#JT anon

[misshoneyimhome]

Hey jt anon here just wondering if you have future plans for more writes about him

Well hello there jt anon 🤗

For now my writing plans are pretty much just my 「WIPs」 - so, he’s there but that’s about it 😉🤍

Btw, I assume you’re referring to John Tavares, since I just got a request on him, but please correct me if I’m wrong 🙃

[finiffy]

Imagine this, all the scp foundation staff had a sleepover, Iceberg is in the freezer, Gears is in the roof and Bright is probably on fire

-J.T

Sounds about on par for the course

[jtl07]

Hi JT! I’m not sure it’s possible to challenge you, but I’d love to try: Glasses, classroom, romcom!

okay finally got some time (how dare work actually be work) but also wow WOW ask an ye shall receive because goddamn this batch of prompts has succeeded in being a challenge lol

anon, i feel like i don’t actually write romcom that much so this was a fun mindpuzzle to practice. thank you for playing!!

“I just don’t get it, Lil.” Ava huffs from her perch atop the edge of their homeroom teacher’s desk, the heels of her feet kicking against it. Behind her, she hears Lilith sigh, which Ava takes as a sign for her to continue her rant. 

“She’s the kindest, coolest in judo practice but the moment she’s off the mat, it’s like she’s a completely different person.” 

Another sigh. “In what way?” 

“Like -” All four of Ava’s limbs get in on the telling “- okay, yesterday I saw her in the hall and waved but she literally said, ‘Do I know you?’” Ava groans, smacking her face with her hands as if it would get the entire experience out of her head. 

“Well, if I was Beatrice, I’d probably pretend I didn’t know you too.”

Ava swivels around, arms out wide to try to smack Lilith, who ducks, expert as she is after years being friends. She doesn’t even pause in her typing. “Lilith, I’m serious,” Ava whines, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Did I do something wrong?”

Lilith shrugs. “It might not be you. Maybe she gets temporary amnesia every time she goes onto the mat. Or maybe the mat triggers some kind of - I can’t believe I’m saying this outloud - subconscious persona that she doesn’t remember outside of practice. Or -” 

A soft cough at the doorway stops them both - with Ava nearly falling off the table when she finds the object of her angst and affection standing just inside the classroom. Because holy shit, Beatrice looks great, as always, but also: when the hell does she wear glasses???  

Beatrice glances between the two of them, must consider Lilith the safer of them as her gaze settles on her. Which, fair, Ava thinks grudgingly, considering how she can’t stop herself from gawking at Beatrice in glasses. Still, she wishes she could get Beatrice’s eyes on her like it is during judo practice, feel the soft touch of her adjustments, hear the note of approval in “good job” that always makes her feel like she could fly to the moon - 

“- okay, Ava?” 

Ava blinks, finds both Lilith and Beatrice watching her, concern written in similar lines across their faces. She shakes herself bodily. “Yeah, I’m fine. Did you need some help?” she squeaks, totally casual. 

“I just need to input those for Beatrice’s class,” Lilith answers, gesturing to the folder Ava’s currently sitting on.

“Oh, sure.” Ava doesn’t realize her mistake until she’s already leaning towards the side. The side that is the edge of the table. The side that is nothing but open air.

She flails for a half-second, hoping to negotiate with gravity, but like always - in judo, on the stairs in the rain, stepping out of the bathtub, and here - it doesn’t give in. Ava closes her eyes as she feels gravity win and thinks: Fuck. 

The ground isn’t what greets her though. There’s a clatter of something falling to the floor and a gasp she recognizes from Lilith, but what surprises Ava the most is the warmth all around her. It’s strong, familiar. 

Ava pries open eyes she hadn’t known she’d closed. Turns her head to find Beatrice, wide-eyed and so, so close. 

“Are you alright?” she asks, and Ava has to keep from losing her shit completely because she can feel Beatrice’s breath against her cheek. 

“Yep,” she squeaks, totally normal. 

She feels Beatrice shift and her feet finally touch the ground. Ava’s loath to let go, now that she knows what Beatrice’s arms feel like fully around her, now that she has Beatrice’s eyes on her fully now, looking at her like - actually, Ava’s not sure what she’s looking at her like. It’s not the wary suspicion from the hallway, but something different. Something like recognition.

