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#even though its probably not as funny to yall
souptomatobasil · 6 months
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Hello and welcome to the "ah fuck i skipped like two updates by accident" MEGA UPDATE Whoops <3 Anyway here's everything you missed ok im gonna go back to working on the rest of the comic now <3
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possiblytracker · 8 months
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gods wettest saddest most pathetic creature wandering despairingly through long cold airport corridor to find exit after dropping off beloved friend and grappling with the realisation that this feeling is going to recur throughout the rest of their life forever and ever but maybe the incredible lifechanging love and companionship they have and will get to experience along with it makes it all worth it now and for the future. even if right now in this corridor it still hurts like a motherfucker
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snekdood · 11 months
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honestly i should’ve known something was wrong with my abuser, aside from the many, and in retrospect, obvious red flags, like drawing rape porn, they also both told me some guy was a creep who essentially wanted to rape rich women and get them addicted to drugs to “ruin their lives” and then acted like this guy was shitty and that we should avoid him and then ALSO take me over to the place where he lived.
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userdaisy · 2 years
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i shouldnt be allowed to think
#light.txt#anygays theres this guy from hc in my cross cca bonding group thing#i may or may not have a crush on him 😵‍💫#i have found his insta 🤙 through the cca insta djsjjsjs#and we are mutuals there yeehaw#and now bc i cant start a conversation for my life#i require assistance in sorting out my stupid emotions and maybe advice on actually making friends with him haha 🥹#and we’ve both probably seen each other without the mask at least once (i think hes seen my face??? idk for sure though)#this is prob so confusing for yall im gonna stop here before i make yall go crazy too 🥹#but its saur funny at the same time bc hes a soloist in v1 and im here v2 back desk 🥹🤙#and hes like. 2 years older and besties with the chairman 😵‍💫 and i havent even saved our cca leader’s number#hahaha and i might have destroyed any good perception he has of me bc our ex-bel made the ny people in our group ask the hc guys a strange#question each#and i had to ask him his subject combi 🥹#which is mortifying already#but then me being the epitome of tumblr cringe#exaggerated a lot of stuff 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 lord save my soul#and he prob thinks my music taste is weird (maybe bc it actually is djsjsjjsjs)#bc i played ptg during icebreaker games 😭#and also for the self intros i dont even know why i said what i said 🥹#i said i was ‘chronically online’ 😭😭 how are any of them supposed to know what that means#theres a lot more than this but im not posting bc its way to embarrassing 🥹#weow this started with me needing Normal Human advice and slowly deteriorated into my going insane 🤙#tw rant#kinda rant ????#pls if any of you have advice just dm me or something 🥹👍 i dont like being in this state of mind
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sanjisblackasswife · 8 months
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……we’re gonna need a fic about y/n leaving dickies on the monster trio….. and law…. Pretty please….😀🥹😙😙😙
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𝔾𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℍ𝕚𝕞 𝕒 𝔻𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕪
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If yall dont know what a dickey is its a hickey on a dick.
Ft. Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Law
Blk Fem Reader in Mind
CW: Dick sucking.
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Sanji
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It turns him on in the worst way.
The first time you sucked his dick you overstimulated him to the point he was blabbering between “Please stop” and keep going.
The day after that he woke up to do his usual routine of getting ready when looking down to pee he noticed a small bruise under his tip.
“I—…Y/nnnnn!”
Like a child running to their parent’s room to tell them they three up he stood by your sleeping body and tapped your shoulder in a small panic.
“Y/n…baby…baby lookit.”
You were still half sleep, so turning around to see a naked Sanji with his semi- hard cock dangling 5 inches from your face made you peer up at him.
“Sanji, I told you if you wanna use me while i’m sleep use me.” You tried turning over, voice still sleepy, he wanted to laugh a little at youur drowsy voice but shook you some more.
“N-no Y/N. It’s this. This bruise you left. I think you left a hickey on me.”
That woke you up.
Sanji was shocked, and excited all at once he nearly forgot he had to get dressed to start cooking. He couldn’t stop praising you for leaving your mark on him.
“Y/N can…can you do this again”
“What?”
“IT’S GANNA WEAR OFF SOON I WANNA KEEP IT”
You on the other hand couldn’t be more embarrassed. You didn’t mean to suck his dick THAT hard. You probably should have stopped the first time you heard him scream.
Luffy
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It’s very hard to leave a hickey on him at all with his rubbery ass body, you have in the past but it took A LOT of trial and error.
When you did finally pop off and away from your boyfriend’s pelvis you felt a little pride erupting from your stomach seeing a tiny little purple spot form on his shaft.
“I did it!”
“Did what.”
You never really told Luffy you wanted to leave a dickey on him. You kept it as your own personal goal so you didn’t know how to properly explain it to him
“You can do that?!” Luffy immediately sees the hickey on his dick and starts CRACKING UP as if he didn’t just cum like a whiney slut a few seconds ago.
“You’re like a puffer fish!”
“Shut up, Luffy!”
It just tickles him to know you sucked on his dick so much just to leave such a small mark. It wasn’t bad at all, but funny none theless. Now he actually expects a dickey from you.
Which.
Have fun with getting lock jaw everytime you go down on him now.
Zoro
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Didn’t even know it was possible and neither did you so when you when to experiment Zoro damn near started actually moaning and whining due to overstimulation.
“O-okay okay okay fuck—you tried long enough! We can’t—FUCK—-!”
You were determined to leave that damn hickey, your mouth was wet and covered in drool, his cum, and your lips started to swell a little. Luckily you loved sucking him off anyways so this was just another Tuesday for you.
You really wanted to leave a pretty mark on his tip.
And that you eventually did.
“HA!” You smile, face wet, teary eye’d and flustered. You rub your thumb on the tip of the sensitive dick and it causes Zoro to grab your wrist.
He was absolutely exhausted.
“You got it. Please….fucking stop.”
“You’re so lame. But look! I did it!” 😁
Zoro just doesn’t understand you or the point of why you had to damn near suck the soul out of him for a bruise that’s ganna wear off in a few hours.
….He does like looking at it though. It reminds him of his slutty little girlfriend.
Law
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He bruises very easily.
So this wasnt too hard you actually leave him in dickeys all the time
and everytime you point it out he hates it.
every
single
time
“I hate that fucking word.”
“I think it’s cute. Like your dick.”
“ENOUGH.”
Doesn’t get the point of it, he thinks you’re a sadist for it. You tend to bruise him up a LOT when you both get intimate.
He does get a little shy when you point out how good of a boy he was taking it. It’s almost as if he loves being praised and marked by you.
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shower-phantom-ideas · 6 months
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Bruh fam yall I just had this idea instead of exiting the shower!
Danny and Dani are never seen together. Like ever by any other Hero.
It starts off as just Danny working with the others and then he goes home to tell Dani all about it. Or OR Dani really wanted to tag along with Danny to meet the others but hearing about how Superman was Danny is worried for her safety so it’s a “you can’t show yourself but you can come. If you promise me to stay hidden the entire time. Please” so she agrees and tags along. They both are probably very worried about the Justice League (since the ecto acts and the League aligned with the government)
Danny doesn’t join up per-say but he is like on call if they truly need help. Though normally he just shows up if they need him. They have no idea how he knows. Cut to one day Danny is unable to go so Dani goes in his place. Shes always gone with him so she knows everything he does right? Lord is Danny super worried about her, his protection obsession going into overdrive. He trusts her though and she goes.
