#but i think yall will get jt

[fobnsfwdoodles]

Sometimes y'all's requests are so big brain you've got me QUAKING. Absolutely possessed by the request that just popped in.

[ssteeltwigzz]

See a viscera playlist: Yahoo! Songs about tearing apart!

[Open the playlist. Underwhelming pop music about giving away your body in the name of love. Close playlist.]

[ancient-reverie]

I think it's really funny how people choose to separate "murderers" into a separate category of personhood, as if you have to have a specific gene or brain chemistry to kill someone. As if your Aunt Gemma isn't just as capable of killing as anyone else.

It's just a decision you make. You don't have to "snap" like sorry to make you paranoid like me, but yeah even you are fully capable of intentionally or unintentionally killing someone for any reason at any moment.

[sacrificialmutt]

oh!

[muwah-mumoo]

Not a bad idea…

*****************************************************************

Ryōmen Sukuna x f!reader

18+ MDNI

warning - brat!sukuna, mean!reader, humiliation, degradation, brat breaking, edging, blowjob(m! and f! receive ;), msub-slight mdom-heavy msub, rimming, fingering(m!receiving), sucking dildo, pegging, fem pronouns might have been used!

< ( this is was the winner for the poll for here yah go~ ) >

a/n : WELL THIS WAS SMTH. jt took me a bit to write but finally done LOL i got it done in three sitting so YIPEE and im pretty proud of it. sukuna isn’t like canonical bc… lazy… and also MEHH but this was pretty nice to think about and share w yall😽 also! next fanfic will be: subby!laois ;3 but anyways enjoy my sluttiesss B) also not prof read😺 sorry..!

wrd count : 3k.. (woah)

<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*<*

the calming sound of silence filled my ears, laying down on the couch as i breathed in the scent of the house.

Sukuna had gone out for a bit so it was just me, and when i’m alone with my thoughts it’s never a good thing. rushing thoughts of sukuna rushing my mind as i began to imagine different scenarios with him.

and for some random reason, there was nothing i wanted to see more then such a great man like the king of curses to be bent over your knee whining for more.

i chuckled to myself as i began to think about it more, what noises would he make? his faces.. and before i knew it i was waiting for sukuna to get home, patiently.

after a couple hours he finally arrived, “i’m home” he called as he opened the door. i smiled and walked to him, “hey kuna! i’ve missed you” i said as i kissed his cheek as i creased his face.

he took noticed the change, you seemed to be more needy and happy then normal. he removed the thought from

his head and continued to smile at you, “really? how come” he asked as his eyebrow cocked upwards.

“well.. i’ve just been thinking..” i said in a hushed tone, making sukuna become a little upset, ‘why won’t she just spit it out’ he thought to himself. “just spit it out” he said, making me become more nervous.

“W-well i was thinking about us and i’ve been wanting to try something new…you know” i said as my cheek got a little pink, look omg away shyly. making sukuna chuckle to himself as he nodded listening to you speak, clearly amused by the obvious embarrassment.

“And i wanted to see if you’d let me take the more dominant role during sex.. just to try it out.. i’ve just been into it and never had to courage to ask someone” i asked as he gave got red. leaving sukuna with a blank expression, prossesing what you just told him.

“You wish to have be me kneel before you?” he laughed out, as i shamelessly nodded looking away. he smiled and laughed, “i’ll think about it” he said as he left to the shared room, leaving you in the living room embarrassed.

he began to think to himself as he laid himself down on the bed, why would you ever think it would be attractive to… that. his mimf rushing of thoughts, thinking of your hand roaming his body as he lost his mind with your simple touch. how your kiss on his neck would feel so good. calling him, good body as he looked down at you as you licked strips down his hole.

his cock twitching in his pants slightly as he was turning himself to mush with such lewd thoughts. he sighed to himself as he began to consider to let you take control oh him, for one night.

i mean if you wanted it so badly why couldn’t he let you since your always such a sweet thing with him.

“Y/n” he called from the room, making the hair in your arms rise. i get up and walk to the room, opening the door slowly as i walked in and looked at him, “yeah?” i asked, looking at him. noticing the way his cock began to twitch slightly under your gaze, making you gain a little more confidence.

“have you been thinking about it kuna~?” i laughed as i smiled softly at him. making his face crunch up, yet his cheek couldn’t help but light up, “of cours that’s what i said id do.” he huffed out, frustratedly. i walk closer to him and cup his face, “no need to be so frustrated~” i chucked.

he grunted, making you giggled, “well what have you through about?” you asked making his face become red. “i thought about it and i don’t see any harm in letting you take over.. it’s once.” he said as he looked away clearly beginning to get embarrassed.

i crawl in the bed and kiss his forehead, “yeah you want me to make you feel good ?” i asked as i looked at him with loving eyes, watching his body twitching under your touch. making him glare at you, earning a giggle from my lips, “what’s wrong? we can stop if your not comfortable” i said as i backed up and sat up, causing him to grunt and grab it our hand. “No. don’t stop… your just make it even more embarrassing.” he huffed out as he put his hands in his face, an attempt to hide it.

i laughed, “you think this is embarrassing? i’m not even close to being done with you. imagine how embarrassed i must feel when you fuck me, now that’ll be you~” i whispered into his ear, making his cock leak pre. “now why don’t you be a nice slut for me and undress yourself, hm?” i asked as i cocked my head to the side watching him.

he clentched his teeth, yet following the order and stripping off his clothes and underwear. putting himself on display for you, spreading his legs as he sat looking at you with a red face.

i smiled, “your so good aren’t you? you want this bad don’t you?” i asked him as i crawled closer to him, placing a hand on his chest and touching his shoulders and arms, making him wince. i took notice of his small reactions to the touches, smiling to myself.

“What convinced you to do this kuna?” i asked kissing his shoulder and watching his reactions, his face hot and sweaty from the touches, making his mind turn into mush. “I-i thought about how stupid it would be to let a mere human be beneath me.” he said harshly, then looking away “but your not just any mere human. so i don’t see the harm in doing something like this with you, since you have let me do this to you before~” i laughed then being cut off from you licking his nipple.

