#been meaning to make this post for a while

[ailithnight]

The JLD know Danny isn't fully alive anymore, but they don't know he's Phantom.

So naturally, they decide to contact the little gatekeeper as soon as they know about him.

Clark and the kids come back from Nasty Burger as they are setting up. Danny asks what they're doing. They answer. And before Danny can stammer out something along the lines of "I can put you in touch without this," (or perhaps after, but the JLD decides their way is faster/safer (containment spell in the circle)), they start casting the spell. The room lights up ectoplasm green, the world around Danny goes wibbly, and suddenly he's 6 feet from where he was and feels like he's gonna puke or faint or both.

Danny, while tinkering with a Fenton Tech device used to create a sonic frequency that deters ghosts, accidentally finds the frequency of Jimmy Olsen’s watch. He flinched back violently, leaning back on his chair too far and on a crash course of hitting the ground before he was stopped by the cause of his fright: Superman appearing in his bedroom.

[carnalcrows]

SAY PLEASE

pairing: abby saja x top male reader

synopsis: Abby’s been throwing hints left and right—flirty touches, cocky smirks, lingering glances that scream take the damn bait already. But his manager just keeps smiling at him like nothing’s going on. Sweet. Harmless. So when Abby finally snaps after a brutal night and drags him into a supply closet, desperate to blow off steam, he figures he knows how this ends. A quick hookup. A little control. Easy.

He doesn’t expect the guy he’s been teasing for weeks to turn around and beg for something filthier. Something softer. Something that leaves Abby shaking by the end of it.

And the worst part? He kind of loves it.

content warnings: 18+, smut, brat Abby, top male reader, power dynamics, closet scene, manager x idol, begging, dom/sub elements, praise kink (good boy, prince), manhandling, ass eating, overstimulation, [smut], post-scenario emotional softness, mild internalized shame, possessive behavior, freaky obsession (hidden under a sweet exterior)

word count: 1.2k

"You gonna help me or not?" Abby asked, breath short, jaw tight.

You blinked up at him from where he dropped you. “...What kind of help are we talking about?”

He exhaled like he was about to throw something. “Are you serious right now?”

"I mean—" You sat up slowly. "You’ve been kinda vague."

Abby crouched in front of you, both hands planted on either side of your thighs. His eyes were glassy with frustration. "I dragged you into a closet. What do you think I want?"

You tilted your head, all soft lashes and fake innocence. “Hug?”

His face twitched. “You are such a fucking menace.”

"Then why do you keep flirting with me?"

“I—what—?” He paused, short-circuited.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” you asked, voice dropping a little, just enough to make his breath catch. “You think I haven’t been waiting for you to finally do something about it?”

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. You were already rising to your knees, closing the space between you, until you could hear the way his breath stuttered when you leaned in.

Abby blinked, startled. “Wait—so you knew?”

“Oh, baby,” you breathed, brushing your fingers under his chin, “I’ve been starving for you.”

His whole body tensed, heat crawling up his neck.

You smiled. “So. How do you want me?”

Abby licked his lips, fast. “I thought you’d maybe wanna… I dunno. Suck me off. Or let me—”

“Nope.”

You kissed the corner of his jaw. “Wanna eat you out.”

He jerked back like you slapped him. “You what?”

“I said—”

“No, no, I heard you. I just. What the fuck.”

You shrugged. “You dragged me in here. You said you were stressed. Let me help.”

“That’s not—Guys don’t usually—I’m not—” He looked like he was glitching out. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

You gave him that look. Soft. Puppyish. Lips parted, a little pouty. Not even putting it on.

“Please?” you whispered. “Want you so bad, Abby. Been thinking about it forever.”

His throat bobbed.

"You're not gonna tell anyone, right?"

"Course not."

You kissed him.

That shut him up fast.

Abby stiffened, caught off guard, but he didn’t pull away. His hands twitched at your sides like he couldn’t decide whether to push you off or pull you in. And then—slowly—he kissed you back. Tentative at first. Almost shy, like the fire he’d come in with was starting to burn inward now.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, cheeks flushed, breath catching like he’d just realized what he was agreeing to.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” he muttered.

You tilted your head, smiling gently. “You don’t have to.”

He hesitated. Really hesitated this time. You could see it—pride and desire wrestling under his skin, chewing at the edge of his mouth. His fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt like he needed to hold something while he decided.

Then finally, he let out a breath and nodded.

“Okay,” he said softly. “But if I tell you to stop, you have to stop. No matter what.”

You beamed up at him, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “Deal,” you agreed easily. “Now turn around and brace yourself against the wall.”

Abby did as you asked, hands splaying against the shelves as you positioned yourself behind him—before pushing his pants down, along with his boxers. You could see the way his body trembled with anticipation, hear the shaky inhale of his breath.

"Tell me if you need me to slow down or stop," you reminded him gently, hands coming to rest on his hips. "I'll check in with you throughout."

With that, you leaned forward and dragged the flat of your tongue over his entrance. Abby jerked, a gasp leaving his lips at the sudden contact. You hummed encouragingly, licking again before sealing your mouth around him and sucking lightly.

"Oh fuck," Abby breathed, fingers scrabbling at the shelves. "That feels... holy shit."

You just continued your ministrations, varying your technique to figure out what he liked best. It didn't take long before he was pushing back against your face, breath coming in short pants as you worked him open with lips and tongue.

"Please," he whined after a few minutes, hips rolling desperately against the wall. "I need more. Need your fingers or something."

You pulled back just long enough to slick up two fingers before pressing them inside him, curling them just so to hit his prostate. Abby cried out, back arching as he struggled to take the new stretch.

"Right there," he gasped, head thrashing from side to side. "Fuck yes, just like that. Don't stop."

You didn't, doubling down on your efforts until he was babbling incoherently, thighs shaking with the force of his pleasure. Only then did you pull your fingers free, sealing your lips back around him and sucking hard as you pushed three fingers inside this time.

"Shit," Abby panted, eyes rolling back as he struggled to take the new stretch. "So fucking full. Can't... can't take much more."

You just stayed there behind him, gaze locked on every twitch, every shiver, working him over with your mouth and hands like you were starving for it. Abby’s fingers scrabbled against the wall of the closet, breath hitching. His head dropped forward with a soft, choked sound—he couldn’t see you, but he didn’t need to. Every nerve in his body was screaming for you.

"Gonna come," he warned shakily, hips starting to stutter. "Fuck, I'm gonna come."

You just hummed around him, continuing to work on his prostate until he was screaming your name, spilling a hot and sticky mess from his cock, that dribbled down to his hole and across your tongue. You swallowed it down greedily, continuing to work him through his orgasm with lips and tongue until he was spent and shaking.

Only then did you pull away, licking your lips clean as you rose to your feet. Abby looked up at you with glassy, satisfied eyes, a dopey grin on his face— reaching up to pull you down for a proper kiss. You went willingly, letting him taste himself on your tongue as he clung to you.

You were both still on the floor ten minutes later.

Well. You were on the floor. Abby was draped across your chest like a dramatic little prince, sweat cooling along his collarbone, your jacket half-tucked beneath him like a makeshift pillow.

He hadn’t spoken in a while. Just kept exhaling soft and shaky, like he didn’t quite know how to be alive again yet.

Finally, he muttered, “...Fuck.”

You laughed quietly, one hand stroking up his back.

“Never speak of this again,” he said.

You hummed. “You said that already.”

“I mean it.”

You kissed the top of his head. “Sure, baby.”

He didn’t argue. Just curled in closer, fingers fisting the fabric of your shirt.

"...You were really good,” he mumbled, voice too quiet for how bratty he usually was. “Like. Stupid good.”

You smiled. “I know.”

"Ugh." He shoved at your chest half-heartedly. "Don’t get cocky."

"Too late. Got you crying in a closet."

He groaned into your neck. “I hate you.”

You laughed. “You will. Until the next time you’re stressed.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

Taglist: @belovedengie @jrxkar @yippee-yippee8 @faggotboulevard @bleedingbl0ssom @green-turtle3 @mazettns @laynnetteii1 (comment to be added)

[mishappeningss]

I’ve got 2 requests I’m curious about driver y/n and what she does on her down time on and off the track? When in a new country, does she explore the city with other drivers like finding new places to eat, go on scenic hikes, or does she stay inside enjoying the view?

And are there any awkward/funny moments with other drivers that went viral? Like maybe they get caught gossiping or they’re seen setting up an elaborate prank??

“Where in the world is YN?” — here’s what she does in her downtime, and the side quests she does with drivers from grid :)

more about driver!yn

Some days, she’ll wake up early, put a lazy outfit on, and convince Lando or Pierre to go find the best bakery in the city with her (she has lists, she’s researched before she flew in the country).

She’ll wander local markets with Yuki, asking for spice recommendations she’ll never actually use. She loves walking instead of getting an uber, even if it means getting lost. She once found a hidden café in Vienna and swore it changed her life.

She’s only here for a week, maybe even less — she has to see something!

In some days, she just wants quiet. If the weekend’s been intense, she’s the type to stay in, order room service, and watch a local show on the hotel TV.

She’ll sit on the hotel balcony with tea and headphones, writing in her notebook or doing nothing at all. She also loves a solo walk at sunset, hoodie up, face hidden — no makeup, no pressure, just silence.

Sometimes, she turns her phone off completely and lets the city go on without her for a while. There’d be a blurry picture a fan shot of her sitting alone in Prague, legs dangling over the edge, holding a book and a bag of pastries.

“she looked so peaceful. just her and the breeze.”

She also has her main person whenever she travels! Carlos for structured city walks, and good food recommendations, Pierre when she wants quiet company and good coffee.

Lando and Oscar when she’s feeling chaotic and wants to laugh until she cries. Lewis for the occasional serene, a secret adventure no one else gets invited to.

Yuki when she wants to eat everything. George for scenic hikes that turn into accidental therapy sessions halfway up.

