfortable. He’s been lying, half naked, draped across his narrow twin mattress for the last few hours, sweating. 

His quirk isn’t helping matters.

He’s been trying to recruit new members. Every day, he sets out, pounding the pavement, sifting through the bits and pieces of trash that he runs into. It’s a pity. If those scrubs weren’t so fucking pathetic, he might not be in this predicament. But they are, and now he’s having to suffer the consequences of his temper. 

His phone gleams on his dilapidated side table, a text message chiming across the screen as it flashes a speck of brightness into the darkened room. Groaning, he leans over and snatches it up, his hands slick as he clutches the encased plastic. 

It’s Toga. 

As a rule, he tries to avoid her. He hates her chatter. It’s always some unending nonsense about those UA kids, about Stain, or about fucking blood. It’s always blood with her. Give her five minutes, and she’ll work it into her conversation somehow, even if it’s just blurting it out, a blush staining her cheeks. 

Fucking freak.

[ Blondie: 12:34 am ]

- found smth 4 u. (Y/N) has a place. Keeps it @ like 60 degrees… lol

Well, disgusting as Toga is, she has her uses; he thinks as he reads her text. 

He’d asked her, a few days before, if she knew a place where he could crash. Somewhere that had some goddamn air conditioning. The hideout’s unit is on the fritz again, not that it had ever worked all that well. 

Hmm, well this is something, at least. 

Dabi’s isn’t sure what to think about Toga’s little ‘find’. You were a newer recruit, someone that Compress had brought in. 

He hadn’t paid much attention to you. You didn’t stay at the base and were only around if there was a specific mission, or a task, that Shigaraki set for you. He isn’t even sure what your quirk is. You seemed easy-going, neutral, but he doubted you’d extend that easy-going demeanor to him camping out at your place for the A/C. 

Chucking his phone back on the side table, Dabi flops to his side and tries to drift off, hoping his exhaustion will let him ignore the suffocating heat he’s drowning in.

 Fuck. 

He’d done it again. It was hard to resist the urge when these people spouted such vague fucking bullshit at him. No one, not fucking one of them, could live up to his cause. And if they couldn’t meet that standard? Well, they were better off as ash, melting into blackened pools as the asphalt greedily soaked their blood into its cracked depths. 

There is a heat advisory today. 

He’d heard the news as he scarfed down a quick breakfast at the hideout’s bar. He wouldn’t be out for that long, he reasoned. Besides, maybe today he’d find someone good. 

Wishful thinking on his part. 

His skin feels oppressive and his staples and piercings are scalding, the metal hissing and steaming as he tries to dampen his quirk. It’s harder to regulate his temperature on hot days. He shouldn’t be out here, he thinks, snarling as he pats out a few rogue flames that catch on his dark jacket. Even lifting his arm to perform that simple task makes him grunt, hissing out a mantra of curses.

Shit, fuck, goddamn it fucking all. 

He looks bitterly up at the sun and debates his next move. 

He could retreat to the bar, but that doesn’t solve his problem. No, the viscous heat that radiated along those upper floors would just make his skin feel worse. Hell, it might even result in more mottling, his burns stretching farther along his arms and chest. He’s not going back to the bar.

Where the fuck even is he?

He peers down the alley toward the street. It’s not too busy; just after noon, so most of the foot traffic from the morning has died down. He yanks his hood up, ignoring the ache of his legs as he stalks toward the street corner. 

Carefully, he pokes out, his eyes tracing over the crosswalk, looking for the street signs. Ah. He’s close to that address, your address, that Toga sent him. 

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he saunters along the pavement, careful to keep his head down. 

You were out of town. 

He’d picked up that tidbit from Compress this morning. The masked man had been lamenting that you might be away for a few days, possibly weeks. Something about being on a fact finding task for that shadowy voice that talked with Shigaraki from his tv. 

He didn’t care, still doesn’t. All he knows is that you supposedly keep your place cold, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

You’ve got a nice apartment. 

It’s decorated in pleasing whites, yellows, reds and greens, with clean lines and modern touches. It’s kinda like you, he considers as he shrugs his coat off and breathes in that amazing waft of cold A/C. You’ve been useful to have in the League; efficient and no nonsense about the missions you're given and you can fit in with the outside world. You’d give even Toga a run for her money when it comes to espionage, he’s heard others say about you. 

Dabi tosses a distasteful glare at your narrow couch and pads toward your bedroom, shouldering the door open and stepping into the dark sanctuary.

Your bed looks nice. It’s a good size too. 

Lifting his boots from his feet and stripping down to his boxers, he presses into your clean sheets; shivering as the chilly air hits his overheated skin, cooling and dampening that oppressive sense of heat. He’s out in seconds, his body relaxing, slackening as he falls into the void of his dreams.

Yeah, now that he’s had this, there’s no way he’s staying at that hideout of the League’s unless he has to. 

You’re gone for the better part of a week. 

He’s started asking Compress about you. At first, the older man had given him an impassive stare. Since when did Dabi even know your name? 

He’s asking because he needs to talk with you about… uh… supplies? 

This, apparently, is the correct thing to say, because Compress nods his head sagely and elaborates on your timetable. You’re collecting things for Kurogiri and you’ll be gone for another few days. 

Good, Dabi thinks, slinking into your apartment again, lowering the window behind him. He’s careful to leave things as he found them, his entryway into your place included. You don’t need to know about this.

What the fuck would he even say to you? 

Hey, uh, it’s fucking hot at the hideout, and since you’ve got a working A/C unit and like 3 fans, he’s been sleeping over at yours. No big deal, right?

Even after you return, he keeps sneaking in. 

He’s gotten your schedule memorized, and he’s heedful of the hours you keep. You’re a little more regular than the others in the League. You actually sleep at night; unlike the rest. The others are often out at God knows what hour, combing for recruits and leads, but not you.

So, Dabi shifts into full night owl mode. He crashes at your place in the midmorning, after you leave for the day, trying to ignore the perfume that comes from your sheets. 

You’ve got a nice smell. 

It’s oddly comforting, and he hates when he accidentally burrows into your pillows; nostrils flared, inhaling that aroma that’s all you. While he’s never talked with you before this, he goes out of his way to ignore you now. 

What he’s doing is fucking weird, and lines are blurring. The other week he’d bumped into you coming out of the bar and he’d almost snatched you to him. 

You must have just showered, because that fucking scent was radiating off your skin. It’s nothing too, eh, feminine? No, it’s more like… oranges and sandalwood. It’s a heady blend of rich balsamic and citrus, and he can’t get it out of his head.

August has faded into September, and he’s still sleeping over at yours. 

He can’t help it. It’s not his fault your bed is so downy and, fuck, cool. It’s like the sheets don’t absorb his warmth. No, they’re always cold and they feel so fucking good against his staples and burned skin. 

It’s midmorning, closer to noon, and he’s dozing, his eyes heavy and drooping. He’s exhausted, so bone tired, that he doesn’t hear your door opening. No, he doesn’t even notice you until he hears your voice.

“Um, would you like to tell me why you’re in my bed?”

He’s on his feet in a flash, a slow flicking of blue flames tracing along his fingers. You’re framed in your doorway, eyes wide, stepping away from his aggressive stance. 

“Woah, woah,” you begin, lifting your hands in supplication. “Let’s just… take a minute and talk. I’m not-”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he snaps, his cerulean eyes narrowing, but he dampens his fire, a long curling of smoke framing his face. 

“Uh, I think you got that backward there, bud. You’re not supposed to be here, I live here,” you scoff, one hand propping on your hip, head tilted exaggeratedly. 

Dabi is about to spit something else out when you stride into your bedroom, tugging your jacket off and sauntering over to a tall dresser. He snaps his mouth closed and watches you. He’s not sure how he’s going to talk his way out of this, and he’s grateful for the reprieve. But, he knows an onslaught of anger or, fuck, preserve him, a lecture is incoming. Worst case, he thinks, observing you from his peripheral as you tug out a long shirt and some shorts, you’ll just kick him out and that will be that. 

You glance at him again, your eyes lingering over his exposed chest and legs, and he can’t help the scowl that breaks over his face. He’s not embarrassed, he’s just, well, he’s not sure how to classify that stare. Most people recoil or toss him a glance of pity, their brows wrinkled with worry and distaste. But you? You arched an eyebrow and smiled.

Fucking weirdo. 

Pausing in your doorway, you bite your lip into your mouth and carefully speak your next statement, voice smooth. “Look, while I’d rather you, oh, I don’t know, asked me about staying here. I’m not in the mood to argue with you, and I’ve got a long journey ahead of me tonight.” You take a deep inhale and toss him another smile. 

“Just… just lay back down and get some rest. I promise I won’t molest you,” you tease, and he snaps his head up at that, his chin jutting in agitation. 

You laugh at his sour face and he feels wrong-footed; lost. What the fuck? Who says shit like that? Who is in their right mind is just, oh, no worries man, promise I won’t grab your dick?

What’s wrong with you?

“I’m going to change and then I’m going to go to sleep. You can go, or you can stay, I really don’t care. All I know is that I’m not going to sleep on the couch when I’m in my apartment.” You retort, that grin still lifting your lips as you step away, the wall shielding you from his view. 

Dabi remains where he is; standing in your bedroom, clad in his boxers, his hands clenched into fists by his side. Somehow this is worse than you throwing him out.

You return a few minutes later and he can’t get a good look at you. You slink past him and are under your covers in an instant. Not that he’s trying to give you a once over, he snarls to himself, shaking his inky head. 

You nestle into the comforter and turn to your side, leaving him plenty of room on the opposite end of the bed. He blinks at you, a deep welling of uncertainty nestling in his stomach. 

You’re quiet for a long moment, your eyes closing and shoulders relaxing, acting like there’s not a wanted, deadly villain in your bedroom, paces from your side. Then, you twist, giving him a quick scan, your eyes lingering over his. 

“Either lay down or get out, Dabi. I’m not going to be able to sleep with you glaring at me like that. You look like some kinda ghost.”

Your declaration provokes a huffing, agitated reaction out of him. If there’s one thing Dabi hates, it’s being told what to do. 

He slings himself beside you, splaying out, his body laying on top of the sheets. You chuckle, your head peeking at him over your shoulder. He ignores you and tries to close his eyes. 

It feels strange, resting next to you like this. It’s… intimate, and he’s not sure if he hates or likes the sensation. He chances a glance at you, but you’ve already turned back to your side, your shoulders rising and lowering rhythmically. He shakes his head at your blasé reaction. How can you just, fuck, sleep? 

He can’t get comfortable and his skin feels heavy again. It’s not heat this time. No, now something else is making everything feel too close, too warm. 

He dampens his thoughts, mind frantically focusing on anything but you. As the sun slips behind the buildings across the street, his eyes lower and he fitfully sleeps, your rich smell filling his senses.

He’d left you in the night; tucking his clothes back on and easing out of your window. 

True to your word, you’d relegated yourself to your side of the bed, hardly tossing or turning as you slept. As he paced back to the hideout, he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. He just hoped you’d keep your mouth shut. He didn’t want the others knowing about this, it felt, well it’s not like him. Abrasive- fucking spewing anger and vitriol? Yeah, that was him. But this? This was too soft, too gentle. He hated it.

But that’s the problem with hate. It’s terribly close to that other emotion. They’re sisters, really. Usually love and hate exist on two sides, but they’re still the same coin, no matter how you toss them. 

You don’t act any differently after that night.

You keep coming to the hideout, giving him a vague smile and greeting before continuing your day. He’s acting differently, though. He can’t help but watch you, suddenly fascinated with how you move. He tries his best to shake himself from his musings, but sometimes he can’t help it. 

If anything, he grumbles to himself, watching you chatter with Toga, you’re subtly going out of your way to place yourself in front of him. You were never around this much before. Well, maybe you were. He didn’t pay you any mind back then, but now? Now he can’t get enough of you. 

He reacts when you laugh, or talk, his head turning, like a sunflower, toward the light you give off. Ugh. His only hopeful reprieve from this, from you, is the changing seasons. The days are getting shorter and that heatwave is finally, finally breaking. 

It’s his one comfort, his saving grace.

Yeah, he should have fucking never tossed that wish into the universe.

No, another heatwave passes over the island and it’s the worst one yet. The daily temperatures have been hitting the low 100s and the nights aren’t much better. To make matters worse, the A/C at the hideout has given up the ghost and won’t turn on at all now. 

Still, Dabi’s prepared. He’d bought a secondhand electric fan a few weeks ago, and he’s grateful for the tiny slice of paradise that it grants him. It’s not as nice as your apartment, or your bed, but it will do.

He’s laying across his mattress, sweat trickling down his back and shoulders, trying to ignore that ache in his burned skin. The fan is blowing across him and he’s about to crank it up a notch when it gives out an ominous sputter. 

Dabi sits up, his eyes flashing. No, no, no, no. There’s no fucking way.

The fan’s blades are slowing, that sweet, cool air dampening, drifting into the low-lying humidity that surrounds him. He yanks the plug from the wall, his staples stinging as he stands. He stomps over to the outlet and plugs the fan back in, turning on his haunches to see if the blades will start that familiar whirl. 

There’s fuck all happening. 

Cursing, he kicks the shitty thing over and grabs his jacket, storming down the stairs and into the night.

You’re sleeping when he slinks under your window sill, sliding the glass shut and kicking his heavy boots to the floor. It’s that sound that wakes you, and you lift yourself up, your sheets falling from your chest, revealing a bare shoulder and low cut shirt to him. Unabashed by your appearance, you wipe a palm over your eyes, rubbing the sleep away and croaking out a greeting. 

“When I said you could sleep over here, I didn’t mean you could barge in at all hours. And through my window? So, that’s why the hinge looks like that.” 

Dabi considers you for a moment, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. You tilt your head at him and suck your teeth. 

“A, oh, I don’t know, sorry, would be nice?” you scold, that alluring smile lifting your lips. He follows the line of your mouth, his thoughts hazing over, focusing on some other, darker, daydream.

“Hello?” you call, waving your hand beside your face. “Earth to Dabi. What do you want?”

That question slips him out of his stupor and he lifts his eyes back to yours. “The A/C is out. Bought a fan a few weeks ago, but the fucking thing broke and I can’t… it’s hard to regulate my body temperature in this fucking heat. You keep this place like an icebox, so I started crashing here. Wasn’t planning on coming back, but after tonight-”

“Ok, ok,” you laugh, already scooting over and flinging the covers back. “Seeing as you didn’t try any funny business last time, I guess I’ll let it slide. Just, not to be rude, but shut up and let me sleep. I’ve gotta long day tomorrow and as enthralling as this conversation is…”

“Whatever,” Dabi mutters, slinging his damp shirt over his head and pacing over to the side of your bed. You blink up at him and shake your head, that tiny grin lingering. He presses into your familiar sheets, eyes already slipping closed as the fragrance of you pulls at him.

It’s early when he wakes, shuddering out of a nightmare, red flames and crying voices fading into the back of his mind. 

Wincing, he raises a hand to his eyes and pulls at his face, relieved that it’s still cool air that meets him. As he rolls to his side, he feels something trace over his unscarred chest. The sensation makes him freeze, his eyes snapping open again, the cerulean searching, whisking over the dim figure beside him. 

You’re still sleeping, but you’ve shifted, your body curled, facing him, and one of your hands is reaching toward him. Shit, he thinks, heart pounding in his ears. You’re so close. 

He’s never been this close to you. 

Your mouth is parted, delicate lips plush and soft in the early morning gloom. He tries to shift away, but your brow creases when he does, so he stills his movements, gritting his teeth and trying to ignore that flush that is building across his nose.

This is stupid. It’s just you. It’s not like the two of you have even done anything. Fuck, you barely talk with one another. 

He burrows his head into his pillow and the shift of his body urges you closer to him, your hand opening and pressing to his skin. A sigh slips from your mouth as your fingers splay out, tapping against his warmth, and he nearly startles off the bed.

He looks down at your hand, aghast. He wants to move it off of him; can’t stand that you’re touching him, he tells himself, that you’re this close to him. But he can’t bring himself to move. Your hand is so delicate, so…

Unconscious, you turn from him, your fingers lifting on their own, curling back to you. Dabi almost moans as you slip from him, clamping down on the sudden, primal desire that races through him. He wants to grab you; to drag you back to him. 

The hell? What the fuck is wrong with him?

Sucking his teeth, he turns over, facing away from the confusing neediness that’s lapping at his subconscious. He fluffs his pillow aggressively, trying to drown out all the raw emotions that are racing through his mind.

Forget it. Sleep.

 When he wakes again, you’re gone. 

The sheets where you slept are cold under his fingertips and he sits up, his arms resting on his knees. This whole situation is so fucking weird.

He lets himself ease into consciousness before standing and stretching out the leftover kinks in his muscles; stooping to grab his discarded shirt, pulling the fabric over his head and shaking his dark head against the sunlight. Just as he’s slipping his coat on, he notices the note that’s sitting on one of your bedroom chairs. It’s got his name on it, so he snatches it up, flipping open the folded paper. 

“There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge, I won’t have time to eat it. Help yourself. There’s also a spare key on the coffee table. Take it and stop jimmying my window open.” 

Scoffing, he crumples the paper up, tossing it over his shoulder as he paces into your kitchen.

It’s a fucking thing now. 

He’s rarely at the hideout. Why bother? You don’t seem to care if he sleeps over. Hell, you make space for him. There’s gotta be something else to it; there has to be. What kinda idiot is so fucking accommodating? You act like you’re a fucking hostel or something. Well, a hostel where there’s only one bed. 

You even bought another fan. You told him you don’t like to keep the overhead one on in the cooler weather, so he can use this one for his side of the bed.

Yeah, he’s got a goddamn side of the bed. It’s fucking insane.

The other members of the League either haven’t noticed what’s going on between the two of you, or they don’t care. It’s not like either of you talk about your sleeping habits. Fuck, you still never interact with him at the hideout, content to maintain that level of professionalism.

He’s not sure why it bothers him. 

One night, the temperature drops into the low 40s and he’s stretched out on your blankets, enjoying the first real cold snap of the fall, when he sees you shivering. It’s not very noticeable, what with the way you’re turned away and bundled, but it makes him tilt his head toward you, watching. 

Another pass of his fan has you repeating the quake and, without thinking, he pulls you closer, one long arm wrapping around your shoulder and tugging. Startled, you fight his hold, but he calms your movements with a squeeze, grumbling about your stoic reluctance. 

What’s the big deal? It’s not like you haven’t brushed up against him before. Calm down. 

You quiet after that and slowly, tentatively, you lean against his bare chest, your cheek cool against his heated skin. He tucks his chin over your head and tries to keep his breathing even. He doesn’t want you to hear, fuck, feel his heartbeat; it’s slamming its way out of his throat and he gulps when your fingers pull him closer. 

“How are you so warm?” you ask, your breath floating across his pectorals. 

“It’s my stupid quirk,” Dabi mutters, dipping his head down to his pillow, shifting you with him. You nod against his lean muscles and your fingertips trace cool designs into his skin, lingering over his burnt patches and staples. He sighs, unable to resist the low shiver that creeps up his spine. 

This is nice; too fucking nice.

He can’t do without your touch now.

Remember that thing about love and hate being sisters? Well, that hate is simmering into something else for Dabi. It’s not love, he doesn’t know you well enough, but it’s certainly not hate anymore.

He likes touching you. You’re smooth against his jagged skin and he enjoys the contrast. He’s slow when he pulls you against him, careful to not snag you against his staples, but you seem to like his heat. You’ve even started wearing less to bed, slipping out of that baggy shirt and into a thin tank top; he’s pleased that he has more of you to caress. 

It’s getting harder to keep you out of his head. He can smell your perfume, even if he hasn’t seen you for days, and each time he does see you, even at the hideout, his fingers itch to press against you. 

You’d laughed at his sudden, intense, interest. The hell Dabi, are you touch starved or something? You’d teased. What’s up with you? I was worried about you burning down my apartment, not you turning into some kind of cuddle fiend.

He doesn’t care what you say. He knows it’s fucking stupid, fucking dumb, that he’s this desperate. It just feels good. And there’s not much about him that feels good these days, so he’ll take what he can get. Fuck you very much.

There’s a meeting. It’s one of the ones where Shigaraki demands that everyone make their way to the bar. 

Boss man has been tense lately, thrumming with some dark energy, so the room is quiet as Kurogiri elaborates on the smaller details of the mission. Your part is minimal, limited to reconnaissance with Toga. It’s boring shit, and Dabi is only half listening to any of it.  

Besides, there’s something else that’s snagging his attention. 

Dabi is sitting on the couch, his eyes lingering on you. You’re wearing one of his favorite outfits and the color looks good on you. It brings out your eyes. You’re questioning Spinner and Toga about the finer points of your team up. He can’t hear you from here, but that doesn’t matter, he’s still in the best spot to spy you leaning forward, perfect ass on full display. 

“She’s gotten better, more adept at working undercover,” Compress’ voice shakes Dabi from his thoughts and he turns to him, a bland frown on his face.

“Who?”

“Please, you know who I’m talking about. You can’t stop looking at her.” 

He chortles, his laugh a sharp bark. “You’re fucking joking. Her? Fuck, no. I’m gonna head out, not like the boss has anything for me anyway,” Dabi stands, slipping his hands into his trench coat and pacing to the heavy door, shouldering his way into the night. 

He leans against the brick wall, lighting up a cigarette and sighing a thin line of smoke into the chilled air. Fuck, they’re noticing what’s going on. Wait. What is going on? It’s not like the two of you are fucking. Yet, a small voice echoes in the back of his mind, and he smirks at that thought. 

Yeah, maybe it’s time to speed things up.

You step out a few minutes later, your eyes searching for him. He flicks his cigarette onto the pavement and wraps his fingers in your coat, tugging you to him. You don’t fight him; don’t make a sound as he pins you against the brick, his body hot against your front. 

The two of you watch the other, his cerulean eyes roving over your face. Then he’s lifting your chin, his lips sliding across yours. It’s a strange kiss. Usually, he’s too busy trying to get off to focus on his partner. He rarely kisses anyone, even if he’s hooking up. But this kiss? 

Like everything else about you, it’s fucking nice. 

You move with him, your body surging from the brick, breasts flattening against his chest, fingers cupping behind his ears; nipping and sucking at him, your teeth digging into his burned lower lip and pulling. You’re encouraging him to touch you next, rubbing yourself on him until his hands fall to your hips. He’s already half hard, and that warm juncture of your thighs isn’t helping matters.

To his shock, he’s having trouble keeping up. 

You’re already pulling from him when he dips his tongue into your mouth. He gasps at the emptiness, that chilling vacancy that your touch leaves him panting into. Before he can bemoan your absence, you’re kissing at his neck, lifting on your tiptoes to reach the staples on the side of his face. You lick at him, your wet tongue dragging over his burns. He trembles under your hands and you smile, your laugh bright. 

Snarling, Dabi yanks your head back and you meet his hazy gaze, biting your lip; pantomiming a wonton innocence. Immediately, he’s pushing you into the brick, his hands cupping and lingering until you’re whining for him. That’s fucking better, he thinks, his teeth worrying against your pulse. 

Just when he’s got you where he wants you, your hand snakes between the two of you, pressing against the bulge of his dick. Dabi can’t help his sharp intake of air, and his head falls to your shoulder as he ruts into your palm. You keep kissing at the side of his face, your lips roving over his ear as you tug at his covered dick. You’re saying something, but he can’t focus when you’re doing that.

“Dabi,” you try again, teeth ensnaring his destroyed earlobe, sucking at the burnt skin. “They’re about to come out.” 

He knocks your hand away from his straining, throbbing length and leans away from you. Fuck, you look good. 

Your lips are swollen, and your eyes are dazzling. He can’t pull himself away. You smile at his dazed expression and lift a hand to his cheek, your palm cool against his overheated skin.

The door shudders open and the two of you spring apart. A few minutes later Toga is grabbing at your arm and pulling you down the street, away from him.

He’s waiting outside your apartment, another cigarette smoldering to ash under his lips. But he can’t bring himself to go in. 

Not without you. 

Toga’s kept you busy. It’s been over an hour since that kiss in the alleyway. He’s cooled off since then, but that simmering heat that you elicited from him? That hasn’t dimmed. He’s still half hard against his dark pants and he can’t bring himself to care. Besides, Dabi has a very specific idea about how he’s going to have you lessen that pressure for him. 

He’s just about to light another cigarette when he sees you. 

You walk into your building, and he starts the long climb up the fire escape. His heart is pounding again. He hasn’t wanted something this badly in ages. He’s been so fucking focused on his cause, on making his plans a reality; he just hasn’t had the time. 

But now? Fuck, he wants there to be more hours in the day. He’s hoping the two of you can pick up where you left off. Yeah, he tells himself, scaling the last few steps, it’s just about the sex. 

That sounds better than saying what he really wants. 

You’re already slipping your oversized sleep shirt over your head when he lifts your window. You pause, watching him curl his way into your space. Once he pulls his legs inside he turns to you, his eyes dark, unfathomable, the blue so deep that you feel you’re drowning in it. 

He doesn’t shut the window. Instead, he yanks his clothes off, clattering them against your floor. You smile and a gentle laugh makes its way to him. 

“What did I say about coming in through the window?” you chuckle, already lifting your arms for him. 

He’s against you in a single breath, his warmth seeping its way into your chilled skin. His lips are rough, pressing and lifting, biting and nipping. He’s working you toward your bed and once your knees hit the edge of your mattress, he’s shoving you down. 

You flop against the cold blankets, your legs already spreading for his hips. He’s hot, scaldingly hot, against your hands. Your fingers dip into his hair and you pull him back, earning a low growl and his flashing glare, displeasure written all over his face. 

“Slow down,” you scold, your legs wrapping around his hips, grinding against the hardness you find. 

“The fuck? You goddamn tease. Fucking saying that, then rubbing your wet pussy all over my dick,” Dabi snarls, snatching your wrists and pinning your hands beside your head.

