#em writes fic

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

you’re borrowing your boyfriend!jason todd’s…

hoodie

it’s big, it’s warm, and it smells like your big warm boyfriend. of course you stole it. luckily jason runs hot..or that’s what he tells you at least. the man gets cold too, but he’d never tell you that. not when you look so cozy in his sweatshirt.

sweats

your favorite thing of his to match with his hoodie. his sweatpants are super warm, super soft, and super baggy. meant for ultimate comfort. jason loves it when you go full out sweatsuit in his clothes. like, loves it. you’re like his own personal teddy bear to hold on to while he falls asleep. who needs sweats when he has you to keep him warm..in his.

t shirt

sometimes, when the weather’s warmer, you’ll steal one of jason’s shirts to thrown on over a pair of panties. you’re oblivious to the fact that this combination makes jason go absolutely buck wild. somehow you’ve never made the connection. but more than once he’s found you sprawled across the couch, watching tv, and ended up going down on you. his head nestled between your thighs as you grip his raven locks. his hands are fisted into the loose fabric of his shirt that you’re wearing. he’s not satisfied until your legs are shaking, your moans intermingling with the wet, borderline pornographic, sounds that he’s creating with his mouth on your clit. he never lets you get him back either, even though you know he was grinding his crotch against the couch, chasing that sweet friction and release along with you. but he always just sits you atop his lap after, kissing your cheek as he brushes your hair out of your face. grips your thigh as he makes a comment about the show playing, your panties long forgotten on the floor.

underwear

you never get very far wearing a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers. for one, they’re pretty loose on you, so you have to roll the waistband a couple times, which just gives jason a prime view of your ass. they also just make it so easy for him to get his hand down the front, his strong fingers expertly finding your clit like he’s memorized a map of your body. which, in some ways, he has. it’s not long before you’ve come, once, twice, almost a third time, and he’s pulling his own boxers off to free his stiff cock. it points out, the tip leaking, and you’re opening your legs wider without even realizing it. he grabs your waist, sliding you closer to the edge of the bed, making sure you’re ready before he slides in, burying himself in you. he bottoms out, and you’re throwing your head back, a third orgasm threatening to crest as he starts up a rhythm. the muscles of his stomach ripple as he thrusts in and out. one of his hands is on your waist, the other slowly snaking its way back down to your clit. your toes curl at the feel of his calloused thumb rubbing circles on that sensitive bundle of nerves. he’s groaning, low in his throat, at the way you look on his cock. it never gets old for him, ever. the way your cheeks flush, how adorable your blown out pupils are when you look up at him. your wet lashes, your messy hair. your entrance clenches around his cock as you come a third time, your hands gripping the bed sheets. jason comes along with you, groaning loudly as he paints your insides with white ropes of cum. he pulls out, wetting a washcloth in the bathroom. the wet, warm fabric feels like heaven against your sensitive folds, your boyfriend wiping away the mixture of fluids between your legs. you feel pleasantly boneless, sinking into the pillows at the head of the bed. your boyfriend cleans himself up after, settling into bed next to you. jason wraps his strong arms around you, and it’s better than any clothes you might steal. but what you don’t know, is that he’d let you steal his clothes anytime.

[hhoonii]

₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘ EVERYDAY RELATIONSHIP THINGS WITH ENHYPEN (MAKNAE LINE)

pairing: maknae line!enhypen x fem!reader, genre: fluff, non-idol! au, warnings: kissing, a/n: hope you enjoy this pt. 2 ;), pt. 1 here

— sunoo

plants kisses all over your face because he loves every feature of yours. rests his head on your shoulder while watching movies. holds your hand wherever you go. secretly takes 0.5 pics of you. sings your favorite songs to help you fall asleep. makes sure your jacket’s zipped when it’s cold outside. sends cute motivational texts every day to support you. likes doing your hair and trying different styles on you. “you know you’re the only one for me, right?”