She’s not just there to race — she’s collecting memories in every timezone. Whether she’s sitting by a window with tea or running through the streets with three other people and a camera, she always makes space to feel the city.

And yes, the amount of chaos this girl gets caught in with other drivers? They’ve got their serious moments for sure — but their off track moments are absolutely what fans live for.

a hot mic disaster

During a post qualifying press conference, YN turns to Oscar and whispers loudly, “If Charles sighs one more time, I’m throwing my bottle at him.”

She thought her mic was off. It was very much not.

Charles, who was sitting two seats away, blinked directly to the camera. “How can she even hear me sighing?”

gossip cam

A fan filmed her, Liam, and Alex sitting on a wall post-race, whispering very intensely. Alex clearly mouths “He’s a weasel” and YN chokes on her water.

Fan exploded thinking they were dragging Lando. He later posted: “i am NOT a weasel. but also. who was it about i need to know”

“these three gossiping on live camera like mean girls with paddock passes 😭”

Oh, and I forgot. Sticker wars. It lasted for about two seasons and fans still talk about it.

It started when YN slapped a tiny, ugly frog sticker on Oscar’s water bottle as a joke after he left it unattended during media day.

He didn’t notice for three days. Once he did, he accused half the paddock. And from that moment… it escalated. Fast.

Carlos found a sticker of a potato with a mustache on his notebook before FP1. Lando got hit with a middle finger sticker on the back of his phone. He left it on for three weeks because he liked it.

YN walked into the Mercedes garage to find her seat completely covered in Hello Kitty stickers. Turns out? George is a menace with a printer and a grudge.

At one point, the drivers made a “Sticker Bounty Board” and taped it on the wall of the drivers’ room:

$10 to whoever sneaks a sticker on Roscoe

Double points if you can sneak a sticker on Kimi’s forehead without him noticing

No one touch Max. Please.

Many say it’s over, that the stickers are lessening. But they still see frog stickers lingering every weekend on front rears and helmets. 🐸👀

[self-chiller]

I'm not going to say this isn't an issue or that you don't have a point, but I see this as something that should be viewed and treated with compassion, which this post is absolutely not doing

Social media gives people an avenue to be petty in a very public way, without a second thought, where before social media we would usually just complain about random little annoying things while hanging out in private. Exposure to these sentiments on a consistent basis from a wide variety of people, some of whom one may want to befriend, especially for people who have been chronically socially rejected or punished over their lives (and are also therefore more likely to turn to social media as an outlet where they can better curate how they're perceieved), can lead to feeling like it really is impossible to get anyone to have even a modicum of respect for you. And, no, being unable to exist outside of others' approval isn't self-respectful or fun, but the fact at the end of the day is that, much like the dogs you alluded to, we're social animals and the fear of nobody even tolerating you is natural and reasonable.

I'm not going to get into "normalizing" or "validating" as all the meaning has been worn out of those terms at this point, but people should learn to make their peace with people being different from them, actually. Would that be so bad?

crazy thang is whenever someone makes a post talkng about how xyz thing annoys them someone will always go 'oh so we're not even allowed to do [thing] anymore??' like no you literally can. that person just will not like you. if that is enough to stop you then its not that youre not allowed its that you are not capable of existing outside of the approval of others

[formulafanfics13]

oscar is mad af after silvo. you've seen him be angry before but never this much. he's taking out all his frustration on reader and is literally hyper focused and i mean dead set on making sure reader's legs are shaking by the time he's done with her. she could cum 3 times back to back but if she can still stand properly then he's not satisfied, he needs this victory after not having the racing one yk?

Showing an Emotion - OP81 🔥

Masterlist

summary: silverstone should've been his. he raced flawlessly. controlled the field. led the damn thing. and then the stewards fucked him. now oscar piastri is furious - not outwardly, not loud, but ice-cold and razor-sharp. and the only way he can process it is by turning that precision and rage on you - by making you cum so many times your legs give out and your body begs for mercy.

warnings: angry dom!oscar, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, praise, power play, psychological domination, leg shaking, semi-rough sex, possessiveness, light restraint, emotionally charged smut, reader is unnamed/undescribed, post-race fury release, dark tone

The door barely closes before he's on you.

No words. No kiss. Just Oscar - stormy-eyed, jaw clenched, still wearing his team kit, and vibrating with something dangerous. His fingers are on your waist, in your hair, tugging your body into his like he needs proof you're real. Like he needs to break something.

You gasp his name. He doesn't answer. Just backs you into the hotel wall with cold, surgical calm, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding between your thighs like he already knows you're wet for him.

Because you are. You always are. Even when he's like this. Especially when he's like this.

"You saw it," he mutters, voice low and deadly. "You know I had it."

You nod, breathless. "I know, baby. I know."

He still doesn't kiss you. Just stares at you. Like he's studying the weak points in your armor. "They took it," he says. "They gave it to him. After everything."

You don't say Lando's name. You don't say anything.

Oscar's fingers push past your underwear, and you gasp as he finds you already soaking.

His mouth twitches. Not a smile. Something meaner.

"Of course you're wet," he murmurs. "Always so ready to let me use you."

You moan. He doesn't soften.

"You're gonna take it all," he growls. "Every bit of frustration. Every second of what they stole from me."

He sinks to his knees. His tongue is relentless. No teasing. No warm-up. Just full pressure against your clit while two fingers thrust deep inside, curling with mechanical precision.

You cry out, hands scrabbling for something to hold onto. His arm locks around your thigh, holding you open, keeping you steady while he devours you like it's his final fucking lap.

"Gonna cum?" he murmurs between strokes. "Already?"

You nod, sobbing. "Please - I'm gonna - Oscar - fuck -"

He doesn't stop. Doesn't slow down. Your orgasm hits like a fucking freight train and he holds you through it, mouth still locked to your cunt, tongue never letting up.

You try to move. To breathe. He drags you down by the hips onto the bed before you can recover.

"I didn't say we were done," he mutters.

You barely have time to gasp before he's inside you. He fucks you like he's chasing redemption. Not rushed - controlled. Precise. Brutal. Like every thrust is part of some internal strategy, some quiet revenge.

Your legs shake. Your body quakes. You've already cum again and he knows, he feels it, and he doesn't let up.

"You think I'm satisfied with that?" he snarls. "You think one little orgasm makes this better?"

You can't speak. You're sobbing his name.

He grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes to his.

"You don't get to rest," he whispers. "Not until your legs give out. Not until you can't fucking stand."

You nod. You'll take it. You'll take everything.

He flips you over, takes you from behind with ruthless control. His hand snakes between your thighs again. His fingers slide over your swollen clit, and you scream.

Your third orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave. You collapse forward, arms trembling.

Oscar pulls out. Stares down at your shaking thighs.

"You still standing?" he asks.

You don't answer. You can't.

He flips you again. "Good."

It takes four. Four orgasms. One from his mouth. Two from his cock. One from his fingers again while you're already overstimmed and twitching and begging him to stop.

When you finally go limp, legs trembling so hard you can't even kneel, he sighs like he's finally been released from hell.

Then, finally, he kisses you. Gentle. Soft. Like you're breakable. Like he hasn't just torn you apart.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your mouth. "I just... needed something. Needed a win."

You stroke his hair, still breathless, heart still pounding.

"You have me," you whisper. "That's a win."

He closes his eyes. And for the first time since Silverstone, he exhales.

[byexbyez]

hair wash day

⟡— an injured arm leaves you unable to wash your hair. luckily, your boyfriend is more than happy to help, sylus x mc/reader, domestic fluff, lots of kisses, pet names, self-indulgent, wc: 2.2K

⟡— a/n: this is a little something inspired by this post where i thought sylus would think that he could brush your curly hair dry. so this is for my peeps with curly hair routines! i know some of you have routines that take up 3 hours because of different curl patterns, porosity levels and whatnot but let’s just pretend that this is a condensed version. and if you have straight hair, be grateful that you don’t have to deal with this and keep on reading /j.

p.s. if i got the steps wrong just know that i only apply mousse and call it a day, so don’t come for me.

⟡— read on ao3.

“Come here so I can brush your hair. It’s messy.” 

You’d whack him on the head if you could. Anything and everything sets you off lately, especially with how itchy your scalp feels. You can literally feel every single hair follicle on your head—painfully. 

Before your arm had to rest in a cast, you used to wash your hair once every week, dedicating half a day to maintain your curls. It’s been well over a week and more, and your boyfriend who has set foot in your place for the first time today, now scrolling on his phone on the couch, thinks he can brush your curls dry. Completely clueless about how much time it actually takes to make your hair look remotely presentable. 

“You absolutely cannot brush my hair, Sylus.” 

Turning off his phone and chucking it between you two, he leans in, his competitive side bearing its head. “Why, you think I can’t do it?” 

“Not that. If my hair was straight, I’d let you brush it any day. You can’t brush curly hair. I mean you can, but it would look terrible and the brush would literally get stuck in there. I need to wash it first.” 

“And how are you going to do that with that arm, sweetie?” 

“I’ve been putting it off,” you admit with a  sigh, letting your head fall back against the couch.. “I don’t know, I’ll manage. I need to do it like yesterday. My head hurts and I feel disgusting. Maybe I’ll go to a hair salon tomorrow.” 

“Let me do it.” 

Your head snaps up. “You can? I mean, it takes a lot of time. You’ll be here for a while. And you’ll get tired.” 

“That just means more time with you.” His thumb gently smooths the crease between your brows, releasing the tension there. “I doubt I’ll get tired from washing your hair.” 

Oh, how wrong he was.

Sylus somehow manages to fit a chair in your cramped shower stall for you to sit. He has you tilt your head back to make washing easier, then positions himself outside the shower doors. Crouching slightly, he reaches in to turn on the water.