“How do you know it’s wet?” you ask, batting your eyes at his steeled jaw. 

“It fucking better be,” he groans, his teeth sinking into your neck and pressing, hard. 

You gasp at the stimulation and arch for him, testing his hold on your wrists. Grunting, he licks a wet line to your pulse, his hands tightening over yours. “Mmm, why don’t you find out?” you ask, leaning into his lips, loving the contrast of his destroyed and perfect skin. 

He shifts his grip on you, yanking your arms up, pinning your hands above your head. He lifts one of his own hands away once he’s satisfied he’s got a good hold on you. His warm fingers trace down your side, pausing when he gets to the lacy band of your panties. Teasingly, he pulls fabric away from your skin, and lets it snap against your hip. Dabi tips his nose into the curve of your neck and shoulder, taking a deep drag against you. 

You buck your hips, squirming under his weight. “You get lost? My pussy is a little further down.” 

He chuckles darkly, his breath making you shiver. You’re just about to wriggle from him when one long finger eases past your panties and presses into your sopping heat. “Oh,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back. It feels like he’s heated his fingertip, and the skin that’s stroking and thrusting into you is warm, too warm. 

Dabi leans away from your neck, bracing himself above you with his knees, pulling himself into a hunched position. He’s smirking at your awed expression and his teeth glow in the darkness. 

“Like I said doll, you’re already so fucking wet for me. You want more?”

You nod and buck your hips, digging that finger deeper. He groans at your eagerness and you can feel him warming the next digit up, the tip burning against the soft flesh of your inner thighs. 

Once it’s in, he starts to v the two, dragging them along your rippling walls, spreading you open, easing you into his hand. Your slick is sliding down your legs and seeping into the sheets. Still, Dabi keeps on, maintaining that steady stretch. It starts to sting and you shift away, but he releases your wrists, free hand moves to your hip, stilling you. 

You glance up at him, curious. His eyes are hooded, the blue a velvety sapphire. He looks like he’s holding himself back from something. Almost like… like he’s handling you with more care than he’s ever given anything. It’s a strange thought, but the idea of it makes you reach for him, your fingers running down his discolored skin, lingering over the staples and piercings. 

“I’ve gotta stretch you out,” he informs you, his eyes closing behind his trembling eyelids, savoring your gentle caress. 

“Hmm, you that big?” you joke, fully expecting him to react, to silence you with a kiss or another well-timed thrust of his fingers. But he surprises you. He opens his eyes and fixes you with a rough stare, his digits continuing that aching pull. You’re throbbing around him, your arousal easing his passage, his extensions. 

“I don’t want to… hurt-” he stops, his eyes narrowing. With an inaudible sigh, he slides down your body, only halting once he’s face to face with your sleek cunt. His breath heaves against you and you wrap a leg over his back, holding him close. 

Dabi laves his tongue over you, latching onto your pulpy clit and giving it a soft suck. Your hands sink into his hair, curling into the spiky tendrils, urging him to give you more.  

He rewards your needy moans with another lick and he flicks his eyes up to yours, watching you over your shaking curves. 

“I’m going to add another finger,” he tells you, preparing you for another deep stretch. When he enters you almost pull from him, your hips bowing away at the pricking of pain. Sensing your distress, he keeps his lips around your pulsing clit, distracting you with kisses and low blows of air. 

Finally, you can feel yourself loosening. Your feet brace against your bed and you use the leverage to maneuver him deeper. You feel, you feel so…

Dabi, realizing that your cunt is quivering around his intruding digits, shifts closer, his piercings rubbing against your thighs. He’s sloppy now, less controlled. His tongue is circling your clit with furious laps and he lets a canine trace the bud. His fingers are still spreading and he’s found that spongy spot now. He taps against it, teasing you, making you clench and gasp around him. 

Just when you think you can’t take it anymore, when it seems like all the sensations are too, too, much; it snaps. The coiling in your core pulls free and you’re moaning, so loudly you’re worried your neighbors will hear. His name is falling from your lips at a rapid rate and you can feel his smirk as he lifts his fingers from your cunt. 

Dabi leans away and you shake at the loss of him. He was so warm, so hot against your damp skin and you miss it. He watches you, tucking his fingers into his mouth, lapping the final bits of your release from him. 

“Take off your clothes,” he demands when he’s finished, his hands already dropping to his tented boxers, slipping the elastic down his trim waist. 

You shift to obey, your hands yanking your shirt, bra and soaked panties off of you. You splay under him, indolently admiring the sight that is revealed to you. Oh, you think, unable to contain your small gasp, he is big. 

His cock is long, thick, and curved, and it’s dripping with pre-cum. There’s a crossed set of piercings at the tip of his length and you watch, mesmerized, as a shimmering strand of his arousal catches on the shiny silver, leeching down the smooth length of him. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, and that thought makes you shiver with anticipation, and a small sliver of worry.  

Dabi grins wildly at your flushed face. “Like what you see?” 

You nod, and he laughs, fingers snatching your legs, tugging you toward him. You spread for him, so eager and fucking turned on you can’t think straight. His hand lowers to his cock, and he strokes himself as he rechecks your silken cunt, gathering some of the gossamer strands of your arousal on his fingers as he ensures that you’re ready to take him. 

“I’m not going to go slow,” he warns you, his eyes lifting from your folds. 

Gulping and biting your lip, you nod, a shaking exhale escaping your lungs. He shifts himself nearer and begins to press. He’s right, you think, wincing at the sting of his intrusion. He’d stretched you out, licked you until you were leaking all over the bed, but it hurts. 

It takes him a moment to bottom out. Once he does, he groans and gasps above you. “Fuck (Y/N), you’re so damn tight.” 

You flop your head against your pillow and let out a long sigh. He’s holding still as you adjust, and, despite his warning, he’s being careful with you. It makes your chest squeeze. After a few more pained breaths, you can feel a low tingling radiating from your core. It’s like an itch. Experimentally, you cant your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist, cautious of the stapled skin across his lower back. 

Dabi mutters a soft curse and pulls back, his length sliding out of your drenched pussy. When he glides back in, you feel that same tingling sensation. Distantly, you realize it must be those piercings of his, but you’re too overwhelmed by the sensation to process it fully. 

“Hold on,” he groans, his hands bracing beside your head. You lace your arms around his bowed neck, and he starts to pounds into you. It’s a calculated motion, but- ah- he’s taking the extra second between his powerful pulls and thrusts to scrape his pelvis against your pulsating clit, stimulating you, ensuring that dim blaze pleasure within you keeps building. Whimpering, you arch your back, your ankles locking around him, encouraging him to keep going. You feel so good, so full, filled to the brim and practically begging him for more. 

Sloppily, his mismatched lips find yours and he nibbles and kisses at you. The sheer heat of him is making you both slick with sweat. You don’t mind the salty, dampened feeling, if anything, it eases his motions. 

You’re so wet now that he’s gliding easily into you; that piercing of his heating up, and the rapid fire thrusts he’s giving you create a smoldering inside you; like he’s catching you on fire from the inside out. 

His hips stutter and he lifts one hand from the bed, his thumb easily finding your clit. He presses a tight circle across you and you see spots. 

“Come on,” he groans, his voice hoarse, strained, “cum for me (Y/N). Fucking cum on my dick.” 

That desperation in his tone is all that it takes. 

Seconds later, you’re arching and shaking so much that he has to hold you still. He eases into you a final time, his frantic thrusts slowing, spacing out as he enjoys your rippling channel, and the fiery feeling of his own release almost hurtles you over the edge again. You curl against him, panting into his burnt ear, licking at the damaged skin.

Dabi leans heavily against you, one large hand pressing into your lower back, lifting you to him. Once he comes back to himself, he kisses at your shoulder, his warm breath making you shiver. He eases himself out of you and your legs clamp together, holding his cum inside you. It still feels so, so hot, and you’re not ready to let it drip out of you, not yet. 

He untangles himself from you and adjusts some of his staples, wincing against the sting of his marred and clean flesh. Realizing what he’s doing, you slip from the bed and pad into your bathroom. You clean yourself off and grab a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, dampening a clean cloth with the solution. 

“Here. It’s got some peroxide on it,” you tell him as you reenter the bedroom, tossing the rag his way. He catches it easily, dabbing it over himself, careful to not snag it on any of his loose skin. While he’s busy doing that, you snatch up his discarded white shirt and sling it over your head. He looks at you and scoffs. 

“What’s wrong with yours?” he asks, tossing the cloth onto the floor.

“Yours looked better,” you inform him, returning to his side and leaning close. He rolls his eyes at you and you shift into his open lap, straddling his hips. Grinning, you kiss at his neck again, sneaking a few groans from him. Sighing as you give him a particularly hard nip, he bats you off of him, tumbling you down to the sheets. 

“Give me a fucking minute,” he complains, shaking his head as you wrap around him, pulling him into your arms. Once he’s settled onto the bed you turn, pressing your back to his chest, relaxing into the familiar hold. He snorts, amused by your sudden change of mind. 

Dabi lowers his forehead to the back of your head, a small smile rising along his lips. Your breathing evens out and he listens to the sound, trying to memorize each little detail of you.

Yeah, this is it, he tells himself as he drifts off. The rest is just extra. Oh, it’s nice, to be sure, but this, this right here is what he really wants.

Notes: Soft, soft Dabi. I like him like this ꒰ ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱ ˖°  

Tags: @evesmores, @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Hello lovelyyy! Could i request a Billy imagine? He makes fun of the reader after hooking up with her at a party and she just playa along for the sake of his reputation but it hurts her a lot. He finds her and apologizes and its all really angsty with a happy ending??✨

Facades - B. Hargrove

I love this req so so so so so so much and I am so sorry I took so long to complete it! If you hate it then I am so so sorry and I hope you let me know so i can send you pictures of baby otters to apologise!

I really hope you like it!!

TW: THIS STORY CONTAINS MENTIONS OF BULLYING, SEXUAL REFERENCES, SWEARING, BRIEF ALLUSIONS TO DOMESTIC VIOLENCE / PARENTAL ABUSE, BILLY BEING A BIT OF A MYSOGINISTIC PRAT, Y/N STANDING UP FOR THE LITTLE PEEPS AND BEING A QUEEN AND MENTIONS OF NON-CONSENSUAL STARING AT INTIMATE BODY PARTS.

IF THIS CONTENT CAN POTENTIALLY TRIGGER YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ. YOUR OWN MENBTAL AND PHSYICAL HEALTH IS IMPORTANT, SO PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. MY INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN.

Original Story by defensive_sarcasm17.

Please do not copy, reproduce or repost without credit or in a manner that removes my username, and/or ownership from the work. Stealing is not cool, my loves.

Billy Hargrove was an asshole.

Not just your regular asshole, but the kind that knew he was an asshole and allowed his severe longing for attention to control his every action. Whether positive or negative attention, he craved it; he reveled in it.

He knew it was wrong, but simply knowing he was on somebody’s mind in any way filled him with a sense of pride. It disgusted him but the thrill was far too addictive.

And there was sweet Y/N. Anybody could tell that she didn’t fit in. She walked - no, she strut - to the beat of her own drum. The minute he arrived she caught his attention. He had never before witnessed how somebody could be so unique and beautiful, yet remain on the outside. She was a fascinating creature and he hadn’t before felt such an intense desire to get to know somebody.

She was so different to so many people, both in personality and appearance, yet she took care to avoid bringing others down. Her first interaction with him was her reprimanding him for speaking ill of another girl in their grade with his friends. She had overheard the conversation that occurred near to her locker and made sure to discuss it with him away from his friends.

The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass him and herself, but she also needed to tell him that his behaviour was unacceptable. He made more of an effort to watch his tongue after that, but old habits die hard and he quickly resorted back to being an ill-mannered asshole.

Just... never to her.

Nevertheless, he was still drawn to her. Their relationship evolved, a few sneaky kisses, hanging out outside of the arcade, or the cinema, or even the one time that Billy was eating at the diner and Y/N took a seat across from him just to babble about some new thing she was doing. If she was anybody else, Billy would have told her to take a hike, but instead, he clung to every word she told.

What Y/N didn’t know, though, was that she had become a butt of some jokes amongst Billy’s friends. Her kind, bubbly personality, her eyes that were often wide in energetic glee, the way she held a cheesy smile on her lips whenever she passed Billy in the hall.

To her it was normal. Never in her the lengths of her imagination would she conclude that the way she behaved would spur other people - people that she has grown alongside - to ridicule and tease her behind her back.

So she continued on in blissful nativity, even going as far as spending a night with the brutish boy - cuddled together, fumbling blindly amongst the rumpled sheets of her double bed. What started as a meaningless conversation at one of the many parties ended in one of the best nights that either had experienced.

She was entirely enamored by him, forming an intense and strong connection with the way he would present himself to her. She quite enjoyed the Jekyll within him.

The euphoria that he felt in her presence wouldn’t fade away like it normally did, even as he took his leave from her.

But when Billy was seen by Y/N’s neighbour, Angela, leaving her house early in the morn, the news circulated with the intensity of a swarm of angry locusts amongst the school.

And when Billy turned up to school late the next day, after a long and enjoyable farewell with Y/N and a quick stop at his own abode to change and freshen up, he was hounded the minute he approached his friends in the cafeteria.

“Please for the love of all that is cool in this world, tell me you didn’t hook up with freaky Y/N,” Tommy blurted in front of almost the entire cafeteria. The frown on Billy’s face did nothing to deter the boy, and from the corner of his eye he could see Y/N still as a statue as she felt most eyes turn towards her. Her tray was clasped between her fingers and she struggled to shift her features away from shock. “I mean, look at her,” he raised a hand as if he intended to whisper, yet the silence of the room ensured everybody heard, “You’d get more satisfaction out of a bean bag chair. She’s a dork.”

In that moment, he had two options: stick up for Y/N and confess to the growing admiration he harbored for her in front of everybody, and remove the cloud of admiration he received from many women and men alike; or do what billy does best-

“Please, I won’t put my dick just anywhere, willingly,” he scoffed, avoiding the burning gaze from the girl. His stormy blue eyes hid the flurry of his neurons, all of them working overtime to one up with an excuse, an answer, anything to avoid judgement from his peers. “She ended up with my jacket at the end of the night and there was no way I was letting her keep it.”

Tommy had an evil smirk on his face, turning his gaze towards Y/N and eyeing her in a grotesque way. His eyes linger on her chest for longer than she deemed comfortable before he snapped back to Billy. “Figured as much, but, we’ve all seen the way the freak looks at you. Even now, she can’t keep her eyes off of you.”

More sniggers erupted throughout the room. Y/N placed her tray down carefully, planning to leave the room as fast as she could, but she stopped when she saw Tommy crook a finger at her. He beckoned her closer, and she wanted nothing more than to shrink down to the size of a mouse.

“Is she dumb?” Tommy grunted as he nudged Billy’s shoulder with his own. “Come here, freaky!” Some chatter resumed in the room, but all eyes were still on her. She slowly stepped towards their table, crossing the few meters difference as slow as she could.

A chuckle left Billy, but he had forced it from his chest. His mind was going through many scenarios in which he could hurt Tommy, his favourite settling on stabbing him in the hand with one of the cafeteria forks followed by a severe pummeling to the face, but the eyes on him sent his adrenaline spiking. He felt horrible about speaking so badly of Y/N, but everybody had their attention focused on him. He was making people laugh, gasp, grumble even. He saw the girls at the table next to them get closer, winking at him and whispering along themselves about Y/N.

It was intoxicating.

“Tell us, freaky,” Tommy drawled, a sinister smirk forming in his thin and cracked lips. “You’re just obsessed with my man, Billy, here. Aren’t you?” Billy didn’t meet her eyes, and she knew - she just knew - that he didn’t enjoy what was happening, but she figured he would have the decency to stop it from continuing.

She had seen many sides of Billy, including the menacing, careless, boarding-on-sociopathic side, but she had managed to convince herself that she was immune to the abuse that tumbled from his lips. Y/N was already scolding herself inside her mind for thinking such discrepancies.

“Look at her, Billy. She can’t even speak!” Billy felt Tommy shove his shoulder with the palm of his hand, dropping the appendage quickly when he noticed the glare Billy shot him. His face paled slightly before the arrogance returned and the smirk resurfaced when his gaze shifted back to Y/N.

She hadn’t moved, her eyes locked on Billy. In those situations, Y/N knew her tear ducts were far to close to her eyelids, often spilling over at the any confrontation. She shied away from it, knowing that it often resulted in heartache and misfortune - but this time she felt anger. She just wasn’t quite sure if the anger was directed at herself or Billy.

Maybe both.

To add fuel to the flame, Billy turned his steely cerulean eyes towards her, raking them along the length of her body before he decided to open his mouth once again.

“Do i make you speechless?” his voice was sultry, warm, juxtaposing with the chill that ran down her spine at the audition.

It took her back to the previous night when he whispered sweet nothings against her skin. But she knew this was not the same Billy. This was the Billy that he would show to everyone. Everyone but her.

This was his Hyde, and she despised it. This was far from her Billy, but she knew how much his reputation meant to him.

He held her gaze strongly, but she could see something else in his expression. He was hoping that she would stay quiet, retreat from any chance of spilling his secret to the entire cafeteria, but part of his mind was telling him that he deserved her to speak the truth.

“I can’t help it, Billy,” she mumbled, hoping that a confession would make everything end. Her face was stoic, jaw set in a tight clench, only relenting to let the words slip out. To the rest of the cafeteria, it would portray as nerves and embarrassment, but to Billy - he knew that something had definitely changed in the usual mild-mannered, kind-hearted woman. Shame was running through her head at an alarming rate, mixed with embarrassment and cut with a growing anger. “I’ve had a crush on you for so long. It’s hard to deny how i feel about you.”

The words hit him like a speeding truck. Despite their activities, she had never once given him an indication for the depth of her feelings, nor had he for her. He had came to the conclusion that she simply knew of his emotions without the audition of them - he treated her so differently, he thought.

Nevertheless, he wanted to believe that her words were the truth, but the fire blazing in her beautiful eyes set his skin alight and had his heart pounding against his ribcage with guilt. She was Y/N. She was kind, she knew him. She knew how much he craved the satisfaction of being on somebody’s mind as if he could sense that he held somebody’s attention.

He knew she did it to help him, and he was somewhat grateful underneath the growing guilt.

“Wow,” Tommy breathed. His face held a look of astonishment, but once again he returned to his stock standard expression. “What an absolute spaz!”

Billy found himself nodding along to avoid the heat-filled stare, swallowing the lump of bile rising in his throat, “Why is it that all the dorks think they have a chance with me? I must have a wannabe-magnet that makes them all hot for me,” his cackle was filled with faux-malice, but the students were none the wiser. His thoughts were roaming around his head, moving faster than he was sure his brainwaves could manage.

He barely noticed when a feminine voice hit his ears and said something about Y/N needing to cool off before pouring a drink over her head. The red liquid was already beginning to stain her shirt and her hair was pushed to the front of her face.

“There you go,” Carol - the girl that had Tommy wrapped so tightly around her little finger that she has a circulation issue - had been the one to spill the liquid over her head. The smile on Carol’s face was dripping with sugar, but Billy knew that it was actually salt.“The red makes you look less like an ugly cow.”

A gasp left her lips, her eyes closing quickly. Y/N knew that the tip of the iceberg was approaching. Everybody has the point in their anger when they hit a point of hypersensitivity. Their body struggling to find a way to release the pent up friction in anyway, and it chooses to take the route of tears.

When she opened her eyes they had already began to blur with tears, yet she could still make out Billy’s figure, but she didn’t stay long enough to hear their taunts any longer. Her feet carried her to her car at a steady pace, where she finally allowed the emotion to escape in any way it pleased.

<><><><><>

He had expected to see her in their next class. Her presence was the only think that kept him from flipping out during their history class. Mr Daniels, the balding, narcissistic, middle-aged douche bag, had it out for him. Billy had often joked that it was because of the hair - pure jealousy, he said. The mere sight of Y/N’s profile managed to keep him occupied, his mind running wild with thoughts of the woman.

But when he had noticed she wasn’t there, all resolve had fled his body as his body fled the school. He had been trying to reach her since he had left, the pay phone on the corner of the block had his attention for nearly an hour, all of his change spent dialing her number over and over again with the same result.

The guilt was eating away at him, shame creeping up his spine.

He was an asshole. Plain and simple.

He had spent nearly his entire wallet on the pay phone, growing more frustrated by the minute. If she were home, she would answer. She always did. She was too kind to ignore a call. Hell, she even stayed on the line with telemarketers until they stopped talking for long enough for her to apologise and bid them goodbye.

The mere thought had him slumping his forehead against the receiver of the phone. His patience had worn thin and he cursed under his breath as he reefed his keys from his pocket and set off towards his blue camaro.

He needed to see her. The image of tears running down her cheek was burned into his mind, occupying all of his thoughts as his subconscious mapped out the route to her house. He had only been there once, maybe twice after dropping her home one afternoon, but he had the way etched into his hippocampus alongside many things about Y/N.

He had barely pulled in to the curb before he shut down the engine and stomped to her door.

His knuckles were rapping on the door before he knew it.

He knocked again, and once more. But no answer. Her car was parked in the drive way, he knew she was home. He picked up on the faint sound of music playing, some indie band that she was fond of. Not Billy’s taste.

“Y/N?” He called, fighting the lump that had swollen in his throat. “Y/N, please, I need to talk to you!”

The door opened slightly, just enough for Y/N to stare at him with innocent eyes full of shame before the chain stopped it from advancing further.

“I think you’ve said enough, Billy,” her voice sounded broken. Shattered even.

Her hair was still saturated, the T-Shirt she wore was stained, and he faintly recognized it as one of her favourite articles. A from was deeply carved into her features and he had to restrain his mind from thinking about how she adorable she looks with a crease between her brows and a dimple forming on her chin with growing anger.

“Darling, please let me in. I need to talk to you about something,” he flashed a charming smile. His pink lips contrasted perfectly against his sun-kissed skin. He was a delectable sight and he knew so; he made sure to dress to impress on the daily. He craved the looks of lust and jealousy. Like neon straight into his awaiting veins, it was his drug. Even the way Y/N glared up at him made his ego hum, but his heart ached with the disappointment she showed. “What happened in the cafeteria... it’ll never happen again. I just, I couldn’t-“

The door abruptly slammed in his face silencing his words in an instant. He froze, the sound shaking his spine and clearing his train of thought, only for the sound of a chain clicking and the door reopening capture his attention back.

There she stood. Hair drenched beyond all hope, clothes stained a bright red, throwing off the aesthetic of her outfit for the day. Her makeup was smudged more than he originally thought, as if she had been furiously scrubbing at her eyes with her hands. His heart ached, but he couldn’t deny the excitement in his nerves when she gave him her full attention.

Her hand reached out to grab his shirt, pulling him inside faster than he thought possible.

“Couldn’t what?” She snapped at him, venom coating her words in a way that made him recoil. “Couldn’t resist making fun of me? Couldn’t resist having every single pair of eyes on you? Couldn’t resist taking the piss out of me, just like you have done for months?”

She wasn’t meant to know about that, he thought. She was meant to be none the wiser. His face paled, eliciting a dry laugh from her chest. She felt the pressure of the forced omission in her stomach, the muscles aching from the furious sobs that racked her frame moments before.

“All of this time, I was trying to be your friend, Billy! And you!” She waved her hand at him, pointing at him in a manner dripping with unbridled anger. “You were playing me for the fool! I’ve been the butt of all jokes between you and your asshole friends since the minute I opened my big mouth to talk to you, haven’t I?”

He knew he was in the wrong. He knew that he should have punched Tommy in the face for even bringing anything up in front of her. His friend had noticed that he had abruptly halted the jokes surrounding the girl in question, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit the real reason why. He was falling head over heels, but he just didn’t know it yet.

Now he felt like his heart was ripping in two at the sight of her blotchy cheeks and red rimmed eyes, and he was the reason.

“It started as a joke, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you,” His voice was full of pain. Self-loathing. “Yeah, Tommy and I used to make fun of you for a while, but...” his words faded away.

The chuckle that left her lips this time was a hearty one, more like she was laughing at an actual joke than their humourless situation.

He didn’t realise how intently he was staring at her sock covered feet until he brought his eyes up to her face. She was genuinely laughing, but the tears that he didn’t realise were falling down her cheeks made his arms twitch from the need to hug her.

“My god,” she huffed, bringing her palms to her eyes and pressing hard, almost as if trying to hold her tears back. Her voice deceived her, and she sobbed for - what felt like - the millionth time that day. “I’m such an idiot.”

His hands connected with her shoulders and he brought her in against his chest. The hug was all he could do to comfort her, for he knew so little about his own emotions to even begin to understand another’s pain.

“Every time we spoke, every time we hung out together...” she pulled herself back from his chest. She couldn’t stand the contact that she craved so much, for she knew that it was unrequited. “Every time I kissed you.. last night. It was all bullshit!”

“Princess,” his own voice began to shake, feeling overwhelmed and anxious, “Every moment I have ever spent with you has been because I want to.”

She worked her hands into her now half-damp hair, pulling it back from her face in a tight grip, “Why? You and your friends needed some new material?” She released a heavy breath, her lips trembling. “Nancy told me about all of the jokes last week, yet I still went home with you last night. I still played along while the entire cafeteria stared me down because I know how much your reputation means to you. I know that I am at the very bottom of your priority list, Billy. Everything you do is for a purpose, and your purpose with me was just to make me feel worse than literally everybody in that school already does.”

He reached for her hand slowly, as if he were afraid she would pull away from him forever. He was never sure of his emotions, but this time, he knew that he would watch the world burn just to make her happy. He hated himself. He hated Tommy, and the girls that embarrassed her further. He hated Neil, and he hated his own narcissism. He hated the world for making such a beautiful soul so miserable, but he especially hated how he knew right from wrong and still chose the latter.

His fingers laced with hers, but her hand remained slack in his grip. It was better than nothing, he thought.