— jungwon

holds you close in crowded places. always notices when your shoes are untied and ties them for you. blushes when you compliment his shoulders. giggles in between kisses. likes when you poke his dimples. pinky promises he’ll protect you forever. admires you when you aren’t looking. listens to everything you say, no matter how trivial it is. puts your foreheads together and jokes he can read your mind. “with you i feel like i could do anything in the world.”

— ni-ki

starts pillow fights that always end with you two cuddling. randomly gives you piggy back rides for fun. winks at you when he sees you across the room. subtly flexes his arms when you’re around. doesn’t leave until he sees you walk safely into your house. gets all the hard-to-reach items for you at grocery stores. makes you laugh until your stomach hurts. likes comparing hand sizes, and then using it as an excuse to interlock hands. gives you goodnight kisses. “since when did my thoughts become filled with you?”

[crazylittlejester]

every note this gets is One cheese cube I will give to Twilight as a little treat for what I’ve done to him this whumptober

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Hedghodg Snugglz

[kirishwima]

JJK guys when you gift them something handmade - Part 2

Toji:

Nanami:

Sukuna:

[star4daisy]

map - 972 words - @rosekillermicrofic

tw: wounds, physical assault

Barty had always refused to see the doctor after his father was done with him. He'd learned the lesson to avoid them when he was twelve, trying to find someone to help him and his mom out of the house. No one ever lifted a finger to assist them.

That was until he passed out after one of their little sessions and Barty woke up being tended by lovely long fingers that held him with care.

Barty hadn't felt a gentle touch in years — ever since his mother died — so he couldn't be blamed for being unable to resist coming back, especially when he noticed that the doctor didn't ask questions that Barty couldn't give him the answer to.

Two years passed with comforting touches and sharp needles mending Barty's skin back together. With time, Evan Rosier mended more than just Barty's skin. Evan turned him human again. As human as Barty could ever become after years of neglect and abuse.

Evan was tending to the wounds on his back as Barty complained about the other soldiers' behaviour, he could barely feel the sting of the alcohol as his open back was getting disinfected.

He'd been through this enough times to know how the procedure went, Evan would caress his unmarred skin with one hand to comfort him and then press his needle inside Barty's open flesh, always trying to put him back together. Evan didn't always succeed. Sometimes Barty thought that he had been broken one too many times for it to work again.

If things had been any different between them Barty would've never allowed Evan to map the scars on his back with his lovely fingers. Barty had been ashamed of it for so long, of how ugly they looked. Sometimes he still flinched from the touch, his subconscious never expected the proximity to not be a danger.

No one had gotten close without taking a piece of him along with them, Evan had been the first to give. To fix.

Barty was in awe of him.

Once Evan was done and had wrapped the worst of it in gauze, he began the tradition of kissing every old scar on Barty's body. Evan started with the one on his shoulder, just a slight brush of his lips that was enough to make Barty shudder. The effect was bigger on his body than any sharp tool had been before.

Then Evan kissed his spine, Barty had to restrain the instinctive jerky movement so he wouldn't pull away from him.

He never wanted to pull away from Evan again.

The tradition had started the first time Barty pulled away from him when Evan touched one of his scars. "Why do you always do that?" His tone was curious.

"They're ugly, you're not," Barty said matter of factly. "No reason for you to have to see them," he shrugged uncomfortably.

Evan froze in the process of taking his gloves off. "Who said they were ugly?"

"I did."  

"Crouch," the name was said as a warning.

"You know who."

Evan studied him for a while and then he pulled Barty's chin up, forcing him to look into Evan's stony blue eyes. "Nothing about you will ever be as ugly as he is, inside and out."

Barty nodded jerkily, avoiding eye contact once again.

"I mean it, Crouch," Evan pulled him by the chin again. "They're a part of you, each one of them tells me a story about who you are. They're a map to your soul. How could that ever be ugly?"

Barty felt like his throat was swollen, which was weird because he was sure he hadn't been hurt there. "Don't call me that," was all he managed to say. "That's his name, not mine."