“You need to make sure all of my hair is wet,” you note. “it may look like it’s wet enough from the outside but the very middle part declared its independence and doesn’t want to soak up the water.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

And he does. His large hand forms a shield around your hairline, making sure water doesn’t get in your ears or eyes. You try to keep your eyes open as much as possible to see your boyfriend’s focused face, though the whole thing feels like you’re getting your hair washed in a salon, so you keep closing your eyes once in a while. Especially when Sylus lifts the shower head higher and unintentionally gets water on your forehead, despite his best efforts. 

Once he’s sure that your whole hair is thoroughly soaked, he shuts off the water. “How’s your neck?” 

“Fine.” It isn’t, the weight had started to pull on your neck towards the end, but you don’t mention it. You’re used to it. 

Sensing the white lie, he cradles the back of your neck, lifting it just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. His fingers gently squeeze the muscles beginning to tense.

He’s so considerate. 

“Now which one’s the shampoo?” 

His big hands are a gift sent from heaven, you think. Firm yet gentle, working through the stubborn itches on your scalp, even scratching behind your ears with his knuckles. If he keeps this up, you’re going to fall asleep right here.

“Sweetie, you with me?” 

“Mhm.” You melt into the chair but manage to open your heavy eyelids. “How are you so good at this? Did you do this before?” 

He meets your eyes then, an indulgent smile playing on his lips. “No, you’re the first. I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

The sound of soapy friction fills the bathroom again. You can’t take your eyes off Sylus, your gentle giant of a lover. Reaching out to cup his cheek with your free hand, you stop his fingers in your hair, distracting him from his task.

“What is it? Want to take a break?” 

“No, please continue. I just wanted to touch you,” you murmur, stroking your thumb across his cheek. “let you know I appreciate you.” 

When your thumb presses down on the corner of his mouth, he bends down, and your lips are already puckered, eager to welcome the tender kiss. 

“Is this how you usually treat your hairstylist?” he chuckles against your lips. “Does seduction get you a discount?” 

Playing along, you smirk and hook your index finger to the collar of his shirt. “I only seduce the ones who are stupidly good-looking. You’re the first.” 

He grabs your hand from his collar, raises it to kiss it, forgetting the shampoo coating his fingers. “Using my lines against me, huh?”

The second round of shampoo is even more touchy. You nearly poke his nostril. Nearly. He keeps your finger away by pretending to bite it. “Behave.” 

“But I love your nose,” you whine. 

After the shampoo is rinsed off, you can feel the hanging weight of a big clump. Of course, your hair was a tangled mess, with how long you’ve put off washing it. You tell Sylus to reach for the detangling brush and he spends a good minute trying to choose the correct brush from the rack. 

His first mistake is starting from the roots of your hair. He was too quick for you to catch on. 

“Ow! No, that’s not—start from the ends, please. And work your way up until you can smoothly brush it down.” 

A kiss to your forehead again. “Sorry, sweetie. That was stupid of me.” 

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.” 

This part takes forever because Sylus diligently plucks the dead hair from the brush after each stroke, making sure nothing is preventing him from smoothing your hair down, asking every now and then if he’s hurting you. 

“Look at how much hair you shed. You’d think I brushed a cat.” He straightens his back. Even if he feels a strain, he doesn’t let it show on his face. “The next step is conditioner, right?” 

“Yup,” you hum. “right next to the shampoo.” 

Cupping the back of your neck with both hands, he lifts it carefully, alleviating your own strain. “Let’s take a break first.” 

“Tired this soon?” you tease. 

“I don’t need a break, sweetie. But you do.” You think he’s about to kiss you again when he leans in, warm breath brushing your lips, his eyes low and intent. “You haven’t had water for a while.” 

And he leaves you there waiting with a pout while he gets a glass of water. 

After that, Sylus thinks you’re finally ready to sit upright. The conditioner only needs to be applied to the ends, after all. But trying to explain that you still need to bend your neck? That’s a sport in itself. 

Bottle in hand, he tilts his head. “I don’t understand. What’s the catch?”

“I usually do this step with my head upside down. Since I can’t do that now, I still need to throw my hair back, so you can do it for me.” 

“Upside down?” His confusion is adorable. However, thinking about the bajillion steps that still remain after the shower, you take a deep breath. 

“Yes, with my hair in front of my face. For volume. Otherwise my roots stay flat. Now lightly squeeze the water out. Not all of it. We still need moisture—no, not like a towel!” 

You teach him the praying hands method, he’s appalled by the amount of conditioner in his palms. “Sweetie, are you sure you need this much product? This is almost half of the bottle.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now you know where all my money goes.” 

He looks at the brand name on the bottle, making a mental note to stock it up for you. 

“Okay, thank you.” You bat your eyelashes at him, luring him in for a smooch. He obliges immediately, a big wet smack sound echoes in the bathroom. 

The following step is scrunching the hair up to the roots with the excess product left on his hands. Yet again, he’s confused about why you need to do this. For the curls to form, of course. 

“And when you scrunch all the way up, keep squeezing but not too hard.” 

“Not too hard…” He murmurs to himself. 

You skip the hair mask, because you’ve already been in the shower long enough, and tell Sylus to find a soft cotton T-shirt instead of a towel for drying, after he rinses about seventy percent of the conditioner out. Gotta keep the moisture, after all.

You’re sitting on the floor, pillows propping you up against the couch. Laid out in front of you on the coffee table are a spray bottle, leave-in curl cream, mousse, gel, oil, a curl brush, claw clips, and a dryer with the diffuser attachment. A handheld mirror rests in your hand. 

Once he’s finished taking pictures of each product—including the different brushes and the diffuser attachment, “since you’ll need them back at the base”—Sylus settles behind you on the couch, legs bracketing you as he gets comfortable.   

You guide him through the next steps: clip your hair into sections, begin with the bottom strands, mist them with water, and smooth in the curl cream. Later, he’d be applying mousse. The gel cast step is skipped. You’re not in the mood for that kind of commitment today.

He picks up the brush with the odd indents, combs through the section, then shakes the strands gently between his thumb and index finger.

Voilà. The curl forms on its own.

“If you tried this on straight hair, it wouldn’t hold,” you explain while he’s still figuring out how to flip the brush properly. “But this way, the curls last about a week.” You tilt the mirror higher, amused as his elegant long fingers wrestle with the brush. 

His lips brush your temple as he asks, “You really do this every week?”

“If I have to be perceived by people—which is always—then yes.”

Sure, it takes him twice as long as it would take you, but the quiet “Poor thing,” he mutters, followed by another kiss to your temple while you watch through the mirror, makes it more than worth it.

Eventually, the styling phase is over. Time to diffuse. Your least favorite. Yay. 

“This thing looks like a space weapon,” he says, inspecting the diffuser attachment like he would a gun. 

“It sure does drain my life,” you groan, using his knee as leverage to stand.

Here you are again, head thrown back in the chair, while Sylus butchers the tune with a grin:

“Rapunzel, let down your haaaair.”

You squint your eyes at him. “I’ll see you with your sore arm when you’re done, mister.” 

With the dryer on the lowest setting (two words from you: “heat damage”), your hair nearly takes one hour to fully dry. Sylus does not complain one bit, keeps humming a tune. Relaxed but focused. 

The final step is softening the curls with a bit of oil by scrunching again. 

“We are done?” 

You laugh. “Why do you sound disappointed?” 

“With the way you were exaggerating, I thought it would take longer.” 

“Well, we skipped a couple of steps.” 

His hand comes to rest over his heart as he gasps mockingly. “When I asked you to teach me everything? You wound me.” 

“Next time,” you promise. “You know I’m stuck in this cast for a while.” 

“Plenty of time to perfect the routine.” He nods. Coming to stand in front of you, he examines his work, seemingly satisfied with the result. 

“Do you prefer cash or credit, sir?” 

Gripping the back of your chair, his mouth is on yours again. A content sigh escapes his lips when he pulls back. “My preferred form of payment is cuddles, miss. No discount.” 

Your fingers dive into the hair at his nape, scratching affectionately as they drift toward his ears. You roll and pinch his earlobe. Just because. 

(It’s so soft.) 

With the perfect amount of pressure, he begins to massage your neck. 

“I’m so down,” you whisper against his lips. “How about we cuddle, order food, watch a movie, cuddle some more… and then you stay the night?” 

“I was waiting for you to ask.” 

Later, curled up on his chest and halfway across his lap, you drift off to the sounds coming from the movie. His nose rests in the crown of your head as he murmurs, “You smell divine, sweetie.”

“Thanks to you.” 

“Don’t hesitate to ask me for help,” he says gently. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

His voice, quiet and warm, draws you back from the edge of sleep. You giggle. “Okay, I’ll call you next week for a hair wash. You asked for it, don’t regret it later.” 

“I never would.” 

“Big words,” you sneer. 

He nuzzles deeper into your freshly washed hair and presses a kiss into it, almost without thinking. “You know what I learned today?”

“Hm?” 

“That I need to think twice before ruffling your hair again.” 

“It’s okay. You get a free pass.” You turn your head toward him and meet his ruby eyes. A beat, maybe two, passes in silence before your smile takes over. “Thank you Sylus, I needed this.”