He cleared his throat, the organ feeling as stiff as a piece of cardboard, his mouth dry. The next words would be difficult, but they were honest. She deserved honesty.

“When I first met you, I didn’t know who you were, and I didn’t really want to. You were kind and thoughtful and you pulled me aside to chew me out for talking shit about some girl, but you did it where you knew my friends wouldn’t hear, just so you could spare my reputation. For the first little while, yeah, we made jokes. I made fun of the weird way you dress and the horrible music you listen to, and how you are the nicest person I have ever met, but the it stopped. The things you did stopped being funny to me, and the way I felt when I was around you changed completely.”

“Billy, what are you talking about?” Her tear-filled eyes wrinkles, her brows furrowing deeply.

“Tommy and the rest of the assholes, they noticed that I didn’t want to talk shit about you, or that I didn’t like when they would talk about you in the way - in the way we talk about other girls. Its hypocritical, but they dropped it. Until today. All because Angela couldn’t keep her big mouth shut.” He caught the look that she sent him, frowning slightly. “Sorry. Because Angela told them that I left here this morning, and they wouldn’t shut their stupid mouths the minute they saw me. I told them that I had nothing to say about you, but they wanted answers and I said shit that I never wanted to say.”

She watched him intently. Tommy had made a lot of comments about her over the years she had known him. The other guys had too, but she did notice that they started backing off lately. She hadn’t paid much attention to the fact, secretly hoping that they had begun to mature, but to think that Billy made them stop - well she didn’t know what to think.

“Why did you make them stop?” her mind was running faster than her mouth, but she still couldn’t put it together. If Billy was anybody else, she would maybe think that he reciprocated the feelings she expressed for him in the cafeteria but he isn’t - he is Billy Hargrove, and he doesn’t have feelings for anybody.

He laughed for a second. A soft, disbelief fueled cough. His eyes seemed to shine bright in the dull lighting of her house. Neither of them had realised the time that has passed, it was now nearing the afternoon. He looked down at her, his stomach full to the brim with an odd sensation.

“You really don’t know?” he seemed to have stepped closer to her, only slightly. His shoulders were slightly shrunken in. She shook her head softly, the crease returning to between her eyebrows as she thought. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Never in his teenage life, had Billy feared rejection from a woman. His mother had given him all of the rejection he needed for a lifetime, but now, as he stared into Y/N’s eyes, his lungs seemed to constrict.

It was as if her world froze for a moment. Not only did Billy Hargrove, possibly her best and only friend, confess that he has feelings for her, but he said that he loved her. To say she was at a loss for words would be an understatement, but she stood in front of him gaping like a fish, mouth opening and closing every time she wanted to say something.

“I don’t mind if you don’t feel the same,” He spoke, slightly lower than when he confessed to her. He turned away from her slightly, releasing her hand and using it to rub the back of his neck. His skin felt like it was aflame and he started to sweat. “I just wanted to let you know, especially after what happened today. I-I’m sorry for the shit I said, and I am gonna kick Tommy’s ass for this. And I’m sorry that you had to say that stuff today. I know that you just said it to help me, and I appreciate it but you didn’t have to -”

His words fell short when he felt arms wrap around his waist. It was a soft, slow gesture, new, but not entirely uncomfortable. If he had to put money on it, he would say that she could feel exactly how fast his heart is beating.

“Those things I said today, about my feelings for you...” she began, head pressed against his chest.

“Yeah, princess?”

“They were all true.” He pulled her back slightly to look at her. It was his turn to look confused. “Last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, Billy. Being around you just makes my heart swell and everything better.”

His heart started to beat impossibly faster, but there was still hesitance in her voice. “I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming.”

“But I can’t deal with this split-personality bullshit, Billy.” He had never heard her curse before. It was music to his ears, exciting, entrancing, but he also knew that she meant business. She was incredibly serious. “The person you are when you are around me, that is the guy I am obsessed with. Who you are when everybody else is around... I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of that now, and I hated it.”

“I know, darling. I’m so sorry for that, I promise, I will be better. Even if you won’t have me, I will be better. For you.” His eyes held an honest strength. It was as if he were selling his soul to her, right there in her entry way, where they had stood since she wrenched the door open in a fury. “But, if you will have me, how about I take you out tomorrow night? If you don’t want to, then I understand.”

“I would love that,” she smiled up at him, the expression growing wider as a matching one took over his face.

He couldn’t help but lean forward slowly, giving her an opportunity to pull away. When their lips connected, he melted into the touch, moving with such intensity it was as if he were repeating his apology and his promise into the kiss.

She had never felt more wanted before, and he had never felt more safe.

When their lips parted she rested her forehead on his for a moment, basking in the silence and the ambiance that surrounded them.

But of course, Billy had to ruin it.

“So, you are obsessed with me, huh?” She could feel the smirk against her cheek as he nuzzled his nose into her temple.

She turned away from him so fast that the wet ends of her hair slapped his face.

“Where are you going, princess?” He followed after her, long strides catching up with her faster than she wanted.

“I’m going to have a shower. If you want to join me, you can leave that bad attitude at the door along with your shoes,” She sent him a sly wink, a smirk on the lips that Billy wanted to taste once again.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and his shoes went flying into the hallway.

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[fanfic-scribbles]

Smile

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Bucky gives you some reasons to smile.

Quick facts: Romance – Bucky Barnes/Reader – Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff, puns, cheesy jokes, so cheesy

Words: 3344

A/N: I’m going to admit it upfront, about 40 percent of the time spent on this fic was spent on writing it. The other 60 percent was spent on finding the jokes. Also, this story is semi-inspired by the fact that my face is not nearly as expressive as it feels (I basically look like the polite cat meme when I really try and I can’t do it for long before my face hurts too much) so this goes out to other people who get accused of resting bitch/asshole face. And get written up for it. Anyway, please enjoy this goofy little Bucky/Reader get together.

  ~

‘How do you make a tissue dance?’

‘Put a little boogie in it.’

Bucky snorts and coughs when he accidentally breathes coffee instead of air. ‘That’s disgusting,’ he texts back but Sam just replies with an obnoxious smiling face. Bucky shakes his head and goes back to his coffee. It’s actually not so terrible today.

He doesn’t hang out in a dive, but this coffee shop is a type of quiet he almost never sees in the city. It’s too far from the tourism path for convenience and just outside the neighborhood purview where there are many other local (better) favorites. It’s clean enough and decently sized, but it’s decorated like it was supposed to be trendy ten years ago and the place is barely staffed, to match its perpetually nigh-empty interior. There was a short-lived attempt at hiring another person, but after a ridiculous amount of turnover the owners, or whoever, apparently cut their losses and the only constants that remain are Bucky, the lone customer, you, the person actually working the counter, and your manager.

You’re nice. You always speak kindly to Bucky and, when you think you can sneak it, upsize his cup without comment or charge. Also, one time when his glove broke and slipped off, you hadn’t even commented on the arm; you’d even helped him stop panicking enough to see it hadn’t gone far and helped secure it temporarily with a rubber band.

Your manager, meanwhile, is a dick who glares at Bucky and once made a snide comment about him leaning too close to the register, and only talks to you in demanding barks. Like now– but the five minute “hushed” conversation is winding down and soon it will be safe for Bucky to go get his refill.

“I’m writing you up,” the manager says.

You jerk back in shock. “For not smiling enough?”

“It’s what we got marked down for, it’s what’s going on your record,” he says, turns on his heel, and retreats into the back to do jack shit. Bucky glares at his back as he goes. His harsh expression turns to a milder frown when he looks at you, hunched over and staring at the counter with a dead expression on your face.

He looks at his phone, looks at his empty coffee cup, and makes a quick decision.

“Can I get a refill?” he asks when he’s in front of you, startling you out of your stagnant misery. You look up at Bucky and after a second force an unnatural smile on your face. He winces on your behalf.

“Of course,” you say softly, and turn to refill the cup.

When you hand it back to him Bucky shuffles, hesitates, but finally asks, “Why are colds bad criminals?”

You blink. “Uh…why?”

“Because they’re easy to catch.”

You blink again, and then let out a startled laugh. Bucky smiles slightly at the sound, and smiles more at the more natural, smaller turn of your lips as you say, “That’s…that’s a good one.”

“It’s pretty terrible.”

“All the best ones are,” you say, and the door chimes making Bucky break away. But as he watches you talk to the delivery man like normal he nods to himself. He leaves with his coffee to start the day and fires a quick text to Sam: ‘Where do you get your dumb jokes?’

~

The next day when the door chimes and you see your one regular customer, you let yourself smile a lot more naturally than you have been. Your face is starting to hurt and your boss is probably napping in the back, so you take the chance to relax.

“Hi,” you say. “The usual?”

“Please,” he says, polite as ever as he hands you exact change and you go to fix his cup. When you bring it back he asks, “What did the fish say when he swam into a wall?”

“What?”

“Dam.”

You giggle despite yourself. Bucky’s smile is small and guarded, but you haven’t had a moment yet where you haven’t been grateful to see it. Maybe this ‘smiling’ business is all it’s cracked up to be. If only it didn’t hurt your cheeks so much.

But as he tips his cup to you and goes to his favorite corner, you find you don’t mind the ache as much.

~

Every time he comes in now, he brings a new joke.

“What do you call a fake noodle?”

“An im-pasta.”

“What does a clock do when it’s hungry?”

“It goes back four seconds.”

“Why did the bike fall over?”

“It was two tired.”

The delivery is fairly flat but there’s always at least the hint of a smile and, you don’t know, it might be his absolute seriousness that sells it, because every one of them raises your spirits. You don’t know why he’s suddenly telling you jokes. For anyone else you might think they’re flirting, but you don’t get that impression here. He’s handsome, always looks put-together in quality clothes even if they seem picked for comfort over anything else, and even before this he has always been unfailingly polite. If he wants someone, he has to have someone just as lovely. Right?

You can’t help but think about it even after he comes back. And the wonderfully terrible jokes, thankfully, don’t stop.

“Why did the mushroom go to the party?”

You keep pouring the coffee while you ponder an answer. “I don’t know,” you decide and lift your head as you hand Bucky his drink.

The way he smiles is very fetching– not quite a smirk, it’s a little too unsure for that, but it tilts up to the side and gives him a boyish charm that would make anyone weak in the knees. “Because he was a fungi.”

It makes a smile big enough for you to feel, but considering how self-conscious you are now you quickly tell him, “I liked that.”

“I know,” he says. “You smiled.”

“You can tell?” Maybe you aren’t as bad off as you thought. Or maybe he’s just being nice. But he seems honest, and he nods decisively.

“I get not being the most…expressive.” He shrugs. “But anyone can still see it, if they look.”

The implication that he cares enough to look stuns you both to silence. He ducks his head shyly and lifts his coffee cup in thanks before retreating to his corner. When you finally have working vocal cords again you say, “Have a nice day.” It might be the first time you’ve ever really meant it.

~

“What’s the opposite of coffee?”

Bucky’s eyes widen and narrow in quick succession as he goes from surprise to contemplation. He weighs your question with all the dramatic seriousness you could hope for before he says, “I don’t know. What is the opposite of coffee?”

You grin when you say, “Sneezy.”

His smile is bright and he nods his head. “Not bad, not bad.” He leans on the counter, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. It’s…shockingly warming. You have to remind yourself not to get too close. He showed up out of the blue and he can be gone just as quickly. Just because he’s nice doesn’t mean he has any attachment here. In fact, you hope he doesn’t– you’d question his sanity otherwise. “Why did Mozart hate chickens?”

“I don’t know,” you say, eager to hear the answer.

“Because when he asked them for their favorite composer, they said, “Bach! Bach! Bach!’”

You laugh– that is, of course, when your supervisor pokes his head out of the back and scowls at you. He should be happy that you’re ‘smiling enough’ but you know full well anything you do is never going to be good. You freeze whatever expression is on your face as Bucky’s mood darkens and your heart sinks. “Enjoy your coffee,” you say, infusing meaning into every word. That ekes out a small imitation of a smile as Bucky raises his cup and goes to his seat.

Your supervisor starts to stalk over to you but you are saved by the sudden ringing of a phone, and he blessedly turns on his heel and goes to answer.

You sigh and start cleaning up the counter. Bucky is in his corner, hunched over and quiet as usual. He looks fine, but you feel bad for the interruption, even though you get the impression he understands. Still, this is one nice thing you’ve had in this otherwise miserable job and you’re not going to lose yet one more good person to your superior’s shitty attitude.

You push out a roll of receipt paper, scribble ‘Why did the espresso keep checking his watch?’ on it, and stick it in your apron. You walk over to wipe down an untouched table and, before heading back, make a little detour to drop it next to Bucky’s arm. He grabs the paper as you’re scooting away (plausible deniability in case your boss comes out) but it isn’t until you’re back behind the counter that you realize what that just looked like. Does he think you just dropped your number? He hasn’t opened it yet. Is he trying to figure out a way to let you down? You suddenly regret playing into this so much; he was just trying to be nice, he probably didn’t expect you to latch onto it so–

He opens the paper, reads it, and shoots you a little smirk. You breathe a sigh of relief and mindlessly wipe things down and rearrange well-organized creamers and straws until Bucky comes up for his customary pre-leaving refill. You’re a little disheartened it’s that time already, but it means you’re that much closer to the end of your shift, at least.

“Why?” Bucky asks quietly. It takes you a second before you remember the receipt paper and you surreptitiously check the back to see the door is closed.

“Because he was pressed for time,” you say quietly as you hand back his cup.

He chuckles. “I like it,” he says and takes a sip. “Thanks,” he adds as expected, but then he winks and you…you just stare at him as he leaves.

Should you have dropped your number?

~

A few days later, Bucky is caught off his guard and pays for it.

“What’s this?”

Bucky doesn’t get to his coffee cup fast enough and Sam snatches it and reads. “Sam,” Bucky grumbles but there it is, Sam’s eyes go wide and he turns that stare on Bucky. “Don’t look at me like that,” Bucky snaps and snatches his drink back.

“You’ve been using my jokes to hit on a dorky barista?” Sam asks and follows him across the room.

“I’ve been using jokes from the site you steal yours from to share with the nice woman who makes my coffee,” Bucky says and sits in a chair. He never stays for Sam’s group VA sessions and he should have left sooner, damn it. “I wouldn’t use yours. They’re gross.”

“Potentially inappropriate for a lady,” Sam says. Bucky opens his mouth to argue but, no, that’s exactly it, even though Sam’s tone implies something completely different from what Bucky would have said. “What’s her name?”

“Bucky?”

Steve has never been more of an actual hero to Bucky than he is right now. Right on time to walk back home with Bucky, Steve wanders in, sees the two of them, and stops. “Oh, should I…”

“Let’s g–” Bucky is immediately stopped by Sam’s hand on his shoulder.

“Bucky’s got his eyes on someone,” Sam says, immediately centering himself as Bucky’s most hated arch-nemesis.

…Okay, maybe not, but if Bucky didn’t have real problems he would be.

“I do not,” Bucky grumbles, because he knows it’s pointless and Steve is immediately sitting in front of them and leaning in like he’s the last girl at the sleepover.

“Really Buck? That’s great!” Steve says. “Have you…are you going to make a move?”

“No,” Bucky says and quickly runs down the situation, hoping that it will clear things up but knowing his friends too well. Indeed, Sam and Steve share smirks before looking at him again.

“You’re a real hero,” Sam says, only partly joking.

“I hate you,” Bucky says, ducking his head down. He doesn’t really blush anymore, if he ever did, but the motion is instinctive.

“You don’t.”

“I wish I did.”

Steve grins, as does Sam, and Bucky wants to duck into a hole. Goddamn mother hens, they’re going to want to–

“Should we come by?” Sam asks and leans back in his chair. “Be real wingmen?”

“No,” Bucky says, harsher than he means to. Sam and Steve don’t look bothered– they’ve weathered worse emotional snaps than that– but they wait for him to explain and Bucky doesn’t know if he can. Because what if this is leading to something? Is he ready for that? He thinks he might like you, but would he be okay putting in the effort of getting to know you? What if he can’t handle it? What if Steve and Sam walk in and they’re all you see? Both of them are plenty distracting, and charming, while Bucky can hardly put one foot in front of the other, some days. And what if this isn’t leading to anything, you’re just nice, and it’s nice, but Sam and Steve find out and look at him with all the pity they can muster?

“I just…want to see it through. On my own. Whatever this is.” ‘Or could be’ he leaves unspoken, because hoping for anything still feels like too much.

“Okay,” Sam says first, because of course he does, but Steve nods along quickly. It’s enough to make Bucky exhale deeply and relax muscles he didn’t know he had tensed. He rolls his eyes and stands up to cover for it.

“You’ll keep us updated though, right?” Sam asks, an easy grin on his face as he lounges in the chair.

“Like I’ll be able to avoid it,” Bucky mutters, finishes his drink, and lets Sam know they’re okay by throwing the empty cup at his head.

~

The fact that you’re running out of coffee-related jokes is stressing you out. You wanted to keep on theme but too many more days of this and you’ll be scouring the internet for whatever jokes Bucky hasn’t used yet. There are some coffee-related puns, but…the ones you like carry a romantic hint to them, and you were hoping to save those in case Bucky showed any interest. So far you haven’t picked up on anything, but you’re also very oblivious, and your roommate thinks you’re an idiot and he’s obviously into you.

But he might not be.

You do what you’ve been doing since your boss snarked at you about flirting on the clock and get Bucky’s cup ready with maybe your favorite joke.

‘How did the hipster burn his tongue?

He drank his coffee before it was cool.’

And smile proudly at it. Your small handwriting is getting better– Bucky barely has to squint at it this time, and he gives you a conspirator’s smile when he slides his twenty-dollar bill across the counter at you, with the neatest print writing along the margins.

‘What do you call an alligator detective?

An investi-gator.’

It’s cute and you snicker to yourself as you gather his change and place it gently in his gloved hand. He doesn’t retreat to his corner right away, though, and shuffles in place. “I was…I just wanted to say…” But then his eyes glance to your side and his face freezes in an unfortunately familiar way. “Thank you for the coffee,” he says woodenly and raises his cup just so.

“Of course. Have a nice day,” you say as robotically as possible and watch him go. Your supervisor clears his throat pointedly and you pretend like the place isn’t as clean as it was since the last time you went around. But now you’re thinking. About how awkward Bucky looked, and how he mentioned wanting to say something…maybe…maybe he is open. To you. Potentially.

Tomorrow, you decide with a thrill of nauseating adrenaline. Tomorrow you’re going to bring it up.

~

The next day you arrive at the shop at your usual time in the pre-dawn cold only to find an extra padlock on the door and a note in the window.

You stare, dumbfounded, and read the note. You read it again. And again.

‘Out of Business.’

But nobody called you.

You immediately grab your phone and dial your supervisor’s number. When he doesn’t pick up you call it again because this cannot be real. The job was shit but it was a job, and you knew what to expect, and you’ll never see Bucky again, will you?

It takes almost half an hour for the asshole to pick up– or maybe more, as the sun is starting to show up– and upon answering, he snaps, “What?!”

“What happened?” you ask, just as unkindly.

Your boss grumbles unintelligibly but you wait. “Did you see the sign?”

“I was working yesterday; no one mentioned anything about this.”

“Corporate called last night.” He yawns loudly. “I tried to call you.”

That’s a lie if you’ve ever heard one, but your tongue gets tripped up in anger and he says, “Sorry but there’s no room at the other branches for you, your last check is in the mail,” and hangs up.

You stand there for a while, trying to blink away tears at the sudden upheaval of your life. You should have found a replacement job while you had a chance. You should have asked your co-workers where they were going. You should have given Bucky your number.

You stand there for a little while, debating spending money you shouldn’t on a nice breakfast to wallow in, when the sound of footsteps coming up behind you makes you turn around.

“Oh, Bucky,” you say and rub your face. You think you’ve managed to hold it in, but it’s chilly and any exposed skin feels frozen.

“What’s going on?” he asks and peers around you at the note.

“Um…” You gesture uselessly. “Apparently this location is no longer in business. Just found out.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. “That asshole didn’t even call you?!”

The amount of anger on your behalf startles you. Startles both of you, actually, but just as he’s about to say something you laugh and say, “At least that asshole isn’t my problem anymore.” You sigh. You have savings, and the other job, and there’s always some other crappy job waiting for someone like you. But there’s something here that won’t be, and you pull out your phone and start typing. “Um…Bucky…there’s something I wanted to say to you. But it’s hard to say.”

“Okay?” he asks. You squeeze your eyes tight, brace yourself for impending rejection, and hold out your phone.

‘I like you a latte,’ followed by your phone number, hopefully gets the point across. After a few seconds your phone buzzes and you jump and bring it back, hoping no one texted you anything terrible while Bucky was staring at your phone.

It’s a new number, and the text reads, ‘It’s hard to espresso my feelings for you.’

You look up at him and he’s smiling, mouth parted slightly, and you start smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. But it’s okay. “I only had two more coffee jokes left before that line,” you confess and save his name to his number.

“Maybe you can tell them to me over breakfast? My treat,” he says and extends his arm.

You don’t even have to think about it. “Your treat this time,” you say, and link your arm with his. “In return, I’m going to show you where to get some good coffee.”

“Oh I don’t know,” he smirks at you. “The last place had its perks.”

Lacking a good comeback, you push your face into his shoulder to muffle your laughter. He leans into you, and doesn’t pull away even when you’ve gotten under control.

It’s the beginning of a brew-tiful relationship.

[baepsaesbae]

Heal Me, Kill Me Ch.3

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Vampire! Tae x Vampire Hunter! y/n, ANGST, Smut +18, fluff

Warnings— Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, being tied up, Dom!Taehyung, ass eating

Word Count— 6.6k

Summary— You’re one of the best vampire hunters in the world. That’s to be expected when your parents are the best of the best. Your life had solely revolved around ruthlessly killing vampires. You were essentially a cold blooded machine. However, things take a turn once you meet Kim Taehyung, your latest target.

“When will I see you next, dear?” Taehyung asked as he walked you back to your car.

“When would you wanna see me?” you replied.

“Honestly, I’d never want you to leave. I’d selfishly keep you all to myself,” Taehyung lightly pinned you against your car door. 

“Maybe one day you could,” you say, wrapping your arms around him.

Taehyung planted soft kisses on both of your cheeks. You pulled him in for a deep kiss right as he began to step away. One hand cupped his cheek while the other got lost in the tresses of his long dark hair. Taehyung reciprocated your neediness as he roughly grabbed your ass. 

“I still need to repay you for the other day,” he seductively whispered.

“I’ll remember that for the next time,” you winked, “Meet at the flower shop tomorrow?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Taehyung gave you a final goodbye kiss.

The drive back was awful. You were torn. Torn between duty and passion. It was your duty to kill Taehyung, but your newfound empathy kept you from doing so. Even when Taehyung was on the brink of death, you couldn’t commit to your plan. 

Telling yourself that you needed to know the truth behind your parents’ death was just an excuse. Of course you want to know the details of what happened, but that’s not what stopped you from killing Taehyung. 

You just...couldn’t. You didn’t want to. Maybe there could be a way to fake his death? It could create the perfect cover to run away together. Maybe he could live with you in secret. Well, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the fact that you kill his brethren for a living. 

You have a month before Yoongi contacts you again. He’d know something is up by then. You’ve never taken longer than a month on a mission. Thinking about all this gave you a headache. 

You decide to do the responsible thing. You’re going to enjoy the month you have with Taehyung and worry about all of your problems when you can no longer run from them. Aside from the moral dilemma of having to exterminate your boyfriend, you actually felt happy. It felt nice having someone by your side. 

You fantasized about seeing the world with Taehyung. You wanted him to teach you more about plants, cook for you, and maybe most importantly, love you. The concept of love had been completely foreign to you. However, being with Taehyung sparked something you’ve never quite felt before. Was it simply the mortifying ordeal of being truly known by someone else? Or was it the acceptance and appreciation for the real you? Maybe it was a combination of both.

You hopped into the shower before your thoughts became too philosophical. You set your phone’s speaker on full volume and sang along to your favorite songs. TWICE had the best songs to sing and dance to in the shower (dancing in the shower can be dangerous, but you like living life on the edge). 

Being emotionally exhausted allowed you to fall asleep quickly. You woke up the next day feeling refreshed after a much needed good night’s sleep. Pairing a black maxi dress with a knitted cardigan, you felt cute and comfy. 

Biking to the shop was a simplicity that you enjoyed. It was relaxing, the scenery was gorgeous, and the simple act of biking to work made you feel like a normal person. There was a new shipment of flowers that arrived, along with a fresh set of bouquet orders. 

‘To keep you busy while your target takes his time, thanks flower girl :)’ was scribbled on a note atop the orders.

You rolled your eyes, silently cursing Yoongi. Thank god Taehyung was coming today, you could put him to work. You began to fill up multiple vases with water and plant food, humming as you worked. 

“Good morning ___,” a deep voice sang out as soon as the door opened.

“Morning dear! You’re in a good mood today,” you spun around to greet him.

“Of course, because I get to see you! I see you’re prepping vases. Do we have more orders to fill?” he asked excitedly.

“Indeed we do! I’m glad you’re excited about it,” you handed him the stack of orders. 

You admire Taehyung’s sharp yet delicate features as he glossed through the orders. His mouth moved silently as he read the order descriptions to himself.

“Do you only take orders for funerals?” he asked when he finished.

“Huh?” you were taken by surprise.

“It just seems like all of the bouquet orders contain flowers that symbolize sympathy in some way. Lilies, carnations, and especially chrysanthemums. In most European cultures, chrysanthemums are only used for funerals,” he explained. 

“I have no idea what these bouquets are for. I, well I guess we, merely fulfill the orders,” you shift uncomfortably. 

Taehyung was remarkably sharp. You remembered that Yoongi said these flowers are for the families who have been victimized by vampires. 

“Ah, okay. I was just curious. Let’s get to work, love. Can you bring me pink carnations and lilies please?” he asked.

