#spicy heathen au

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — JT COMPHER x reader (main); TYSON JOST x reader (side); COMPHER x JOST (brief) wc — 14k synopsis — what's a reunion without some groveling?

note — this takes place a few of years after part one, go out with a bang (post-college/college au — tyson and kate are now out-going seniors!) sorry not sorry for the length of this behemoth, i got carried away per usual <3 there are more parts to come, and i would absolutely love to hear any theories/predictions if yall have any!

specific content warnings listed below the cut.

cw — cameos on cameos on cameos, we're at a party so drinking and mention of dr*gs + yacking (no description), drinking games, sorority terms/processes, me getting too invested in multiple subplots and potential background ships, soft!service!dom!JT makes my peabrain go brrrrr, everybodies a bit masochistic because i, registered heathen, am masochistic, reader’s wearing a short skirt for plot reasons, slight compher x josty, oral (reader receiving 2x), unprotected piv (i know, i know, i know i need help), me letting my brat self take the kink reins, praise baby praise, angst AND IM NOT SORRY, + happy fluffy bits... possible cliffhanger??? 

Staring up at the Alpha Chi house is like stepping back in time. 

Like trying on an old pair of shoes you found while deep-cleaning your closet only to find their once-perfect fit gone. Growth is funny that way; you never realize just how far you’ve come until it pinches you.

You’ve outgrown this place, though not from a lack of love or any great tragedy. It occupies a different place in your mind, just as you’re a different person than you were three years ago. 

Your younger self would balk at this development, wouldn’t believe it’d one day feel too small. You can’t fault her for that near-sightedness. In college, your whole world existed on one street. You had everything you needed then between two stop signs.

But your world is bigger now, and your needs are different too. 

Still, it feels good to try on your past for the night. Even if it's a tad ill-fitting. 

The drive between your new life and your old one hadn’t been too bad, but that’s probably because you didn’t do much of said driving. JT got the engine going before you could even make a grab for the keys and, despite spending the last year in the literal trenches of clinical rotations and shelf exams, refused to switch at the halfway mark. Yet, your boyfriend is practically vibrating with excitement as you cross the all-too-familiar threshold hand-in-hand. 

“This is so weird,” JT remarks, his lips low to your ear. His musky cologne, warm and woody, does its best to soothe your nerves.

As you survey the crowd, you nod. 

He didn’t need to elaborate further for you to understand because you were already thinking the very same thing. Watching students, the vast majority as unfamiliar to you as you are to them, milling around your old haunt stirs an odd, uncanny feeling akin to a surreal dream. You’re well-acquainted with the setting, almost to an uncomfortable degree, and you don’t think you’re all that different, but everything still feels foreign.

All the right pieces are there, and you’re sure you’ve put them in their proper places, but the image won’t behave.

You quickly realize the only thing that’s misplaced is you. Grief hangs from your back like a wet blanket. 

“Look what the cat dragged in, boys!”

A burst of riotous laughter shakes much of the gloom from your system.

Gabe Landeskog barrels into your boyfriend like an overgrown puppy. Gray-blue eyes twinkling under the rainbow of LEDs, he embraces you both in a warm hug, not minding that the spontaneous act of affection has just cost him an entire Solo cup.

“Compher and the missus,” the blonde addresses you both with a wide grin and a big palm to a cheek each; he gives JT’s a quick pat but merely cups yours. 

His breath still smells of spearmint and something spicy, an imposing combination your eighteen-year-old self could never find comforting. Just another thing that's different now. If you could package the scent for all the little moments of nostalgia, you would. 

“I was starting to think we’d have to drag you from the city kicking and screaming, but alas! You've left the cozy, vanilla bubble of your own volition for a weekend of debauchery with your favorite degenerates.”

JT’s affectionate eye-roll is big and dramatic even in your periphery. The levity brings a smile to your face. It grows wider and wider, enduring until your cheeks burn. If anyone deserves some light-heartedness, it's your sleep-deprived, perpetually-stressed boyfriend.

“A night, Landy. We’ve got to be back by tomorrow night to relieve the dog sitter,” your boyfriend amends with a pat to Gabe’s flushed cheek, returning the favor. 

The older man groans like the overgrown boy he is and will always be. “Look at you, Mr. Responsible. All domestic and shit. With a fur-baby and everything. I bet it’s as well-trained as your firstborn.”

Your eyes follow the line drawn by Gabe’s strong chin past the entryway through to the room used for table-top drinking games.

Half-kneeling on the rickety table you helped customize a few years back is Tyson Jost, head tilted to the sky as he guzzles down the center cup. More beer spills down his chest than into his mouth, effectively turning his white tee sheer. The crowd is comprised mostly of giddy sorority girls who don't mind a bit. 

Free booze and a free show—lucky them!

Once the plastic cup is empty, he crushes it in his palm before sinking the balled plastic into the basketball hoop on the adjacent wall. The converted dining room swells with hoots and hollers so quickly you would’ve thought Tyson emerged from some mythic quagmire, blood-soaked and victorious. But there are no winners in Rage Cage; everybody loses.

Tyson’s loopy grin falters when he registers you and JT on either side of Gabe.

You would like to say nothing’s changed between the three of you over the past couple of years. That you’re just as close as you’d been in college, that distance hadn’t done as much damage as it has.

You'd be lying if you did. 

You tried your best to keep him in the loop; you really did, but that didn’t end up mattering much.

JT hardly had time to socialize with you most of the time, and you’ve practically lived together since graduation. He, like you, tried, but at some point, his bandwidth could no longer accommodate Tyson’s sporadic texts and calls. Many of which came in the dead of night, when your boyfriend’s head was either buried in a textbook or in the pillow beside yours.

Whenever you could, you invited the forward to spend the weekend in the city with the two of you. You even went so far as to offer to put him up in a hotel between your and JT’s respective apartments, knowing your adult salary could stretch further than the Atomic tips he was splitting with Tyler. He always had something conflicting going on, and it didn't feel like your place to question the authenticity of his reasons, so you just kept extending the invitation, hoping things would align eventually.

After finally taking the leap and signing a lease together, you decorated the guest room with Tyson in mind. He’s yet to see it, still.

Your little Kate, on the other hand, needs a frequent flyer program.

A small part of you felt this shift was inevitable once JT went from best friend-slash-unrequited crush to full-blown, live-in boyfriend. Despite Tyson’s insistence on you finally hooking up and “putting everyone out of their misery,” his smile didn’t meet his eyes when JT broke the news that it wasn’t a one-night thing.

Maybe his “little crush” hadn’t been so little after all. 

If that’s the case, you can't blame him for avoiding your slice of grown-up love like the plague. It just would've been nice if he hadn't left you in the dark, wondering where and how you fucked up enough to get iced out.

Tyson responded to every third or so text of yours, so you mostly kept up with him and his life through Kate, who briefly dated him between ill-fated Gunnar stints, and social media. You weren’t sure how often he spoke to JT; after several attempts that ended with your boyfriend clammed up and irritated, you stopped asking.

Judging by how tense he is beside you right now, you have a pretty good guess.

“Yikes,” Gabe drawls. “Trouble in paradise?”

You remain carefully quiet, allowing your boyfriend to decide what, if anything, to share. This—whatever it is —feels like it's more so between them two than Tyson and yourself.

JT clears his throat so hard it cuts through the music blaring through the packed house—some remix you don’t remember learning the words to. “Trouble? Nah, Josty’d have to give us the time of day for that.” 

Gabe laughs, but you know JT isn’t trying to be funny. You can taste the undercurrent of bitter resentment. It’s impossible not to without an artificial buzz.

There’s no time to dwell because a flurry of red hair darts through the crowd dispersing out of the dining room and straight into your arms. A fresh, but faintly-candied scent tickles your nose as the cool metal of a bracelet digs into your neck. 

Kate.

“Fuckin finally!” The almost-grad squeals directly into your ear.

Definitely drunk. Or high—or both. 

“Don’t look at me,” you say, beaming when she pulls back. “I wasn’t driving.”

Kate swats JT’s chest with her open palm. “And this is why we don’t let you drive anywhere, Grandpa.”

The playful jab makes your smile deepen. His driving made her tardy to a ZBZ charity gala one time over a year ago when she made the mistake of hitching a ride with you, and she’s probably brought it up a million times since. Kate pretends to hold a grudge, JT pretends to find it aggravating, and you get to sit back, enjoying the warm camaraderie overfilling your cup.

The pair have been friends almost as long as you've been friends with either of them, but since your graduation, they’ve settled into something more serious and more genuine. Where your connection to Tyson wilted outside the conveniences of college, your relationship with Kate matured and flourished. She’s more than just your chapter-appointed Little Sister to JT now, having become more of a true sister than anything else. Hence the juvenile teasing.

“Well, we’re here now. Alive.”

Your little snatches your hand in hers, tugging you away from JT, who feigns offense.

“And now I’m stealing your girlfriend in retribution for making me wait. Go do… whatever it is you two heathens used to do at parties. We have a pong title to defend.”

“Excellent idea, Madame President,” Gabe declares, hands roughly massaging the male ginger’s shoulders. He tosses a wink in Kate’s direction.

Before the other ginger can drag you away for good, your boyfriend catches your free wrist, pulling you back to him so his lips can find your ear. Breath hot, he drops his voice an octave, “President’s bathroom. One hour. Nod if you understand.”

Your chin dips, quick and subtle confirmation.

“Good girl.”

As your respective keepers separate you, JT shoots you a wink of his own. Then, you lose him in the crowd.

Kate leads you through the sea of party-goers to the living room, her grip on you tight and comforting. Her thumb rubs small circles on the inside of your wrist as you approach the table, almost as if privy to your worry. Kate is incredibly perceptive; she can read someone’s mind without even looking at them. With you, her Spidey senses transcend county lines, so it’s no real surprise she deduced your current condition from no more than your erratic pulse thumping against her palm. 

When you reach the bustling folding table commandeered for the BP tournament, Kate does all the talking.

It’s not too hard to get on the bracket despite the late entry with two newly-minted Alpha Chi brothers manning the post. The absolute last thing they want to do is get on the bad side of the president of their sister chapter (Kate) and the girlfriend of a legendary former chapter president (you). The pairs for the current game are only a couple of throws in, so it’s going to be at least ten minutes before it's your turn.

“You, my dear, look thirsty,” Kate declares through a mischievous grin.

You let her pull you towards the kitchen across the hall but have more difficulty than you expect actually getting there. Every few steps, someone stops either you or Kate. Mostly the latter, but she’s quick to show you off to whoever’s trying to seize her attention. Apparently, Kate’s been building quite the mythos of your time on campus, and it’s very… dizzying, to say the least.

“Kit-Kat!”

Kate abandons the poor freshman boy shooting his shot (and missing fantastically) in favor of the feminine voice sliding into the conversation.

In the blue-ish hue washing over the small space, you’re having a hard time placing her, but she seems very keen on making your acquaintance.

“Blake Meyers,” the newcomer announces, extending her hand with a smile.

You take it, giving her your name and a matching expression in return. The flattened vowels are distinct and recognizable, as is the last name. 

“Meyers?” you ask, attempting to work it out.

“Ava’s younger sister,” Kate interjects. “And one of our best steals this past recruitment.”

Blake blushes so brightly her freckles disappear.

You remember that feeling. What it was like to have an older member, especially someone as established and accomplished as an outgoing ZBZ president, go out of their way to make you feel special. You have zero doubt Blake will be walking on air for the foreseeable future, any of the common little doubts about whether or not she made the right choice vanishing.

“I was really hoping I’d get to meet you tonight,” the freshman tells you bashfully. “Kate gave the most beautiful speech about you and your legacy on Preference Night, and when she told me you might be coming with your boyfriend, I had to put a face to the name. And Jenny was the one who pref-ed me, so it seemed like—I don’t know, a non-negotiable?”

Jenny is one of the twins Kate took her junior year, and she couldn’t have picked better. It gave you peace of mind knowing your Kate would have good people around her once you couldn’t physically be there for her.

You won’t be surprised if Jenny takes Blake as her little. Kate pref-ed her, and before that, you pref-ed Kate. It’s basically a family tradition.

Not long after you thank Kate for her generous words and Blake for her kindness, Thomas, one of the new initiates in charge of the beer pong table, flags you down for your game. Not ready to end your conversation, invigorated by the breezy, jovial chatter your new life lacks, you tug Blake along with you.

Between exceptionally beautiful throws (if you do say so yourself), you learn more about Blake and her roommate and fellow ZBZ spring initiate, Emory. They pepper you with questions: about your first-year college experience, advice on getting the best room possible on the sophomore floor for mandatory live-in, whether or not you got anything particularly valuable in the various leadership positions you held, and what fraternities to steer clear of. You’re more than happy to answer them all. Kate sprinkles in comments and jokes occasionally, but she mostly defers to you so she can celebrate the end of a smooth second term as president.

Once Kate and you have successfully defended your title, you pass the torch to the future of your chapter. Blake and Emory make quick work of the first challengers and are close to a similar sweep with the second pair when your little remembers her earlier mission: refreshments.

This time, you both keep your heads ducked as you speed through the dancing bodies and make a beeline for the dinged-up lockers propped against the wall. You can’t help but smile when you see her reach for the lock—your old lock.

Every upperclassman (and a few select friends of the chapter, like Alpha Chi Sweethearts such as Kate and, once upon a time, yourself) is assigned a secure, personal locker in the oversized kitchen for quick access to personal items. During parties, they essentially become personal coolers. At your very last formal chapter meeting, you will-ed the hunk of metal down to Kate, along with the more sentimentally valuable items you wanted to leave behind with her.

“Wait, can you even drink?” Kate asks you from where she’s kneeling. Sarcasm scrunches her brows together.

“Hilarious,” you reply with a playful glare. “And before you loudly ask about the non-existent fetus like the devious bitch you love being, don’t. Unless you want to give JT an aneurysm."

Kate fishes out two slim, chilled cans as she grumbles about how boring you two have become in your “old age.” She shoves a ratty sweatshirt—an old favorite of Tyson’s—back into the small locker, quickly refastens the lock, and scrambles the dial. Then, she returns to her full height beside you.

“So, do you want to tell me what that wink from Gabe was about?” you ask, brow cocked.

“Do you want to tell me what your horndog of a boyfriend whispered in your ear?” Kate counters.

“Touché.”

Kate cracks open a Spindrift Spiked and slots it into your waiting palm. She taps the rim with her own, then sighs back against the cluttered kitchen island. She’s going to crack, you know it. Kate, even when she has a secret she wants to keep, never stays quiet for long. Especially not when you’re the one doing the asking.

“Okay, so, d’you remember how Tyson was, like, completely apathetic after we broke up right before Heaven & Hell last Halloween?”

You nod, recalling how irritated she was over FaceTime while you helped her pick a costume out of your box of hand-me-downs. You did your best not to laugh because Kate was clearly distressed, but it was kind of hard not to when she was buried in a heap of red and white feathers, wearing a too-small tutu dotted with rhinestones.

Kate takes a sip of the spiked strawberry lemonade before elaborating, “Well, I was understandably pissed—Don’t give me that look, okay? I know I broke up with him, but he shouldn’t have been that blasé that soon—so, I hatched a plan.”

You shake your head, laughing. Kate and her schemes.

“I wasn’t planning on taking Gabe as my date, but when I ran into him at Atomic the day before… I don’t know; I just couldn’t resist. I mean, Tyson worships the man. If anyone’s getting a reaction, it’s Landy. I had to.”

“And?” you prod. 

“And…” she stalls, eyes darting around the kitchen in search of pesky eavesdroppers, cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. “…we might’ve done it in the backseat of his truck.”

“I’m scared to ask where.”

She buries her face in your shoulder. “The venue’s parking lot.”

Your eyes bulge so hard you, for a split-second, worry they’ll pop out of your head onto the sticky hardwood and land amongst the discarded cans.

“And I didn’t tell you because I was so scared you and JT would hate me,” Kate moans into your skin. She shifts to peer up at you, hesitant. “You don’t, right?”

“I don’t think I’m even capable of hating you, Katie-Kat, let alone for something as silly as banging a hot blonde,” you giggle, and she’s quick to join you. Lowering your voice, “Especially the hottest of hot blondes.”

“I’m so telling JT you said that,” she teases, pulling away.

You shrug and take your first sip. “Go ahead. He’ll agree.”

“And this is why you’re my favorite couple,” she says, bumping her hip against yours. “The worst part is Tyson didn’t even care about that either! At the post-game, when he saw my lipstick smeared all over Gabe’s neck, he high-fived him. Tyson fucking high-fived him for screwing me. His ex-girlfriend! How supremely demented is that?”

“I wish I had an explanation for you, but I don’t. I’m starting to think I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.”

Kate takes hold of your unoccupied hand and squeezes it three times.

“I’m guessing things haven’t gotten any better?”

You shake your head, eyes downcast like there’s something super interesting between the floorboards. “I know he’s busy, and we’re busy, but he’s acting like our friendship meant nothing.”

“Not to start a therapy session in the middle of a rager, but did you... did you ever actually talk about That Night? I know you said JT whispered, but how positive are you that Josty didn't hear him?"

A few months after That Night, your guilt was on the brink of hemorrhaging. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped; you broke down in the middle of Talladega Nights. Fucking Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. All fat tears and snotty, incoherent spiraling, your chest heaved as JT rubbed your back. He was quiet, more concerned than confused, until you calmed down enough to explain what’d been weighing on your conscience. 