Thing is shes also a bit worried about the League. She just shows up and tries her best to stay out of their way and get the job done. Then it happens. Shes called over with a “HEY! Phantom!” A deep breath to calm herself and she flys over. ‘It’s ok Dani they haven’t attacked Danny once. You ate gonna be fine’ kinda deal. Shes putting up a mask or smiles like Danny always does. She has seen him interact with the League tons of times so she can imitate his behaviour with them to a T.
This of course caused some confusion among the League “are you a girl?” And just like that she gets an idea. A great Idea! If they don’t know that there are two of them then one will always be able to save the other. Plus it would be funny. So she goes full ham into the bit. “Oh yea hehe its just how i feel.” Time to put on the sheepish Danny act of rubbing the back of her neck and looking away “I uhh hope you guys don’t mind me being a girl”
Bam they all bite. Saying stuff about being who you feel you are or whatever. Accepting her on the spot. Well accepting the fact that Danny can be whoever he feels right being. At least they aren’t complete assholes. Though The Batman is giving her this look. She decided to use that to her advantage. Better the team think the bat is homophobic than to get on her case. It works of course. If she learned anything from Vlad it’s how to put on an act. As she flies off she can even still hear the team berating The Batman for his old fashioned backwards ways. Takes everything she has not to giggle as she goes, can’t have Superman hearing that.
When she tells Danny about it he just giver her a wicked grin. It’s been ages since the gremlin duo had this kind of fun.
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lifeonmarz-blog · 5 months
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Moon through the zodiac
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Aries: Your blunt and it often comes across as insensitive. Yet at the same time people may think your too sensitive. Growing up your household was very busy and or very gossipy. People may question your intentions alot with this placement even if your not doing anything some may still assume your up to no good. Its almost like damn all that assuming you might as well actually do something. The way you express yourself is always being judged and people are always trying to ''correct'' it. Causing you to be anti social, very particular on who you share your personality with or a bully. The way you express yourself is very unique just like your sense of humor you be accidentally funny as hell and thats needed in this world dont give away your power to people and allow them to change you into a dolice version of yourself. Light fire under they ass the way you how to. Anyways I wouldnt be surprised if you daydream about your ideal life alot, careful not to be in your head too much and create unrealistic expectations for yourself or others to uphold. I want yall to stop being so hard on yourself. If nobody else tell yall ima tell you i love how passionately you express yourself. The purpose of your moon being here is for you to learn more about yourself and who you are and how your actions/reactions affect others. Step away from whats familiar and comfortable and dig deep. Listen to your intuition. Have some fucking fun.
Taurus: Its your way or the highway HUH? Your moon chose to be here becasue you are the defender. There will be times were you feel your back is against the wall and you face alot of scrutiny from the world. They may come down on you hard but if you can withstand the pressure you will be rewarded. Willpower and self discipline comes easier for you. You have the tendency to be arrogant, domineering and passive aggressive. A good leader keeps those emotions in check. Yall get stuck in yall ways fr i want yall to put more energy into leaving your comfort zone and taking risk. Slow down smell the roses and enjoy where you are. Dont be all work and no play.
Gemini: Yall love some drama. Somehow always ending up in the middle of some shit. Seeing others as competition even when them ppl not worried about you. You like being the center of attention and dont care if its in a postive or negative light. It works for yall though because popularity comes easy for you. This is one of the most social placements for the moon to be. Your reputation means alot to you and networking is high on your priority list. Its common for yall to feel like you always have to choose between something. It may be hard for you to balance your work life and home life. In friendships and relationships you choose to keep the blindfold on ignoring whats really in front of you, procrastinating to handle your problems just hoping theyll go away on there on. You end up in situations where people are betraying you. With the two sides to gemini its like a secret element to your life. Your no stranger to scandal. I feel for you, this isnt a easy place to have the moon be. You care so much about your relationships with people but yet often have issues with ppl. This couldve stemmed from feeling like you were a target growing up that people always chose to pick with you. Or that you were punished more extremely than others. With this placement you've probably seen or experienced things that really made you question humanity. Dont let those experiences shape the type of person you'll be. You gotta learn to let shit go and not be bitter or have a victim mentality. Be careful not to burn yourself out. Drowning yourself in work to ignore your feelings. You dont always have to do everything on your own... collaborating is just as rewarding i promise. It would be beneficial to learn how to except help, knowing when to back down and not being so critical of yourself.
Cancer: If they dont appreciate everything you do FCK EM. No but fr with moon here you may feel like people overlook the things you do for them. Cancer moons can be way to stubborn and stand in there on way because of the fear of change. Repeating the same lessons way more than they should have to. When your redirect your energy to new experiences and growth your determination and passion unmatched. This is type of person you want to have on your team they bring so much positive energy and comfort.
Leo: Main character syndrome AF lol Unnecessarily rebellious at times growing up you may have felt your parents were controlling on how you expressed your creativity or because of the way you grew up you express your creativity in a rebellious way in relation to your family. Your career could be taboo. I could see a lot of onlyfans stars having moon in leo. Success in career comes more natural for you because of your consistency and ambitious nature. Yall really find pleasure in chasing money. Dont get so carried away with fulfilling your material desires that you dont leave time for introspection and searching for who you really are away from the titles.
Virgo: How does it feel to be kids favorite? A happy home life is important for this placement. Theres an innate need to belong. You love parties, holidays and kids ofc. Hosting parties and having a full house will give you happiness. Where this placement gets stuck is not being able to let go of the past. Getting sucked into the loophole of self pity and regret. Focus your attention on what you can do and what you can change. You work better with other ppl there to bounce ideas off of. Let your gaurd down, Succuss is reached quicker for you when you collaborate. Having this placement is testing your ability to strengthen your willpower and resourcefulness. Once you can do that you'll manifest way easier. Careful not to live beyond your means. Dont let desires put you in debt. Trust your intution, take the first step and take the risk. You go be perfectly fine.
Libra: Your love language is def quality time and acts of service this is very important for this placement to feel loved. Yall thrive in group settings and really value friendships. Even if you dont talk that much it makes you feel better to be around others. If you want to get with a Libra moon the best way is to become their friend first. You may have a tendency to put yourself in drama and create chaos among your inner circle though lil messy ass. Always wanting to be right, when this placement is in its lower natures is a good example of the native american folklore of the hunter that stuck a blood coated blade in ice knowing the wolf couldnt resist. It licked the blade continuously not realizing it was slowing bleeding out. The only way for the wolf to survive is to acknowledge its self destructive behavior. Bottom line just because you can ignore something doesnt mean others are going to do the same. Just becasue it didnt effect you doesnt mean it didnt effect them. Make the effort to listen to understand not listen to respond. Your words matter use them responsibly and take breaks from people or things when you feel you need to, your mental health will thank you.