The day was filled with nonstop preparations. You tied decadent bows around the vases that were finished as Taehyung arranged the most beautiful bouquets you’ve ever seen. He shyly explained that he loved art in all forms, and bouquet making was its own special artform.

“I used to paint a lot as a hobby,” Taehyung admitted.

“Why’d you stop?” you asked.

“I had no more inspiration. No muse, I guess you could say,” he said sadly.

“Do you still have your paintings? I’d like to see them.”

“They’re hidden away somewhere in my house, but I’ll dig them back up for you. It might make me a little sad though. I miss painting.”

“Why don’t you pick it back up? It doesn’t matter if you have a muse or not, just paint whatever comes to mind,” you shrugged.

Taehyung looks at you, visibly amused, “What do you think I should paint?”

“A dick,” you deadpanned. 

“A what?” Taehyung was shocked.

“A penis,” you cracked a smile.

“___! You’re so vulgar,” Taehyung blushed.

“I’m just kidding! But just for the record, I think your dick is pretty enough to paint,” you smirked.

“You think so?” Taehyung’s voice lowered.

He reached over to cup your cheek before leaning in to give you a quick kiss. Feeling playful, you lightly bit his bottom lip as he pulls away. Taehyung’s eyes darkened as soon as you did that.

“Someone is feeling bold,” Taehyung tsked before pulling you into him.

Grabbing you by the ass, he hoists you up and sets you on the counter. He harshly kissed you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, begging him to get closer. Taehyung kissed up and down your neck, before harshly sucking on it. The sudden pain caused you to cry out and squirm, but Taehyung’s firm grip prevented your escape. Taehyung chuckled at your response.

“Don’t think you can get away with being cheeky with me, darling,” he cooed in your ear.

His hand slipped between your thighs, his cold fingers lightly inching closer to your core. 

“Taehyung…” your voice trailed off.

“Yes, darling? What do you need?” he teased.

“I need you to--”

The front door chimed, interrupting you. Taehyung dragged you off of the counter with inhuman speed, spinning you back to your spot with the bows. The quick force made you dizzy, but you were grateful for it. It would have been embarrassing for a customer to catch you in such a compromising position.

“Hello again dear,” a familiar voice called out to you. 

You turn to see elderly couple smiling at you from the front of the shop. The elderly woman was waving at you.

“Good morning! How are you two? Here for your roses again?” you politely welcomed them in.

Taehyung is smirking to himself as the conversation continued. You wanted to hit him for being so brazen. The elderly couple updated you on their bakery, saying that next time they’ll bring you fresh goods. You laughed and told them you would gladly trade flowers for their baked goods. 

“Who is that handsome boy over there? Is that your lover?” the elderly woman whispered to you. 

“Oh, I uh, I guess you could say that. That’s my boyfriend,” you blushed, suddenly becoming shy.

“Wow you hit the jackpot, girl,” the elderly man remarked, “That boy might very well be the most handsome young man I’ve ever seen in my life. Besides myself of course.”

The couple laughed and you couldn’t help but join in. Taehyung shyly looked over and respectfully bowed. You could tell he reverted back to his timid and stoic state. You had forgotten how standoffish he was around new people. 

The elderly couple happily left with their regular bouquet of roses. Taehyung’s tension melted away as soon as they left the store. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself, they seemed sweet,” Taehyung apologized.

“Don’t worry about it. They’re the only customers I’ve ever had here. I guess the shop makes its money from all of these orders,” you resumed tying bows.

Taehyung’s smirk crept back onto his face as he snuck a glance at you.

“What?” you asked with annoyance. 

“Nothing.”

“Taehyung.”

“That’s me.”

“What are you smirking at?” you asked.

“Maybe you should look in a mirror,” he suggested. 

Horrified, you whipped out your phone. At first, you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing weird on your face. But then you saw it. A huge hickey was showcased in the middle of your neck. It was impossibly dark and its sheer size had you in awe. At first you were impressed, but then the dismay set in when you realized that the elderly couple must have seen it. No matter how blind they were, there was no way they could miss that. 

“Taehyung, you asshole!” you scolded him.

“Did you not enjoy receiving that?” he questioned.

“I did, but I didn’t want to show it off to my only customers!” you cried out.

“I’m sure they had their fair share of fooling around when they were younger,” Taehyung teased as he took your hand and pulled you closer, “Should we resume where we left off?”

“Can you remind me where we were?” you nipped at his ear. 

“Certainly,” he growled, hoisting you back onto the counter.

Planting kisses across your jawline, his hands spread your legs apart. Again his fingers flitter a trail in your inner thigh. Your neediness caused you to roughly press your lips against his while weaving your fingers in his hair.

His fingers grazed your clothed pussy, causing you to shudder. He lightly teased you, slowly rubbing your clit in a circular motion. 

“Faster,” you begged.

Taehyung obliged, picking up his speed. He applied more pressure, bringing you closer to the edge. Pulling aside your panties, his long fingers ran between your folds. You threw your head back in pure bliss.

He slowly inserted a finger into you, relishing your moans as he got deeper. You were so wet that he easily added a second finger. He took his time entering your pussy.

“You’re so warm, darling. And so wet. Is this all for me?” he gazed into your eyes.

“Yes, Taehyung. Oh mm,” was all you could say before trailing off into a moan when his pace picked up.

His fingers curled to hit your g spot with each pump. It was getting too intense, and your breaths became quick and shallow. You were right on the edge when Taehyung removed his fingers entirely. Your pussy clenched around nothing, and you whined at the sudden emptiness.

“Can I taste you, dear?” Taehyung asked.

You quickly nodded, desperate to get to your high. If Taehyung reduced you to this much of a mess with just his fingers, you could only imagine what his mouth could do. 

Taehyung buried himself under your dress, draping the fabric around his head. At first you couldn’t help but giggle. It looked a little silly, like he was hiding under your dress. Your giggle was replaced by a gasp when his tongue made contact.

He began lightly licking stripes through your folds, flicking your clit with his tongue each time. His tongue took its time exploring your intimate area, flattening out in order to gain the most coverage. 

His attention was then focused solely on your clit. He circled it with his tongue before gently sucking on it. The new sensation made you cry out even louder, but your voice hitched when he plunged two fingers back into you. 

The knot in your abdomen returned as your grip on Tae’s hair tightened. His free hand kept your legs spread open as you began to thrash around when your climax got closer. Taehyung was now moving his fingers at an inhuman pace, and his tongue was getting rougher on your clit. 

You let out a final cry as you release all over Taehyung, the intensity hitting you like a truck. You’ve never had an orgasm like this before. You were panting hard to catch your breath while Taehyung appeared from under your dress.

His face was glistening with your juices. He shot you a smug smile before wiping his face with the back of his hand. He seductively licked your essence off of his own hand. If you weren’t so spent, you would have immediately jumped on his dick after seeing that. 

“Did I satisfy you, ___?” Taehyung questioned.

“I believe so,” you exhale, “The evidence is all over your face. Wait, I think it’s on your forehead?” 

“Probably. I’m pretty sure you squirted. The inside of your dress is a mess,” Taehyung shrugged.

You hopped off the counter and sure enough, there was a puddle on the counter. Your dress was also a wet mess. A random passerby would have thought you wet yourself. You were flustered by the thought.

“I made quite the mess, huh,” you sighed.

“That’s my fault. Should I never repeat that mistake?” Taehyung playfully jabbed.

“I never said that,” you replied defensively, “But now I have to clean that up.”

“Can I help?” he offered.

“You can help by finishing the rest of the orders. I can take a few days off when all the orders have been fulfilled,” you suggested.

“A few days? Would you be free to spend those days with me?”

“What else would I do?”

Taehyung got back to work quickly. You chuckled at his diligence. To your surprise, Taehyung managed to complete the orders by the end of the day. He loaded up the cart by himself and hauled it over to the post office in record time. No doubt the postal workers were in awe at his sheer strength when they saw him single handedly bring drag the full cart. 

“So, are you free tomorrow?” Taehyung asked shyly when he returned.

“I think my schedule just cleared up. Why do you ask?” you played along.

“Would you like to come over and have a day on the lake with me? I can fish while you nap alongside me,” he suggested.

“Lemme think about it,” you pretended to mull it over, “I guess you convinced me. I’ll come over around 10? Or is that too early?”

“It’s never too early for you, darling. The best fishing happens around dawn anyway,” Taehyung replied.

“You want me to come around dawn?” your eyes widened.

“That would probably be too early huh? We can do something else instead then. Wanna be lazy and watch Netflix?”

“I thought you didn’t like technology,” you teased.

“I don’t. But I enjoy lounging around with you. And you got me hooked on Marco Polo.”

“Hell yeah I did. Just wait till you see Peaky Blinders!” you beamed enthusiastically.

“Can’t wait. I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked as you both stood outside the shop.

“Yes sir. It’s a date,” you nodded.

You found yourself waking up early the next morning, the excitement of seeing Taehyung made you restless. Was his hold over you that powerful? Or perhaps it was something else that had him never leaving your mind? Those questions swam in the back of your head as you picked out your outfit for the day. 

With your laptop bag in tow, you hopped into your car. It was around 8am by now. It was by no means the crack of dawn, however it was early enough for you to lull back to sleep if Taehyung really wanted to go fishing.

The sun was blocked by a thick wall of dark clouds, which was the normal weather in this area for some reason. Even without the sun shining down on you, a faint warmth hugged your body as you approached Taehyung’s house (and no, it wasn’t humidity). This feeling was new, and you couldn’t quite place it. It was as if the sheer buzz from your romantic feelings kept your cheeks warm 24/7. 

The front door swung open immediately after your first knock.

“___! Good morning, my darling. You’re here early,” Taehyung greeted you.

“I woke up early and decided it wouldn’t hurt to show up a bit earlier. Do you still wanna go fishing?” you asked.

“We can certainly try, if you’d like. We can have fish for lunch if I catch anything,” Taehyung pondered.

“I can potentially try more of your cooking? In that case, I definitely want to try,” you piped up.

Taehyung nodded in agreement. He helped you put your stuff away before disappearing to gather fishing supplies. In his absence, you blankly stared at the table where you tried to poison him just a few days prior. Was it a mistake to change your mind? If it was wrong to let him live, why did it feel so right to be with him?

“I got everything! Did you want to fish too? I only have one rod, but we can share,” Taehyung called out, snapping you away from your thoughts. 

“I’m fine with sharing. I’ll take a nap if I get bored,” you smiled at him.

You carried the fishing rod to the lake alongside Taehyung, much to his chagrin. He argued that he was more than capable of carrying everything by himself, but you claimed that you would feel useless if you didn’t help him. He let you carry the lightest item as a compromise. 

 Taehyung easily guided the little boat to the middle of the river. The shores were barely visible in all directions. It would be incredibly easy for either of you to dispose of the other. His back was turned to you as he cast off his line. A simple flick of your wrist and Taehyung’s head would be lost in the lake. Your body tensed up at the thought.

“Isn’t this scene so serene?” Taehyung broke the silence.

Your gaze moved from his back to the calm waters. It was indeed beautiful. Fog rolled along the surface of the lake, making it even harder to see the shoreline. Normally this would be perceived as eerie, but it was oddly romantic to you. 

Your body relaxed as you rest your head against Taehyung’s firm back. This predicament you were in was silly. Maybe if you came clean to Yoongi he’d support you. Afterall, he wanted you to have a normal life. Being with Taehyung for the last few weeks has made you feel like that kind of life was possible. 

“It’s beautiful, Taehyung. Like you,” you responded, hugging him from behind. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” he was amused.

“Of course I do. But so would anyone who’s ever seen you.”

“Your opinion is the only one that matters to me, ___. Thank you. You are the most stunning creature I have ever laid my eyes upon,” Taehyung happily hummed. 

“You’re too sweet. I feel so at peace right now. I think I’m gonna fall asleep,” you yawned.

“Go ahead, darling. This may take awhile,” Taehyung chuckled. 

You succumb to slumber almost instantly. It was an enjoyable nap until your dreams turned odd. You were enveloped in darkness, shivering. You gasped for air but to no avail as you struggled to breathe. 

“I wish I didn’t have to do this,” you heard a faint voice say.

“Tae? Taehyung are you there?” you cried out.

You abruptly woke up with a gasp, your sudden movement rocked the tiny boat.

“___? Are you okay?” Taehyung turned around to comfort you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I had a bad dream,” you replied.

“What did you dream about?”

“I’m not sure. It was weird. I couldn’t see anything, but I was extremely cold. And there was this voice. It kind of sounded like yours but I can’t really remember,” you shivered.

“Well, you’re okay now, darling. I’ll make sure no one can ever hurt you,” Taehyung reassured you, “Good news, I managed to catch 3 fish! They’re a pretty good size.”

Taehyung triumphantly showed you his catches. He was right. The fish were pretty sizable. You couldn’t wait to eat whatever he cooks up with them. 

You tried to shake off the uneasiness from your dream. Luckily, Taehyung distracted you on the way back. He started humming a tune, which soon turned into a song.

“I still wonder, wonder, beautiful story,” Taehyung sang aloud.

  His voice was captivating. You’ve never heard a voice so angelic before. His song calmed your nerves almost instantly. 

“I didn’t know you could sing. What can’t you do?” you asked in awe as you entered his home. 

“I just dabble in it. I have many hobbies. Like painting, as I mentioned before,” Taehyung admitted.

“You say you like to paint, but as soon as we have a painting date, you’re gonna reveal that you’re the next Monet or some shit,” you shook your head.

“I’m happy you hold me in such high regard, darling. I’ll admit that I’m a better cook than I am an artist,” he chuckled as he began prepping the kitchen.

“Oooh I can’t wait! Do you need any help?” you asked.

“No, I think I can handle it on my own darling. You just relax and keep me company, okay?” he made eye contact with you.

You smiled and complied with his request. You never grew tired of conversing with him. Before you knew it, the dish was complete. The fish were filleted in the most ornate manner, with a skill level on par with Gordon Ramsay. The taste was even more exquisite than the appearance. You’ve never foodgasmed before, but this dish just did you in. Taehyung gave you a boxy smile when you praised his food. 

The remainder of the month was filled with days similar to this one. As promised, you helped Taehyung tend to his garden as he gave you advice on how to not be a plant killer. One day, you surprised him with a painting date. You brought over small canvases and paints, only to find out that Taehyung has his own studio set up in one of the many rooms in his humble abode. Nonetheless, he was delighted by the surprise (turns out he also really was the next Monet, his paintings were incredible). 

You also began to spend the night at his place. You made it a habit to bring an extra set of clothes to leave in your car just in case. Taehyung even got you your own toothbrush to leave at his place (how romantic). 

Tonight marked the two month anniversary of you two meeting each other. Taehyung wanted to commemorate this day instead of the day you guys actually started dating. You thought it was odd, but you didn’t argue against it. 

He surprised you with an extravagant bouquet that he arranged himself. Dressed up in a suit and treated you to dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town. You dressed up too, the clothing was reminiscent of how you dressed on previous missions. 

You honestly forgot that you were on a job. You were too busy living out the life of your dreams. A normal one with the bonus of being in love with a gorgeous man who happened to love you back. The thought that your month of peace was nearly over crept up on you while you were getting ready. You pushed the thought away immediately. You still had time to live out your fantasy, even if it was fleeting. 

Your red velvet dress dipped scandalously low on your chest, and it hugged your curves promiscuously. Taehyung’s jaw dropped and transformed into a smirk as soon as he picked you up. 

The meal at the restaurant was good, but you both knew that Taehyung could cook a better one. But it was nice to go out for a change. You could feel eyes on you during the entire evening, but you weren’t sure if people were staring at you or your date. After all, your date’s appearance rivaled that of the gods.

“Did you enjoy your meal, darling?” Taehyung asked as the waitress took away the plates. You noticed that she took every opportunity she could to interact with him, such as filling up his water every time he would take a sip. You were going to say something, but decided against it since you couldn’t really blame her. 

“I did! I’m stuffed,” you huffed.

“Not yet.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not stuffed yet,” Taehyung repeated himself, then continued to lower his voice, “You look ravishing tonight. You’re always stunning, but tonight I don’t think I can control myself.”

“Who said I want you to?” you teased, leaning over to further expose your cleavage.

“Where the fuck is the check? We need to go immediately,” Taehyung flagged down the waitress.

Taehyung sped all the way back to his mansion. Every bump in the road caused you to squeeze your legs together, increasing your horniness. You tried to get Taehyung to put his hand on your thigh, but he refused. He claimed that if he touched you now, he’d have to take you then and there.

You couldn’t wait to get to your destination. You and Taehyung shared some sexual encounters, but he insisted on taking things slow. He did not want you to feel pressured to have sex with him (even though you made it clear that you truly wanted it). However, tonight was different. Taehyung would finally have his way with you, just like you’ve been wanting since you laid eyes on him.

He carried you bridal style all the way up to his room. He roughly threw you onto the bed, causing you to giggle.

“Get your giggles out now, love. I promise you, you won’t be laughing for the rest of the night,” Taehyung growled with a tone you haven’t heard before. 

You pulled him into bed with you, your lips locking into a passionate kiss. Hands began to wander as the kiss deepened. As tongues delved into foreign mouths, articles of clothing were being stripped off. You tossed off Taehyung’s suit jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. Taehyung grew impatient and ripped your dress in half. You whined in protest since you actually liked that dress, to which Taehyung laughed and promised to get you another. 

Now both in your underwear, Taehyung stopped to gaze at your nearly naked body. Your matching black lingerie made you look sinful, and Taehyung was ready to indulge. Your hand lightly grasped his bulge before it was swatted away. 

“Nuh uh, babygirl. You obey me. You are only to do what you’re told. Understand?” Taehyung scolded as he tied your wrists together with a rope you didn’t realize he had nearby. 

“Yes sir,” you responded. His dominance made you wet before he even touched you there.

“Good girl. Flip over,” he demanded. 

You followed his order, rolling over to lay on your arms and knees. You propped your ass out for him, wiggling it around playfully. A harsh slap stung your bottom, causing you to yelp out in pain.

Taehyung pulled down your panties, running a finger through your slick folds. He teased your clit, rubbing it in circles agonizingly slowly. Before you could complain, he licked a long and flat stripe along your pussy. His tongue swirled and flicked at a euphoric pace that had you seeing stars. He inserted two fingers into your soaked pussy as his tongue traveled to your ass.

You gasped at the new sensation, you’ve never had your ass eaten before. You tingled in new places as his tongue explored the intimate region. His fingers curled in you as he pumped them into you. You felt your climax build up as your pussy began to clench.

“Cum for me, babygirl,” Taehyung ordered, increasing his pace. 

The control he had over your body was incredible. You had an intense orgasm as soon as he uttered those words. Your body shook under him as you released the knot that formed in your lower abdomen. 

Taehyung flipped you onto your back with ease. Your chest was heaving and you tried to catch your breath.

“I think you’re wet enough for me now,” Taehyung smiled as he finally tugged off his underwear. 

You eagerly spread your legs open for him, signaling that you were ready. Taehyung relished the sight. He rubbed his cock along the folds of your pussy, hitting your clit with every stroke. You were oversensitive from your orgasm, which made you cry out each time he played with your clit.

“Are you ready, baby?” Taehyung teased your entrance with his tip.

“Please fuck me already. I can’t take your teasing any longer,” you begged.

Taehyung happily obliged. He took his time entering you, enjoying your drawn out moans. He let out a low groan when he finally bottomed out. He filled you up perfectly. He lingered in that position for a little too long. You had the silly idea of being cheeky.

“I guess you could say that I’m stuffed now,” you smirked.

“You haven’t felt anything yet,” Taehyung scoffed as he finally began to move.

His thrusts were powerful, allowing his dick to hit you in all the right places each time. Your moans were getting louder with every second. Your tied hands reached between your thighs, but Taehyung harshly grabbed your wrists.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” Taehyung admonished. 

As punishment, he pinned your tied up hands above your head as he began to pound into you mercilessly. You were lost in pure bliss when he did what you were trying to do earlier. He applied the perfect amount of pressure to your clit to make you go wild. Your body began to quiver again under him.

“Let’s finish together,” Taehyung panted. He was close. 

“Taehyung, I love you,” you made eye contact with him.

That sent him over the edge. The sincerity mixed with lust in your eyes was the final straw. He released his hot load into you as you also surrendered to your pleasure. 

“Now I would say that you’re stuffed,” Taehyung joked as he leaned over to kiss your forehead, “I love you too, ___. So much. More than you could ever fathom. In a way, you saved my life.”

“I did?” you were still out of it from your two intense orgasms.

“You did. But we can talk about that another day. I’ll get something to clean you up,” he chuckled. 

You were already asleep by the time he returned with a towel. He smiled to himself, wondering how you can go from sinfully seductive one second to downright adorable to the next. Taehyung happily cuddled up next to you and soon followed suit in slumber.

You had to return back to your house the next day. You stupidly forgot your laptop charger and Taehyung was whining because he wanted to watch Peaky Blinders. Taehyung dropped you off and waved cutely as you left the car. You promised that you’d watch the show with him the next day. 

The moment you stepped foot into your cottage you noticed something was off. The door gave way too easily, and the aura had changed. The once peaceful atmosphere of your safe haven had been replaced by an eerie stillness. It was akin to the silence before a major storm. 

You silently surveyed the immediate surroundings as you closed the door behind you. You knew you weren’t alone. Acting as if nothing was wrong, you casually walked to the bedroom. The intruder was watching you intently. 

You stretched nonchalantly, in hopes of luring the intruder out. It worked. A rustle of movement was heard behind you, allowing you to easily evade the attack. In a motion almost unseen to the human eye, you had your attacker pinned to the ground with a knife at their throat (it’s good practice to always keep a weapon on you in this profession). 

“I really thought I had you that time,” your attacker sighed.

“Jungkook? What the fuck are you doing here?” you angrily questioned, tilting his chin up with your blade. 

“I could ask the same thing,” he retorted, unfazed by the knife at his throat, “What the fuck have you been doing here for the past two months, ___?”

“I’m on a mission. Is that a problem?” you masked your alarm.

“It is if you refuse to kill your target. I’ve been tailing you for the past week. You’ve had so many chances to finish that thing off, yet here we are,” he replied smugly.

“Did Yoongi send you?”

“Who else?”

“Go back and tell him that I’m working on it.”

“You want me to lie?” Jungkook dramatically dropped his jaw.

That angered you, causing you to apply just enough pressure with the knife to break his skin. A line of blood trickled down the blade.

“Why did you choose to reveal yourself now?” you snarled.

“I got bored. Tracking you is boring. Watching you pretend to be in love with that thing is boring. I came to give you an ultimatum. Either you kill it, or I will. That thing killed your parents, ___. You have to remember that it’s a monster,” Jungook challenged you, “Guess little Miss Number One is finally slipping.”

“Fuck you. All those years of chasing after my ass finally getting to you? Second best isn’t such a bad thing.” you mocked.

“Fuck me? If you insist,” Jungkook winked, “You know, this position is kinda hot. You into knife play?”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say in disgust, finally releasing your hold on him.

You sit on the bed, watching Jungkook as he paced around your room. Processing his ultimatum had you in a trance. By now, you had no chance of killing Taehyung. You foolishly fell in love with him. 

However, you didn’t think Jungkook would be able to win in a fight against Taehyung. Jungkook is too brash, and Taehyung is too powerful despite his atypical behavior. Even if Taehyung killed Jungkook, that would only cause more problems. The VEC would be even more eager to exterminate him, and will probably send multiple teams in to do the job. Maybe you could convince Yoongi to call it off. Maybe, by some miracle, he would listen to you.

“___? ___? Yoohoo. If you’re gonna ignore me, you should at least stop staring at my dick,” Jungkook stood before you.

“Huh?” you were pulled out of your daze and looked up at him , “Oh. Don’t flatter yourself, Jungkook. I wouldn’t stare at your shrimp dick even if my life was on the line.”

“My Jungcock is the size of a jumbo shrimp, thanks for noticing,” Jungkook grinned.

“God, you’re so disgusting,” you rolled your eyes.

“And yet the vamp ladies can’t get enough of me. They’re willing to die for this dick,” Jungkook nodded.

“I don’t think they’re exactly willing, but sure. Do me a favor, go back to Yoongi and tell him that the job is done,” you say quietly.

“Oh? You’re gonna kill your lover boy?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow. 

“Duh. It’s my job. It’s just been hard to find an opening--”

“Bullshit. I told you, you’ve had numerous openings. You just refuse to take any of them for some reason. Don’t tell me that you’ve actually gotten attached to your target,” Jungkook said in disbelief.

You remained quiet, avoiding eye contact. There was no use in lying, Jungkook would see right through you.

“Holy shit, ___. You dumb bitch,” Jungkook laughed.

“I told you that I would handle it. Just go tell Yoongi that the job is done,” you pleaded.

“And get chewed out in your place? No thank you,” Jungkook sat beside you, “So, what happened?”

You tell him everything. Despite him being a dick, Jungkook was probably the closest thing you had to a friend. He was orphaned due to a vampire attack, so the VEC took him in. You’ve been rivals since you were kids. 

“Sounds like you might actually have real feelings for this thing,” Jungkook said after hearing you out.

“He’s not a thing, his name is Taehyung,” you admonished, “But yes, I think I actually am in love. I fucked up big time, Jungkook,” you exhaled in exasperation. 

“Feels bad man,” Jungkook shook his head, “Major F.”

“Ok thanks for your sympathy,” you huffed.

“You still have to kill him. You know that right?”

“I know. It’s just going to be really hard,” you fought back tears.

Jungkook watched you struggle to hold everything in. He pulled you in for a hug. You suddenly let it all out, crying into his chest. Everything came crashing down. You have to fulfill your mission. Even if you failed, the VEC would pursue Taehyung relentlessly. You owe it to him to give him a peaceful death. 

Your special poison. That’s how you’ll do it. Once he’s immobile, you’ll be able to behead him in one quick motion, making it virtually painless for him. But god, it’s gonna hurt like hell for you.