“why don’t you focus on now, isn’t that more interesting?” i asked him as i looked up at him still playing with his nipples. He bit his lip and his toes curled, how could such a small thing make his mind go so blank?! i kissed his nipples and then moved down his body, hovering above his aching red cock. i look down at it, peer oozing out from

your glare earning a small switch from his cock. “Don’t stare. do something atleast” i blurted out, already clearly irritated.

“Kuna i need you to be patient. if your good and listen to me ill be nice but if you disobey me i will punish you.” i said as he glared up at him, making him grunt. “what could you possible do to someone as powerful as me-“ he said only to be cut off by your mouth sucking his tip harshly, making him moan out. i stopped and looked at him, “do

not thrust into my mouth, and you can’t cum without permission.” i said as i looked at him and he nodded, “uh huh sure, just get on with it” he said as he looked down at his aching cock, admiring the way your eyes glare up at him to make sure he’s behaving.

i wrap my lips spring his tip and swirl my tongue, then taking him in and bobbin gym head up and down making him moaning, watching you “so so pretty when you suck my c-cock so well” he groaned out, placing his hand on the back of our head.

as i took him down my throat one last time, he thrusted into my mouth and gripped my hair. i grab onto his knees and look up at him, and he looked down at you with a grin as he moaned out, “Fuck .. just like that.. yeah yeah i’m going to cum~” he said as he thrusted faster and gripper your hair tighter.

tears began to form in my eyes as he cock hit the back of my throat so harshly. i dug my nails into his knees, a warning to stop but he continued. ‘i don’t care about whatever dumb punishment you had for me’ he thought as his jaw hung open as his seed filled your throat.

with a loud grunt he came down your thrust and released your hair. i take his cock out of my throat and swallow his seed and cough. “sukuna.” i said glaring at him, “you know i hate that.” i said as i stood up and looked down at him.

sukuna sighed, “alright im sorry, got too carried away.. you just felt too good~” he smirked and i continued to glare at him. “lay down and hold your legs up” i said in a serious tone. making him stare at you, “serious-“ i cut him off with me, “you heard me bitch” i said making his eye twitch. although the hated the.. uncomfortable position.. he was interested to see how’d you punish him.

as he got lost in his thoughts, he felt a wet, warm tongue lick his hole, making his eyes widen at the sensation and look at you only to see your head lowered and your hands holding his thighs. he spread his arms out and gripped the sheet as i entered my tongue into his tight hole, earning small whines from him.

i look up at him, a beautiful scene before my eyes, sukuna laying in his back as he held his legs up, his stomach muscles flexing with the pleasure with his head thrown back. his adam’s apple moving as he gulped. i took my tongue out and inserted a finger into him.

his head shot back up as he looked at you, his eyes watering and foggy with lust. i curled my finger as it discovered his insides making his head hang back down. his mouth hung open, whines and moans rolling out his mouth as he rolled his eyes back as you inserted a second finger.

i laughed and smack his thigh playfully, making him moms out. “you liked that didn’t you?” i smiled as i then rubbed his ass making his nod shamelessly.

i took my finger out making him grunt, “N-no don’t sto-“ he sod only to be cut off by my fingers entering his mouth, playing with his tongue and sukuna drunk of the pleasure couldn’t help but let your fingers play with him.

“Lay down and count for me, alright~” i said as i rubbed his ass, giving it a sweet kiss. “don’t even thin- AH-!” he yelped out due to my hand smacking his ass.

“One..” he said lowly.

my hand raised and smacked him harder.

“Ah FUCK! T-two..” he whimpered

i giggled while rubbed the red mark that began to appear, then spanking him again.

“T-THrEE..!” he said, some pre oozing out his tip.

my hand raising again, smacking him, “FOur!.. fIve~!… siX… sevENN.. a-ah fu-Eight! Eight… mhmm NinE!… T-ten..~” he whined out, making me rub his ass and kiss his leaking cock, “good job~”

as he laid on the bed, in a haze from the slinging from

his ass. i got up and before he knew it i was standing behind him with a 8in strap attached by a harness to my hips. “Kunaa~~” i said as i pressed the cold tip onto his hole making him breath out heavily.

“W-what is that..” he asked as he looked over his shoulder, making me giggle. “it’s one of my dildo~ i choose this one specifically for you since your such a slut im sure you can take this cock hm?” i raised an eyebrow as i slapped the tip on his hole.

“O-Of course i can… I am the king of curse-… ah- fuck.. yes keep in doing that” he said as he arched his back the dildo slamming into his prostate making his tongue roll out. “yeah? you like that you slut?” i said as i grabbed his hands and held with with a hand behind his back, with my other hand grabbing a fistfull of his hair as i slammed my hips into his, drilling into his hole so nicely as he moaned out.

i laughed, “look at how slutty you became? all with a dildo in your ass?” i said as i whispered into his ear, i lift his head from his hair and force him to look at me. his face is red and hot, his mouth hanging out as pornagaphic moans left his lips. eyes rolled back as the toy hit all his sweet spots, “y-you keep.. ah fuck.. filling me up so.. s-so well” he mumbled out, becoming high off the pleasure.

i smiled and looked at him as he looked into my eyes blankly, his mind is to foggy, thoughts melting away as you stare down at him. head full of how beautiful you look with that confident look in you eye looking down into his eyes, making his body feel good.

i leaned in and kissed his lips and he moaned around my lips, i began to thrust harsher into him making him part the kiss and moan out, “y-yes! please please! oh lord im going to cum keep going” he whined out as he looked at you, then groaning and whining. “What? why’d you do that! keep making me feel good” he tried to threaten only for me to stare back to him as i laughed.

“remember you deserve to get punished. so i don’t want to be too mean but im edging you once and then your going to cum the dildo to show me how bad you want to cum” i said as i stared at him, smirking as i watched his eyes roll.

he then got up and kneeled in between my legs, “fine then~ im not shy” he huffed out as he then looked at the thick 8in dildo staring back at him. he gulped and then took the tip into his mouth, looking up at you almost as if he was looking to see if you were enjoying the view.