Scorpio: Transformation happens with this placement alot. Moments of feeling isolated or depressed may be brought on by extreme emotional shifts. Anxiety and fear is no stranger to the scorpio moon. It can be to the point of really debilitating you. You've experienced things you've kept to yourself or have repressed but the issue continues to reappear time after time like a broken record. If it hasnt been dealt with it way on you really heavy and appear in your dreams often. You've felt shame, not understanding how you couldve allowed yourself to be in that predicament in the first place but seriously bro shit happens. It can be hard to maintain emotional balance with moon in scorpio, so its essential to have methods to release your emotions in healthy ways. Careful not to become bitter or victimizing with things dont go the way your controlling ass intends. Vengeance doesnt work well for you it often backfires, you'll try to set somebody house on fire and you burn yourself in the process. You may feel that people often oppose for no reason that you have to go through power struggles to be heard or to get the things you want. You may second guess opening up and are critical of yourself and others but opening yourself up to the world will be one of the best things you can do for your relationships and career. Your maturity and originality is threatening. Express yourself in your full nature and make people adapt to you not the other way around. You have authoritarian energy and if your putting yourself out there which ik you are, yr often mistaken for the boss. That is if your not already the boss. Im sure your that your the boss. Mwahahaha. Your demeanor comes across as serious and strict. Ppl naturally think let me not play with them. Your standards are high for yourself and your partner. You wouldnt be with somebody who doesnt match up to your standard. You need to feel like the person you’re with is equally as respected as you in any room you walk in.
Sagittarius: Im sure you believe you were meant to be famous. Sagittarius moons are very charismatic and great negotiators with a very convincing personality they are great at creating solutions quickly. So ofc that makes its very easy for them to make friends. In relationships they attract and are attracted to more dominate personalities. Loving the idea of love but really being in denial about that. Def gives player vibes they have flirtatious ass whore ways lmao. If you cheating ik you not even finna try hard to hide it. Easily bored they will chase thrills lowkey in a running from your problems type of way. Where sag moons can grow is appreciating the value they bring and not feeling the need to always compare themselves to others. Don't attach your self worth to financial security. Be more secure in what you believe and don't back down so easily when others challenge your ideas.
Capricorn: The moon doesn't like being here. Its emotionally depressing actually lol. I'm sure you've already read enough depressing interpretations on cap moons tho so this one is not going to be that. This one is meant to empower you. Youve experienced alot of chaos anger and pain. You've experienced very intense situations that have completely emotional up rooted you. But the smoke always clears and its important for to spend time away from the people and places that have caused this. Take the steps needed to regroup to be by yourself to develop better understanding of your emotions and learn what it is that truly want from your life. If you are not following your intuition it is easy for you to end up in friendships and relationships that do not mean you well. Your not the type of person who can just hang with anyone you need to very intentional about who you allow into your life. Communicate your feelings stop keeping everything bottled in. That shit will drive yo ass crazy. You dont have to be the strong friend all the time your emotions are valid, open up to ppl and share that shit because you dont share often you open up and talk people listen. Use that power to help others that have been through similar experiences to you. When you succeed in whatever obstacles you overcome ppl cant do anything but respect it bc your road was slow and steady but you stayed with it. When it comes to relationships you are very black and white you'll commit yourself fast but if you feel you cant trust the person you may still deal with them but emotional you shut them out. You like being partnered up rather its a relationship or situtationship you deal with the person for a long time.
Aquarius: I want to give you a hug, you are too analytical for your own good. Baby you need to stop thinking so much and you need to feel, you need to experience, act on impulse, dont give yourself time to think about everything that could go wrong. You sabotage so much of your own happiness that way. But i understand people have disappointed you so many times you feel you must do everything on your own. Its like nobody understands you or that people are committed to misunderstanding you. But news flash your not that expressive with your feelings how is anybody going to know if you dont tell them. Yall are cute though with yall dry ass humor. Listen stop being such a fly on the wall you hold as much value as anyone else stop acting like your presence is a fuckn burden. You dont have be agreeable all the the time they will be O FUCKN K. You are very intelligent and more people need to know that. Believing in yourself and communicating is your lesson. Shine your light and stop playing like fr...
Pisces: Ok we’re gonna get the sad shit out the way first. Just how yall like. I really feel like yr parents just let yall cry it out as a baby and you took that personal lmao. No but fr i feel like you always came across like you can handle things so you weren’t really checked on everyone just assumes you'll be ok. You come across as very strong and resilient which is beautiful but everybody needs a shoulder to lean on. Okay now remember how i said yall took that personally ummhm you can be very vengeful never forgetting he littlest slight somebody done towards you. Yall resort to committing crimes rather easily if you need some money lmao im not mad at it though. Literally rationalizing damn near anything if that means youll get what you want. And another thing yall be lying fr. lol sometimes it really do be on accident though you just forgot what really happened and your imagination is very vivid you thought that was the truth. You can be too hard on yourself sometimes you see very clearly the person you want to be so you put so many time limits and expectations on yourself. Chill out enjoy the journey and flow through life the way you know how to. You have very high standards so anything you invest your energy too is executed properly. I honestly cant even imagine a Pisces moon not running their own business. Im sure you cant either. You naturally have very authoritarian energy. Theres not much push and pull when it comes to you getting your way people go with your flow pretty easily. Naturally you wouldnt assume a pisces to be practical but they actually are. Sure they dream big but if they didnt know how to practically implement that into this realm that would just be depressing as hell. When yall find something that works for you, you are very disciplined at seeing it through. Very protective over those you love yall def give stand up when i walk in the room vibes lol
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svnnysidez · 3 months
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wonbin nsfw alphabet?
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a=aftercare: honestly, he doesnt do much, you do more for him then he does for you. you two cuddle afterwards but thats really it
b=body part: on you, your waist, god he loves your waist, his hands are always on it, always has an arm wrapped around it. whenever you're riding him his hands are always on your waist. on him, he likes his fingers, he loves to play guitar and his fingers are so strong from playing guitar, loves prodding at that spongey spot in your walls, his fingers so skilled at making you feel amazing.
c=cum: he loves to cum on your stomach, loves painting your pretty body with his cum (he ends up licking it all up)
d=dirty secret: whenever your out of the house and he gets needy he takes ur panties that you wore the most recent and fucks his fist using them 🤭
e=expirence: i'd say before you he probably had like 3-5 partners, but with them he didnt really do much but vanilla missionary sex with them. he knew how to please a girl before you but you taught him how to please you specifically he hes a fast learner yall 😏
f=favorite position: loves when you're on top of him !!