Then, your boyfriend looked clueless—because he was. JT didn’t remember his heat-of-the-moment pseudo-promise to taint Josty’s image of you.

After a scene or two, you broached the subject you’d both been avoiding since getting together. You wanted to apologize, and not that you needed JT’s permission, but you felt it wasn’t entirely your amends to make. He agreed but was adamantly opposed to operating on assumption alone. If Tyson was truly upset by the pillow talk he overheard, JT reasoned, he was old enough to be frank about it.

You found yourself agreeing, but also not? On the one hand, you could see this being an instance of your anxious mind making a mountain out of a molehill, finding fault where there’s none. But you knew Tyson, and you knew how sensitive he could be. 

Something shifted that night. You’d known then, too, even in the hazy afterglow. His despondency wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t uncommon for his dejected expression—his forced smile dipped in feigned nonchalance—to visit you in therapy sessions or in your nightmares.

But every time you typed and re-typed one remorseful novel after another, every time your gun-shy thumb hovered over his contact, every time you nearly drove out to your alma mater to track him down… You couldn’t get yourself to see it through. 

At first, it was the nerves, the fear of hearing his pain and seeing his anger. Then, it was your own temper, stoked by indignation, that rose with every sign of withdrawal. Now, it’s just plain, garden-variety sadness.

It was—is disappointing how cleanly he severed ties. There one day and gone the next, no blow-out fight or melancholic hear-to-heart. Tyson was there; he was within reach, but at the same time, not at all. The casual dismissal is worse than outright rejection; the door ajar but wholly uninviting.

"In the moment, I was certain he didn’t. Now? Fuck, the percentage drops every time I replay it in my head,” you murmur, remorse bogging down your confession. "I know you made a point not to bring it up when you were together, but did he ever, I don’t know, say anything?"

Kate shakes her head. "No, sorry. But it's not like we actually did much talking anyway."

You snort despite your woes.

“Alright, that’s enough doom and gloom for one night. How’s my nephew?” Kate asks, bright smile chasing the blues away with all its might.

It’s a distraction and a good one, too. She listens intently as you prattle on about the bi-weekly training sessions you’re starting next month to help with the leash pulling and the ridiculous pet parents you’ve met at the dog park near your apartment. She inquires about the fluffy lamb she brought over the last time she stayed with you—it lasted all of a day in his over-excited grip—then gushes over another variation she saw last week while getting litter for Salem, her diabolical tuxedo cat.

By the time Kate has your phone in her hand, swiping through the designated album and asking more questions than each picture really warranted, you’re feeling a bit better.

Noticing the clock, you stumble through a totally-not-suspicious excuse to venture upstairs—alone. Kate shoots you a knowing look but doesn’t give you a hard time. To be honest, she’s just glad you came tonight. Instead of a witty jab or half-hearted guilt trip, she slips a gold foil square into your unsuspecting palm and sends you on your way with a supportive swat to the rear.

Access to the second floor during parties is typically mediated by two to three gatekeepers, depending on the scale and projected rowdiness of each gathering. Three’s the magic number tonight: two up-and-coming juniors and an outgoing senior. They grant you passage with little more than a nod of acknowledgment.

“What? No riddle this time?” you tease over your shoulder.

The senior, an engineering major with a penchant for brain teasers, answers with a hoot. Cale Makar shakes his head, both amused and flattered you remembered his signature move. His puppy crush on you is an open secret. “I was given strict instructions to ‘keep the shenanigans’ to a minimum with you, Your Majesty.”

“JT?” you venture a guess, hand paused on the paint-chipped banister. He’s the only one who still sprinkles in the silly nickname these days.

“Landy, actually.”

Well, close enough.

You shouldn’t be surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time the former chapter president enlisted Cale, his little, to assist in your and JT’s more salacious antics.

As soon as Gabe had the defenseman under his wing, he was putting him to work. Not that the younger blonde particularly minded, as his affinity for creative, slightly devious schemes rivaled that of Kate’s. It was Cale, you later found out, who ran interference during Semi Formal… while you were defiled on the balcony.

“Still doing his bidding, I see.”

He counters with that lopsided “Get Out of Jail Free” grin. “What can I say? The man puts up a mean bribe.”

As if cued, Cale’s companions, who you now recognize as Alex Newhook and Bowen Byram, step into view. In Alex’s raised grip is a case of Labatt Blue, and in each of Bowen’s, a bottle of bottom-shelf cabernet. You doubt the trio would notice or mind the subpar quality, though. Between their happy heads, Cale fists a bottle of champagne you know he’ll misplace before he can polish it off.

“Jesus, how drunk is he?” you tease, the follow-up to an exaggerated gasp.

Sure, the quality’s shit, but their haul is far more valuable than your appraisal of their job; it’s a frat house, not Buckingham Palace.

“Not drunk enough to not see you here with us.” Cale’s voice tapers off, his pale eyes tracking someone stalking down the hall before nervously flicking up to the ceiling, “…and not up there with JTC.”

JTC — Talk about a blast from the past.

An anticipatory tingling erupts between your inner thighs just knowing he’s up there right now waiting for you. This is the part of your “homecoming” that excited you most and had been since the moment your boyfriend pinned the invite from the alumni association onto the fridge.

As blissfully domestic as your life together has become, it lacks the spontaneity your college life had been brimming with. Your sex life could never be categorized as mundane or clinical, but you’re finding it difficult to replicate the adrenaline rush stealing secret moments inherently provided.

Sometimes, in your more (admittedly) desperate moments, you’ve caught your fingers moving beneath the sheets to mindlessly chase the thrill of those fleeting intimacies, despite how awful the constant wondering and wallowing felt then or, maybe because of it, pain and pleasure are uniquely human indulgences sought in equal measure. When intertwined, they’ve been known to satiate masochistic cravings the way a sad movie or a sprawling, high-speed rollercoaster might.

However, this time, your risk-spurned euphoria will be at your own hand. The newfound agency—the ability to choose when, how, or if any risk is involved—has you darting up the stairs with a fire under your soles.

Before you round the corner and disappear down the hall, you make sure to call out, “Thank you for your service!” accompanied by a two-finger mock salute. You don’t stick around to catch their responses, though.

As you make your way down the dim corridor, you run smack into a very giggly Sarah Jones, just shy of your destination. Eyes distant and wide, she attempts to apologize for something—Something about sabotaging the Big-Little pairings your senior spring?—but it’s more bubbles than actual words. You nod along, still not quite sure what you’re accepting an apology for but too antsy to forge ahead to play detective. Your purposeful strides went unnoticed in her cloud of intoxication and nostalgia, but Erik Johnson, who’d been JT’s vice president, mercifully ushers his inebriated fiancé out of your path by the shoulders.

You offer him a faint smile of gratitude as they head in the opposite direction.

Over the music, you faintly hear Sarah begin chattering on about something unrelated, your reunion long forgotten already. You can’t help but chuckle a little on behalf of your younger self, who would’ve gawked at snobbish Sarah Jones drunk and voluntarily slumming it in a ramshackle house on Greek Row. And sporting a rock from a Degenerate on Ice (her nickname for your brother fraternity, not yours), too? That would’ve been the icing. But, the older, more mature, once-weekly-therapy iteration of yourself is happy she’s happy.

Thoroughly amused but happy nevertheless.

As you reach for the tarnished doorknob of the president’s suite, the rickety door flings open to reveal your boyfriend, all flushed cheeks and frenzied eyes.

JT pulls you inside, lips easily taking possession of yours, the heel of his lived-in/loved-on sneaker nudging the door shut. The hinges groan in protest to the rough treatment. Still fussy as ever. This house is a goddamn time capsule, you muse. Neither of you has the patience for benevolence. If it jams, it jams. That’s a future-self problem. Diligence now would only slow you down.

And would a prolonged stay on memory lane really be all that bad?

Your boyfriend cages you so close that when he manages more than panted praise between hot-and-heavy touches, the words barely fit in the gap between your mouths. “I was beginning to think you stood me up, sweetheart.”

The light-hearted accusation is semi-whispered, somewhat hoarse, in the way his voice always sounded when he came home from a long shift at the hospital downtown or post-game at the height of his collegiate career. JT isn’t a hard person to read—downright wolfish when he’s homing in on a target—but the low, raspy tone makes his intent glaring.

Your body thrums with anticipation.

“Never,” you croon back. A breathy moan sweetens your voice, courtesy of the calloused hand inching up the back of your bare thigh, bypassing the hem of your skirt with no effort or resistance. Arms looping around his neck, you make an inquiry: “Is there a reason we’re in your old bedroom instead of, I don’t know, the king-sized bed in the honeymoon suite you insisted we spring for?”

Tufts of faint copper tickle your cheek. Your boyfriend lands a kiss on your crowd-warmed forearm. Then, much to your displeasure, he steps out of the tight embrace.

“Y’know, I remembered something earlier when I was downstairs,” JT supplies in an apparent non-answer.

He guides you, as understanding rises in your mental periphery, through the barely-lit space toward the Jack-and-Jill bathroom between this room and the next. Then, he flicks on the secondary light, the dimmer of the two, before tugging you over yet another threshold. His fingers twitch at his sides, lascivious.

You stare back at him expectantly, vision tunneling as you wait, wait, wait.

The latch might as well have been a starting pistol; the subtle click ringing in your eardrums like the sonic crack of a live round; his breath a plume of smoke from a charged muzzle well beyond its flash point. Pent-up, needy tension burns hot and burns brighter. Residue from the night prior aflame; you, a moth seduced.

JT drives forward. Stalking, like a cat on a bird, until he’s pinned you to the door. His dash was easy, made short and hasty by the starting block eagerness in your dilated eyes.

Mouth descending on your sensitive neck, hips grinding his want into your squirming form, harsh belt buckle nudging just right with each sharp rut.

“There’s still one thing left on my college bucket list.”

He sinks the candor in with his incisors. Not hard enough to break the skin, but that was never his intention. The sting is a reminder. Of your shared past, of his unwavering desire—of who is in charge.

Message received. Loud and clear.

JT leans away to admire his handiwork. One big hand poised at your jaw, and the other braced beside your head, keeping your shyness from blocking the perfect view; you’ve never been able to hide from him and never will.

His curious thumb deviates from the original objective to caress the skin, now splotched violet and angry. Softly, at first, like he’s committing the damage to memory. Then, emboldened by a sudden piercing hiss forcing itself from your throat, JT pushes down on the tender spot. The cruel, unexpected pressure pulls pitiful bleating cries from your undulating chest.

This is no longer an expedition to gather intel; it’s a primal instinct.

For a few moments, he just holds you like this. A cloistered existence made worthwhile by him occasionally digging deeper into the column of your throat, the pressure taking on a raptorial quality. Your boyfriend wears his herald grin at a rakish angle. It unfurls with refined delicacy, an effective diversion for his next endeavor. Breathe like a precision instrument; the sharp phantom-edge fans across the sucked-raw skin with unhurried ease.

There isn’t enough alcohol in your system to dull the twinge — and you’re glad for it. It’d be a crime to dilute a burn this good, this all-consuming. You crumble between him and the door, your world only this big. His name tumbles out with a pulled-candy moan, completely devoid of dignity.

JT’s chest rumbles beneath your clammy palms. “You gonna be a good girl and help me tie up loose ends?”

His strawberry-blonde crown dips to nuzzle your cheek. Hot tongue tracing an experimental line, JT groaning as it does. The muscle trawls for tears you didn’t realize you shed, humming through the pursuit. The low-pitched moan sends a chill straight down your spine right to your toes.

The hand gripping your jaw lowers so his fingers are able to coil themselves around somewhere more advantageous — your neck. Your eyelids flutter, woozy. His firm squeeze, just enough to make everything spin and keep you still, has become blissfully familiar over time, but your breath still hitches like it’s the first.

“Hm, sweetheart? Don’t be rude. I asked you a question.”

Your lips part, a barbed retort to his condescension on your tongue, but all you can push out is the strangled yelp of a wounded animal.

The hand by your temple no longer rests against the door. In the fog, it snuck up under your skirt; JT never meant to get an answer out of you; he just likes to watch you squirm. Likes to have something to reprimand you for.

His nimble fingers dance over the thin, sodden material pulled taut over your heat. Less touching, more hovering. Small, lazy movements that betray how well he can play your body. They float above the tingling bundle of nerves, further movement pending, contingent upon your obedience.

“P-please,” comes your pouted whimper.

“Focus for me, pretty baby. Tell me what I want to hear. Come on, let me make things easy for you. I can feel how badly you want to — and you aren’t in a position to be difficult, are you?”

You give in, and though the words you babble are largely unintelligible, JT’s ultimately satisfied.

“Such a good listener I’ve got myself. But you’re always to eager to please, aren’t you? You might throw stones from behind that tough girl act, but it’s just that: an act. I have a puddle in my hand to prove it.”

His frankness sears your face.

You’ve acquired a tolerance for his raunchy silver tongue through months of close proximity, but the mechanism is shoddy at best. Stalls and misfires galore. Against all odds (said “odds” being his fingertips toying with the edges of fabric between your thighs), you summon up a tawdry retort from the growing arsenal. “Don’t l-let it go to waste, Compher.”

It's not your best work, but much better than the slurred gurgle that preceded it.

He loves how you manage to be any sort of cheeky with him, even with your head swimming, stuttering and all.

“I don’t think it matters, sweetheart. I know there’s no shortage. Plenty more where it came from.”

With your knee, you nudge his hard-on and supply some honey-tongued snark of your own. “Is that your ego, or are you just excited to see me?”

Your boyfriend chokes out short-lived mirth. Then, with an accompanying smile, his tongue presses to the inside of his cheek. Amused, but by the sting of the remark’s undeniable truth, not your cleverness. The protrusion moves just below his bottom lip as he swipes the muscle over his teeth, a half-second sardonic gesture. It calls attention to your impudence without dignifying it with a verbal reply.

His brow lifts to negate any confusion, feigned or otherwise. “Are you going to keep being a brat, or are you going to let me fuck you with my fingers?”

You gulp down your ready-mixed wisecracks.

“Nothing to say now?” JT taunts. “Funny how that works.”

Fuckin’ wisenheimer. His voice is so haughty you have to bite your lip to keep your foot out of your mouth, unwilling to jeopardize your impending pleasure for short-term gratification.

Your boyfriend’s smugness—and your subsequent annoyance—becomes irrelevant when your panties are roughly pushed to the side, and his thick finger slips past your taut entrance. Tip to knuckle in one succinct trust; your startled gasp drowns out the noise rising up through the floorboards.

Hips bucking forward—you just can’t help yourself—you're in search of some friction to marry with the blinding stretch. He’s made the tensile opening accommodate far more in length and thickness, but not like this. Rarely does he create space where there is barely any, having forgone tenderness. Slowly widening a gap with gentle pressure, not demanding room like it’s already his to occupy.

Your surprise drips down his hand.

The bliss—the relief, is palpable. Your head dips into the crook of his neck, and the gravity of the situation felt for the first time.

Before, you didn’t see any substance in a tipsy frat bathroom hook-up. The older you got, the more pointless it seemed, especially with an established, long-term partner. The novelty wasn’t lost on you, of course, but that’s all you’d written it off as.

Countless collegiate nights were spent imagining one like this one. A moment where your inescapable feelings for him would be matched outright. When the pressure of his stifled emotions would build too fast to keep them from boiling over, too mighty in stature. Suddenly overcome by unrequited feelings of his own, unable to uphold all the ridiculous unspoken platonic conventions with the same authority he commands now.

This is important. For your past and present selves. The significance of this overdone, soapy teen drama scenario cannot be overlooked because it underscores the progress you’ve made together. Years of dancing around one another, the unconventional catalyst and nontraditional timeline, every hushed conversation in the wee hours before responsibilities wake, the sleepless nights and the snooze-filled afternoons—this ostensibly clichéd moment is an amalgamation of it all.

One thought rises above the frenzied rest: Was this here all along?

Is this what was waiting on the other side of the aimless pining and the confusion and the hurt?

The journey might’ve been fucking hell, but the view from here is pretty damn heavenly.

Overwhelmed by your epiphany and his dexterous motions, you moan into his skin far louder than your pride would’ve otherwise allowed outside your shared apartment.

His arrogant laughter grates before it really registers. Venom secretes from your salivary glands when it does, but the melted retribution never makes it past your lips. His second finger robs it of the opportunity, and the third sends all thoughts out your ears. The light circles over your clit cloud your vision, nails digging into his jersey-clad back—I’m feeling nostalgic, he’d said. In more ways than one, apparently.

“S’good—wanted this for so long, Compher—k-kept wishing it was you that night, not Miles.”

JT seethes at the admission, curling his fingers until your knees buckle and you’re entirely reliant on him to keep you off the floor. Even as your mind slips further and further away, your hips manage to move in time with his hand. Meeting each stroke with equal hustle and vigor, a clear end goal on the horizon.

Then his thumb drops away, his hand coming to a halt, and he steps back. 

Away.

Frustration pushes the amassed tears waiting in the wings down your cheeks. Emotion runs down your face; a heavy spill indeed.

“I don’t ever want to hear another man’s name outta your mouth when it’s my fingers buried in your pussy.” His jealousy is well-polished. Manicure-smooth, like he’s been maintaining its luster in preparation for this very occasion. "—'specially not the motherfucker that made sure I heard all your pretty sounds through the walls.”

You’d grin if you weren’t so miserable.