“you can take it deeper, kuna~” i said as i put my head on the back of his head and lowered his head slowly making him gag, but he kept going to make sure that you didn’t think he was less then. “there you go good boy” i smiled then bobbing his head on the dildo, “look at how pretty you look with your lips around my cock” he mocked sukuna as he told you early. then thrusting into his throat, making his eyes open wide, “you can take it” i said as i thrusted my hips in and out of his mouth.

he closed one eye and kept the other open as tears began to form. “yeahh there you go pretty boy. look at you doing do well hm?” i said as he now slowly began to bob his head on the dildo, his mind so melt now. all he wanted was his dildo to make his mind tune to mush, it felt so good to have you take such good care of him.

“here why don’t you sit in my lap, and ride my cock until you make yosield cum, yeah? show me how bad you need it slut” i said as i grabbed his hips as he sat down onto my lap, slightly embarrassed but at this pint not caring anymore.

he’s gone so far at this point he didn’t even care anymore, all he wants to be able to feel and hear you making him feel good. he just needed you to be inside of him stretching his insides out as he moaned out as your dildo hit his sweet spots.

“you can do it. show me how bad you need to cum” i said as i kissed his shoulder, helping him lining his hole with the tip of the dildo, sukuna sinking down on it starter quickly withh a sigh, “so full” he said as he sat there getting used to the feeling of being so full again.

then slowly he began to lift his hips up and down, trying to find a rythym that was comfortable for him. after some slow thrusts he found a pattern and ride your cock rather fast, “a-ahh~~ yess fill me up” he said as he rolled his tongue out. i thrusted up into him as well, out hips making loud claps as his hole let out lewd, gushing sounds from being stuffed to the brim.

with all this sukuna felt his high intensising, indicating that he was close, his thoughts clouded his mind ‘need permission..’ he thought. he opened his lips to beg to cum only to have moans leave his lips, “Please..! please i’m so close.. i’ve been good! please.~~” he begged as he continued to slam down into your hips, making you smile and nod.

he continued to ride te dildo, his pace becoming faster and sloppier but the second. then with your hand grasping his aching cock, he couldn’t help but cum all over your stomach and chest.

he rode his orgasm down, then removing the dildo and plopping onto you making you, huff out from the huge man on top you, only for a thank you to be heard from his lips.

i look at him and he avoids eye contact, “thank you.. for that..it wasn’t as bad as i thought and maybe we can try to again” he said his face red from the strong orgasm. making me laugh as the pet his head, running my hands though his hair, “really?! i’m glad your enjoyed yourself” i smiled as i kissed his forehead and held his hand with giggles leaving my lips.

“mhm yeah thanks..” he said as he cradled you and held you as you both ended up falling asleep in each others grasps.

>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*

welp it’s 2am… i’m.. tired and i didn’t proof read sorry if it’s sloppy -_-

[qraceiuv]

open arms. jude bellingham.

summary — jude bellingham x arnold!reader | fans notice you've joined your brother trent and his friends on vacation, and can't help but suspect a relationship between you and jude

note — barely looked over this, its honestly horrible. but honestly might even do a pt 2 for fun

warnings — nothing i can think of fs

_________________________________________

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: vacay captures🌴☀️🩵

—

username: MY QUEEN HAS POSTED

username: 6th slide is me

username: JUDE? I SEE JUDE

— username: me every second of the day

username: omg she joined trent and them w her friend thats cutee😭

username: the jude pic helloooo

username: idk why but her posting a pic w just jude in her post calls out to me

— username: it is not as deep as u think it is

username: NOT YALL SAYING SHES W JUDE GOODBYEEE yall funny

trentarnold66: the angle on me is horrible

— y/nsusername: maybe dont take up all the space where i was laying!🥰

— trentarnold66: YOU GOT UP.

yourfriend: 6 is a call for help btw!

username: the sibling banter in the comments is real

dominikszoboszlai: did your phone fall in

— y/nsusername: for the last time, no😒

— masonmount: it did

— y/nsusername: WHY R U EVEN HERE?

judebellingham: 🩵🩵🩵

— username: is that all u got

— username: lowk random

— username: yes king, give us nothing!

username: OKAYYY HIM COMMENTINGGG

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: nothing better than golden hour on the sand with my favorite person ☀️💛

—

username: face card hello

username: baby

username: yes girl, put that caption and dont show us who!!! how cute

username: and who is that maam??

username: jude

— username: now why would she be talking about her brother's best mate

username: yall its probs y/f/n or maybe trent obviously

username: girlie saw the jude allegations and said let me stir it up

trentarnold66: thats funny, cause your favorite person (me) has been at the hotel all night!

— y/nsusername: you think youre funny

— trentarnold66: yeah

yourfriend: my invite is?? where??

— y/nsusername: u always lose things

username: THEY CONFIRMED IT WASNT THEM SO WHO IS IT??

username: not trent, not y/f/n... call me delusional but...

username: jude needs to comment hello

judebellingham

judebellingham: ☀️

—

username: this mf.

username: WHO WHOOOO

username: THOSE ARE LITERALLY Y/N'S NAILS

username: Y/N JUST POSTED THOSE NEW NAILS ON HER STORY GOODBTEEE

username: HER FAV EMOJI THAT SHE USES 24 FUCKING 7

username: now ik dang well

username: when i was RIGHT?!

username: GUYS GUYS GUYS

trentarnold66: sad day

— username: OHMYGOD

username: no this is so unexpected

y/nsusername: ☀️😊

— username: THEY HAVE TO DTOP

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: challenge: find jude in every pic (except one) GO!! 😘 (since you all are so good at that😒) ((jk i love u and this is all hilarious!))

—

username: GET OUT

username: the caption shes so sweet😭

username: cutie pie

username: MY FAVES WTF?!

username: im gagging im

username: im flabbergasted BAD.

username: found him hahahaha (im ending jt)

username: TRENT WYA??

username: living the fanfic life rn tf

username: I CALLED IT

— username: RIGHT LIKE U GUYS CAN SUCK IT

judebellingham: im in none of these photos??

