#for shame kenzie for shame

[fvntasmic]

There was a sense of worship as madison adjusted her body, lifting her hips onto a pillow and ensuring she was comfortable. she assumed a lot from madison; she thought he'd just throw her onto the bed, but he didn't. She believed he would've dived in by now, but he hasn't—instead, he's careful with her. madison was taking his time, and with that, her mind wandered for a second, remembering the first time she noticed madison. they were younger than they were now, in school still, but older than when they first met. she didn't pay much attention to him, other than he was her best friend's brother, but she remembers the spike of jealousy when he started gaining attention outside of being morgan's brother. how girls used to fawn and fall over for his attention and how it used to boil her blood. she didn't know how to deal with those feelings then, just like she didn't know now, and just like before, she fought with him to distract herself. madeline's brought back to the present with the feeling of her panties being pulled from her body, dark eyes focusing on the sight of pearly whites pulling the band down her skin. it's a sight between her legs; madison's long, wild curls and dark green eyes watching her every reaction. a chill creeps down her spine. her body jumps next, the minute his finger pushes through her folds and inside of her. it mirrored his movement when her back was pressed against the door, but there was no barrier between them this time. her gasp is muffled by the t-shirt, but she knows he hears it either way. a second finger enters her body, and they move simultaneously, causing manicured fingers to grip the bedsheets beneath them, knuckles turning white. the devious bastard continued to move inside her whilst letting his other finger circle her clit. she's not sure what overwhelms her more, the feeling of his fingers or his mouth pressing against the crease inside of her thigh. he mocks her, and if she had any sense, she'd yell at him — but instead, she squirms, feeling herself drip onto his fingers.

while she was muffled by his shirt that was shoved carelessly into her mouth, it was only to keep them from being barged in on by his brother. in hopes that it would keep them from being caught. madison wasted no more time than they already had, helping her to get comfortable for him to worship her body and all that she had to offer to him. her lower half is rested on a pillow for comfort, madison was prepared to savor the meal in front of him. his teeth take the hem of her panties between them, slipping them down her thighs, and dark green eyes don't leave her face - taking in her reaction to finally being exposed in front of him after all these years. his finger slips between her folds, mimicking the way that he felt her before when she was against his door. what was once one finger turns into two, that has a synced rhythm, brushing in a circle around her clit. while his fingers continued their exploration of her delicacy, his head shifted to her thigh. lips press against the skin near the crease of her leg, where they bring skin into his mouth. now, he had no concerns about what marks he left unlike before. he then lets one finger disappear into her heat - the other still circling her clit in rhythm with the way his finger was slipping in and out of her wetness. he spoke between the crease of her thigh, "taste so good for me, madeline. what a good girl." he mocks her, even in their intimacy.

[caramelloss]

"you are my witch"

lilia calderu x reader • pure smut • 3.2k w/c

summary: you've been friends with lilia calderu for years. drunken from the poison of wine, you confess your love for the woman. although reluctant to admit her feelings, because she harbors a secret you don't know, you learn that lilia feels the same way. years of yearning come to an end, and you find yourself falling into your desires, unable to control what has been kept away for so long.

taglist: @setsuna1415 @honeypiperpizza123 @valarmorghuli @allseingeye @im-a-carnivorous-plant @worstendingever @ramblininsomnia @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsines @onlyv4use @kenzie-floops @screamsin-gay @numenamortenia @valkyrierain @babythere @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @astrophilliaxx @giona45-5 @evilregal2002 @crescendoofstars @yourbasicqueerie @primalnight @darkangelchronicles @sapphic-girlss @thegoddamnfeels @doctormaviatorres @i-hate-most-insects @brisgayshit97 @iheartmilfzzsposts @redrouge7e7as @novavala @finnza @wandringlightsaber @romanoffsho @kingpreciouswrld @emilyprentitss @elobv10 @wandasreallover @kaypastore38 @thegayassbit-ch @marinalunaestrella @gryffindor-forlife @lorrainemylove @anais-casablanca @girlwithissuesworld @ofgoldandbraid @justgaygirlthings @beachhausu @deathly777 @confuseuniverse @eepyvampy @whyilovewomen @r-3-becca @roksana6448 @bugcolector @etw12 @heartsfromelle @zyguard118 @thelesbianapollokid4 @opossum-in-disguise @snoopyaah @amberwhale @marisacoulterswife @ionlylikefictionalpeople @derry-n @evie-101 @ganyulover123

author's note: so first i'd like to just THANK all of you for blowing up my post asking for who'd like to be tagged, because the taglist isn't even done, i can't fit them all in the blog. also, i tagged you if you liked or reblogged the tag ask post, because i bolded i would tag those who liked or reblogged. second; i'm sorry this isn't a longer fic. it was originally planned to be, but i don't want to use my idea i came up with in a one chapter fic, i'd like it to be used in a longer more meaningful one. i really hope you enjoy this. if you have any positive, negative, or general feedback, please let me know! i want to become the best author i can be for you guys. also, i'd love to receive any asks for fanfiction or one shots! i'm currently focused on my big multi character x reader fic, but im 100% open to and willing to write for your requests.

content includes: fingering, oral stimulation, biting, praise, hair pulling, pet name usage

you noticed the difference in her eyes like it was bolded in bright red ink. her smile fell, like an angel to descend from heaven. 'this is it' you thought, 'she’ll hate me.' you turned away in shame, your heart dropped. words flooded out, stupid, careless words. "i love you, lilia." 

you couldn't bear to look, you feared the disagreement would show on her face. your body tenses, and you scrunch the bridge of your nose with your fingers. you expect her to tell you to get out, or leave.. but you hear nothing. 

but you feel, oh, you feel. 

you feel her behind you, closer than when you had muttered those stupid, damning words. her fingers gently traced your neck, and you closed your eyes, the yearning in your soul up to its brink of expression. each breath you take is shaky, is heavy. you tilt your head aside, desperate to feel her warmth on your skin forever. 

you open your eyes when you feel her breath on your neck. she must've noticed your body's reaction, because she paused, and remained still. lilia traces her fingers down your body, to your hips. she stops here, her lips close to your ears, as her body presses into your back. 

you lean into her, your head slightly leaning back, at the pure and utter pleasure you feel being so close to her. her lips part, and with such composure, yet so little solidity, she delivers a line that would come to send shivers down your spine. "i have loved you since i saw you the first time, long ago. i am consumed and rattled by you at every waking second.." her hands pull you in, and you hum at the gesture. your eyes are closed, not because you hate this, or don't want to be there, but because the way you long for her in this moment now is too painful for you to bear. a lump forms in your throat when you feel her wet cheek graze your neck. she was in tears, and you needed to console her; but how? how should you console her now? you did not have much time to think. her lips, warm, soft, and gentle, were on your neck. the kiss she blessed your skin with felt like one that existed prior to the world, and forever past the present. it was torture, it was devastation, when she pulled away. it hurt, it was brutal.. so brutal, your lips parted, and you gasped quietly. your hand reached back for her head, and you enveloped your fingers in the curly, silver locks of her hair. you held her head close to yours, as her thumbs rubbed gently upon your hips. her voice broke as she completed her confession, and your heart broke with it; you'd do anything to protect her, to keep her from harm. "i'm a witch, y/n.. how could you ever love a witch?" 

your eyes opened, and you stopped breathing, for just a moment. you were sure you'd heard wrong. with a furrowed brow, and a worrisome expression, you broke away from her touch, from her hold. you turned to her, and your head tilted to the side, as tears began to form in your waterline. the sight of her, so weak, so doubtful of herself, so ashamed.. your heart shattered like a broken mirror. 