[chanbig]

tumblr wont let me tag you on a new post but I will always elaborate on chanbig shibari 😏

my friend told me about her idea of big going back to his and chan's room on his birthday and chan is there, tied up like a present just for him, having learned how to do some shibari knots on himself. and it made me think if chan wasnt already tied up but wanted big to do it for him.

and I was like big would love it as a treat, especially if normally when they tie each other up, its much more functional as a restraint (one of the perks of being a bodyguard is being very quick and efficient with ropes 😏) but maybe he had seen pictures of shibari somewhere and maybe chan even did it for him a couple of times, but he hadn't gotten the opportunity to see chan restrained with it. and i thought of this photo

and I think big would find it very hot if chan gave him the rope and he got to be the one to tie chan up, chan sitting very still for him as he wraps the rope around his chest, pulling his hands behind his back, chan just looking up at him as he ties the rope around chans wrists. And he knows chan has been captured and restrained before by their enemies, but he's very calm now with big, closing his eyes as big brushes his hands through his hair and down his shoulders, tracing the edge of the ropes very lightly, and he can see chan is already getting hard, just from this. and he feels very powerful, almost drunk with it, his heart beating hard in his chest, because he wants this, and chan wants this too, wants to hand over control to him for a while, which from chan means so much. and there's the thought that he could do anything to chan, which makes him dizzy, but what he wants is to give chan the same experience chan gives him, when hes the one tied up - the feeling that his trust is in the right hands with big, that he can let go, and big will take control and give him everything he wants

AND NOW I NEED TO DRAW IT or write it or somethinggg aahhhhhh

you are morally ethicallyand spiritually obligated. to think about gay sex on the clock

[alpaca-clouds]

Reading through a lot of Superman posts here, and I realize that a lot of people here (especially younger folks) do not know the story of how James Gunn got to be the head of DC-movies. Because... Yeah, I saw people calling him apolitical. And the entire thing is, that... he is anything but.

But also this story is wonderul and I love it, because it shows that sometimes Karma really works.

So, you know probably that James Gunn did the Guardians of the Galaxy movies, right? And like many directors that Marvel Studios hired at the time he was not quite a big director at the time. He had done a couple of bigger projects compared to folks like Taika Waititi or Ryan Coogler, given that Gunn was a writer for Dawn of the Dead and the Scooby Doo live action movies, but he had not directed anything outside of Indie stuff. But at the time the MCU was hiring a lot of indie darlings.

Now, the other thing you need to know: James Gunn is one of the rare instances of a white cis guy, who starts out very edgy and often misogynist, and queerphobic, and then realizes this before there is a scandal, rethinks his ways and publically apologizes. Like, early on he was pretty shitty. But he basically had his change of heart around 2012 and ever since had been pretty progressive in his politics.

So, he did the first two Guardians movies, and the people working with him (actors, staffers and so on) loved working with him. Said he was a good director. BUT also Gunn was one of those people who online would not shut up about his political opinions. Which very much included calling out Donald Trump and other rightwing pundits on their BS.

Which lead to some folks losely connected to the GamerGate movement - and big, big Snyder-verse DC fans - planning an attack. Mind you, them being Snyder fans is kinda ironic because Snyder and Gunn are good friends.

But yeah, they were among the kind of people who loved Trump and Snyder's dark and egdy Superman and for them James Gunn with his lighthearted, positive Superhero takes, his criticism of toxic men, and his criticism especially of Trump and his cronies was everything wrong with Hollywood and modern superhero media.

So, just as ComicCon 2018 was getting started they posted stuff online. Mostly a collection of screenshots from tweet Gunn had made before 2012. Aka, before he realized that toxic masculinity was shitty. These tweet (which he had not delected) included rape jokes, including CSA jokes, and jokes about the Holocaust. Again, all things he had apologized for repeatedly and unpromptedly back in 2012 and 2013.

But because it was SDCC, everyone was talking about it now, and media was all over it, the heads at Disney got cold feet and fired him before the con was over.

Which lead to outrage... from the left. Because most more progressive movie fans knew that Gunn had long apologized for this stuff. And the main actors who had worked with him on GotG 1 and 2 basically said: "We will not do GotG 3 without Gunn, even if it means we have to pay millions to Disney, for breaking our contracts." (Judgement is out on whether or not they would have done it, but they definitely threatened it.)

But the board of Disney was a bunch of cowards so they did not say anything. For months.

And during those months the folks at Warner were looking at it and came to Gunn: "Say, if you could just take any DC property and make a comic book movie out of it. What would it be?" And Gunn went: "I would make a good Suicide Squad movie." And Warner was: "Okay, here you go."

Which lead to Gunn making The Suicide Squad. Which was one of the better performing and especially better rated DCU movies.

By the time the movie got released Disney had seen the errors of their ways and rehired Gunn for GotG 3.

Which then got shot. But while it was in production Warner was realizing that right now their DC stuff was not working and struggled to find an audience. So they decided they needed someone to actually properly lead the project. Ideally someone who loved comics, and who people liked working with...

Which led them to decide on Gunn (together with another guy, who also is a director).

So then... Gunn got to make all the DC movies he wanted. Including those that were full of his political opinions. That by now are very much focused on toxic masculinity and how it harms people, on the issues of marginalized groups, and so on.

To sum it up: Some right wing nutjobs tried to get Gunn removed from GotG 3, partially because they wanted all comic book movies to be dark, gritty, and toxically masculine. And it ended with Gunn getting the control over the DC movies, putting his politics, that those right wing nuts hated, into those as well.

Karma is a bitch and I love her. :D

Also, you know what? I do not like Snyder's movies. But by now i have been convinced that despite the way his movies look, he is actually not a rigth wing nut-job. And actually, I kinda would like to see a movie written by someone more Gunn-aligned but directed by Snyder. Again, those two are good friends. So I could totally see that work.

[joyswonderland1108]

🪞💍 JIKOOK LIVE REPORT – JULY 14TH: CHAOS, LIP BALM, AND UNHOLY VIBES (Part 1)

Note: This post might, once again, be very messy. And by "might" I mean "definitely." But we’re working with slightly more structure this time because I’m writing this while actually watching the live. Yes. In real-time. Reporting from the trenches. HOWEVER, because Tumblr hates joy and limits media posts to one video per post (how very anti-Jikook of you, Tumblr), I’ll be attaching what I can—screenshots, links, whatever unhinged content Twitter has to offer. Bear with me. It’s gonna be another Very Chaotic Jikook Post™.

✨ Opening Scene: Empty Chairs, “Still Life,” and Off-Camera Giggles

Imagine opening the live and the first thing you see is two empty chairs. Okay, Shakespeare. You’re telling me Jikook ghosted us for a whole month, then decided to make their ✨grand return✨ by giving us 15 seconds of symbolic empty chairs while “Still Life” by RM plays in the background? Poetic cinema. Give them Oscars.

AND THEN—you hear them giggling. GIGGLING. From off-frame. Like, sir? Are you telling me you pressed “go live” then hid behind the camera to laugh in sync before appearing like two twinks in a sitcom intro? Are you kidding me?

Then, finally, they grace the screen. The chaotic gay duo themselves. I was not ready.

🪙 The Silver Day Coincidence (or… not)

Oh, and did I mention? This live happened on July 14th, also known in Korea as... Silver Day. You know, that totally casual and not loaded with meaning couples' holiday where people exchange silver jewelry as a sign of commitment.

COMMITMENT. SILVER. COUPLES. JIKOOK. Tell me again how everything is a coincidence—I dare you. Literally ghosted for a month then pop up on a couples' holiday like “hey besties 😊” with matching soul energy? Yeah okay.

🍱 Time Zones, Lies, and Bro Hugs That Aren’t Bro Hugs

Jimin, soft-voiced and bright-eyed, says it’s lunchtime in Korea. Lovely! Thank you for sharing. But BOY—it was 5 A.M. for me. I was in REM stage 4, face smashed into my pillow, dreaming of simpler times. I woke up to find out that I missed THE LIVE OF THE CENTURY because our gay icons decided to go live during breakfast. I’m suing. Actually, i forgive you, because love is blind and I’m a clown.

Also, Jimin just casually throws in, “It’s been a while.” OH, YOU THINK? You made us all emotionally dependent on your chaotic duo lives and then dipped for a whole month like you were never here. But of course, all is forgiven. Because... they were together. So.. I'll allow it.

🤝 Let’s Talk About That Hug

So not even THREE MINUTES into the live and what do we get? A hug. Not just any hug. Not a side-pat. Not a “bro” arm grab. No. Jungkook hooks his chin on Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin cradles JK’s head like a precious Victorian orphan.

YEAH. Just “bros being bros,” right? Very heterosexual. June ended but these two renewed their pride subscription for the next 12 months. Auto-renewal ON. Jikook said Pride is a year-long membership and they are now on the deluxe gay tier with free rainbow refills. This is what we mean when we say “soft launch wedding content.”

💬 JK Says It’s “More Comfortable” With Just the Two of Them

Jungkook then has the NERVE to say doing lives with just the two of them is “more comfortable.” Oh, so you’re comfortable now? You’re feeling good? Relaxed? In your element? Cozy, even?

HUH. Why is he always proving the “JK is being forced” weirdos wrong so quickly? Like clockwork. “It’s more comfortable,” he says. Okay, homo. 🙄

💄 Lip balm: The Erotic Tale 🫦

This is where I start losing grip on reality.

JK goes off-screen to grab his lip balm. Normal. Fine. Then he comes back and starts hovering around Jimin, he decides Jimin’s lips are dry (they weren’t), like, “Hmm... maybe you need lip balm too 😏.” He literally tries to APPLY IT for him. Sir. If you want to kiss just say that. There’s no need for this oily, waxy foreplay.

🍝 “It Was Just Us Home Today”

They tell us today was their day off and the members all went out, so it was just Jikook at home. Oh and “someone from protocol.” Because apparently someone at HYBE realized you cannot leave Jikook alone in a house with WiFi and a camera.

Jikook being unsupervised = live going feral in under 10 minutes. Even WITH a staff member present, it was still giving “we’re two seconds away from kissing on camera.” Whose idea was this? Someone give that staff member a raise for witnessing the most rainbow-coded hour of BTS history.

🖼️ The Picture Segment (aka Emotional Damage)

Jikook, being the unserious duo they are, decide to show us very flattering pics of themselves. The type you’d normally bury in your camera roll under 12 folders. But they just show them. Proudly. JK even recreates the same pose from one of them ON CAMERA. Like. Boy.

But the real mystery: there was a photo they refused to show us. Like “oops no can’t show that one teehee.” JIMIN. WHAT. WAS. IT. You can’t just dangle forbidden content like that. My imagination is already conjuring scenarios. And none of them are safe for work.