Evan nodded slowly, analysing Barty's features as if he needed to draw him from memory. "And how would you want me to call you?"

"Barty is fine."

"Barty," Evan said it like he was tasting the words in his mouth.

"Yes?" Barty answered, finally raising his head out of his own will and Evan rewarded him by kissing Barty for the first time.

Now, as Evan had grown used to tending to his wounds and Barty was more comfortable with his body and soul, he finally gathered the courage to admit to Evan the truth in his heart. "I hate him," he said. "I hate him more than I've ever hated anyone."

Barty knew it was wrong of him to say when they were in the middle of a war, that he should hate their enemies more than the man who was leading them to victory. But he couldn't keep it inside anymore, the words had been choking him for years and Evan — his only safe space — had allowed him to breathe after spilling them.

Evan didn't stop the task of mapping Barty's scars with his lips, when he spoke it was against the skin of Barty's neck, "Do you want me to kill him?" He offered, warm breath sending chills down Barty's spine.

Barty was ashamed of how long he'd thought about this before. "His death might condemn us all."

"Or it might free us." Evan was like the devil whispering behind his shoulder.

"It needs to look like an inevitability." Barty finally conceded, turning to look at Evan's cold eyes. "We couldn't just shoot him, we'd be dead in thirty seconds."

"Don't worry, darling." Evan kissed his jaw, moving his lips slowly until he reached Barty's mouth. "I've had a plan since the first time you entered this tent bleeding because of him."

When Barty went to sleep that night he could finally relax in their makeshift bed. Even if his father's death resulted in all of theirs, Barty found he could be at peace as long as he had Evan by his side.

[crsssie]

frog - jinshi x reader (Spoiler Warning for Chapter 63 of the manga)

"hng." Jinshi whimpers, face flushed as you freeze.

It's a frog. You fucking swear it's a frog. You didn't just accidentally grab and squeeze Jinshi, a fucking eunuch's, dick. You did not. You are hallucinating. That was the frog that jumped on you and knocked you off balance— nOT Jinshi's dick or whatever. He shouldn't even have one!

"Sorry." You sit up, legs still straddling Jinshi as you get off of his chest. "I saw a frog and fell."

Jinshi sits up with you, face flushed in embarrassment as you pray you can play stupid out of this one. It was hard enough that he literally witnessed you hurl a rock at the assassin with eerie precision, but you would rather die than have to die with Jinshi because you found out he wasn't a eunuch.

Every day your loyalty is tested when around this man.

"That makes this way easier." Jinshi sighs, grabbing you by the shoulder as you tense up to lean back from him. "I have a confession to make. I—"

"I think I killed the frog." You mumble, face pale. You're acting. You have to. You are not following Jinshi to the grave and cleaning up the aftermath of his ass getting someone pregnant.

"No, listen, that wasn't—"

"Oh my god, I'm not gonna make it to heaven." You mumble again, staring at your hand before wiping it on your chest. "Master Jinshi, I'm going to hell."

"No, that wasn't—"

"I'm going to hell because I crushed a frog..." You mumble.

Jinshi gets fed up with your acting, pushing you backward into the dirt as he cages you in, lifting your leg as he presses his clothed erection into you. You yelp, trying to crawl away, but he holds you in place, eyes staring through yours to your soul as you shake underneath him. Playing stupid didn't work this time.

"That was not a frog," and he rolls his hips against yours for emphasis, watching as you mentally restrain yourself from moaning. God, since when were you this lewd?! "Stop playing stupid, pretty one. You gave it a good squeeze too."

You freeze up as he lowers himself ever so slowly, and you blurt your thoughts out before you can think of what the best choice is at the moment.

"I am not having my first kiss on the dirt in a cave!" You cry, praying that it's enough. Seriously, you aren't following Jinshi to the grave. He may be hot, and women may throw themselves at him and men turn gay for him and nations go to war for him but you are not following him to the grave. Your loyalty does not lay that strong. You don't want to die just yet.