her face was lined with streaks of wet. she had cried for this, she suffered for it. she couldn't even look at you, her eyes were avert. 

your hands raced to cup her cheeks, and you gently wipe away her tears. her lips part, in astonishment, followed by her eyes meeting your gaze. finally, you saw those beautiful eyes again. your heart skipped a thousand beats at the sight of those irises. you smile, and your face softens. "lilia.." you whisper, your forehead pressed against hers now, "i've loved you since the sun rose opposite the moon. i've chased you in all of my wildest dreams. i've loved you in every moment and i would not stop because of what you are or are not." at your notation, her lips fold into a smile. she grabs your wrists softly, holding them. once more you spoke, "you are my witch, my little piece of divinity. you are mine, and my heart is yours." you watch as her eyes move from your eyes to your lips, and you wish for nothing but her to kiss you. 

after all these years, of being her "friend", you have never wanted anything more than for her to kiss you. it's like an insatiable hunger you cannot destroy. 

lilia bites her lip, and she grabs your chin with her pointer finger and her thumb. you start to breath heavy, and your heart begins to race. she brings your face to hers, so close that your lips graze against one another’s. you ache for her, you long for her. you need to taste her, to merge your body, your soul, your heart, with hers. you need her to kiss you. 

and she does. her lips mesh with yours in perfect harmony, like the melody of heaven’s sea. your mind is adrift, clouded. you cannot form a thought, you do not desire to form a thought. her unaccompanied hand caresses the small of your back, and you pull her closer with the hands you hold on her face. 

she slips her tongue along your bottom lip, and you moan softly into the kiss. her grip on your chin releases, and she holds your jaw instead. she guides you through the long, heart-felt kisses. her lips control your body, your mind. 

warmth builds between your thighs, and your head is still covered by nothing but a blanket of emptiness. lilia is the first to pull away, her lack of oxygen in her lungs being the culprit. you curse the living necessity of air. 

you yourself breathe heavy, panting almost. lilia’s lipstick is smudged, and you smirk at the notion that you've just kissed this marvel of a woman. she notices your cocky smile, and a single eyebrow lifts. she now wore a smirk herself. 

“you're looking at me like you've just seen me naked, y/n.” you chuckle when she says this. “while i wouldn't be opposed to that, i'm just a little satisfied with the fact that in the midst of kissing me, you forgot about your lipstick.”  

her smirk faded and her lips parted again, she pop looked offended, but you could tell it was just her beautiful sense of sarcasm. 

“fix it for me?” she asked this with a lower tone and a wink, and you felt your core throb at the sound of her voice. she wanted you to kiss her again. 

you ran your tongue across your bottom lip, and you couldn't help your smile. her hands guided your face close, and you pushed a curl behind her ear. she grew desperate, unable to wait. her lips caught yours, and you shut your eyes at the contact. in your head you pictured her eyes, beautiful and brown, like the rock embedded and shaded on the side of a mountain. your grip on her hair tightened as she pushed you back softly, making sure not to break the kiss. her lips were soft, so soft it felt like the comfort a pillow brings in the hour of sleep. you moan as your lower back makes contact with her counter, and your head leans back, which breaks the embrace. 

the wetness between your thighs grows, and you figure your underwear must be utterly ruined. lilia's fingers stroked your hair, and she shook her head slightly, a whisper following shortly. "let me taste you.. every inch of you.." you bite your lip, and hold her gaze, nodding hesitantly; even though you don't feel hesitant on your answer at all. her smirk returns, and her hands descend, down from your hair to your neck. she drags them further down, past your shoulders. she stops at where the unbuttoned cardigan opens, pushing the material off of your arms and body. her warmth intoxicates you when her skin brushes against yours. she plants hot kisses on your upper arms, which are exposed because of the camisole top you wore. 

her hands found the straps to your shirt, and she pulled them down slowly, kissing the empty place they used to cover. you tense, and your eyes shut as your lips purse together while you try to conceal the soft hum of pleasure you make.

lilia's fingers pull away the top, leaving you completely naked and exposed from your waist up. she smiles at the sight, her hands cupping your breasts. you feel the slick between your legs, it seems the inner part of your thighs had gotten soaked by extension.

her thumbs grazed over your nipples, and the sensation was enough to drive you wild. you pulled her head into the curve of your neck, your lips parted as soft moans escaped. she chuckles and her lips start to kiss your neck. 

your knees go weak, simply from the ecstasy her lips brings you. her thumbs lose the feel of your sensitive buds, and she begins to creep down your throat. she leaves sloppy kisses down your collarbone, and down to your nipples. her eyes close as she takes one into her mouth, suckling on the sweet spot. your eyes fall back, and you inhale, biting down onto your lip to stop yourself from being loud. her fingers play with your lone nipple, and you feel as though you will not be able to take much more of this before becoming pathetic for her. 

the witch releases your areola from her mouth and takes in the other, her tongue lapping around the bundle of nerves. her hands trace the curves of your body. they pause when she's reached your hips, and she digs her nails into your skin. the pain blends with the pleasure beautifully, and it's as if they are interchangeable. 

you breathe heavily, your stomach twitching when she starts to drag her lips down your stomach. your pussy was so wet that she could smell the scent of arousal from your waistline. her fingers pulled up the black skirt you wore, and it revealed your soaked nude panties. she chuckled, looking up at you with eyes that were darkened and overwhelmed with lust. she bit her lip and furrowed her brow, which made you roll your eyes. 

“you're so wet, darling. i could just devour you.” you gently pull her hair, forcing her head back a little. she smirks, and you pout. “please, i need you” you say, pleading for her tongue, for her fingers, for her to be the one to shape you into a mess of a woman. 

she winks, bringing her mouth to your inner thigh. she leaves kisses along your skin, and it seems as though she’s teasing you. her eyes stay locked onto yours with each touch of her lips, she wants to see your face as she tortures you.

your hands release her hair, and grab onto the counter behind you, your nails scratch the surface with each new touch. her eyes look so dark, and it turns you on even more. 

but your view of them is gone as she bites into your other thigh. her teeth are sharp, and your jaw drops, you whimper. her teeth release, and she kisses the bite mark. you open your eyes to see it, to see the mark she had left. it was dark red, and your expression changed, you felt your core throb uncontrollably, and you grabbed her head by her hair, guiding her to your cunt. your eyes pleaded with her. 

lilia opened her mouth and licked the wet slick on your panties, all while looking you dead in the eyes. the touch was faint, but it was all your body needed to jerk up. it was so cruel, the way she left you needy and desperate for her. you couldn't think beyond her tongue on your clit, or her fingers buried in your warm folds. 

she bit the material of your under garment, pulling it slowly down your legs. her eyes were stolen away by the sight of you completely naked and in front of her, soaked, ruined. you were such a slut for her. you wonder if she would tease you about how soiled you got for her later down the line. 

the witch sighed, and her lips kissed the very inside of your thighs, right beside where you writhed for her. you thought you might faint. 

using your hand, you rubbed her cheek, shaking your head at the sight of her, down on her knees, ready to please you.  

she turned her face, kissing your gentle fingers. you smiled, and you took a deep breath as she brought her face as close as possible to your core. her eyes were focused on your face, you could tell she wanted to watch your face as she ate you out. so typical of her. 