That’d been your intention. It wasn’t anything Miles had or did that made him different from the rest of the chapter (who all, at one point or another, tried their luck with JTC’s hot best friend), just simply when he decided to shoot his shot. The only reason you’d been out in the first place was because you reached your breaking point, no longer able to stomach what you felt for JT, and you made sure Miles knew this before you let him call an Uber.

Despite playing for the same team, the pair shared a touch-and-go rivalry. You never knew if the intensity would result in a sweeping victory or an in-house, all-out brawl. If they ever saw eye to eye, you’d of never known. Miles needed no convincing to push JT’s buttons.

There was some heavy petting, nothing more. The only time Miles saw you undress was to change into the pajamas he lent you before knocking out on his futon, leaving you to take the bed. But JT didn’t know that. If sitting in their chapter house’s kitchen at 5 o’clock the next morning didn’t raise suspicion, the non-Compher borrowed t-shirt and ruffled hair certainly did.

Back then, he refused to ask. Even though you could see how badly he wanted to pry. Miles didn’t have anything he worth sharing, so JT was left to fill in the blanks.

You’d tell him the truth later, but right now, you wanted to see what milking his assumptions could get you.

“Did you like what you heard?”

His jaw ticks. Your hips push against his with a knowing simper.

You lean forward, closing the space he forced, lips barely brushing his ear, “Did you get off on it? Fuck your hand picturing yourself in his place… wishing it was my pussy instead?”

You hear the thud before you feel your head against the door or his hand back around your throat, his fingers deep between your walls again. The everywhere-throb makes you laugh. Giggle, really.

He squeezes until you’re no longer capable of mockery. His pace hastens, leveling out only once your thighs have started shaking around his wrist, knees cutting off his circulation elbow-down. Somehow, he keeps going despite the icy tingle. His determination overrides physical discomfort, knowing how close you’re getting. Feeling it in the distinct fluttering around his digits, seeing it in your trembling, swollen bottom lip.

“You’re so full of shit.” His mouth twitches at your throaty moan. A defiant hint of levity circles his pupils; he never stays riled up for long when it’s you yanking his chain. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You kiss him then, messy and crude, love-drunk. He tastes like your chapstick and gin, with a biting citric aftertaste —Grapefruit, maybe?—and you suck it in like you haven’t had a drop of water in days. And, in turn, he drinks down every choked sob and nonsensical half-thought you babble, every drop shooting straight to his loins.

He drives into you with fervor, humming as his tongue slips against yours, iron bulge omnipresent. The hand around your neck loosens but never leaves its post, thumb stroking your pulse point. I know everything about you, his movements whisper. Over and over, in and out. He, just as much as you, gets lost in the repetition.

“Don’t want him, never wanted him. Jus’ you—Always you.” It comes out slurred, mushy like your head, like your heart.

JT’s cock isn’t immune to affirmation and twitches through his too-tight jeans. Groaning, “Go on, sweetheart. Scream my name. I want every single person in this house to know exactly who’s fucking you this good.”

You do just that, writhing on his hand, eventually burying your face into his warm neck when it gets to be too much. He continues fucking you, and you continue crying for him, the pathetic little whimpers muffled now by his body.

JT guides you through the rest of your orgasm, as he always does. He watches your face carefully on the comedown, searching for any sign of regret or discomfort. When he finds none, he cradles your shaking form against his solid chest, the hand that, only moments ago, tore you apart, soothing you back down to earth. Once you’ve settled, he walks you back and away from the door.

A startled yelp falls from your lips when you feel the chilly edge of the countertop. You pull away from your boyfriend, brows furrowing with confusion.

His hand taps the outside of your thigh. "Up."

You’re having a hard time keeping your eyes open, let alone stringing thoughts together, so the command is met with inaction. Impatient as ever, JT wordlessly hoists you where he wants you and sinks down to his knees, big hands cupping yours.

“What’re you doing?” Strained, barely above a whisper.

He stares up at you with dopey, lovestruck eyes. “Come on, Compher. You can gimmie another one, can’t you?”

You aren’t an idiot. Often sleep deprived beyond belief and, more often than not, fucked-out on JT’s… Well, anything—but definitely not an idiot. You knew exactly what that loaded gun of a pet name implied the moment he used it. It first slipped out during a frantic supply closet rendezvous midway through your company’s holiday party, then a few more times in the months after.

It hasn’t lost its sparkle. It does make you more and more impatient each time he flashes it, though.

Fuckin’ tease.

Your fingers burrow in his hair, tugging from the root until his eyelids flutter prettily. “As long as you let me return the favor after—need to taste you so bad.”

“Deal,” he mumbles into your skin a half-second later.

His hands push your already-short skirt up, bunching it atop your hips and out of the way. Your boyfriend takes the time to remove the fabric barrier this time, and you don’t miss the way he tries to slip them into his back pocket without you noticing. Likely because it’d normally be a tease-able offense.

But not tonight, not right now.

Instead, you let a shiver speak for itself. The risqué gesture reminds you of the pair he used as a pocket square when his parents took you two to a celebratory dinner following his white coat ceremony. The rumble of his chuckle tells you his mind went there, too.

JT leans in, big eyes never moving from yours, his warm exhale fanning over your swollen folds. The tooth-marked bruise forming on the side of your throat pricks in tandem response. The action, a repeat of your boyfriend’s earlier antics, naturally yields similar enough results. He catches on, inching forward to—

Something bangs against the door.

His face falls; your heart seizes.

“Occupied!” your boyfriend barks, hands paused but gripping you tightly. He looks like he’s on the verge of exploding.

A full, lilting sound barrels into the door—too-good-to-be-true laughter. His breathy timbre is an unsteady balance of cocksure and skittish; a preference for one side or the other is blurred by the wood in its way. “It’s me, dickhead.”

Then, the curtain is lifted. A pocket of silence ushers in a stillness that cracks like a bolt from the blue.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel right now. You most definitely suffered a concussion somewhere in all JT’s reprimanding; you’re hallucinating right now. That, or the singular seltzer in your system magically turned psychotropic after consumption.

Waiting in the threshold is Tyson Jost. A quarter-drunk fifth of Jack in one hand and that goofy, irrepressible smile plastered on his face. Almost frozen in time—good-humored, untouched. As if nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed. Suave, and standing there like he hasn’t ignored you for months on end, like your and JT’s absence in his life wasn’t felt the way the Tyson-sized void in yours was.

Idle and morose, his eyes are the only defectors to his blasé demeanor. Timid and downturned, akin to a kicked puppy, they beg you and your boyfriend to assuage his guilt. An olive branch, a white flag in the wind. Amid their vulnerability, they still manage to cut into you in a way that feels too intimate, too honest—too much.

The worst part of this charged maelstrom is knowing Tyson isn’t capable of being cruel on purpose, then or now. It's bittersweet.

Careless or callous, it hurts all the same. It’s difficult to sift through the muck and decide which feelings should guide your actions when there’s no easy place to lay blame.

A gnarly, muddy morass of emotion climbs out of your gut and fills your throat, threatening to make an appearance each time you dare to exhale. You’re nervous and confused, elated and optimistic, angry and reproachful. The burn of betrayal rushes up your neck and across the bridge of your nose, but all the words you’ve stockpiled for this rainy day stick to your tongue like tar. Dark, thick, and flammable—your silence is probably for the best.

Bronze eyes, somber beneath the fan of flaxen lashes, adopt a strange aloofness that doesn’t suit his face. Lacquered just so as to protect the gooey softness beneath, the finish does nothing to obstruct or disguise his desirous longing or a brand of blues you’ve never seen in him before.

The intensity of your braided gazes is sanguine at best, duplicitous at worst, but disorienting all the same.

Anxiously, you chew on time; you’re trying your best not to swallow minutes and hours in big gulps. Your attempts to savor their confounding guilty-pleasure flavor are as futile as hoping the animosity would dissipate on its own. Or wishing the distance was just a nightmare you were on the verge of waking up from.

JT’s pulse races against your skin. He’s just as affected, just better at hiding it.

“Took you long enough,” is what JT says in greeting from the floor, dry words flung over his shoulder to curb the growing tension. Blithesome and biting and far more hospitable than you imagined.

All you can do is blink, slack-jawed; there are pieces you’re missing.

JT chuckles at your expression. He pecks your inner thigh to regain your attention. “Fuck now, talk later. Sound good?”

His words crack any and all inhibitions. Like opening the door to a cage, his reassurance grants your mind and heart the permission to succumb to the wave of emotions—lust overtaking the pack with ease.

Eyes still stuck on the ghost in the doorway, you nod your head in agreement. It’s as if you’re afraid your voice might rupture the bubble.

“Figured you’d be a little parched, baby.” Tyson, voice becoming jocular as ever, wags the bottle as he shuts the door behind himself. His tone might be light-hearted, but his gaze is anything but. Starved is the only way you can think to aptly describe the shadow. “And we can’t have that, now can we?”

You barely register JT vacating the prime real estate to accommodate his best friend, and subconsciously, you scoot closer to the edge. You knew you missed him, but you underestimated how needy you’d become if he ever stood before you again.

Both men notice.

Grinning, Tyson takes hold of your jaw. His hand emits a small tremor of unease, hesitant where JT had been demanding. The accidental brush of his fingertips over your boyfriend’s trailed claim rattles free a melancholic whimper. Your eyes glaze over, watering as your neck cranes up at him. He gently tilts your face to the side to assess the damage. You can feel his eyes raking over the marred skin, a sensation akin to your boyfriend’s weaponized breath. Goosebumps rise in their wake.

In reference to the Neanderthal surveying you over his shoulder, Tyson sniggers. “Filthy bastard.”

Charming as ever.

“She deserved it.” JT’s nonchalant shrug is more dismissive than his verbal nod.

Wicked eyes twinkle. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

You pinch his side, offended. Nevertheless, you purr at the certitude dripping from his husky vibrato.

He yelps and bats your hand away. “Got you good, didn’t he?”

You nod.

The baby talk-adjacent voice is demeaning, but with your only shield burning a hole in your boyfriend’s back pocket, lying about the effect it's having would be pointless.

Propriety is becoming increasingly moot, as this conversation circling around you carves space for new possibilities.

“Poor thing,” Josty hums, his thumb coasting back and forth over your jaw. His breath is smokey-sweet, honeyed. “M'gonna make it all better. Open up, baby.”

It’s something straight out of an early aughts raunchy teen comedy, the way he holds your mouth open to pour whiskey straight down, doing so without the lip ever touching either one of yours. The thin stream drags slightly as it goes down, but you’d never know watching the pillowy spirit disappear into you. You’re too eager to impress them both to give in and react—to the burn in your throat or the circumstances of this affair. You guzzle the oaky vanilla-clove flavor, smiling dumbly at the toasted aftertaste, all too happy to take anything and everything you’re given.

Still, either by virtue of Tyson’s lingering tipsiness or your inattention, some of the amber liquid escapes over your bottom lip, dribbling over your chin and down in between your cleavage. There isn’t enough time to consider wiping it off; Josty’s mouth is sucking you clean before the bottle even hits the counter beside you.

“Would be a shame…” Tyson starts, briefly interrupting himself with a succession of wet, open-mouthed pecks he’s decided to spoil your décolletage with, “…to let it go to waste.”

JT’s begrudged scoff cuts through the trance. “Jesus, kid. Where’d you learn that? What the fuck have you been doing? Or should I be asking ‘who' you've been doing?"

Tyson flinches at the coarse overtone the questions carry. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of reaction only you’re close enough to feel. He just laughs into your neck rather than humoring JT or feeding into whatever he’s implying.

You’re too woozy to toss in your two cents in favor of either side.

Cold countertop lapping up your wetness, the burning palm cupping your face to aid the pursuit of sugary lips, the memory of his tongue gliding over your sticky skin—your boyfriend a few paces away, watching. That’s more potent than any liquor, mixed or straight. It doesn’t take long for you to pull away, in a there-but-not state of mind, to slouch against Tyson’s chest. Head heavy, warmed and spinning.

Happy.

“Somethin’ special, aren’t you?” Tyson muses as he kneads the tender spot where your hairline meets your neck. You peck his forearm.

“As sweet as this reunion’s been, you came up here for a reason. Get to it; we don’t have all night. I imagine La Tornade will be wanting his bathroom back eventually.”

You whimper at the sharp edge of his voice, even though you weren’t the intended target.

JT’s dark drawl was laden with protective affection for you, his devotion hardened by a hue of discontent reminiscent of a paternal chide. An outsider looking in might not see beyond the mediator-in-shining-armor ruse, mistakenly pruning away JT’s thorny pain and rotted grief, but you know better. The situation and him. While genuine, his defense of your bruised feelings is a trojan horse for his own. He’s conveying his rage how he can: under the guise of selflessness.

Tyson gulps, eyes downcasted, then nods. He understands as well as you do. When he finally looks up, the shadow’s fallen over his face once more, cloud drooped low overhead.

“You’re scaring me, Josty.”

This makes him laugh, his mood brightening a tad. “If anyone should be scared, it’s me.”

In your periphery, you catch JT urging him to continue with a stiff glare.

“I-I’ve been such an ass. I—I just care so damn much. About you. About Compher, and our friendship. When you graduated, m-my whole world changed. Like someone gutted my life, scooped out all the good, comfortable stuff and left me with the shell. I felt like I lost my people. Like I was left behind. And then I had to watch you two get closer than ever—without me. It fucking sucked, and I didn’t cope well. Didn’t cope at all, really. Kate’ll tell you, she took the brunt of my tailspin.”

You can’t help but snort despite the thick emotion welling up behind your eyes. The boys smile, too. Things look up.

Tyson takes your hand in a tight squeeze; his pulse jumps into your palm. “But that’s no excuse for what I did—didn’t do. How I treated you. You were trying so hard, and all I did was punish you for it. For constantly reminding me you guys are there and not here. For moving on with your life like you’re supposed to.”

He claims JT’s old spot knelt between your parted knees. “And I’m sorry. So deeply sorry, baby. Please let me make it up to you—let me apologize properly.”

Tears of his own shine up at you from his flushed cheeks. Gently, you take his face in your hands, rubbing away the spilled emotion with the soft pads of your thumbs.

A silent pardon.

The walls throw back the echo of his low, audible content—of relief.

“Is this okay?” His voice is barely a whisper, dwindling to a hush as the question tapers off.

Too determined to quiet his audible fear of rejection—and to have his mouth on you as fast as humanly possible—to bother with words, you nod immediately.

“With how much she’s been dripping onto the counter since you walked in, what do you think?” JT interjects, mood vastly improved.

Your cheeks and neck heat just as he intended.

The younger forward chuckles, hands massaging up and down your sensitive thighs, gripping them as if holding himself back from lunging too soon.

A predator lurking in the brush, lying in wait.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything. Didn’t want to embarrass her.” He winks up at you, confidence rising to the surface once more. You have to fight to maintain eye contact; he’s that stupidly attractive. “ —was try t’be a gentleman.”

You’re a flurry of butterflies, a whimpering mess.

Tyson wants to tease your body; it’s in his nature. But he won’t. Namely, because he can’t. No matter how good some old-fashioned edging would eventually make you feel, he’s already on JT’s shit list as is.

Besides, he’s only been fiending for a taste since you introduced yourself to him. And there's no time like the present...

Your guttural scream—an appropriate, albeit mortifying reaction to his baby pink lips enveloping your swollen clit—pumps his chest full with pride. Tongue flat, he charts the length of your heat with a gentleness you hadn’t thought your collective excitement would allow for. His hands coast over your legs, syncing with his mouth, until he physically cannot wait any longer. One final pass, one so agonizingly slow your greedy hips thoughtlessly vie for more of anything, brings his wistful, fidgeting digits to rest at the apex of your thighs.

“Pause.”

JT’s clipped command is a bucket of ice water.

Your vocal annoyance is matched by Tyson’s, but you both know how delicate a game you’re playing.

With his thumb still lazily swirling to your clit, Tyson’s inquisitive head begins to turn around. Before he gets anywhere worthwhile, it’s swiftly spun back into place by your boyfriend’s firm hand.

You can’t even convey how hot you find JT’s fingers casually twisting in his friend’s curly mop—just the way you love; all you manage is a warbled, mostly airy cry. Your distressed state worsens watching the show unfold between your lax, parted knees: reluctant, fluttery lashes over neon cheeks; a rosy, glistening bottom lip sacrificed to cage mousy whimpers, his ragged breathing betraying all effort toward feigning indifference to JT’s self-assured manhandling.

Your boyfriend snickers at your expression, a fish lingering open-mouthed for a surface sip, an ill-attempt to supplement a natural mode gone inadequate. No matter how much oxygen your widened jaw draws in, it never feels sufficient. A bottomless pit, a balloon with a fatal puncture wound. Gone before your depleted brain could make use of it.

“Have to make sure he does it right, don’t I, sweetheart?” JT’s voice is smooth and low, charring by the second; he’s enjoying the view as much as you are.

Tyson rolls his tawny eyes. Half-hearted annoyance. “Controlling much?”

“I know what my woman needs.”

The look you share with your friend is unequivocally feral.

And the growl JT hurls back, a low-pitched rumble permeating the tight space with little effort on his part, is just plain mean.

His attitude could not be more arrogant. The cavalier persona makes you shiver, and Tyson’s breath hitch. Humming, your boyfriend tugs on his curls until the two’s eyes are locked. Inescapable. The brunette gasps as he tries desperately to hold his eyes open, waiting with bated breath.