“Do it the next time you meet him. If you don’t, I’ll kill him myself,” Jungkook said after you finished crying. He said it in a tone that let you know that it’s not a threat, but rather a promise that he’ll back you up. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night. You tried to convince yourself that Taehyung was just a monster that charmed you to bend to his will. You tried to believe that he doesn’t actually love you. You tried to believe that everything was a lie. 

But you just couldn’t. 

You didn’t want to think about how tomorrow will be the last day you’d ever see him. It would be the last time he would ever hold you in his arms, the last time he’d gaze at you with his beautiful eyes, and the last time he would ever say that he loves you.

You drove to Taehyung’s house the next day, as promised. Taehyung waited for you in his usual spot on the fountain’s edge. His lips curled into a smile as soon as you drove in. God, you’d miss that smile.

He bounded over to you as you parked the car.

“Hello darling! Oh, are you alright?” Taehyung asked with a concerned look when he saw your puffy eyes, “Have you been crying?”

“I got emotional last night. It was stupid. Don’t worry about it,” you faked a smile. 

“It’s not stupid if you cried over it. What upset you?”

“The thought of losing you,” you answered honestly.

“Aw, that’s sweet. Don’t worry, my darling. You won’t be rid of me any time soon,” Taehyung pulls you into a tight embrace to reassure you.

“I hope not,” you quietly replied.

Published October 16, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

[littlestarofthewest]

Santa’s Little Helper

This was supposed to be a Christmas present for the lovely @verai-marcel​, but tumblr fucked me over and didn’t post it. I’m sorry, dear. Please accept a veeery belated Merry Christmas ❤️️ It was hard to write something for the person who already wrote everything, but I did my best :)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader | Words: 2674 | Rating: Explicit!!!

Summary: You hate working at the mall as an elf. At least until a new Santa comes around.

You have to dig deep into your closet for your costume. You remember exactly how you tossed it in there last year, fed up from hanging around the mall wearing a stupid get up and a fake smile.

Every year, you tell yourself that you'll do better and won't have to do this anymore, but your year has been shitty, and while you hate being an elf, it's a steady gig with good pay. 

After changing in the staff room at the mall, you head out to assist the others in setting up Santa's workshop. Without customers around, you can hold on to the rest of your dignity for now.

Santa's little helpers are a combination of a few new people and some regulars like you. They happily welcome you back, lifting your spirits a little. While decorating the giant slide, you overhear them talking about the new Santa. The old one went into retirement last year, making him the second one you saw come and go. It makes you curious how the new guy is going to be. 

He shows up about half an hour later in full costume. The black belt digs deep into his full belly, a fake white beard hanging over it. The big boots make a heavy sound as he walks, the bobble on his cap swaying back and forth. 

He exchanges a few words with the mall's manager before he walks over with purpose in his stride. It makes you confident that he's not a drunk or otherwise abuses substances that will hinder his performance. There's nothing worse than having to constantly supervise Santa, so he doesn't scare off the children.

He greets the other elves and helps with a few last-minute preparations. You're battling an oversized candy cane that's about to topple over and bury you when a huge hand grabs its top, holding it in place. New Santa is standing next to you, so close that you catch a glimpse at his piercing blue eyes. 

"Careful," he says, his voice a deep rumble.

"Thank you," you say, tying down the rope that holds the candy cane in place. "I feared that one of these monstrosities might finally get me."

"You've done this before, huh?"

His voice sends a shiver down your spine, but you do your best to act calm. "A couple of times. You?"

"Me, too. Just not at this scale," New Santa says, looking around. "Usually, I go from door to door in small towns."

"Why the change then?"

"I just moved here, closer to my brother. My sister in law has a baby on the way, and I'm planning on helping out. Chances are she'll kill my brother otherwise."

"Sounds like a lot of responsibility."

"I'm Santa," he says with a laugh, clapping his huge belly. "I think I can manage."

"Let's see how you handle the mall crowd first," you say in a teasing tone.

He sizes you up for a moment, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "You're going to help me?"

"It's my job," you laugh, "like, literally."

New Santa smiles, holding out his hand. "I'm Arthur, by the way."

You tell him your name while shaking his hand, warmth spreading up your arm and to your chest. There's something so very different about this Santa compared to the others. It's going to be interesting to work with him.

-----

Since you've started working with Arthur, a miracle has happened. For the first time, you're actually enjoying the job. Arthur's great with the kids and endlessly patient even with the most pretentious parents. He doesn't take their shit, but he always finds a way to defuse the situation. 

The breaks with Arthur are nice as well. He's quiet, but when you find the right topic, he's easy to talk to. Over time, you go from joking over teasing to right out hazing each other. If you're honest, it sometimes even feels a little bit like flirting. Still, you try not to read too much into it. The days of working with him are numbered, after all.

After one horrible shift where a kid is dead set on ripping off Arthur's beard, and another one vomits all over his shoes, you tell him to clear out. You and the other elves clean up, and when you finally enter the locker room, it's quiet. At first, you think you're on your own, but then you turn the corner, finding another co-worker half-hidden in his locker.

"What a night, huh?" you say, making him aware that you're here.

"You can say that again," he says, the voice sending the usual shiver down your spine. Arthur appears from inside the locker, smiling at you. "Thanks for cleaning up. I'll help out tomorrow."

You wish you could say anything, but you're too distracted by Arthur's appearance. It only occurs to you now that you've never seen him without the costume before. Without the fake beard, there's still a nice stubble shadowing his chin and cheeks. The huge Santa belly makes way for a nice little tummy that you wouldn't mind kissing, especially to get to whatever's hidden under the tight jeans Arthur's wearing.

"You alright?" Arthur asks, honest concern on his face, so you decide to tell the truth.

"I just realized I've never seen you without the costume. You're not really old and fat."

Arthur laughs, clapping his stomach. "I'm getting there, especially with the holidays coming up."

"Is your partner a good cook?" you ask, hating yourself a second later, but Arthur shrugs before pulling a shirt over his head.

"Nah, I'm single," he says, sitting down to put on his shoes. "Just got a bunch of friends who drown me in holiday treats."

"Not the worst way to go," you say, and Arthur laughs.

"You're right. I really can't complain." He picks up his bag but leans against his locker, obviously in no rush. "How about you? Any plans for the holidays?"

"The usual," you say with a shrug. "Eating, drinking, and staying in bed as much as possible."

"That sounds great," Arthur says, and the way he looks at you makes you feel like you're in a heap of trouble.

-------

"I can't get you all in the frame like this. Move closer together, people," the photographer says.

It's your last day on the job, and the manager insists on an annual picture of the Christmas Crew. You shuffle closer to your co-workers, but the photographer still isn't satisfied. He alternates between checking his camera and barking instructions.

"You there, stand behind the slide. You three on the side, get on the ground in front. And you, you can sit on Santa's lap."

With horror, you realize that the last order is directed at you. When you don't move, the photographer clicks his tongue with annoyance. "Go on, dear. I'm sure he doesn't mind. It's in his job description."

You throw a questioning look at Arthur, and when he gives you a little wave, the photographer claps his hands. "See? Now, the two of you, up here."

He keeps giving orders while you settle down on Arthur's lap, trying your hardest not to put any weight on him. That works for about a minute, but the photographer keeps giving orders, and you fear your legs might cramp up.

"I'm not going to break, you know?" Arthur whispers behind you, and you move around a bit to get in a better position.

It's not so much about not hurting Arthur but more about not embarrassing yourself. You had a crush on Arthur from the start, but ever since you've seen him out of costume, it's been way worse. You've been thinking about him a lot, and he even showed up in your dreams. Being close to Arthur is dangerous. It wouldn't be the first time you did something foolish because of a guy.

The photographer keeps rearranging people, giving you ample time to notice how good Arthur smells and how hot his body feels against your own. It makes you tingly all over to think about certain things you could do together. Without meaning to, you move around even more until you hear Arthur's breath hitch behind you.

You're about to ask if he's alright, but then you feel something pressing up against your ass, and a wave of heat rushes through your body. Arthur tries to shift his weight under you, but then the photographer finally seems satisfied.

"Alright, nobody move!" he instructs before diving behind his camera. "Big smiles!"

You do your best to force a smile on your face while you still feel Arthur pressing hard against you. The photographer lets all of you make faces or wave, every second of it seeming like hours. You wish you could say that it didn't affect you, but the thought of Arthur's dick merely a few layers of clothing away from your pussy gets you all worked up.

Thoughts of you together rush through your head, and you can't help but move a little, making Arthur groan behind you. You wish you could just turn around and make things interesting, but instead, you jump up the second the photographer releases you.

You still feel hot all over by the time you arrive at your locker, and you busy yourself with your phone, not wanting to change now with other people still around. 

This morning, you even thought about asking Arthur for his number, so you wouldn't lose track of him, but that's out of the question now. You just hope he's not one to harbor a grudge in case you both end up working here next year.

"Hey," a deep voice says next to you, and you jump in surprise.

Arthur's standing at the far end of the row of lockers, fidgeting with his hands. "We're the last ones here, but I can leave as well if that makes you uncomfortable."

You didn't notice that everybody left already, but you don't mind at all. This gives you a chance to apologize. "No, it's alright."

"I just wanted to apologize for what happened out there," Arthur says. "It's just that you're so goddamn sexy, especially in that stupid costume, and you were sitting right there-"

You can't believe what you're hearing, but Arthur stops himself, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "I'm not trying to make excuses. I'm just very sorry for what happened, and I hope we can just forget about it."

"Don't worry about it, Arthur. I'm not uncomfortable, and you did nothing wrong," you say, trying to reassure him. "I would be happy to ride on your lap any time."

"Oh, okay. Good," Arthur says, a nervous smile dancing around his lips. "Have a good evening then."

He disappears behind the lockers, and you lean back against your own, swallowing a sigh. You can't believe you said something so stupid. Arthur's a sweetheart, and you totally blew it.

You open your locker to get out your clothes when Arthur rounds the corner. "You said 'ride,'" he says, "not 'sit' on my lap but 'ride.' Did you mean like-?"

He doesn't finish the sentence, but you can't help yourself. "Like sex, yes."

You both stare at each other, and you're about to apologize, but then Arthur moves. A second later, your hands are in his hair, and he cups your face in his hands as you kiss. You end up pressed against your locker, you and Arthur both ready to devour each other. Still, he manages to move a few inches away, both of you breathing heavily. 

"Is that okay?" Arthur asks in between breaths. "Do you want to-?"

"God yes," you say, cutting him off to pull him in for another kiss.

Your permission seems to hit a switch inside of Arthur. He picks you up, and you end up on the next durable surface, Arthur's hands roaming all over you. You reach down to lift his shirt over his head, and while he opens the buttons on your blouse, you run your hands over his chest and stomach.

As soon as you're out of your blouse, Arthur kisses along your neck, down to your breasts. Your fingers dig into the skin on his shoulders as he teases your nipples with his tongue, both of you not wasting any time. When Arthur runs his fingers up your thigh, you pull up your skirt and spread your legs. 

Arthur simply pushes your underwear aside to tease your pussy, and you're getting so wet that you can think about nothing else but getting off as hard and fast as possible. You open up Arthur's pants, his low curse when you pull out his dick, giving you way more satisfaction than it should.

Grabbing your legs, Arthur pulls you closer, and you can't help a little cry when he pushes into you. It's been a while since you've been with someone, and with the way this is going, you won't last long. 

You put your arms around Arthur's neck, and he lifts you up a little. It's not exactly riding him, but you roll your hips to welcome each of his thrusts, both of you moaning and panting.

It feels so good; you wish you could drag it out, but the way Arthur's holding you in place to have his way with you already got you going, and then Arthur does the worst thing he can do.

He's holding on to your hair, his lips right by your ear, whispering between eager breaths. "Dammit, you feel so good. I dreamed about this."

Arthur talking right into your ear feels like someone poured honey all over you, a nice glaze soon covering every inch of your body. You pull him closer, doing your best to get as much friction as possible.

"Jesus, sweetheart, you're killing me here," Arthur groans, sending you right over the edge.

Your muscles clench around him as you come, your face burrowed in the crook of his neck. He doesn't move until you relax and your breathing evens out a little. Still, you feel how Arthur is, so you roll your hips, drawing more curses from him.

"Come on, Santa," you whisper in his ear, "let your little elf please you."

Arthur groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he buries himself inside you with short, hard thrusts. With eager moans, he picks up the pace, and although he seems like he might explode any second, he manages to kiss you in such a tender way that you feel like melting.

Finally, Arthur pushes deep into you, and this time he stays there until he comes, the tension slowly fading from his body. While he's focused on breathing, you scratch his back and stroke a few loose strands of hair out of his face.

Arthur looks up to you with a thankful expression, and you smile. "This morning, I thought about asking for your number."

"I guess we rushed way past that," Arthur says with a laugh, but then he reaches into the pocket of his jeans and hands you a small piece of paper. I usually start with coffee - not this."

You kiss him one more time before you part to get dressed. "I wouldn't mind coffee."

Arthur runs a hand through his hair. "I've got some great coffee at home."

"Do tell," you say, acting nonplussed as you get your things out of your locker.

"Remember what you said about not getting out of bed, just relaxing?" Arthur asks. "I have a nice bottle of wine I could never finish by myself."

The mere thought of spending more time with Arthur makes you all tingly, and you turn around to look at him. "Did you borrow that suit, or do you take it home with you?"

Arthur grins. "Really? Santa?"

"Probably not every Santa," you say, running your hands over his chest before kissing him again, "but I like this one."

-------

For the next two days, you and Arthur only leave his bed when you absolutely have to.

[tetsuroyaoyaoya]

I Like You a Latte

iwaizumi hajime x reader

masterlist

synopsis: in which hajime learns to appreciate the art that is coffee, as well as the cute barista responsible for his drinks every morning. 

“Coffee is my energy; it’s my life, my soul, it’s-”

“Tōru, we get it, you’re dead inside just like the rest of us. Now can you please get me that slice of lemon cake I asked you for?” You stared in disbelief as your coworker physically stomped his foot, as if he was throwing a toddler tantrum. He grumbled about it underneath his breath, but eventually tottled over to the cake fridge to fetch you what you wanted. 

“Y/n-channn! Don’t you love working here with me?” Avoiding answering, you took the wrapped up cake from him and put on your best smile as you handed it to one of your regulars, along with their favourite drink.

“Enjoy! Have a nice day!” The smile was gratefully returned, and you immediately got onto making the next drink. 

Being a café fairly close to the centre of a college campus, there was always a rush in the morning without fail, due to the hundreds of students rushing in to get their fix of caffeine before their nine o'clock lectures. However, someone had to work those shifts, and since most of your classes fell in the afternoon, you were that person most of the time. 

Four times a week, you worked the open shift, with a different co-worker every time, seen as most didn't have the same schedule as you and so could only work the shift on their days off. 

Today was Tōru’s day.

While Oikawa was sometimes difficult to work work with, his people skills were unmatched, and he could start up a conversation with pretty much anyone that walked up to the counter. It helped that he was attractive as well, meaning that there were people that came by just on the off chance that they’d have an opportunity to talk to the ‘prettiest boy on campus’. You didn't understand it one bit, but it brought in customers and made the shop more money, so you couldn't really complain. 

“Y/n-channn?” Without looking up from the drink you were pouring, you rolled your eyes, seriously not understanding he boy’s overwhelming amount of energy so early in a morning. 

“My friend is late for his lecture, can you make him a drink in advance so it’s ready for when he gets here?” After handing the drink to the customer and wishing them well, you glanced around the shop, noticing that the rush was finally at its end and the shop was pretty much empty by now. 

“Sure. What does he want?” Walking back to the machine, you tapped the used coffee grounds out of the portafilter before preparing more, ready to pull some shots. 

“He said just a coffee.” You let out an audible sigh. ‘Just a coffee’ was one of your most hated phrases, and you were too far into your shift to deal with someone like that, especially so early in the day.

Instead of asking him to specify, you just chose for him, going with a simple latte, knowing it was the most basic drink, and hopefully you could cheer the guy up with some fancy art on top. 

You heard the bell on the door chime just as you were pouring the milk, whoever it was being in what sounded like a major rush. 

“Iwa-chan!” 

“Shittykawa, hurry up. I’m late.” Furrowing you eyebrows at the tone, you finished up the drink, a beautiful swan sitting atop the latte. Placing the drink on the counter, you looked over to the register just as Tōru’s friend finished paying. Your eyes widened slightly as he turned just enough for you to see his face, knowing that you shouldn’t be surprised that even your coworkers friends were hot, seen as attractive people always tended to attract each other. 

You made sure to smile extra wide as he rushed over, only for him to completely ignore you. Instead, he grabbed a handful of sugar packets, pouring them into the drink all at once, completely ruining the design as he stirred them in as fast as he could. 

“Enjoy!” You tried you best to stay amiable as he merely grunted in thanks, throwing his trash away before walking out of the store. 

You stared after his in disbelief for a second, having not encountered a customer that rude in a while.

“For such a pretty face, his attitude is horrible. You’re friends with that guy?” Oikawa didn’t look overly concerned, but his smile was a bit tighter than his usual carefree expression, so you guessed that was a bit out of the ordinary. 

“Uh, well, he’s always a bit indifferent, but he must be in a pretty bad mood today. Sorry about that.” He was slightly guilty for getting you to make his friend’s drink only to be treated like that but you brushed it off, having worked in customer service so long that it rarely affected you anymore. 

“I’ll get him to apologise the next time he stops by! I can’t have him upsetting my precious Y/n-chan!” You giggled as he tried to catch you in a hug, only for you to sidestep him, watching as he stumbled past. 

“Stop being silly and go clean the shop floor, please?” He righted himself, and you handed him a cloth along with the disinfectant spray so he could wipe down the tables while you tidied the bar.

“Anything for you Y/n-chan!”

                                   ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was just two days later when you saw Oikawa’s friend again, entering the café a lot earlier than he had the first time. You were the only one working currently, the second barista not being due to start for another half an hour or so with it being so quiet before the morning rush.

Before you could even greet him, he stopped in his tracks and stared at you for a moment. You paused yourself, extremely confused, but he merely shook his head and continued making his way to the register. 

“Shi- uh, Oikawa said I was a bit rude to you the other day and I just wanted to apologise. I was having a rough morning and didn't realise I was being a dick, so I’m sorry.” Your lips twitched upwards in amusement at how genuinely guilty he looked, and you knew Tōru must have exaggerated how annoyed you actually were. 

“It’s fine, honestly. We all have those mornings. Can I get you anything?” He seemed grateful that you weren't holding a grudge and took a quick look at the menu. You watched as he squinted at the board above you, knowing he didn't have a clue what any of the drinks were. 

“Shall I just make you the same as last time?” He was grateful at the lack of judgement in your tone, and nodded immediately. You put it through the register and he paid, before moving over to the counter to wait while you got started. 

“I hope you weren't late for your lecture.” His eyes followed your every move, but you paid it no mind as you prepared the coffee, only looking up at him once you began steaming the milk, seen as he hadn't answered you yet. 

He blinked, cursing at himself for being to distracted, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself at his absentmindedness. After all, you couldn't deny how cute he was. 

“Only by a few minutes, but the professor was even later, so I got away with it.” You giggled as you pulled the jug away from the steam arm, wiping it down and purging it clean.

He found himself leaning forward slightly to get a better look as you poured it into the cup, swirling and wiggling the jug in a way that he didn't understand. 

Didn't you just pour it in?

A few seconds later, you were placing the cup on the counter so he could admire your work. 

“A... snail?” He continued to stare at it as you wiped down the counter in front of the machine. 

“It’s cute, right?” He looked completely clueless and you smiled to yourself. 

“Okay, so this is a latte. It’s not as strong as the others and more milky. You can use the milk to make art on the top like this.” He stared at you, lips parted slightly, obviously still knowing exactly what you were telling him. 

“You won't know the difference between types until you try more of them.” He grinned, already reaching for the sugar.

“Is that an invitation to see you more often?” It wasn't something that you hadn't heard before, and yet it still made your heart flutter ever so slightly. 

“Depends if you drop in when I’m here.” Handing him the lid to cover his drink, his fingertips brushed yours, sending tingles through your hand. Swallowing heavily, you hoped he hadn’t noticed and distracted yourself by brushing down your apron, even though it wasn't dirty. 

“Well, I hope I see you around.” He shot you a dazzling smile before walking out of the door, almost bumping into your second barista as she arrived for her shift. Finding yourself at a sudden loss for words, you could only nod at her as you handed her the keys to the staffroom, ignoring the odd look she gave you.

Maybe he wasn't all that bad. 

                                   ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn’t actually see Oikawa’s friend after that, and out of curiosity - or maybe stupidness - you decided to inquire about his absence the next time you were working with him. 

“Iwa-chan? Oh, I haven't really seen much of him lately. Not ever since he started seeing his new girlfriend.” Girlfriend?

“Oh, okay.” Oikawa frowned at your tone, assuming that you wouldn't think anything of it, seen as you barely knew him. He decided not to push, but noticed that you were in a particularly foul mood for the rest of the shift, barely even glancing at him as you clocked out. 

Strange. 

                                   ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was another week before Iwaizumi stepped into the café again, but he was disappointed to see that you weren't on the bar with Oikawa. There were a few people in line, but as smooth as he was, he was handling the shop in his usually calm and carefree manner. 

“Iwa-chan!” Even in the middle of making a drink, Tōru still managed to wave at him, earning a mere nod in response as he walked up to the counter.

“Where’s your friend?” He stepped out of the way so that a customer could collect their drink, only just catching Tōru’s frown. 

“Y/n? They have an exam later so they took the day off. They’re over there.” A nod to the other end of the store and sure enough, you were sat hunched over the table in a hoodie that looked one size too big, scribbling frantically in a notebook. 

“Actually, can you take this over to them? I meant to do it, but then it got busy.” By the time Iwaizumi looked back at the drink Oikawa had placed on the counter in front of him, he was already off serving another customer, not really giving him a choice. 

The drink didn't look like the ones you had made for him, and not nearly as pretty. It looked the colour of coffee but it was iced, chilling his hands as he carried it over to your table. 

You almost jumped when he sat it down in front of you, looking up as he took the seat across from you. 

“Long time, no see.” He gave you a smile, and you tried to give him one back, but your usual enthusiasm was nowhere to be seen. Your eyes were rimmed red, and you had a red mark on the side of your neck, presumably from rubbing it every time you got stressed. He didn't like it. 

“So, what drink today?” He nudged the cup towards you, and you took it, mixing it around with your straw. 

“Iced white chocolate mocha.” Iwaizumi stared at you blankly, questions already running through his mind.

What in the world was a mocha? And iced chocolate? What? 

You managed a low chuckle at his visible confusion, holding your drink out towards him.

“Try it.” You expected him to take the entire drink from you, but instead, he leaned down, taking the straw between his lips as he had a sip. You tried not to blush, looking away for a second. 

The drink was sweet, maybe too sweet for him, but he could definitely taste the chocolate. There was coffee in there as well, but it was all cold. 

Weird.

You cleared your throat and took a sip of your own, desperately trying not to think about the fact that you may have just shared an indirect kiss. 

“A normal mocha is basically just a hot chocolate with espresso. An iced mocha is the same but made with chocolate syrup and milk, ice, and espresso.” He seemed to understand this one a bit more than the last drink you explained, earning a nod from him. 

“Just ask Tōru to surprise you and he’ll make you something on the menu to try.” As if he knew you were talking about him, he waved over in your direction, making you smile. 

“I don't think it would taste as nice if you aren't the one making it.” He got up anyway, making his way back to the register to order something, leaving you dumbfounded, alone once again to carry on studying. 

                                   ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Once again, Iwaizumi disappeared for a couple weeks, and with finals coming up, you had been forced to change your work schedule in order to fit you exams and study time around your shifts. This meant you had barely worked any morning shifts, opting instead for closing ones. So, whenever the boy actually dropped in, using coffee as an excuse to see you, you were never there. 

That was, until one storming night, you were just getting ready to start cleaning the entire shop after closing, when the bell on the door rang through the shop.

“I’m sorry, we’re clo-” You stopped dead in your tracks as the door slammed close, a flash of lighting illuminating the shop. 

A dripping wet Iwaizumi stared back at you, hair completely flattened instead of its usual spikiness, dripping rainwater over his face, almost hiding his stony expression.

“Oh my- Are you okay?” You rushed into the back, grabbing the blanket and hoodie Oikawa always kept in the staff room for napping on his breaks. 

You tried your best to help him get dry, but he just brushed you off, so you stepped back and let him do it himself. 

“She broke up with me.” Swallowing heavily, you could only watch as he brushed his hair back, out of his eyes. it meant you could finally see his entire face and you froze as his eyes landed back on you, staring you down. 

He didn't look all too sad, you only being able to see his regular indifference. Even so, he looked breathtaking, and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. 

“Sit down. I’ll make you a drink.” He did as you said, and you quickly distracted yourself as he pulled off his jacket, fingers finding the hem of his shirt to take that off as well to replace it with Oikawa’s hoodie. You daren't look, instead turning your back to him to stare at the tray of cakes you had prepared to throw out, seen as you could only keep them displayed for so long. 

You loaded a separate tray up with a few cupcakes, as well as the last slice of the best cake the café offered, before deeming it had been long enough for Iwaizumi to change and plucking up the courage to start on the drinks. 

Luckily, you had judged right, and he was currently sat in one of the comfier chairs, wrapped like a burrito in the blanket. 

It was one of the cutest things you had ever seen. 

“Today we have a plain ol’ hot chocolate. I don't think you need me to explain this one.” He smiled at you, amused, and you felt a small sense of victory. 

You placed the cake onto the table and slid it over to him, picking one of the forks up off of the tray and holding it out. He took it, but nudged the cake back towards you until it was in the middle of the both of you. 

“Let’s share.” He mimicked you, handing you the other fork. 

A silence settled over the shop for a moment as you both took a bite of the cake, savouring the taste. 

