#he's gonna give him a second source of income if you know what i mean | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cupcakeasuka · 2 years

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Mammon x SW Reader

Fandom: Obey Me!

Warnings: Adult themed content, references to SW, cussing, smut, lemon

You and Mammon didn’t always get along. In fact, when you first arrived in Devildom he hated your guts- and you didn’t particularly like him either. However, as you were spending every single day together, you started to grow on each other a little more with each passing moment…

About 8 months after arriving in Devildom, you and Mammon had spent so much time together that you were closer with him than anyone else. So close in fact, that you guys were kind of a thing. It wasn’t official by any means, but nearly everyone knew by now that you both belonged to each other. All the sly flirting, the way you’d hold hands in the halls sometimes, always sticking up for each other… Yeah.. you were definitely a thing.

You guys were a perfect match for each other too. Always planning and scheming for your shared love of money. Since you two teamed up you were almost unstoppable. Any amount of money was in your reach. If one of you failed to think of a plan for the day, the other one was sure to. The others even started to refer to you both as “the perfect duo”.

Despite how close you guys were, there were some things Mammon still didn’t know about you. One of the most important facts being that before you arrived in Devildom; your main source of income was SW. When you arrived in Devildom you obviously had to give that up and pick up random jobs here and there to make ends meet. However, today you discovered something amazing! Devildom has a website just like the one you used to work on in the human world.

You definitely had to get in on this newfound income. Back in the human world you made enough income through it that you were able to quit your other jobs and still lived very comfortably. You were speed walking straight to Mammon’s room, papers clenched in your hand. If you could show him the numbers surely he would approve.

“No.” Your mouth was gaping wide from shock. “What?” You said in disbelief “What do you mean ‘no’?”.

“The Great Mammon isn’t gonna share you with the rest of Devildom.” Mammon wraps his long, warm fingers around your wrists and pulls you against his chest. “You’re mine Y/N.”

Your heart starts to race as your cheeks heat up with anticipation.

“What are you saying? We aren’t a couple…” Your voice trails off.

“Not a couple, huh?” Mammon smirks as he watches your eyes dart away from him. One of his hands moves away from your wrist and as you’re about to look over and see where he is going, you feel his slender fingers slide under your chin. Just as quickly as you looked away, he has you looking right back into his eyes again. “How about we change that Y/N?”

“What…” Your mouth hangs in shock.

“Y/N, I wanna be your boyfriend. Officially.” His eyes soften as well as his grip on your wrist. While looking at you intently, he slides his arm around your waist and pulls you into a gentle, warm kiss. A few moments pass before you both pull away.

“Yes..” You say under your breath.

“What was that Y/N,” He smirks again. “The Great Mammon couldn’t quite hear ya.” Your cheeks heat up even more to a deep shade of red. You can’t believe that Mammon asked you to be his girlfriend. I mean… You came to his room to tell him about a money opportunity and he turned you down and made you his girlfriend.

“Wait a second-” You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. “why does this mean we can’t use my idea?” You puff in frustration. “Do you understand how much money I made in the human world doing this? This would be so good for us!” Mammon pouts for a moment, but then a smile spreads across his face and his eyes widen as if an idea struck.

“Fine Y/N,” his eyes meet yours “if this is what ya wanna do, ya have The Great Mammon’s permission- on one condition.”

“Okay!” You smile with joy. “What is the condition?” Knowing Mammon he will probably expect a large cut of the income.

“I want to do it with ya.” He looks away in embarrassment as his cheeks heat up. The look on his face makes your heart skip a beat. What is with this guy? Always getting reactions out of you left and right… Making you feel every feeling on the spectrum… You were pretty sure you were in love with him at this point. Of course… you would never say those words to him though.

“I love you.” It just wasn’t in you to say that so soon. “I love ya too, Y/N.” You look up at him in silence for a moment. “What?” What??? You accidentally said it out loud! Your face returns to a deep red shade once again. Wait, he said it back too! The more you think about what happened, the more your heart races until you start pacing back and forth, lost in your own thoughts. “Y/N? Y/N…” You hear Mammon calling your name faintly and suddenly stop and look up. “Yes?” You look at him.

“Are ya okay?” A deep laugh escapes from his lips. “What are ya pacing around my room for?” He smiles at you, knowingly. Damn him… He knows exactly what he is doing to you. You clear your throat. “Well? Let’s get started then.” He looks at you confused. “Get started with what?” “Get started recording content of course!” You see him gulp as you close the gap between the two of you. “We should probably change into something more appealing…” “Uh-right, yeah totally, but I don’t have anything else to wear don’t ya know I dress like this all the time?” He nervously stutters as he stumbles away from you. Oh all talk is he? We will see about that. A deviant smile spreads across your face.

“Okay, I have the camera set up Mammon. Are you ready yet?” Mammon walks out from behind a changing divider. Your jaw drops as you turn around to find him in his devil form. You forgot just how sexy and toned his body was, especially with the lack of clothing he had on. “I-is this cool?” There is a tinge of pink on his cheeks as he looks away scratching his head. “I really ain’t got much else.”

“Y-you look just fine haha.” You try to laugh off how turned on you are just from looking at him. “So how’s this work anyways?” Mammon walks towards the camera, hands on hips. “Whadda we do, just turn it on and make money?” You giggle. “Not exactly. It is more work than that. You don’t need to worry about it though. I will do all the other stuff myself.” You smile gently at him. You both love money, sure, but you love him even more. You would do anything for him, so taking on the extra workload yourself was nothing to you if it made him happy. “No.” Your face changes to a look of shock. “I wanna help. I ain’t completely useless ya know.” He looks away, scratching his head and lets out a grunt. You’ve never seen him this way before. He wants to do more work than he has to? That is very uncharacteristic of him, but it is sweet. Your face softens again. He must really care about you to act like that.

“Okay, I’ll teach you how.” You smile and finish setting up the equipment. “The next thing we need to do is decide what kind of content we want to make. We can basically make anything we want as long as we follow the guidelines. I printed them out. They should be around here somewhere..” You search around Mammon’s room for the papers you brought earlier. “Ah!” You pick them up to find that the guidelines in Devildom are a lot more lax than in the human world. “Oh… Well we shouldn’t have anything to worry about. There aren’t very many guidelines here apparently. That means we can do just about anything we want.” You return to his side near his bed. “Whadda we do after we record stuff?” He plops down on his mattress, looking at the camera that is directed towards it. “Well I set up an account for myself already so we will post the content we make on there and people will have to pay to see it.” Mammon pouts a little bit. “What’s wrong?” You ask frantically as you move towards him.

“I still ain’t fond of the idea that other people will get to see your body…” Suddenly you feel a hand on your wrist and Mammon pulls you down onto the bed. You sit up to find that you are directly on top of him. Realizing your compromising position, you quickly try to sit up, but Mammon pulls you back down, your chests flush together and lips only centimeters apart. The skin on your cheeks heats up so much you can feel the warmth radiating off them.

“M-Mammon…” Your voice is nothing but a nervous whisper.

“What’s wrong Y/N? Ain’t this the point?” He was right. The only difference was that the camera wasn’t turned on yet. “Whadda ya say we get a little practice in before we on that camera?” Your face turns a deeper shade of red and you try to pull away again only to realize that Mammon has one hand on your wrist and the other wrapped firmly around your waist. Your eyes meet his and you wriggle in his grasp. He looks off to the side, pouting a little bit. “If ya really wanna escape that badly, I’ll let ya go.” He mumbles. As he speaks you realize that he is also embarrassed, his cheeks just as red as your own.

“N-no…” You look down and nervously grab onto the straps on his chest. “I-it’s not that I don’t like it…” Your cheeks heat up more with every word that comes out of your mouth. “It’s just… We’ve never done this before is all…” You mumble. Before you can speak again you feel long fingers reach beneath your chin and pull your face up into a passionate kiss. You can feel the heat from his lips as they press firmly into yours. His lips are soft and taste slightly sweet, like vanilla. You press your lips into his as well and the kiss continues to grow deeper.

His hand lets go of your wrist and travels to the back of your head to pull you into him even more. You are both gasping for breath, but neither one of you pulls away. You feel something hard growing against your thigh and as you shift you realize it belongs to Mammon. A light moan escapes your lips and Mammon pulls you against him harder. As your bodies press together roughly you feel his hard wood begin to twitch. You respond to his body by rubbing your thigh up against his crotch. Suddenly, as if he can’t hold back any longer, he rolls over, landing right on top of you. He rips off your top, exposing your luscious breasts. He adjusts slightly and takes one of your nipples between his lips.

“Mammon..” his name escapes from your mouth in a breathy moan. You feel a slight embarrassment overcome you when you realize he heard you.

“That’s all it takes to get ya goin’ huh?” He gives off his signature smirk as he looks up at you, then quickly slides his hand under your panties and between your thighs. You jolt back for a moment in shock, but his other arm catches you, keeping you from going any further. “Don’t go gettin’ shy on me now, babe. I’m just gettin’ started.” Hearing his voice calms you down and you relax your body in his arms. He gives you a sweet kiss on your neck as his fingers move in small circles on your clit. The kiss grows deeper and he gently nibbles with his teeth.