g=goofy: i'd say hes pretty funny, but he can be serious if he wants to be
h=hair: hes 100% shaved down, i wouldnt be suprised if he got waxed regularly
i=intimacy: can be intimate if its like a special occasion but he is more comfortable being a little sillier
j=jack off: even tho yall are having sex VERY regularly, he still jacks off, not as frequently as he used to, but he still does it a lot
k=kink: overstimulation but not on you, on him, he might pretend that he hates it, but GOD he loves when your hand is squeezing his cock hard making him cum 10x over without breaks,
l=location: just the bed, yall do too much when ur having sex to do it anywhere else
m=motivation: just anything, anything you do turns him on, with NO fail
n=no: he honestly says he would try anything once, doesnt have any limits
o=oral: LOVES giving and receiving, loves when hes making you feel so good and your hands are pulling his hair :(( and when your giving him head hes on cloud 9 😣 loves it so much, loves ur pretty mouth around his cock sucking him dry
p=pace: when hes on top he goes pretty fast but when you're riding him you go a little slower
q=quickie: hes iffy on them, it just depends on where and when, but sometimes he wants to take his time
r=risk: like i said before, hes always down to try anything once
s=stamina: he can go for SO long like its crazy how long wonbin lasts. can go for 8-9 rounds without getting tired
t=toys: loves getting toys involved, viberators, cock rings, butt plugs, the occasional dildo
u=unfair: he cant, cant tease you like at all, whatever you ask you get
v=volume: he gets so loud, whining, groaning, moaning, begging for you to go easier on him
w=wild card:
x=xray: hes pretty big probably around 6 1/2 to 7" i dont think hes that thick though
y=yearing: ALWAYS 24/7 hes always thinking abt it, always initiating stuff with you, again, like i said, he gets hard with like zero initiation from you
z=zzz: doesnt really sleep afterwards, like at all, he loves cuddling afterwards though!
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profectua · 3 months
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》BLUE LOCK Headcanons
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ; ɴᴏɴᴇ! ᴘᴜʀᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴍᴀᴏ
ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; ɪꜱᴀɢɪ, ʙᴀᴄʜɪʀᴀ, ᴄʜɪɢɪʀɪ, ᴋᴜɴɪɢᴀᴍɪ, ɴᴀɢɪ, ʀᴇᴏ, ʙᴀʀᴏᴜ, ʀɪɴ, ʜɪᴏʀɪ, ᴋᴀʀᴀꜱᴜ, ʏᴜᴋɪᴍɪʏᴀ, ᴏᴛᴏʏᴀ
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Isagi: Back when he was younger, he had a phase where he would do the dab whenever he scored a goal. It could be completely outdated too and people would cringe at him LMAO. Might’ve also done fortnite dance (he doesn’t even play fortnite). His teammates try to go over and celebrate but he randomly breaks into the orange justice (he can’t even do it properly) so they end up just standing there like 🧍. Let him have his moment I guess???
Bachira: He was one of those kids that played with insects outside or something (speaking from experience) 😭. You’d catch him playing outside and there were 3 worms, each with different names. He probably gave them sad backstories too. The neighbors thought he was weird as hell. If someone pointed it out, he’d be like “Stop being rude to them! They’re my friends!” And he’d actually look pissed off, exactly like this emoji 😠. If he comes back to the same spot only to find that they aren’t there, he’ll come home crying 😭 🙏 Please help him.
Chigiri: He’s canonically a moody guy…I feel like he ‘decides’ his mood for the day ykyk 😭. If it’s a clear sky, sunny day, he’ll choose to be happy but if he wakes up and it’s raining, he decides that he’s gonna be angry. Always ends up breaking character though. If he's laughing and suddenly remembers that he's supposed to be angry, he’ll immediately put on a blank expression again like 😐 and the people around him think they did something wrong LMAOO. Like??? What happened bro???
Kunigami: His go-to pose for photos is the thumbs up or the peace sign and HE LOOKS SO STIFF. He’s just there like 🙂 ✌️. He looks so awkward pls 😭. His little sister is trying so hard not to laugh and he’s just like ???? What's so funny?? If he’s accidentally photo-bombing and realises too late, he’ll strike that EXACT POSE until someone tells him to move cus his brain couldn’t process it ITS SO SAD 😭
Nagi: Once, when he was younger, he tried doing one of those free robux application things where you play a bunch of games for robux and he thought it was legit because some youtuber did it. His parents were like “Seishiro what are you even doing” and he was like “I’m grinding robux mom, you wouldn’t understand” Like Nagi…don’t even get your hopes up 😬. Long story short, it didn’t work and he ended up with some virus on his ipad. He woke his parents up at 3am and was like “um…I think I got hacked ☹️” His parents WERE NOT pleased 😭
Reo: Had a little rebellious phase where he only used cringey Gen Z slang. In front of his parents too and they’d stare at him like 😨. “Zamn ngl this food is bussin’ fr goated no cap,” said young Reo, at a luxurious 5-star restaurant. His mom almost choked on her food. Probably got side-eyed by the waiter too. He didn’t even realise that it wasn’t cool until he found out that NOBODY actually says all that 😭.
Barou: When he’s eating other people's food or eating at a restaurant, he judges it like he’s Gordan Ramsey or something??? Imagine he’s at someone's house for dinner and then when they’re eating he has this whole routine. First he sniffs, feels the texture, then he examines with his eyes, and finally starts eating. You’ll tell if he likes it or not from his expressions 💀 He’ll start interrogating too LMAO. He’d be like “What kind of spice is this?” “How much salt did you add?” HE’S NOT PLAYING YALL.
Rin: Took elementary dodgeball SERIOUSLY. He’d yell at his teammates. Losing? Not on his watch. “WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?! IT’S DODGE BALL NOT GET HIT IN THE FACE BALL YOU LOSER!”. If he ever lost a game in PE, he’d start crying and throwing a fit, all while blaming his teammates. He would act like an angel if Sae was there though LMAO.
Hiori: He tries to re-enact cool moves from video games. Like if there's a character that has a cool playstyle he’ll literally hop out of his gaming chair just to swing a spatula around 😭. He got the sound effects goin on too, you can hear little pews and booms. Or if there’s a specific voice line from the final boss that he thinks sounds cool he’ll say it out loud (sometimes his parents hear and they think that he’s lost it not that they care though.)
Karasu: He had a huge chess.com phase, probably in middle school. But he was that one kid that goes ‘I wasn’t even trying tho lol’ when he lost (behind the screen he is SCREAMING in rage). ALSO He’s the type to be super expressive (kinda like Barou) 😭. You’ll know when he’s judging you cus’ his face will go 😬 😲 ☹️ 😧 🤔 in that order 💀. He could say something but his expressions reveal all there is.
Yukimiya: When he first got his glasses, he probably forgot them a lot LOL. Like he’d show up to football practice without them and one of his teammates would go “Yo where’s your glasses, Yukki?” and he’d be like…oh yeah. There was probably one point where he thought his eyesight was getting better. He woke up one morning and just decided that he suddenly felt like he had good vision again. It was all in his head 💀.
Otoya: He once tried hitting on a girl when her boyfriend WAS RIGHT THERE and he didn’t even notice. Let’s just say he ran for his life. His older sister has a video recording of it and uses it as blackmail. Worst of all he genuinely thought he could've ‘stolen’ her from him 😭 LIKE OTOYA NO. 😭
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hearts4kaulitz · 9 months
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2005 / YOUNGER BILL KAULITZ HCSbill
bill kaulitz x gn! reader
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you and him definitely go to see movies together no doubt
like you’ll be sitting in ur room at night and youd get a call from him asking if you could sneak out so yall could watch the newest movies (— sometimes he brings tom)
if you try and brush his hair he will like fall cause theres so much gel in it.
its really funny but takes FOREVER to get out.
if hes frustrated enough he’ll ask you to help him wash it out. (— in a sink weirdo)
y’all probably have karaoke nights like you two are singing ur hearts out to some song
tom and the rest of the band doesn’t appreciate it, you two have DEFINITELY gotten a noise complaint more than once.
he would also paint your nails alot
if you have a problem with biting your nails he’d try and keep you distracted by doing anything.
