“You know I don’t like coffee?”

Patron commission for anon

Request: I was thinking a fem!vampire reader that works at a coffee shop and she has fallen in love with a werewolf customer, but he’s kinda oblivious and a bit of a himbo, and when she finally confesses he’s like…completely taken aback but not in a bad way? And if you feel like it sexy times, but I’m also open to serious fluffy stuff too…ummm the reader is chubby tho, like…I would really appreciate it if you keep it either neutral or make it apparent that the reader is short and chubs.

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Werewolf (name: Toby) x fem!vampire chubby reader || heavy make out, fluff, pretty much SFW || TW: internalized fatphobia (very light)

“Order for Toby!” You try not to get amused by his taken aback stand as he approaches you.

He always looks so confused when you call his name that you don’t even know why he comes here in the first place. You always have to bite down on your lip to avoid giggling when he takes the first sniff of his coffee. Coffee black, two sugars, one vanilla. Every evening he comes and asks for that, even though he clearly doesn’t like it. It amuses you how he clearly wants to order something else but ends up ordering “the same” everyday.

“Tha- thanks,” Toby’s stutter makes you smile at him, your fangs glistening under the fluorescent and catching his eye. He licks his lips predatory, like he’s savoring your smell in the air, but once again he doesn’t say anything, he just leaves.

You grunt at the next customer, getting angry at yourself for being hopeful that such a cute werewolf would give you the time of the day.

That’s why after a couple weeks writing down your number on his cup and not hearing back from him, you had enough and start getting your break when you know he’s going to show up. The first day you almost give up and get back to work when his soft tone asks for you. But you endure. He didn’t call you. He didn’t show interest in you. Maybe he just likes the way you make coffee (even though he frowns every time he picks it up).

But the third day he shows up in a different time, making you prepare his order the same way you always do, writing your number one last time on the bottom, always hopeful that this time would be the time. When he grabs his coffee, you tell your coworker you are taking a break, wanting to get far for him. He doesn’t let you. He follows you to the back room, your coworker not even caring that he does that.

He crowds against you in the tiny room, he’s so much taller than you that you have to look up when he asks: “Why are you avoiding me?” His tone is a bit hurt and you have to swallow your regrets, because this is his fault.

You press a finger against his chest, accusatory, when you ask back: “Why didn’t you call me?”

“What?” He looks completely confused, and you want to kiss his stupid face so much you have to press your long nails into your palms, the little pain bringing you back to reality.

“I’ve been leaving my number on your cup for weeks and you never called, but then you show up here everyday even though you don’t like coffee just to see me. I don’t get it. I don’t understand it,” you explain. You try not to sound hurt, but it permeates your voice either way. It did hurt, it hurt so much that he didn’t call any of the times you left him your phone number.

“You know I don’t like coffee?” He deadpans, making you even more angry at him, forgetting your pain at his rejection in order to look at him. If you were a cartoon character you’d have smoke coming out of your ears.

“That’s what you wanna focus on?!” You whisper-shout to him. He steps back, completely taken aback by your tone.

“I- Sorry. What?” He questions again, his puppy eyes making you want to melt.

You want to be mad at him, you want to be furious, but when you open your mouth what comes out is: “You don’t... You don’t like big girls, is that it?” You hate yourself a tiny bit for letting your insecurities get the best of you.

Toby’s face contorts in what feels like a caricature. “What?! NO! I love your curves, I want to take a bite of every curve of your body, good goddess you look like my best fantasy came to life,” he says everything so fast that your brain is a bit dizzy by his confession.

When you fully register his words, you are even more confused than before. “Then why didn’t you call?” You are really missing something here. If what he says is true, and what you say is true… Why haven’t you been on a date or something?

“How would I?” His confusion is so clear in his tone, and his ears twitch so adorably when he tilts his head to the side that you want to squeeze him until he’s just a puddle of goo on the floor.

You take the coffee cup and turn it around, splashing some of the contents on the floor. You show him that there’s indeed a number written on the bottom. “My number. In your cup. Everyday,” you repeat.

His surprise is so evident that he gapes like a fish at the numbers and then back at you. Numbers. You. Numbers. You. “Wait. Wait. You like me? You gave me your number?” His question is followed by some mumbling that you don’t catch, like he’s talking to himself. Or more like cursing himself.

“Yes! I’ve been trying to get you to notice me since you first came in,” you confess. You are so glad you can’t blush, because if you could, you’d be as red as a tomato.

He repeats: “You have?” His surprise shouldn’t be as adorable as it is, and it shouldn’t make you want to kiss him senseless. It should make you mad at him that he’s been so obvious to your flirting.

“Yes!” You exclaim, throwing your arms up, exasperated.

“I- I… I didn’t know.” His tone is soft, almost a whisper, and his ears keep twitching over his head. He’s embarrassed, you realize. And that makes you want to coo at him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he keeps chanting as he squeezes your body against his. Your face barely gets to his shoulders, but the way he squeezes you against him makes every worry you had about him disappear. He wasn’t rejecting you, he was just too dumb to realize you were into him. Stupid werewolf himbo.

Toby’s arms hold you so tightly against him that you fear he’s going to break you. “Dude, if I wasn’t a vampire you would break me,” you let out.

“Oops. Sorry.” He lets go of you and looks like you just gave him the best Christmas present ever. “Can… Can I kiss you?” He asks, his big paws holding your face tenderly.

“I thought you’d never ask.” You grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull down with all your supernatural strength, giggling against his mouth when you hear the ripping sound. But you don’t care. And he doesn’t either.

Your lips are against his, and your fangs are pinching his lips as he whimpers. You deepen the kiss as he grabs you by the waist and pulls you up, your legs wrapping around his middle as you grind against his toned abdomen. His hands find your ass and he starts groping you, his tongue dancing against yours. You are in heaven. After so many weeks of pining, you can’t believe you are grinding against his body as he caresses yours. You’ve never been happier to be with a supernatural, his strength coming in handy to support your weight without any problem. It’s exhilarating.

You make out like horny teenagers for what feels like hours, but it’s probably no more than fifteen minutes. You are breathing heavily against his neck, your fangs gracing his artery without biting down, as he groans and moans, rocking his impressive erection up to meet your needy core. You want to bite him so bad, but you know it’s not the place. Your venom can induce some kind of frenzy in werewolves and you really can’t have him fucking you raw in the backroom of the cafeteria. You like this job.

“Your break is up,” a voice says behind you, making you let out a short scream as Toby giggles, his face buried in your neck and his hands still squeezing your ass like he’s kneading bread.

He lets you down and pats your ass once more, kissing the tip of your nose softly. “I’ll pick you up when your shift is done. I think we have things… to discuss.” The innuendo on his words and the way he looks up and down your body like you are his next snack is enough to make your non-existent pulse race.

You can’t wait for your shift to be over.