“So, what happened?” He let out a sigh, tongue darting out to catch a crumb stuck on his lip. 

“She said it was like I was always itching to be somewhere else. With someone else.” Oh. So he liked someone else? 

“I brought her here once, when you weren't working. She knew something was up when I asked where you were before even ordering.” You almost choked on the forkful of cake you were eating, having to cover your mouth to prevent yourself from spitting it out and embarrassing yourself. 

“Me?” He chuckled at you, placing his fork down on the table despite not being finished yet. 

“Yes, you. It was you I was looking for. It has been ever since I stepped foot in here.” You could only blink at him, reminding him of all the times he had the same reaction when you tried to educate him on the drinks you made, only to not understand any of it. 

“Uh, o-oh, um...” He smiled at you fondly as you struggled to find something to say. 

“It’s fine if you don’t like me back, I mean-”

“I do!” You immediately covered your face with your hands, having practically screamed at him. You could feel your skin heating up, and you could think of nothing better than hiding away from him forever. 

Fingers wrapped around your wrists, and your hands were pulled away from your face, Iwaizumi leaning over the table with a lopsided smile. 

“Good.” He pulled one of your hands closer to his face, placing a lingering kiss over your fingers, before letting it go and doing the same with the other.

You were left utterly flustered as he carried on eating his cake like it was nothing, but you could definitely see the dusting of pink on his cheeks, causing your own embarrassment fade away. 

“Just a warning, shittykawa will try to come on dates with us, so be ready.” 

Oikawa was actually elated to hear that you two had somehow gotten together, mainly because it meant his best friend visited the shop whenever you were working, however, he wasn't as pleased when you both ignored him completely in favour of each other, leaving him to deal with the shop all by himself. 

You continued to teach your new boyfriend about all the different types of coffee he was missing out on, soon making your way through the entire menu. He had his favourites, but he always enjoyed whatever you made, purely because you made it - something that whenever he told you that, you would try and climb over the counter to hit him.

He was also prepared for you to try that, even when you were in tears, crying in happiness as he lowered himself onto once knee, the opening line of his proposal being;

“I like you a latte.” 

J: this was almost an Akaashi fic, but y’all already know that mans is cultured and don't need no one to teach him about coffee. 

[sagamemes]

critrole sentences starters  — 100 quotes from 100 episodes.   critrole just posted a list, so here’s about 100 lines of dialogue compiled, edited, and occasionally split into smaller pieces for roleplay purposes. topics and tone shift... wildly. and as usual, alter anything you want to make it fit your muse better.  tw:  murder, death, self-destructive intent.

❝  welcome to [place].  ❞

❝  is that a natural thing for you guys to just attack each other in moments of stress?  ❞

❝  i’ve never travelled with a bunch of people i thought would die in front of me!  ❞

❝  yeah. the world does need an asshole.  ❞

❝  tell you what. i start sweating real hard, i’ll let you know, okay?  ❞

❝  well, my social anxiety is getting the best of me. i’m taking a walk. goodbye.  ❞

❝  i think that the bust of a tiny, curly-headed 120-year-old woman needs to slam its way into the torso of that beast.  ❞

❝  what do they look like, these buttons?  ❞

❝  i don’t normally speak with the dead on a first date, but we’ll think about it.  ❞

❝  what if we kill all of them and come back and rob this place?  ❞

❝  i’m always ready to make a damn fool of myself.  ❞

❝  it’s a collection of crazy tales about this weird fella.  ❞

❝  i did my best. every town i went to and every town i left, no matter how they treated me, and a lot of them treated me with deep disrespect…  ❞

❝  i left every town better than i found it.  ❞

❝  i mean, i don’t want to impose… but i’m bleeding profusely.  ❞

❝  what happens if you have a childhood, but it’s like barely a childhood ‘cause it was supposed to be someone else’s childhood, but it was you instead?  is that a childhood?  ❞

❝  two shit throws in a row. it can’t get any fucking worse.  ❞

❝  i am your god. long may i reign. eat my fruit.  ❞

❝  code:  modern literature!  ❞

❝  welcome to the [group]!  ❞

❝  you’re very liberal with your parenting.  ❞

❝  one thing that i have realized today is that i need to work on my interpersonal skills and friendship making.  ❞

❝  try not to cut up my face, okay?  ❞

❝  i want to say thank you for the package you sent me. i know that it was really–  ❞

❝  you are blue.  ❞

❝  an example, it is.  ❞

❝  i’m trying to be nice. this is as painful for me as it is for you. just give me five seconds.  ❞

❝  i could check my smell bag, but i trust you right now.  ❞

❝  case closed.  ❞

❝  i think what his holiness is trying to convey is that he will be going on a spiritual journey, and there’s only room on that train for one dude!  ❞

❝  look to purchase, [name]!  just look!  ❞

❝  hello [title/nickname]. this is [name]. please respond.  ❞

❝  that sounds like someone whose ass i would like to kick.  ❞

❝  sometimes the things that are the most beautiful are the things that can hurt you the most.  ❞

❝  it’s actually /[title]/ [last name].  ❞

❝  this one time i saw a bug carrying a piece of bread that was like five times its size and he was carrying upstairs, like up and then he would turn, and then up, and then he would turn.  ❞

❝  fluffernutter!  ❞

❝  sleep well with your bad decisions.  ❞

❝  sometimes boys like it if you are a little bit aloof, a little bit cold to them afterwards, like maybe they did something wrong, and they don’t even know what it was.  ❞

❝  well, i would race to the...  ‘ apricot ’  and seize it so that she can’t pick that fruit. keep it for ourselves in our fruit basket, and make off and decide if we’re going to make marmalade later or not.  ❞

❝  i… wait.  ❞

❝  alright, let’s treat this situation with all the seriousness it demands  ❞

❝  i’m really really nice, but i don’t always make the best decisions…  ❞

❝  what, you don’t want a unicorn pooping on his face?  ❞

❝  yes. it’s a chair. it’s a standard chair.  ❞

❝  are you in love with me?  ...are you secretly in love with me?  ❞

❝  i win!  ❞

❝  why is just my dick purple?  ❞

❝  now, [name] is number two. you are number one. you are in charge. you just… dress to impress, okay?  ❞

❝  what happens when a moorbounder enters a feline beauty contest?  it’s a cat-tastrophe!  ❞

❝  you’re not my type.  ❞

❝  i am of the empire. but i am no friend to the empire.  ❞

❝  it’s still you though, right?  ❞

❝  you don’t get to talk anymore.  ❞

❝  it’s a regular fucking turtle.  ❞

❝  don’t let the irons be your strength.  ❞

❝  you pick and choose your fights.  ❞

❝  best not give in to a man i can crush with one hand.  ❞

❝  there’s a dick hidden somewhere in there.  ❞

❝  back up a little bit. so we met at like a circus. it was a crazy night. but after a while, yada yada–  ❞

❝  man, you made vulnerability look so easy.  ❞

❝  well, i’ve always learned that the best way to deal with your problems is to run away from them.  ❞

❝  and i know that you lost your family, but we can be your new one and we love you very much, [name], no matter what happened. okay?  ❞

❝  i guess in a way i’m an orphan maker.  ❞

❝  i’m sorry. i was trying to do the thing.  ❞

❝  i killed my family, i’’ll throw you under a bridge.  ❞

❝  i heard you.  ❞

❝  i don’t mean to raise my voice.  ❞

❝  this is precisely the sort of attitude i’ve been saying everyone should be having. this is what i’ve been waiting for. this is great.  ❞

❝  you need me more than i need you.  ❞

❝  you pooping?  ❞

❝  the rule is that evil dies.  ❞

❝  eventually, someday someone will pray for a miracle, pray for something to save them to whatever gods are nearby, and that prayer will be answered because you’ll show up.  ❞

❝  fucking seaweed wraps are the shit!  ❞

❝  oh shit, are we a cult?  ❞

❝  hey everybody, don’t mean to intrude. obviously, there’s a lot going on here, but we’re going to be sort of walking around for probably the next couple days and there’s some other people wandering through that are… they’re bad business. they’re probably going to do a lot of damage, possibly a fire, who knows?  but we’re trying to take care of that.  ❞

❝  we’d really appreciate a helping hand and we’ll try our best to stay out of everybody’s way.  ❞

❝  if there’s any birds—hey up there.  ❞

❝  if you’ve seen anything, we’d love to just get in and out with as little hassle as possible. thanks, that’d be great.  ❞

❝  you know, the concept of gravity was first discovered by a wizard known as iz-aak newton.  ❞

❝  but i would rather you put your faith in me for something more important than my curiosity.  ❞

❝  it’s better to have somebody’s word broken than to have no word at all.  ❞

❝  i pick and choose my apologies.  ❞

❝  we will trust you if you tell us who the members of the [name] are.  ❞

❝  i could be her beacon.  ❞

❝  yes, i think we have a job to finish.  ❞

❝ ��can i get a hug?  ❞

❝  it’s entirely off-putting how disarmingly charming you are.  ❞

❝  i genuinely do not know how to react. take that as a compliment.  ❞

❝  finish it, champion.  ❞

❝  kill me.  ❞

❝  i smell like a crayon.  ❞

❝  many fairy tales with an old crone in the woods.  ❞

❝  have you ever had a blueberry cupcake?  ❞

❝  stop—shut up, [name]!  god-fucking-alright.  ❞

❝  ignore the fucking undead, okay!  ❞

❝  nothing happens for a reason. it’s absolute fucking chaos.  ❞

❝  i’m asking you to open your heart to chaos  ❞

❝  you were not born with venom in your veins.  ❞

❝  please. please help me  ❞

❝  we’re being followed by a tiny island.  ❞

[cinnaminsvga]

Hug-o-gram Preview | Yoongi

→ summary:

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font. 

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious. 

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending “hugs” to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to *o*e him, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: anticipated 10-12K  → a/n: who the fuck am i... why am i writing so much??? let’s all thank miss kwaranteen for that, my friends. but what’s with the fluff, you ask? thank miss @jincherie​ for that because her weak heart can’t handle angst so i have to use my limited fluff muscles to write this for her... anyway idk when this is coming out but its probs soon,, enjoy this lil snippet i guess LMAO 

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbow. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

[oftenderweapons]

The Calm After the Storm - maknae line

Pairing: maknae line member x reader

Wordcount: 1.1-1.2k words each 

Genre: smut, fluff

Rating: 18+

Hello jell-o to everyone again! I usually try to publish by Sunday night but it’s exam season so I’m a bit busy with uni. Also, Jin’s part was super difficult to start but then boom, it turned out to be the longest, so every delay is due to that and I refuse to postpone again so I’m publishing it unedited. Might reread in a couple days and actually edit the post. Every piece is about 1100-1200 words (they’re getting longer and longer!)

The original theme for the week was going to be aftercare, but me being a chaotic mess made me go a little bit wilder than just aftercare. I tried to adjust every scenario to how each boy would approach intimacy with his partner, and how each couple would recover from different types and degrees of interaction, It also depends a lot on the kind of ideal girlfriend I imagine for each of the boys.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: ahem. It’s very descriptive, some parts more than others. So, let’s get this started. Oral sex galore (highly recommended if you’re a fan of being eaten out yay!) crude language, unprotected sex within a safe and established relationship (please be careful guys, use condoms and dental dams I can’t recommend it enough), voyeurism, overstimulation, biting, spanking, some bold PDA, cockwarming (you know who that is), sex toys (more specifically ben-wa balls), slight angst/insecurity/trauma due to toxic masculinity

Member disclaimers: Jimin is a brat and we all know it, can actually dom but need aftercare afterwards, I love him loads, he’s my squishy and I’m gonna protect him for life. Taehyung is an art freak and an overall freak whoa yeah, let’s move on (also, Where, When and How pt.2, The Return of The Sex Toys). JK goes from soft boy to hard dom to soft boy again in 0.2 seconds and I still don’t know why or how. He’s young and wants some fun and loves his girlfriend because she’ll always embrace his softer side and have fun with his naughtier/playful side. Enjoy!

Here you can find the hyung line

And here you can find my masterlist 

Jimin

“Who’s been a good girl?” He teased, the tip of his sex resting on your entrance.

“I have.” You beamed, satisfaction filling your voice as he smiled down at you, his spare hand gently reaching for your cheek, caressing your face and slipping his thumb in your mouth. 

“You have, my princess, indeed.” He pushed the tip inside. It was the loveliest shade of pink, pillowy and thick where it attached to the shaft. You knew it very well since you love looking at it and you were just done having it in you mouth for almost forty minutes. You had provoked him endlessly, keeping him on your tongue without moving, just the tip laying there, your lips wrapped delicately around it. No suction, no friction, just there. In the meantime his hand had started toying with the hem of your panties, finally moving them aside, letting one of his fingers rub on your skin. 

“Please, Jimin. I’ve been so good.” You dragged your vowels as you breathed out, getting adjusted to the feeling of him inside you. His size was all you needed, not too much and not too little. His dick was the most beautiful you had ever seen, the colour, the texture and the dimensions making it look so pretty you didn’t feel the usual embarrassment or fear that you usually felt while approaching your previous partners. 

“It’s all yours, love.” He said with a small grunt. He got relatively more quiet and whiny as he kept pushing in and out of you, staying close to you, the position so intimate you felt like he was becoming your whole world, his hips working their magic on you. 

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” He asked, his hips keeping up the pace.

“Yeah, so close.” You gritted out of your closed teeth.

“Good.” He moved his mouth to your chest, your left nipple engorged in his pretty pout. 

“A little faster, please.” You asked.

“Such nice manners. You aren’t giving me any reason to punish you, princess. Such a good girl.” He praised you again. 

This kind of role reversal didn’t happen very often, but sometimes Jimin liked taking care of you, reminding you that he is both your boy and your man. That he can be whatever you want him to be. He needs to feel like you could never do without him. You addressed this sense of inadequateness of his, every now and then, reassuring him and helping him state his own self and his needs. 

“Do you like it? That I’m doing exactly what you want me to?” You asked, but you both knew you were asking whether he felt like being harsher and punish you. 

“You like obeying me, pet?” He asked, his voice dripping in sugar as he pronounced your nickname.

“I love you, Jimin.” You said softly.

He almost mewled at that, reassured by how that sentence, that feeling meant that he was at your own level, how much of a praise it was to be your equal, to be strong enough to match you, to own you. 

“Are you close?” He asked, his thrusts becoming more intense. “I want to take you from behind but if you’re close I can keep going.”

“From behind, please.” You squealed, already eager to change position. 

He grinned and slipped out of you, the shift happening so quickly you felt a bit dizzy when you realised your face was pressed on the pillow, your ass up in the air as he entered you again. He started slamming into you his hands pressing your ass against his hips, the sound warning you that the whole attitude had changed too. 

“You like it like this, princess? You like getting it all dirty and rowdy?” He groaned, his voice anything but his usually loving and obedient self.

You emitted a muffled ‘yes’ as your hand reached your clit. 

“You touching yourself, ____?” He said, using one hand to turn your face towards him. “You better come quick or else you’ll have to lick me till I’m hard again. You’re not gonna cum without my cock inside you, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The title riled him up enough to get his pace a bit faster, sending you miles deep into pleasure.

His cry echoed yours, signaling his own orgasm. After taking a couple deep breaths he slipped out of you, removing the condom and getting rid of it quickly. He was in your arms again a couple seconds later, laying by your side, one leg entwined around yours, his arms hugging your middle, his head nuzzling in between your breasts. 

“You alright sweetie?” You asked. 

“I feel so good when I see you that happy. Fills me with joy.” He kissed your breastbone, then, as you lifted his chin with your forefinger, he pressed his lips to yours.

“Do you need anything? Some water? A snack? Shall we get in the shower?” You caressed his hair back, looking at how sweaty he was.

“A shower would be amazing. But I want you close.”

“Would you prefer a bath?” You kissed his forehead. He was all small smiles and fidgeting with your fingers. 

“Yes, please.”

“Such manners, always so perfect.” You almost snickered at the contrast between him right now and the man he’d been a few minutes ago. 

“Let’s go.” You said, sitting up before he got too tired to get out of bed. “You look amazing, babe.” You couldn’t help but comment, looking at him sprawled on the covers. 

He smiled, his pupils disappearing behind his crinkled lids, then he stood up, thinking whether he should wear something or not and feeling insecure for a second, but then following your cue he decided to stay naked. 

As you slipped into the tub you let him slide in with his back against your chest, hugging him to you, your nose nuzzling the top of his head. “Is it to your taste?” 

“Yes, thank you babe.” He replied. “I really like your bath soap.” He yawned, smiling some more as you caught him. He looked ten times lovelier right now. You felt that fuzzy feeling in your stomach intensifying, and you began rubbing the tense muscles on his back out of fondness and gratitude. “That's truly amazing.”

“You are truly amazing.” You kissed his nape and continued with your caregiving, washing his hair, rinsing him, helping him out of the shower, drying him and applying some lotion over his skin, smiling at him with your eyes through the reflection on the mirror as you brushed your teeth while sharing the sink. 

“I love you,” you whispered in his ear as you hugged him under the sheets. 

“I love you, too.” That’s bliss. 

Taehyung

“Don’t you dare move, you little demon.” 

With a forceful hammering of his hips against your bottom, Taehyung slammed into you at an impossible pace, finally snapping forward as he lost his regular rhythm and bent down, his head propped on the back of your neck, his breath fanning out along your spine before he grunted the manliest sound you had ever heard. 

You were shocked: laying there, ass up, your boyfriend collapsed on top of you with his exceedingly long dick planted inside you, its girth becoming slightly less bearable as the high of your climax ebbed away. 

“Tae, it’s so good.” You moaned. “Too much.”

“Stay put, love.” He helped you lay down, without any intention of parting from you. 

“We can’t stay like this forever.”

“Watch me.” He replied cockily. 

The whole night had been wildly unusual. It had all started in the afternoon. You had been to an art gallery where the whole exhibition verted on photographs of naked bodies painted into art. He had held you tight, his hand gripping your waist, his thumb fooling around the hem of your jeans, tentatively trying to slither under the fabric. He had asked you about your favourite, pointing out pieces he was very enthusiastic about. You had looked at him baffled as he pointed out the picture of a woman with two big breasts and a Virgin Mary painted on her belly, the model’s pubic hair painted a strange rainbow mesh of colours as if simulating a cloud from which the painting was emerging. 

You had been slightly uncomfortable standing before it, but the rest of it hadn’t been that extreme. Well, except for another couple pictures.

One had also attracted your attention. In the back of the gallery one very explicit picture had sparked something between the two of you. As you walked in you thought it was just an empty room but as you turned around you saw a giant poster of a vagina, every detail so precise that you asked yourself what kind of lens and camera could take a picture with such impressive high quality. On the women's thighs seven lines of paint mimicked two branches of a rainbow leading to the model’s inner labia, while a sun — or a halo — surrounded the clit. The poster occupied the whole wall, at least three metres tall and five metres wide. 

You were standing in the middle of the room, taking in every detail, seriously impressed by the piece. You were as tall as her slit, for God's sake… 

"It looks like you really like this one." Taehyung said, hugging you from behind, his nose toying with your earlobe. His voice made your insides tremble. 

"I really get it." Taehyung said. "I would do that too." Silence stretched as he got caught in his thoughts and fantasies. "Your pussy's so good I would take an absurdly high quality picture of it and have it printed as if it were wallpaper and installed in a private room in my apartment and simply sneak in sometimes and stand in front of it and just admire it." 

You kept looking ahead, too caught by the luscious way his hips pressed against the small of your back. "Your cunt is art, babe." He whispered and pressed some more into you. "Literally paradise. I'd lick it for days and fuck it till I can't even get hard anymore." 

You tried to get your mouth to salivate again. He was playing it dirty. And the fact that you had to go back home and get ready for a nice dinner together and a night at the club with Jimin and his girlfriend made you even more tense. You knew you would have to wait for some relief. 

As you reached your apartment Taehyung decided to pick your clothes and have you get ready right in front on him. He settled on the bed, sitting, as you rolled on your stockings and wore a suspender belt that matched your underwear. Slowly you let your deep green silk slip-on dress roll down your body, and you felt his hands stretch towards you, grabbing you by the waist. You stood at the edge of the bed, his chin propped on your belly. "My dove, I have a question for you."

"Yes," you replied, your hands pushing his hair back. 

He showed you a blue velvet pouch and you smirked. "Do you want to?" 

"You wanna help me wear them?" He nodded. 

And that's how you found yourself grinding on him desperately in the club after he had fed you chocolate-covered strawberries for dessert. Not that you complained about that. But the Ben-Wa balls heavily rolling and rubbing against your g-spot were making it difficult for you to fully enjoy your night out. Especially since every time you closed your eyes you saw Taehyung's lips wrapping around them and lubricating them before he helped you insert them. 

It didn't take long for the two of you to get too desperate to care about decency, but since you needed to think about Taehyung's reputation you decided to call it a night and feign tiredness in front of Jimin's eyes — who called both of you out on your state of arousal and blessed your intentions for the rest of the night, letting you go home without making too much of a fuss. 

When you arrived at the apartment you were both too impatient to reach the bedroom and used the sofa to dull the edges of your needs, Taehyung staring at you wide eyed, kneeling on the floor between your legs while you rubbed yourself passionately. As you reached your first high he dove in between your thighs, his mouth landing on your clit, sucking on it devotedly, eyes fixed on yours. Overstimulation hit you hard, the geisha balls still moving inside you. He made you cum again with his tongue lapping and lashing at your wetness. 

He carried you to the bedroom in silence, his gaze dark and desperate, completely oblivious to the way his long and heavy sex strained against his linen slacks. Laying back, you let him tower over you, teasing the underside of his erection as he took off your dress definitively. "You're so beautiful." You whispered religiously. 

"Are you talking to me or my cock?" 

You chuckled lightly. "Mostly to you." 

"Mostly…" He mused. 

He pressed his hand to your belly, removing the silver spheres from inside you. 

"Mostly, uh?" With that he entered you violently, thrusting in with one smooth, powerful stroke. 

"Tae—" You whined. He kept doing you like that, with evenly paced, blunt thrusts. However, since you kept teasing him with the firm squeezing of your inner walls encouraged by your own fingers brushing your clit, he pulled out of you, flipping you around and pushing your backside up, entering you once more. It didn't take long for him to get lost in his own rhythm, for his hand to come up to your tender spot and rub you until your legs gave out. 

And now heavy with the sleepiness of bliss, you questioned whether your boyfriend was intending to get out of you. "Tae, baby, we should get cleaned."

"Let me stay inside, love. Please. I feel like I'll want to go at it again in a while, just let me stay in." He muttered, his hands pressing against your hips to keep you close. 

"You sure you don't need anything?" You asked again, knowing how needy he could get when he gets sleepy. 

"Just you pressed up and around me. This is heaven." 

A small laugh. How could you deny him? 

Jungkook

You had loved every second of it. The gentle way he had kissed you on the sofa, and how he had carried you to bed. How delicately he had touched you and held you, how he had made love to you. It had all been amazing. Until the initial feelings of fondness and devotion gave way to a hunger deeper and more desperate. Then he had pushed you around, sitting himself up on the balls of his feet, dragging you up with him in the process. You could still feel the echo of the beastly groan he had emitted against your ear as he let your back slide down his chest, his sex entering you and reaching so deep inside you. Your head had rolled back against his shoulder as one of his hands grabbed your breast and played with your nipple. 

“You like it, don’t you? You like me so deep inside you.” He had stated, his tone so arrogant. “No wonder you can never get enough of me.” He picked you up by the waist, using you as if you were nothing but a cocksleeve, dragging you up and down his dick. “That’s it. That’s what you like. Being a lazy princess and making me do all the work. You love it when I force you a little, don’t you.” He dropped you down with exceptional violence, moving one hand to squeeze your breast, the other angling your face towards him. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” You replied, almost unconsciously. You were willing to do whatever could please him, make him start again. 

“Yes what?” He grabbed your other breast, his hand heavy and possessive. 

“Yes, I adore when you use me.”

“That’s my little toy. So mature and composed, but so dirty. You love that I get all those naughty things you like.” The way he propped his hands behind his back and leaned on them shifted the angle once more, his hips snapping back and forth with a mind shattering intensity. 

“Come on. Get it how you like it.” He freed one of his hands to slap your ass. It didn’t take that long for the both of you to orgasm, especially after he moved the hand on your chest upwards, his fingers merely resting around your neck, without even needing to hold it, while his other hand worked your clit matching the rhythm of the contractions of your insides. 

He clinged to you almost desperately when his high subsided, his hold almost too tight. You were trying to compensate for the lack of contact during the latest round, your hands struggling to find any part of him that you could hold, until your fingers intertwined with his over your left breast. 

“I thought I would lose you during the last month. I was never home.” You understood his insecurities. You also thought he would find someone more suitable to his career, someone who could understand what it means to belong to that world. 

“I thought anyone could make you see how much of a shitty boyfriend I am.”

You let him continue. 

“I thought you would meet a smart university kid at campus, or that cute barista at the coffee shop at the end of the street. I thought of how they would court you, all the attentions, the pretty dates, the small gifts. I thought of them taking you out for dinner, of them taking you home. Trying to kiss you. Sometimes, late at night, I asked myself if you would invite them upstairs. It always got me so fucking mad. Once I almost hit my personal trainer because I was thinking of that. He got mad, told me to keep my head in the game.” He was still inside you, you could feel his shaft throbbing softly, as if it was his heartbeat. Maybe it was just an impression. His head fell to your shoulder. 

“I would never, and you know it.”

“I know, but some part of me can’t help but go there. If you could only see the way men look at you when you’re not watching. And our relationship being private only means that they don't know that you’re taken. Makes them think that they’re allowed to look at you like that. I feel so hopeless whenever they act all bold. I can’t be like that. I can’t give you the time and attentions they can give you. Because of who I am, because of me being so fucking shy...”