Jinshi leans in anyway, lips brushing yours as a bark sounds above you as you call back, and you sigh in relief when you hear Maomao's voice.

You're saved. Oh heavens, you're saved.

[dekupalace]

hi isatheads. is this anything

[martinluvrr]

MISS 21 SOMETHING | EMILY ENGSTLER

⋅˚₊‧ based on miss 20 something

⋅˚₊‧ nav ||

☆

liked by haileyvanlith,bellahadid,sofiavergara and 307,567 others

y/n legal 😭 #21

comments

jujubballin happy birthday 🎉 🩷

haileyvanlith hb mom 🥹🥹🥹

⤷ y/n thank u older than me child 🥹

⤷ usera deaddddd

sofiavergara happy birthday my on screen granddaughter 🫶🏻💗

⤷ userb love that the whole modern family cast is in the comments

sza happy 21st ✨✨✨✨✨

userc can’t believe shes actually 21

⤷ userd i literally remember her being 12 like a week ago 😭😭😭

kamoreaarnold happy birthday girly pop 💘💘💘💗

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liked by y/n,washmystics, haileyvanlith and 15,234 others

em_engstler miss 21 something @y/n love u baby 🫶🏻

comments

aaliyahedwards_24 🌟🌟🌟

haileyvanlith parents ❣️

userf cutest couple out here fr

userg the 5 year age gap makes me uncomfy…

⤷ userh then block them like tf

⤷ useri nobody gaf if ur uncomfy about their business

y/n thank u em 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

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☆

[bamnamuu]

things bangchan would do as your boyfriend

w.count 250 | warnings mentions kissing | em’s note it’s been a weird couple days, and the only way to get through them is with boyfriend channie : D oh also not proof read !!!

boyf!Chan who teases you about stealing his hoodies, even though he leaves them out on purpose because he likes seeing you wearing his clothes.

boyf!Chan who always sends you messages and selfies every hour or so just so you don’t forget how much he loves you. (not that you could forget, he's on your mind 24/7 365)

boyf!Chan who learns to cook your favourite food, so that when you get home you do not have to worry about cooking.

boyf!Chan who has a polaroid of you two in the back of his phone so everywhere he goes he has you with him.

boyf!Chan who lets you listen to skz's new songs before the rest of the members because he wants your approval, he admires your thoughts.

boyf!chan who would set up ‘sleepovers’ at your shared apartment every weekend just because he wants to do something special for you. (he would also let you help build a pillow fort)

boyf!Chan who always gives your forehead a little kiss whenever he leaves the room you're in, even if he leaves for a second he’s gonna smooch your head.

boyf!Chan who when sleeping next to each other, drags you closer to him if you roll away because he's missing your warmth, he just likes having you close knowing you're with him makes him sleep better.

boyf!Chan who doesn't know what he's doing, but tries his hardest to be the best boyfriend for you.

[criticalbeauregard]

vexleth sketch (click for better quality)

it's "i have passed through fire" keyleth not "i have passed through bees"

inspo: @elliesgaymachete for the idea :)

[24-05txt]

In regards to the whole soul mate thing, Soap's been through all the phases.

He'd started curious, then confused, then mournful, then resentful. For now he's settled somewhere in the vicinity of apathy—maybe spite.

He doesn't have a soul-mark. Never has, never will, and that's... fine. He's far from the only one lacking that kind of connection, and that's enough for him to feel understood. Not alone. He's got plenty of good friends besides—with and without soulmates of their own—and he's happy that way. Really, he is; it took him a fair amount of work to get to a place where he could say that and it not be wishful thinking. He's got friends, family, dalliances, motion and company and light in his life despite the lack of a mark that tells him where his place is.

And then he meets Ghost.

The Lieutenant is huge in the sense that his presence alone takes up what space his height and muscle can't. He's quiet, too, at least before Soap makes the effort to worm his way under all that tacgear. (The man is intriguing, what can he say? Who else walks around with a honest-to-fuck skull mask day in and out.)