“M-Mammon..” you moan his name even deeper than before. You attempt to speak through the pleasure that his skillful fingers are inflicting upon you. “Y-you’re going to leave a mark at this rate..” “Would that be so bad?” He speaks between kisses on your neck. “Then everyone will know ya belong to me.” You blush deeply at the sweet thought and go to cover your face with your arm. “Watcha doin’ that for? I wanna see your reaction for this next part.” He swiftly pulls your arm away from your face and removes your soaking wet panties. You lay there completely naked as you watch him move further down on the bed. His face disappears between your soft, plump thighs and you feel his tongue moving against you. You gasp as a breathy moan escapes from you once again. His tongue gingerly moves up and down right between your lips and then lands on your clit. He expertly works in a circular motion while his fingers slide right into your dripping slit.

You gasp in pleasure and grab ahold of the sheets with both hands, twisting it beneath you. You feel him speed up in desperation when he realizes just how much he is pleasing you. Who knew the avatar of greed could be so generous. His heavy breaths create warmth against your thighs as he continues. Your toes begin to curl into the bed as you feel his fingers and tongue simultaneously hit the perfect spot at the same time. Loud moans of fulfillment come bursting out of you. Surely loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. “Mammon! Yes! Mammon!” You moan his name over and over as your sweet nectar coats his fingers and spills out onto the sheets. You’re both gasping for air. A smirk reappears on his lips as he leans back down and you feel his tongue trail over your crotch, cleaning up every last drop that covers your skin. “Th-thank you..” An embarrassed mumble rolls off your tongue as you look off to the side.

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear ya.” He lets out a hardy laugh. “I’m glad I was able to please ya, Y/N”. His face turns to a gentle look for a moment before he winces in pain and his hand travels down to his crotch. You slowly inch over to him, looking into his eyes. You unzip his pants and slide them off. He looks down at you in disbelief.

“What’s wrong Mammon?”

“N-nothing..” His cheeks turn pink now as if he didn’t just give you the best orgasm of your life. You pull down his boxers enough to release his throbbing wood from its prison. You lean down and, starting from the bottom, slowly slide your tongue all the way to the tip while passionately looking him in the eyes. His cock flinches with pleasure from just the slight touch and he squirms beneath you. You sensually wrap your tongue and lips around the tip and rotate your tongue in circles over it.

“Fuck!” Mammon’s head flings back in satisfaction as he moans out. His hand lands on your head and his fingers entangle with your hair. He moves his hips faintly as his impatience grows. Savoring this opportunity to tease him a bit, you leisurely move your lips down his shaft, gripping the bottom with one hand. His fingers tighten in your hair while whispers of stifled moans drift from his mouth. You look up at him biting his bottom lip, head still thrown back as he writhes in pleasure. His eyes suddenly meet yours, desperately, as if he is pleading for more.

Before you can continue he swiftly grabs onto your arm and pulls you up to him. His hard cock is abruptly flush against your slit. His hips gently bounce up and down, rubbing his wood against you. You are still sensitive and even the slight touch is intoxicatingly pleasurable. Lifting your hips up, you line him up with your hand and steadily lower your dripping cunt down, sliding it around his erection. You both writhe in pleasure as he perfectly slides into you. His hands move to your thighs, squeezing them tightly, he bounces his hips at a much quicker pace than before. You feel his hard member slam into your cervix and you howl out his name. A pleased grunt follows, showing that this only encouraged him more. His hips move a bit to each side as he continues bobbing you up and down. A few more whimpered moans escape you before he pulls you off his lap and has you face down against the bed. You go to look behind you right as you feel him press his hands up against your succulent ass, putting your face right back down onto the bed. His shaft slides right back in, causing your juices to drip down your thighs.

“Mmm..” You hear muffled sounds of pleasure coming from him as he runs a finger up your wet thigh. One arm wraps around you from behind, reaching over your chest, all the way up to your neck. His hand grips your neck firmly, pulling you back into him. You feel every inch of his hard member throbbing inside you causing you to squirm. You hear a devilish laugh just before he pulls back and starts to vigorously pound into you from behind. The hand he has on your ass gets a firmer grip as his hips slam into you and pull away again. Following his lead, you move your hips with his. His pace begins to increase and both of you are filling the room with deep moans of enjoyment. You feel him lean over you, while still filling you with pleasure, and gently bite your shoulder. His tongue slides over your skin and it sends you over the edge. Your walls begin to twitch as you cover his cock in your creamy juices. Uncontrollable moans escape your lips as you scream his name over and over.

“Mammon! Mammon! Fuck!” You may have finished, but he hasn’t. His pace doesn’t slow down. In fact, he speeds up as if seeing you cum for him made him want you even more. Your body, more sensitive now, starts feeling a buildup of excitement again. In your mind you know that if he keeps going you’re going to explode again. You feel his member begin throbbing more vigorously and he speeds up the pace once again. “Fuck! Y/N!” Loud moans erupt from him and you quickly join him. The room is echoing with your loud moans as you both explode from sheer pleasure. You feel his warm fluids fill you up and start dripping down your leg. As soon as he pulls out, you collapse, exhausted from how good he made your body feel. You hear him chuckle as he wraps himself around your tired, naked body. He gives you a sweet kiss on the cheek as you both drift into a peaceful slumber.

#mammon #lemon #obeyme #fanfic #smut #mammonobeyme

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godwrecks · 3 years

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𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗮

𝗣𝘁. 𝟮 - 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗪𝗮𝗻𝘁

word count: 4.1k

tags; college au. angst. confession. fwb. drugs. fluff if you squint.

The first thing you registered was the light buzzing - no, vibrating of Suna’s phone. Much too dazed by your sleep, you didn’t wonder who was blowing up his messages this late at night. Raising up the sheets to shield your naked body from the cold, you tried to get some sleep, but Suna’s incessant tossing kept you from doing so.

You finally turned to him, eyes squinting at his illuminated face. “Why the fuck is your screen so bright?” You groaned and nuzzled into his chest, wrapping an arm around his bare torso. He merely chuckled, quickly putting away the phone.

“Why so cranky, you just woke up,” despite speaking in hushed sentences, his voice still dripped with mocking. Suna placed his hand on your hip, and though it remained in its station for a few seconds, he soon started trailing his fingers along your waistline.

“Can you even call it waking up? I didn’t sleep at all,” he cocked his head at that, bringing you in closer to him. “I guess I’m at fault for that.”

You smiled quietly, clearing your head as much as possible to get a wink of sleep, though you knew he’d be up and going soon. It had been a few weeks since the...incident, if that’s what you could call it. Nothing changed, really, for better or for worse. Sometimes he was more careful around you, but your relationship was only good for sex. That’s what you had to remind yourself, right? But everything remaining the same was what bugged you. You knew better than to demand more because this was never meant to go past fuck buddies. And while he started coming to you slightly less high, sometimes even seemingly sober, you knew better than to get your hopes up.

With your head like this on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat. Steady. Steady, while yours seemed to always mess up and skip around him. And yet with the slow rhythm of his heart, of his breathing, you surrendered to sleep.

When you woke up again, the sunlight was already rudely peeping past your curtains, and the other side of the bed was empty. Still adjusting to the light, you looked around the room slowly, filled with a strange relief when you found Suna dressing up.

“Practice?” You rubbed your eyes carefully, putting on a hoodie and wobbling when you stood up to reach him. He smiled arrogantly as he ran a hand through his hair, proud of the mess he made of you.

“Yeah. I gotta stop to get something on the way, so I’m heading out now.” His voice was still raspy from sleeping, some of his locks awkwardly falling over his eyes.

Though you wanted to smile at the sight, you knew he was talking about his plug and picking up shit from him. It wasn’t that you judged him for smoking - if that had been your preference, you would’ve known better than to get involved. You and Suna started out as friends, and you had been good friends for a long time at that. Some of the boys on the team always smoked together, and you almost always happened to be there with a few other girls, sometimes even taking a hit you’d be offered. Some of those girls were flings you’d never see again, others were girlfriends. But you were just a friend at the time, not thinking much of the tall and laid-back middle blocker.

“Will you be there tonight? For the party, I mean,” he spoke casually, sitting down on sheets that now smelled like him. “I’m not too sure. I have an assignment due, and I have to be up early tomorrow,” he nodded from his place, tying his boots. You hadn’t been going to many parties lately. The semester nearly ending meant your workload was accumulating, which also meant seeing Suna less. It was at parties and gatherings that you really got to see him, anyway - he was always busy with volleyball and zooted out of his mind most nights he was free. Your thoughts were abruptly cut when you felt his lips press against your forehead, finding an apologetic smile when you looked up.

“You’re starting to bore me,” he joked, but it still made your smile falter. You wanted to give yourself a good slap; since when had you become such a crybaby?

“I’m gonna go now, don’t miss me too much,” Suna stood in the door, offering a charming wink.

“Bye, loser,” you smiled back before shutting the door right in his face.

You had tuned into your laptop to absorb every piece of information from the lecture, or at least try to, as you sat in the library. A quick glance at the clock told you it was nearly midnight. Surprisingly, the library was open all night for students to study - go figure, maybe they guessed most procrastinate until the night thereof. You were taking a few sips from your drink when your phone lit up for an incoming call.

“Rin?” You spoke quietly, not bothering to decipher what the background noise was on his end.