her face buried between your legs, her tongue circling your clit. your hands shot behind you to the counter once more, desperate to hold yourself up. your eyes closed, and your back arched. the moan that echoed through the room was inevitable. she took her time, finding the nerves that were more sensitive and paying more attention to them. you thought she must've found you stupid to be so wet and needy for her. 

her tongue sped up, and she took your clit into her mouth, suckling the bud. you couldn't control the way your hips bucked, or the way your knees fell wobbly and weak. her hands grabbed your hips to stabilize her, and she pulled her mouth away in a flash. 

you were worrisome, you thought maybe you'd messed up, or maybe she'd realized she didn't want you like this. it was almost heartbreaking to feel her pull away. 

she had never stopped looking at you, though. you of course couldn't tell because your eyes had closed before out of the extremity of what you were feeling. 

she looked serious, determined, but her eyes were still as dark as before. you blush at the sight of her face covered in your taste, your slick. her mouth opened, and you heard every word with such a heavy impact. “do not close your eyes again. i want to see your eyes, your face, at every moment. do you understand?”

your heart starts to race again, there was just something so inexplicable about the way her words made you feel. you nod your head, scared that if you spoke your words would be jumbled. she didn't accept it though, her voice changed, from demanding to mischievous. “you understand..? what do you understand, dear? how does it make you feel..? tell me how i make you feel.” 

you bite your lip, looking up at the ceiling. maybe you were throwing up a prayer that you wouldn't mess up, or maybe you were just trying to prepare yourself for what she wanted from you. her right hand slipped from your hip, and you didn't notice, so fixated on her request. you went to start speaking, but as you did, you felt her fingers inside of you. 

your head leaned back, and you closed your eyes. a hushed “fuck!”, was followed by a loud humming. she smirked, “what did i say about closing your eyes, baby?” 

you forced them open, forced them to lock their gaze down onto her own. you wanted to make her happy. you needed to please her just as badly as you needed her to make you cum. 

“i'm sorry, darling—” as you began again, her fingers started to pump inside of your pussy, and your mouth lay agape. she didn't stop, even as you took a moment to continue, and you took a deep breath. 

“you want me to look— oh, fuck.. god.” it was like she went faster with each word you spoke. you took note of her devilish grin, thinking that you'd someday get your revenge. “you want me to look at you, you want to see me when— shit!” your body flinches as she curls her digits inside you, her speed still gradually increasing. “come on, princess, you're doing so good” she whispered this against your clit, right before sucking it into her mouth again. 

you bit your lip and your hands pulled her by the hair, just giving you something to hold onto. “when i cum for you, when i'm just a puddle for you.. you want to see me when i take your fingers!” 

the words came out shaky, spaced between your moans and whimpers. her fingers started to go as fast as they could, and lilia lapped her tongue around your wet clit, stimulating every single part of your cunt. she was still looking at you. you held her gaze as you started to tremble, your body shaking as it came to the brink of an orgasm. 

you finished your thought, giving her what she asked of you. “it makes me feel like abandoning everything for you, to have you like this, every second, every moment.”

her eyes closed, and you watched her remain between your thighs. your body hit a climax, and your hips bucked up, your back arching. you yelled for her, her name. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your lip to muffle any further sounds as she fucked you through your orgasm. 

when you had came, your white fluid casing over her fingers, she pulled her mouth away from your clitoris. 

you, with your head still fuzzy, had managed to pull her back up to you by her hair. her lips were so wet because of you. you immediately pull her in to kiss you, tasting yourself on her tongue and lips. she pulled away, breaking the contact. her teeth captured your bottom lip and you sighed when she pulled it back. 

lilia’s lips started kissing your neck, and she brought them to your ear, whispering hushedly, “clean your pretty little mess, my love.” 

you whimper, and you open your lips, as she slips her two cum-covered fingers inside of your mouth. you suck off your fluid, and the growing wetness between your legs returns.

the older witch laughs, kissing your neck again. her lips find yours once more, and she kisses you like there is no other action in this world. her tongue invades your mouth, as she tastes the sweetness that remains. 

[johnbrand]

Quincy

Since we first became roommates, Quincy's transformation over the years had been quite spectacular. When we had first started college and been randomly assigned together, I had not thought anything of him. Quincy was not special, just a lanky ginger from the next state over. But I soon came face to face with the tale-as-old-as-time book cover expression, as his first impressions have meant little over the years we have spent together. Now in our mid-twenties, it was fair to say that the only part of Quincy that was still that lanky freshman I met was the bright red hair.

Quincy had come in as a socially-awkward bookworm, an accounting major who aspired to join his father’s practice after graduation. He was smart, soft spoken, and lean, which I soon learned was because he had been a decent swimmer in high school. But over every winter and summer break, Quincy came back to campus looking just a little bit different, and eventually acting a bit different too.

It started that second semester of freshman year, when I entered the dorm after a rough baseball practice. The team had been forced to stay nearby over the holidays, so I had not seen Quincy in almost a month. When I walked through the door all sweaty and gross, I had not expected for Quincy to be there.

“Quincy?” I smiled, being friendly. “You’re back already?”

“Yeah, I uh…had a project to finish with Sam, you know the basketball player from down the hall?” Quincy replied, shifting awkwardly a bit. It was strange, but it almost appeared like he had grown an inch in our time apart, but his fidgeting prevented me from truly discerning this difference. “You can ask him, if you don’t believe me...”

Sensing the nervousness, I put one of my best traits to work. “Nah bro, I was just surprised. Glad to see you back though.” It was a strong suit of mine, controlling the room without appearing like it. I was confident and casual, something that made others like and respect me. “I’m gonna be leaving in a bit though, I got a date with Kenzie tonight. We’ll have to catch up later.”

In the hallway on my way out, Sam caught me to say hello. I had not recognized him at first, the coppery color of his hair a stark difference from his once raven black. I assumed it had been a bad dye job as a result of initiation hazing from his teammates. Our conversation was quick, but long enough for me to notice that our eye levels met. I could have sworn he was taller than me.

The second semester flew and by the time we considered sophomore year, Quincy and I agreed to room with each other. The next time I saw him, it appeared he had taken an interest in weightlifting. I applauded him for his efforts, asking how he had packed a good amount of muscle in a short time. He said that Vance, one of my baseball teammates, had been at the same gym as him and the two became fast buddies. I felt bad breaking the unfortunate news that Vance was no longer on the team, stating that he was taking a break for “strength conditioning.”  I had not seen him since he tendered his resignation, his fiery hair drawing my attention more than his prepared remarks. Quincy appeared unaffected by my announcement.

Winter break, another summer break, junior year, and senior year all flew by, and Quincy continued to grow. Somehow, he became jacked, like really jacked. He gained bulging biceps and triceps that had taken me twice as long to develop, quads and calves that put mine to shame. He also got more attractive, something that I hated to admit. His abs, which had popped up out of nowhere, had become the talk of the campus, and by our last semester, his face had appeared to be carved by Greek gods. more visible than ever. He had practically become a sensation overnight: not too big and intimidating, but not to shrimpy and unnoticeable. Yet at heart, Quincy was still the same accounting nerd, and I was actually happy for him, until he started stealing my hookups. 

In all honesty, I was probably just jealous of his incredible growth. And the fact that he constantly had girls and guys (to my surprise, but I had no problem with it) working his monster-sized cock–the size assumed by the noises from his room. But I kept my cool, and when he asked if I would consider continuing our living situation, I obliged. More time passed, and I watched him become quite the alpha male. At a certain point, it felt like everyone in the city knew Quincy. And strangely unrelated, at a certain point, it felt like everyone who Quincy brought home was a redhead too, or at least the ones I saw leaving the next morning. 

