#no I’m not 😈

[jakesguitarsolo]

i can’t stop thinking about your impure jake thought, “Be angry all you want. Even better. How about you ride me like you hate me, then I’ll fuck you like I love you? How does that sound?”

like OH. MY GOD. 🥵🥵

thank you for sharing😩 need this turned into a fic ASAP

I can’t stop thinking about it either. I’m definitely no writer, just have a few filthy thoughts about Jake every single day of my life 🫠 BUT I’d imagine the scenario to go something like —

Warnings: minors DNI! 18+ only, SMUT, angst, fluff, arguing, negative self body talk, alcohol use, name calling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, air/breath play, riding, probably some more but I’m new to this so forgive me.

You gave Jake the silent treatment all the way home, wanting him to figure out on his own why you were so upset. You usually loved when fans saw Jake out and wanted to say hi or get a picture. This time was different. She was very blatantly flirting with him. Right in front of you. And he was fucking flirting back? You almost couldn’t believe it, but you knew his signs well. Not to mention, in your mind, she was everything you weren’t. Tall. Blonde. Blue eyed. Skinny. The hug Jake gave her lingered for a moment too long. He stared deep into her eyes while she was going on and on about how amazing of a guitarist he was. You saw his eyes flicker from hers down to her lips and back up again. By this time, your blood was fucking boiling.

Jake finally pulled up the car up to your shared home, and you immediately exited the car practically sprinting to the door so he wouldn’t see the unshed tears in your eyes. Slamming the door before he could make it inside, you took off up the stairs to the bedroom. But he was quick behind you. You had already stripped yourself of your tight dress and threw on one of Jake’s big tshirts. Noticing that something was clearly wrong now, Jake entered the room and asked you “Sweetheart, what happened? I don’t understand why you’re so mad. I thought we were having a good night out together.” Maybe it was the few drinks in your system, but you couldn’t hold back as you screamed “Are you fucking kidding me Jake?! Don’t act like you weren’t just flirting with that gorgeous fan like the attention whore you are!” You were so angry that you were shaking. Jake chuckled. “Oh you think that’s funny? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jake slowly made his way across the room and right up to you. Your breath hitched as he pressed his warm body into yours. He bent down, cupping your jaw with his rough, calloused hands and whispered into your ear “Be angry all you want. Even better. How about you ride me like you hate me, then I’ll fuck you like I love you? How does that sound?” Fuck. Your knees went weak. Jake always knew just what to say to make you cave and give in to him. Your body constantly longed for him. Craved him. The wetness between your thighs was immediate and undeniable. You could feel his already hard cock straining against his pants. You went to look up at him wanting to kiss him, but he backed away. Not looking away from you, he unbuttoned the rest of the buttons on his shirt and pulled it off his shoulders letting it fall to the floor. Your mouth was salivating. God, he was so fucking beautiful. You never could resist him. Jake kicked off his shoes and unzipped his pants, but didn’t take them off. Just let them hang low on his hips as he got on the bed and sat up against the headboard. “Come over here and take what you want.”

You were still so damn mad at him. Part of you knew that he did it on purpose. He loved when you took control. He loved to let you take your anger out on him and then show you how much he wanted you and only you. Your pure carnal instinct took over as you went over to him on the bed, grabbed him by the throat, got on top of him, and crashed your lips hard into his. Jake smirked into the kiss, squeezing your hips and pulling you down on his lap. Urging you to grind down on him. He opened his mouth up to yours as you pushed your tongue against his. Retreating from his lips briefly, you grabbed the hem on your shirt and pulled it over your head. Jake’s hands and mouth went right to your chest as he flicked his tongue on your nipple making it hard instantly. You were already getting to work on his pants, pushing them further down trying to free his thick cock from his boxers. Jake groaned as you grabbed his cock in one hand, sat up higher on your knees, and lined him up with your soaking wet pussy. Lowering yourself slowly onto him, you threw your head back in ecstasy attempting to hold back a moan. As crystal clear as it was that you were enjoying every second of this, you were still pissed at him and wanted him to know it. “Use me however you want, sweetheart. Hate fuck me. Make yourself feel good.” Picking up the pace, your hand went back to his throat squeezing harder. Restricting his breath more and more. You could feel Jake’s body harden and tense beneath you as you rode him mercilessly, moving up and down on cock. You released your grip on his neck and moved your hand to the back of his head, up into his soft, long hair and pulled hard, angling his head back into the headboard. Jake whimpered and moaned at your harsh touch. His nails were digging into the meat of your hips when you switched up your movements and started grinding back and forth on him. Grinding your clit deliciously against his pelvis with his cock buried deep inside you. Fuck, you were close and he knew it. “Keep going, sweetheart. I can feel you squeezing me. You wanna cum on my cock? Take it. It’s all yours.” Those words were all it took. Like clockwork, you were unraveling on top of him. Cumming harder than you ever had before. Your entire body was tingling.