Beatrice takes the glasses Lilith is holding out to her, slowly, carefully puts them on.

“Oh,” Beatrice breathes, realization and wonder spreading pink across her face, “It’s you.”

[comphy-and-cozy]

Little delayed in catching up as work (and life) went a tad bit sideways. However my goodness yeah that was a GOOD catch up.

And kind of you to oblige an ask. Would LOVE to know a little more about the first “morning after” and aftermath in the third part of a dream come true 👀

Please and thank you kindly my dear 🫶🏻🤍

the morning after - jt compher

Pairing: JT Compher x Reader (f) - A Dream Come True universe

Word Count: 1.3K

Author’s Note: Yes, this is nearly 8 months late following a JTC hiatus and then a writing funk for the majority of the fall, but I never forgot about this. We all know I will always come back to these two! Still living in that delicious fantasy of that August day...

Warnings: Mature content/sexual themes, references to sex, language, the usual banter.

series masterlist

August 2023 - The morning after

JT Compher has a way with words. Smooth and sleek, you wonder what came first: his confidence or his ability to woo with just a short sentence and a simmering smile. Somehow, he’s managed to quiet every last question and insecurity that bubbled up in you when you woke up to an empty bed, the fear of him stealing away after a one night stand vanished at his insistence of seeing you again. 

Seeing him standing in your kitchen, preparing morning-after breakfast for you following a dicking down for the ages, you were in shock. But once his lips are on yours, you forget how to think, how to breathe, how to do anything except return his kiss and do everything in your power to keep his lips on you. His hands rest on your hips, fingers digging in slightly as your mouth opens to allow his tongue in, the feeling of him against you near enough to turn your legs into pure jello. The edge of the countertop bumps against your lower back, and you realize he’s been backing you up slowly. 

Strong arms lift you onto the counter, the coolness of the surface against your bare center earning a small yelp from your lips. It’s a stark contrast to the scorching heat between your legs, and the low pulse of your molten center throbs as you press yourself into his figure, caging you between his arms. Your nipples pebble pressed against his strong, solid chest, warmth blooming steadily inside of you. You’re more than ready for him to ravage you again, right there, not caring about the half-cooked eggs on the stove.

JT, it seems, has a similar idea, his hands trailing fire up the sides of your bare thighs, slipping underneath the hem of your sweatshirt and resting on your ass before squeezing firmly. A moan slips out of your lips that he swallows hungrily before a smirk forms against your mouth. “No panties? Easy access.”

A breathless chuckle is all you can manage in reply. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to you, until you can feel him pressed against your bare center. Only a thin layer of fabric lies between you, and your body knows it. You can feel your pussy dripping arousal onto your otherwise pristine countertop. 

JT registers the smell before you do, tearing himself away from your lips and earning a wanton whine from you. The curse from his mouth alerts you to his urgency, pulling away to dash toward the toaster, which you soon register is smoking. He unplugs it, fishing two completely blackened pieces of toast from it, but not before the sharp chirp of the smoke alarm blares through your apartment. 

“Looks like my tour of Detroit is going to continue,” he says with a sheepish, apologetic smile after you’ve managed to shut the alarm off and rid your apartment of the smoke. The commotion, unfortunately, has quelled both of your libidos, though you make a mental note that you’re very interested in exploring what he might do with you lying on the kitchen counter. “Best breakfast in Detroit?”

“I know just the place.”

Back in your bedroom, both of you get dressed, fighting the urge to do the opposite and stay locked in your room all day. You can feel the heat of JT’s gaze on your ass as you step on your tiptoes to retrieve a sweatshirt from your closet. 

“That a Wings jersey?”

Your head turns and you catch sight of the red sleeve that’s drawn his attention. An eyebrow quirks up. “Whose do you think it is?”

He tugs on his pants while he ponders, doing his best to smooth out the wrinkles from lying on your bedroom floor all night. It’s a bit obvious they’re last night’s clothes, but there’s an ember of pride burning within you at the subtle messaging: He was with me last night.

“I’m going to say it’s too cliche to guess mine, right?”