“ YN! YN! look what i made! ” and he’d show you the most basic drawing ever. he really wouldn’t even try on it but its the thought that counts
if you dont know german he would teach you some.
bill could sit there for HOURS just teaching you words and sentences.
he would be so proud of you
sometimes he just walks by you and says something like “guten morgen” just to see if you remembered and if you did he would pretend he didnt care but its so obvious hes all giddy cause he taught u something
if tom has a girl over or is like talking to one on the phone you two would pretend to be the girl and tom right infront of his face so he’d get flustered
yall would laugh your ASSES off if he started to stutter.
you two have sleepovers anytime you can. if hes not at your house, your at his. theres no in between and no going back
if he did like you he would definitely ask you to sleep over more often and ask you to watch movies with him. anything really
if you were to fall asleep first he would move next to you just so he could play with your hair or just hold you close
in the mornings he pretends like he has NO idea why yall are like that even though it was literally his idea.
also he does ur makeup alot.
like you would be laying on the couch with ur head turned in his direction with his hands cupping ur face so he can get better angles and whatever.
you can tell he just likes to hold your face though.
younger bill seemed like sucha cutie patootie im crying omg
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OMG I DISAPPEARED AGAIN.
im so sorry i’ll probably write a fanfic based on one of these hcs tho 😭😭
im so sorry ill try and be better at posting ive just been having HORRIBLE writers block
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iireneleee · 9 months
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MY FAVOURITE PLACEMENTS FOR EACH SIGN (with explanation of course 😚😚)
remember, don’t take this too seriously cause this whole thing is fully based on my own personal opinion so im sorry if I didn’t mention your placement(s). don’t be offended okay?! MUAH I love all of yall 💋
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Aries: I’d probably say 50% venus 25% moon 15% sun — honestly this is kinda hard for me cause my best best friend is an Aries moon and I get along very well with Aries moons however… this one girl that I broke off all contacts with cause she was obsessive ( she still hasn’t stop💔💔 even though we stopped talking for 2 years, super creepy) 50% venus because omg literally almost every single lovely person I know has that placement it’s mad. maybe it’s bc my venus conjuncts theirs (I’m also an aries venus) they express love in a way I adore so 💕💕 for aries sun, 25% because I’m only close with one aries sun but she’s literally so fly I love. but she says some weird stuff occasionally though she’s too unfiltered HAHAHA love that.
Taurus: definitely taurus moon 50% and taurus mercury 50% — taurus moons are literally the cutest people ever. idk why but all of y’all are like little hamsters in my eyes. taurus moons remind me so much of hamsters. many of you are probably leaders and I love being around you guys. super sweet and always there when I need y’all muah muah. people always stereotype you guys as lazy people but every single taurus moon I know are the most hardworking people ever. super admirable individuals 😚😚 those who have natal taurus mercury people are the funniest. y’all are like LOWKEY old souls. very good people to be in a group project with cause they always voice out the best opinions and ideas. they are also really relatable individuals they say things that many people would like relate to idk how to describe it, meme worthy i guess?? I love y’all so much. sometimes they ignore people when they say stupid stuff but whatever they’re literally one of the best people so they get a free pass.🤫🤫
Gemini: mmmm I’d say 50% gemini suns and 50% gemini risings. honestly, I haven’t met many gemini placements 😭 my sister is a gemini rising so i might be a little biased HAHAH sorry my bad my bad. i love gemini risings they always give me one of the best first impressions. i tend to get along really well with gemini risings and tend to gravitate towards them hehe. also for gemini suns, most are pretty cool. i realise that gemini suns tend to be really nice and grounded when you meet them but when you get closer to them they’re little devils IN A GOOD WAY hahah. all my interactions and memories with gemini suns are actually really good. they always promise a good time 🙏🙏
Cancer: CANCER VENUS🔥🔥 for sure cancer venus. omg i love them. they give really good hugs LOL. super sweet individuals. i love the way they express their love it’s so cute especially when you’re the recipient of the love literally so 😍😍. one of my friends have this placement and oml she gives such meaningful gifts. she is the reason why I have high expectations for gifts LOL. i really hope i get to befriend more cancer venuses 💔💔 they’re really thoughtful people who take initiative very very lovely 🫶
Leo: leo moons 🙏🙏 y’all are so chill. literally are the 😐 people ITS SO FUNNY . I love y’all so much I always have ‘beef’ with leo moons lol literally tom and jerry but it’s so fun. bickering (affectionately) I know I lot who don’t study but r really smart or at least all of y’all tell me you don’t study😐😐 I know a lot of you guys who r dancers too and omg really pro dancers srs srs. super fun people but they lowkey about it.
Virgo: definitely virgo sun + virgo venus I have so many virgo sun babes (aka friends) they’re so so sweet. im always having a fun carefree time when im with you guys. never a dull moment. you guys are like my babies srs srs you guys just gave me that youthful feel and it’s so refreshing omg🫂🫂. virgo venus people are so funny idek why they’re so underrated. they’re also very big mouth literally tell them something humiliating that happen to you and if it doesn’t sound like you’re very bothered by it trust people around you probably also know about it BUT it’s okay cause they cute, I can never get mad at them. also very playful people. 💋💋 i love talking to them but at the end of the convo omg we are like probably fighting / arguing (affectionately) LOL i don’t get many gifts from them honestly but they LOVE to give food. hehe 💋💋 to my virgo venus sweethearts
Libra: libra suns + libra moons so 50 - 50 hehe libra suns are really helpful people. they’re like honestly very libra idk why. they’re so so sweet, always there to listen to you ramble. my mama is a libra sun and omg she’s always listening to me ramble and rant ITS SO FUNNY. sometimes you guys are too nice to people that they tend to take advantage of your kindness so always be on the look out and know your worth 😚😚 . libra moons ARE SO FUNNY. i love you guys, y’all always make me lose my breath over your jokes. super random people who talk about out of pocket things but it’s so unique and fun with you guys that I can’t help but laugh everytime i see yalls face. also pretty smart people. you guys always do your best in things that you’re passionate about and it’s really admirable however, when y’all dgaf about stuff man all that quality work is gone LOL but it’s okay me too. best people to have around y’all remind me of those circus seals. 🔥🔥firee
Scorpio: scorpio venus — I really love scorpio venus individuals omg. they’re always there for you and always ready to attend all your big moments without fail. I had this one friend who has a scorpio venus and she take time out of her own busy schedule to train me for my interview and we stayed at the place until like the sunset it was so wholesome. not only did she do that but she was with me when I got my interview results like I was so shocked I thought she stayed cause she also had something to do afterwards but turns out she had nothing to do and she planned to wait for me and leave right after omg i literally melted. I treasure her so much and because of that I’ve always had a good impression of her. super sweet individuals. little cinnamon buns, warm and sweet. they also really are big on physical touch cliché I know but it’s real HAHA. everyone should have a scorpio venus friend or significant other 😭😭💋💋
Sagittarius: sagittarius moons — out of all my close friends in my click, half are sagittarius moons, it’s literally mad. they’re such unique individuals all of them have different personalities even though they have the same moon. but one thing they all have in common is that they find the weirdest stupidest unfunniest jokes funny. it’s mad. I can pull out a photo of a cat on the ground holding a fish and they’d be cracking up like mad. they all really enjoy being around positive and responsible people, people who are like them. they always burst out laughing idk y they try to hold their laugh but they never laugh normally. I love them though it’s always so comfortable around them MUAHHH💋💋