🎤 JK Singing, Chest Touching, Pinky Promises, Oh My

Okay. JK watches Jimin sleep. Films him sleeping. Jimin tells us this ON LIVE. With a smile. Like it’s a cute anecdote.

Sir. That’s an AO3 summary. I’ve read this fic. It’s tagged “soft yandere Jungkook” and “obsessed but in love.”

Then, JK starts singing to Jimin. Touches his chest. Again. Like that’s just a regular Friday thing. They make pinky promises with all the intensity of a vow renewal ceremony. Honestly, at this point they might as well call their lives The Real Housewives of Bangtan: Jikook Edition.

🛍️ Shopping with Yoongi and Joon & The Inspection™

Jimin shares a wholesome little story about shopping with Yoongi and Namjoon. JK wasn't there but from what I understood, he might have wanted to go. In any case, Jimin went, came back with stuff, and JK—like the curious man he is—asks about it.

But here’s the thing: JK doesn’t just ask with his mouth. No no. He touches Jimin’s chest to “inspect” if the top is the one he bought. Jungkook-ssi. There are other ways to verify a shirt. But you chose hands-on validation. Bold of you.

https://x.com/13_KM_13/status/1944819903384387955

💬 The "Invasion of Privacy" Rant We Needed

And then—serious moment—Jikook called out the fact that people tried to access their accounts. 😐

Some clowns tried to dig into their accounts like it’s a game of The Sims. The calm, deadpan way they said, “There’s no more info to find anyway,” is both iconic and depressing. Translation: Y’all ain’t gonna find what you think you’re gonna find. Like… why are y’all like this? Are you so desperate to “prove” something that you’re willing to literally break the law? News flash: that’s an actual CRIME. And if HYBE ever decides to press charges? Bye jail.

Leave their privacy alone. Jimin and JK have already had enough of that line crossed. Be normal for once.

🎶 JK Plays “Golden” and Jimin Immediately Goes Into Defense Mode

JK plays Golden by K-pop Demon Hunters and the moment it starts, Jimin goes: “But Jungkook did it first!!! 😤” BABE. No one even accused anyone of copying yet. You were READY. Standing up for your man before anyone even opened their mouth. Iconic behavior.

JK just says: “If it’s good, it’s good.” Like the chillest, most supportive boyfriend ever. Yin and yang, honestly.

💀 The Comment Section Was a War Zone

Before i forget, let’s talk about those damn comments.

Some Cultist typed: “CHEATER JUNGKOOK.” Because he was doing a live with Jimin instead of Tae. I am not joking. Another wrote: “Jungkook please tell me you miss Taehyung.”

GUYS. WHAT. This is not a custody battle. Jikook being in a live together does not mean someone is cheating, dying, or divorcing. This is not a breakup announcement. Why are you acting like Tae is trapped in a basement?

Y’all need to go outside. Drink some water. Smell a flower.

🔚 Cliffhanger Ending Because I’m Dramatic Like That

Anyway. That was only Part 1. The live is almost 2 hours long and I haven’t even covered half of it. So yes, I’m pulling a Netflix and ending this post on a cliffhanger. Stay tuned for Part 2, which will arrive when my soul recovers and my brain stops buffering. (Actually my back hurts and my ass is flat now)

Will it be tomorrow? Probably. Will it be even more chaotic? Definitely. Will Jikook continue to act like we’re watching their honeymoon vlog? Without a doubt.

[thewosocollective1]

Tired Hearts

Leah williamson x reader

It was 11:43 p.m., and the baby had been crying for what felt like hours.

Leah hadn’t returned from the match yet. 

Delays, post-game press, probably traffic

And it seemed like the cries were getting louder and louder 

 All logical things—but tonight logic had no power against the wave of raw emotion tearing through y/n.

Y/n paced the nursery in circles, arms aching, eyelids heavy with fatigue and frustration. Her body begged to collapse, but the wails only grew louder no matter how she bounced or whispered or sang through her cracked voice.

The room felt suffocating. Toys scattered everywhere, bottles half-clean on the counter downstairs, laundry forgotten in the hallway. .

She pressed the baby against her chest, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. “Please, please settle…” Her voice trembled. “I’m so tired.And if you don’t stop crying i’m going to cry with you, we are both tired my love so please sleep”

The crying persisted—high-pitched, relentless. Every sound pierced through her like needles. Hormones flared, guilt twisted in her stomach. I’m not enough.

Just as the desperation reached its peak and y/n nearly sank to the floor in exhaustion, the front door creaked open.

“Y/n?” Leah called out gently.

Silence fell for the first time.

Y/n didn’t answer, too overwhelmed to respond. Leah climbed the stairs quickly, her boots barely kicked off, and stepped into the nursery, face flushed from the game, eyes scanning y/n and the red-faced baby.

Without hesitation, Leah crossed the room and reached for both of them, wrapping her arms around y/n and cradling the baby expertly.

“Give her to me,” Leah whispered. “You need to breathe.”

“She doesn't fall asleep, she just cries louder and louder, I don't know what to do with her anymore.”

Y/n hesitated, then released the baby into Leah’s arms like surrendering a piece of her soul. The moment she let go, her knees buckled. Leah caught her instantly.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured. “I’ve always got you.”

They sat together on the nursery floor, the baby finally calming in Leah’s arms, the gentle rise and fall of her breath syncing with theirs. Y/n clung to Leah’s shoulder, sobbing quietly.

“I didn’t mean to fall apart,” she said, voice muffled.

Leah kissed her hair. “You’re not falling apart. You’re surviving. And that’s brave.”

The baby yawned, finally asleep. 

“I’m scared… I feel so lost.” she snapped. “You don’t know. I’m exhausted. My body hurts. I’m drowning in responsibilities, training schedules, and hormones that make me want to scream and cry at the same time—and you just breeze through with your calm voice and your stupid herbal teas, and she cries all night when you’re not here and then suddenly you appear after hours trying to calm her down and she falls asleep as soon as she falls into your arms .”

Leah’s jaw clenched. “’I’m her mother also, it’s normal that she also calms down with me and if You think I’m breezing through this, I’m not. But I’m trying. Trying to hold the line so you don’t have to.”

“I don’t need you to hold the line. I need you to see me falling apart.”

The words hit hard. Leah stepped back as if physically struck, eyes wide, the hurt plain across her face. But then she came forward slowly, kneeling down beside y/n, placing a hand on her trembling knee.

“I see you,” Leah whispered. “Every version. The exhausted one. The angry one. The one who cried silently while holding our baby. I see all of her, and I love her more fiercely every time.But it's scary to have such a small human being to care for, educate and ensure safety, I'm also tired of all the sleepless nights and everything”

Tears flooded y/n’s eyes, her breathing shallow. “I feel like I’m losing myself…”

Leah didn’t flinch. “Then we find you again. Together. Even if it’s messy. Even if you hate my voice sometimes.”

The air felt lighter, as if the storm had passed.

“ It irritates me that she looks so much like you and I was the one who carried her for nine months and had all the pain”

“ Oh come on she is beautiful look at her “ Leah said looking at the baby in her arms “At least she has your personality “

“ I don’t know if that’s a good think babe “

“It’s not, but she is just like you, just calm down and sleep with me rubbing her back”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully

“I missed you so much tonight,” y/n whispered.

“I’m never really gone,” Leah replied softly, brushing the hair from her partner’s damp forehead. “You’re my home, no matter how loud or messy things get. And I’ll always come back to you.”

[cuppochino]

hello!! I really enjoyed your shed / Telamon HC post, but I’d love to know more. In your hcs, how / why did 1x4 get created, and what happened to him? Also, why is shed ashamed of his past as Telamon? (I just don’t see many people take that approach to the two of them, I think it’s a cool one)

YAPFEST INCOMING‼️

How/why did 1x4 get created?

Basically, Builderman had been struggling to get the spawn point working properly for a while. Telamon, being close friends w/ him, was enlisted to help out. One day, Telamon was experimenting with the spawn point to fix it/get it to work (trying to summon something using the first brick as reference) and… lo and behold, accidentally ended up creating 1x4 right in the middle of it!

1x4’s creation was spontaneous, unplanned, and I think Telamon knew deep down he wasn’t emotionally-equipped to properly take care of him.

What happened to him?

this is kinda already explained via the lore post,, years of neglect and a cursed crown is what did it <//3 anyway, here’s the gradual corruption of 1x4 appearance-wise^^

(in reference to his actual avatar changes throughout the years)

Why is Shedletsky ashamed of his past as Telamon?

GOOOODD QUESTIONNN!!!💖💖💖

Yes, he had a lot of power as Telamon, and anybody would want to be in his position… but given how important of a figure Telamon was for Robloxia, he was also burdened with a lot of decisions. He had to make sure things were running smoothly, and that unfortunately means not everybody is happy — efficiency over convenience.

- Telamon’s workaholic attitude often made him neglect his own needs and the needs of those closest to him (1x4 is the most tragic example of this) — he was very serious, and did not have many friends outside of Roblox HQ

- YET, the straw that broke the camel’s back? -> 1x4’s betrayal.

- it’s what seriously made him reconsider if he wanted this for himself, to be an admin… (to which he decided that he would be happier without working as one)

- that is why he donned a new name: Shedletsky —to separate himself from the past, and why he drastically changes his appearance, so majority of people dont know/recognize him as an ex-admin

- although he’s unable to completely remove all his wings (only the head ones), hence why he just tends to hide them in his hair

- it’s also a big reason why the present/forsaken Shedletsky is incredibly laidback, aloof, and does not like to dwell/trouble himself with things often (the polar opposite of Telamon!)… aside from all his hatred being absorbed by the domino crown

[manonsmartini]

Maniac III: You Just Went Too Far

✒️ exes to strangers · underage drinking · emotional spiral · public outing · drunk driving · car crash · angst · mutual hurt/pining · katseye!dani · indie singer!reader

Summary: After the release of your breakout hit Maniac, the last thing you expected was for the world to figure out who it was about. But now it’s everywhere—fans piecing together the truth, and Daniela forced to face a love she tried to bury. While you remain silent, she spirals. She watches the video. She rereads your messages, and in the quiet dark, memories crashes hard—back to the night she wrecked her car, drunk and broken, and called you just to ask if you’d take her back.