“Sir, you haven’t even played a single game as a Red Wing yet,” you scoff, though you feel a glimmer of hope at the idea of maybe, just maybe, wearing his name to Little Caesars Arena someday in the future. 

“Touché,” he says with a laugh, then thinks. “Stevie Y?”

“He’s in here too,” you reply, lifting the sleeve of a different jersey. You note the way he remembered your favorite Red Wings player from the first conversation you had nearly two years ago. 

“I’m stumped.”

Taking the hanger off of the rack, you turn the jersey around to reveal the large 71 on the back. You watch JT’s eyes flash over the letters of his captain’s name, and the subsequent grin that forms on his face. “So I bet you loved me telling him I was leaving with you last night, huh?”

Heat tinges your cheeks as you return the jersey carefully to its spot. Your heartbeat quickens and you shudder at the memory alone. “Mortifying. But less so than being… overheard by him or his wife.”

JT smirks, and you’re sure he’s remembering the sounds you made last night. You allow yourself to slip briefly back into a reverie full of heated kisses, steady thrusts, and intimate, erotic bliss.

“Did you ever want to fuck him, too?”

The question is so stark and out of left field it takes you by surprise, pulling you quickly out of your daydream. With a glance at him, you notice his cheeks are flushed with a slight hint of pink—he’s playing it off as a casual, silly question, but you can sense that he’s gauging his competition. That admission, while indirect, shows the depth of his interest in you, and it makes your stomach flip. 

“Not enough to write fanfic about him.”

JT’s lips curl upward and he laughs. He doesn’t say it, but you can feel the relief settle in. He’s the one you’ve been crushing on for years, not Dylan. His pride in holding that title is trivial, but it strikes you as cute. 

“Told you I wasn’t interested in sharing.”

Breakfast is only a few blocks down the street, a little hole in the wall for some of your favorite breakfast sandwiches in the city. He offers to pay, and you’re both grateful and pleasantly surprised that conversation still flows just as easily while both of you are sober—the irony isn’t lost on you that your first time spending real, quality time with him is the morning after he gave you the best dicking down of your life. 

Before he leaves your apartment, he has you put your number in his phone. With the promise to reach out soon and one last heated makeout session against your front door, your whirlwind first date with JT Compher comes to an end.

Sitting in the silence of your now empty apartment, you wonder how much of what he said was genuine, if he’ll actually connect or just save your number as a potential 11pm booty call during the season. You’re inclined to believe the former, but your self-preservation instinct has you preparing yourself for the latter. 

You don’t have to wait long to find out. Barely a day goes by before your phone buzzes with your first text from your new contact. 

[JT:] I can’t stop thinking about you [You:] You say that to all the girls? [JT:] Just the ones who write fanfic about me

The text makes you laugh. None of it feels real; his number in your phone, his scent in your bed, the earnest and unashamed captivation he’s shown with you. Another glance in the mirror confirms the marks he left on your skin with his mouth. Your fingers brush over one of the mauvey-purple spots to make sure it’s not a figment of your imagination. 

They’re real—and so is he. It terrifies you, how much power he has over you, how easily he could crush you if he woke up tomorrow and changed his mind. But there’s also a flutter in your heart, replaying all of his simmering, lingering glances and the warmth of his presence. 

You’re hopeful. The feeling is beautiful, uplifting, sanguine, like you’re bouncing from cloud to cloud. And while you don’t know what’s coming, you’re excited to watch it unfold.

Tag list: @somuchf4rstardust @tpwkstiles @smileysvech @senditcolton @robindrake13 @laurenairay

[decaydanceredacted]

There's more and close up recent pictures of shirtless Joe courtesy of his tattoo artist 🥴

He looks so soft 🥹

[sarcasticscribbles]

I know you said NotJon! is hot because he's not Jon but I still think about your original hot Jon design every day.

Cult leader video Jon? Hot man.

Long haired levitating Jon? Hot man.

The evidence is clear.