JT licks his lips, triumphant. “Open her up for me, will ya?” Mischief catches in the light as quickly as it falls into your boyfriend’s lap. His grip tightens, and Tyson whimpers like a naughty puppy caught red-handed. “Don’t screw around, ‘kay? She needs all the help her tight pussy can get, and we don’t have all night.”

Panting, his nod is the only affirmative he can muster up. And the only one his limited range of motion will allow for. Smug and pleased enough, JT all but throws his friend into your fire, his nose bumping where you’re most sensitive. 

You actually yelp.

Holding your torrid gaze, Tyson dips his marriage and middle into you. You groan out what you meant to be his name—But who knows? And who fucking cares?—unable to control yourself while he’s finally touching you like this. Finally back.

Tyson finger-fucks you at an even pace, steadily pushing you up the hill. His satisfaction is tangible when he pulls out and away, so very delighted by your wonton hiss of annoyance. Even more so when the volume hikes up in response to the slippery pads of his fingers circling your clit. Your lewd whines harmonize with your audible arousal as he works it back into your fragile skin, playing with your wetness, utterly fascinated.

“What d’ya think, baby? Think you’re wet enough to take another finger?” JT’s tone is as cocky as his stupid rhetorical question. He, however, made no move to conceal his growing impatience.

“Mhmm,” you murmur, head like a rubber ball hitting the pavement. Still, you remember your manners. “Please—c-can I? Can I have another?”

His smile is pure adoration, dreamlike.

JT’s reverent eyes stay with you, but his words pour down over the eager man on the floor as he coaxes you halfway to heaven. “You heard her, kid. Give the lady what she deserves.”

Kid—Tyson hates when people call him that, but he especially loathes JT's usage. There’s barely an age difference, but with the way everyone acts, it might as well be decades. It seems like no matter what he does to prove himself, he’s still the baby. Every additional candle is like an annual slap in the face, a mockery that won’t end.

He can feel anger and frustration curdling low in his stomach just thinking about all the attempts that fell flat, and he decides to put the grumbling to good use. The vibration is red-hot and deliberate against your responsive, slick center, irritation like lighter fluid.

He gives you more than just three fingers. He splays all three—wide. Even as they stroke your soft inner walls, Tyson keeps you stretched so as to leave no slack. Your boyfriend wants you open? Tyson will fucking tear you apart, happily. (Yes, spite is a factor.)

Highly sensitive and spread to the limit, you ascend far quicker than usual. Fisting a bushel of golden-brown curls, nails digging rapt half-moons, you guide his willing face to the necessary places to see yourself through. Every slight adjustment has your entire body jerking haphazardly as it struggles to process the rocketing shockwaves.

JT’s hand retreats—only slightly—to make way for yours, to give you more leverage to fuck yourself through it. Less than a foot away, your boyfriend’s chest heaves in time with yours, his eyes pits of lust you dive into with clumsy enthusiasm.

During one particular, delicious pass, the tip of Tyson’s tongue catches your strained entrance, and when you unexpectedly gush against his mouth in response, he begins lapping over and around your carnal connection.

“Holy shit — Ty, I-I’m — I’m — “

The denouement of your climax is nothing short of glorious, as rude of a sentence interruptor as it was. Half-mewls and purred praise rain down from your loosened lips, eyes screwed shut.

Tyson melts over the way you take control of your orgasm, so unabashed and authoritative. You go after what you want; he respects that majorly. And getting to feel and taste what makes you tick doesn’t hurt either.

Neither do you and your pretty, throbbing walls cutting off blood flow while your boyfriend tugs his hair from behind.

“Just like that, keep fucking her through it. Did so good—doin’ so good for us.”

JT’s praise sends the brunette’s unoccupied hand right to his bulge.

This is the best he’s felt in months.

There’s the mythical balance of bliss-to-tension to key up his senses, shooting white-hot tingles of want from his head to his feet and flaming between his ribs, affection for you. You forgive him, JT forgives him, and, most importantly, he forgives himself.

He feels buoyant with his face coated in your climax, so much so that it runs down from his chin to his neck, staining the collar of his beer-soaked tee; he hopes you might return his favor later.

Josty’s guilty hand is knocked away by a firm toe.

“Y’haven’t earned it, bud,” his mentor chides.

The delinquent appendage flops lamely at his side for a split second, then lifts beside his nose to join its partner at your slick core. As if remembering there’s work to be done, a goal to attain. Beneath this new asset, your achy, spent clit pulses, egging him on with every thump, thump, thump.

Tempting him to do something, to take it further…

He thinks about it. Fuck, does he think about it—you can see the tape winding in his eyes.

JT can read Tyson’s mind through his skull, apparently. “Don’t even think about it, kid. Her last one’s mine, but you’re more than welcome to watch from right here.” —Your boyfriend points to the remaining space between the sinks, knowing it’ll be close quarters for you both— “Just remember: I only said watch. This is groveling, not a treat.”

And Tyson does. Without question or complaint, he’s just fine sitting next to you, sitting pretty.

He’s always been the perfect teammate. Always willing to do whatever it takes, regardless of the role. The only difference is he no longer wants his anxiety to be the sole motivator behind said selflessness.

Finally ready to play fearless.

JT helps you down; Tyson hops up.

Immediately, your attention fractures. Split between messy brown curls and lust-blown pupils and your own disheveled appearance: smudged makeup, knotted hair, mauled neck, and spit-stained, bruised lips. Thank fuck you’re graduated and gone. Otherwise, you’d never live this down—Kate might treat you to a taste of would-be campus humiliation later if she’s feeling particularly charitable, though.

Your boyfriend’s grip is heavy on your hips. Happy to have you back. You feel one hand coast over your lower back and down to grope your ass as if trying to keep you in the palm of his hand. White-knuckle hold withstanding, JT presses his chest flush to your backside and uses his free hand to yank every remaining hindrance to your navel.

He wants you on display.

Your gasp is rivaled only by Tyson’s pitiful whimper and twitching, touch-happy fingers.

The ginger’s chuckle is molten and deep, mouth barely a breath from your ear, his eyes pinning Tyson still.

Your mind rewound back to when he made this proposition, wondering how the hell you got from there to here.

“Bend over, sweetheart. Arch that back nice and pretty so we can show Josty what a good girl he’s been missing out on—what a filthy thing you’ve turned into.”

As soon as you’ve done just that, your boyfriend drives home. It’s fast and dirty; primal. He knows there’s no need, but JT marks his territory anyway.

You watch Josty’s mouth part like he’s about to ask you something. Staring through his eyes as if ducking into his pesky daydreams and up-too-late musings, all specifics watery and indistinct.

Ultimately, you wind up disappointed by silence. But, with the slow return of your boyfriend’s bare cock between your soft inner walls, it dawns on you; JT had used a condom last time. Even made Tyson retrieve it for him. The depth of your relationship is sinking in; that’s what you’re now watching. He’s mulling over the information, caught somewhere between wanting to swallow his guilt one go and choking on his own assumptions.

JT follows your charged concern, performs a similar triage, and then gives you a concise nod through the fogged-up mirror.

I’ll handle it.

At that, your walls noticeably ease, and he shudders, groaning as even more of him sinks deeper to occupy the newfound space. He gets a few strokes out before Josty slots his body between your palms to lean in. Here, he does something that collapses the simple but effective status quo. 

“Fuck, kid. K-Keep doing that.”

Keep rubbing your clit.

Keep playing with you.

Keep being an accessory to his pleasure. To yours.

Be present.

Be here.

“Such a fucking mess, baby. Don’t know how Compher gets anything done with you there, sweet and ripe for the taking.”

The two halves of Tyson’s demeanor are antithetical, and infuriatingly so, a saccharine smile split open by filth. It paints a sordid picture that must stand for itself, as you find it impossible to pluck out of thin air any coherent thoughts.

Be that as it may, your friend did not set out for a reply. At least not one other than the befuddled stuttering you’re doing.

A familiar palm shoots to your raw neck—tender, inside and out—lightning quick. You're yanked up before you can blink. JT mercilessly nips at the gaps in between his tight grip, hips pushed just as firm against the swell of your backside.

Still, he furthers their madcap banter. “I dunno either, Josty. And, believe me, the little vixen sure as hell doesn’t make it any easier. Sometimes I think she’s tryna milk me dry for good.”

If Tyson Jost were ever going to cream his pants—post-pubescence, it would be now.

Like, right fucking now.

The proclamation of your third orgasm is wondrous. Proud. Grateful. One of your hands flies back to catch the nape of JT’s neck to steady yourself as he continues pistoning in and out of you. Tyson's generous touch stays, too.

Your back arches this go around, head rolling against your boyfriend's shoulder before slipping back down towards the counter, free palm absorbing the impact of the abrupt sway. Too much, too much—it’s all too much for your tender muscles and soupy brain to handle. You surrender to the plethora of sensations, each more overwhelming than the last—half-collapsed back against into your boyfriend, half-crumbled forward into his best friend’s damp, tented lap.

“Not gonna last, sweetheart—y’feel too damn good, s’tight and warm, always strangling my cock—know you’re close, too. Gonna give me what you promised, Compher? Please, pretty girl—need to feel your perfect pussy squeezin’ me dry.”

It's refractory; your world goes from washed-out to vivid and back, over and over, as though impatiently flipping between channels.

You’re a tangle of sticky limbs and physical reverie, blanketed by a warm afterglow and cleared air. Body scaffolded by muscular forms on either side, your mind gives your body permission to slacken at last. JT’s arm winds around your midsection when it becomes clear the all-consuming exhaustion is giving way to the relaxation that eluded you for so many months. Tyson massages your arms, your hands still cemented to his knees. Your head drops to his shoulder, too heavy for your bruised neck.

For a long while, no one says a thing. Not intentionally or for fear of disturbing the peace; there’s simply no need. No words exist to shoulder that much weight, none able to capture precisely what emotions swirl between you. Silence says enough—silence says it all.

Banging cuts through your sex-drunk stupor. Again. The abrupt sounds function like metaphorical smelling salts, restoring consciousness and rousing decorum laid dormant. Your mutual, unadulterated bliss circles the drain in the absence of a psychological plug, ripped free, half-baked.

JT reluctantly leaves you empty and dripping, tucks himself away, and cracks open the door—only as wide as is necessary. Behind his imposing physique, you remain hunched over Tyson, waiting for your boyfriend to make the problem go away; you’re too tired to take any initiative.

Golden hair and familiar grey-blue eyes fill the gap, shining in your periphery. Barely a sliver, that’s how much of this your boyfriend’s willing to share with the world. You like that, and judging by his lopsided grin, so does Tyson.

“Paging Mrs. Compher!” Gabe hollers over JT’s head. “Clean up on aisle ‘Kate.’”

Just hearing her name puts you back in action. Damn you, maternal instincts.

You scramble to right twisted fabric and smeared makeup to a soundtrack of expletives. It’s pointless, though, because nothing settles how it should. No amount of smoothing, brushing, or tucking seems to help. Hazy vision and the legs of a newborn fawn don’t exactly lend themselves to effective primping.

And it’s not like you’ve got a hickey-remover magic wand stashed in your purse, either. 

Accept your fate, you acquiesce with a sigh.

Tyson does a piss-poor job muffling his laughter, which lands him a crisp swat to the chest.

As you stumble over, you catch the end of your boyfriend’s irritation. “—and you’re sure there isn’t anyone else to hold her hair back? Why can’t you do it?”

The gears in Gabe’s skull clank so loud you can hear them over the audible chaos seeping into your haven—he’s intoxicated, not stupid.

“CupKate wants her mommy.” The blonde winks at you over JT’s shoulder. His tongue gives a knowing click of approval at Tyson’s equally disheveled state. “And what do you care, Compher? Smells like you three already made your express trip to Pound-town, USA. How was it? I hear the weather’s hot and steamy this time of year.”

“Real mature, Landy, real mature,” JT scoffs.

The sound just revs him up. “Says the fucker who’s locked in a frat house bathroom with his girlfriend and his best friend. One of whom, might I add, looks like they got mauled by a hormonal freshman after a high school dance.”

“Can you two go measure your dicks, I don’t know, anywhere but in the way? I have a child to tend to.” 

You almost have to laugh. At the situation and at the words coming out of your mouth. At Kate, sick to her stomach like a kid who ate too many sweets on a holiday. 

Years have passed, but you’re all still the same.

“Me-yeoh!” Gabe sing-songs while miming what you assume are claws scratching at nothing.

Again, his drink is the sole casualty of his jubilation. A golden wave sloshes over the rim and onto the floor. The spray makes JT’s jaw tick.

The former winger offers a sheepish grin in repentance. “Whoops?”

Your boyfriend steals a glance to check that you’re decent, then side-steps out of your way with an exasperated sigh. His dilated gaze flits over your ruffled appearance, shamelessly drinking in the state of your throat but tripping over the questions dancing in your eyes.

He juts his head in Landy’s direction with a sardonic eye-roll. “Go on. Save your damsel, Mother Hen. I’ll fill you in on in the Uber back to the hotel.”

“Meet you out front?” You ask, and he nods.

You dart back to Tyson, plant a chaste peck on his flushed cheek, and then repeat the gesture with JT and his peeved lips. It’s faint, but they instantly soften for you.

Before they know it, you’re slipping out the door. Gabe gets an affectionate pat on the shoulder as you squeeze by him before you disappear in the direction of the Girls Only bathroom; no significant differences, only marginally cleaner and occasionally stocked with helpful accouterment—chivalry isn’t dead!

Lingering in the wake of your departure, Gabe sways like an inflatable man on the curb of a car dealership. A smirk twists his lips. “Nicely done, boys. Nicely done. Can’t say I thought we’d see the day—or that either of you had it in ya—but I feel like a proud father.” He wipes a phantom tear, the final straw. “Makes you wish you listened to Daddy Landy sooner, huh? Think of all the lost ti—”

JT slams the door in his face. Through the wood, Gabe cackles.

The two men slip back into sync as they wordlessly scrape themselves back together with the time and privacy you were not afforded. 

As JT yanks his jeans back into place, his belt clanking around like a bell’s hourly chime, a black velvet box tumbles to the floor, and Tyson’s stomach along with it.

The air shouldn’t, but it turns on a dime. Their progress is seemingly more fragile than expected.

“If—uh, wow.” A crunchy, anxious bark of a laugh cuts his thought in half.

JT doesn’t interrupt; he holds space for the blossoming discomfort.

Tyson rubs the tense knots along the back of his neck as his eyes drill into the floor. “If I’d known this would be our swan song, I would’ve tried to enjoy it more. I don’t know—savored it, I guess?”

“This,” JT says, scooping up the dud he hopes isn’t hanging fire. “— is what I wanted to talk to you about earlier.”

Before they got into it in the garage, before they’d been forcibly separated by Erik and Nate. Before they, punch-drunk and drunk-drunk, teetered between tears and anger in the shadowy, too-quiet backyard.

They spun in circles until they had nowhere to move but on. To make amends, to stumble through chary half-apologies that mean more than they say.

JT’s alleviation was short-lived; his calm trepidation squashed before it could fly. Tyson now understands why.

Tyson balks. “Me?”

Your boyfriend sighs through his nose, pinching the bridge. He’s bidding time. Digging for the right words but knowing there are none.

“I love her—and I know you do, too. I’m not upset; she makes it hard not to fall for her.”

Tyson’s head hangs lower, chagrined.

JT continues, “I’m going to ask her to marry me, but I didn’t want to do it without talking to you. Without making sure you’d be okay. Eventually. The last thing I wanted was for you to be blindsided or to feel even more left out.”

Tyson can’t help but snort at the sheer absurdity. “Left out… God, how pathetic am I? Getting all butt-hurt over a relationship that isn’t even mine.”

“Pathetic was going AWOL.”

Josty winces. He doesn’t argue because he has zero ground to stand on.

“But feeling something? Far from it.”

“I didn't—don’t want to take her from you. You have to know that, Compher.” The hurt’s been hammered from his voice. Left behind is softened sincerity.

JT’s smile is just as downy. “I do, and you’d be wasting time by trying.”

Josty chokes on an unforeseen bubble of laughter.

You love JT Compher so openly and ardently it might as well be a neon sign plastered to your forehead. He’s always been it for you. There’s never been any competition, Tyson Jost included.

“Thank god we got this ironed out before the wedding,” the older forward chuckles as he leans back against the counter.

They’re side-by-side, as they should be.

“Why’s that?”

JT digs into his other pocket and pushes something into the palm of his best friend, whose cheeks flame tout de suite in response. With a bump of his shoulder, your boyfriend tacks on, “Something to remember tonight by.”

Tyson shoves the memento into his own pocket, then raises a quizzical brow.

Your boyfriend grins.

“The best man pining over the bride while giving the groom the cold shoulder would make for an awkward wedding, don’t you think?”

⤑ to my inbox💌

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All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 @holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

[headingalaxys-spicy]

America's Master List

The First of the new Master Lists for 2024! It still needs to have all of the newest works but some of them are on here already! Thanks for reading! There are so many of there crazy things their might be multiple for America XD jebus. But this is for you, like me, Alfred F. Jones simps, who need their content.