“I love you.” You said, as if it were a magic spell that could fix all his insecurities. You turned your head to look at him. “And right now you’re inside me. You’ve made me cum twice tonight, with nothing but your body, the way you moved on top of me, behind me, inside me.” He blushed a bit at that. 

You loved talking with him after sex. It was so common for the two of you. Sex was like a key to open a secret place of vulnerability and intimacy. All the confessions Jungkook had offered you in bed, laying close to you, protected by you, had very often come in the aftermath of bliss. “I am with you,” you continued, leading him to lay on your side. 

“I wanna stay inside you, but I also want to face you, look you in the eye.”

“Same here.” You needed to see his face. 

“And I also need a snack.” He considered. He took a long pause. You waited for him to formulate his thought. “If you ever realised you’re no longer happy with me, you would tell me, right?”

“Of course I would tell you. However, I think you should know I don’t think that could happen in this life or in any on the next ones.”

He giggled. “I can’t wait to get you away from anyone. We should do like Namjoon hyung and his girlfriend: get on a private island for vacation. Wear nothing all day. Stay in bed for how long we want. Swim when we want. Make love under the stars. God, that’s heaven.”

“You would miss the guys, you know it.” You smiled knowingly.

“Just a week or so. A quick getaway.” Some part of his mind was already plotting. 

“I’ll see what I can do. But would you resist without working out?”

“We could workout together,” he mused naively. 

“Yeah, yeah...” you conceded, voice dripping in irony. 

“Can I carry you to the kitchen to grab a snack?”

“Maybe if you turned me around and I held on you like a koala bear?” You chuckled

“Do you think that if I lay on my back and you sit up and turn around I can get you to climb me like a koala-bear without me having to get out of you?” He asked, the honesty in his voice getting you to fully laugh out loud. 

“I think that’s called corkscrew — it’s a corkscrew if you turn around me… whatever” You thought out loud.

“Let’s try! Ready? Three, two, one, Go!” You both laughed at your attempt, joy filling your hearts.

—————the following morning —————

“So, uhm...”

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

“Please.”

“Guk, listen, I love you, but you’re not dragging me to the gym at eight a.m. on a Sunday morning after what we did last night.”

“But I love you. Like, a lot.”

“No amount of love will ever fix the organs you so thoroughly rearranged last night.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked like a scolded puppy. “But it’s not like you didn’t like it. You actually begged for it at some point.”

“So rude of you to remind me of that.”

“Sorry. I love you.” He kissed the tip of your nose. 

“I love you too. Now go back to sleep.”

“Okay.” He palmed your chest lovingly and closed his eyes again. 

[blankblankityblank]

Just, don’t wake up

Hi everyone! This is my fic for the @starkerkink exchange, dedicated to @vaguekiwi! I really hope you enjoy it :)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Tony Stark

High school AU, with superpowers.

Tony’s home life has never been amazing, but one night, it’s just too much for him. He flies blindly to the first destination he can think of in his battered suit, holding his breath when he realises exactly who’s house he’s flown to. He doubts this evening will be normal, especially when he realises there’s only one bed.

Warnings: Masturbation, Flogging, Name-calling, Restraints, slightly dub-con, both 17. Check ao3 for further warnings!

Read on ao3!

Tony arrived late to class, as usual. Peter sighed, the usual thought flitting through his head: How does he always manage to arrive late, even with a full body suit that flies?

The teacher for their class, AP Bio, glanced at Tony unimpressed but unsurprised-this was a regular occurrence, and it showed.

Tony waltzed to his seat with the usual I-really-don’t-give-a-shit attitude, plonking down and prompt executing a yawn. Peter rolled his eyes; did he always have that look on his hot face? How did he even get into AP Bio when he didn’t even pay attention? Oh yeah, that’s right-Howard Stark’s son, prodigy at 4, bla bla bla. Peter needed a break from the constant ‘Tony Stark made his own suit’ fawning that half the girls, and guys, constantly exhibited. Like yeah, big deal-was anyone gonna talk about Peter’s amazing skills to do with web fluid? Or crafting his own suits, which, well, didn’t always go particularly well?

“And today, we will be taking a bit of an off-topic turn into some neurobiology! Chemicals and hormones produced by the brain!” The teacher sang, trying to mask her own boredom with the unresponsive class, “who can tell me what the four main hormones to do with happiness contain?”

Peter shot his hand up, excited that he for once knew the answer to the question before smart-ass Tony.

“The four main chemicals are endorphins, dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin, often abbreviated as D.O.S.E,” Peter stated. Tony slowly turned around in his chair, and glared at him. Peter just smirked. ‘One day,’ he mouthed at the growingly frustrated classmate.

“Very good! Can someone tell me what each of these hormones’ functions are?” Their teacher again asked. Peter’s hand shot up for the second time, his mouth forming a smirk in sync.

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

“Well well well, if it isn’t smart-ass Parker in a sticky situation?” Tony purred, his smooth voice richoeing off of the poorly-designed science lab. Peter sighed, closing his eyes in preparation before facing the problem.

“Does it look like I don’t know what I’m doing? Wouldn’t wanna steal your thunder now, would I?” He snarked back, trying to stir his web fluid in peace. The teacher had allowed his class 15 minutes of time to work on their various powers, any tweaks or fixes being attended to. Tony had apparently finished oiling up his suit, but Peter had no such privilege.

Tony flicked the back of Peter’s head as he strutted away, going over to talk to Steve and Bucky. Goddamned overpowered mutants. Ok, so maybe Peter was a tiny bit jealous of their friendship, but that was his business.

He dispensed the web fluid with a sigh, getting ready to pack up and head back to his apartment, and hopefully blow off some steam with a Star Wars movie night. He smiled softly to himself; maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad after all. He could chill with may, have some hot chocolate, quote every line of Empire Strikes Back because he totally doesn’t know it word for word.

The bell rang, immediately followed by a cacophony of bags zipping, several whirring sounds as various students fired up their ride home. Peter ducked his head down, knowing his power wasn’t as rich or powerful as his classmates’ privileged ones. And they didn’t even know it, how lucky they were. They’d never know what it’s like to be born with stickiness and a general strength upgrade. No super-advanced knowledge of tech, engineering, how to fly, being able to fly...everything that separated him from the rest of his peers.

Peter swung his backpack over his shoulder, cursing as his AP Bio textbook dropped onto the ground, setting off a too-loud thump on the concrete floor. A few heads swivelled in his direction, and Peter flushed as he hurriedly picked the offending book up, and returned it to its rightful place. Face still hot, he all but rushed out of the classroom, eager to change into his suit and get this day over with.

“Hey! Parker! Wait up, for fuck’s sake. You dropped two books, not one, you blind-ass bat,” Tony hollered, his feet slapping against the linoleum. Peter grabbed the exercise book from Tony’s offering hand, not dignifying the teen with a response. Ok, so maybe it was a bit harsh. But he had to stay ice-cold around Tony; if it got out Parker had a crush, it would not go down well. At. All.

“You’re not even gonna say thanks?” Tony spluttered in disbelief, hand still outstretched.

“Nope,” Peter replied, popping the ‘p’.

“Pretty sure I deserve some recognition, I could have just left that book on the floor for some other snotty-nosed kid to find,” Tony said indignantly, hand returned to his side.

“Well then don’t do it next time. I don’t give a shit, Stark,” Peter fired back, attempting to quell his progressingly noticeable butterflies.

Tony opened his mouth in a retort, but instead opted for an eye roll and spun on his heel. Probably to get back to his fancy 5 star penthouse, Peter thought bitterly. He headed to the bathrooms, diligently fighting his instinct to catch a glance of that ass. God, he was so, so gone.

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

Peter entered his apartment silently, not wanting to disturb May. He kicked off his shoes, deflating his suit and carrying the rest of his belongings to his room. Or, his cave, as May liked to call it. The 16 year old dungeon was another favourite of hers.

“May? ‘M home..” He trailed off when the bright Post-it note caught his eye. He frowned, peeling it off the bench and reading the bubbly handwriting. ‘Picked up an extra shift, be home tomorrow at 7! Sorry I couldn’t make it tonight kiddo xx’ Well. He could kiss his plans of venting to may goodbye, it seemed. Hot chocolate and a movie night still lifted his hopes, albeit less enthusiastic with no one to share it with now. The teen hummed the Star Wars theme song as he boiled the water and got his hot chocolate ready. He finished his task from earlier, dumping his stuff in an impossibly messy room that cleaning seemed impossible. There were things he didn’t want to uncover by doing so.

The TV flickered to life, selecting the chosen movie as directed by Peter. He sipped on his hot chocolate, swearing softly when the liquid burnt his tongue. It’d probably need to cool, considering the loss of feeling in his taste buds. The TV screen suddenly paused the movie, indicating the buffering icon as the infuriatingly slow loading bar popped up.

“For fucks’ sake…” Peter muttered, deciding to take a quick shower to pass the time. He didn’t bother getting clothes, seeing as he was the only one home. He padded to the bathroom, turning the shower on and watching as the water slowly began to produce steam. He then stripped, chucking his clothes into the overflowing hamper and stepping into the soothing water. He let it wash over him, adjusting himself to the temperature as he scrubbed himself with vanilla soap, the day’s events flicking hazily through his mind.

The teen looked down, noticing his growing hard-on. Maybe his thoughts about Tony had taken a...darker turn. He palmed himself half-heartedly, almost jolting when the spark of arousal ran through his body. He groaned softly to himself, putting more energy into pumping his hard on. His precum provided lubricant, his hand going up and down faster and faster until he was right on the edge and it felt so good, and-

Peter pulled his hand off, letting his erect cock bob helplessly in the air. He was breathing hard, not having reached his orgasm. It just...it didn’t feel right. He rubbed soap on his body again, his dick slowly returning to it’s normal size.

The shower came to a close after 15 minutes of staring at the wall, he may or may not have been thinking about a certain black head of hair, brown eyes flecked with gold, the body of a Greek god...maybe he lost track of time, but it was time well spent in Peter’s opinion. He towelled himself off with less energy, suddenly losing the motivation to actually dry himself off-probably because all his brain power was used trying to figure out a certain someone’s personality.

He plopped onto his nest of blankets and pillows, smiling when he saw the movie was ready to watch again. He hit play, content with the world at last.

That is, until some fucking idiot banged, not knocked, banged, on Peter’s door. He resolutely ignored it, turning the volume of the TV to max. Until, the banging didn’t stop. It just kept going. And going. And going-

“This better be a real good fucking reason,” Peter snarled, pausing his movie with more force than he probably needed to, and he stomped to the door.

The assault on the door didn’t stop, even when Peter yelled ‘Coming!’ to try and ease the banging. It did not succeed. He swung open the door, fuming, the epitome of annoyance as expressed on his face. He was ready to give this newcomer a piece of his mind, what, interrupting his fucking movie night, the audacity-

The words died in his throat as he looked up to launch a deadly glare, only to be met with chocolate brown eyes, flecked with gold, a soft pink cupid’s bow, the presence of stubble beginning to form a goatee, and oh wait, he’s seen this before, wait a minute-

“Tony?” He spluttered, taking a step back as he took in the scene before him. Tony, in a banged up suit he probably used as his transportation, his hand poised to bang at the door again. Tony’s expression mirrored Peter’s, a mixture of shock and confusion. Unlike Peter’s, Tony’s cleared quickly, and formed a new expression-one of almost desperation.

“Look, Parker, I’m sorry alright? I just...I need somewhere to stay tonight,” he rubbed a hand over his face, “forget it. I knew it was stupid to come, sorry for wasting your time I guess,” he muttered, already pivoting on his heel. Without his conscious consent, Peter grabbed Tony’s arm as he turned away. They both froze, neither knowing what Peter did.

“Wait, I...you can stay, Tony. You can come in, I just was watching Empire Strikes Back,” Peter ranted, gently tugging Tony inside. The latter seemed to be in a state of shock, obviously not expecting the positive response.

“Empire Strikes Back? You would be watching that, of all movies,” Tony snarked, recovering quickly from his bout of shock.

“You’re the guest, at least try to be nice,” Peter countered, blushing at the tips of his ears from embarrassment. He huffed, flopping onto his comfortable collection of pillows. He raised an eyebrow meaningfully at Tony, who looked a little out of place with his scratched suit. Peter was curious, but didn’t pry-there was obviously something that caused Tony to come in so suddenly.

“Being nice? To Parker? Talk to me when you have an achievable goal,” Tony grumbled, walking around to tour Peter’s apartment. Peter hoped it would be up to his standards. Wait, no he didn’t, Tony’s standards didn’t matter to him. At all.

Peter resumed his movie, soon becoming engrossed in the iconic plotline that he’d seen hundreds of times before, yet it never failed to make him excited. Tony watched his classmate from the shadows, the smile on Peter’s face contagious. His auburn curls, sharp jawline...Picture perfect Tony mused, as the lights from the movie danced across Peter’s angelic features. Tony shook his head, afraid of getting caught in the act-someone that beautiful would never return his feelings.

The depressing thought prompted Tony to emerge from the shadows, gliding over to where Peter was laying down and slumped nearby, resigning himself to the fact he’d have to watch this nerd movie. His suit whirred in the corner, fixing its own malfunctions as Tony had programmed it to.

“I don’t even know what the fuck is going on, Parker,” Tony muttered, the movie’s plot confusing him due to the lack of knowledge in previous films.

Peter just smiled, deciding it would take too long to explain the plot. Tony saw this, and a small smile spread across his face, too. It was nice to have a friend that just accepted you into their home, even if you had no explanation. Well, he couldn’t really tell the boy his explanation. Home was...a bit hard to go to at the moment, not that he’d ever tell Parker. He glanced at the serene expression on Peter’s face again, taking in the pure joy as he watched his seemingly favourite movie. Yeah, he was not gonna spoil that expression. Not ever.

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

The movie’s credits rolled, signifying the end of the movie night. Tony softly blew out through his nose, wondering if it would be overstepping to stay the night. Before he could dig a hole of despair within himself, Peter noticed his obvious inner battle. Deciding to put the rivalry behind him for now, he reached out to Tony, gently touching his arm and effectively grabbing his attention.

“We should head to bed...if you’re ok with that,” Peter murmured, gently tugging Tony’s arm as he stood up.

Tony sucked in a breath at sparks of pleasure that rippled through him as Peter’s hand lingered. He got to his feet, following Peter through the apartment, taking in the few decorations and pictures. He paused at an old picture of an obviously much younger picture of Peter, sitting on a man’s shoulders. He looked so...well, happy. Tony frowned; what had happened? Not wanting to intrude, he tucked the question away for later, and hurried to catch up with Peter.

“So, this is it. The humble abode, I guess,” Peter chuckled nervously, giving a dramatic wave with his hands. Tony looked around, taking in the worn twin bed, well-read books mounted on shelves that looked as if they could fall at any minute, the stained dresser, obviously the victim of many late-night hot chocolate spills. Tony could feel a slight smile tugging at his lips-this felt like Peter.

“Humble, huh. Didn’t know you were a Potter fan,” Tony smirked, gesturing at the aforementioned books. A red blush tinted the teen’s cheeks as he rushed to defend himself.

“I’ll have you know Harry Potter is a very famous series, thank you very much,” he huffed, crossing his arms. The following silence was comfortable, Peter rifling through his dresser as he looked for his pyjamas. He succeeded, muttering a soft ‘aha’ at the victory, and turned to head to the bathroom.

“Get yourself comfy, you can sleep wherever, couch or bed,” Peter stated, trying not to blush for a third time in an hour. He made quick work of changing, exiting the bathroom once he was satisfied with his appearance. A new toothbrush smacked Tony in the back of the head, credits of Peter.

“The fuck, Parker? Why couldn’t you just ask me to turn around,” Tony muttered, grabbing the toothbrush and making his way to the meager bathroom. He cleaned his teeth, checked his face for any signs of, well, outstanding blemishes, and once satisfied, returned to the bedroom. Peter was already in the bed, having turned off the lights and receiving a wave of sleepiness that he couldn’t refuse.

Tony hesitated before quietly sliding in beside Peter, careful not to touch him in hopes of keeping him comfortable. After all, this was Peter’s bed. He shifted, finding the proximity a little too...exciting.

Peter stirred, muttering something incomprohensive that sounded suspiciously like ‘Stop fucking moving,’ which Tony grudgingly obeyed. He found himself drifting sooner than he usually did; maybe it was the company that finally got his eyes to close, who knows. It just felt good to be cared about.

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

“Fuck, harder Tony,” Peter cried out, relishing the feeling of the flogger on his burnt ass, “please. Please Tony, ah!”

Tony whipped mercilessly, painting the teen’s ass and lower back a pretty scarlet colour. He knew Peter loved it, despite the whimpers of pain as he relentlessly assaulted his body, again and again.

“Little slut, begging for me to stop like a good little bitch. Ask me nicely, I might consider,” Tony snarled, drinking in the moans that came tumbling out of Peter’s mouth at the sentence.

“P-please, I promise I’ll be your good little cockslut, please just let me go,” Peter repeated, rolling his eyes back from pleasure. His cock twitched at the constant stimulation, begging for touch, but Peter couldn’t move, the restraints preventing him from relief.

Tony growled, pausing the flogging at 15 hits. “You better live up to that, whore,” he snarled, taking in the sight before him. Peter, bound to the bed face-down, bent over the back, ass on display. His petite frame quivered in anticipation, preparing for more of the flogging.

“Yes, Tony, I promise I’ll be good, no more,” Peter begged, too aroused to care how desperate he might sound. He jerked his hips forward, trying and failing miserably to acquire friction for his painfully hard dick.

Tony untied the restraints slowly, careful not to hurt his lover any more, now that the scene was over. Peter sobbed, reaching down almost immediately to try and relieve his aching cock. Tony slapped Peter’s hand away, taking the matters into his own hands.

“Such a naughty boy, trying to touch yourself without permission. What do we say?” Tony crooned, teasing Peter’s tip. The latter cried out, grinding against Tony’s hand in hopes of release.

“‘M sorry, so sorry, please, please let me-ah!” Peter abruptly cut off his rambling as Tony took him in hand, stroking along his length tantalisingly. Peter sobbed, crying out as the feeling grew. He centered in on the sensation Tony was giving him, pumping his dick with such earnest it was almost too much, the heat building in his lower abdomen, ready to burst-

Peter woke up with a start, acutely aware of his burning arousal. Oh. Oh shit. He just had one of those dreams...about Tony. Who was right next to him. Peter sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide. He calculated his options, quickly realising he couldn’t move without waking him up.

He cursed the lack of space in the bed, horror taking over as his arousal became too prominent to ignore. He whined softly into his pillow, at loss with how to deal with the predicament. How did things go so badly wrong so soon?

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Tony elicited a groan in the silence of the room and shifted to that his hip was pressed against Peter’s...problem. He unconsciously bucked into the stimulation, immediately regretting the action as Tony groaned again and moved, if possible, closer to his dick. Well, wasn’t this just amazing.

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

Tony awoke from his sweet abyss of darkness, groaning in annoyance. What had woken him up? He thought he’d heard a whimper, but that couldn’t be right. He shuffled closer to his warm pillow, which promptly moved back against him. Tony froze; pillows weren’t supposed to move. Pillows...also didn’t have a bulge. He recovered quickly, a smirk slowly growing when he realised what had happened here. Parker was hard. So, so hard.

Tony groaned again, this time intentionally shifting against Peter’s bulge to try and gauge how exactly this was going to play out. He was met almost immediately with a response as Peter grinded against him. Tony stifled a moan; it was insanely hot, how responsive Peter was. He was obviously trying to hold back, covering his mouth as he desperately sought relief against Tony. The latter helpfully shifted again, receiving a small squeak in response. Peter’s hand snaked down to his cock, unable to hold back anymore. Tony closed his eyes, savouring this moment-possibly the only time he’d get to be this intimate with his crush, even if he was ‘asleep’.

Peter palmed against his sweats, the pleasure making his breathing uneven as he neared his climax. He felt so bad for doing this with Tony in the same bed, but he was past the point of being able to control his movements. The pressure built up inside him like a spring coiled at it’s base, as he desperately rutted against his hand, when it all became too much-and Peter went rigid. The white-hot pleasure consumed his body, racking through him in wave after wave as he tried to silently ride out his orgasm. The spurts of come soaked his boxers, but Peter was too out of his mind to care as the high slowly came down. His breathing was hard and his sweats were cold and sticky, but the aftershocks of the orgasm jerked his softening cock.

The world slowly came back to him as Peter blinked a couple times, trying to orient himself. The first thing he thought was oh shit, now I’ll have to lie in this mess until Tony wakes up.

That is, until he realised a tiny detail. Tony’s back and hip was completely covered. In. Peter’s. Cum.

Peter looked up slowly, the horror beginning to consume him. His entire body froze when Tony looked right back at him.

[putas-in-suffering]

Business Transaction

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Escort!Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, Miguel being a dick (we love to see it)

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Part 1. Supply and demand. You supply. Miguel demands.

A/N: Cartel Daddy is up next! He’s his best asshole, rich, daddy self in this one so proceed with caution. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

**We added a Part 2! Read it here.

“Fuck…”

The front door banged open, slamming harshly against the wall as you crashed through. Neither one of you showed concern for the possible damage. You were too wrapped up in each other to take notice of anything else. That’s how it had been all evening. And now that tension was finally breaking free and spilling over.

Your curse fell on deaf ears as Miguel’s hands lifted you easily off the ground, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. His mouth attacked your neck with a ferocity, his lips and teeth clashing. You threaded your fingers through his thick hair and tugged at the roots, enjoying the immediate growl that reverberated against your flesh. You jerked when you felt the cool marble of the kitchen counter suddenly beneath you. You’d been so lost in the sensations that you hadn’t realized that he’d walked you both into the kitchen, his intent clear.

Your mouths united once again as you settled onto the counter, the smooth surface cooling your overheated skin. Your dress was hiked up, the scrap of lace at the juncture of your thighs visible. You used your legs to pull Miguel’s body closer to you, seeking out the friction your lower body so desperately needed.

“Miguel…” You moaned, arching into him when his hand engulfed your breast. He moved with purpose, bypassing any formalities. You both were more than ready to use the other, needing to satiate that primal hunger that had held you captive all night.

“Panties off.” He ordered gruffly, stepping away from you. His hands went to the belt of his black slacks, his fingers undoing the claps and buttons quickly. You followed his demand, shifting your dress up higher on your hips and lifting your ass off the counter to remove your underwear. You barely had time to get them fully down your legs, the fabric getting caught on your heel before Miguel was on you once again.

Your bodies crashed together, your movements frenzied and impatient. Frantic breaths filled the air as you both readied to accept the other. You widened your legs while he grasped his length and aligned himself with your opening. Your nails dug into the fabric of his suit jacket, but he could still feel the sting of pain. He bit at your neck in retaliation.

He didn’t check to ensure you were prepared for him. He didn’t ask for permission or if you were ready. He said nothing. He only thrust…hard and deep. You whimpered at the brutality of it. Your body had been begging for it, yet you could feel the instinctual need to back away from the primal intensity. It was almost too much. It was like this every time. A raging storm of pleasure and pain that held you captive.

He was fully sheathed inside of you in an instant, the lubrication of your walls easing the intrusion only somewhat. He was generously sized and your body should’ve been prepped, but neither of you cared to do so. There was no care or concern involved in this coupling. It was raw; both of you damn near feral with desire.

“Oh god…shit…” You moaned as he pulled his hips back and then led his cock into you once again. His pace was slow, but measured, his grip on your ass the only thing keeping you from falling off the counter. His mouth roamed the expanse of your cleavage, his facial hair leaving a burn of irritation in its wake. You threaded your hands through his hair, pulling at the roots with a force that should’ve hurt but you knew only added to the carnal fire that raged around you.

Miguel grunted with every thrust, his movements now aided by the copious amounts of moisture that collected between the two of you. You forced your eyes open when you felt his intense gaze on you. He was watching you intently, his face almost contorted into a snarl as he fucked up into you. You winced at the force behind his hips and you swore you saw a corner of his mouth lift in satisfaction. The coil in your stomach began to unwind, but it refused to fully release. You were stuck between prolonging the push and pull of two twisted souls or succumbing to the addicting sensation of falling headlong into euphoria.

The latter won out.

You moved your hand to where your bodies were joined, aiming for you clit, but a rough hand stopped you. Miguel shoved your hand away, almost insulted by your decision. Instead, he stopped thrusting and placed a hand on your lower stomach, easing you back. You watched in rapt fascination as he spit, his saliva landing exactly on the place you’d been seeking. Yours eyes rolled, your entire body ready to catapult itself into space just on that action alone.

“Fuuuuck…” You whimpered when his finger assaulted the appendage, his hips picking up their brutal rhythm. Your arms were failing to support you so you laid back, spine unwilling to straighten as you were fucked into oblivion.

Your hands sought out your breasts, pulling the neckline of your dress down so that you could pay them proper attention. Your tugged at your nipples and yelped when a slap to your swollen pussy landed on your oversensitive flesh, your entire body jerking in response.

“Shit…do that again.” Miguel grunted between clenched teeth.

You knew what he meant. You’d felt it too. Your walls had clamped down on him, forcing his cock to twitch while buried to the hilt inside you. Your toes curled as you obeyed his request and felt him jerk again, the end for you both near. His hips worked fast this time, his cock barely leaving you before it was returning. The sound of flesh slapping off each other echoed throughout the massive space, your moans getting louder as your orgasm built.

“Yes, yes…right there…” You urged as the familiar wisps of climax started to pull you under. You bucked in response to his punishing pace, your limbs starting to tense as that coil finally snapped. You could only gasp, no other sounds formulating in your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut until lights danced behind them, the feel of Miguel’s throbbing cock prolonging your pleasure.

“Fuck, yeah…like that.” He encouraged, his pelvis plastering to yours as he released inside of your quaking channel. His fingers dug into your hips, his cum filling you to capacity. You tremored with aftershocks as he continued to pump, his speed significantly slower.