“Baby! You picked up,” his voice was lighter than usual, a mixture of sweetness and relaxation. Suna was the type to become touchy when he was intoxicated, whether by alcohol or drugs. His hands wandered everywhere and he became extremely affectionate, even cuddly, though it was mostly him grabbing your ass. You had only ever seen it for yourself; it was what he did when you were around, and you didn’t have the heart to ask what he did, or who he did it with, when you were absent.

“What’s up?” You let out a sigh as you leaned back in your chair, fingers toying with the straw of your cup.

“I wanna see you,” he spoke and you guessed he had walked out of whatever room he was in.

“I’m studying right now. I told you, remember?”

“Mm, yeah, yeah, you did,” Suna grumbled before a sharp noise echoed through the line, followed by a curse.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just knocked some shit over. Anyways, come on, just take a break.” You took in a sharp breath, wanting to knock your head against the wall. You knew when to say no, but when it came to him that never meant it was easy.

“I really can’t, Rin. If you just want a girl all over you, call someone else,” you flinched at your own tone, stupefied by the coldness of it.

Whilst you were pondering the source of your sudden anger, Suna was chuckling, probably shaking his head. “Hey, hey, where’s that coming from?”

“Well, I’m just giving you a disclaimer. I’d love to be there, but my grade for this class is desperately crying for help,” you laughed, hoping to cover up whatever that had been.

“So what? I just call someone else?”

“If that’s what you want right now,” you frowned, a detestable panic rushing through you. It was so stupid to even suggest so in the first place, what were you hoping to accomplish? Maybe you just wanted to check for yourself what happened when you weren’t there to satisfy him.

“Unfair, much?” He sighed, and you wished you were facing him right now, if only to catch a glimpse of what goes through his mind.

“How?” You ventured with a gulp, heart pounding against its cage.

“You’re the only girl who doesn’t sober me up,” your stomach twisted onto itself at the smirk on his voice. You felt sick yet couldn’t point down the reason why - there were several. You being foolish enough to even think of this fact as a confession, him only calling you because he just wanted his high to last. Was he using you? The thought raced through your mind, along with a few scenes of you laying next to him.

“Hey,” he blurted out seriously. Between you only remained the loudest silence you had heard.

“Hey,” you were utterly breathless, struggling for air as your lungs closed up and rebelled against your will. You wondered if this was truly so shocking. While you were in the back of his hair, this fear was always forced to the back of your mind. You had knowingly mistaken every moment for more than it was.

“Are you o-”

“I need to go, actually. I’m still at the library, so I should head home. Have fun, yeah?”

Before he could even reply, you ended the call, gripping your phone so tightly that your knuckles went white.

The ride to your apartment was loathsome, to say the least. Not even the loud music could keep you away from your thoughts long enough. You turned the engine off and made your way to the elevator. In the process of searching through your backpack, your phone almost slipped from your hands when you jumped in surprise, startled at the arm sticking through the closing doors.

Your heart dropped when they opened up to reveal a panting Suna staring right through you.

“Rin, what are you doing here?” You stammered when he pressed the button to your floor, nearing your figure.

“I came here to see you,” he was still slightly out of breath, eyes scanning you as if they were searching for something. Had he run for so long?

You took a look at your handwatch and cringed. It was late, but not late enough for him to come knock at your door.

“Thought you’d be busy until later,” you replied dryly, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Yeah, well, change of plans.” His sleazy eyes never left you, and you regretted not taking the stairs.

“I’m sorry I made you come all the way here, but you should go-” You stared at the hand wrapped around your wrist that pulled you closer until you stumbled forward.

“Don’t do that.”

You chuckled viciously, a sound that bruised him. “Sorry I’m not really in the mood to have sex right now.”

“You know that’s not what I’m here for.” Suna started to be visibly frustrated, or at least you thought so by the strength with which he was gripping the pole behind you.

“Then why are you here? That’s all we’ve ever done, Suna,” the name rolled off your tongue awkwardly, and as distasteful as it was for you, his flinch made it clear that he disliked it even more. The elevator doors opened and you walked out, straight to your apartment with the hopes that he’d stay behind.

“Oh, so now we’re back to the last-name basis?” You felt him right behind you, his heavy breathing audible.

“I’m sorry, okay?” You half-assed the apology as you struggled with your keys, the slight shake in your hands slowing you down.

After stepping inside, you turned just in time to see his shake head.

“Why are you being like this all of a sudden?”

Your eyes rolled back at his indifference. How could he be so dense? Was he feigning innocence like this was a game to the both of you? It may have been for him, but not for you.

“I don’t know!” A step towards him and you were already too close. You felt claustrophobic from the way he hovered above you. “Maybe because I feel fucking stupid? I know there’s nothing between us, I’m well aware,” the laugh that formed in your throat was bitter, yet it didn’t compare to the tightening of your chest. “But this just isn’t what I want anymore.”

Suna looked at you as if you had gone insane, unaware of the slight craze in his amber eyes. “What do you want?” He grabbed onto the door, stepping forward until he had cleared his way inside.

“Not this, not whatever you want out of me.”

The grin on his face, unlike his usual striking ones, branded an emotion he had never worn before. “Which is?”

“Making you cum while you’re high, apparently,” you sneered back, tearing his hand away from the door.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Suna gritted through his teeth, slamming the door shut. You groaned, debating how hard you would have to smack his head with your backpack to give him a concussion.

“Oh, am I? You said so yourself.”

“You’re twisting my words,” he pointed his finger at you accusingly, fuming with every breath.

“How so?” This time you didn’t back off. Instead, you hit his chest, resisting the urge to claw at it so he’d at least keep a distance. “If you care to explain, go right ahead!”

“I never said that’s all I want,” his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to keep calm, which was turning out difficult for the both of you.

“Right, because only seeing you after you've smoked wasn’t enough of a message. I don’t even see you throughout the day!”

“How is that only my fault? You never told me you wanted something else, and you were as happy to fuck as I was whenever I knocked on your door.” You could only scoff at his words, amazed he could even dare to try and blame you.

“You know damn well this isn’t on me. I'm not the unavailable one, I'm not the one that's always gone until it's convenient. I'm not the one who barges in and acts like they own me, or did you forget about that already?” You had begun to scream out without realizing, but the rage you felt burning through the cracks of your heart was urging to be released.

Suna stood there quietly, staring at you with distant eyes, like he was too busy making sense of his own thoughts to even mind yours. When the clock ticked away and he had still not spoken a word, you inhaled, bracing yourself.

“Listen, this was nice. And I’d like to stay as a friend, so let’s just leave it at this. If you had plainly admitted that all you ever wanted was sex, I would’be been slightly better now.” The words were calculated and detached as you held onto the sleeves of your cardigan.

“You’re not fucking getting it, it’s not just the sex that I want,” Suna finally mumbled, but your hand was already placed on the knob.

“Well it's all you ever cared to ask for.” You opened the door and stepped away, unable to look anywhere but at the floor.

“When I said I didn't wanna leave you, I didn't mean- I meant…” each word was a separate struggle, and you lacked the strength to bear it any longer.

“What did you mean, Rintaro?” You only offered a tired smile as he stood there once again like a fish out of water. A silent challenge he never took on.

It only took you a few seconds to decide to push him from behind towards the door. You were angry, and heartbroken, and definitely not okay, but something like this was not worth losing him over. Despite everything, he had been a great friend before.

“Have a good night,” and with that, you spelled away the image of the tall brunette you came to adore.

You were still dripping from your long shower, the robe you wore doing little to collect the water before it hit the floor. It was early afternoon, not even 24 hours after the fight, yet it felt like an eternity had passed. You hadn’t heard from Suna at all, and a part of you wondered if you would soon or if he would disappear for a while. Shaking the thoughts away, you walked over to the kitchen to grab a drink when the doorbell rang. You frowned, scrambling your brain for anything your friends had said about coming over, but you were sure none had the plans to visit. The moment you opened the door, the scent of musk and ginger washed over you.

“Please don’t shut the door on me, you seem to have taken a liking to it,” he blabbered out as soon as your eyes met. You hesitated, shifting your weight on your feet.

“What are you doing here?”

“Give me a chance?” You frowned, scanning his face for ulterior motives but all you found was honesty. Despite it, your stomach sank at the sight. Though you didn’t know if you had wanted to see him or not, you wouldn’t have imagined it would be this hard.

“Rin, really, what are you-” You couldn’t finish your sentence, too bewildered to properly speak. Another glance at his face told you he was sober - he even looked more put together than he usually did, though it looked like his volleyball uniform was under his outerwear.

“For someone who was so upset, you should at least give me the opportunity,” he joked tediously, ignoring the dense air that had formed between you two.

His smile was rueful, and genuine from what you could see. “Just...let me do this properly. Dress up and let’s go to my game,” he announced, hints of timidity teetering his voice.

You simply gazed at him, lips forming a thin line. “What are you doing? Just- what are you planning?”

“Nothing!” He swallowed down, raising up the hand that was holding two bags. You raised an eyebrow at it, unamused. “Here, I got you something.”

Receiving it from his cold hands, you looked carefully into it before digging through it. “You’re joking,” you hissed, dangling the pink lingerie in front of his face.

He was smug, toying with you for his pleasure as always. You would have too if you had not been in this situation.