Capricorn: capricorn moons + capricorn mercury 50-50 — omg my baby capricorn moons, they’re so athletic, or maybe it’s just the capricorn moons I know but omg they’re so competitive when it comes to sport. they’re actually really reliable people even though they may seem quite playful and reckless. they tend to be good at math. love food. they also like to make handmade things for their friends and it’s really random. sometimes I come out of class one day and they just ask me if I want a cookie. LOL and one of my friends gave me a piece of paper that she doodled and drew on FOR ME it’s so cute and random but makes me physically like become the 🥺 emoji. love u guys. for capricorn mercuries y’all have the most underrated humour YALL ARE SO FUNNY LOL. you guys make the funniest jokes with the straightest faces like this face, 😐. MAKES ITS EVEN FUNNIER LOL. y’all tend to text a lot and are quite talkative actually. love you guys cause you guys never hesitate to make the conversation about the other party rather than yourself LOL JOKING ( but FR though you guys make me feel like the main character whenever I’m talking to u ) 🫂🫂
Aquarius: mmm i haven’t really befriended many who have aquarius placements so this may not be relatable😭😭 sorry!! but I’ll have to go with aquarius moons. — I tend to get attracted to aquarius moons cause they seem really fun. idk why but they all seem like a ball of sun to me. they remind me of fluffy cows HAHAH. they’re really cool individuals and they’re really kind. super sweet people who are always willing to help you and take initiative LOVE THEM💕💕. wish I get to know more aquarius moons, they’re just so loveable and reliable. 🫶🫶😚
Pisces: pisces moons 50% + pisces risings 25% + pisces mercury 25%💕💕💕 — OMG pisces moons BRUU literally my babes. I love them so much. they’re always there to help. they’re really responsible people even though they like to have fun. best people to have for group projects. they’re also really good at putting themselves in other peoples shoes hence making them very good at comforting others. very good friends that would do anything for you. they tend to radiate the same energy you give them so always give your best to them for you to receive the best💪💪 for pisces risings, I just really like they’re features. they all give like a reserved energy and many people would think that they’re really high achievers and admirable people with a cute face HEHE. they’re really sweet and awkward at first but once you get to know them omg it’s a huge difference they’re little devils LOLOLOL (in a good way🤫🤫) I tend to have many pisces rising friends maybe cause their rising is in my seventh house but 😚😚 whatever. they’re little choco pies, random ik but it just fits their whole persona . pisces mercuries are really chill people who like to talk. I love them so much cause like tend to relate to one another a lot and i just love to talk to them because they’re so easy to talk to. just pull out a random topic and they would prob be able to talk about it, very versatile speakers. also, they don’t really share their opinions at times. like sometimes i want to eat something with them but their whole face writes “no that looks disgusting” so I ask them if they’re sure that they’re fine with the restaurant and they say that they’re fine but they’re not really fine LOLOLOL they’re so cute HAHAH love them. they always put others before themselves.
made by: @iireneleee
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officallunar · 6 months
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Explosive Laughter in Fontaine
Summary: So we all have that one friend who have that funny laughter,and in this story it happens to be you. Ok— so like those “demonic” laughter of yours that probably just means funny laughters (I think). What I mean is that when you laugh Infront of Neuvillette and Wriothesley (Wrio-the-slay). Sometimes,they will find themselves chuckling along.
Characters: Neuvillette ,Wriothesley x reader
Warning: grammar/vocab mistakes
AUGHH THEY ARE SOO—
(A very short fanfic I wrote before studying,fanfic under the cut!)
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Neuvillette :
Now, let me tell you about Neuvillette, the Iudex of Fontaine and the Hydro Sovereign. He's all about rules and formality, so when he heard your "demonic" laughter, he was baffled at first.
With his striking white hair and those piercing blue eyes, Neuvillette finally cracked a smile. "It appears I may have underestimated the power of laughter," he admitted.
In the midst of Fontaine's intricacies,your "demonic" laughter became the soundtrack to your adventures. Neuvillette and you, an unlikely duo, embarked on a journey where laughter transcended the boundaries of rules and formality.Both of you created your own brand of comedy, proving that sometimes, even the most serious of figures can find joy in the most unexpected places.
(He is so cute I can’t)
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Wriothesley:
honestly, it's just the kind of laugh that makes even the most serious situations downright hilarious. Picture this: you found yourself in Fontaine, facing the imposing Fortress of Meropide. For god knows what reason. A fortress known for its stern Administrator, Wriothesley.
As you ventured deeper into the fortress,you found yourself Infront of him,for some questionable reasons,you started laughing though he was clad in his usual dark blue jacket, looking as stern as ever.
Wriothesley turned to you with a measured gaze. "What’s so funny,hm? Need a cup of tea to calm down?” (I don’t know him well so I’m so sorry)
You couldn't help but burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all.Your laughter, the kind that's more contagious than a yawn, soon had even Wriothesley chuckling.Y’all shared a moment of unexpected mirth amidst the seriousness of the fortress, proving that sometimes, laughter truly is the best way to break down the walls of formality.
(Some people just look at you who was laughing like crazy for no reason but we don’t need to care about that🧑‍🦲.Well atleast not now)
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NEUVILLETTE DIDN’T COME HOME 😭😭
By the way,this app is the only place I would post fanfic !
Sigh..I got hit by a ball during football and I feel like I lost half my braincells 😭Anyways goodbye, tartar 🦜!!To be honest,all my fanfics are gonna be fluff/angst because I would start cringing if I write smut. (I’m still a boomer in writing a fanfic and using what tumblr provides,how do yall make it so aesthetic)
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tragedyxremedy · 28 days
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For some reason, even after EVERYTHING I know about Viv know, all the criticisms I’ve made, making my disapproval for the execution of certain themes in her work abundantly clear and dissecting every single seemingly meager writing blunder that ultimately contributed to the major flaws of her characters/shows, there’s something that I absolutely cannot debate and that’s the truly astonishing reality that HH really had the potential to be something spectacular. The pilot garnered so much attention, support, and revere for a reason—it wasn’t just the dazzling animation that captivated a lot of the audience, it was the concepts/opportunities for creativity Viv was introducing by having Hell as her setting and redemption/moral complexity as the foundation for the story. What Viv set out to accomplish through her work was daring yet simultaneously very impressive—Like, I can only imagine how much of a sensation HH would’ve been outside of just the fandom if the handling of its themes was all around WAY more mature, nuanced, and sagacious
It genuinely SICKENS me to think about how a lot of Viv’s largest criticisms, at least regarding HH, could’ve been avoided altogether had Viv steered away from having the most cliche and predictable confrontation between the sinners and exorcists that lacked just about all the depth and intricacy that could’ve made it profound. It was great to have others in heaven acknowledge that the exterminations were wrongful (even though it apparently didn’t even matter since no conflict between Adam and these angels arose as a result, as far as we were shown) however I dont think I emphasized in my other longer critic post enough just how BAFFLING it was for Emily to call the sinners “innocent”. Innocent? INNOCENT???