Ghost seems to tolerate him at first, then inexplicably starts to prickle and grouch whenever Soap comes within six feet of him. He could make up a few reasons for why that is, but instead contents himself with pretending he doesn't notice—pushing the implied boundary until Ghost mans up and tells him off.

He never does, though. And it's not long at all until Soap's found that the boundary has given way and Ghost is—well he's actually pretty pleasant to be around. He's funny, and patient, and gives way too much of a shit to be in a career that pretty much ensures the death of everyone he works with. (He likes to pretend he doesn't, but there's no other reason he would have been waiting up in that church for Soap—in fact he shouldn't have still been there at all, since he'd already scoped an escape route. The bastard's soft, is what he's saying.)

And that's when things start to backslide just a little.

They're sitting in the mess—only three of them, the Captain unable to grace them with his presence—and Gaz is talking about his sister's husband's new boyfriend being the result of a late-discovery soulmatch.

"Could you imagine," he says, pausing to chew his mouthful before he continues. "Going thirty years knowing there's someone out there for you, and not seeing them until after you're already married?"

"Could be platonic," Soap pointed out, not bothering with the same courtesy of chewing his food. Ghost kicks him under the table for it, but he honestly can't be asked to care for only three words worth.

"Could be, but still—could you imagine?"

"Nope." Soap pops the 'P' and grins. Ghost doesn't kick him this time since he hasn't taken another bite yet. "I'm a wee bit hopeless in that department."

"Ah, brother." Gaz reaches out and they clasp hands for a moment, then he nudges his shoulder. "You and me both. Never much got the fuss about it, but that does seem like some sort of cosmic irony yeah?"

"Issat irony?" Soap asks. "Don't think that's right."

Obviously, that incites a short argument that ends when Gaz pulls out his phone to look up the actual dictionary definition of 'irony', and Soap grasps to change the topic to literally anything else to avoid Gaz gloating on the off chance that he's right.

"Lt, what about you?"

Ghost blinks at him as if he hasn't been staring at the both of them through the whole conversation.

"I know what irony is, Johnny."

"No—" he can't help the scowl, and talks over Gaz's sudden jeering as he shoves his phone under his nose. Soap lifts his chin to avoid it. "You got a soul mark?"

"Read it and weep, Soap!" Gaz cheers, only slightly subdued in respect for every else in the room.

"I do." Ghost says at the same time, dipping his head in a tiny little nod, and Soap's world ends just a little bit, right there in the mess hall. Curls up, withers, and dies without so much as a squeal.

He's not able to ask if Ghost knows who it is, or if he's met them, or if they're still alive, or if it's romantic or platonic; he's not sure if it even matters, because Johhny knows right then that he will never be as close to Ghost as they are.

And it hurts.

It hurts in a way he wasn't entirely expecting.

He must hold it together well enough through the rest of dinner, and then through walking with Gaz back to their rooms, but once he's got the door locked behind him he feels the smile fall off his face. He sits down on the edge of his bed.

Ghost has a soulmate.

Ghost has a soulmate and Soap is pissed about it. Because that soulmate isn't him—it can't be, since he doesn't have a mark of his own.

It's just—it's unfair. They work so well together, on the field and off. He knows for a fact no one else can read Ghost as well as he can, no one else talks to him like he does, he doesn't hang around anyone else like he seems to hang around Soap. If anyone should be Ghost's soulmate, it should be him.

But he's not. Which means there's someone else out there that can watch his six better, understand him more, have more satisfying conversations—and it seems fucking impossible, because he doesn't even know how it could get better given the time they've known eachother... and yet.

And yet Ghost has a mark, and Soap doesn't.