“It was a joke. That’s not...really what,” he quickly delved into the other bag, holding out a small, black box. You surveyed it before cocking your head, taking it from him and opening it. The necklace inside was pretty - beautiful, actually. But you didn’t want his money, you wanted him, which was likely a harder request. “It’s not gifts that I want, Rin,” you sighed, now painfully aware that he would never be something you could predict.

“I know that, angel. But I never treated you, or did something nice for you, and most guys do with, you know,” he trailed off, eyes darting away from your face.

“My problem is you only calling me when you’re high. That issue won’t be solved with gifts,” you massaged your temple, slowly becoming a mess as you tried to put the pieces together and figure out what he was doing.

“I’m not a damn addict, princess. It’s not all I fucking care about,” Suna swore as he leaned against the door frame.

“I know that! I never said you were, but you can’t just go from only giving me that to acting as if you actually want us to be something more. So tell me, how am I supposed to feel?” Though your voice nearly broke, you held onto the door - determined to at least stand your ground. You had been clear with him. You had specified you couldn’t do this anymore, so the least he could do is respect that.

His eyes narrowed for a moment, glimmering ever so briefly that you wondered if the change had been a figment of your imagination. “Listen— I've never,” his chest trembled with a breath before he continued. “I've never been in love with someone, alright? I don’t know how it fucking feels, and that was the last thing I planned on doing. And don’t get me wrong, I was hooked on you from the very beginning. But then suddenly you're the only person I’m attracted to,” Suna’s voice was uncharacteristically weak, threatening to crack at any moment. “And believe me it wasn’t for lack of trying, because while my dick was inside someone else, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to see you. And I didn’t- I don’t know how to process that, all that you fucking make me feel. I don’t even know if I want to process it at all, if I’m being sincere.” His lips lifted into a pained smile that didn’t reach his tormented eyes. “But when you ended that call, you sounded so hurt I panicked. And I don't have a plan, and I'm rambling, and this is probably the most I’ve ever said at once, but if I know something, it’s that I can't let it end here,” his throat bobbed but his steps to you were resolute. You almost turned away when his hands cupped your cheek, spanning the skin delicately.

You couldn’t find your voice for all it was worth. It was hard to tell whether your brain was working faster than your heart.

“You say that, but,” you jerked when you felt a tear trickling down your cheek. Suna’s fingers stuttered undecidedly, but his thumb wiped away the salty trail. “Assuming you truly felt that way, you never acted on it. Actually, you acted very differently,” you hiccuped, biting the inside of your cheek in shame.

“You want me to be honest with you? I feel like such a mess around you, like I might explode. It’s easier to deal with that in certain situations. Hence me restricting our time with each other to me being high,” Suna murmured, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was scared all the good I’d ever do for you is a nice fuck. What if that’s all I get until I mess up? You’ve got it so together and I’m here, not even able to talk about my stupid feelings.”

You gaped at his pale face: the beautiful carving of his features, the slight quavering of his bottom lip, the long eyelashes framing half-mast eyes.

“You mean that?”

He laughed at your simple question, likely expecting more after everything he had let out. You wanted to give him more, but you were unable to, still trapped in your fear that it would all be fake.

“I do. And I’m sure it can’t just be me who feels like this.” With a look at you, he pinched your cheek gently, looking for an answer.

“It’s not just you. Obviously,” you grumbled disapprovingly. It was pretty obvious to you, but he still smiled sweetly, the frenzy in his face slowly fading.

“I’ll probably miserably fail, but I at least wanna try. I wanna do this — with you. So please let me. And if it’s not enough for you even after that, then I won’t waste your time anymore. But give me the chance.” His hands lowered to your jaw and neck while he spoke the words, forcing you into a retreat.

“Rin, do you even know how relationships work?” You scoffed, quirking your eyebrows at the boy.

“Yes. No. In theory?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his response. He really was awfully cute sometimes.

You eyed his waist, reluctantly deciding to wrap your arms around it with a heavy sigh. “I’ll probably regret this and get my heart broken.”

“Hopefully it’s not your heart that gets broken,” Rin quickly added, looking down at your body with a sneaky grin. You glared at him, hiding away the smile on your lips.

“You know we have to like- go on dates. During the day and all?”

He nodded like this was a work interview and he was expecting the question.

“Okay, so get ready. Let’s go to my game,” he signaled over to your room given your bathrobe, but you could only stare at him cautiously.

“I mean it. Come cheer for me,” Rin leaned down to you with the whisper, reaching your eye level. You nodded, rushing to get dressed once he planted a kiss on your cheek.

“You know,” he started off casually, grabbing your hand. “I might’ve cried if you hadn’t come back with me.”

“Oh, really?” You smirked at him, curiosity filling you.

Swiftly noticing your mood shift, he explained. “Well I talked to some friends...for advice, or whatever. So if I had showed back alone, those two jerks would’ve never let me hear the end of it.”

He squeezed your hand as laughter soared through you, your free hand traveling to your abdomen when it began hurting. “Seriously?” You added when you managed to control the laughter, gaining a glare from Suna.

“Seriously.”

When your eyes had returned to the road ahead of you, he lifted your intertwined hands to his mouth, kissing the back of your palm.

“I’ll do this, so just don’t complain anymore okay?”

This was so long??? If you actually read all of it, THANK YOU LMAO. also sorry for the weird spaces sometimes, i like writing in docs so i don’t lose anything aha so it b weird sometimes idky. okay yeah thank you !!

art credit: damnzucoyy on tiktok

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

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

“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.

3K notes · View notes

ackerlert · 3 years

Text

Sneaky Link

Pairings: Porco x fem reader x sugar daddy!zeke

Summary: University reader becomes Zeke’s sugar baby after meeting each other at her work, which is a stripper, ofc. Eventually develops a relationship with Porco Galliard, of whom Zeke employs ;)

TW: alcohol usage, oral (m / f receiving), food (icing) play, mirror sex, phone sex

You needed some money during college, and tutoring stupid high schoolers wasn’t making the bills. Plus, you couldn’t put up with their slowness one second longer.

When Sasha took you out for a night at the strip club to relieve some stress, her joke that you could always make bank shaking your ass for old men actually sounded quite appealing. It was a lot more fun than tutoring, anyways.

Out of curiosity, you found yourself browsing the internet for openings at nearby nightclubs. Soon you were watching YouTube videos of strippers going through their daily routine, counting their tips, and describing their success in the industry. You were hooked.

You ask Hitch to take pole dancing lessons with you, and she doesn't suspect any of your true intentions, since this was on your bucket list of things to do together.

Soon you secured yourself a job at a local strip club. The first person you confided in was, unsurprisingly, Hitch. She was surprised you actually pursued being a stripper, but the shock didn't really last for long considering her knowledge of your freaky tendencies.

Hitch advised you to be careful, and she was particularly worried about how you would manage to fit this new job into your tight school schedule.

It was simple: you would take your classes, do your assignments, and report to your job at night. You’d work through the closing shift and get back to your shared apartment with Mikasa, Sasha, and Hitch sometime past 2am.

Zeke is a regular.

He gives you larger tips than any of the other girls.

He even pays for private sessions, which consist of you dancing for him mostly an hour at a time.

Eventually you two fuck it out in a booth of the club.

He asks if you'd like to “do this again sometime”. Naturally, you agreed. He exchanges phone numbers with you and asks for your cashapp.

Blushing because you didn't realize he intended on compensating you for your arrangement, you agree to give him your account number.

You and Zeke continue this for a couple months, growing more addicted to the orgasms he gives you every time.

You had two generous sources of income now.

You found out a lot about zeke: he owned a decently large company, fucked a lot of women before he met you, and he was even more freaky than yourself.

One day after a session with Zeke, you're sprawled out on the side of his bed, toying with the golden hair that trailed down his torso, and staring up at the ceiling, mind completely fucked out.

“I have a business event coming up soon,” Zeke states.

You hum in approval, not expecting zeke to continue on.

“It’s plus one.” He pauses, “I was wondering if you would like to join me.”

You turn your head to look at Zeke, almost asking him to repeat himself. Was this like a date thing?

Zeke turned to look at you too. His eyes glossed over at the sight of your surprised face and post-sex hair floating around the crown of your head. He smirked, visualizing the way he had made that sex hair. Gripping your h/c locks and pulling your head back, pounding into you from behind.

Your lips were swollen from being stretched around his thick cock, making him cum round after round. Now they were parted, unsure as what to make of his question.

Zeke repeated himself, “Are you free next Saturday?”

“Y-yes. I’m free.” You said, “I would love to go to your work thing with you.” A smile graced your lips. He fucking loved that smile. Loved seeing it bloom on your face when your eyes rolled to the back of your head, begging to take more of his cock.

“Alright,” he grabbed for his phone, pulling up the information from his calendar. Your phone dinged, no doubt zeke sending you over the event details. “It’s formal attire. Do you need to buy something to wear?” He glanced up lovingly from the screen at you for a mere second. “Fuck it, never mind that.” His eyes reconcentrated back onto the phone. Your phone dinged again, the familiar melody of the cashapp notification filling your ears.

“Let’s take you shopping, princess.” His legs swung over the side of the bed. A back completely full of endless scratches faced you while he stretched those long arms of his. His back muscles rippled as he did so, the sight making your stomach flutter with butterflies.

“Wait!” You say desperately and propping yourself up on the bed. You didn't intend on opening your mouth, but now you had to commit to it.

Zeke side glanced at you, acknowledging your pathetic request.