You felt Jake peppering light kisses all over your neck and chest as you slowly came down from your high. With glossy eyes, you looked down at him and said “Wow… Jake that was amazing. Shit.” You were still livid with him, but couldn’t help but praise him after that incredible orgasm. He grabbed you by the back of your waist, pulling you close to his body, and flipped you over so you were now underneath him. “Oh you didn’t think we were done now, did ya sweetheart? No, no, no… I know you had fun hate fucking me but it’s my turn to show you how much I want you. Show you how much I love you.” With that, he slowly started pumping in and out of you. He was still rock hard and deep inside you as he hadn’t pulled out of you from before. You moaned and closed your eyes when he started moving his hips. Jake cupped your jaw bringing his forehead flushed to yours. “Nuh-uh. Keep those eyes on me, sweetheart. I want to look into those pretty eyes when I make you cum on my cock again.” His thumb went to your bottom lip, tugging it down so your mouth was slightly parted, as he brought his lips to yours in a heated, passionate kiss. Jake continued his deep, long strokes and swallowed your soft whimpers and moans in the process. “Does that feel good, sweetheart? You were made for me. Feel how perfectly I fill you up?” You couldn’t help it as your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer, deeper into you, “Yes, Jake. Fuck. Please, more.” Your eyes welled up with tears when he quickly pulled out of you. “What the- What the hell, Jake?”

“Turn over. On your hands and knees. Now.” You obliged his demand right away. Waiting, begging for him to put his cock back inside and start fucking you again. Jake got behind you and started teasing your pussy, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit as you involuntarily arched your back more and pushed your hips back. You could tell he was smirking when he said, “Patience, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want. I want to take my time and show you how much I fucking love you.” Finally, he lined his cock up with your dripping entrance and groaned as he pushed himself inch by inch into you once again. You lowered yourself onto your forearms, sticking your ass up even more and moaned into the sheets. Jake picked up his speed, setting a relentless pace. Fucking into you deep and hard now. “Fuck, sweetheart. You look so fucking beautiful taking my cock so damn well. Do you want to see?” Before you could get a word out, he grabbed you by the neck and pulled you up so your back was pressed to his front. He pointed at the full length mirror in your bedroom, angled perfectly towards the bed for moments like these. He loved watching the look on your face as he touched and pleasured every inch of you body, and tonight was no exception. “Look at yourself. Look at how your body reacts to mine. How it needs mine. How much I need you.” You couldn’t hold back your moans at this point. Just the way he spoke to you was enough to make you cum again. He always made you feel wanted. Always made you feel appreciated. In this moment, you couldn’t even remember why you had been jealous. Jake was yours. You were his. That had been evident since you met. He could feel you getting close again so he reached around to your front and starting rubbing tight circles on your clit. He kept his eyes on your face from behind you through the mirror, almost mimicking your facial expressions. Jake got off on making you feel good. That’s all he ever wanted. It didn’t take much longer. “I love you, sweetheart. You know that, right? I love you so fucking much.” The heat started to spread throughout your body. Your body went numb for a brief second before the orgasm ripped through you, sending tidal waves of pleasure to every limb. Jake felt your walls flutter and spasm around his cock as he came with you. Filling you up with his cum and fucking it deep into your pussy. Your head fell back on his shoulder. You both attempted to calm your heavy breathing and panting as you came down together from quite possibly the best orgasm you both had ever had. Yup, you were wrong. THAT was the hardest you had ever came. Jake grabbed your chin, bringing his mouth to yours once again as he whispered “Tell me you love me too, sweetheart.” You looked into his caramel brown eyes and without hesitation said, “You know I love you, Jake. I love you so much it hurts.” He smiled, slowly pulled out of you and you both immediately missed the feeling of being as physically close as possible. He lightly kissed your lips and told you not to move. Jake cleaned you up and ushered you into the bed naked so he could hold you close as you both slowly drifted off to sleep. “I guess I should get mad at you more often.”

[welcome-to-green-hills]

He looks so huggable ❤️🥹❤️

[jrreigns]

Letters from the Other Side

The sea washes over the sides of the steamship, taking with it the algae stuck to it. You almost hope the waves can take you with it, the nerves getting the better of you as you leant over the rail. Come see me, you read the letter over and over again, your stomach fluttering, I want to see you.

CW: Post-war Levi x fem!reader, civilian!reader

A/N: Some post-war Levi goodness after the angst I’ve posted this past month. ~2.5k words of fluff and romance. If this does well, I’ll probably write the super romantic smut next.

Credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers!

Three years after the Rumbling and things were starting to return to a sense of normalcy in the Stohess district. At least as normal as things can get when the twisted mentality of the Yeagerists and their seizing control of the military dominated the news. Your mother and father tell you not to worry, but you’ve been worried ever since the walls disappeared and the Survey Corps regiment disbanded.