But you didn’t, because sometimes, love isn’t enough. (2.2k words)

previous

“Please hold me?” Daniela asks the girl who was sprawled out on her bed, lounging while scrolling through her phone, “Please? I’m cold, lonely, and did I mention cold?”

The girl rolls her eyes before answering, “Just say you’re touch starved and go.”

The latina’s jaw falls in shock at her leader’s words, “Go cuddle someone else, Dani,” Sophia turns in her bed, facing away.

Yoonchae stares at the pair before light-heartedly addressing the blonde, “Bother someone else, Dani.”

Daniela slumps her shoulder in defeat before retreating back into her shared room.

“Let me guess, they kicked you out?” Manon says amusement was evident in her voice. Daniela playfully rolls her eyes before responding, “I wasn’t even loud this time, I just wanted to cuddle.”

Her roommate studies her frame for a second before opening her arms, gesturing her to come closer, “Come here,” Daniela’s eyes light up with joy, already on her way towards the girl before replying, “Wait really?”

Manon immediately closes her arms, laughing, “No, not really. Go cuddle with Lara, I’m sure she’d like that.”

Daniela grabs the nearest discarded shirt on the floor before throwing it at her roommate, “DANIELA!” Manon screams, grabbing the shirt and is about to throw it back to the blonde but she quickly exits the room, heading towards Megara’s room.

“I have arrived,” The blonde says, grandiosely. Lara puts down her phone, looking at the blonde who just barged in, “Hey, Dani.”

Daniela immediately lunged forward, tackling the girl in a hug, “Oh I guess someone’s touch starved.”

The latina grumbles loudly, “Ugh why is everyone saying that, I am literally not.”

Lara softens at the weight against her, “You’re literally lying on top of me.”

“You love it,” Daniela mumbles into her shoulder. The older girl just laughs, adjusting a pillow so they’re both more comfortable.

She didn’t mean to make the rounds like some affection-starved puppy. But everything felt colder lately. Ever since she heard that song.

“Guess what’s trending again,” Megan says, walking into the room with a popsicle in hand, “That ‘Maniac’ song.”

Daniela stiffens where she lay. Lara doesn’t notice it at first—too busy complaining that Megan didn’t bring enough for everyone.

“You’ve been streaming that track like crazy, Megan,” Manon teases, now leaning against the doorframe, “Got it on repeat or something?”

“I don’t even like it that much,” Megan shrugs. “It’s just—y’know—it’s got this bite to it. Like someone’s pissed. It’s kinda hot, and so is the singer.”

Sophia appears next, her phone out, “You guys—look at this thread. Some fan just did a deep dive and—”

She cuts herself off mid-sentence, eyes flicking to Daniela, “Okay, nevermind.”

Daniela sits up slowly. Her stomach is already turning, “What?” she asks, voice small.

Sophia exchanges a glance with Manon, hesitant, “It’s… a theory,” she starts carefully, “About the song.”

“What song?” Daniela says, even though she already knows what Sophia is hinting at.

“Maniac,” Sophia replies, her tone gentle, “They think… it’s about you.”

Daniela goes still.

Megan shifts in her seat, “It’s kind of blowing up. Like, they matched dates. Screenshots of your bar photos, even fan posts. There’s one where you’re in the background during her set.”

Sophia speaks, “And the lyrics, Dani…” her voice softens. “They’re not just angry. They’re… really sad, too.”

Manon finally speaks, “So… were you actually… together?”

A heavy silence falls over the room. Daniela’s face is carefully neutral, but her knuckles are white where they grip the edge of the bed, “No.”

But her voice cracks. She stands abruptly, “I need air.”

No one stops her. The door shuts behind her with a soft click. A beat passes.

“Shit,” Lara whispers.

Outside, on the balcony, Daniela’s hands tremble as she lights a cigarette she won’t even smoke. She just needs something to hold. Something to blame for the shaking.

She thought it was buried, that you had moved on—that she had. Except you didn’t just move on; you immortalized her in a song that was now a hit.

And worse? It was true. All of it. The ghosting. The betrayal. The denial.

Her hands rub over her face, makeup smudging.

Deep down she knew that it wasn’t just a song.

It was a confession of everything she never had the guts to say out loud; of every time she told you to be quiet, of every lie she fed herself to keep her career clean, of every kiss that meant something but had to be erased. Now the world knew. And suddenly, the silence she asked of you for years…

Is screaming back at her in surround sound.

Later that night, in the dorm lounge

The girls of KATSEYE are gathered again, curled up on the couch, the laptop’s glow illuminating their faces. The room is quiet, save for the low hum of the “Maniac” music video playing on YouTube.

The video is raw. Grainy. Almost vintage in its look. A house party. Dim lights. Teenagers laughing, drinking, whispering behind red solo cups.

There’s a girl on stage, guitar in hand, voice trembling. Another girl—blonde, radiant, half-lit by neon—leans against a wall, pretending not to watch.

It’s not just the lyrics that hit. It’s the way it all looks… familiar.

Sophia leans closer, “Wait.”

Manon squints, “Is that…?”

Megan tilts her head, “No way—”

Lara’s voice is soft but certain, “That girl looks exactly like Dani.”

On-screen, the blonde in the video is surrounded by other girls—one tossing her hair like Hailey, the others look like Daniela’s entire clique from her high school years.

They all turn at once. Daniela is standing in the doorway. Hair tied up, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. She looks exhausted, like the truth has been clawing at her all day.

But this time, she doesn’t run. She takes a shaky breath, “It’s about me,” she says, eyes wide open, “All of it.”

No one moves as the truth settles in, “The party,” Daniela continues, “The lies. The things I said. The things I didn’t say.”

She looks at them, voice barely above a whisper, “I broke her. And she wrote the truth.”

The laptop screen flickers behind them—

“…People like you always want back what they can't have butI'm past that and you know that…”

Sophia gets up slowly, crossing the room. She doesn’t say anything, she simply pulls Daniela into a hug. The rest follow—not to pry, not to judge—just to be there. A silent chorus of understanding.

Daniela closes her eyes, and for the first time since the song dropped, she lets herself feel every word.

The dorm is quiet—too quiet.

Daniela sits alone in the living room, her knees pulled up to her chest, laptop open in front of her. The screen glows softly against the darkness, casting harsh light on tear-swollen eyes and a clenched jaw.

She plays the “Maniac” MV again. For the fifth time. Maybe the sixth. She’s lost count.

Grainy footage. A bar stage. A girl with a voice like static-soaked heartbreak. And those lines—God, those fucking lines.

“Tell all your friends that I’m crazy and drive you mad…”

Daniela flinches, because she did. She really did.

She laughed with her friends, let them say things about you she never even believed. Parroted their words to keep herself safe. Called you obsessed. Pretended she wasn’t afraid of what you meant to her.

And now, she’s the punchline.

The video ends again, and this time, she doesn’t hit replay. Her eyes stay fixed on the final frame—your silhouette walking out of frame, guitar case in hand.

It’s too quiet again.

She closes the laptop and reaches for her phone. Opens your old messages. Scrolls.

you’re cute when you’re sleepy.

don’t forget your charger, dumbass.

i miss you already. drive safe, please.

Daniela rereads them, slowly, like a prayer; like it’s penance. She’d give anything to go back—to take back the nights she made you feel like a secret, like a mistake. To rewind before her words betrayed her. Before you stopped smiling when you looked at her.

But this isn’t a story she can rewrite. So the guilt just eats at her slowly. It piles on top of the fear.

The label wants them silent. Management tells her to lay low, deactivate, disappear.

And the girls—some don’t even look at her the same way. Some try, but can’t hide the shift. She brought shame to something bigger than herself.

But none of it compares to the weight she’s already been carrying, of what she’s always carried, because this isn’t the first time she let everything crash and burn.

It wasn’t the first time she spiraled. Not the first time she picked up the phone and dialed your number in the dark.

It was late then, too. Almost 3 A.M. The sky cracked with thunder as your phone lit up, buzzing with a name you’d tried to forget…

Daniela Avanzini.

The name you still hadn’t changed in your contacts. The photo, a candid you took when she was asleep, still smiled back at you.

You didn’t answer. You stared at the screen, heart in your throat, fingers twitching. You hadn’t heard her voice in days. Not since you told her to never contact you again. Not since you watched her ride away in that Uber with red-rimmed eyes and a crushed flower in her pocket.

You almost silenced the phone when it rang again. But this time, you picked up, “Hello?”

There was static. Shuffling. Breathing. Then—her voice, “I—I miss you,” Daniela slurred.

You sat up in bed, “Daniela? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” she breathed, “I think I messed up. I messed everything up. Can I… can I come over?”

“No,” you said quickly, automatically, “Dani, where are you?”

There was a long pause. Then, a wet sniffle, “I was just driving. And I saw this tree, and I remembered that stupid time you said it looked like a mushroom. And I… I don’t know. I didn’t mean to—”

“Wait, what do you mean were driving?” Your voice rose, heart pounding.

There was a dull thud on her end, followed by the unmistakable sound of a car door creaking open.

“I hit it,” she said, quietly, “I think I hit the tree.”

You bolted upright, “What?! Are you hurt?”

“No,” she whispered, almost like a child. “But I—I need you. Please. I don’t care if you hate me. Just say you don’t.”

Your heart cracked at the desperation in her voice, “Daniela, text me your location. Now. Don’t hang up. Just… stay with me, okay?”

But she didn’t send her location. She went silent for a few minutes. You paced the floor, shoes already on, grabbing your keys, ready to leave without a plan.

Then she spoke again, “I’m home now.”