America and England with an S/O (Human AU)

Cardverse Senario

Cardverse Scenario: White Queen Taken from a Different Kingdom

Yandere America Cardverse

Yandere Demon America Headcannons

Demon Games: America

Spicy Yandere! Demon America  

Yandere Demon America w/Strong Escapee S/O 

Yandere Demon America with a Priestess S/O 

Yandere Demon America w/ a Yandere S/O 

Demon America w/ S/O that won his Bloody Money Game 

Demon America w/ Jealous S/O  

Demon America w/Stupid S/O that kept his coins  

Demon America w/Stupid S/O that kept his coins pt.2 (Spicy) 

Yandere Demon America w/ S/O who has awful parents  

Yandere Demon America w/ Demon Princess  

Yandere America x Reader (That has traits similar to Francis)  X Yandere France 

Yandere America with a Metal Head Darling with a Guitar

Yandere Mob Boss America 

Yandere Spain, Germany, America, North and South Italy with a wife who just found out that they're a mob boss

Yandere Demon America, England, Russia w/Ghost Reader  

Yandere Demon America w/ Smart human 

Yandere Demon America w/ Yandere Demoness S/O that captures him  

Yandere Demon America w/ Ancient Monster Darling 

Yandere Demon America w/ Angel Darling  

Birthday Drabble Demon America Club 27  

Yandere Demon America w/Dark Witch Darling 

Yandere Demon America: Family life with S/O

Yandere Demon America vs Demon Canada that love the same S/O 

Yandere Demon America & Russia w/ Supernatural Hunter Reader  

Yandere Demon America w/ Witch Darling pt.2  

Yandere Demon America x Right Hand Demon Darling  

Yandere America X Male Reader X Russia Captive  

Yandere Demon America x Dumbass reader 

Yandere Demon America claiming them for the first time after kidnapping  

Yandere Demon America x Dark Witch Darling p.3  

Yandere Demon America vs Demon Russia  

Yandere Demon America with Chaos Lord p.2

Yandere Demon Germany & Russia with a Chaos lord 

(I'm sure you're tired as hell from seeing the word 'Yandere' aren't you? America vs Russia as demons 

Yandere Demon America X Doomguy reader 

Yandere Demon America with a Succubus reader 

Yandere Demon America x Chaos Lord 

Yandere Demon America with an escapee human 

Demon America w/ Pervy Sage like S/O  

Yandere Demon America with a Heathen Goddess darling 

Yandere demon America with a Nephilim Darling 

Yandere Demon America and Japan with an Oni darling 

Demon King America with an experimental dragon darling 

Yandere America with Platonic Yandere Demonness 

Yandere Demon King America X Reader : Someone tries to assassinate you 

Yandere Demon America with a Half Human / Half Demon Darling 

Yandere Demon King America X Reader X Demon King Russia: Right-Hand Woman p.2 

Yandere Demon King America X Reader X Demon King Russia: Right Hand Woman P.3

Demon America with a Fem! S/O and a box of Chocolate

Yandere! Angel America & Germany in Luv with a demon 

America X Reader X Britain p.1  

America x Reader X Britain p.2 

America X Reader X Britain p.3 America Ending 

America x Reader X Britain p.4 England Ending  

Epilogue w/America  

Yandere Alpha 2p! America Headcannons 

Yandere America rejecting his Omega S/O only to realize that he misses them

What dog breeds that the Allies and the Axis are in the Omegaverse

Omega America Headcannons 

Yandere Alpha America and Germany w/ a darling that committed suicide 

Yandere Alpha America with an Alpha Darling 

Yandere Alpha America with an Alpha Darling p.2

Omega America tormenting his darling 

Differences between Yandere Alpha America and Yandere Omega America

The Emperor for Evil America 

The Sun, The Devil, Temperance, & Tower America, France, Romano, Spain, & Russia 

The World and High Priestess with the Allies 

Justice and the Devil 2p America

Club-27 pt. 2

The Longer Series (Or Lore within the stuff I write) I'm trying to work on: The Golden Nightingale, Peacekeepers (Omegaverse) and possibly Mating Season (Demon AU however that's likely to be more headcanons than storytelling)

Golden Nightingale Intro

Chapter 1: Tourmaline Daydream

Chapter 2: The Chaos

Mating Season

Yandere Demon Kings Lands 

Just more ramblings about how the Omegaverse AU is written 

Explanations on how you’re categorized in the Omegaverse 

Omega America on suppressants 

When two Alpha’s fight over an Omega 

How the capturing process works in the Omegaverse 

The successful Omega Rebellion hypothetical

[mamamittens]

I enjoy the random, naturally spawning "edgy au" that always ends up in fandoms. Particularly how different characters can be while still retaining a distant spark of their OG self.

I'm a filthy fucking heathen so my best examples of this is Hetalia and Undertale and I am so sorry if you're having war flashbacks right now but the aus for these were unreasonably good. Hell, Hetalia's low-key became canon and I'm still not sure how that happened.

But I do kinda wonder what that'd look like for One Piece. It's such a massive world that I genuinely haven't seen a cohesive au version outside of swapping roles or like, color variants for a few very specific characters.

Is dark au Marco just goth and low-key pretentious about being a Phoenix? Is dark au Luffy way more interested in killing his enemies (mayhaps some cannibalism if we're going particularly dark)? What the hell does dark au Thatch look like? The dark dark fruit and weirdly menacing "let's be friends" with mob boss vibes???

Is Whitebeard... What does Whitebeard look like??? Is he just straight up yandere or does he front really hard like he's "pretending" to do the family thing while being much more genuine in private. Just really fucking vicious about his recruitment to maintain an image that keeps outsiders away and on edge.

I feel kinda bad at this cause all my ideas just feel like mafia vibes, but that might be the point, idk.

I guess I just like the idea of a world so suffocating that everyone's wearing a cruel mask while maintaining small kindness in their private lives. Ready to lean into that dastardly persona but the minute you prove worth keeping there's hard earned warmth and sincerity. Maybe they hate it. Maybe they kind of like it. But the posturing dictates an alarming amount of their lives.

And then I like dumping Genuinely Just A Good Person in and watching the bafflement and horror that this person is just... Doing That. Being nice. Like they can't fathom someone having decency for everyone they meet. And... Maybe if I'm feeling spicy they get Feelings about that.

I'm also a slut for the protective/possessive thing (as though it's a secret at this point) so maybe that's not very surprising to hear.

[cyanide-e-pistachio]

Shuake Spicy Fic Recs✨

Hi everyone! I’ve noticed a lot of amazing Shuake fic rec posts, but not a lot when it comes to the spicier variety 🔥 so I’m gonna link a few of my favorites! When it comes to Shuake, I like dynamics of all varieties and read a lot based on mood. So I’ll try to divide these as best as I can!

What are my credentials, you may ask? I'm just a simple gal who likes to read and write :3

If You Want Something Deceptively Wholesome - The Joy of Asking for It by Stealth_Noodle (One-shot, 6k words)

A post-canon, established relationship fic that is simply a wild ride through and through, ending with a lovely little domestic scene that warms the heart <3 I love this author's writing style and how they make everything so engaging!

If You Want a Good Top!Goro Fic - Advantageous Positioning by coleslawed (One-shot, 7k words)

Starts off with a really captivating cold open, has a fun mini-character study of Akiren, and has a good, assertive Akechi! I remember really loving how this author could write such compelling prose.

If You Want a Good Top!Persona 5 Protagonist Fic - We'd Feed Well the Land and Worry the Sheep by cookietosser (Multichapter, 34k words)

This is an older fic, but still so good. If you want a confident, doting Akiren, this is the fic for you! It's set during Sae's Palace arc where the two start to bond through nap dates, things escalate quickly, and Akechi has a bit of a crisis about it, lol. Aside from the smut, this is also just a great fic overall and a true classic for me!

If You Want a Great Switcheroo - change places! by bangandawhimper (One-shot, 6k words)

I guess if I'm preferential to any dynamic, I love switching, and this one has that in spades. An unspecified AU fic where Akechi tries bottoming for once, much to his (initial) irritation. There were some moments in this fic where I genuinely laughed out loud.

If You Want Something Actually Hilarious - spin cycle by androgenius (One-shot, 6k words)

Again, another fic where I genuinely laughed out loud several times while reading. Akechi and Akiren are neighbors, and a lot of hilarious shenanigans regarding a washing machine ensue (and not in the way you'd think, you heathens!). The writing style makes it an absolute joy to read.

If You Want a Good Amount of Plot - Bullet with Butterfly Wings by CloudMenaceBird (Multichapter, 127k words)

If you want a good plot to go with some incredible smut, this is one of my favorites. It's just an amazing post-canon shuake fic where Akechi wakes up in the Velvet Room and manages to find Akiren again after the events of Royal's final Palace.

If You Want the Oddly Specific Category of “Two People Who Have No Idea What They’re Doing but Pretend to be Experienced Anyways” - what matters most is how you bring joy to life by futuresoon (One-shot, 8k words)

This is simply a classic, through and through. Pretty much everything by futuresoon is, but this is my personal favorite of theirs. I have nothing to say other than this is probably my favorite characterization of Akechi, and that all the subtleties in this work are *chef's kiss*

If You Want WHOLESOME WHOLESOME WHOLESOME - Fools Rush In by Atalan (One-shot, 35k words)

I actually read this work recently, and being. Simply. FLOORED by how good this fic is, and how much it establishes in a one-shot. Essentially, Akiren and Akechi speedrun their entire confidant on the day they first meet at the TV Station, and it has a delicious way of writing that "instant connection" vibe. And it's incredibly wholesome. That is all.

If You Want a New Fav - Good For You by Chaoticconstellation (Multi-chapter, 14k words)

This came out just recently, and it is a new favorite of mine! A wholesome fic where Akiren and Akechi agree to try an experiment to see if physical touch improves Akechi's mood. It features a very touch-starved Akechi Goro who needs (and gets) a hug.

If You Want a Classic - To Catch a Tiger Cub, One Must First Enter the Tiger’s Lair by AyuOakhay (Multi-chapter, 77k words)

This is my personal favorite Shuake fic ever! I don't know what draws me to it - maybe it's because it has a little bit of everything I like! And despite what the tags may suggest, it does have some surprisingly sweet moments. It also inspired my current work!

And there you have it! I have more I can think of and other oddly specific categories, so I may do a Part 2 one day! 💚

[proheromidoriyashouto]

can,,, can I have more juice for the spiceyheathens AU,,,, like holy shit I had no idea I needed this in my life until now like holy fuJrjsbr

ohh my gosh you want more spicyheathens juice?! im touched i haven’t thought about that one in a while. it’s an older au and standing WIP i return to once in a blue moon.

let’s see...

Shouto ropes in Natsuo and Fuyumi into lace-crafts to reclaim that family tradition and have a reason to spend time together

Rei has some of Shouto’s Youtube awards -- think the million subs diamond-- in her home on the mantle

she’s very proud of him for finding his own path in life and making something of himself outside of his father’s influence

Izuku works out a lot and does a couple extreme sports events every year to revive interest in quirkless events like the Olympics and the X Games

he inspires 2 billion people to do their best and internalize their self-worth so its a lot of pressure

Japan’s Hero Boards only list him in the Top 25 and no higher despite higher approval ratings and performance levels but this discrimination is nothing he hasn’t faced before. His career goal is to break the Top 10 in Japan. if he can do that much, he’ll retire happy

Izuku is kinda Suave^TM thanks to Tensei’s influence and he’ll drop compliments that make Shouto blush like crazy

Shouto kept up a work-out routine-- nothing as rigorous as hero training, just to stay in shape-- but he’s rusty with his quirk/s and even his ice will act out when he’s flustered enough

Izuku’s 6′1″ and heavy as fuck. Jamm fuckin’ packed with muscle. Shouto tries to give him a piggy back ride and almost breaks his back bcuz he is not built For This. Izuku does the carrying for the safety of all parties involved.

He does old-school strong man competitions like deadlifts and pulling planes and shit

Izuku puts on considerable winter weight and grows his beard out during cold months. Shouto approves.

Shouto is a regular at cons and usually gets swarmed with fans

Endeavor is convinced he’ll “snap out of it” and announce a return to heroism-- which he never really started-- at cons and always has people following him around so Shouto will wear disguises

He makes a game of it and will live-stream it. Fans who find him get suprise lace-crafts and those who help him avoid detection get boosts on his channel.

He’s got a special side-satchel/backpack just stuffed full of lacey goods to hand out bcuz one time he ran out and felt super bad about it. The Deku pins are on the inside flap so he isn’t identified by them

people know that he and Deku are together and Izuku sometimes joins in charity live-streams on 2-player games

they are really bad at Overcooked, Shouto backseat drives during Izuku’s Hollow Knight playthroughs even though he’s the only one who can complete a Steel Soul 5-hour speedrun, Izuku is bad at shooters but great at survival games.

they also do non-video game content like fan AMAs; Izuku will upload short clips of Shouto singing to himself while doing chores or doing lil victory dances; Shouto will upload clips called Deku Disasters where Izuku is Failing at basic tasks like walking up stairs or getting ice cubes out of the tray without breaking the marble sink

they go on dates to arcade bars and pet dogs (we have one of these where i live don’t know about elsewhere)

Izuku doesn’t get too many international calls bcuz hero associations discriminate but he’ll go abroad for quirkless awareness events and to surprise people who sent half-hearted wedding invites and such on twitter or whatever

uh is this enough juice?? thanks for liking this au!

[cyborg-franky]

Izou Masterlist

Izou x Gender Neutral Reader

++Hurt/Comfort++ With an S/O who overthinks Helping S/O with depression "I'll take care of you" Helping S/O with dealing with anger

++Angst++

++Headcanons++ With an S/O getting a tattoo for the first time Drinking with an S/O Aftercare Headcannons Halloween Headcannons First Date Pick up lines Blind Date Headcannons Spending the evening with Izou Reaction so S/O Wearing his clothes Reaction to S/O getting same jolly roger tattoo His love language Bathing/Showering with his S/O Dancing with their S/O With an S/O who is an artist Would he pass his driving test Guilty pleasures headcannons Reacting to someone checking them out As a wingman With S/O whose drunk

++Fluffy/Funny++ "This reminded me of you" “Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.” "I really want to kiss you right now."

++AU++Demon Summoning For Dummies Modern AU Band Modern AU Roommates Highschool AU

N/SFW Pieces Entire N/SFW Alphabet Spicy Oral Sex Headcannons Wearing lingerie for you [With Pictures] With S/O who accidental says ‘pops’ in bed [GN] With S/O who asks for sex casually [GN]

On Air Event [SFW + GN Reader] Cold Flyers Next To You Heathens I Would Do Anything For Love

[newtonsheffield]

Spicy Sunday request: in the world of the casual au, post them becoming officially official, Kate seduces Anthony in the office now that their silly rules like no office sex don’t apply. Please and thank you!!

Now, Because I'm a heathen, we're taking some inspiration from a certain Magazine cover that was announced yesterday.

you know the one

I'm Still at work, come meet me and we'll go to dinner.

The message had greeted Kate as she got off the train an hour ago. She'd spent a week in Liverpool dealing with some ridiculous dispute between corporate entities that had made her want to bang her head against the wall every day. She'd said as much to Anthony last night on facetime, propped up on the table next to her thai food, His hair flopping in his eyes as he smiled that stupid lopsided smile of his.

"Poor Katie, Do you need me to make you feel better?" His voice had been far too low, his eyes seeming to burn through the screen at her.

She'd forced herself to scoff, though a jolt had run down her spine almost immediately. "No, thank you. I can help myself."

His eyes had darkened, his smile turning a little feral. "Well I'd like to see that."

And part of her had been tempted to do it, she'd been aching for him all week. Since he'd kissed her on the train platform before she left, his voice low in her ear.

"I miss you already."

And really, two months after their relationship officially started, she wouldn't have thought she would miss his presence so much, but by the second night it felt like her chest was aching, and really, they didn't even live together yet. She'd sat, every night in the sweater she'd stolen from him on the first morning she'd woken up as his girlfriend, the one she'd peeled off him the night before, her teeth trailing down his chest. The one she let him wear once every few weeks so it smelled of him, and her thoughts had wandered to him.

But no, apparently she'd decided to tease him, just to see his brow furrow.

She'd taken the sweater off instead, sat in her bra and said

"This is all you get tonight, But if you want to help yourself, I won't complain." His Hand had been in his sweatpants before she'd blinked.

So no, she really didn't want to go to dinner now, what she wanted, was, quite frankly, a good hard shag. And fortunately, she was under no illusions about who her boyfriend was.

She'd slipped into the bathroom in the lobby of the building and slid out of her clothes, retying her coat tightly around her before marching towards the elevator, the doors sliding open and- Oh for Fuck's sake.

"Kate! Hey!" Brian sneered, his eyes raking down her form she forced herself not to squirm.

"Brian." Kate slid round him into the lift, pulling her arm from his reach just in time. "Please don't touch me."

Brian frowned, "So you and Bridgerton are still-?"

The lift doors had mercifully started closing as Kate said , "Brian even if we weren't, it's never happening."

The office was quiet when the doors slid open, she could see the light of Anthony's office on in the distance, her heart thrumming as she made her way towards it. And there he was, spinning idly in his chair, his tie a little undone, his sleeves rolled up, his waistcoat still on but jacket abandoned, his hair falling into his eyes. And fuck he was so handsome it made her heart burst, as he stared down at his phone as though he was waiting for something.

"You know, all work and no play makes Anthony a very dull boy."

He shot up at the sound of her voice, his eyes widening, a smile on his face, "You didn't text me back."

"Did you think I wasn't coming?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, maybe you ran off with Brian."

Kate rolled her eyes walking further into the office, "I'm pretty sure Brian would be a lousy shag honestly. He's surely compensating for something."