It takes him days to get over it—at least enough to act himself when he's in company. Ghost tries to get him to talk about it three separate times before he can manage to get his shit together. He won't *lie* to Simon, nor is he about to admit to what's eating at him, and it leaves him snappish. Leaves the vitriol closer to the surface than it ever has been around Ghost and he hates to see how he reacts to it; he doesn't cower, doesn't flinch, doesn't avoid him, just stares—in a different way than before. John's temper will flare and Ghost will freeze a little, tilt his head, furrow his brow, and fucking stare at him until the moment passes. It might be better if he raised his voice in return, let it escalate into a proper fight—or even if he shut Soap down hard and told him to cool off. Instead Ghost looks at him like he's gone and become a stranger; like he's confused where he doesn't expect to be, and that hurts almost as much as finding out his place isn't next to Simon—or at least, he doesn't have any rightful claim to it.

[dapper-lil-arts]

Deleted scenes from the fanfic im writing

assorted unrelated Sunset Shimmer misadventures lmao. i'll put the context on the ending author's note part of the fic -v-

[spicyet]

What are you looking for here? Scroll back up.

Just kidding, here’s a treat:

[girlsdads]

https://www.tumblr.com/girlsdads/762007245755170816

It looks like daniel is peeing

em!!! you put this in my brain and i promptly had a crisis, so of course i had to give Max that same crisis, and somehow this became 1.3k 🫡

cw: (consensual?) voyeurism, romanticized peeing

Practice gets red-flagged early on. Max doesn’t see who is in the barrier as he slowly passes, just knows it isn’t Daniel. He’d been assured of that down his radio almost instantly, though he hadn’t asked. He thinks it must be team protocol to tell him this, that it’s not his teammate in the totaled car. Still, Max flushes bone-deep, feeling too exposed, too obvious. Feeling like they know, everyone must know, his brain turns to goop around Daniel and he never catches himself in time.

He trails Daniel to his driver’s room anyway, knowing how it looks. Daniel grins over his shoulder at Max, starts skipping ahead, makes Max chase him. Warmth blooms in Max’s belly. He may be always following behind Daniel, but Daniel is always looking back.

Daniel shrugs his race suit off his shoulders, lets it hang open around his trim waist. The humidity has stamped dark patches on his white fireproofs where he’s started to sweat through. Max closes the door behind himself and stands there awkwardly, trying to think of something to say that will make Daniel laugh, trying not to make direct eye contact with Daniel’s sweaty armpits, lest he shove Daniel against the wall and stick his nose there.

What happens instead is much, much worse.

Daniel is making a beeline to the bathroom, thumbs hooking into the elastic over his flat pelvis. Max’s vision tunnels, the air in the room seeming to close in around him with a swoosh.

“What are you doing?” He hears himself ask, stupidly.

It’s obvious what Daniel is doing. He’s shimmying his hips side to side as he nears the toilet, wiggling the Nomex down. He’s left the door wide open. He stops and smiles at Max, blinding. “Gotta drain the snake, as they say.”

Who is saying this other than you, Max wants to shoot back, knows he should match Daniel’s cheeky tone, rib him a little then leave the fucking room like a normal person. He hears the wet pop of his own bottom lip dropping open, feels the weight of the words against his larynx, but is struck completely dumb watching Daniel pull out his flushed, soft cock.

Max has of course seen Daniel’s dick before, it would probably be more weird if he hadn’t, like he was purposely trying not to. But the handful of other times have only been glimpses in his periphery, nothing like this. Like this, close range and staring openly because Daniel knows Max is there and still he didn’t close the door, Max can see everything.

The double-stacked waistband of his briefs and fireproofs is tucked up snug under his balls. Max can see where the dark, stubbly hairs are starting to grow back, on his sac and around the base of his cock. Daniel has joked before, about manscaping, but to see the evidence of it like this is dizzying. Max wants to go to his knees and pull each ingrown hair free with his teeth.

Daniel holds himself loosely in his left hand, the ruddiness of his shaft clearly visible through the gaps between knucklebones. The head is peeking out past the circle of his index finger and thumb, fat and flushed a little darker than the rest of him. Even soft, his cock looks heavy and full. Max’s mouth floods with saliva and he sucks it back with his cheeks pinched in, hoping Daniel won’t hear the wet slurp.