“God, he is such a pathetic dick,” Quincy groaned, changing into a more casual fit after having come home from a rough day at work. I was perched on the side of his bed, my muscles still sore from the two hours I had just blown at the gym.

“It wasn’t Marco again, was it?” I asked casually, referencing the twink who had recently been avoiding Quincy’s advances.

“I just don’t get it, what else could he want from me?” Quincy flaunted his body. “Everybody wanted me; I’ve got everything he could want!”

“Bro, he probably knows that you're hot,” I remarked. “If I were you, and Marco was like Marcie or something, I’d just be cool about it, and after a bit act like you're indifferent. Make him miss the attention, and soon he’ll rush out and profess his feelings or whatever. If you hold a stronger resolution, rather than flaunting it, he will do all the work and come to you.”

Quincy considered this for a moment, but then another idea appeared to flick through his head. “Yeah…but, it could also just be easier to…”

In a flash, he grabbed my head and I dazed out in front of him. It felt like something was being absorbed out of me, but I assumed my energy had just been spent. After about a minute, I came back to full consciousness. I realized I had fallen back into Quincy's bed during my dizzy spell. 

“Thanks for sharing, man,” Quincy sneered, crawling forward on top of me. “You were right about that whole resolution thing. I feel like I can stay assertive and collected enough to lure Marco in now.”

I tried to question what Quincy had meant by that. Why would such a cool, confident guy like Quincy ever want to take advice on how to be nonchalant from me? After all, I had always been quite the nervous wreck; in fact Quincy had been the one who had helped me get rid of my stutter freshman year. But before I could consider the thought further, Quincy’s hands pulled my jeans down, and then my legs up and over my head. Unable to voice a word or protest, I let him.

“Why don’t you show me how Marco will react after I lure him in?” Quincy smirked. I gulped weakly, his strong resolution overwhelming and obliterating my own.

“Yes, that’s it,” Quincy grinded his hard member against my bottom. “I should’ve done this a long time ago, I always knew you’d look better as a ginger.”

[ewingstan]

What's the shylock dilemma you referred to in your last post?

That's not a standard term or anything, its just what I use to describe characters who I find interesting, but who are also horrible stereotypes, and whose interesting qualities cannot be isolated from what makes them a harmful stereotype. Shylock from The Merchant of Venice is a prototypical example of this, a character who's interesting because of his justified rage towards the bigoted society around him and towards the antisemitic protagonists in particular, but who only exhibits this in the course of his broader characterization as a greedy and bloodthirsty usurer.

Another example of the same phenomenon would be Tuco Ramírez from "The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly," whose characterization as a humorous buffoon, entertainingly sly trickster, and tragic figure are ultimately just extensions of the way he serves as a horrendous brownface caricature of Mexicans. He's only legible as part of a Western imaginary that sees Mexicans as brutes and rapists: savage, disreputable, and "ugly" by nature.

Wildbow has written several queer characters that fit into this mold, in ways the fandom comments on frequently: Amy's characterization in Worm as a tragic victim of family dynamics are ultimately in service to a story about the uncontrollable sexual urges of a homosexual deviant. Her use in Ward as a critique of offloading moral responsibility onto circumstances is motivated by a perceived need to make her less sympathetic, and is accomplished by doubling-down on characterizing her as a predatory deviant with uncontrollable urges. Tristan's backstory has been perhaps my favorite part of Ward so far, but at its core its the story of a man harming his brother in order to pursue homosexual relationships.

I wouldn't necessarily group Alec in as an example of this; rather than being a necessary aspect of his story and what makes it interesting, the detail of him raping both women and men men as a child could've been removed without needing to change anything else in his story. Ditto for Kenzie specifically attempting to force a relationship between herself and another girl. They're both incidentally bisexual, and their characterization wouldn't lose anything if they weren't written as bisexual—certainly, they didn't need to have their bisexuality revealed in the course of recounting their acts of sexual violence.

The same can't be said for Amy and Tristan: Amy's intense shame and repression as a closeted lesbian is an important aspect of the way the Guts and Glory plotline critiques the expectation parents impose on their children to conform to the idealized nuclear family dynamic. It intensifies her feeling of being an outsider, of not fitting the blond, presentable, heroic ideal they represent, of not being able to happily be paired off with the rich or influential boys her family pushes her to pursue. And its an aspect of her worries that she's intrinsically a bad person: The fear that her villainous parentage determines her character, that she ultimately just can't fit into her heroic adopted family, is a major component of her dogmatic early view of heroes as good and villains as evil, and her downward spiral when she realizes that being a hero can't protect her from being a bad person (I go into more detail here). Her sense that something is inherently wrong with her as a product of her shitty upbringing, and the way it leads to tragedy, is her story. You can't just snip out the homophobia by having her not be a lesbian the way you can with Kenzie.

Similarly, Tristan's interesting in part because his is the story of a guy who's denied getting to pursue the happiness afforded to his brother, because forcing someone to live through a "normal" romantic straight relationships is seen by the Vera siblings' corporate handlers as less unreasonable than forcing them to live through a "wilder" gay sexual-and-romantic relationship. And the text does actually criticize this viewpoint, at least in places. Byron making Tristan sit through dates with a person who absolutely hates everything about him, whose mutual attraction is based in part on their shared disdain for Tristan's "peacock" qualities—its horrible, and the text does a good job selling it as horrible despite Byron framing things differently in his narration. The desperation fueling Tristan's actions being, in part, a realization that society will let Byron trample over Tristan to pursue his felicity because it sees it as "safe" but wont let Tristan do the same—its one of the strongest aspects of their plotline for me (more details on this reading of Tristan's reaction to the Byron/Moonsong coupling here). But having it be part of that plotline necessarily means having another story where a gay character hurts their straight sibling to pursue their deviant urges. Again, you can't just snip out the homophobia while keeping all the interesting thematic stuff, the latter only follows from the former given the story's setup.

This isn't to say wildbow couldn't have written stories that cover the same thematic ground without being homophobic. Its just to say that he couldn't have done so while still telling anything resembling the story of Amy Dallon or the story of Tristan Vera. And to be clear, as much as I love Amy and Tristan's stories, I don't think they're merits "make up" for their homophobic writing—no more than the famous "Do we not bleed" monologue makes up for Shakespeare writing the most infamous antisemitic caricature this side of The Protocols.

[matthewtkachuk]

bad at love

Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.

pairing: jt compher x reader

warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3

It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last. 

It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you. 

Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado. 

If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’. 

Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count. 

It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way. 

JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house. 

The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?

You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid. 

But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely. 

Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you. 

By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours. 

Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes. 

-

Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy. 

At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level. 

It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law. 

Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it. 

JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit. 

It warms your heart. 

So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate. 

The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway. 

The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander. 

-

Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena. 

Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell. 

Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility. 

The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier. 

‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass. 

He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs. 

“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”

Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy. 

“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff. 

JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”

Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.” 

He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot. 

“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”

“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”

You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”

Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.

Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces. 

You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you. 

Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16. 

Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?

Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer. 

He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move. 

It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners. 

The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy. 

He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed. 

If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire. 

You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more. 

He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper. 

Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate. 

You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth. 

“It’ll be worth the wait.” 

And worth the wait it is. 

-

It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices. 

It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too. 

It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you. 

You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure. 

It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other. 

You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign. 

Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan. 

Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up. 

-

A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed. 

It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life. 

There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie. 

That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants. 