“Let me suck you off one more time,” you said. You added, “before we go.” A husky chuckle escaped from zeke’s throat. “Such a slut for me.” “What a good girl, knowing just the way to make me hard.”

Porco and you meet each other at the business event, it’s an instant click. He’s employed by Zeke. Soon you're exchanging numbers with him.

These business parties became more frequent with Zeke. And every time, Porco was there. You two would sneak off to help yourself to drinks while Zeke was bombarded with potential buyers inquiring about his product.

Porco makes you laugh so much. Honestly, it’s probably the alcohol, but every joke he cracked earned a cute giggle from you. It only made him harder for you than he already was.

“I could go a lot longer than him, you know.” He whispers in your ear.

Sooner than later you’re texting Zeke that the alcohol was killing your stomach, and you just had to get out of there right away.

Porco didn’t wait to stick his strong hands in your pants when you tumbled into the taxi.

“Gonna take you away from that old man’s dick, yeah baby? Give you this big cock like you deserve?”

You make it back to his large apartment, practically humping his clothed leg on the elevator ride.

By the time you’re inside his place, your panties are soaked and the black lace Zeke bought you is falling from your shoulders.

Porco throws you on the bed, not leaving you any time to remove your heels.

He climbs over you and just starts completely obliterating you with open mouthed kisses across your collarbone.

You don't fail to notice the mirror above Porco’s large bed, seeing the way he straddles over your small body.

Porco sits up from his position on the end of the bed and grabs for your ankles, yanking you closer to him. Just as he hums into your folds, a buzzing emerges from your purse in the middle of the living room.

“Shit,” you say, recognizing the pattern as Zeke’s contact. “It’s Zeke,” you groan.

“Answer the phone, pretty girl.” Porco says with a devilish smirk.

“Wha-?!” Your face fills with terror.

“I said answer the phone.” Porco grows stricter in tone.

“O-ok” your hands shake as you make your way across the floor to where your purse was.” As you accept the call, Porco motions you back to the bed.

You nod, doing as he says.

“Hey princess,” Zeke says with a smile on the end of the phone.

“Hi,” you say shakily. Porco gives you a menacing look.

“Not feeling good?” Zeke refers to your text.

You let out a shy “Nuh-uh” in response.

“I’m sorry baby,” Zeke says, “I can pick you up so you can spend the night with me in case you feel any worse.”

“No!-“ You say startled, “I mean, no, my girlfriends have me all bundled up back at my apartment.”

Silence from Zeke.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad.” He adds, “I wanted to make you feel a little better than they could tonight.”

You look at Porco, a little intimidated by his intense stare on you. He can hear Zeke’s toying with you from the other end of the phone. He nods, urging you to play along.

You giggle softly, a bad attempt at sounding sicker than usual.

“Really? How so?” Porco slides down the edge of the bed, focused on your legs.

Zeke clears his throat, obviously getting off at the anticipation of phone sex.

Some shuffling is heard on the other end of the phone before Zeke says, “You know, maybe cook you some food. That layered strawberry cake you like yeah?”

You hum in satisfaction, but quickly noticed how your approval angered Porco.

He aggressively pushes your legs apart, eyeing your wetness.

“Use that icing on you.” Zeke says, “Make you filthy when I run it over that pretty body of yours. I’d fucking lick it off you because you taste so good.”

Porco starts to kitten lick between your folds, earning a whimper from you.

You imagine Zeke piping the vanilla icing onto your torso as he pushes himself into you, smearing it across your breasts and stomach with his rough hands.

The pressure between your legs rises as the licks grow longer and rougher across your clit. Porco suckles on that bundle of nerves, and you can’t help but cry out a moan.

The sounds from Zeke’s side of the phone indicate he’s jerking off vigorously at this point. “Say my name, kitten.”

You look wildly down at Porco, who stops his motions to shake his head at you. No way he’d let you moan another man’s name on his own bed.

“Daddy,,” you drawl out. You earn approval from Porco, who resumes lapping at your pussy.

Porco taps your thigh, indicating to you that it was time to hang up on Zeke, who hadn’t cum yet.

“Oh gosh, Zeke baby” you start, “One of the girls is coming in i have to go-“

“Wait, y/n-“ but you didn't let him finish. You sigh with relief knowing you can fully indulge in Porco now. He grips your thighs roughly, leaving bruises to be discovered tomorrow.

“What’s Zeke doing now, huh?” “Pumping his weak cock thinking about this tight little pussy of yours?” “I wonder what he’d think if he knew your pussy was taking my tongue so well right now. Acting like such a whore for somebody else.”

Porco pulls himself off of your sweaty body, panting and licking up your wetness.

His eyes are dead set on you, and you felt small under his glare. His hands grab under your arms, quickly flipping your positions. “Bounce on me for it,” he growls.

You nod eagerly, situating yourself above him. Your face reddens as you align your entrance up to him, nervous about his judgement.

Porco softens, noticing your hesitance, “It’s okay baby girl,” His warm hands caress the side of your cheek, thumb grazing your plump lips, “You’re doing really good,” Porco looks earnestly up at you, flashing you a soft grin. You press into his hold on you, strands of hair covering your forehead that tangled around Porco’s fingers.

You finally push yourself down on Porco’s length, his large girth stretching you full. Porco moans at the new feeling, and you can’t help but whimper at the burning pleasure. Your hands roam around Porco’s strong torso, feeling down his thick abs and rubbing circles into his sides. A low groan emits from his chest, and you admire his expressions from above.

You begin moving along his hard length, his tip hitting just the right spot each time. Keeping a slow pace, you tease Porco a little longer, but he’s quick to bark at you to go faster. You let out a playful giggle, “Okay, you’re the boss.” “Doing so good putting Zeke in his place, hm?”

Porco groans at your words, and you swore he was growing larger inside of you at the thought of demoting his Zeke.

Your movements quicken and Porco continues to let out strings of curses.

“Yeah ride my cock baby, just like that. Just like you do for Zeke.”

The thought of another man puts butterflies in your stomach, and you feel yourself falter.

Porco doesn’t miss a beat, however. He quickly thrusts up into you, earning a gasp from your mouth. His hands fly to your sides, balancing you while he does all the work. You whimper at his rapid pace, nearing your climax.

“Porco,” you moan, “I-ah, g’nna cum.”

“Ok, baby,” he says in between thrusts, “Cum then.”

That was all you needed to hear before spilling your release over Porco.

He continued to milk you out, eventually finishing not too long after. He lets you fall on top of his frame, palms rubbing circles into your and easing you from your high.

“Good job, y/n.” You lift your head up to look at Porco’s face. He smiles back at you tenderly. “Alright let’s clean you up.”

He settles you on the bed next to his side and slides off the bed to grab a clean towel from the linen closet and discard the condom in the trash. You watch his muscle-y body move across the apartment floors, his clear focus on grabbing the right things for you.

He comes back with an iced water and starts cleaning up your thighs.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you smile, “I can do it myself.”

He looks up at you, eyebrows screwed up in confusion, “What? No, I’m doing it.” He continues his work at cleaning you off.

“..oh, ok.” You say shyly, butterflies in your stomach from his actions.

“Does he not do this for you?” Porco asks, not looking up from fixing up the sheets below you.

You replied slowly, “No, not really.”

Porco sighed, “He’s such a selfish dick.”

You laugh at Porco’s attitude. But now that you think about it, Zeke was always thinking about himself. The thought passed as soon as it came, and you did consider the fact that he was paying you.

Porco nestled himself on the side of you after he was done, grunting a little from his tired state. His big arms hugged around your smaller body as he pulled you in close.

“Porco?” You called.

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” you muffled into his chest.

Porco blushed at your comment, but simply toughed it over and patted your ruffled hair, “Mhm”.

A few pings were heard from your cell phone as you drifted into sleep, no doubt from Zeke, and each time Porco pulled you in tighter. A smile curled crept onto your lips, “It’s not like I’m gonna leave, Pokko,” you giggled.

“Good,” he said, “I wasn’t planning on letting you anyways.”

#zeke jeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager #zeke yaeger #zeke #zeke smut #zeke x reader #porco galliard #porco #attack on titan porco #attack on titan zeke #porco smut #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kiyojin #snk #attack on titan smut #aot smut

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a-funny-little-sunflower · 3 years

Text

Yandere Elves stuck in Mandos Au Part 1

In this Au, our lovely Yandere Elves are now in Mandos domain, some are there for longer than others but the thing to remember is that they are currently unable to leave, but it is possible to break out, but keep in mind that this is an incredibly difficult feat. So, unless they manage to escape, they are unable to see their darling, and because these elves are Yandere’s, this face upsets them incredibly.

The elves that are currently being kept in Mandos is Feanor, Fingolfin, Celegorm, Fingon, Glorfindel, Finwe, Maedhros, Maglor and many more! Requests are open for more elves so don’t be afraid to ask! They don’t even have to be canonically in Mandos.

So, because of this, misbehaviour in Mandos began to run rampant and arguments, as well as physical fighting, broke out easily.

Now, Mandos decided that he needed to find a way to stop this, so he set up a reward system to keep the elves in check. One of the first few things put in place was the production of pictures in the likeness of the elves s/o. The reward system was simple, if you behave well, you get pictures of your s/o.