This is literally him

[pjsk-headcanons]

(not answeep) This is on my prsk blog, but perfect pitch emu but not in like smart smart “oh thats a Gm” but in a stands awkwardly “somethings not right and I’m going to explode” way like somebody transposed the song without telling her, and so she’s just freezes up like Mafuyu just entered the room

Nene: Emu? What’s wrong? Emu, looking like she got a bucket of ice water dumped onto her: something isn’t right — 🎧 anon (this is also me projecting but i find it funny when its not me)

.

[wolfythewitch]

is there a question or comment that you often get that genuinely upsets you? or genuinely annoys you to your core?

Uhhh I wouldn't say genuinely upset, but probably annoys me yeah haha.

Comments comparing designs, like Odysseus and Jesus, etc, those get old very quickly.

Questions insistently asking if I'm a boy or girl, while amusing, also get old very quickly.

Any questions like the previous anon where it's like "why do you like this piece of media so much" well! It's a long story isn't it. Do you want a history because I Can traumadump. This one is a special case though, it mostly takes context

And any comment telling me to draw something (depends on tone) just makes me not want to draw it HAHA. I don't mind if people ask nicely, but the ones that are just a straight up demand? Rude. Ignored.

Also what Does upset me, now that I think about it, though it doesn't really happen here, mostly on TikTok and YouTube, is when people say I'm race swapping characters?? Or changing their race? I guess? It's just weird.

[emoticonnie]

i think to myself, “i want a friend to be insane about this with,“ and then never try. It looks absolutely pathetic

[misshoneyimhome]

Yes John Tavares also that totally fine just wondering for the future

We can def do more on him in the future bb 😊 I actually think I’ve got a few ideas, but feel free to remind me if I forget to write about him 🙏🏼

[finiffy]

lightbulb

-J.T

Oh Lightbulb! Yeah like those things that people use to light up a room! I know what that is

[jtl07]

Shenangians prompt: Ava and Beatrice at Pride (Also, if you want, you can change it up a bit regarding Avas and Beatrice canon sexuality/gender identity)

anon i got stuck on doing a sort of 5x - well, 4 in this case - structure and focused a bit more on bea but there's avatrice i swear! thanks for playing <3

(1)

"Look away," her father says before Beatrice can understand what she's looking away from. She obeys because that's what she's been taught; sneaks a glance when she can because she's been taught that too.

It's the colors that capture her attention first: rainbows and feathers and sequins, flags of all sorts. Joy and defiance and -

"Disgusting," her mother all but spits as their call pulls away from what her parents have deemed an abhorrent display of sin. The last thing Beatrice sees is a poster that says, 'Love is love.'

Wonders about living in a world where those words are true.

(2)

Beatrice doesn't remember the significance of the day until she's outside running errands and spots the numerous rainbow flags and stickers. The convent is far from the city center but close enough to be amongst its people and to witness the lives they lead. Beatrice can't help but look longingly at the bracelets and necklaces as she pays at the register. But then she remembers her parents; remembers her vows.

She takes the bags of supplies and keeps her head down; keeps to herself and to her duty. Turns down a side street so she can get back just a little bit faster.

Twin gasps draws Beatrice up short. She nearly drops the bags to grab at one of the knives hidden at her side; stops when she finds only two teenagers, a rainbow flag wrapped around them. She forces her body to relax. No threat here.

But then she notices: the teens have not relaxed. In fact, they seem even more on guard, wide eyes and tense, clenched jaws and holding breath - and oh, Beatrice realizes; feels her heart break. It's because of her.

She pulls what she hopes passes for a smile over her trembling lips. "Happy Pride," she manages to murmur through the thickness in her throat.

Puts her head down; puts her heart back into its chest. Hides the key.

(3)

"Oh c'mon, Bea, you can't tell me you're not curious!"

Beatrice looks away - not because it's what she's been taught but because it's the only way she can think, what with Ava bouncing all around her, waving the rainbow flyers in her hands like wings. Finds herself thinking of how Ava could fly away from here if she wanted, how she could live the fantastic life she's always dreamed; thinks of how she hasn't.

"It's not that," Beatrice sighs. Hates being the bearer of bad news, especially to the bearer of so much joy. "A crowd of that size, it's just - it's the opposite of what we've been sent here to do."

"But that's just it: how can anyone find us when there's gonna hundreds of people?" Beatrice winces at the thought of hundreds but Ava continues, "Besides, who'd expect us to be there in the first place?"