Anthony smirked, tugging her closer, his chest puffing a little proudly. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me too." She couldn't help but smile down at him, when he looked at her like that, with his eyes shining.

"I got you a present from Liverpool."

"Cool. I got us a reservation at-"

"We're not going anywhere, Anthony." Kate sighed, tugging his hand to the belt of her coat.

Anthony's brow furrowed, "But... aren't you hungry?" christ he was dense sometimes.

"I hope you are." She tugged on his hand, the belt untying slowly, Anthony swallowing convulsively, a gasp falling from his lips as he saw only tight black lace stretched across her skin. His eyes darting up to hers.

"You said I wasn't allowed to at work." The slight edge of petulance made her smile as she pulled the coat from her shoulders, settling herself on the desk directly in front of him. She tugged him forward by the tie, the wheels of his chair sliding easily forward, until he rested between her thighs, a soft moan escaping him.

"Well we broke all the other rules. I think this is fair, don't you?"

Anthony nodded eagerly, his hands already tight on her hips, his thumbs dipping under the waistband.

"Now I think you said you wanted to make me feel better." She barely got it out before the scrap of lace was torn from her, Anthony's tongue moving over her, hot and hard and unrelenting, the silky strands of his hair slipping through her fingers sinfully, his stubble scraping against her as her hips canted forward, Anthony's moan sending a shiver down her spine.

It felt like all the air had been sucked from the office, Anthony's arm tight around her waist, anchoring her in place as he forced her closer and closer to the edge,

"Eyes on me Kate." His voice was rough, her eyes locking with his as his tongue started moving again, his fingers joining his tongue and-

"Oh Fuck!" He'd forced her over the edge, his arms gripping her to him even as he pulled back, a smug smile on his face as her shoulders heaved.

"Feel better?" He looked far too smug, far too satisfied. She'd have to fix that. She forced herself off his desk, pushing his chair backwards, watching as his eyes clouded, her hands tugging at his belt, forcing his trousers down as she straddled him. A whine escaping his chest.

"Not yet."

" I can fix that." It was a groan really, his hands tight on her hips again, encouraging them to rock against his, And How had it only been five days? it felt like a lifetime, since she'd had his firm body against hers, rocking into hers, his eyes locked with hers before his eyelids fluttered closed, his head falling against her chest, burying itself there, his voice wrenched from his chest muffled against hers.

Kate, Kate Kate, I love you, I love you,

Her own voice cracking as it left her chest, Anthony I love you too, it's so good I missed you.

The sound of them echoing through the office, their chests heaving, and then everything fell apart. Her voice breaking as a soft scream tore through it, Anthony's own sharp cry muffled by her chest as she shuddered against her.

His eyes were still cloudy when he tilted his head back, their lips finally meeting, tongues tangling lazily.

"I've changed my mind." He pushed his hair from his eyes leaning back in his chair to look at her. "You should go away all the time if it'll be like this when you come back."

Kate chuckled, "Sure. I'll remember that when you say No, Katie please stay, stay forever."

"Well I guess that's as goos a segue as any to what I wanted to ask you tonight," He tucked his hand into the waistcoat he was still wearing, fishing something out. Kate's brow furrowed as she stared down at the tiny brass key. "Wanna bring that loaf of bread you call a dog and move in with me?"

Kate's heart was pounding in her chest. "You're asking me this now? When I'm in my underwear?"

Anthony smirked, "In my plan you weren't in your underwear, so don't blame me for that. Yes or No?"

Kate sighed, "Well, I think Newton would be sad if I said no, so... yes just for him."

As Anthony's lips met hers again it occurred to Kate that maybe doing this at work hadn't been such a great idea, because they wouldn't be ready to leave for quite some time.

[contact-right]

felineee tell me more about the bradnate formula 1 au?!1 Came across it and i'm curious. The boys in tight race suits>>>>>>>>>>

Anooooonn!!!! YES, you know it haha. Thank you so much because I do have a massive earworm about this au and now I can ramble about it. More under the cut because I went off lol.

Okay okay, so Brad is totally an aggressive driver. You give him an inch and he will squeeze through. He will never intentionally endanger anyone, ever, the sport is already dangerous enough as it is, but he will take risks that some may consider a bit overboard. Brad disagrees, of course, he knows what he's doing. There's a reason he's in the cockpit and the naysayers are on the couch watching him on their tv. Brad has a talent for approaching corners at maximum speed, braking much later, and going for a tighter line than other drivers. A bit Schumacher-esque if you will. With a weird setup no one else will ever be able to drive in. Brad is never overly emotional on radio. He's cool as a cucumber and always respectful of his team and drivers around him. Except in rare instances, like when something happens outside of his control. The engine giving out or someone else pushing him off the track with a dumb move. Brad will bitch then, and it's the stuff of legend.

Nate can be equally aggressive, and they're both very similar there, but he's a bit 'cleaner' than Brad. Also, he can recount all the rules and regulations out loud in his sleep and uses it; ea vettel's double overtake in the pit lane during the 2016 chinese gp while there was a safety car, which was totally allowed, but I remember being confused for a moment lol. Nate is definitely that type of dude. He's a steel wall when he's defending, won't easily give way in corners and has great tire management. He's more chatty on radio and likes to know what's going on at all times on the track. Equally respectful of his team but does have some moments where he alters/defies a few strategic decisions when he feels his view on the current situation is more accurate.

What else... Okay, so I like to think Brad and Nate have known each other from way back. Like early karting days or a bit further ahead in F2. In the beginning, they did have a rivalry, but that quickly changed into a friendship born out of mutual respect, admiration, and understanding. They acknowledge each other's talent and easily got along and kind of fell into a groove. Like the 'I didn't realize we were friends but guess what now we're suddenly hanging out almost 24/7' kind of thing. They also really enjoy battling it out on the track.

When the story starts, they're both in F1 and on opposing teams. I think I'd put Nate driving for Mercedes and Brad for RBR. Nate already won a championship last season (2 already, maybe? like maybe his dad was a famous driver so the door to getting a seat was a bit easier for him than for Brad. He did have to prove himself of course, and he's very talented, but you know nepotism and all that. And while he's very proud of his dad and looks up to him, he's very keen on making a name for himself). He started in F1 for McLaren or something something, before getting a contract with Mercedes and driving alongside Mike. Mike already won a few championships, and he likes to give him some pointers. Brad started with Williams or something something driving with Tony before moving on to RBR with Ray. Brad and Tony are still best buds and Ray definitely did a stint with Nascar in-between seasons at one point because of course he did. This season RBR's cars can easily keep up with the cars of Mercedes thus Brad and Nate are battling for the world championship.

The press likes to spin a heated rivalry between these two as mentioned in the post, and Brad taking advantage of that to be a little shit (this man hates the press with a passion and gets a kick out of pestering Nate), and Nate reciprocates in kind, but what if they do actually get a bit more spicy?? Like Brad being a heathen trying to overtake in a sharp corner and Nate being very stubborn and not giving way at any cost and they end up crashing, taking them both out of the race, and Brad is pissed and Nate is pissed and you know, tension, drama fueled by a bit more scathing remarks during the next press conference, a little angst here and there because what if the other got seriously hurt? And you know, they're both very driven (pun intended) to win. It's one of the reasons why they get along so well. Understanding and a shared passion and yada yada.

And somewhere deep down, they probably know they're in love, but they just don't realize it yet. Like maybe somewhere at the end of the season, or no to make it more dramatic, right before the summer break, there's another incident on the track and after they both safely get off, they're really riled up and beyond frustrated and there is this moment of 'I want to punch you or kiss you.. wait what?' And maybe they do, kiss that is, but it's complicated. In whatever way you spin it, sadly F1 is still currently not the most supportive lgbtq+ environment ever. If it ever came out it would be a big deal. Nate being the sacrificial lamb that he is, tells Brad that they can't, even though it felt anything but, but Nate knows how much Brad wants to win that championship. How much he just wants to drive. They both live for it and he's afraid it will be taken away. Of course Brad doesn't take it well, he isn't stupid, he knows, and tries to shrug it off and brush it under the rug. That never happened, let's move one. Which of course proves to be very difficult. Nate meanwhile feels terrible about it too, thinking he did the right thing, for himself and for Brad, but it's just a big mess. Their friendship deteriorates and isn't the same. There's no easygoing 'let's meet somewhere quiet to escape all the bullshit for a few minutes' hiding behind a motorhome and talking about everything and nothing.

I don't know if I ever do end up writing it lol. Like I love the idea of it and that sport is insane. The fucknuttery that happens and the drama, man it's unreal and hilarious. And Rudy and Pappy being Ferrari bro's. Tony using his platform to shed some light on different issues. Brad actually liking Trombley's deranged rookie driving because he admires the audacity. Twitter drama. Ray starting the Twitter drama. Brad unintentionally starting the Twitter drama. #peanutbuttergate2021

But I'm not a full-fledged expert on the sport whatsoever so I'm afraid of making silly mistakes and on top of that I don't even have a driver's license yet lmao. Maybe I'll make a fun manip one day or something if it never happens haha.

Anyway thanks for the ask anon, sorry this took a bit longer to answer. I love you 💜💜

[numptypylon]

“You’re the guy asking about the room?”

“Yeah… I’m Callum. And you’re Rayla?”

“Yep. So, you’re not from around here, I take it? And also a pie-heathen. Because no-one in the know orders Barius’ spicy pies, they have a reputation. Gotta know these things about a housemate, see.”

“The pie was really good! Could you tell him? If you see him? How do you do that… ‘compliments to the chef’ thing, without sounding pretentious?”

“Like you just did, I think,” she snickered. “And… you’re really not from around here, huh?” Oh, accent. Or… face, but he really hoped that wasn’t what she meant.

“No, I’m studying abroad,” he said. “But I’m… thinking about… not doing the studying part anymore. And getting a job instead, at least for a little while, while I… figure things out.” Oh yes, advertising not having an income or a life plan to essentially your prospective landlady. The Callum-Classic guide to first impressions. “Um. I have money for a few months’ rent.” And his dad would lend him money if he asked, he just really hoped he wouldn’t have to, because Harrow would already not be thrilled if he went and dropped out of art school.

You can read more of the first chapter of Homeward Bound on Ao3. It’s a prequel to Home Free, set in the cottage cuddles au, sloooow-burn housamates-to-lovers

[searchingforbucky]

Fic Rec (Part 19) :)

Hi everyone! And welcome to day 1273198172 of quarantine lol. On a serious note, I hope you all are staying safe, happy, and healthy. I know these stories in this list provided me much needed entertainment for the past week or so, and I’m hoping they will help you all the same. I love this AU, its always so fun to see the different routes people take, so without further ado welcome to the Vampire!Bucky Rec List :) *** Means Smut Sorry its a bit short, theres not many out there. The links weren't working so there is none in this.

Biting Cold by @hootyhoobuckaroo

OK so this one I think is a perfect start to the vampire list. This one is absolutely fantastic. So it’s about Bucky and the reader being in a pre-establish relationship, when suddenly some freaky stuff starts happening very close to home. So Buckys a Vampire, and the reader doesn’t know it. But the reader is terrified of vampires. Obviously that causes a little problem. I just really liked how unique of a storyline this was, I love just how genuine the fear was and the emotions they had were. It constantly kept me on the edge of my seat because I was wondering what was gonna happen. I am absolutely in love with protective bucky so you know that this has it lol. And honestly I just really loved how one it was well written, but to reply with something that I had never read before. And I don’t wanna spoil it or anything, but it was just a real nailbiter. Definitely recommend. 

All My Friends Are Heathens by @sebseyesandbuckysthighs ***

OK, so I think this one was the first vampire Bucky story that I ever read, and it’s absolutely fantastic. So this one is about Bucky being a vampire, and he’s amongst the avengers who are all their own sort of “monster“. And the reader comes to visit them, and Bucky is just absolutely drawn to her, and unfortunately she is human. I think my favorite thing about this story is just how well drawn out each character is, I was absolutely invested in not only their relationship growing, but the whole storyline in general. I was obsessed in learning about what the different monsters were, what their little thing was that they did. And I really loved how absolutely cocky and mysterious Bucky was. This one is smutty, but nothings wrong with that LOL. This is just a really good, really head turning story. A lot of twists in this

Bad Things by @xbuchananbarnes *** (kinda)

All right, now this one is really something. So this one was incredibly interesting. It’s about Bucky in the reader being in a pre-established relationship, and he promised to turn her when she turns 28, but in the meantime he makes her move to 10 different places so that way she can get used a whole bunch of different things that she would have to win when she does actually become a vampire. I really liked how mysteries this one is, just how sweet they are together. The fact that her 10th Pl. is what it is, for the reason it is, is something that is incredibly sweet to me.  anyways, I loved seeing all of the little snippets in to how they met, and everything like that. but I really honestly just love how sort of vague it is? If that makes sense? Like there are so many possibilities that your mind is running for miles after you read it. It’s one of those stories that you just keep thinking about, you keep thinking about what the other eight places were, what’s going to happen in the future it’s really awesome. The sequel is even wilder lol.

Thirsty by @jobean12-blog ***

So this one is a short yet sexy little Drabble. It’s technically a vampire Bucky, though it’s not necessarily like a main focus of the story. But I really liked it so I’m going to include it anyway. This one is just you know really cute. It shows the fun little feisty side to them, it’s pretty sexy, some dirty talk that’s like....damn lol. But I really just like stories that show couples are kind of so obsessed with each other, and so in love with each other, that they’re able to have fun in that way no matter where they are. I really liked it 

Craving You by @propertyofpoeandbucky ***

So this one is really cool, this one is about vampire Bucky and succubus reader. It is a compilation of little drabbles, and it’s really interesting. So I love seeing the dynamic between the two of them, just how interesting it is to see how they deal with their lifestyles, and having to do it together. And stuff happens that they have to navigate how they’re going to deal with it. I don’t wanna spoil it but it something that is very interesting to see. It’s also kinda smutty so that’s nice hahaha. Just a really cute, really interesting story

Blood Bound by @the-omni-princess ***

Ohhhhhh man! Now this one! This one is like a TV series I swear, like vampire diaries but a lot better. So this one is about vampire Bucky and a witch reader. And it is so freaking good, and so interesting. So currently is on hiatus, but I thought it was awesome enough to put it in there anyways. Because it doesn’t matter how much of it there is, what there is is amazing. It is like so nailbiting, there’s so many twists and turns and angst, but it’s also incredibly cute. i’ve never read a story like this, and I’m not sure if anybody else could do it like this. And I love how the soulmate idea is interwoven in there, I’m a sucker for soulmates. Honestly it’s like every trope that I love is somehow in this story, but it’s not overwhelming, it’s just really well done. In the world that’s created is so immersive and awesome

In the Dark by @persephone-is-here-omg​

All right, I really like this one too. I think my favorite part about this one is the fact that it relates Canon Bucky to vampire but you. It talks about how Hydra made him a vampire and the torture that he went through because he was a vampire. I really like how it didn’t completely get rid of his story, it wasn’t fully an AU, and that’s so interesting and cool to me man. And I also thought it was interesting seeing all the small little snippet into their relationship. It’s interesting to see EV juxtaposition of how she willingly gives up everything for him, but he got that stuff stolen from hydra. It’s just a really interesting story

Sunshine by @iwillbeinmynest ***

​Alright so this one was amazing. This one is about vampire Bucky, and it’s honestly pretty sad, at the beginning he had basically resigned himself to live a life in the cold. However he needs the reader who somehow can make him feel warm. And that was honestly the cutest part of the story, just how much he loved feeling warm, and she made him feel warm in so many different ways both physically and emotionally and it was so soft. But don’t let that trick you into thinking that this is just a soft story, there are absolutely some crazy things happening in the story. And I absolutely love Tony in this, I think it’s a great representation of him. Such a really awesome story

Men of the Moon by @hellomissmabel

So this one is really cool. It is a vampire diaries a you. It’s also kind of a Stucky x reader but not a Stucky fic if that makes sense? Like Bucky x reader and Steve x reader but no throuple. Obviously, that would be weird because they’re brothers lol. Anyways, now that I just rambled through that. I really love this. I think that all of the characters fit into the vampire diaries characters very well. I’ve honestly never liked vampire diaries, but this made me really like it LOL. I think it was done so much better than the actual show was, why couldn’t the show be like this. anyways, it was just so interesting to read the dynamic between the three characters, and everyone else really. I also loved just how invade the ending was, it’s like I can imagine so many different things happening after it and that’s always something that’s really nice with the story when I can kind of finish it myself.

Hungry Eyes by @lenavonschweetz ***

OHHHHHH this one is SPICY lol. Bucky is one cocky son of a gun. So this one is about vampire Bucky, and for the betterment of the town, him and the reader make a pact that he would feed off of her to avoid suspicion. Except for he would only feed on her wrist because anything else is too intimate. Well that went out the drain real fast. This one was honestly kind of just straight smut lol, but there’s some plot in there that’s really awesome. There’s some awesome tropes, friends to lovers, cocky Bucky, vampire Bucky, SMUT. It all comes together to form a really interesting really well done story. I really liked it  

In the Dark by @waiting4inspiration ***

Oh man, so this one is really interesting too. So this one is about vampire Bucky and werewolf reader, and the reader is an arranged marriage with werewolf Steve. There is a sort of creature war between vampires and werewolves, and that leads to a bunch of problems. But surprise surprise, the reader falls in love with her sworn enemy. And that’s awesome, I love those tropes. I think it’s Really incredible just how well she balances the two worlds, it’s way better than twilight I’ll tell you that right now LOL. But I just really love the dynamic between everybody, there’s angst, there’s fluff, there’s never a time when you’re bored. It’s just left and write something that either leaves you on your toes you’re feeling everything at once. It’s really great. It’s not finished yet but what it’s there is amazing.  