He only took a moment to catch his breath before he was entangling himself from you. You could feel him slip from your clutches, albeit sluggishly. You were both drained of energy, your heaving chests trying to fill your lungs back up with air. Your skin stuck to the still cold counter beneath you, the feeling now making you shiver. The jingling of a belt buckle prompted you to sit up, careful of the mess between your thighs. You adjusted your dress, a contented smile on your made-up lips. Miguel glanced back at you as he resituated his slacks, his appearance no longer giving away to what he’d been up to seconds before.

“A hand?” You asked, holding yours out to him. He wordlessly stepped forward and helped you down, the mask of indifference back on his features.

Once you were steadied on your heels, he bent down to retrieve your panties, handing them over. You bit your lip and took them, silently following him as he led you to the front door. He grabbed the clutch that’d been carelessly tossed to the floor when you’d arrived and gave it back to you.

“Felt like slumming it tonight?” You teased. You always enjoyed teasing Miguel. He was a serious man, often formal with those he met. But you’d known him awhile, had the pleasure of doing business with him on a semi-regular basis. It’d become a game of yours, to see if you could get him to break his façade. And he usually did, especially when you were fucking each other.

But tonight was different. Something was weighing heavy on his mind. He’d been more quiet than usual, even rougher, if at all possible. You hadn’t minded because you weren’t a delicate daisy. You were there to be what he needed, even if that was just a place to take out his aggression.

“I’d hardly call a four-thousand dollar escort “slumming””. He retorted flatly, finally meeting your gaze.

“Well, luxury has a price. You know that.” You stepped closer to him, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He eyed you tensely, his lips pursed with tension of another kind. “You alright?” You asked sincerely, knowing he would dodge the question. Miguel wasn’t one for long talks or venting sessions, especially because the source of his stress was running a multi-million dollar drug cartel.

He immediately nodded, predictably not bothering to give your question any thought. “Fine. Jorge will take you home.” He said with a clipped tone, gesturing to the awaiting Escalade out front.

You nodded, allowing him to avoid the topic. He was the boss after all. “Okay. Night.”

You took a step towards the door, but stopped when his hand reached for you.

“I’ll need you Monday night. A gala.” He informed you stiffly, his fingers caressing the flesh of your arm tenderly, eclipsing the harshness he’d shown earlier.

“Sure.”

“Buy a new gown. Have Hector charge it to my account. And make it-,”

“Classy, I know.” You interrupted, rolling your eyes to emphasize your point. “I always am, baby. Its why I’m the best.” You winked, successfully pulling a smile from him.

He chuckled and nodded, not bothering to dispute your claim. He knew it was true. It was why you were his only girl and he was your only client. Miguel only ever indulged in the best and he dropped major cash to get it. He had an image to uphold and you were there as the cherry on top of his opulent life. The sex was just an added bonus…one you got compensated for.

“Goodnight.” He kissed your cheek, lips barely grazing the corner of your mouth.

You basked in the affection and sent him a flirty smile, adjusting your breasts against the fabric of your dress. He opened the door and watched as you climbed into the SUV, the flash of thigh and leg as you got in capturing both Miguel’s and the driver’s attention. You pulled your compact from your purse and touched up your smeared make-up, relishing in the residual buzz of your powerful orgasm. The man didn’t need to find pleasure in the arms of a paid escort. He was blindingly attractive and sickeningly wealthy. He could find a willing pussy within a two mile radius. But his life wasn’t cut out for just anyone. Women came and went but none could hold it down.

Enter you.

You were anything and everything he needed you to be. It was your job and you did it well. Your cum-filled pussy cemented that fact. And Miguel Galindo may be a murdering, cheating, conniving cartel boss, but he also knew how to fuck. The money may keep your bills paid, but the sex? That’s what kept you coming back.

[ohnomybreadsticks]

HEY uh can I interest you in some mermaid porn?? Cause I have some of that. Please enjoy this absolute unit of a story I banged out (haha) in an afternoon. Thanks to the ever-supportive @jaskiersvalley for cheering me on to write what is definitely the kinkiest shit I’ve ever written

Continuation of Eskel/Lambert/Cahir Mermaid AU: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Rating: E, ~3.5K, CW: oviposition, two dicks, belly stuffing, belly kink

The day that Cahir learns Eskel has more than one cock is the day his world changes most definitely for the better. They’re all laying out on the beach, Lambert and Cahir in their trunks, hair still damp from swimming in the ocean, skin warm from the sun and dotted with sand. Cahir and Eskel are kissing, or rather, Cahir is being kissed silly by Eskel, who despite all his shyness is quite forward about kissing his boyfriends until they’re panting and dizzy. Cahir can just barely hear Lambert murmuring sweet things to Eskel above the pounding of his own heart, his hands roaming across Eskel’s hips where weathered skin blends seamlessly into smooth scales.

Cahir’s hands dip down just a few inches further and bump against a sort of bulge, wet and warm and unexpected enough to have him gasping into Eskel’s mouth. They break apart just in time for him to look down and see two slick shapes begin to poke out of a slit in Eskel’s scales, and he gapes in surprise, mind unable to come up with anything to compare them to. Eskel, of course, being himself, flushes and assumes the worst, pushing back against Lambert and trying to cover himself. 

“Sorry, I just got a little excited, I know it’s strange compared to--” Eskel tries to babble out, but Cahir grabs him gently by the wrists and pulls his hands away, staring at what is suddenly his new favorite sight.

“You’ve got two cocks.” Cahir says dumbly, “Two fucking cocks you’ve been holding back from us...holy shit.” 

Lambert says something similarly excited, although it comes out garbled because Cahir is sure all of the blood in his body has gone to his dick in the last thirty seconds.

Luckily, words become completely irrelevant as soon as Cahir is face down in the sand, Eskel’s weight on top of him as one cock slides into his hole and the other one slips between his legs. There’s a texture and a girth to it that has Cahir whining and begging wordlessly, mouth open and gasping. Eskel holds him steady with those strong hands of his, hips snapping and driving into him until he sees stars and spills all over the sand, crying out weakly as Eskel slips out and leaves him feeling empty but oh so satisfied.

And if Cahir thinks that’s the hottest thing he’s ever experienced, rolling onto his back post climax and watching Lambert try to fit both cocks into his mouth immediately breaks that notion. His lips stretch obscenely, saliva and whatever slick lubricant Eskel produces dripping down his chin. Straddling Eskel with his knees in the sand as he bobs his head in an awkward sort of rhythm, Lambert looks as though he’s properly worshipping. And given the way he’s leaking onto Eskel’s scales, it’s just as pleasurable for him as it is for their boyfriend.

By the time Eskel finally comes, Lambert has made a mess all over him and he’s starting to whine in a way that Cahir can tell means his jaw is starting to hurt. But it’s worth it to watch Eskel arch and convulse, tail flapping hard enough to send the sand up in sprays. His wordless grunts trail off, and for a few blissful moments there’s just the dull roar of the waves blending with the harsh panting of all three of them trying to catch their breath. Eskel reaches up and tenderly cups at Lambert’s aching jaw, massaging at it gently, and Cahir finds the energy to crawl over and press up against the both of them, enjoying the feeling of skin on skin despite the stickiness and the sand.

“So. I’d call that my favorite discovery of my whole damn life.” Lambert pipes up eventually, voice hoarse and wrecked, but sounding terribly smug despite it all. 

---

From then on, their relationship blossoms into one where they freely enjoy each others’ bodies on a regular basis. It’s still full of quiet evenings snuggled together and warm afternoons spent laughing on the beach, but now it’s not a surprise for Cahir to join the other two for lunch and find Lambert enthusiastically riding Eskel, or for Lambert to pull Cahir aside at work for a quick blowjob where no one can see them. Cahir is, quite frankly, not sure how this arrangement could get any better - the emotional fulfillment and the sexual pleasure already at what he assumes is a maximum.

Luckily for him, it turns out Eskel has one last secret up his sleeve. 

It’s Lambert who finally has the post-sex braincells left to think to ask “Why do you only cum out of one of your dicks? What’s the other one for?” And Eskel, despite having just fucked Lambert until he was practically crying, manages to look embarrassed. He does that incredibly cute thing where he flushes and ducks his head away, and it makes Cahir want to lean in and kiss him. Which he does, of course, and it has the added bonus that he gets to whisper “It’s okay. You can tell us whatever, promise. We love you no matter what.” against Eskel’s lips as they part. 

It seems to work enough courage into Eskel’s system that he manages to speak, voice soft and hesitant still as he says “The second one’s for my eggs.” Lambert and Cahir have both leaned in close to try and hear him, so it’s easy to glance over and share a look of both confusion and excitement.

“Eggs, sweetheart?” Lambert gently encourages, “What eggs?” He’s running a hand soothingly across Eskel’s chest, because he can feel his heart beat fluttering away anxiously under his fingertips. Eskel licks his lips, taking a deep breath to steady his voice before he speaks again. “We, uh, I mean, mermaids, mermen, we lay eggs. Fertilized or not, when it’s time to lay it just sort of...happens. I usually just swim into a little cove and deal with it.” he explains, clearly nervous to be detailing this, “I’ve never done it with a partner, and I thought it might, you know, gross you out.” 

Cahir has to admit, at first his brain does react negatively to the idea. It’s strange and new, and he can’t quite imagine it. But then he looks down at Eskel and feels such a surge of fondness that any worries immediately disappear. Because he meant what he said earlier, he loves Eskel no matter what. Even if he’ll need a little bit of time to wrap his head around the idea of egg laying. Lambert, meanwhile, seems to have no such qualms, immediately leaning down to kiss his boyfriend, slow and deep. 

“God, babe, every time I think you can’t get any sexier, you prove me wrong” He rumbles, and the tone of desire is real, real enough to have a flicker of warmth spreading through Cahir in return. “Just thinking about it has me wanting to get hard again” Lambert continues, punctuating his thoughts with little kisses all along Eskel’s jaw and down his neck that have him squirming, “Having you fill us up with your eggs, would you like that? Have us stuffed full and begging for it, trying to hold it all for you?” 

The image of it hits Cahir for the first time clearly, Eskel pinning Lambert down and thrusting into him as he swells up with some unknown substance, belly pushing out in a heavy curve. It’s enough to have his spent cock twitching with interest, suddenly far more into this than he had been just moments ago. It seems to be a super power of Lambert’s, the ability to make anything seem unbearably sexy, at least enough to try it once. This has gotten them into trouble more than once, but somehow Cahir and Eskel are powerless against its siren call. Lambert continues to murmur absolutely filthy words against Eskel’s skin, and it’s not long before all three of them are tangled together, spurred on by the promise of something new to try.

That sense of promise hands heavy in the air even as the week plays out, and in moments when they aren’t as blinded with lust they actually begin to plan the logistics of how this might happen. Eskel was able to look at the calendar Lambert brought to the beach and plot out when his next spawning cycle would be, and Cahir read up on the safety and preparation for taking objects inside of you. It turned out that Eskel’s eggs, his clutch, were a manageable size, nothing too impossibly large or impossibly many. On paper, at least. Having them slipping inside would be an entirely different thing, Cahir knew.

The thought of it all is enough to have him shifting in his seat as he does his research, a hand drifting unconsciously to his stomach, resting there and imagining what it might feel to have something filling him up. At first, Cahir had assumed it would be Lambert that Eskel chose to fill, given Lambert’s eagerness and the strong emotional bond they shared. To his surprise, Eskel had shyly asked if he would be interested in carrying the clutch. Lambert would supervise, making sure they were both safe during, and taking care of them in the aftermath. Sort of like a lifeguard, Cahir remembers thinking dimly, but that had barely been a consideration over the excitement and arousal of being chosen to carry this first clutch.

He can’t wait.

---

The weeks fly by, and Cahir finds that suddenly he doesn’t have to wait anymore. Eskel has been slightly agitated in the days leading up, and Lambert mentions now that he’s seen this behavior once before, during a week when Eskel mysteriously disappeared for a few days - a mystery no more. Cahir is privately glad that they get to do it together now, because the thought of their boyfriend swimming off to some secluded spot and going through...whatever this is alone is enough to squeeze his heart with pity. 

This time though, this time is different. The weather cooperates, and as Lambert and Cahir make their way to the beach the sun is shining down and the air is warm and pleasant against their skin. Cahir is practically vibrating from the excitement and anticipation (and nerves), ready to get started as soon as possible. He’s prepped and stretched himself already, his hole slick with lube and clenching around a decent sized plug. It jostles pleasantly as he walks, and between that and the arousal of knowing Eskel is about to fill him up, Cahir is half hard by the time they set foot on the beach. 

He must look tempting enough to have Lambert pulling him into a deep kiss as soon as their supplies are set down on the sand. Cahir melts into him, mouth opening with a groan as Lambert thoroughly claims his mouth. “Can’t wait to watch him take you, sweetheart” He purrs as they pull apart, nipping one last time at Cahir’s bottom lip and leaving him dazed and panting. Cahir doesn’t even really help with the setup, watching Lambert spread out the towels and pop open the backpack full of lube, water bottles, and snacks - ‘just the essentials’ in Lambert’s own words.

Shamelessly, Cahir flops down on the towel and strips his trunks off, giving his cock a few slow strokes to work himself to full hardness. Not a moment too soon, apparently, as Eskel suddenly crests out of the waves, brushing his hair out of his face and flashing them both that familiar lopsided grin. His gaze is different though, heated and focused in a way Cahir’s never seen as his eyes immediately zero in on the plug between his legs. 

“He’s all ready, baby” Lambert coos, beckoning Eskel closer and kissing him before adding “Are you ready too?” Eskel nods, murmuring something too soft for Cahir to hear, but it makes Lambert laugh and look fondly over at where he’s displayed himself on the towel. “I agree. He looks good enough to devour. It’s a good thing he’s all yours, hm?” Lambert says, reaching out and rubbing at Cahir’s thigh, making his legs drop open even further in invitation.

“Please” Cahir hears himself say, in a voice that’s far too breathy already. He hadn’t realized just how badly he wants Eskel to fuck him full until just this moment, when he can look down and see the tips of both cocks poking out from their slit, already dripping. That seems to break something in Eskel, and he crosses the distance between them faster than anything without legs should be able to. Cahir is suddenly pinned beneath him, mouth being invaded yet again, and he can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.

Cahir ruts his hips up against Eskel, and feels the slick slide of his own cock against his boyfriends’ two. There’s something different today though, a roughness and a firmness to the second cock that has Cahir moaning into Eskel’s mouth. It’s finally going to fulfill its purpose and pump out Eskel’s clutch into a willing host. They break apart so that Cahir can gasp for breath, his arms locked around his boyfriend to anchor himself. 

“In me, please, I want you” He pleads again, and he feels someone’s hands gently teasing at his hole, pulling the plug out so slowly it’s torturous. The flared bulb stretches and pulls at his rim in a way that Cahir is hoping mimics the stretch of the eggs he’s about to be stuffed with, and his hips jerk desperately up. Eskel, who is normally the more quiet participant in their fucking, growls low and deep in his chest, the first indication that he’s just as desperate as Cahir is for this. The wide head of his boyfriend’s cock (his ovipositor, actually, the smug research-oriented part of Cahir’s brain tries to interject) pushes up against his hole and finally slips inside.

The prep means Eskel can slide home fairly quickly without injuring Cahir, and the sudden fullness and stretch has him throwing his head back at the wave of pleasure. It’s an unfamiliar stretch, because they usually fuck with Eskel’s other cock, and that newness has Cahir’s toes curling happily. To his surprise, there’s no rocking, no snapping of hips, no actual fucking aside from the way Eskel is slowly grinding against his hole. He’s about to ask if something is wrong when he suddenly feels the press of something new inside of him.

Oh fuck. That was faster than expected.

Cahir is loose with pleasure, but he can’t help the way he naturally clenches around the egg, testing the feeling inside of him. It’s firm, but with some amount of give, a texture which he has to assume is somewhat gelatinous, and it’s, oh, it’s very hard to think about an accurate measurement of size when it’s sliding further inside, pressing deliciously against all of Cahir’s favorite spots. He squirms in Eskel’s grip, but is held still with another one of those wonderful growls, and finds his attention suddenly split between the egg and his boyfriend’s lips. The next few eggs press in in a haze of pleasure, so quickly Cahir doesn’t even have time to count them.

So he’s not sure exactly when he comes, his cock finally spurting up over his belly as the feeling of being full starts to reach a crescendo. Lambert’s voice is murmuring in his ear, telling him how gorgeous he looks when he comes, and how well they’re both doing, how good they are for him. But Cahir can’t really register it, the waves of his orgasm stretched and extended by the roll of each new egg along his passage. His hips rock against Eskel’s, trying to wring every little drop of pleasure out of this that he can.

It’s only when he finally comes back to his body that Cahir realizes two things: one, he’s very full, and two, Eskel doesn’t seem to be stopping. There are so many eggs inside of him now that he can feel them jostling against each other as more are forced inside, and he can almost imagine the clacking sound they would be making if they were hard shelled. He gasps, instinct making him try to squirm away as the first cramp of ‘too full’ grips him, and suddenly there are hands cupping his face, thumbs gently stroking at his cheekbones as his eyes focus on Lambert’s smiling face.

“Shhhh...Sweetheart, I’ve got you. Relax, okay, it’s almost over.” Lambert soothes, and when Cahir whines out a thin “Too much” he gets a gentle kiss in reply. “I know, I know, it’s a lot. But Eskel’s almost done, just a few more and then he’s finished.” Lambert says, “Here, can you feel? Feel just how much you’ve taken, I know you can take a little more.” So focused on his gentle tone and comforting words, Cahir allows Lambert to guide his one hand off of Eskel’s back and down to his own abdomen without thinking. His fingers brush against an unexpected swell, and the gasp that escapes his lips this time is one of pure arousal.

Cahir is full enough that there’s a sloping swell, a bump that starts above his hipbones and juts out proudly, the texture lumpy and uneven when his fingers press down a little more firmly. He’s stuffed so full of Eskel’s eggs that everyone can see, and the force of that realization hits Cahir with a wave of pleasure strong enough to have him moaning. Any discomfort is forgotten, his palm spreading eagerly against his own belly to feel the pressure and sense of overwhelming fullness. Eskel makes one more aborted grinding motion and stills, nosing at Cahir’s neck as he lays there panting. It’s over, Cahir thinks dimly, and some part of him is disappointed that he won’t get any fuller.

As if he can read his mind, Lambert brushes Cahir’s hair off of his sweaty forehead and murmurs “You ready for the best part? Think you can get off again, come for me and Eskel?” Cahir makes a weak sound of confusion as he feels Eskel slip out and then press back in immediately, the feeling pleasant but unexpected. His body is primed for pleasure though, despite being stretched to its limit, and he finds himself groaning softly as Eskel makes a first tentative thrust. The movement jostles the eggs inside of him, pressing against his prostate, and Cahir begins to wonder if maybe he can get off again.

By the time Eskel is properly fucking into him, Cahir is wailing and clinging to Lambert, convinced now that he’s absolutely going to come again. How could he not, when he can feel the heavy mass in his gut weighing him down, when he can hear Eskel’s pleased punched out noises every time he thrusts in, an almost desperate edge to the way he’s fucking. Like he needs just a little something more, anything, to push him over and finish this. Cahir knows just how that feels, so for the first time since they started he leans up and tugs Eskel into a messy kiss. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but he can feel just how dazed and overwhelmed his boyfriend is, and he wants nothing more than for them to let go together.

It’s Lambert that pushes Eskel over the edge, sucking hickeys onto his neck and murmuring something Cahir can’t hear that has Eskel groaning both their names as he thrusts once - twice - three times more and finally comes. Somehow, Cahir hadn’t counted on the fact that Eskel would be filling him with come as well as eggs, and the way his belly swells out even further has him seeing stars again. The orgasm is strong enough to have him whiting out as he drifts away from consciousness, body overwhelmed and feeling blissfully light. 

---

When Cahir comes to, he’s sandwiched between a very sweaty Eskel and Lambert, but he doesn’t mind one bit. He’s grinning like an idiot, he knows, and that look of sheer delight after such a fantastic orgasm is mirrored on Lambert’s face. Eskel, meanwhile, looks more awestruck than anything else, his eyes wide and his smile fond as he stares down to where his hand is resting on Cahir’s gut. He’s still full, belly keeping him pinned on his back, he realizes belatedly, and the realization washes over him, eyes slipping closed as he savors it. Lambert must have plugged him up, and he’ll need to thank him for that later.

He’ll have a lot of things to say to his boyfriends later, Cahir knows, but for now he wants to lay here and enjoy the feeling of being so full of eggs and love that he never wants to move again, even if he thought he could.

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

come sit on my lap for reddie please!

Your wish is my command! (notsfw ahead!)

read on ao3

* * * * *

For Eddie, working at the local coffee shop down the street from his dorm seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time. It was close by, it allowed him to work flexible hours and he was offered all the free coffee his heart desired. At first, it really was the dream job. He got to meet new people and improve on his social skills on a daily basis.

That is, until the customer from hell made it his mission to make Eddie feel like was the size of a pea.

It all started on a Saturday, a few weeks since he took on the job and his first Saturday on the lunchtime rush. Everything had been going smoothly until Daniel showed up. Daniel was an asshole in every way shape and form. He was the son of a lawyer, and because of this, believed that the world revolves around him and everyone had to stop what they were doing the moment he stepped into the coffee shop.

As it was Eddie’s first Saturday shift, no-one had thought to warn him about Daniel, and therefore he wasn’t prepared for when the man roughly grabbed his shoulder when he was in the middle of speaking to another customer. Long story short, Daniel had berated Eddie for not being at the till the second he walked in, and he screamed right in his face in front of all the customers.

It wasn’t until after he had gone, huffing and puffing about ‘crappy service’ that the other girl behind the counter told Eddie all about Daniel and his rudeness. She also told him not to take anything he says to heart, as he is just what some people call a ‘Chad’. Eddie had been so confused he’d left work and gone straight to his boyfriend Richie’s place and asked him to explain.

Once he knew exactly what the girl was talking about, Eddie had to agree. Daniel was definitely a Chad.

Eddie firmly believed that that was that, and the next time Daniel came in he would just be on his toes. However, it seemed as though Daniel had other plans, and the next time he came in it was with the most complicated coffee order. For the life of him, Eddie could not get it right and Daniel didn’t hold back on his creative insults, both to Eddie’s face and to the other customers that were coming in and out of the coffee shop.

After that, it became a regular thing. Every Saturday that Eddie was working, Daniel would come in and have a new and inventive method to get under his skin. It was really starting to wear Eddie down and affect not only his school life, but his relationship with Richie.

This Saturday was just like no other, except this time, Daniel had attacked him about his personal life, not just his coffee making abilities. He had ranted about how useless Eddie was and how he was surprised that he had any friends, never mind someone to have a serious relationship with. After all, who would want to date someone so useless?

That hit a little too close to home for Eddie, and he had to excuse himself into the back of the coffee shop to calm down. The manager, who was working that day, came through and told him that he could leave early, as what Daniel had said was out of line. Eddie hated that they couldn’t do anything, as he was still a valued customer who brought in a lot of pennies.

At first, all Eddie wanted to do was go home, have a bath and cry, but the more he thought about it on his walk to his apartment, the more he actually didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to be with Richie. So he turned on his heels and headed to the subway station, sending his boyfriend a message to let him know he was on his way.

Coming over, feeling a little…edgy - Eddie

The reply was instant.

It’s like you read my mind Eds, see you soon! - Richie.

When he walked into Richie’s apartment, he didn’t even have to say anything for Richie to know what was wrong. This time though, Richie wasn’t in the mood to sit and talk about the asshole from Eddie’s work, and Eddie wasn’t either. As he stepped into the living room, Richie patted his lap, a smirk on his face.

“Hey baby, come sit on my lap?”

Eddie let out a sigh and dropped his stuff by the door, crossing the room and climbing into Richie’s lap, letting their lips come together softly, at first, before it turned dirty. Richie’s hands moved under Eddie’s work shirt and pulled it up, aiming to remove it. With a giggle, Eddie lifted his arms, allowing Richie to pull the shirt off and toss it onto the floor to be dealt with later.

“Eager hm?” Eddie asked and Richie just silenced him with his lips, licking into his mouth, their tongues moving together in harmony. Eddie loved kissing Richie, the feeling of their lips always sent shivers down his spine, no matter what. Richie’s fingers had moved to his pants now, fumbling to undo the button.

As soon as the button was undone and the zipper tugged down, RIchie dipped his hands down Eddie’s pants and his boxers, wrapping it around his already hardening cock, smirking at the soft gasp that escaped Eddie’s lips. “I have the blue balls baby,” Richie breathed into his ear. “We haven’t been down and dirty in what…four days?”

A flush rose up on Eddie’s cheeks as Richie started pumping his cock, thumb flicking over his head every so often to make him whimper with need. His boyfriend was right, it had been a little too long since they’d been to bed together, and it was clearly showing in their frantic moves to get some action. “Y-Yeah,” he breathed, eyes falling closed. “S-sounds bout right…”

“I can’t go four days without getting a dicking baby,” Richie cooed, quickening his movements. “You should know this about me already.” Eddie just nodded, his breathing becoming heavier as Richie picked up the pace. He wasn’t going to last long, and it seemed that Richie didn’t care. “I want you to come like this Eds, fuck you need it. Then, I’m going to take you to bed and ravage you so the only thing left on your mind is my cock inside your ass.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie gasped, his eyes rolling backwards as he surged forward, caputuring Richie’s lips. A few pumps of his boyfriend’s hand and he was coming like a fucking teenager into his underwear. He rocked his hips into Richie’s hand, riding out his orgasm until the sensitivity set in and he collapsed against his chest. “Jesus fucking christ,” he panted.

Richie laughed, “Not jesus baby, just Richie.” Eddie suppressed a groan and Richie moved to stand up, ready to carry him into the bedroom for the second part of the evening.

Yes, Eddie might still have to deal with shitty customers at work, but as long as he had Richie to come home to at the end of an awful day, he was sure he’d survive.

* * * * *

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