Beatrice sighs. She more than understands: Ava's logic, Ava's wants. The disappointment of having them pushed aside. But the fate of the world is on their shoulders; Ava's life is in her hands. She cannot lose, she will not fail.

When Beatrice finally looks back towards Ava, it's as if she already knows. Beatrice watches her soften, feels her hand in hers. "It's alright," Ava murmurs. And Beatrice can't help but wonder at how their roles have somehow reversed at this moment, as if Ava knows there's something more.

"Zurich's way too far anyway," Ava says as she swings their hands idly. Brightens suddenly: "Oh! Maybe we could do something at the bar! Hans bought that karaoke machine - if it comes in time, maybe we can do a karaoke night!"

Beatrice sighs, then laughs - because what else is she meant to do, faced with Ava's unfailing optimism, her determined joy? What else but live the life they can, here; now.

Beatrice squeezes the hand in hers, and thinks: thank you, for letting me live in a world where I can at least do this.

(4)

When Ava returns and the war is won, they finally go to a proper Pride. And it's - it's everything Beatrice could have imagined and more.

A lot more. So much so that they've had to take breaks every now and then, finding a cafe or a shaded bench to sit down in and come down from the high, from the sun, to pick out the confetti from each other's hair.

"Maybe next year we could be in the parade," Ava says as they sip lemonade and take turns with the obnoxiously large hand fan Ava had squealed over at one of the many booths. The tote bags they both carry are already full of flyers and rubber ducks and necklaces and more. And yet Beatrice has never felt so light, so seen, so full.

"Like with the gym?" Beatrice asks, thinking of how they'd seen a float filled with queer bodybuilders, complete with balloon weights and barbells. She's almost certain her coworkers would be happy to participate.

"Yeah! Or we could like, just volunteer to help out. You could have a clipboard again," Ava grins.

Beatrice rolls her eyes but grins in return. Presses a kiss to Ava's cheek - careful to avoid the rainbow facepaint - and rests their heads together. "Sure," Beatrice says, glad to give in, now. Glad that the only thing she has to weigh is joy. She sighs and closes her eyes. Smiles.

"You two look so cute!"

She opens her eyes at the unfamiliar voice, finds a person who looks like a beautiful butterfly passing by, alight and in love with their love. "Happy Pride," they call out and Ava giggles and waves back.

"Happy Pride," they reply, because they are: happy and proud of the love they've built.

[dinoswordsb]

Ok peace for a few days everyone buh bye!

[decaydanceredacted]

https://www.tumblr.com/decaydanceredacted/771109481524461568/im-such-a-sucker-for-polyfob-both-prehiatus-and?source=share//

Ohhhh my god oh my god Patrick at his chubbiest, all pink and round and delicious. Joe's long hair and care-free rocker look. Andy's small waist and tight ass... Patrick's belly bouncing with every thrust and his ass getting all red and hot from how hard Joe is pounding into him.

His thick cock leaking against his underbelly, drooling out pre and throbbing painfully. He's whimpering and whining when a rusty red bush and hard cock is in front of him, Andy's hand guiding Patrick by his hair to take his cock in his mouth.

Patrick's got tears at this point, sobbing around Andy's dick from the stimulation.... Only able to look up at him with hazy, teary eyes.

and PETE. PETE. HES TIED UP IN THE CORNER IN PRETTY RED ROPE. his cock is hard and hurts and is locked up in a cage. He gets joes sloppy seconds :3.

I may make this a fic... Guh

-🙀

.

[quackity1999]

Would you rather continue to be blinded in the spotlight or go back to the dark you tried so hard to get away from?

-🎇..????

(Ooc: Hi I apologize I need to bully Q /j have a good day)

i don't fucking know. it's— i can't help myself. sometimes a spotlight feels like it'll wash out all the imperfections. maybe that's what i'm banking on.

[screampied]

every time you post / answer smth ab toji, his giant voluptuous tiddies pop up on my tl and jumpscare me but atp i’m not complaining 🫂🫂 i don’t mind it AT ALL

LMAO im sorry 🙂‍↕️ they’re just so big like…this entire episode was nuts