“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is. 

He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”

His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you. 

“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed. 

He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”

You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”

“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush. 

“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss. 

You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again. 

He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing. 

“I need—“

Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body. 

He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast. 

Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs. 

Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone. 

There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises. 

Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too. 

The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths. 

You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch. 

“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him. 

It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better. 

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips. 

Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him. 

He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm. 

It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too. 

Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up. 

When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs. 

The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery. 

Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall. 

You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake. 

Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with. 

Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying. 

“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap. 

Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”

JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless. 

Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”

JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”

A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.” 

Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing. 

The reality of the situation hits you. 

“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”

“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life. 

“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply. 

“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”

Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

-

In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time. 

“He loves you,” she says. 

You’re not so sure. 

That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here. 

It’s not all bad though. 

Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities. 

You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?

He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school. 

Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat. 

“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be. 

“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.” 

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.” 

It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away. 

The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same. 

Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red. 

It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist. 

In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded. 

“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head. 

Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit. 

It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up. 

Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you’ve probably totaled. 

One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…

When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan. 

“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone. 

“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”

“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts. 

You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”

He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked. 

True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass. 

You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours. 

“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”

The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back. 

His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”

Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again. 

“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact. 

“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head. 

You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”

Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”

“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.” 

It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist. 

The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door. 

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again. 

“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”

“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.” 

“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial. 

“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug. 

Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone,  it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother. 

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Rafe and Pogue Reader where she works at the country club and used to hook up with rafe but now he's back and they do it again

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Since his return to Kildare, you’ve been waking in Rafe’s bed.

You ran into him during your shift at the country club. He was sitting with some older man and appeared to be talking business so you didn’t go up to him. Rafe didn’t like to be interrupted during business and you respected that.

It felt strange to see him after a month of radio silence from him. His hair was buzzed now and you weren’t sure what to think of it.

After shaking hands with the man he was speaking with, seemingly concluding a deal, Rafe’s eyes crossed yours at the bar and the corner of his mouth twitched.

You stretched like a cat in the soft cream colored bed sheets, slowly waking. You could get used to this type of comfort. It felt nice to not have an old spring digging into your back all night and to not wake up to your neighbors yelling at each other.

The morning peace didn’t last though. You heard some rustling in the room and rolled over, seeing a shirtless Rafe with a towel around his waist looking through a pile of clothes.

‘’Shouldn't I be the one sneaking out and doing the walk of shame?’’

He grabbed a charcoal gray baseball tee and turned his head in your direction, a soft smile on his lips. ‘’I’m not sneaking out,’’ Rafe corrected, picking a pair of shorts and clean underwear and dressing at the end of the bed, not caring that there was a window to his right. ‘’I have some business to take care of, but you can hang out here. I’ll be back.’’

You sat up and reached for your phone, checking the time. ‘’I can’t stay past noon, though. I’m replacing a girl on the golf course. It’s boring, but the rich daddies tip very well when the caddie girl wears a mini skirt.’’

It was a very objectifying job and you hated playing dumb, but the tips were the reason you agreed to take your co-worker’s shift. College was expensive and you needed all the extra money you could get.

Rafe cocked an eyebrow, an idea popping in his head. ‘’Now that you’re telling me this, I might turn up and have a golf afternoon with the boys,’’ he said, flexing his muscles as he slipped his shirt over his head and shoulders.

‘’Please don’t,’’ you begged, embarrassed.

‘’Why not? I can tip better than those old perverts.’’

The money was not the problem. Everytime Rafe ordered something at the country club’s bar, he would always leave you a very generous tip. The other bartenders and waiters were so jealous.

You sighed. ‘’Rafe…’’

‘’I’ll see you at the gold course.’’ He grabbed his car keys and phone, ready to leave. ‘’Oh, and don’t wear shorts underneath your skirt.’’ 

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker  @slvtherinseeker @poppet05

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

Public

older!rockstar!eddie x popstar!reader

note: takes place after Paris throughout 2024, yn and eddie stop hiding their relationship now that they're both all in.

warning: slut shaming

-

y/nl/n

liked by isla_munson, coreyfogelmanis, and others

y/nl/n: 📸: eds

september 15, 2023

view all comments

em_1989: im so happy for you 😭😭

taytay.13: how she looks at him>>>

_17jenna: why is she with him? she could do so much better than some old guy

dylan_86: cause she's a slut

georgia.iloveyourson: that 'some old guy' is a literal rock legend. what have you done?

ribbons.in.your.hair: whats my girl making in the studio??? 👀

youve.been.gilmored_: y/n with glasses 🔛🔝

_jeremy.03: this relationship is weird...

ima_mirrorball: thanks for the opinion that nobody asked for 🥰

layla.anderson19: we're all gonna ignore the last photo???

-

posted Feb 5, 2024

Eddie Munson (46) and Y/n L/n (25) were seen getting very cozy at The Grammy's this past weekend. Sitting next to Taylor Swift, as well as Lana Del Rey, it seems the 'Nonsense' singer's friends get along great with the rock legend.

The couple were both up for their own separate awards, Munson being up for Rock Album with 'In Times New Roman...' by Queen of the Stone Age, having been the main producer on several songs. As well as 'Not Strong Enough' by Boygenius, a group Eddie had publicly wanted to work with since their first EP, and finally having that time this past year.

L/n was up for Record of the Year with her song 'Feather', winning her first Grammy. The couple shared a cute moment, with a hug and a kiss, before she got a big hug from friend and mentor, Taylor Swift, then running up on stage; mentioning both in her speech. As well as winning Music Video for, again, her song 'Feather'.

The couple also didn't miss Eddie Munson's son, Leo Munson, getting a few awards that night also. The man worked with Boygenius, producing and winning Alternative Album, as well as beating his father in Rock Album, with 'This Is Why' by Paramore.

All around a very successful night for the couple, as one of their first fully public engagements together.

-

y/nl/n

liked by leomunson, tarayummy, and others

y/nl/n: 🎀

June 22, 2024

view all comments

em.emily: she's so hot 😍

sturniolo.13: she's crazyyy for this

dads.bradsandchads: She admits she's only with him cause of his age and money.

mom.iama.richman: i aspire to be your level of delusion

big_reputation: the pic w eddie is so cute

zebra11: y/n is so iconic 😭

katelynstyles: she's so unserious

normalpeople_: ikr i love her

flyers_fan: She's with him for attention.

carmencarmen: i also love dilfs

-

isla_munson

liked by y/nl/n, leahsavajeffries, and others

isla_munson: my first ep 'isla' is out THIS FRIDAY!!! 🖤🤍

August 6, 2024

view all comments

y/nl/n: so proud of you hun!!! ❤️❤️

walker.scobell: 🍂

isla_munson: 🍂

corrodedcoffinofficial: So excited to listen, little Munson!

jess.1989: y/n has writing creds!!

speaknow.stan: that's how y'know its gonna be good!

madmax: nah, we know its gonna be good because Leo is producing!

emails_13: nah, we know its gonna be good because its isla!

sienna.taylor: my little recording artist 🥰

isla_munson: love ya! ❤️

samandcolbys.wife: walker and isla's comments 👀

isla.loverr: autumn leaves about to be THE teenage love song

lana.lorde: i know!!! they're so cute!

leomunson: can't wait for people to hear your work!

isla_munson: our* work

isla's ep:

balled of a homeschooled girl - olivia rodrigo

kissing lessons - lucy dacus

pretty isn't pretty - olivia rodrigo

lacy - olivia rodrigo

anatomy - kenzie (about her mom)

autumn leaves - mckenna grace (about walker)

graceland too - pheobe bridgers (leo wrote about isla)

~taglist~

@whoscamila @mystargirl-interlude @creoleguurl @witchwolflea @kissmejoey @taylorswiftsloverfr @random000000sblog

[jonquilyst]

Day 0 - Introduction and Team Sorting

🎵 Dear Mom and Dad, I'm doin' fine. You guys are on my mind... 🎵

WELCOME TO TOTAL DRAMA SIMS! The hottest new reality TV show on Simblr. I'm your host jonquilyst, and starting today 14 teenagers will gather to put their wits, guts, and strength to the test to see who can survive and persevere the longest. Buckle up, 'cause it's gonna be totally, absolutely insane!