“What?”

“I… I drove off,” Daniela said, voice barely coherent. “Car’s fine. I’m fine. I made it. You don’t have to worry. Just forget I called, okay?”

“Daniela—”

Click. You stared at your screen in horror. You showed up at her place twenty minutes later anyway.

She didn’t look surprised when she saw you standing on her front porch, soaked in rain, worry carved into every inch of your face. Her hair was a mess. Her mascara was smudged. Her knuckles were red. Her Mustang sat crooked in the driveway with a new dent on the hood. She opened the door without a word.

“Let me see you,” you said. She stepped back, letting you in. Neither of you said anything for a moment. Then Daniela turned to you, her voice trembling. “You came.”

You looked at her—at her bloodshot eyes, her shaking hands, the familiar pout she wore when she was afraid. You hated that she still looked beautiful. You hated that you still cared, “I thought you might be hurt.”

Her voice cracked, “I am hurt.”

You swallowed hard, “Not like that.”

Daniela stepped forward, her voice suddenly clear despite the alcohol still in her system, “Please. Just let me hold you.”

You stepped back.

She flinched, “You still love me.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?” she asked, voice rising, “You came. You care. Just say it. Say you still want this—us. I’ll fix it. I swear, I’ll fix everything. I won’t lie again. I’ll tell the truth this time. Please, just give me another chance.”

Tears welled in your eyes, “You don’t get it, do you?”

Daniela blinked.

“You already had everything,” you whispered, “And you threw it away for some cheap performance. For people who don’t even know you. You didn’t just hurt me. You humiliated me. You made me feel like a joke.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“But you did it.”

Silence filled the place. Daniela reached for you, and this time you didn’t move away—but you didn’t move forward either.

You just stood there, staring at the girl who once made you feel like the safest place on earth, now looking like the eye of a storm she couldn’t control.

“I can’t do this again,” you said finally, “I’m done.”

And for the first time that night, Daniela didn’t beg. She just nodded in defeat. And watched silently as you walked away.

main | next

[lordzannis]

Vetted! #15 on @/gazavetters vetted gfm list, promoted by nabulsi here and here. Also vetted by association

Israeli soldiers have admitted that they are ordered to shoot unarmed aid seekers in Gaza! At least 410 unarmed Palestinians have already been killed while seeking aid! Palestinians shouldn't have to risk their lives just to get food!!

Darine has been fundraising for more than 16 months now! Darine has 4 younger siblings and her youngest sister is only 8 years old! Please help them!!

This Fundraiser Needs Your Help – Urgent Support Needed! 🍉🌿🇵🇸

A Critical Moment: Why We Need Solidarity Now

Right now, families and individuals in Palestine are enduring unimaginable hardship. The ongoing crisis has left countless people without homes, access to basic necessities, or hope for a safer tomorrow. Our fundraiser, once a vital lifeline, is now critically low on funds. We are calling on you—not just for charity, but for solidarity and justice. This is a collective moment, one in which your act of kindness can shape the future for those enduring the harshest conditions.

The Power of Your Help

Why does your help matter so much? Because every dollar, pound, or euro you contribute goes directly where it’s needed most. There are no barriers or unnecessary bureaucracy. Your donations provide urgent food, safe shelter, and medical care to families who have lost nearly everything. In these devastating times, your support is not just about survival—it’s about restoring dignity, autonomy, and hope.

Imagine a parent able to feed their children tonight because of your generosity, or a family regaining warmth and safety after losing their home. That’s what your contribution accomplishes: real, immediate change. No matter the size—whether it’s $5, $40, or $60—every donation bridges the gap between despair and hope.

How You Can Make a Difference

There are three simple yet powerful ways you can help us reach more people and bring relief faster:

🌿 Donate: Your financial support is a direct line to hope. Every amount—big or small—fuels our ability to provide food, shelter, and medical aid. If you have the means, please consider donating $40 or $60 today. These amounts go a long way toward putting meals on the table, supplying medicine, and rebuilding lives.

🌿 Share: You don’t have to give money to make an impact. By sharing this campaign, you amplify the message and help us reach compassionate allies across the world. Every repost, comment, and conversation brings us closer to our goal. Your voice is powerful—use it to create a ripple of change.

🌿 Engage: Join in. Leave supportive comments. Reblog. Keep the conversation about justice and dignity alive in your community. Participate in dialogue about mutual aid, solidarity, and the power of grassroots action.

Transparency and Trust: Where Your Money Goes

We believe in total transparency. Every dollar raised is accounted for, with 100% going directly to aid for those in crisis. Decisions about where aid is allocated are made democratically with community input, ensuring that your generosity has a real and lasting impact. We provide regular updates so you can see the difference your support makes.

Join Us – Stand for Justice, Dignity, and Hope

This isn’t just fundraising—it’s a movement for justice and human dignity. Together, we are building a future based on care, inclusion, and respect for all. Your support isn’t just a gift; it’s a declaration that no one should face deprivation or injustice alone.

Let’s stand united for Palestine. Donate, share, and engage today to give families a better tomorrow. Together, we can prove that humanity’s collective strength can overcome even the darkest times.

Thank you for every act of compassion and solidarity. Each one brings us closer to hope. 🌿

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Israel Halts Gaza Aid Deliveries, Orders Open Fire on Civilians as UN Appeals to ‘Stop Shooting People Trying to Get Food’

26/06/2025 • Stefan Anderson & Elaine Ruth Fletcher

As hard-right ministers in Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government threatened to resign over alleged aid theft by Hamas, Israeli soldiers testified to local and international media outlets that their commanding military officers issued direct open fire orders on unarmed civilians waiting at food distribution points throughout the past month.

[h4m1lt0ns]

HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.

episode seventeen :: POPULAR DEMAND.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴various drivers x y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔new year, new album, new team.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ wonyoung jang (28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕ cussing, none.

y/n and y/l/nestate

♡ liked by lewishamilton, pierregasly and 39,212,899 more.

y/n hello! happy first of february to all of you 🌷🫧 after a looong break, and not so long consideration due to popular demand, i present to you CHAMPAGNE, SEX & (and the good kind of) ANXIETY 🍾🎻 i was barely beginning to process the magnitude of how loved CS&A was, especially after winning six grammys. i realised that u fuckers deserve even more songs,, so i made more !!!! this album is 100% percent my favourite album so far 🤍🏹 the first section of the album is very rnb focused, with voices like ﹫honeymoon, ﹫champagnepapi and ﹫theweeknd 🖤 while section two is very y2k club classics and i had the absolute pleasure of working with original icons like ﹫timbaland, ﹫pharrell, ﹫usher, ﹫nellyfurtado, uhm FUCKING ﹫beyonce 😭﹫frenchmontana, and so many more 🤍🫧🏹 this truly is my best work as i was so so so honoured to work with people who brought out the best in me ⭐️ to my fans, my whoooole heart and soul :’) thank you so so much for the support you’ve shown me this year, i can’t wait to see you soon. this will be my last project for a while but until then, dID I MENTION BEYONCE???? 15/2 🏹

view all 1,492,699 comments.

username well good fucking morning to you too i guess

username y/n pls omgggg 😭

alexandrasaintmleux can you please rest for the love of god

→ lando like seriously

→ charles_leclerc i beg

→ y/n well god forbid a girl loves her job

username HELLO??????? WHY

username y/l/nestate STOP HER FROM MAKING SURPISE DROPS

→ y/l/nestate look man, there’s only so much i can do 🥲

username now why the fuck is lewis in her likes 🤨

→ username esp after baby deer 😒

→ username HE COMMENTED

→ username WHERE

→ username i think he either deleted it or y/n deleted it

pierregasly BEYONCÉ GISELLE KNOWLES CARTER??

→ y/n I KNOWWWWWWW

username OH ALBUM OF THE YEAR ALREADY 🤭🤭

francisca.cgomes GAGGG

username THIRTY FOUR FUCKING SONGS. WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM.

username BEYONCÉ?? PHARELL?? TIMBALAND?? THE WEEKEND?? LANA?? USHER?? DRAKE?? NELLY FUCKING FURTADO AND FRENCH MONTANA??

→ username HEY SO THIS IS INSANE BY THE WAY.

→ username she’s doing her big one 🤏🏽🤏🏽🤏🏽

→ username i can’t explain how gagged i am 😭

sebasatianvettel is this what you were doing during your break?

→ y/n …no

→ sebastianvettel 😐

→ y/n 😞

username I’M SO FUCKING SAT YOU DONT UNDERSTAND

username THIRTY FOUR? 34?? AS IN 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34???

→ username BYEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭

lewishamilton 🖤

[this comment was deleted by the author]

scuderiaferrari i’ve never been this happy. is this what it’s like for y/n fans?

→ username get used to it. we get served A LOT here

→ username yeah, our y/n NEVER disappoints

→ username NEVER DISAPPOINTS.

→ username not that you people know what that’s like

oscarpiastri excited

→ y/n can u be a little more enthusiastic maybe 😀

→ oscarpiastri so excited

→ y/n ok

carlossainz55 YES GOD.

username announcing it two weeks before is js torturing us

username SHE’S BACKKKKKKKKK

username YESYESYESYESYESTHANKYOULORD 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

username does she know what break means????

→ username no it’s y/n lmao

☆ IMESSAGE with : LEW <3

y/n changed LEW <3’s contact name to lewis h.

lewis h: why’d you delete my comment?

y/n: i thought i blocked you, i don’t want you under my posts

lewis h: why tho?? i was trying to show you support

y/n: don’t play stupid with me

lewis h: look it was just an argument

lewis h: can’t we get past it??

y/n: no. i wanted u to think abt what’s best for you

y/n: fuck you actually

y/n: you bitch

lewis h: call me

y/n: you fucking hurt me

y/n: i don’t wanna hear your voice

lewis h: y/n please

lewis h: are you still in monaco?

y/n: leave me alone

lewis h: i’m in carré d’or

lewis h: in your neighbourhood, let me see you

y/n: to do what exactly

y/n: you fucking pussy

y/n: face your issues first before you come to see me

y/n: i asked you a question to look out for you and look at how you reacted

lewis h: look i’m sorry okay

y/n: i don’t accept your fuckass apology

y/n: delete my number.

y/n

📍 Hotel De Paris, Monté Carlo

♡ liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and 9,212,899 more.

y/n the wife and i 🌸🥐 🌊

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux

view all 588,294 comments.

charles_leclerc your wife???