God yall seriously dont know how badly I wish there was an elaboration to this rather than the statement being so broad and obviously extremely wrong too. Its already horrible that there legit are people in this world who downplay certain crimes and atrocities, and while I definitely understand the point Viv was trying to make here, it just ended up being grating. Not to mention, I’m already see a lot of downplaying with some of the sins in the show—not necessarily to dissolve them of blame and make the sins seem not as big of a deal as they LEGIT are, but more so to sweep what they did under the rug and highlight some of the smaller flaws/sins of their characters so their redemption arcs are more believable. Of course thats a notion anyone is free to disagree with, however I’ve personally seen this most with Angel Dust. Correct me if I’m wrong (which I dont believe I am) but wasn’t he literally a gangster when he was alive, who definitely killed people at some point?
Perhaps its too soon to say that Viv is outright gonna just subside that, I seriously dont think she’d pull something like that but I feel strongly that in the future, if the show does actually become more mature and realistic, that’s something that should be addressed. I really like to imagine that Angel Dust is in hell because of his life as a ruthless gangster, not because he’s gay, a drug addict, or a porn star—I don’t find the narrative of those kind of people going to hell funny, at all. In fact, I couldn’t disagree more and to me its just incredibly distasteful when in media they push that idea, even if just for a joke. Instead of putting so much emphasis on those things, why not establish the elephant in the room that he’s probably taken peoples lives or at least in some way hurt them and he needs to pay some recompense for that before redemption is even possible???
Also, getting sidetracked here, but how the hell is Adam going to call Angel out for debauchery when he is…well, him? I dunno if this was meant for like irony, the sanctimonious guy who loves to brag out the amount of sex he’s had while bashing someone else for also just being sexually active—whatever the case, the lack of self awareness just infuriates me SO MUCH. And then the fact that he’s so flagrant about the kind of person he is and the rest of the angels just what, dont give a shit for some reason??? It honestly just does not make sense in the slightest, why did Adam have to be so cartoonishly evil in the sense that he does nothing to hide his true intentions and ideals and is just flat out the “self-righteous asshole misogynist”? And why do the angels just coexist with his deplorable behavior??? Say I’m reading into it to deep, but is this supposed to be representative of how Christians either proceed to associate themselves with asshole Christians in a cult-like mob mentality fashion despite being perfectly aware of the horrible beliefs they perpetuate or is it showing how we can be bystanders to the suffering they cause others just because they’re in a position of authority and respect that we do not want to challenge?
If so, valid ass argument I’d have to give a round of applause for because it’s definitely true and I’ve seen it in my own church. Its always the older folks, although there is a demonstration of respect and equality towards women—for other situations not so much, especially with the LGBTQ+ people. They’ve said some horrible things and people among the congregation will just merrily agree despite how much they love to emphasize not to judge people or claim superiority above anyone. That judgemental mentality was something they tried to engrain in me almost subliminally, they legit reinforced the idea that these normal human beings are “confused” and “sinful” so often you start to believe them even though you yourself had zero qualms about how other people love and express themselves beforehand. Of course however I quickly discerned that line of thinking as obsolete and beyond disrespectful, understanding that it’s completely contradictory to what we should believe in and that God would not be proud of the discord we create by pushing those ideas. I genuinely dont have the slightest clue as to how imma do it but as I get older I plan to push back against those harmful teachings and do the best I, as a single person, can do to address and reverse the damage bigoted Christians have caused, especially through my work
But now that I’m done rambling on that, gettin back to the subject at hand, above EVERYTHING I’m just extremely displeased that there so far hasn’t been much duality within heaven and hell and the little duality we do have is just subpar. Other things I wanna quickly touch on is that Charlie had such an unbelievably surface level realization about how her goals entail a lot more difficulty than she anticipated, and overall her approach to handling sinners just seems so childish. Seriously now, I need an approximate age for this girl—I reckon she’s quite young, in demon years, given her naive and ridiculously optimistic nature, but In all the hundreds or thousands of years she’s been alive surely she has a general understanding of the kind of people she’s dealing with, like she just cant seriously be so oblivious of the chaos raging around her to think that meager trust and bonding exercises will be enough to get them to heaven, right? And also, someone, I beg you, please, explain to me what trust and bonding exercises even have to do with REDEMPTION?? The hotel isn’t some freaking rehabilitation center for troubled teens or cynical down on their luck adults who need to learn how to cherish life again, they’re sinners trying to redeem themselves. Sure, you can trust and bond with people around the clock, but does that just erase the problematic things you have done in the past or magically make you a better person? Especially depending on the kind of people you’re trusting and bonding with, but im getting ahead of myself.
I’ve said this before and imma say it again and a million times more, I’m HOPING to God Viv actually has Charlie confront the reality that certain people CANNOT be saved. Not because they dont deserve it (for the most part), but because they’re the absolute scums of the earth who’d instantly put their depraved desires and the anarchy of hell above a free ticket to heaven even if it was dangling in their face. That’s just the tapestry of humanity for you, a good margin of it is relatively grey—a little blotchy and mottled in more parts than others but nothing to really frown at per say—and then there are sections of just unsightly icky black stains that can never been cleansed or rinsed away. Those stains will remain, hence why its so pertinent we continue to address the existence of these horrible events and people
I’m really looking forward to the rewrites people are gonna be pumping out like mad if the second season and any seasons after prove to be worse than the first. I trust you’ll all have some very interesting interpretations and reworks of Viv’s ideas with a far more mature and realistic approach as well
For now, these were just some things I really wanted to talk about as a continuation of my last longer critic post. I keep saying I wont be back for a while I know but every time I make a post I SOMEHOW miss a point I wanted to include, and it completely clogs my conscious until I finally address it. Hopefully though, this’ll actually be the last time I make a post for a while
Toodles y’all 👋
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holy-puckslibrary · 2 months
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━ 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠.
main masterlist
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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!
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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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All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.
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ranposgirlboss · 1 year
Text
~late night car drives with bsd charas~
this is an idea i got while listening to depressing vocaliod songs, SO HERE WE ARE!!! these are just some hc i have about how it would go, some charas are COMPLETELY platonic!! (this is mostly platonic in the 1st place tbh) this is my first time writing on this app, and i haven't written anything online in a few years, so if the formatting is weird, PLEASE TELL ME IDK WHAT IM DOIMNHG
chara list: dazai, chuuya, poe, ranpo, and yosano
GENRE: fluff fluff fluff and sillies
enjoy!!
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DAZAI
-HESSS DEEEEEFFF THE TYPE TO BRING YOU ON LATE-NIGHT DRIVES!!!!!