The pictures quickly became a hot commodity in Mandos. Can't see your darling? Pull out that photo and try not to get anything on it.

However, some of the elves decided that a simple picture of their s/o was much too common of a thing to have, and the more elite elvish residence of Mandos decided to commission portraits of their s/o. That way, they could have control over what position their s/o was in or what level of clothing they were in.

However, not everyone can afford such high price portraits and so Mandos decided that he would start offering a catalogue of care packages! These care packages can vary but the cheapest one usually consists of a small magazine similar to a playboy one, except, it’s all hand-painted pictures of the s/o.

As well as that they usually have a recording of the s/o’s voice, a fleshlight, a plant that allows the owner to have more realistic and lifelike dreams of their s/o and an article of clothing belonging to their s/o. The more expensive the care package is, the more things are included.

When it comes to the making of said portraits, no one wants to be the painter for Feanor's s/o. He's already got a critical eye before Yandereness. Can you imagine if you mess up her face or something like that? If you mess up a single feature of his beloved, he's gonna mess up your entire bodily anatomy.

However, Mandos sees the potential to expand the lines of communication once more. Mandos has recently installed a Palantir so that the Elves can communicate with their s/o’s. Some of the families even have Palantir in their quarters.

Palantir’s are used for facetime or sending messages to s/o. The Palantir glows in preparation for an incoming message, and it’s even possible to send ‘gifts’ or audios with the Palantir. However, there aren’t enough Palantir’s for everybody. They are normally used by the elite, like princes or elven lords. But Mandos has to decide who gets them since there's a limited quantity.

The problems about the Palantir’s starts when there isn't enough and Feanor keeps hogging all the airtime. This leads Fingolfin to confront Feanor by saying, “stop hogging the Palantir, I want to talk to my s/o too!”, which quickly develops into pushing and shoving.

Eventually, the solution they came to at council is that Feanor will be last in line to use it due to his offences of hogging airtime. If he tries to go before his turn, the Palantir will not respond to him and not send his messages, it acts as a phone without service.

(A more detailed post on the Palantir is coming soon!)

When you are unwilling to send gifts in the beginning, each of the elves reacts differently.

Some Yandere have no shame and will outright demand audios or pictures of you, but this rudeness causes Mandos to hover over them and threaten to take the Palantir away, causing the elf in question to get bitchy and glare at Mandos.

In retaliation, Mandos would snatch the Palantir, and nobody gets it. He puts it on a high shelf in his office...Which results in the elves getting on each other’s shoulders to get at it.

Eventually, Mandos decided that he will allow visitors in, which means that the elves finally get to see their s/o! In advance, Mandos set up a system that goes as follows. If you were on good behaviour, you get these rewards:

•You get to see your s/o.

•You get a calendar to mark down the days until the next visit.

•You get more time to rail the reader.

•The ability to send their s/o letters and being allowed to have pictures and painting of their s/o in their room.

Feanor’s s/o doesn’t want to visit him at first, but eventually, they are forced to go because Feanor isn't behaving and Mandos is tired of it. So, they sent Eonwe to retrieve them.

Feanor would be a combination of happy yet disappointed if s/o had to bring to Mandos by force to visit him. He would be happy that you're there but when finds out that you were forced on him, he would feel so hurt.

When visiting finally does begin, it's utter madness. Mandos would have chains over the door whenever the reader comes to visit, especially if they are visiting Feanor. Mandos is very happy about you being there because Feanor is always on good behaviour whenever you’re there. As well as that, Feanor would rail the reader for hours on end when they come to visit.

When it comes to Fingolfin, he would be tamer if his s/o were to visit him. He understands that he just died, and they've been separated, so he’s willing to wait a while, or at least, after the 2nd or 3rd visit...then he just wants to rail his s/o and be warned, Fingolfin will make it so you can’t walk for a while.

Some Yanderes like Celegorm would try to keep their s/o with them in Mandos for longer by wearing out their legs. Glorfindel will just tie you to the bed to keep you there. However, there would be some Yandere like Fingolfin and Fingon who might let you go but the thought of you all to themselves might be too tempting.

When it comes to making excuses for not visiting, there are many different ways to go about doing it.

Say you had an argument with your yandere, and you decide to punish them by not coming back for a visit, you could do that, but then the elf might act up and Mandos would bring you back by force.

If you make the excuse that you’ve been sick, you better get ready for puppy eyes, tears and begging you not to leave when you finally do come to visit.

If you use the “I’m pregnant” excuse with Celegorm to explain why you haven’t or won't visit, he will break out to come to see you. Also, if you are telling the truth about being pregnant when you finally give birth and come to visit again, Celegorm would put his dick inside you from behind while you breastfeed your child.

If you and Feanor or Celegorm have had a baby, they would be expecting to see their child on visits, and they will also want for you to stay for longer so they can have more family time.

Now when it comes to leaving, your yandere doesn’t want you to go so they may try to trap you there. Now you could try to plead with Mandos to help you leave but he might just keep her there to save himself the trouble of having to deal with a misbehaving yandere.

However, the s/o can leave if they're fast enough. By that I mean, if they can get to the gates before the hourglass runs out, they can go home but that includes running across the hall with fluids dripping out. As well as that, their legs would be aching because of how much their yandere had railed them.

But say you do manage to escape, the yandere’s only source of contact with you will be by using the Palantir, and as soon as they’ve realised that you’ve escaped, they will be demanding that you send them audios, pictures, the works.

However, you may be unwilling to send pictures of yourself, so you may decide to send fake pictures, and by that, I mean, sending a picture of someone else, for example, a picture of the famous porn actress Belle Delphine could be used.

If you sent a fake picture to Feanor, he would immediately be like “Who is this? This isn’t you; her chest is lopsided, and her body is unproportionate!” He would then proceed to demand Mandos return that picture, even though Feanor already used his weekly time at the Palantir.

With Fingolfin, the only time he gets pissed is when he doesn't get his visits from s/o or if he gets pictures of Belle Delphine. He doesn’t want those; he wants audios of his s/o in the millions. (I’m serious, he’s pulled a dagger on Mandos and demanded hours’ worth of audios of you touching yourself before.)

If you constantly make excuses to not see Fingolfin, he will break into Rivendell and bring a vibrator with him. You can try to run from him, but Fingolfin is already chasing you throughout Rivendell.

This man would be full feral at this point, he hasn't had you in God knows how long so the second he grabs you; he’ll take you to the floor to rail you. Doesn't matter if you're in public or not.

(After this incident, Elrond and Erestor make the place of limits. So, because of this, a black market of bribery emerges. Erestor takes bribes of books and silence in his library.)

When sending things to Finwe, his preference is breast pictures or pictures of your face on the brink of orgasm. If you think playing play dumb will work with him, and decide to say, “What's an orgasm?” jokes on you, he has a corruption kink, and it turns him on when you pretend not to know what he's talking about.

If you didn’t send Finrod any goods it would upset him because he thought that you loved him and would want him to be a part of everything, and he thought that you loved him enough to send such photos.

On the unlikely occasion that a Palantir ends up sending your nude picture to another elf on accident, if that elf teases the Yandere, or says that they enjoyed the picture, they're gonna wind up dead.

Now eventually, the elves are allowed to leave Mandos. After leaving Mandos, all this portrait and audio business would be something that the elves never discuss. Everyone knows that they did it, but no one talks about it, if it’s even hinted at in public every elf in the vicinity freezes.

At least until Mandos starts expanding his services….

You see, Mandos realised the potential of his reward system and the thought eventually hit him. Why not expand?

So, in short, Mandos has become the Hugh Hefner of middle earth. It all started as a reward system. Now they’re expanding their services to living people. Hey, you're on guard duty in Lothlorien or fighting orcs in Rivendell? Well go to your local Palantir and order a portrait of your s/o. They have a Maiar deliver it straight to you, and if you're royalty, one of Manwe's eagles will have it delivered to you.

He even has bargains, like you know those 75% per cent off Bath and Bodyworks sale? Mando’s would so do that. Like 75% discount on catalogues and portraits.

Every 100 years or so Mando’s would clear out all the portraits and put them in catalogues. He would sell them to humans since it would seem new to them. Therefore, Mando’s saves money on making new material.

A quote from Mandos:

A Maiar: Is this even allowed?

Mandos: Don't care. I got a business to run.

#Yandere Silmarillion #Yandere Silmarillion x reader #Yandere Silmarillion x reader headcanons #yandere celegorm x reader #yandere maedhros x reader #yandere glorfindel x reader #yandere fingolfin #yandere fingon x reader #yandere feanor x reader #yandere finwe x reader

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thefactsofthematter · 3 years

Note

hi bestie <3 you said send in some requests, so i'm suggesting:

javid with, "it's not okay! you're not fine!"?

i hope you have a good day !!!

hi bestie <333 i had so much fun with this, i haven't done a short little fic in ages!! here's a 2.7k javid fic - a college au and a classic (emotional) hurt/comfort type deal, heavy on the comfort ;)

"Wanna come for dinner at my parents' house tonight?"

Davey is laying on Jack's couch after his last class of the day, since Jack's apartment is just off campus, and it's a ridiculously convenient place to go nap after a long day of school. He honestly spends more time here than at his own apartment that he shares with his sister, a short train ride away.