Allow me to also welcome you to Camp Simsanakwa! Located somewhere along the coast of Brindleton Bay, this crappy summer camp will be our 14 contestants' new home! Here’s a little tour:

🎵 You asked me what I wanted to be, and I think the answer is plain to see... 🎵

🎵 I wanna live close to the sun. Pack your bags 'cause I've already won... 🎵

We've got the basic necessities here: 2 cabins (one for each team) with 2 rooms each, a mess hall for everyone's lounging and culinary needs, and of course bathrooms for everyone to do their business!

But the most exciting part is the campfire, where everyone will face the judgement of their fellow contestants, and the Dock of Shame, where losers will say goodbye to Total Drama Sims!

Now, our 14 contestants have arrived. Allow me to formally introduce our two teams: THE SCREAMING LLAMAS AND THE KILLER COWPLANTS!

🎵 Everything to prove nothing's in my way. I'll get there one day! 🎵

(from left to right; top to bottom)

ASTER ERNST (he/him) by @mayzie-grobe - An aspiring medium who believes in everything metaphysical, like ghosts and astrology

CAMDEN REESE (he/him) by @simsinfinitylt - Your neighborhood party boy; colorful and energetic

ELLI PROUDMOORE (they/them) by @void-critters - Your typical rebel who thrives on defiance and mischief

LILIUM POND (she/her) by @seyvia - An outdoorsy girl who's hopelessly obsessed with frogs

POPPY SPARKS (she/her) by @micrathene-w - A creative who wants to become an admired icon

REAGAN FELIX (she/her) by @prismaticpotentia - A pressured rich girl who wants to make her parents proud

TERRANCE VELLARD (he/him) by @aniraklova - A mischievous goofball who loves a good prank

(from left to right; top to bottom)

ALEXIS YOUNGBLOOD (she/her) by @thebramblewood - An impulsive daredevil who's confident she'll win

ANIKA PATEL (she/her) by @comfyinn - An easily-jealous girl who was tricked into the competition by her father

AUBREY DE PEYSTER (she/her) by @chaoticpixls - An environment-conscious bookworm who wants to carve her own path

CASSIE FULLER (she/her) by @softle0 - A famous streamer with a knack of flirting with anyone she sees

DAHLIA GROVE (she/her) by @ashubii - An obedient studious girl who accidentally became a contestant by boarding the wrong bus

KENZIE RITCHIE (she/her) by @wastelandwhisperer - An obnoxiously colorful girl who loves all things kawaii

LOGAN WEST-HARPER (he/him) by @akitasimblr - A reserved though kind boy who was entered into the competition by his brother

🎵 I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be famous! 🎵

[rebel-sqrrl]

It's a shame Lily wasn't around for Kenzie's breakdown after Tristan died. She could've swooped in to go "when you ask a girl out and she says no, the correct response isn't

it's

and then you promise to do violence for her until she dates you for real!"

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Now that I have your attention:

[hariboz]

FINALLY MORE JEBI MUSIC HERE IS MY RANKING!!

1. kill the romeo

SOOOO catchy i love this so much, i wish it was 10 minutes long. i’m obsessed the instrumental is so fun, THE CHORUS IS LACED WITH PURE CRACK IT WAS STUCK IN MY HEAD WHILE LISTENING TO THE REST OF THE ALBUM….i’m so serious this could be my favourite jebi song to date i’m so in love with it oh my god

2. good so bad

“thank you goddess kenzie” we all say in unison. give me a few days and it might take over in bloom as my favourite title track….i’m sorry after kill the romeo there’s not much i can say for everything else GASP ALSO!!! GYUVIN LINES! wow

3. insomnia

THIS SHOULD BE 3:30 AT LEAST it’s so chill i love when they do songs like this. ricky vocals 🥰🫶🏻

4. eternity & 바다

eternity is like a hug it’s soothing to my soul i swear. it kind of reminds me of a seventeen song for some reason??? like i love it so much it’s so nice. 바다 is a good remake and it fits the jebis so well, so i’m glad they did it!!!

5. yura yura (korean ver.)

unfortunately it doesn’t flow as nicely as the japanese version..? i’m someone who usually listens to versions interchangeably, but this kinda misses for me. maybe if i get used to this version i’ll enjoy it as much as the og!!

6. road movie

i never thought this day would come but this is genuinely my least favourite jebi song so far….which is suchhhh a shame because the verses are so nice, their vocals are pure sugar but the chorus just takes me out of it completely 🥹 which is surprising considering i’m a czennie….it just doesn’t work imo, maybe it’ll grow on me </3

[fvntasmic]

ROMANCE HEADCANONS

tagged by:@adoratixns

name: lucas john moore.

nickname: luke (prefers).

gender: male.

romantic orientation:  homosexual.

preferred pet names: baby, princess.

relationship status: single 

favorite current canon ship: morgan wilson verse. 

favorite current non-canon ship: morgan wilson verse - specifically when they fought over a bagel.

opinion on true love: doesn't believe it exists.

 opinion on love at first sight: doesn't believe in it.

how ‘romantic’ are they?:  sometimes he'll pay for dinner, and sometimes he won't call his partner a crude name (dickhead, asshole, etc).

ideal physical traits: sucker for curly hair, likes someone who's taller than him. luke really likes someone who will put up with his attitude, and give it right back to him. he's a sucker for good banter. luke also likes someone who's possessive and protective of him.

ideal personality traits:  someone who is protective and confident. he'll never admit this, but he also likes persistence.

unattractive physical traits: anyone who kisses his ass, or is overly touchy (to an extent, if he's comfortable, he won't mind it).

unattractive personality traits: someone whose too conceited, or greedy. he also doesn't care for laziness.

ideal date: nothing too flashy, he likes casual dates. a night in with some takeout and a crappy horror movie from the 80s playing.

do they have a type? he prefers someone that matches his energy

average relationship length: he's only had one serious one that lasted 5 years, after that, he hasn't had a relationship since. 

preferred non-sexual intimacy: possessive touches

commitment level:  he's a runner he's a track star (but, if he gets to that level, he's 110% in)

 displays of public affection: occasional kisses, but not a super big fan.

past relationships? one from about 5 years ago.

tagging: anyone else who wants!

[victoriadallonfan]

It’s such a shame Kenzie never got to see Codename:Kids Next Door

She’d fall in love with that show

[chloessleepystories]

Sisters part 4

Helen bumped the bedroom door with the laundry basket, and it opened slightly.

“Kenzie? I’m coming in! Hide the naked men and drug paraphernalia, here comes Mom!” The door swung open. “Actually, just looking for dirty laun ...”

She blinked. The bedroom was empty. And unlike her normally neat daughter’s usual habits, it was a pigsty.