His skin feels hot. He’s stuck like an ant under a magnifying glass in the sun, his insides incinerating as he watches an arc of piss flow from the gorgeous tip of Daniel’s cock, noisily splashing into the bowl.

Daniel groans, his chin bobbing down toward his chest like someone cut the string that was holding his head upright. Piss hisses out of him, harder now, like he’s pushing it. It is so loud and the walls are thin—anyone lingering nearby must be able to hear, to know. Max wishes he could put up a forcefield, shelter them both inside where only Max can hear the sounds Daniel’s body makes.

It is all over so quickly. The stream trickles to a stop and then Daniel is shaking off the last little dribbles before he’s tucking himself away. Max feels a pang in his chest like grief—he hadn’t finished mentally cataloguing every angle of this moment, needs the image 3D printed into his brain so he can remember forever. Daniel will probably never speak to him again after this, will certainly not let Max anywhere near his bare cock once he turns and sees—Max is hard.

Daniel is shrugging back into the shoulders of his race suit and Max is standing there tenting his own, mortifyingly obvious. Max braces for whatever awkward joke Daniel will try to make to mask his disgust, as he faces Max finally.

He watches Daniel notice. He watches his eyes go slightly bigger and rounder, watches his jaw tick like he’s going to drop it. His gaze feels like a physical weight. Max’s dick throbs once, twice. There is no way Daniel cannot see.

Daniel says nothing, in the end. He smiles at Max, easy as anything, as if Max isn’t a complete freak of nature with a boner from watching his teammate take a piss. He even claps Max on the shoulder as he passes on his way out the door, doesn’t seem to catch how Max sways, knees wobbly, under his touch.

And then Max is alone in Daniel’s driver’s room. Alone and hard and—fuck, a realization burns through him—Daniel didn’t flush.

Max lurches forward before he can stop himself. His foot catches on some part of the floor and he stumbles, nearly going to his knees right there in front of the toilet.

It should be mostly clear, with how they are supposed to be staying hydrated, but apparently Daniel is not doing a very good job. Max has to steady himself with one hand on the wall as he stares down into the bowl, dazed. The water is tinged an unmistakable yellow. It hits Max viscerally, that Daniel has bodily functions and that he did one of those right in front of Max, was comfortable enough to not care if he saw. It’s unbearably intimate in a way that Max can’t think too hard about or he’ll forget how to drive his car, probably. He thinks, wildly, that he wishes he could live inside Daniel’s body, surrounded by all the microscopic things that make him him. He wants to kiss every single one of Daniel’s cells and thank them for keeping him alive.

Even more wildly—he wants to massage his bladder from the inside, tell it he’s sorry it had to get so full, that Daniel should never have to hold it for too long, that he could always if he cannot wait tell Max to go to his knees, and Max would, anywhere, tip his head back and open up for everything Daniel has to give—

Max rips his layers off, feeling frenzied. Elastic stretches around his thighs as he squats lower, his cock now leaking bare over the bowl full of Daniel’s pee. He had foregone underwear earlier, the crotch of his fireproofs now absolutely soaked through with precome. It will be cold and sticky around his cock and balls when he gets back in the car, he will have to drive again and feel it and he will think about Daniel and his dehydrated piss and the sound he made when he let go—

Max comes, shaking, aiming his cock so that it splatters into the bowl, milky white swirling with yellow. Max and Daniel together, like it should be always.

[dukeofthomas]

I hate the insistence in pushing Jason into the batfamily.

If he doesn't wanna go to dinner, he doesn't have to. If he doesn't wanna hang out with them, he doesn't have to. If he doesn't want to see them, he doesn't have to. If he doesn't even want to contact them, he doesn't have to.

It's so annoying to read fic and always see it presented as his Family Knows Better. Jason is just being silly by not realizing how much they love him and he just needs to let them break into his home and comms and life because they want him there.