→ y/n that’s what i said yes 🙂‍↕️

→ alexandrasaintmleux sorry you found out this way 🙃

username GIRL KISSERS 🫵🏽

username do they know it’s legal now

username where there is alex and y/n, there is rhode

→ alexandrasaintmleux 🙂‍↕️🫱🏻‍🫲🏼

username hey y/n!! i heard it’s really good for your jewelry when you leave it out by an open window 😁

username alex’s body is teaaaaa 😍😍😍

carmenmmundt where was my invite :(

→ y/n come over rn

username y/nxandra when

→ y/n charles is in the way i fear 😔

→ username sacrifice him queen

→ charles_leclerc ????

→ lando don’t give her ideas (pls do actually)

rhode i spy rhode 👀

username lewis shoot ur shot or get to the back of the line brother

username thank god for women

username fav duo ever????

username lewis stays lurking on her account

username js get together you two 😍

lewishamilton found you.

︴# ⸝⸝ : ★ real life ¡ ⌕ ⸝⸝ ﹒ ﹕

it had been a long day, a fun one, but you were still exhausted. a random episode of The Simpsons was playing in the background, the volume of the t.v was low, but you could vaguely make out was sounded like banter between Bart and Lisa.

You were laid back in bed, eyes on the screen of your laptop, watching (more like monitoring) some visuals for your upcoming album. In theory, this should’ve been the perfect way to end your day. The a.c was blasting, and your pyjamas were as comfortable as it gets, the room was dark and the Monté Carlo skies were beginning to lightly rain—quiet, calm, unwinding.

That was until the agitating sound of your home’s door bell echoed suddenly throughout your house. “seriously?” you grumble as you sit up, and as you glance at the clock, you frown a little. 10:48, who would it be at this hour?

Then it occurred to you, the only way someone could ring your door bell is if they made it past the front gates. This person knew your gates’ codes. You chuckled as you got up, and from the edge of your bed you grab a hand bag.

“I knew you’d come back.” you mutter as you walk down the hallway, Alexandra had forgot her bag here earlier, so it most likely was her dropping by to grab it.

You smile as you open the door, “I knew you’d come ba-”

This wasn’t your beloved Alexandra Saint Mleux.

“Hey.”

It was Lewis.

Lightning struck behind him as the rain got heavier, the flash illuminated his figure for a second. He looked at you, breathing out slightly, god, he missed your face. He can tell you weren’t exactly the happiest to see him, but the relief that settled in his rib cage made him smile a little.

“why are you here?” you ask, shoulders slumping a little, your smile disappearing. You’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t missed those bambi brown eyes, but didn’t want to admit it. You couldn’t actually tell whether you missed him, or the idea of what he was before your argument.

Seeing your shoulders fall brought that guilt that was swirling around his chest back. You’re happy to see him, and he knew why.

“I wanted to talk to you.” he says, voice sincere. You look away, hand tightening on the door knob—stressed and annoyed at how much his voice soothed you. “well-… i don’t wanna talk.” you say.

He reached out, his tattooed hand cupping your cheek. you wanted to pull away, you wanted to so bad, and you did. you pulled away from him touch, but it took you embarrassingly long to do so. “please look at me.” he quietly asks.

And when you look up at him, your eyes were glossy. glazed over with tears he was the cause of, “please go away.” you mutter, voice breaking a little.

“i can’t.” he says, walking in and standing in front of you. he barely left any space, “i can’t walk away from you.”

[nastyc2nt]

Your Scent

╰┈➤ Baby Saja x Fem!Reader

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ Warnings; Reader has tits tho they can be small, Oversized clothes, Smut, he’s mean, I’m so down bad :(.

It’s been forever since a he’s been able to get ahold of you, with all the fucking touring and shit that has him away.

He’s not even three seconds into the apartment before he’s following your scent, the kitchen since you’re human and actually eat. Not that he cares, everything can wait until he gets you, takes you again.

“Baby- Uh, What the fuck.” He picks you up from no where, slams you onto the counter without a proper welcome. He’s already leaning into you, nose only taking in your smell. He’s never one to be needy, and definitely never gonna admit it, but he craves you.

He mutters something before taking you to the table, laying you on your back and practicing pressing himself against your panties. Which, doesn’t stay like that for long before he’s ripping them off, and I mean they are no more.

“Wearin’ my clothes when I’m away, what? You like my scent?” He’s teasing you, as if he wasn’t sniffing you like a blood hound.

Fuck- he loves seeing his clothes over your frame, even if it’s the ones almost too big for him to wear, it’s his- you’re his. And fucking you like this, his cock stretching your pussy while wearing his clothes? He might just make a verse about making you scream. Might even record you next time.

Until, he’s had enough.

Fuck that stupid sweater, it’s blocking his view.

His claws reach underneath the material and across you skin, light as a feather, almost tickling and not to cut you. He pushes it up to your neck and starts to pinch your neglected nipples.

“Such a needy thing, it’s pathetic,” his hands slaps your chest, the skin stings and your nipples burns. “Worship my cock baby, take it all in. Better be lucky it’s only for you. This is the only cunt that can take it.”

Really just wanted to give my thots and opinions on this thot I had of him. I just see him fucking you, and pulling up your shirt, obv because he’s to impatient to take off your shirt before fucking you. Like if you’re chubby, big or small titted he’s pulling it up and squeezing you everywhere. Even if your really skinny and no tits, you got nipples he can play and tug. He lovessssss playing with you. Agh- TAKE ME.

¡!Don’t repost my posts on other websites, don’t translate them, theses are for me to publish on my own!!

[uconndallas]

Title: Just Us, No Shot Clock

A/N: Hi guys! Idk how to feel about this one shot ngl. This will be the last post from me for the upcoming days. my personal life is a mess rn so im gonna focus on that for rn. But I promise Collision Court will def return. For now I hope you guys enjoy this one shot, and thank you so much for reading <3

-

The gym was quiet, save for the rhythmic echo of a basketball bouncing against the polished hardwood. Paige dribbled in slow circles at half-court, her ponytail swinging with each pivot. The overhead lights buzzed faintly above them, casting soft halos that lit the court in gentle gold.

Azzi sat cross-legged on the bleachers, her eyes following Paige’s every move. She was still in her hoodie and team sweats, fresh from practice, sweat cooling against her skin. Paige hadn’t said much since they stayed behind. But she hadn’t needed to. Azzi knew her well enough to understand when she needed space and when she needed someone just to be there.

“You know we have a curfew,” Azzi called, voice low and teasing.

Paige stopped at the free-throw line, turning slowly. The ball came to rest against her hip.

“Not for this.”

Azzi tilted her head. “For what?”

Paige walked toward her, bouncing the ball once more before it rolled toward the edge of the court. “For this moment. Just us. No shot clock.”

Azzi’s lips curved up gently. “You always get poetic when you’re tired.”

“I’m not tired.” Paige sat beside her, their knees brushing. “I just... I didn’t want the night to end.”

Azzi turned slightly to look at her. Paige’s expression was unreadable, somewhere between exhaustion and longing. The kind of look that came after weeks of late-night practices, too many hours in the gym, and feelings that had been sitting just beneath the surface for too long.

Paige finally looked at her. “Do you ever wish things were simpler?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. “I used to. Before I met you.”

Paige blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Azzi said softly, “things aren’t simpler. But they’re better. You make the mess feel worth it.”

The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was full. Brimming. Paige shifted slightly, their shoulders touching now, breaths syncing.

“I keep thinking about what happens when the season ends,” Paige murmured. “When the crowd’s gone. The lights. Everything. And all that’s left is... real life.”

Azzi reached over, her pinky brushing Paige’s. "Then let’s start real life right now. Just us. No clock. No pressure."

Paige looked down at their fingers barely touching. Her throat tightened. And then, slowly, she laced hers with Azzi’s.

“I think I’ve wanted this since the first time you stole the ball from me.”

Azzi laughed. “That was freshman year.”

“You were annoying and perfect.”

“You tripped me the next play.”

“I panicked!” Paige laughed, cheeks flushed. “I didn’t know how else to talk to you.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “You’re doing just fine now.”

They sat in that quiet bubble for a long while, the distant hum of the campus beyond the gym nothing but static. Paige’s voice broke the stillness again, softer this time.

“Do you remember the away game last year? You took that hit under the basket and I—I thought—”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Yeah. I remember. You didn’t leave the trainer’s tent.”

“You scared me.” Paige’s voice cracked. “And I realized I didn’t want to do this without you. Not just basketball. Everything.”

Azzi shifted, her hand moving to Paige’s cheek. “You don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.”

Paige’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Promise?”

“Swear on the final four.”

That earned a watery laugh from Paige. She leaned in, just enough to close the gap. Their lips met in the softest, most tentative kiss one built on seasons of chemistry and unspoken words, a slow-burning story that finally found its breath.

When they pulled apart, Paige pressed her forehead to Azzi’s, her heart pounding like tip-off.

“Is it weird that I feel like this is the most real thing I’ve ever known?”

Azzi smiled. “It’s not weird. It’s us.”

They stayed there, curled up on the bleachers, long after the lights above them dimmed and the court faded into shadow. The world could wait. The next game. The next day. The future. For now, they had time real, lingering time.

Just them. No noise. No expectations. No shot clock.

And in the quiet, Paige whispered, “I think I love you.”

Azzi didn’t even hesitate.

“I know I love you.”