"I'd love to," Jack replies, his gaze still glued to his computer screen, "but I totally forgot I have an art history paper due at midnight, analyzing a painting, and I haven't started. It needs to be ten pages, and I don't even have an outline. I'm gonna sit here and write until my eyeballs fall out."

Davey laughs softly.

"That sucks. Do you at least have some research done?"

Jack turns to him with completely dead eyes.

"Not a single academic source."

Davey glances at the clock. Jack has seven hours to pull this off, which is doable, but... intense. It would've been a lot easier to spread it out over a few afternoons, and it'll be a painful squeeze to get ten comprehensible pages of writing done tonight. Jack can write decently fast, but his spelling and grammar are atrocious, so he'll have to factor in editing time too. Davey is not envious of these circumstances in the slightest.

"Shit. Good luck. That sounds awful, but I'm rooting for you. What's your prof's late assignment policy?"

Jack, entirely beaten down, leans forward to rest his forehead on his keyboard.

"He won't accept them past the due date without a good reason... which I don't have. I'm just an idiot and forgot to put it in my planner— thank god Romeo texted me today to ask if I was done."

Davey pushes himself up and walks over to where Jack is sitting at his little dining table, under the constantly-flickering fluorescent bulb. He wraps his arms around Jack's shoulders and kisses the back of his neck.

"You got this. I'll come back here after dinner and bring you leftovers, okay? My mom's gonna be sad you couldn't make it, so she'll totally pack up a plate for you."

"You don't have to come all the way here," Jack sighs. "Your place is closer to your parents, and this is out of your way— you have work in the morning anyways, so you should go home and go to bed. I'll be fine, I'll probably write faster alone anyways."

Davey kisses him again, this time leaning around to plant one on his cheek.

"If you're sure." Jack's plan is probably the smart move, since Davey's shifts at his stupid coffee shop job start ridiculously early, and coming here would mean staying up with Jack until he finishes, probably distracting him. "In that case, I'll see you tomorrow after work, and I'll bring the food then... keep me posted about the paper, text me when you finish. And make sure you eat something."

Jack turns back to look at him with a strained, stressed attempt at a smile.

"For sure. Go have a nice time with your family, and tell everyone I say hi."

"Aba, you're doing it wrong. You have to use your left arm."

It's getting late in the evening, dinner has been eaten, and Les is trying to coordinate the family to make a TikTok with him. It's not exactly going well.

"My left or your left?"

"It doesn't matter, we have the same left!"

Davey has thankfully been placed in the back row, both because he's tall and lanky, and because he's so uncoordinated that Mom used to make you wear one of those leash backpacks as a kid to keep you from wandering into traffic... which is true, but Davey isn't sure why Les even knows about that. He certainly wasn't around yet when that was the case, so he probably heard it from Sarah.

While Les tries once again to explain how this little dance is supposed to work, Davey's phone starts to buzz in his pocket. It's probably a spam call, but he's not particularly invested in the dance lesson so he pulls it out to check.

Incoming call: cowboy babyy 💖🤠

Davey frowns. Jack never calls him. It's always texts or voice memos, since he's got some kind of weird aversion to talking on the phone. If he's calling, it must be important.

"Hi babe," he says, pressing his phone to his ear and walking off to his old bedroom to get some quiet, while Les shouts at him in the background for not taking this seriously. "How's the homework going?"

Jack is quiet for a second too long as Davey toes the door shut.

"...Not great. I'm really frustrated." He pauses and sniffles a little, sounding almost like he's holding back tears. "I don't know why I called you while you're having a good time with your family, though. I shouldn't be bugging you."

"Hey," Davey breathes, "you're not bugging me at all, sweetheart. Is the paper not going well?"

"I just... I'm so bad at writing, and I don't know what I'm talking about, and I have no idea how I'm gonna get this done in time." His voice is shaking, and it's breaking Davey's heart a little. "I'm being dramatic, though. I just need to keep working on it."

Davey sits down on the edge of what's now a guest bed, his old outer space-themed comforter replaced with something more neutral.

"You're not dramatic, it's okay to be upset. Do you want me to come over and help?"

Jack's breath hitches softly, and it confirms that he's almost definitely crying.

"You don't have to, you're busy with your folks. I'm sorry for calling." He shudders a little as he must try to take a deep breath. "It's okay... I'm fine."

Davey sighs, almost exasperated with Jack's self-sacrificial sense of pride. He'll never ask for anything for himself, not wanting anyone to go out of their way for him, even when he seems to be having a panic attack of sorts.

"It's not okay; you're clearly not fine, Jackie," he replies. "We already ate, and I'm not busy. If you want me to come over, I'll be there... do you?"

Jack is quiet for a moment again, taking a deep, shaky breath.

"Yeah. I do."

Davey nods, though Jack can't see him.

"Okay. I want you to take a little break from writing until I get there, alright? Change into your pyjamas and have a glass of water. Try to relax a little."

"Okay... thanks Davey."

The call ends, and Davey rejoins his family while tucking his phone away in his pocket.

"I have to go." He kisses his mother on the head as he walks by. "Thanks for dinner, Ima."

"Is everything okay?" she asks, catching him gently by the elbow before he can get too far.

"Yeah..." he sighs. "Jack's just having a hard time with homework, I'm gonna go help him out."

His father ruffles his hair and gives him a quick hug.

"You're a good boy, David. Take him those leftovers— your mother's cooking can fix anything."

"For sure. I'll see you guys next weekend, and I'll try to bring Jack along then."

He waves goodbye to Sarah and Les, grabs the dish of food, and then sets off on a speed-walk to the nearest subway station.

Jack is sitting on the couch when he arrives, his knees pulled to his chest, looking very soft and cozy in pyjama pants and one of Davey's old hoodies from some baseball tournament. He's staring into space, and he hardly even moves to acknowledge Davey's presence when he walks in.

"Hey darling." Davey leaves the dish of food on the counter and crouches down in front of Jack to try and catch his eye-line. He carefully takes Jack's hands in his own. "Hanging in there?"

Jack finally looks at him and nods, but as he blinks, more tears slip out and roll down his cheeks.

"I'm only done two pages," he mumbles, practically whispering. "I don't know why it's so hard, but I just can't do it."

"Oh, Jackie..." Davey reaches up to wipe Jack's tears, cupping his face gently with both hands. "Hey, you still have three hours, right?" Jack nods. "That's lots of time. We're gonna figure this out... let's just sit here and calm down a little first. It's gonna be okay."

He climbs up onto the couch to pull Jack into a hug, and the moment he's settled, Jack wraps his arms around him and breaks, sobbing into his shoulder. Davey cards his fingers through his hair and rubs his back; he's never seen Jack this distraught, especially not over homework. There's a good chance the problem runs a lot deeper, and stressing over an assignment was simply the last straw.

"You're alright," Davey continues, since talking is what he does best, even in moments like this. Jack is shaking with the force of his tears, breathing so hard Davey worries he might hyperventilate. "Listen, it's just one assignment, my love... if you get a bad grade, or if we don't finish in time, we can deal with that. We'll hand in whatever we finish tonight, so at least you won't get a zero. Worst case scenario, you retake this class in the spring... even that doesn't sound so bad, does it? I know you could handle it, if that's what happens."

Jack nods a little, but his tears don't stop.

"I'm so tired of being stupid," he hiccups, after a long while. "I keep getting distracted, and I can't word things right, and I spell everything wrong, and- and maybe I should just drop out, because I'm clearly not meant to be doing this."

"Baby..." Davey sighs, giving him a gentle kiss on the temple. "You're so intelligent, Jack. You're almost done your degree— after this term, you've only got one year left, and it's not like you do poorly in your classes, is it? Even when it's something hard for you, like writing, you always do well when you put in the work. What did you get on your sociology paper a couple weeks ago?"

"Ninety percent," Jack mumbles, muffled by the way he's speaking into Davey's shoulder. "But I spent so long on it, and you edited it for me. I'm gonna fail this one. I can't do it in one night, and I can't write papers without your help."

"Well, I'm here to help now, aren't I?" He rests his hand midway through brushing it through Jack's hair and scratches his scalp gently, which makes Jack shiver and laugh quietly through his tears. "Right? And you can write, darling— all I do is fix up the spelling and grammar for you. The ideas and words are all you, just like when you give presentations and knock it out of the park every time. I sure can't do that."

Jack finally looks up at him.

"Yes you can. You get nervous beforehand, but when you do a presentation, it's always really good."

Davey smiles at him, now that they're actually looking at each other.

"It's hard for me, though. Just like writing is for you— but with lots of effort, you're really good at it. See my point?"

Slowly, a small smile spreads across Jack's teary-eyed face, and he nods. Davey feels rather accomplished with this development.

"I guess so." He wipes at his eyes and sighs. "Sorry about this. I'm such a mess."

"No apologies. I don't blame you for getting overwhelmed— you're in a tough spot here." He pulls Jack in for a quick kiss, which they both smile into. "I brought you dinner. Go heat it up when you're ready; I'll look over what you've written so far and see if I can come up with some more ideas to add on. We're gonna work together on it, okay? What painting did you choose?"

"The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew by Caravaggio," Jack sighs, looking almost forlornly at his computer on the table. "I have a lot to say about it, and lots of good stuff in my notes, but I just can't put it into paragraphs and sentences that make sense."

Davey nods, watching Jack as he stands up to go put the leftovers from Davey's family in the microwave.