— y/nsusername: oh right! totally forgot about my brothers best friend in the photo dump!🤣

— username: THERES NO WAY😭

— trentarnold66: alright.

username: THEYRE SO MEANNN.

_________________________________________

[lovebvni]

holaaa!! (dr rant + just an appreciation post)

(TW SLIGHT HINT TO GROOMING)

soo i’m shifting soon and i decided that im going to make my first album when i get there (LIKE START JT, DUDE. START IT. IM SO EXCITED) there’s going to b an ep i’m going to finalize when i get there and it will be released on the 26th of the month i get there (as it is kinda a diss on a MAN who was 26 when we dated… i was a minor still.)

i’m also gonna make a family tree because i’m really bored (and i also kinda js wanna see all my siblings yk? im gonna draw them all soon bc like AUGH AJAJDKDJ I MISS THEM!!!)

omgz i’m so excited dude!!

(appreciation below!!)

also i saw billie eilish in my dream last night. one of the funniest and sweetest people i know 😭 SHARK WAS ALSO IN THAT DREAM HES SO SWEET ‼️‼️ god i wish i could hug them today, just right now. yall don’t understand how much billie and finneas have been through together, and im so proud of how far they made it. i love you both, and although you won’t see this post in this reality, i know you will when we r together :DDD u guys make me so happy, so inspired, and just a better person overall. also huge thank you to billie in helping me with directing my music videos and being featured in one of my favorite songs — ripple effect. thank you finneas for just 😭 for keeping her alive, giving her a passion, and being so protective and supportive of her.

i’m so excited to b friends w both of them n js talk to them daily — it’s so fun.

i’m also super duper excited to meet one of my closest friends — nile — in person finally!!!! it’s been like 3 years of shifting together, and i know she’s excited too. i know she’s reading this, btw so i love u sm nile and thank u for being such a great and perfect friend throughout this whole journey. i truly don’t think i would still be kicking without you. i owe you the world, and i know you’re going to be blessed with many MANY things in the coming months, and the years following will be some of your best, but that’s only a taste of what is truly to come.

i’m so proud of you, and i’m also so round of everyone that has been clinging onto shifting even though it hurts. i’m always here for you. i love you all so so much. i want the best for you, and i know you’re going to get it. i’m always here to help in ANY way i can. ask me anything, i promise you i will answer with the wisdom God and the universe has given me!!

i cannot express my gratitude to my father, loki, enough. i don’t know how to even put it into words. he’s been there at my hardest, he’s been there at my best. i don’t think i would actually even be this far without him either. he’s one of the silliest and sweetest people ive ever met. i can’t believe he’s my FATHER you guys!! ITS SO COOL AUGHH

i also have so many people here i need to thank, there’s more that i can think of right now but just know i love and appreciate every one of you guys.

staring with @smellofemale!! you were such a sign when i met you. i don’t think i’ve met a christian shifter — you’re the only one i still talk to if i have! im just so so sooo blessed to have met you. i don’t know what to say, dude! i love you so much. you’re so sweet, so kind, and so inspiring. i love you!

@eneablack although you’re one of my newest friends, you’re another really really inspirational one. you’re so open about your struggles with shifting, even though you’ve had success time and time again. it shows me and many others how shifting sometimes is a hard thing to get used too, even with successes under your belt!

@daisys-reality! if you don’t know them, FOLLOW IMMEDIATELY PLEASE OMGGJAJSN she gives some of the best and most accurate readings i could ever ask for. also her drs (specifically her mermaid one) have inspired me so much!!

@kanachaka UR AO COOL BRO I JS LOVE SEEING UR POSTS AJSJDKDJD

@kazylynn i love u sm!! u rlly show me i can be an inspiration to others, and that’s something i’ve hoped for all my life. i want to be a good, helpful person — and i love you for showing me i can be.

@babybearthepsychic a few months ago you gave me a free reading that was just so accurate and so real. i don’t know if i would still be on this spiritual journey without it, because i was at one of my hardest points then. i cannot believe how just truly accurate and kind you are. i love you so much, you’re doing amazing. i wish i could give you the biggest hug, and i could donate like a million dollars to u rn but i literally don’t have a job 😭

@zipperrants i don’t think i rlly need to explain this… dude i thought u we’re so cool even when u we’re js interacting with @maddies-chronicles and i rlly wanted to interact w u so bad but i was so so scared bro!! and thank u hale for giving me the opportunity to meet them!!

@accidentalshifter YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW MANY PEOPLE U REPRESENT IN THIS RESLITY — YOURE ONE OF THE FIRSR ADULT SHIFTERS I SAW ON HERR AND IM SO SO SO SO SOOO FUCKING HQPPY YOURE SO OPEN ABOUT IT! you’re just so free and it’s beautiful. i love you so much

and there are so many more but i just.. im gonna cry i love you all tooo much.. please know u all mean so much to me and i can’t wait to tell u so many stories when i get back, and help u guys shift. i am working so hard to post more, and i pray this post can help me become more active.

so so so much love, to everyone in this community, you’re so wonderful. may the gods bless you.

so much love, peace and joy

the abyss

[mommahughes19-23]

BBC - B.B

@corrrina : what the location says, also isn't my man just the BESTEST doggy dad

tagged : @bboeser

location : BEAUTIFUL BRITISH COLUMBIA

_quinnhughes : you kinda look like coolie 👁️

↪ corrrina : thats A BIT RUDE ESPECIALLY because you resemble the food critic from ratatouille .... but hes also my son so ill take it

bboeser : youre beautiful, I love you so much!💖💖💖

zadorov_16 : AHHHHHHH my favorite puppy parents

eliaspettersson : I miss milo and coolie

↪ corrrina : well they dont miss you ....