Special: For Heavens Sake by @221bshrlocked​ ***

wow OK, talk about unique. So this one is a vampire reader story, but it was so cool I have to include it. So obviously it’s vampire story obviously, but it also an ABO story, like whaaaaat. So ABO is admittedly the main aspect of a story, but I just thought it was absolutely incredible how well they combined the two tropes. I loved how oh much fuck he was actively trying to be with her, I really love the dynamic between them. I really loved how raw and genuine emotions are, I can’t imagine how scared them both must have been during certain parts of the story, I’m not gonna spoil it but there were definitely some parts where I was on the edge of my seat wondering what was gonna happen because it was so interesting. There was so much happening in the story and it was just awesome.

Thank you all for reading, again, sorry its so short. and sorry it took so long lol. I appreciate you all. :)

[goodyeartheshippycat]

Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply (see additional tags) Relationships: Ethos/Phobos, Deimos/Praxis

Summary: A modern-setting AU in which Jules (Phobos) the high-strung Londoner visits the Scottish countryside for some relaxation and has a meet-cute with Aidan (Ethos) the sheep farmer while en route to the B&B where he is staying. Sheep-related antics ensue. Somehow, against all odds, Jules leaves his heart at the gateway to the Highlands.

It’s back! It’s back! As promised, the long-awaited return of Scottish AU. And it’s the spicy chapter :D 

Continuing on a theme from my last post for a chapter of this fic, almost a year and a half ago (sob sob), Irn-Bru is an oft recommended cure for hangovers in Scotland. When the makers of Irn-Bru recently (read: recently-ish as of a year and a half ago... not so recently now) decided to change the recipe, there were practically riots. Having had it prior to the change, and since visiting an imports store to pick up a can for very serious research purposes, I personally can’t taste much difference. However, that probably just marks me out as a heathen sassenach who can’t pick out the fine variations between proper Bru and the swill they export.

Whom whomp. That was a much more timely joke back when I originally started writing this chapter. Oh well, fewer delays with the next one! I’m determined!

Also, this might be the first fic where I’ve actually written about them using condoms? Modern AUs are weird. We’re not in magic future space-land with no STIs any more! Wild. Lube continues to be just as important in any time period, though. 

/obligatory rant about lube

[jungshookz]

Ramenboy!tae who works at a lil ramen joint and ur dragged there by Jungkook who loves to abuse Tae’s employee discount and wow they have a competition — eat this massive bowl of ramen in ten minutes and get free ramen for a month and u cannot lose to this heathen known as Jungkook and now u’ve made an awful first impression on Tae and ur mortified but he’s just impressed~ and high key thinks ur cute and now Jungkook needs to play matchmaker in the most disastrous way possible (cue chaos) 🔥anon

→ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

→ genre: nonidol!au, ramenboy!tae, comedy, tiny pinch of fluff, jungkook is an idiot and you might be one too because you just ate a gigantic bowl of ramen 

→ wordcount: 3.8k 

→ note: i’m sorry this took so lonG! u sent this in a while ago but i saved it in my notes because it’s.,, so cute,., this is less about taehyung and more about kook and y/n competing with each other lol!!!! my stomach exploded just thinking about eating five pounds worth of ramen idk how y/n did it 

(gif isn’t mine!) (also i was ecstAtic when i found this gif!!!! how pErfeCt)

this has quite possibly been one of the worst weeks in your entire life

you don’t know how it’s happened but on every single day of the week something has gone wrong for you

monday - your alarm didn’t go off so you accidentally skipped two veRy important lectures that were crucial for the finals

tuesday - your alarm diD go off but when you got to your first class (on time!) you didn’t realise that your prof sent out an email in the morning saying that there was a room switch for the day and the room was in a building located all the way on the oTHER end of campus so you basically missed out on half that lecture

wednesday - you have a big gap between classes on wednesdays so usually you just hang out and study in the library buT when you got there someone had taken your favourite spot so you were forced to go to the really, really quiet study area (no one’s allowed to make a peep otherwise ya get the booT) and when you stepped in you stumbled over someone’s laptop charger that was plugged into the wall and literally fell the floor in less than a millisecond with a big SMAK and everyone in that room looked like they wanted to rip your head off (especially the owner of the laptop charger)

thursday - you ordered a chocolate almond milk and banana smoothie because you wanted to treat yourself but somehow they fucked up your order and it tasted like they threw oranges into your smoothie instead of bananas and by the time you decided you wanted to go back and demAnd that they fix your order the line was like a hundred feet long so you were forced to throw out your $10 smoothie

friday - todAY,., you got your grades back for your midterms and uh.,,. all i’m going to say is u might want to spend a little more time studying and a little less time on tumblr

whatever

you’re just glad it’s finally friday because you are going to hibernate in your room over the weekend to recover from everything

you were going to head straight back to the apartment after classes today but jungkook insisted that you guys hang out today!!! even though you basically see each other every day!!!!

unfortunately you’re just not in the mood to do anything because you’re grumpy and tired

also it’s that time of the month

so like

you really reALLY aren’t in the mood to do anything

but of course

because it’s jungkook

he didn’t give you a choice (he dropped to his knees and literally just started sCREAMING until you said you would hang out with him and then he hopped back up onto his feet and was like heehee oki!! let’s go, friend!!!! as he wasn’t just screeching a lung out in the middle of the schoolyard a second ago)

and this is where he decides to take you

a dinky ramen joint in the city

“why couldn’t we just have gone to watch a movie?” you groan and flop your head back “also we had lunch like two hours ago-“

“and your point is??” jungkook scoffs as he flips through the menu

“if we eat now it’s going to ruin our appetite for dinner and thaT’s going to throw everything off course- hey quit iT” jungkook reaches back blindly to whack your face gently to shut you up

ur a great person and he likes u a lot but you need to relax ur asshole sometimes (he literally said that to you within the first week of knowing you and when you gawked and responded with ‘my asshole is SO relaxed and loOSE right now!!!!!!’ in the middle of the cafeteria he knew that this friendship was meant to be)

“listen, i was craving ramen and i always come here because i know one of the guys who works here so i always get a discount…” jungkook trails off as he continues looking through the menu “okay, i know what i want!”

“okay give me a second to- woAh-“ jungkook drags you into the restaurant before you get a chance to look at the options

oh

this place is a lot bigger than it looks

spacious booths on both sides with obscenely red leather seats

square tables scattered around the place

it seems like it’s doing pretty well in terms of business because almost all of the tables are full

“jungkook!” both you and kook turn at the source of the sound

who is

who is tHAT

floppy, soft brown hair peeking out from behind a red bandana

a little blue apron wrapped around his tapered waist

a stained white v-neck (it looks vEry good on him and usually u hate v-necks on guys)

and his smile is very.,,. boxy?

your eyes widen when he approaches you two

you immediately duck behind jungkook and pray to god that you look somewhat presentable

you look down at your outfit

okay

jeans and a cute little flowery blouse

okay!!! not bad!!! hopefully your eyeliner hasn’t moved from your eyes to your chin tho

“hey, man!” they do one of those bro-hug things and he gives jungkook a couple pats on the pack

jesus

even his hand is hot

“table for one, as per usual?”

oh my god

and that voiCE?

silky smooth is the only way to describe it

“i actually brought someone with me this time! this is y/n.” jungkook points behind him and you poke your head out a little

taehyung tilts his head to get a better look at you and he offers you a warm smile

your heart skips a beat and you feel your cheeks grow warm

“ah, so this is a date?”

“taehyung, please.” jungkook scoffs and pauses “…my standards are higher.”

“hEy-“ you scowl and smack his arm before moving out from behind jungkook

you turn to face taehyung and you smile shyly “hi”

he sticks his hand out for you to shake and you take it graciously

he gives you a firm shake

“hi! i’m taehyung but you can call me tae if you’d like. any friend of jungkook’s is a friend of mine!” he grins and grabs two menus from the front before leading you guys to a booth in the back

you slide in on one side and jungkook slides in on the other side

taehyung hands each of you a menu

“i’ll be back with some water and to take your orders in a couple minutes!”

“okay, thank you!” you chirp and let your eyes linger for a couple seconds as taehyung walks off to wait on another table

jungkook narrows his eyes at you for a brief second

interesting

veRy interesting

“ah, let’s see what’s good…” jungkook hums and opens up the menu while stroking his chin

what a dork

“you literally jusT checked out the menu outside-“  

“hey. look at this!” jungkook pulls a flyer out of the menu before flipping it over to show you

he wiggles his eyebrows

you squint and lean forward to read the small text

you should’ve brought your reading glasses with u

“the big bowl challenge… finish a five pound bowl of ramen in ten minutes and get free ramen for a month-“ your eyes widen and you pull away as if jungkook just zaPPed you “are you insane?! five pounds???”

“it wouldn’t hurt to try!!! if you finish the bowl, it’s free!!! and free ramen for a month?!” jungkook points to the flyer again

“well, you go ahead and enjoy filling yourself up, i’m just going to get a normal sized bowl of ramen.” you scoff and shake your head as you flip through the menu

their new spicy ramen looks pretty good

you might go for that one

ooH and it comes with a side of dumplings for $2 extra

“you just don’t wanna do it because you know you’re going to lose.” jungkook sighs and leans back against the booth and casually flips through his menu

you drop your menu and gawk at him “wha- lose?? trust me, if we were to compete, you would be the loser here.”

“all bark, no bite…”

you clench your jaw in frustration and let out a huff

jungkook knows how competitive you are and he knows exactly which buttons to press to get you to fall for his tricks every single time

he’s so sneAKy

“c’mon, let’s do it together! i know how to make things more interesting. not only will we be racing against the clock - we will also be racing against each other.”

huh

that doEs make things more interesting

“what happens if i beat you?” you raise a brow and put the menu down

your spicy ramen and dumplings can wait for next time

“mm… i’ll buy you smoothies for a week. and if i win, you have to do my laundry for a week.”

oh groSS

you don’t want to do jungkook’s laundry

he has spiderman boxers with holes in them n stinky socks

but those smoothies are expensive

and really yummy

are you reALLY going to force yourself to consume a five pound bowl of ramen just to shove it in jungkook’s face

also,…,., do you really want taehyung to sEE you consume a five pound bowl of ramen

“-and i will be partaking in your ramen competition.” you snap out of it when you realise jungkook’s already ordering for you guys “and we’re alsO going to compete against each other to see who can finish their bowl the fastest!”

you can’t really change your mind now

you’re not a coWARD

you sit up a little straighter before propping your chin up on your palm and reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind ur ear

hopefully u look cute under this dim lighting

“oh, really?” taehyung looks between the both of you before scribbling it down on his soup-stained notepad “my money’s on y/n.”

“you’re a traitor.” jungkook responds immediately and slaps his menu shut “y/n’s going down and she’s going to do my laundry for a week.”

taehyung gasps lightly before shaking his head and tuning to look at you “god y/n.,., you better win because one time jungkook left a pair of socks at my place and i swear to god i was this close to moving out because of the stench… i don’t want anyone having to go through the pain of-”

“okAY okay don’t u have a job to do???” jungkook scowls and hands his menu to tae and you do the same

“i will return shortly with two monstrous bowls of ramen!” taehyung chirps and heads off towards the kitchen

you let out a little sigh before leaning back against the booth

jungkook clears his throat

“what… was that?”

“what are you talking about?”

“y’know, the-“ jungkook starts giggling like a maniac and reaches up to pretend to tuck hair behind his ears over and over again “that!”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about. also, just out of curiousity-“ you take a small sip of water, “how do you know taehyung?”

jungkook pokes his tongue into his cheek before leaning back and crossing his arms

“why do you ask?”

“i told u it was out of curiosity” you respond innocently and shrug

“we’re in the same literature class. he’s a pretty nice guy!” jungkook nods before going quiet “.,,.,.he’s also a pretty single guy.”

you give him a pointed look “don’t do that.”

“what?? you were curious and i answered your question!”

“i’m terminating this conversation.” you roll your eyes and cross your arms

jungkook hums and leans over to check out the little boxes of extra toppings on the side

pretty standard stuff

extra green onion.,.some ginger.,,. salt, pepper, chilli powder

“you ever think about how long it takes for people to shred green onion into these thin little-“

“how long have you known him for?”

jungkook’s shoulders droop

obviously this conversation has been resurrected from your termination

“ah… almost a year?” he shrugs and peeks into the little pot of shredded green onions

you gawk at him and lean forward

“…and you didn’t think to introduce me to him until now-“

“i thought you weren’t interested.” jungkook slaps the ceramic lid back onto the pot

“i’m just making conversation”

“i juSt tried to make conversation about green onions and you completely shut that down-“

“also, going back to my point, i never even asked you if he was single or not, all i asked you was how-“

“but if you were to ask me if he was single or not then i would respond with, yes, y/n, taehyung is very single and i’m sure-“

“alrighty, here we go!” you immediately shut up and give jungkook a warning look when taehyung appears at your table carrying two trays propped up on his shoulders

you swallow thickly when you see his biceps flex slightly

.,,.yes.

Yes To All Of That.

taehyung sets your bowl down in front of you carefully as to not have any soup splash out-

oh god

this bowl is.,., it’s a loT bigger than you thought it would be

there are like four boiled eggs in here

a tiny mountain of shredded green onion

six pieces of seaweed

ten thin slices of pork

you reach up and tie your hair up into a ponytail

ya gotta put the hair up when it’s time to get down n dirty

“get ready to lose, y/l/n” jungkook grins and rubs his hands together in anticipation

“in your wildest dreams, jeon.” you snap back immediately and pick your chopsticks up

“since you guys are competing, i brought two timers for you“ taehyung plops two little clocks down in between the two of you and you make sure to smile politely at him before looking back at your bowl

you don’t mean to brush him off but you’re tryINg to figure out the most strategic way to finish a bowl of ramen this big

and so it goes

the next ten minutes of your life will be the most important ten minutes in your entire life

here’s your game plan:

eat aLL the toppings first to get them out of the way

just go hAM on the slurping

use your chopsticks to really shovel and paCK the noodles into your mouth

if necessary don’t even chew!!!! just swALLOW

and then at the end chug down the broth because by the time you finish the noodles the broth will have cooled down a little bit

jungkook’s game plan is just to eat and enjoy himself

he doesn’t care whether he beats you or not

he just wants to see you shovelling food into your mouth like a maniac in front of his friend that he’s pretty sure you’re vERy attracted to

evil??? only a little bit

>:-)

“alright, you two ready?” taehyung keeps his fingers hovered over the start button on each timer “in 3, 2, 1… go!”

you immediately slurp up a giaNT spoonful of noodles and regret that decision almost instantly because hOT HOT HOT

it doesn’t matter

you gotta do whatever it takes to win

whATEVER it takes babY

okay jungkook was originally going to just enjoy himself but his competitive streak has officially kicked in so now he’s slurping up the noodles just as quickly as you are

side note

the broth is actually really good

and the eggs are cooked to perfection

and the noodles are also cooked to perfection

perfEctly chewy and perfectly slurpable

you definitely see yourself coming back here and it’s noT just because that taehyung boy is cute okay

speaking of taehyung

he is vEry impressed with your progress so far

most of the people he’s seen do this challenge have struggled a bit at the start but you seem to be doing just fine

jungkook’s noodles keep slipping from his chopsticks and taehyung laughs lightly when some of the broth splashes onto his face

he wonders why jungkook’s never mentioned his cute friend that he’s realising he might be slightly attracted to even though he literally only knows your name

u cute

u real cute

“you’re eating like an animAL-“

“says the one shovelling noodles into her mouth!”

“at least i-“

you and kook simultaneously bicker anD eat and taehyung snorts when you threaten to shove a spoonful of chilli powder uP his- [statement redacted]

you pause for a split second when you see jungkook literally swaLLow half an egg

good god

wat dat mouf do

swallow half a boiled egg apparently

“tiME” you smack your hand against your timer and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand because you feel yourself dribbling a little bit

let’s see

nine minutes and thirty eight seconds

not bad!! for a FIVE pound bowl of ramen

jungkook slurps up the last of his serving and whacks the timer

nine minutes and fifty two seconds

oOh

close call

jungkook drops his chopsticks into the bow and pats his chest a couple times before wincing in discomfort “the noodles are stiLL going down the hatch”

“alright, that’s ti- oh.” taehyung rounds the corner and hits the side button on his watch “you’re both done!”

“yep, we’re both done..” you smile weakly

you don’t know if you can ever eat another bowl of ramen again

you don’t know if you can look at boiled eggs the same way without imagining one sliding down jungkook’s throat

“congratulations, you two!” taehyung peeks into both of your bowls to make sure there’s nothing left “you’re both the noodle champions!” he stacks your bowls together and picks them up “i’ll be back with your prize t-shirts!!”

great.,,. you’re both nooDle champions.,,. but at what coST

o god

and taehyung just witnessed you inhale a five pound serving of ramen 

his first memory of you.,,.is seeing you shovel like five pieces of pork into your mouth while glaring at jungkook 

ahHHHH 

aT WHAT COST

“i think i’m pregnant.” you groan and lie down on your back

you sit up a little to look at kook “and i think it’s yours.”

jungkook glances back over at you “if it’s a boy, we name it ramen. if it’s a girl, we name it ramena.” he slouches back against the booth and stares into space “i have something to tell you too”

“what”

“i’m definitely pregnant and it’s definitely yours.” he rubs a hand over his bloated tummy and lets out a louD belch and you groan quietly

“you’re repulsive”

“i’m carrying your child, how dare you speak to a pregnant man like that?” jungkook sits up quickly but immediately regrets it

he lets out another belch and you whine before throwing a balled up napkin at him

god

u can smell it from here

“oh, god. the baby’s coming.”