"Well, I don't know anything about paintings, but if you talk me through it, I can help you put the actual paper together." He pauses as an idea dawns on him. "I'm gonna email your professor and ask about an extension— it might be a shot in the dark, but we should at least try. The worst he can do is say no."

"Sure," Jack replies from the kitchen, his voice still shaky. "He's a total hardass, though. Fingers crossed for a miracle."

Davey sits at the table, opens up Jack's email, and starts a draft.

Hi Professor Diaz,

Apologies for the short notice, but I'm wondering if it would be possible to have an extension on the analysis assignment, even if it's just by a few hours. I unfortunately mixed up some due dates in my planner, and I thought I had an extra week for this assignment; I only realized the mistake today, so I'm currently scrambling to get it done in time.

Would it be at all possible to turn it in a few hours late, just to have a bit more time to finish it up? I would really appreciate any amount of time you're willing to give me.

Thank you in advance for your understanding, Jack Kelly

He shrugs, sends it, and sincerely hopes a little professionalism and a decent (if slightly fabricated to make Jack look less forgetful) excuse will go a long way.

It's quarter to eleven, the paper is now five-and-a-half pages long, and Jack isn't crying anymore. He's in the zone, talking aloud about the painting while Davey helps him get his vague ideas into concrete sentences, and they're on track to have at least seven or eight pages by the time midnight rolls around— it might not get full marks, but it'll be better than nothing.

Jack's computer dings with the sound of a new email while they're taking a two-minute break— something they've interspersed every half hour, since Jack's focus is best in shorter bouts. He's in the middle of walking laps around the apartment to get his energy out and annoy his downstairs neighbours, but he scrambles back to the computer at the noise.

"We got a reply!" he shouts.

Davey is over on the couch, and he watches Jack's face closely as he opens the email. So far, so good... and then he slumps down in his chair in a show of what could either be defeat or relief. Davey can't quite tell, so he jumps up to go read it for himself.

Sure. Email it by 11:59pm tomorrow.

Sent from my iPhone

"Yes!" Davey shouts, grabbing Jack by the shoulders. "I told you it was worth a shot!"

Jack laughs, and then reaches up to pull Davey down for a kiss.

"You're the best, Jacobs. A fucking lifesaver." He rubs at his eyes, and then pushes his computer away, across the table. "I'll deal with this tomorrow. Let's just go to bed— you still have to be up early."

Right. Davey has a dreaded Saturday morning opening shift tomorrow— they open at five, and he has to be there well in advance to get set up, so he's got no chance at getting more than a few hours of sleep. He's going to be dead on his feet in the morning, probably fuck up a few coffee orders, but it'll be worth it to have helped Jack through tonight.

Poor Jack seems completely exhausted— as anyone would be after crying so hard earlier— so collapsing into bed after washing up quickly is an utter relief. Davey, despite being tall and long-limbed, greatly enjoys being the little spoon and Jack is happy to indulge him, so they curl into the familiar position.

"Thank you for everything tonight," Jack whispers, practically into Davey's ear. "I love you so much."

Davey smiles as his eyes fall shut, and he kisses Jack's knuckles softly, where his arm is wrapped around him.

"Any time, darling. I love you too."

#both my current projects are slow burns so an established relationship fic feels good #hope u enjoyed it!!!#javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #newsies fic #my writing

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qingxintea · 3 years

Text

➼ chongyun || hiraeth

tw: mention of knives (no violence), kidnapping, explosion _______

you angled your camera to catch your face and upper body correctly and adjusted your blinds for the correct lighting. you put thin pieces of yellow and pink paper over your lamp to give off a sunset lighting sort of aesthetic in your minimalist room. your tiny cacao tree sat in the corner of your room, setting some sort of simple beach vibe.

then, you began to stream.

you watched as majority of your followers came to view as you sat in your rolly gaming chair. the greetings came rushing in and you noticed two of your friends had came along too, xingqiu and chongyun.

"hey gang, it's kingexplosionmurder here with your weekly sunday stream," you smiled and watched as comments came in asking you to notice them. beginning to select randomly, you flicked a short strand of hair behind your ear. "you have been noticed, yourlocalsugardaddy," you blessed them. and you swore you chose randomly.

on the other side of the screen, chongyun's face slightly flushed before eating his popsicle again. yes, that was his username, selected by xingqiu after the guhua heir was somehow able to trick him into selecting so. the situation must've been that he accidentally consumed some jueyun chili's, that was also xingqiu's doing.

he watched you smile as you explained your schedule for this stream, when he noticed you suddenly began laughing. it sounded genuine, he wanted to believe it was genuine, but there was a trace of disappointment in it. he observed your face, noticing you were looking at the chat box. "i agree too, scarymoose."

scarymoose: this streamer's kinda dog shit ngl 😐

by instinct, his fingers grazed over the keyboard as he analyzed the tone. this kid wasn't joking around with himself, he was really out to bring you down. he exhaled, shaking his head, wondering how you would deal in the situation.

yourlocalsugardaddy: miss karen this isn't yelp 🙄

he wasn't content with that yet, things could've gone onto more serious matters, but he knew you liked to keep your chat clean and peaceful. you went to the farther extents to keep that from happening, agreeing with rude comments yourself as a said joke, but actually have it sometimes harming you.

so chongyun tried his best to keep you happy.

redrumreaper: yo moose chill 😳

he recognized his friend xingqiu also trying to calm the situation as you just laughed it off and attempted to continue, sooner enough just beginning to ignore all his comments. some other viewers came up to your defense but in all honesty, you wanted to move on.

"s-so, i found some silk flowers outside of wangshuu inn yesterday, aren't they pretty?" you took a tiny bouquet of the said silk flowers and presented it to your viewers, holding it next to your cheek. the pink tone of the flowers matched the color of your cheeks and made for a nice picture. chongyun would've screenshotted it, but he respected your privacy.

yourlocaldumba$$: yes they're so pretty we love you 😍

13lue13erry: yes ong ong 💕 thiccer than my granny

Straw13erry: don't bring madame ping into this 💀💀

colino: are you sure it's alright to take from someone's legally owned property ?? much less from their garden

Straw13erry: u mean ur neighbors don't harvest ur flowers every day? 🙄 privilege spoke 🤚

yourlocalsugardaddy: vv pretty 😳

redrumreaper: simp 💀

you slightly choked over on your side and xingqiu calling chongyun a simp, for you. quickly clearing your throat, you regained your composure. your viewers could see that your cheeks had been dusted with a darker shade now.

13lue13erry: 👀

Straw13erry: 👀

yourlocaldumba$$: 👀

redrumreaper: 👀

sireluck: 💀

bazinga: 👀

dandelionn: 👀

poetichoe: 👀

"okay- anyways," you pushed that aside, watching the chain of 👀's coming in. you weren't too sure at what they were referring to, but just assumed that they were interested in xingqiu exposing chongyun. but, there was no way chongyun really felt like that, right? it was just a friendly compliment from what you believed. "just a tiny flex but y'all guys, i am so cracked at apex, not gonna lie. for all the new followers out there," you randomly commented. 'and to change the subject.'

"actually, you know what? fuck the schedule, let's go to trolling little eight year old kids posting selfies on instagram. due to certain reasons i'm just not gonna be blurring their usernames out, but please don't spam these people, i don't wanna be cancelled 💗" you sweetly smiled as you pulled up instagram and started streaming on your phone.

of course your sus notifications ruined it 🤡🤡

because xingqiu took advantage of the situation, sending messages to your discord. nothing mentioning your romantic life because he knew better than that, but just trolling. 'HEY GANG. ITS ME, TONY, AND TODAY WE'RE GONNA SEE IF IM FASTER THAN THIS MOUSE TRAP.' 'TURNS OUT, I AM NOT FASTER THAN THIS MOUSE TRAP.' 'AN UPDATE, IT HURTS. ALRIGHT. BYE GUYS.' you tried hard to contain your laughter, but certain giggles came out in the end, giggles that made chongyun's heart flutter.

xingqiu just kept spamming without a stop, to the point that you accidentally clicked into the notification instead of someone's username on a selfie post. so now everyone could see your group chat with xingqiu, chongyun, and a few other viewers that were actually your other friends.

13lue13erry: oh no 🤡

Straw13erry: 🗿

yourlocaldumba$$: HAHAHAHA WE'RE EXPOSED 🤡👌

just water support boy 😔: image.png

oh my god he's sending chongyun catboy edits. you made this concerning noise, glad no one really seemed to know who chongyun really was on twitch. you went back to instagram, beginning to dm a random kid, ignoring the situation that had just happened.

chongyun choked, slight heat running to his cheeks. what the fuck was xingqiu doing- how did he even get those pictures? maybe it was that one time xingqiu forced him to go to a furry con, but how did he ever get the time to photograph these? he nervously fidgeted and played with his fingers.

13lue13erry: 🤡

Straw13erry: 🤡

yourlocaldumba$$: 🤡

redrumreaper: 🤡

<— oraoraoraor

kingexplosionmurder: chav check

oraoraoraor: what

kingexplosionmurder: chav: check 😹😹

oraoraoraor: bruh

oraoraoraor: who tf are you

kingexplosionmurder: hope you like baddies cause i'm bad at everything 💗

oraoraoraor: bruh ok i'm blocking