↪ eliaspettersson : yes they do... they told me

↪ corrrina : are you sure youre not just hearing things petey

kuzya_096 : so this is what you Americans do for fun, roast yourself like a turkey?🦃

↪ corrrina : is tanning a foreign concept !?!?!?

↪ kuzya_096 : no I know what it is it just sounds boring

tdemko30 : even though she didn't go I would like to say I DONT appreciate lex getting invited without me

dakotajoshua8 : its the clothespins for nails for me....

↪ corrrina : THATS UN-ASSEP-TA-BLE take it back

ilyamikheeve66 : my hero that is Brock Boeser

arturssilovs1 : still think you should train the puppies as goalies

↪ corrrina : unfortunately human child or not Brock would not have that....

↪ bboeser : NOT HAPPENING PAL

lindholmelias : awww the doggies are so cute!

j.tmiller9 : LOOK AT MILO SMILING OMG, only positive contributions Brock has made to the team would be the dogs and C...

↪ corrrina : awww thank you jt , youre not too bad yourself

colemcward : those are my parents and siblings fr

↪ corrrina : uhm . not for real

_tylermyers_ : yall are too cute

connor.garland8 : this makes me giggle for some reason

soucy71 : 🤓

katepettersen_ : Stunning 💖

elblue6 : quinn better be treating you right !!

colecaufield : 🍾🍾🍾🍾

icole28 : ugh

nilshoglander : i love this for you tbh 💖💖

jackhughes : loser

lhughes_06 : 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦

a.n :

enjoy

tagged : @skylershines @quinnylouhughesx43 @noahkahansorangejuice

[thegoober010]

BOO!! Did i scare you :3

I LOVEDDD THE LAST ONESHOT JT WAS SO CUTE IM GOING CRAZY GOING FERAL

ANYWHOOO i hope your day has gone well!!! Make sure youve eaten and youve drank water!!! Ill know if you havent 👁️👁️ /j

BUT I HAVE A REQUEST. As always. Whos surprised. *theres no sound but a few crickets chirping and someone yelling “GET OFF THE STAGE”*

But basically its Shane x reader who is his secret admirer, like he’s been getting letters from them and he doesnt know who its from. And reader is usually kinda sarcastic towards him so he doesnt think its them UNTIL he sees them writing something down like a grocery list or something and recognizes the handwriting immediately.

It can be a oneshot OR headcanons, I don’t mind :)

SOSOSO SORRY IF THIS IS TO SPECIFIC. I just have. So many thoughts. THANK YOU IN ADVANCE!!!

-🐾

OH MY- I FORGOT ABOUT THIS BLOG WHAT THE SCALLOP

IM SORRY SM YALL IM FINALLY BACK THO FOR A BIT MWEHEHEHEH

ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR MY ABSENCE IMA DO SOME HEADCANONS CUZ LIKE IM RLLY BUSY RN AND NEED TO FINISH HOMEWORK BUT IMA FINISH THIS FIRST!! GRAAAA ITS GONNA BE PRETTY SHORT THO SORRY BOOKIE :<!!!

gender neutral reader as usual <3!!

TW/CW -> none! Just some swearing but- wtv!

"All my emotions feel like explosions when you are around"

Honestly he always enjoyed your company, of course at first he was rather grouchy (and an asshole) whenever you were near him. Always giving you a scowl or rolling his eyes when he saw you getting near him, but he slowly started to get used to your company. What!? It's not like he enjoyed your company! Of course not! What a foolish though. (sarcasm)

He got more used to your company, allowing you to be seen more often near him but he was still not used to the gifts you'd give him. He understood it was so he could be more comfortable around you and be more friendly but he wasn't really used to getting gifts. But he didn't really think anything of it

After a while of you two hanging out more often, you both were always seen together, so much to the point people asked if you were dating which of course you both said no, but you both didn't seem uncomfortable with the idea whenever asked... Anyways.. Shane always came over to your farm where you'd always give him a nice meal and a very small amount of beer (each time he came over you'd reduce the amount of beer given and slowly start getting him to drink more water to try and help with his addiction, you'd also regularly listen to him through these meals about any of his problems and in turn he'd listen back) and you two would just chill, watch TV, play some games or go out and fool around!

After a good 4 months though he started to get strange notes... he didn't bother reading them at first until he noticed a word that quickly grabbed his attention, 'love'. He was honestly indifferent towards the letters, he didn't really care for them until he started to get them more and more often. It was rather confusing as he started getting all these letters all of a sudden, and not just any letters but love letters! It was a bit overwhelming to be honest, he never knew anyone would feel such a way towards him, not like he cared much..at first, after a while though he started to wonder who liked him and he even wondered if.. maybe he started to grow attracted to the person just through these letters!

Once you were with him he told you about the letters and even showed them to you, your face turned red and you immediately left him all confused as you wouldn't answer any of his questions on why you were as red as a damn tomato. He never really got his answer for a while. Due to your sarcastic nature you kept on teasing him about the notes and whenever he asked you questions like, "Who do you think it is?" or things of that sort you'd always roll your eyes and just go "oh I wonder who!" in a monotone voice, leaving him a bit confused.

After a while the letters started to die down, but that doesn't mean they got any less romantic, no, in fact I'd say they had even more romance talk than ever! They started to allude to the fact that the anonymous sender of these messages will confess soon, often reading "P.S lots of love, and I promise I'll see you soon <3!" or things to that nature

To be honest he actually started to look forward to these notes, although he found them a bit creepy at first or boring he started to get rather happy? The thought of someone liking him romantically so much to the point they send him love letters and admirer notes was sweet to him in a sense?

One day he randomly went to your farm and barged into your home, you know like how best friends do. He grabbed a few drinks from your fridge as he watched you make a grocery list. You were humming a soft tune while Shane's eyes got wider and wider as he saw you write. He spit out his drink causing you to stare at him strangely. "Shane! The hell dude? You alright?" You'd ask and he just stared at you like '😲'

You look at him like 'wtf?? you okay???' and he just wipes off the juice on his chin and helps clean up the spilt juice. His ears and cheeks were turning red as he did so, covering his mouth and stifling a nervous/awkward laugh.