“Now where is she off to, so early on a Saturday,” she murmured. “And what is going on with this mess?”

She moved carefully through the room, picking up scattered clothing and discarded underwear as she went. But there seemed almost a progression, a time capsule of a week of changing tastes: jeans gave way to skirts, sensible shirts were gradually replaced with crop tops ... but it was the underwear Mom really started to notice. Thongs? Lace? Since when did her smart and more-or-less asexual daughter care about dressing like this? Chloe, sure, but Kenzie?

“I guess it had to happen sooner or later,” she sighed at this evidence of her younger daughter’s sexual awakening. “She is 18 now, after all. As long as she doesn’t start dressing or acting TOO slutty ...”

Her laundry basket full, Helen was on the way out when she saw the iPod, abandoned on the desk. That’s strange, she thought. Kenzie had rarely been without her music lately. Turning it over, she noticed a scrap of masking tape on the back marked with a “1” in pen. Ah, that explains it. She must have more than one ...

And, curious about what fantastic music had so obsessed her daughter lately, she went to find her own earbuds. No harm in giving it a listen while she continued doing the housework, she thought.

Helen hadn’t noticed that several of the panties seemed crusty with dried secretions, or that there was an odd stain on a couple of the tops, too. It hadn’t registered with her that there was only one bra in the whole room – Kenzie hadn’t worn one in days, from one of her sister’s many suggestions.

Leaving Kenzie’s bedroom, she glanced again at the sexy underthings on top. Sighed at her baby growing up. And said aloud, “Well, as long as it doesn’t interfere with her studies ...”

Singing this song long enough

Will turn you to a dumb slut

Super silly fragile minded

Sexpot giggly fuckslut

At around the same time, Kenzie was bent over between two college-age boys, a short red plaid skirt bunched around her waist and a simple white schoolgirl shirt hanging off one arm as she was slammed into from both ends. Her hair was in pigtails and her perky breasts bounced as the thick cocks fucked her drooling cunt and her drooling mouth, her eyes vacant and glassy as her brains dripped out of her holes. Her iPod lay near her panties several feet away, the masking-taped “3” just visible under the blue lace.

Her sister Chloe watched eagerly, rubbing herself occasionally, as she filmed the further debasement of her formerly goody-goody sister. “Yes, fuck her, boys,” she moaned. “Rape the IQ out of her a point at a time.”

The boys slammed into her harder, and Kenzie’s choking noises filled the video camera’s microphone for a moment. “How do you like being my compliant little fuckslut, Kenzie?” she called. “Your brain all fuzzy and floaty? Your libido buzzing and never satisfied, my entranced, docile, suggestible little sister?”

“Glukk gukk guhk gugg glukg gggghhhhhgg ...”

They were in the recording studio at the radio station where Chloe worked, in relative privacy. Sure, she’d had to bribe a couple of the studio techs to let them have some space to work, but since the price had been her sister’s body, the boys had been super willing to not only take the bribe, but appear in the amateur porn video that followed.

“You’re going to make me so much money,” Chloe told her mindwiped sister. “And you’re going to be so embarrassed to know that people are getting off watching you. You’ll feel such shame knowing that your reputation is being trashed. That people will come to know you as nothing but a stupid slut. But that embarrassment, that shame ... that will turn you on ...”

Kenzie’s body seemed to shudder as the idea took hold. (Though maybe that was just from the final slam of the cock in her mouth, as one of the techs emptied his load down her throat.) In her vulnerable state, her mind took in every suggestion as a really, really good idea. Her sister’s commands often – not always, but often – took root as solid facts, core personality traits.

The long cock pulled out of her mouth, covered in her drool, and Kenzie panted, trying to catch her breath as she was still being pounded from behind, strong hands pulling on her young hips. Her body wasn’t used to this kind of abuse, but Kenzie hadn’t felt anything to complain about in days. Even pain and soreness just made her giggle.

“You love that, don’t you slut,” growled the man who’d just painted her tonsils. “It feels great to be spit-roasted, and I bet you can’t wait to do it again.”

Kenzie suddenly shuddered again, as she gave in to a whole-body orgasm, shaking and screaming as the other man came in her unprotected pussy. “It does!! Oh fuck it feels great I love it I need it I love being spit-roasteeeeeedddd....”

Chloe raised an eyebrow, looking to the man now rubbing his slick cock across Kenzie’s slimed face, then back to her climaxing sister. Suggestible ...

It feels good to

Obey

Obey

Obey ...

Meanwhile, Mom was whistling as she hopped around Chloe’s room. She had been surprised to find her bedroom empty too, when she’d first entered – her 20-year-old “career woman” was a hard partier and generally slept in on a Saturday – but she wasn’t thinking about it anymore. She wasn’t thinking about much, really.

Don’t wanna be

Thinking

Thinking

Thinking

So fun to be

Giggly

Giggly

Giggly

Helen giggled. She couldn’t help it. What a fun, infectious tune! It made her want to dance while she worked. It filled her with happy little bubbles. She hadn’t felt so light in years! No wonder her kids couldn’t stop listening to this music ...

She tidied Chloe’s room, and moved down the hall. What could she do now? She had so much energy! But not paying the bills, no, that made her unhappy. Just thinking of it made her brain hurt.

Washing the dishes! That would be perfect. She wouldn’t need to think – just clean, and hum, and

smile ...

You love to be

Bubbly

Bubbly

Bubbly

When she was almost done – and where had the time gone?? – she suddenly splashed herself badly from the water hitting a skillet wrong. Ohhhh, her shirt was all wet. Better go change!

She unplugged herself from the iPod for the first time in an hour to pull her shirt over her head. But it was like she could still hear that happy little beat. What to wear?

She looked at herself in the mirror, in her bra and jeans. She was still attractive, only approaching her mid-40s. Getting out there dating again soon. She had nothing to worry about. (She HAD been worried, hadn’t she? But somehow, today, she couldn’t worry about anything!!) Dammit, I’m beautiful! she thought. And men are gonna want this ...

You wanna be

Sexy

Sexy

Sexy

Helen felt a sudden tingle of arousal, looking at herself. Thinking of meeting new men. And had a strange thought – would there be anything in either of her daughters’ wardrobes, that might fit her? She wanted to feel ... sexy ...

She walked down the hall, humming to the remembered tune, idly stroking her breasts through her bra, pinching her nipples without really thinking about it. Yes, sexy. I want to be sexy ...

But thoughts of teenagers’ clothing fell out of her mind as soon as she walked into Kenzie’s tidied bedroom, and spotted something she hadn’t seen the first time: there, on the dresser. Another iPod. She snatched it up, barely registered the number “2” scrawled on the tape.

Her mouth fell open as she stared at it, and she almost drooled. She didn’t know anything about drugs, was against drugs as a rule – but her body reacted exactly like a junkie about to get their next fix.

Where.

The FUCK.

Did I leave my earbuds...

Her bra was off before she left the room, but she didn’t even notice.

Don’t want to be

Brainy

Brainy

Brainy

[lunargazing-png]

Hope this isn’t too soon after your break! I meant to ask this a while back not long after the first one, because you’ve got me so curious: We know about Ikoleta and Az now, so what about Kara? Any info on her partner (assuming Kenzie wasn’t conceived via IVF or something similar) and their background?