“if you puke it all out you’re immediately disqualified-“

“i don’t caRE the bABY’S COMING-“ jungkook slides out of the booth and you can’t help but laugh at the sight of him sprinting to the washroom

you stop laughing when you feel the ramen coming up a little bit but you swallow it down because there’s no way you’re losing after that baTTle

“where’s kook?” you jump and immediately sit up  

you point to the washroom “he’s about to give birth to a ramen baby through his mouth”

“…huh” taehyung kisses his teeth “well, do you want your picture up on the wall?” he shakes the polaroid camera and your eyes widen in mild panic

heCk no you don’t want your picture up on the wall

“oh, god no. i do not want anyone knowing that i ate a five pound bowl of ramen in less than ten minutes.” you snort and shake your head

taehyung laughs lightly before pointing to himself “but i know that you ate a five pound bowl of ramen in less than ten minutes.”

“mm, that’s true.” you purse your lips before sticking your pinky out “pinky promise you won’t tell?”

taehyung grins and sets the camera down so that he can wrap his pinky around yours

he stands up a little straighter and clears his throat

“i promise,” he presses a hand to his chest, “i, kim taehyung, will not tell anyone that you, y/n y/l/n, successfully consumed a five pound bowl of ramen in less than ten minutes-“

“good-“

“iF-“

“…if?” your brows knit together in confusion

if

if whAT

“if you give me your number.”

huh

you have to admit that was kind of smooth

and unexpected

but a nice kind of unexpected

you snort and feel the apples of your cheeks growing warm 

you clear your own throat before sliding out of the booth and getting up

taehyung stands up straighter as you press your own hand to your chest “i, y/n y/l/n, will happily give you, kim taehyung my number if you don’t tell anyone that i successfully consumed a five pound bowl of ramen in less than ten minutes.”

keep in mind the two of you still have your pinkies locked together

taehyung nods firmly and lets go of your hand

“your country thanks you.” he salutes and you can’t help but giggle when his right eye drops in a wink  

you feel your heart go all warm and gushy

and it’s noT from the heartburn

:-)

okay wait

it might be a little from the heartburn  

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

drabble tag

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Master List I: Cardverse and Demon AU's

Cardverse Scenario where the white Queen is taken

Yandere Spade King America X Reader 

Yandere Russia Into the Cardverse Drabble ( A solid intro if I ever decided to write a full fanfic for this AU) 

Yandere Carverse France Headcanons 

Yandere Carverse America Headcannons 

Preview Poem about Demon Matthew (Mild but edges on Spicy)

Yandere Demon America Headcanons  

Yandere Demon Canada Headcanons 

Yandere Demon England Headcanons  

Yandere Demon Russia Headcanons 

Demon Games: England, France, and Russia  

Demon Games: Germany, Japan, Italy  

Demon Games: America  

Demon Games: Prussia 

Demon Games: Spain

Demon Games: Canada

Spicy Yandere! Demon America  

Yandere Demon America, England, Russia w/Ghost Reader  

Yandere Demon America w/Strong Escapee S/O 

Yandere Demon America with a Priestess S/O 

Yandere Demon America w/ a Yandere S/O 

Yandere Demon N.Italy 

Yandere Demon Germany w/ a Sassy S/O 

Demon America w/ S/O that won his Bloody Money Game 

Demon America w/ Jealous S/O  

Demon America w/Stupid S/O that kept his coins  

Demon America w/Stupid S/O that kept his coins pt.2 (Spicy) 

Yandere! Demon China Headcannons 

Yandere Demon Russia w/Nun S/O 

Yandere Demon America w/ S/O who has awful parents  

Yandere Demon America w/ Demon Princess  

Yandere Demon Russia and France w/ Royal S/O  

Yandere Demon America w/ Smart human 

Yandere Demon America w/ Yandere Demoness S/O that captures him  

Yandere Demon England with Empath Darling  

Yandere Demon America w/ Ancient Monster Darling 

Yandere Demon England, Russia, and Japan with Helper Ghost Darling   

Yandere Demon America w/ Angel Darling  

Birthday Drabble Demon America Club 27  

Yandere Demon America w/Dark Witch Darling 

Yandere Demon America: Family life with S/O

Yandere Demon America vs Demon Canada that love the same S/O 

Yandere Demon America & Russia w/ Supernatural Hunter Reader  

Yandere Demon America w/ Witch Darling pt.2  

Yandere Demon America x Right Hand Demon Darling  

Yandere America X Male Reader X Russia Captive  

Yandere Demon America x Dumbass reader 

Yandere Demon America claiming them for the first time after kidnapping  

Yandere Demon Russia with an unfazed human 

Yandere Demon America x Dark Witch Darling p.3  

Yandere Demon America vs Demon Russia  

Yandere Demon America with Chaos Lord p.2

Yandere Demon Germany & Russia with a Chaos lord 

(I'm sure you're tired as hell from seeing the word 'Yandere' aren't you? America vs Russia as demons 

Yandere Demon America X Doomguy reader 

Yandere Demon America with a Succubus reader 

Yandere Alpha Germany and Japan with a traumatized darling 

Yandere Demon America x Chaos Lord 

Yandere Demon America with an escapee human 

Yandere Demon Germany with chaos lord darling 

Demon America w/ Pervy Sage like S/O  

Yandere Demon America with a Heathen Goddess darling 

Yandere Demon Belarus 

Yandere demon America with a Nephilim Darling 

Yandere Demon America and Japan with an Oni darling 

Demon King America with an experimental dragon darling 

Yandere America with Platonic Yandere Demonness 

Yandere Demon Kings Lands 

Yandere Demon King America X Reader : Someone tries to assassinate you 

Yandere England and Russia with a Western Dragon Shapeshifter darling 

Yandere Demon Germany with a human S/O that won his game

Yandere Demon America with a Half Human / Half Demon Darling 

Yandere Demon King America X Reader X Demon King Russia: Right-Hand Woman p.2 

Yandere Demon King America X Reader X Demon King Russia: Right Hand Woman P.3

Canada: The Floating Maple Leaves Gameplay

Canada SFW Headcannons

Demon America with a Fem! S/O and a box of Chocolate

Children in the Demon Au

Demon King’s China and Japan’s children 

Demon King England Children 

Demon King Germany’s Children

Demon King Russia’s Kids 

Angel AU 

Yandere! Angel Russia and England falling in love with a demon darling 

Yandere! Angel America & Germany in Luv with a demon 

Yandere Angel France and Japan in love with a demon



[btsvt-adventures]

Day 04/30 - The Game Plan

A/n: Day (week) 4 of 30 day OTP challenge! This has been crossposted to AO3, so if by chance you see something like this under the u/n Soojinnie, don’t panic HAHA it’s just me from like 3 years ago or something :3 

Prompt: On A Date

Pairing: Jihoon x Seungcheol (Jicheol)

Warning(s): Nothing too bad, just a lot of heart exploding, toe curling fluff? heheh

Words:  1,545

Want more of this AU? Or want your own AU? Ask me here!

30 DAY (WEEK) OTP CHALLENGE Masterlist

“You can do this!” -silence- “Come on Choi Seungcheol you got this.” -silence- “Fuck, I can’t do this.”

Seungcheol’s been sitting in his car for the last ten minutes, freaking out about tonight’s date. It’s not just any date; it’s their sixth anniversary, and Seungcheol doesn’t want to mess anything up, not when he’s planned everything so perfectly. 

But he can’t get out of the goddamn car. 

He tries to pep talk himself again, hoping this time it’ll actually prompt him to walk up to Jihoon’s door, but jumps when his phone rings. He glances at it, fumbling to answer when he sees that it’s Jeonghan.

“Hel-”

“Get your ass out of the car already or I swear Jihoon is gonna kill you for being late.” 

Seungcheol forces a strangled laugh at Jeonghan’s annoyed tone, already feeling the panic and nervousness set in. His heart races, vision swimming for a bit,  and Seungcheol wonders if this is what a stroke feels like. 

“Okay Seungcheol, you can do this. Everything’s planned. All you need to do is pick up your boyfriend,” he tells himself, glancing out the car, eyes immediately finding the second story window, where his beloved lives.

“I can’t believe you’re talking to yourself like it’s your first date,” Jeonghan snorts, and Seungcheol hears him yelp in pain. “Ignore him, he was exactly the same for our fifth year anniversary. Good luck Cheollie!” 

“Jisoo,” he laughs, nerves already disappearing when he hears his other best friend’s soothing voice. “Tell Jeonghan he’s a fucking ass, and thank you.” He hangs up on his best friends before he gets out of his car, locking it decisively behind him.

Jihoon smirks to himself when he hears the knock on the door, but his smartass remark dies in his throat when he opens the door.

Holy fuck. 

Seungcheol doesn’t tend to dress up, (neither does Jihoon, but that’s not the point), but tonight he’s in a smart, ironed shirt, with a black blazer and dark washed jeans. Jihoon’s pretty sure his brain is 99% mush right now, and he seriously considers cancelling all their plans so Seungcheol can just come in and fuck him senseless.

“Hi Jihoonie,” he beams down at the frozen younger, kissing him lightly. “Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes, and Jihoon chokes out some semblance of “It’s okay” before he’s being whisked away for their anniversary date. 

“Where are we going? All I got from you was to dress warm,” Jihoon grumbles, looking down at his oversized sweater and dark ripped jeans. “Is this okay…?” he tugs at his sleeve, and Seungcheol gives him a once over, nodding and lacing their fingers together. 

“Jihoonie, you always look perfect,” he murmurs softly, thumb stroking Jihoon’s soft, milky skin. “And it’s a surprise,” he grins excitedly, tossing Jihoon a blindfold. “No peeking!” 

The drive isn’t particularly long, but Jihoon’s dying from curiosity, barely stopping himself from asking “are we there yet?” every two minutes.

“I hate surprises,” he mutters, fingers itching to rip off the damn blindfold. The road winds and winds (and winds some more), and Jihoon is nervous but excited at the same time. “You’re not taking me to some hill to kill me, are you?” he tries to joke, although it comes out more serious than he expected.

“Jihoonie, I’d rather drive myself off a cliff than hurt you,” Seungcheol murmurs softly, large hand enveloping Jihoon’s much smaller one. “I love you,” Seungcheol purrs, and Jihoon can’t hide the soft smile growing on his face. 

“Shut up,” he huffs, ears tipped a bright red, sitting upright when he feels the car slow to a stop. “We’re here?” he asks excitedly. Seungcheol just chuckles and gets out of the car, quickly rounding it to help his (tiny) boyfriend out. 

“Hyung, can I take this stupid thing off yet,” Jihoon grumbles, lips pouting naturally. Seungcheol’s heart nearly explodes with affection at how cute Jihoon is, deciding to finally put the younger out of his misery.

Seungcheol’s heart races as he watches Jihoon take everything in, from the fairy lights hung on the low branches of the trees, to the picnic set up all pretty for the both of them, to the stunning backdrop of Seoul’s night lights, glittering and sparkling against the dark, murky sky. 

“... Wow,” Jihoon breathes, throat tight with emotion. He glances around, feeling the cool night breeze against his flushed face. 

“Seungcheol- this… this-” he chokes, turning to his boyfriend, who’s staring at Jihoon like he hung the moon and the stars. He holds him tightly, face firmly buried into his chest, praying Seungcheol can’t feel the heat of his neck and face through the material of his sweater. 

“Thank you, I love you,” Jihoon whispers, and Seungcheol melts, strong arms wrapping around his boyfriend’s shoulders. 

Seungcheol loves that about him, that Jihoon, usually so brusque and cold, has this soft, caring, vulnerable side of him, and he loves it even more that he’s lucky enough to see it. He guides Jihoon to the picnic mat, and they settle quickly, pulling out coke and orange juice (because he’d very much like his boyfriend sober tonight, thank you very much), and offering them to Jihoon. The younger snorts, rolling his eyes as he accepts the bottle of juice, pressing it to his neck in an effort to return to a normal colour.

Seungcheol chuckles, and Jihoon swipes at him, grumbling about how his boyfriend’s so stupid to do something so grossly sweet for their anniversary, but there’s an unmistakable grin on the younger’s face that betrays him. Jihoon turns away, peeking into the picnic basket to escape Seungcheol’s knowing gaze, letting out a soft gasp  when he sees jajangmyeon and spicy ramyun in a bowl.

“You remembered,” he looks up at Seungcheol, who just rolls his eyes good-naturedly, pulling his boyfriend close.

“Of course I did babe, how could I forget such a weird combination?” Seungcheol teases, kissing the top of Jihoon’s fluffy head. “Hand me the chicken would you?” he murmurs.

Jihoon flails for a second, trying to feel out the warm takeout box he saw earlier, and hands it to Seungcheol, who mumbles his thanks, letting go of Jihoon so they can eat. Jihoon mixes his noodles leisurely, watching as his heathen of a boyfriend practically inhales the entire thing (he’s half sure Seungcheol might try to eat the box too). Jihoon chortles when his boyfriend looks up at him and grins, mouth (and somehow his cheek and nose) covered in the sticky garlic soy sauce. 

“You-uh- missed,” Jihoon snorts, motioning to Seungcheol’s...entire face.

Seungcheol just smacks his lips, and smirks at Jihoon, who grimaces and throws the pack of wipes at his boyfriend, grumbling that his boyfriend is a fucking child, and not a responsible, twenty-five year-old adult. 

Jihoon sighs, setting the now-empty bowl of noodles, and leans against Seungcheol’s broad shoulder, admiring the view (-coughs- of his boyfriend -coughs-) when suddenly he feels a drop on his head. He looks up, frowning in confusion, flinching when another drop hits his face.

And another. 

And another. 

And another.

He glares at the sky, daring it to rain on them, but it only seems to make it worse. The rain picks up, going from a light drizzle to sleets of rain before either one of them can react. Seungcheol curses, grabs Jihoon and the basket of food, and sprints to his Jeep. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry Jihoon, I totally didn’t check the weather,” Seungcheol apologizes mournfully, grabbing a towel (Jihoon doesn’t know, or want to know why it’s there) to dry his drenched boyfriend off. “I was so caught up about planning the perfect date for their anniversary, and now I’ve completely stuffed it up, and god, I still had another surpr –”

Jihoon presses his lips to Seungcheol’s, effectively cutting off his panicked rambling. “I’m not mad,” he offers quietly when they pull away. “It was too cold out there anyway,” he smiles shyly at Seungcheol, and his boyfriend melts, heart full to bursting.

“I know, but now I don’t have space to do this properly,” he sighs, digging into his jacket pocket, and Jihoon’s heart nearly stops. 

He can’t be– He wouldn’t– Oh my god he is. 

Seungcheol is so nervous he’s sure Jihoon can hear his heartbeat. He takes a shaky breath, pulling the small waterlogged box from his pocket. 

“I know this isn’t ideal, and I’m really sorry. I’d planned this all romantic, and it was gonna be perfect but the weather had to –”

“Is that a ring?” Jihoon blurts, eyes trained on the box, posture stiff and mouth dropped open in shock.

“Y-yeah, it is,” Seungcheol breathes, stomach churning as he watches Jihoon. “It’s-It’s yours, if you’ll have me,” Seungcheol whispers, opening the box to reveal a silver ring, winking at Jihoon invitingly. 

Jihoon’s silent, and Seungcheol’s heart immediately fills with dread. “You don’t have to agree, maybe it’s too early, and I don’t want to pressu–” 

“Yes, you big idiot, yes,” Jihoon laughs, hands cupping Seungcheol’s face as he peppers kisses on his boyfrie– no, his fiancé’s, face. “I love you Choi Seungcheol, and I’d love to marry you,” he breathes against the elder’s plump lips, and Seungcheol grins, practically dizzy with happiness. 

“Good.”

Please like and reblog!

If you’d like more of this AU, or your own lil thing, of if you just wanna yell at me, you can do so here ~

[spectralmagpie]

@sugar-high-viking

More college au thoughts. Troy sends Moze a spicy pic not like 100% dick pic (boi is not a complete heathen...or is he??) Maybe the horrible naughty lip bite he does. Shirt? removed! - Pants? low!

She doesn't text back and he thinks well fechk I messed that up.

Next day during his lecture hall he gets a ping. Moze the feral raccoon that she is has waited until he's in class to send him a saucy (perhaps even saucier pic than his) back.

Troy literally doesn't know what to do with himself??

*Is that the distant sound of Moze and Gaige cackling??*

[proheromidoriyashouto]

Your spicy heathen au is top tier and I love it, but I'm so sleep deprived and tired that I misread it as spicy heathers so I was expecting some sort of heathers musical au and I got so confused after reading but I'm also very satisfied. Alsndnalkf very good au btw. 👌

oh thanks! i’ve never seen the heathers tho so not sure how to take this ;/ i really like aus where shouto just fucks off after highschool to do whatever in case my dozen similar posts made that unclear asddgashfhdjfd