"Your handwriting... I recognized it from the notes." he says quickly and you just go from "what??" to "WHAT" very quickly, absolutely shocked he could figure it out so easily from such a small detail!. You both stayed in awkward silence for a good 3 minutes as he helped clean.

He let out a cough and just quickly ruffled your hair and looked away "Don't worry.. I like you too.. the letters are uh nice too by the way.." is all he says. You both stay in an awkward silence for another good 5 minutes

After the awkwardness you both have a good talk and decide LETS MAKE IT OFFICIAL!! Yall both like eachother! Yall both wanna be together! So like why not!?!??! And oh wow he is one of the best boyfriends you've ever had :)!

He tries his best to improve his flaws, he knows he's not the best person and he's willing to change not just for himself but for you too, he wants to feel better about who he is now that he has you and he wants you to see him as who he wants to be as well.

You both plan out lots of activities together while dating and such, both of you are pretty much inseparable and no one is surprised you two started dating :)! (I FEEL LIKE MAKING SHANE BF HEADCANONS NOW OMG-)

For your guys' anniversary what he does is make you a letter and sends it with flowers, usually signing it 'secret admirer' and at the bottom he puts a little 'P.S it's actually your bf' just so that you don't get uncomfortable thinking it might be someone else lmao

You get really embarrassed when he brings up the fact you wrote him secret love letters and sent them to him, you thought it was a little cringe of you to do and it made you seem weird, but to him it was rather sweet, he loved it. From time to time he asks you to make some if you're comfortable with since the letters always made his day when he read them everyday! they made him feel better about himself :)!

..

bonus - > (definitely the little spoon when cuddling ANYWAYS.)

[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?”

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[redr0sewrites]

batfam incorrect quotes as actual conversations/text conversations i've had - Pt 1

🥀A/n: just me being silly goofy idk

Dick: Bruce said we can have cereal

Jason: SAVE ME SOME LIFE. I SWEAR.

Jason: if you eat all of the life i am actually going to bite you.

Jason: istg Richard John Grayson

Dick: Tim just took it all sorry get mad at him not me

Dick: even after i told him about the warning...

Jason (in private messages): Timothy Jackson Drake. you know what you did.

Tim: what did i do

Jason: you know what you did.

Tim: is is because i ate the last of the life cereal?

Jason: WHAT DO YOU THINK⁉️

Tim: Well Dick didn’t tell me until after I had poured it

Jason: don't try to pin this on her

Jason: Hee*

Jason: HIM*

Tim: her???

Tim: hee???

Jason: SHUT UP

Tim: hehehehehehe

Bruce: Btw how is your chest?

Tim: i literally just coughed are you stalking me???

*silence*

Tim: it's ok, kinda the same

Bruce: Ha!

Tim: ???

Stephanie: why must i suffer for the sins of my forefathers?

Stephanie: (period cramps)

Tim: stay strong 😞😞😞😞😞 my deepest condolences

Stephanie: u ever think about sending something so unhinged but then realize how unhinged it sounds and u have to remind yourself normal people do not say those things bc same

Stephanie: (it was about a crush 🙂)

Tim:LMFAAOOAOAOAOAOAOAOAOAA ???

Stephanie: she could fix my period cramps….. will not tell u how or why

Tim: PLEASEEE 💀💀💀💀💀

Stephanie: i need to go invent a new type of sex so i can be inside of her like actually- im gonna flip my vagina inside out or something i swear

Tim: the greatest mind of our generation FR!!!!

Stephanie: 5 minute crafts: how to gain a penis

Stephanie: the voices... the voices...

Stephanie: i habe a test on wednesday 💔

Barbara: its 11:11, wish for it to go well trust

Stephanie: I MKSSED JT STOP

Barbara: i wished for u dw

Stephanie: thank u girl 🙏🏻

this is my form of peak entertainment i WILL be doing more of these, lmk what yall think!!! (in each of these situations i was a different person. i was jason in the first one, tim in the second, steph in the third and barbara in the fourth)

[thecluelessdoctor]

ok ok fine I'll make the rant I've been planning for like.. a week now.

It's about time I talk about Helluva Boss, It's fandom, and it's creators themselves.

i personally really love helluva boss, even though it definitely has fallen short since the last season. I think the most recent episode is probably going to be their best one and they'll go back to falling. but, personally, I like the show! It's goofy and when it's not being srs, it does it's jokes well! Normally. There is one joke I hate though (if yk, yk. It's in happy campers 💀) ANYWAY

Character design in the show is... okay?? I guess???ammon looks like a Christmas tree so idk man.

But we aren't here to talk about the show itself rn. I just had to say some praises before I start bashing it otherwise stans will come after me and that's not a fun brawl.

ANYWAY *SLAMS ON UR DESK* AA

I wanna talk about it's fans. Some of its fans are really chill (like myself) and only get stirred up if something really bad is being made of is happening. But other fans are more.. intense. It's in every fandom so I won't say too too much on it, but yall- stans please chill out- let bigons be bigons endless its something immoral. (Like more than murder. Yk what I mean)

The major reason I wanted to make this is to talk about Viv, and spindlehorse in general. Mainly because of my recent AU, I really need to make this clear.

I do not support Vivziepop, or any of viv's actions.

Ive been reading about all the controversy and discourse involving her and Brandon (yeah he's not innocent here don't act like he is) (we will only be talking about recent things, basically from Hazbin to now)

And jts.. something.

Abusive work, transphobia, ablelism, favoritism etc etc. yeah so that's fun.. it's hard to know what is stated is true or not, so I'll just settle on saying this

Viv is juvenility petty. Like, I'm still pretty young, but this is just insane. I grew out of these behaviors by 11ish, and I'm still younger than 16. She's what- 30ish now?!? She shouldn't be acting the way she is at her age, just saying.

I also wanna touch a bit on Brandon (even though I know less about him than I do Viv) but I.. highly dislike how people are claiming Brandon to be innocent and Viv isnt. Like- that's not fair. Let me point this out, viv and Brandon are working TOGETHER on this, all the writing and shit. Meaning Brandon also gave the "yeah this is good" to all of her petty shit.