-he would probably be going to some weird ass convenience store with you at ungodly hours in the morning 💀
-HE EITHER SINGS THE MOST DEPRESSING SONGS OR THE MOST UPBEAT SILLY SONGS THERE IS LITERALLY NO IN BETWEEN
-i feel like he would mess with you and fucking drift the car when yall turn
-lets just say you get close to dying more then once 😁
-one time when yall tried to sneak out, kunikida caught yalls asses (your ears still hurt to this day from the mouthing off you got from kunikida)
-all in all, VERY FUN TO GO OUT WITH!!! WOULD RECOMMEND IF YOU WANT CHAOS!!!! OR IF YOU LIKE ALMOST DYING 10 TIMES IN 30 MINS <3333
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CHUUYA
-ok so i know i said late night CAR rides BUT CMON WHO DOESNT WANNA RIDE A COOL ASS MOTORCYCLE WITH CHUUYA!??!?!?/1
-mf has HORRIBLE ROAD RAGE!!!
-i hc that when chuuya gets really pissed and the person is super rude to him, he fucking makes their car float...LIKE FULL ON 😭
-AND THEN HELL MAKE THEM SAY SORRY
-but other then his road rage, its honestly pretty chill
-i know that he has a BANGER playlist, I JUST KNOW IT
-i fell like he'd also play around on the motorcycle a bit, BUT AT LEAST HE WOULDNT NEARLY KILL YOU UNLIKE DAZAI (눈‸눈)
-id say its pretty nice and balanced, with enough calmness to make it enjoyable for the most part, but enough thrill to keep asking him to take you out <33
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RANPO
-just gonna let you know right off the bat, his ass is NOT driving 😂
-there is a high chance that he JUST woke up and started banging on your door because he had cravings and well, he ran out of his snacks...so OBVIOUSLY he had to bang on your door, its important!!!
-and even if he was completely awake...he would get yall lost so fast
-so you were driving him
-honestly? its kinda funny to see groggy ranpo walk around and try to grab what snack he wants at the convenience store when he's barely awake
-bro literally drops the bag like 5 times (you picked it up all 5 bc you kinda pitied him rn 😭)
-he basically ends up sleep walking his ass outta there
-the ride is mostly quiet, mainly because ranpo falls asleep on the way back
-imagine if you played heavy metal and woke him up
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POE
-HE WOULD DRIVE WITH YOU FREQUENTLY, DUE TO HIM BEING A NIGHT OWL
-these car rides would be so peaceful
-ngl he would probably sometimes take you out just to drive with you (its not like gas is a problem for him anyways 😭)
-HE HAS SUCH A GOOD PLAYLIST OF SONGS TO JUST SIT THERE AND DAYDREAM TO
-doesnt seem like a talker tbh, he might ask you if you want to go anywhere specific, but you guys mostly just listen to music together (he saves the story telling for another time <3)
-I FEEL LIKE HE WOULD MAKE A PLAYLIST THAT LIKE KIND OF HAS A STORY LINE SO IT WOULD BE SO FUN TO DAYDREAM TO THE SONGS CUZ YOU COULD CREATE YOUR OWN STORY TO THEM
-you hold karl in your lap and pet him like you're an evil villain (cannon)
-very calming and relaxing drive <33
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YOSANO
-UGH IM SO GAY FOR HER
-ngl she kinda gives dazai vibes, in terms of playlist
-there has been more than one occasion when she just drunk-drove you
-LUCKILY YALL DONT DIE??!?!?!??! HOLY FUCK
-shes a small talker, OR A GOSSIPER WHILE YALL DRIVE
-yall just have so much fun talking about the ada and everything that's going on there <333
-would scream the lyrics to any 2010's throwback song, while having a (hopefully) safe dance party
-very fun to be around, and even though she drunk drives, shes def safer then dazai
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THANK YOU FOR READING THIS!!!! (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*.✧
PLEASE SEND ME REQS I BEG OF YOU
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the-s1lly-corner · 4 months
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Heyy me again so about the creepypasta thing, I just wondered if you can do Ben drowned with a gen z reader platonically? It's okay if your uncomfortable doing it ><
Ben drowned x gen z!reader (platonic!)
not uncomfortable at all! love that im getting ben drowned requests since i enjoy him a lot and kind of want to write for him more; just strictly platonic ..which reminds me, i need to draw him again soon! gonna answer this then take a break and get back to requests yipe!
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admin is still sold on the idea of ben being confined to electronics most of the time so i can easily see him gaining access to your devices so he can pester you whenever he wants; though this may get a little annoying since youre... well still alive! you have a life
whether or not the reader is a creepypasta themselves or is a normal person is up to you! i think both can work, though i must say the idea of the reader being just some random person is really funny. like can you imagine? you get some haunted virus but the ghost is chill an you guys become friends
i do think ben can only mess with devices, i dont think he can mess with like. any internet browser stuff.... which segways me to my next idea; the og creepypasta came out in 2010, majoras mask came out in 2000, so putting it in the middle lets say ben died in 2005.. bro has missed a lot. youre going to have to fill him in on a lot of stuff, and boy let me tell you hes going to be going nuts
tell him about the new legend of zelda games. i think he would be hyped. throwing admins hc of ben being sick and tired of LOZ due to being trapped in the game out the window, admin needs this boy to get joyous!
he probably pesters you and asks you about the dumbest shit, does it on purpose because he thinks its funny
sometimes you guys play video games together, bro is absolutely astounded by how far games have come since he passed away. i think he would go insane over five nights at freddys. fill him in on the lore
going back on the video game stuff and playing together, just know that hes going to break the game and cheat + hes a sore loser, soooooooo...
do you think sometimes he comes and tries to spend time with you more and more over time because hes been stuck for years and hasnt really had many people to talk to? like yeah hes an angry spirit, but even angry spirits deserve friends!!!
ponders
probably messes with you by messing with your recordings if youre trying to make a video/tiktok/reel/what have you
probably interjects his own texts into your posts, never really says anything harmful, just messes with spelling or adds dumb messages
honestly its not your SM account/blog, its yalls shared account/blog now/j
stuck with old 2000s humor but i think he would absolutely love present day humor and how unhinged its gotten, though quick warning hes going to start quoting stuff
definitely quotes the sticking out your gyatt thing, hes going to drive you insane with it and hes going to laugh at you
do not play roblox tycoons with him hes going to bully small children
you guys play a horror game together on roblox and you can hear him freaking out through the speakers (likely using an old device for him so youre not fighting for control over one device)
absolutely DEVASTED when you tell him club penguin shut down
just know hes punching the metaphorical wall
on the rare chance ben is able to pull himself into the real world for a brief period of time, you guys probably do the same stuff hes just physically there for a short time!
make him touch grass while hes out, bro hasnt touched grass in nearly 20 years. this isnt even a haha "hes chronically online" joke, he hasnt actually touched grass in years due to circumstances
closing this with a hit of angst that made me go :( but imagine that it starts out as you guys being around the same age (well... close enough, since ben doesnt age anymore due to being a ghost) but overtime, you obviously grow up and have less and less time for him and :(
like owie
"what happened to us? we used to be best friends?" audio but its you two SOBS AND CRIES
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