Once again, thank you so much in advance. ❤️ Hope you’re well!

thanks for popping in!! I'm doing better 😊 Still somewhat on and off but I plan on coming back. I wish I could say how hectic my life has been- things could be better, but I'm riding the wave. Questions are a nice distraction 💗

Kara's previous partner was a man named Arrow. I don't have a very extensive background about him yet, but he was a nice man and I like to think that Kara's in laws treated her like an actual human being when she was recovering after the war. They met each other at a college party and he gave her his jacket because it rained. She info dumped to him about her studies and the station she was going to dock at to start her career: Shanxi. He was head over heels, and their personalities mended well together. There was no way he could let this opportunity slip away, so they ended up stationing on Shanxi together. I like to think that they both firmly believed they were each other's better half and this was the person who'd they see forever with.

(lil portrait I drew of him just for this ask! I like to think Kenzie takes from him a lot.) He was an aerospace engineer at the Relay 314 Incident. He was killed in combat during the first attack. Initially MIA when the war began, but eventually his remains were recovered and returned almost an entire year after. He's one of many casualties that are listed on memorial walls. I like to think that he's a very important person to both Kara and Az when they revisit the topic of the war. It would have been so easy to turn to hate and anger after her partner's death, but love is what made their time together so precious in the first place. Grief can be so difficult to work through and it never really leaves a person. I think Arrow is an aspect of Kara's foundation instead of something she ever tried to forget. She keeps up her promise that he'd see "forever" with her. I think Az has a lot of thoughts about him too. He had a lot to look forward to and loved someone that Azailick loves as well, it's only natural he has a lot of respect for the guy. Celebrating "turian pride" feels hollow to him when he looks at Kara and the struggles she went through after the war. There's twinges of shame and guilt scattered around in his consciousness about how he's a chess piece on the grander board that contributed to Arrow's death. Taking care of a child as a single mother, while going through the grief of becoming widowed, and also having to learn about living with a new disability all in the same breath hits Az like a ton of bricks when he thinks about Kara. He is not a replacement, but she deserves love and respect all the same in his eyes. If Arrow was still around I think he'd know the feeling that Az had when he dropped everything to go to her in the middle of a battlefield.

thanks for sending in an ask again! this is more of a sad one fwbfjhwa a little bittersweet!

[andsour]

trauma candy salad hnlm edition !!

content warning : trauma dumping , illness and death of a parent , death by suicide , absent parents , toxic workplace , body shaming , toxic relationships , implied drug and alcohol abuse , cheating. none of this is actually depicted in detail , but it is discussed by the characters in a flippant joking manner. lmk if there's anything i missed and i'll add it immediately !! ib : @bluwavez <3

the video starts with joori sitting cross–legged on the floor, dressed in a pink pyjama set and holding up a pack of candies as she waits to begin before whoever’s behind the phone camera whispers, “okay, go!”.

“hello, i’m joori, and when i was a kid my family lost our house and had to move in with my grandma because my dad got sick, so i decided to become an idol so i could be, like, rich and save our family, right? then right before i debuted, he died.” she shares bluntly. “i brought the sweet & sour strawberry chews!” she drops a handful of the unpeeled candies into the bowl.

“hi, guys! i’m ryuhyun, and i never had any real friends growing up because i was homeschooled, so obviously i was really excited to become a trainee and finally make some friends, just for everyone to hate me because they thought i got their friend cut on purpose. i brought strawberry milk candy.” she explains, pushing her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose before pouring the still–wrapped candy into the bowl. she looks up at the camera like she’s just remembered something. “it’s okay, they all like me now.” she adds sweetly, chuckling along with the other girls.

“hey, i’m meilin, and i was always praised by my dance instructors growing up for staying late at the studio and being so hard–working and driven, but it was really just because neither of my parents were ever home and i didn’t have anything better to do,” meilin shares. “i brought skittles!”

“hiiii! my name’s kenzie, and when i was thirteen on the mickey mouse club, i got bullied for being “annoying” and “ugly” by people on the internet so i left that company and changed literally everything about myself but it didn’t matter because they still don’t like me. i brought nerds gummy clusters!” she explains animatedly, all in one breath, pouring the contents of the bag into the bowl.

“i’m ej, i brought twizzlers nibs, and when i was in first grade, my mom killed herself.” ej states simply, dumping what she can into the bowl and then picking off the pieces that get stuck to the inside of the bag. the video is abnormally quiet as she does so, then cuts abruptly.

“i’m joori, and when i asked our creative director why she refused to put a song i worked really hard on, on our album, that, mind you, our producers had already approved of, she told me it was dogshit! i brought watermelon sour patch kids.” she says, smiling stiffly, which makes the rest of the girls laugh, breaking the tense atmosphere.

anna has to take a second to collect herself, still cracking up, before she starts. “hi, i’m anna, and that same creative director told me i was fat and it was ruining all of our concept pictures,” she forces an exaggerated frown before snickering. “i brought peach rings!”

“i’m ej, and a year ago my mentally unstable ex–girlfriend trashed my room while she screamed at and broke up with me for the hundredth time, but i did cheat on her with her—” the camera whips around to reveal kenzie with her jaw ajar, shocked at being exposed at first, before she clamps a hand over her mouth and laughs, then turns back to ej. “— so it was warranted, i guess. i brought haitai plum candies.” she shrugs, before dumping the candy into the bowl.

“i’m meilin, and a guy led me on for a year, let me buy him a bunch of shit and treated me like his girlfriend, just to tell me he wanted to back to being only friends, then, like, a week later popped out with another girl on his private instagram, and when i confronted him about it he was like, “well, i never asked you to do all that!”,” meilin mockingly puts on an exaggerated deep voice when she says the last part, then rolls her eyes. “and that’s why his group’s comeback flopped. i brought sweet tart chews.”

“ryuhyun again!” the girl chimes, waving to the camera. “at a fansign when we first debuted, this fan straight–up acted like i didn’t exist— like, they wouldn’t even look at me or let me sign their stuff. i didn’t get any gifts. then, people on twitter called me a crybaby for getting up and leaving half–way through… so i could go cry.” she admits the last part sheepishly, laughing at herself a little with the other girls. “i brought gummy bears.”

“i’m anna, and whenever i made a mistake while i was singing opera solos in a literal children’s chorus, because i was a literal child, my mom would get angry and refuse to talk to me for days,” she shares. “i brought jolly ranchers!”

“i’m kenzie and when i was eighteen, i dated this fucking loser— his name is kim daehyun, by the way—” kenzie starts as the rest of the group laughs scandalously at the name–drop. “and when he’d get mad at me, which was basically all the time, he’d repeat my hate comments to me. i stayed with him for eight months, though, and hooked up with him, like, three times after we broke up. i brought green apple sour straws!”

“girl.” anna chides off–camera as the others snicker.

kenzie shakes her head and waves her hands, embarrassed by her past self. “i’ve learned since then, i promise!”

“hey, i’m ej, and i spent the year i turned twenty–one getting fucked up and partying every night, and i almost lost my job because of it,” ej explains, carding her free hand through her dark hair. “i brought mini starbursts.”

the video cuts, but ej is still in the frame, joined by joori who has an arm draped over her shoulder. “i’m joori and i basically had to stage an intervention so she wouldn’t lose her job. best friends!” the girl smiles widely, hugging ej closer. “oh and, i brought trolli sour bite night crawlers!”

the gummy worms fall onto the pile of candy in the bowl with a thud. an unsteady hand holds the camera over the bowl while the girls use their hands to mix the candy together, their voices and laughter overlapping in the background. it cuts again to ej violently shaking the bowl to better mix the candy and making a mess. finally, it ends with kenzie holding up a peace sign while the rest of the group poses behind her, chewing on their candy as they chime, “byeeee!”