Anyway let me wrap up by saying don't attack anyone mentioned or implied here, because doing that is cringe and it just waists your time. Anyway I'm dotty, and I'm a homosexual

[pinkprettycure]

Two posts: Makeup is more fun when you basiclt never wear jt so it's always a silly novelty.

And:

A lot of yall get weird and defensive about other ppl not wearing makeup and I think thats something you should work out in therapy we can not help u with that

[stormblessed95]

Hey Stormy! I've been catching up on a lot of old content recently and it got me thinking about the members' dynamics and I realized I rarely ever see anything about Tae and Joon's friendship. Do you have any favorite/cute taejoon moments???

I LOVE their friendship so much 😭😭😭 Can we talk about this hug sequence when they both named each other as their first pick to be partners in a photoshoot

Taehyung is always and forever RMs biggest hype man and fan

RM will always go along with what Tae wants to do and act goofy for him. This goes hand in hand for when he talked about how when they first met he knew Tae would never listen to him and that he never understood him. Only that then he learned to speak and understand Tae in the way Tae communicates and meet him where he is at. And now Tae would talk about how Joon knows and understands him so well. And Joon just plays along with his goofiness always and jts so cute

https://twitter.com/vtss95/status/1312993366796189698?t=zD0CkxBIzoe0T3EOSFTUKA&s=19

The way they hug each other

Tae is Joon's baby, CONFIRMED!!!! Tae complaining about Joon leaving the door open and mosquitoes getting in and Joonie just going "I'm sorry baby" IM DEADDDD 😭😍

Confirmed back then and confirmed present day always

Confirmed again when Hobi wrote Taes 2020 Festa profile for him snd said that Joon was like Tae's dad and he was like Tae's mom lmao. He is really their baby for real

The ITS serenade, AMAZING

That's his baby yall 😭😍🥰

Their friendship is CRIMINALLY UNDERRATED. It's amazing and beautiful and so deeply caring. They know each other so well and the trust is so deep snd they have so much fun together. They are incredibly close and it needs to be celebrated MORE. The way I could do a million parts to this ask. I love them!

[momsforroadhead]

idk shit about degrassi let's go with 2, 6, 8, 21, and 22?

YES you can't imagine how happy i am to be doing this i can't talk about degrassi to anyone and the fandom is kinda dead

2. a compelling argument for why my fave would never top or bottom: this question is crazy cause degrassi characters get to be like... 19 at the oldest (not that they die, the just age out and cycle out of the show) so let's imagine them older. now other problem there's like 36 000 of them total starting in the 80s and ending in the 2010s BUT if i pick a fave let's go with Eli Goldsworthy and make a bold claim: he would never top. in canon he's straight (the writers are wrong on this one) but i fully believe that any woman he has ever been with/will ever be with pegs him. he's simply too weak sauce to have the energy to top anybody. he has other things on his mind.

6. which ship fans are the most annoying: like i mentionned, the fandom is kinda dead so i don't really know fandom opinions apart for the yt comments when degrassi was still on youtube for free (booo hbo fuck you) BUT! i will say that people got really invested in Craig/Manny for some reason (he was always awful to her) and started hating Ellie as a result. Now yes Ellie was super misogynistic towards Manny, but that's not really a reason for the fandom to then be super misogynistic towards her. I love Ellie Nash she's my queen get off her back! yes she's whiny and a bitch. it's literally fine.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about: OOUUH!! A lot of people hate Connor, which is SO WRONG. They hate him for stealing girls' underwear (which i will admit is creepy and weird) but like... degrassi is the everybody gets a second chance show... yall love Peter (so do i!!) and he literally distributed revenge porn of Manny so..... you just hate Connor cause you can't handle his autistic swag. but i can. i love him. him and jenna are my favourite couple and he's aspec in my head. (also he's a case of "if a white character did the same thing you all would love him" but let's not even go there)

also everybody hates tristan and he literally did nothing wrong. and people hate ellie and she's perfect. and people hate jane and why do you people have so much hate in your heart

21. part of canon i think is overhyped: i'm really having to think about this one cause idk if any part is really hyped all that much lmao degrassi fans, we love to complain...... i'll say a part of canon that i wish wasn't there is Adam's death. JT and Cam felt earned and realistic, but Adam... idk it just came out of nowhere..... and he's literally one of ma faves.....

22. my favourite part of canon that everyone else ignores: omgomgomgomg Marco and Ellie hooking up post graduation. for context Marco's like BEEN fully gay. and he hooks up with Ellie out of sheer codependency which is, in my opinion, HILARIOUS. also, he says that the worst part is he didn't want it to stop (they didn't go all the way) and if the writers of that episode weren't COWARDS he would've had a real reflection on the fluidity of sexuality but oh well. it's an iconic throwaway plotline and one of the foundational building blocks in my evil Craig/Ellie/Marco codependent love triangle polycule

[kalims]

rating my moots,

cause why not?!

note that I didn't add everyone since I felt too shy to tag em aksbsnna

1. @kalimsstan

9/10 because I've never had a fan account before, the interview was very fun and I cackled when I saw the AMOUNT OF TAGS USED WHEN I CHANGED MY THEME AJSBSJ

2. @ravenlking

9/10!! guys meet my editor in quotev. raven is very patient and fun to talk to ☺ its always a great time where we manage to strike a conversation together

3. @not-idia-shroud

10/10. ah yes, rain. remember when we literally never chat at the same time in discord? BYE I BE WAITING FOR A RESPONSE AND WHEN I GET IT ITS THE NEXT DAY

4. @v-anrouge

8/10. because we actually haven't interacted much and we mooted when I saw that they follow me and I followed them in turn cause they seem like a cool person!

5. @twistedlotus

7/10. IDK WHEN THIS HAPPENED HLP UMMM... HI ELARIA U HAVE A NICE NAME??? 😭

6. @a-hollow-angel

10/10. I swear they work a full time job liking all my posts 😩 like I fr post once then I get a notification immediately.. it doesn't matter when it happens,, THEY JUST DO JT

7. @merotwst

11/10!! ellie da best and I've known her for like.. LESS THAN A MONTH?? A MONTH?? MORE THAN A MONTH?!?!? idk man basta. she had big lady balls if steel (which she said somewhere in discord I just don't remember the specifics)

8. @myujis

10/10. vivi i miss u 🥺😭.. anyways yh I actually got confused on who myuji was then I saw it was vivi and went: OHH

9. @akiville3

12/10 MISOOOOOOO HIIIIIIII <333333 NEED I SAY MORE?!

10. @hytyyto

8/10. HEYOOO I barely do talk with yall and am sorry but I'm very busy.. 😭 PLS TALK TO ME IF UCAN I WILL TALK WIT U <3

11. @yuistan

8/10. not as close as well but I will spoonfeed my moots a handful of chicken soup you know.. unless other soup if you don't like chicken 😚

12. @spadecentral

9/10. very nice, sends me sweet stuff 🥺 ngl highkey keeps confusing myself who ellie and eli is.. 😭

13. @malleusball

10/10 one of my longest moots ever! we go WAYYY BACK even in the most atrocious times I don't want to remember <3

14. @kerosenesin

10/10. I THINK U IS DUST?? LEONALOVER69???pls I double checked if i mistook u as someone else again.. SAY LEONA IF UR THEM

15. @chenyann

10/10. yako i started panicking when I didn't see ur user on my following page but turns out I was just being blind. anywaysss ily

16. @twstwonderlandstuff

8/10. AYEEE ANOTHER FELLOW WRITER! on a side note, when a blog I like follows me you know I'm following back ASAP, destroying the screen type shit

17. @zgvlt

13/10. IDK WHY BUT NATHYA IS JUST 13 POINTS. I love her works sm as well as the graphic designs of her posts!! it's so aesthetically pleasing to me eyes I'm cryin (the one follow I could NOT GET OVER FOR DAYS)

18. @riddlesimp

8/10. ANGELLLL HALLOOO we haven't talked much despite us being moots for a long time ong 😭😭 angel is very sweet and apparently my daughter in law

19. @zeina-is-bored

2/10 (/J) MINUS SIX BECAUSE YOU DIDNT INVITE ME TO THR WEDDING. ☹☹☹😞😞😞😞😭😭😭😭😭😭

20. @rggie

11/10. if there's someone other than nathya with amazing graphics it's definitely mal. I can see the effort put into her theme!! gods I swear all of her blog is all connected to one theme and I love it!! IS U OK THO BABES??

21. @arent-i-the-fairest

8/10. cutieee!! love the works, I love me a bunch of neige works I can binge read <3 every1 should appreciate the rsa writers I swear

22. @achy-boo

1/10 (/j) I swear the friendship we have is so chaotic, WEVE INSULTED EACH OTHER MQNY TIMES AND CALLED EACH OTHER BITCHES QKSHKAKQ

23. @dicetheroll

8/10. see you soon dice! good luck on your finals.. when i first followed dice i immediately ran straight to the OM!works once I saw they wrote. It was AMAZING

24. @scara-lovebot

9/10. you are the one that shaped our minion coochie gc theme <3 my most prominent memory of you was the minion tampons era

25. @jabberwockk

8/10. chris :o was the one that answered me patiently when my dumbass didn't go to google for a fat answer when I asked for the birthdays of the characters.. we had a crisis about being broke together

26. @soldmygenderforglitter

9/10. I MISS U BAEEEEEE.. ilysm for talking to me in dms in tumblr for nearly everyday! I'm so sorry bout the late replies sometimes t-t I hope ur doing well babes

27. @celiapoststuff

10/10. MY CHILDSDDDDDDDDDD who adopted ME instead of the other way around lololol. love ya celia and your like for xiao and kalpas

28. @dr3amscap3

3/10 omg we haven't talked so long bt I GIVE U A 3 (JOKINGLY) BECAUSE U STARTED THE RICKROLL ROSA CHAIN AND NOW I CANT GET AWAY FROM RICK ASTLEY AND THE RICKROLLS 😭😭😭

29. @ravynous

1921739/10. THE BEST PERSON I SWEAR. RAVY ILYSMMMN <333 ur always there for me and so supportive.. how are you doing bae 😭💞 I hope ur kicking finals ass instead of the other way around

30. @raix-lv

1038171/10 REMEMBER WHEN WE MET THROUGH THE NEIGR ARTICLE JEEZ THAT WAS SO CHAOTIC. anyways, I can definitely say rai is one of my closest moots. GIRL WHERE HAVE U BEEN

31. @hxnarii

192911/10 we became moots after my vent post I think?? I thought u were really nice & kind so I followed u. GODS I DONT EVER REGRET MEETING UR RANDOM BRAIN (also ty for the pjsekai acc yknow yknow <3)

32. @nanamisflowerfield

11/10. OK LISTEN WE BARELT TALKED. the last thing I remember is the manhwa reccs but nanami is so sweet I swear YOU CAN SEE IT ON HER BLOG ITSELF SHES SO NICE

33. @honey-milk-depresso

192719/10 MY FIRST EVER MOOT AND YES I REMEMBER. I've seen honey around when I was writing for genshin her comments were so sweet! even though she keeps denying her love for the three men I still love her <3 mwa

34. @cynthinesia

9/10. I had to edit to add u SRYYYY UHMMM WERE U THE CATER PISS BOTTLE SOMETHING PERSON

35. @cupids-chamber

-12028/10 JOKES ON YOU IT ISNT BEST FOR LAST 👿 you never forget to remind me of the rickrolls (aka bane of my existence) THR AMOUNT OF CHAOS IN UR SERVER I SWEAR. DONT THIK I FORGOT THE TIME WHERE I JOINED ONE OF UR SERVERS AND IMMEDIATELY GOT RICKROLLED NOT EVEN 5 SECS IN

THERES MORE BUT NABSKA

gods did I have that much moots