Or rather, you have only really been worried over a single person, the man with the raven locks and the dull gray eyes, dull eyes that glittered when you spoke to him. You were still a woman, and a woman has intuition for those sorts of things like attraction, and Captain Levi couldn’t help how flustered he got whenever he saw you. Your father was the owner of a blacksmith company, and you often bumped into Levi along with Commander Smith several times a month.

Humanity’s strongest, you’d think in awe, where you had imagined a big brute, now you saw the man for what he was.

Why’d he come along was always unknown to you, but as your father and the commander spoke privately in another room, you offered small conversation and tea while he waited. Where small talk began, somehow a deep appreciation for the other bloomed, and the visits began to feel like the visits of the suitors that bombarded your home on occasion. He’d gift you single flowers, it’s all I can afford, he’d say meagerly. You’d thank him with a kiss on the cheek each and every time. And each and every time a ferocious tinge of red would adorn his face.

The timing never seemed to be right with either of you, it always seemed like when one was ready to take the leap, the other had other obligations waiting. Wait for me, were his selfish last words to you and you nodded your head as you gave him a final good-bye.

It had already been three years. You were already on the cusp of giving up.

It had been a nice breezy morning when you received his first letter. The unfamiliar stamps had caught both you and your parents off-guard, but nonetheless they gave you the privacy to open it. There, in the small garden of your home, tears welled up in your eyes as you skimmed through it.

It was a letter from Captain Levi.

Or rather Levi, just Levi, as the letter so said. I have told them to stop calling me captain, but these brats never learn. You giggled inwardly at his words, tears welling up in your eyes. You read it one more time, much slower this time, familiarizing yourself with his handwriting, the slant in his letters, his signature, everything. You familiarized yourself with the names Gabi and Falco, children you did not know but instantly loved with the way they cared for Levi.

At the very bottom, a hopeful wish that you will respond, signed next to his name.

Of course you will.

Your father stood confused as you gathered parchment and a pen to write, finding it odd that his moody daughter was suddenly so lively. Perhaps it’s the engagement, he thought, and let you be.

Your ring twinkled under the summer sun, and yet nothing has caused more glee than the very letter you were responding to. You wrote about the situation in Paradis, you wrote about the kindness of the queen, and you wrote about how business was booming for your father, despite the war having been over. The thought saddened you, but you quickly sign the letter and add a note that you excitedly await his next letter.

It’s not that you fail to mention your engagement, rather some deep part of you didn’t want to mention it. Your betrothed was a good man, hand picked by your father, you had accepted to keep his worries at bay that you wouldn’t end up husbandless and with no children.

How quickly Levi’s letters can have you questioning your familiar duties.

We restored some of the land ruined by the war, Levi writes, many foreigners are starting to settle here again.

You can’t help the sense of admiration that fills you up. It filled you up when he’d visit with the commander, and it still filled you up now. A military man, you wonder if he’s still as strong as when you met him. Humanity’s strongest, you wondered if he still thought about you and the flowers he’d gift you.

I’d like to visit it one day, you write, perhaps a change of scenery would be nice. All this yeagerist talk has me going mad.

I’d like to visit you one day, you will yourself to write, but you don’t. You had been lovestruck years ago, perhaps the captain no longer harbored the same feelings. Perhaps the captain has found someone new, perhaps the captain has married.

Sadness consumes you. After all, you were just friends back then, right?

You trash your letter and write a plainer one instead. It hadn’t even reached half a page when you sealed it, wrote his address on the front of it and set it aside for the postman to pickup tomorrow.

“Honey,” you can hear your mother call, “James is here to see you.” You force your best smile to greet your husband-to-be.

It’s weeks before the next letter arrives. The pretty orange and red tree leaves were beginning to fall, a cozy chill running through the district. Your wedding preparations were already underway when the postman calls out to you, a single letter in his hands, the stamps it bore already familiar to you.

More talk of restoration, recovery, Gabi and Falco’s shenanigans, when finally you reach the last bit of the letter. I don’t mean to bother you, Levi writes, your last letter felt abrasive. I understand if things have changed. Everything has changed.

You wonder what goes through Levi’s mind when he writes to you.

No, things have not changed. Things still felt the same, at least they did to you. Still, you couldn’t ignore your engagement anymore as you saw your mother debate through wedding ribbons in the distance and you finally will yourself to write and tell him the news.

I’m engaged, it feels awful to write it, my engagement is a long one, though, and so I’m sorry if the letter was short. I must’ve been busy.

You write of other things, of the rising tension amongst good folks like your family who didn’t want to fuel another war, and the yeagerists. You write of how the talks of peace by the ambassadors (who you found out were actually part of the same regiment as him) were falling on deaf ears.

I’d like to see you, you finally write, I’d like to see what the other side looks like.

You add the last bit in a final moment of hesitation, sign your name and set it aside, a deep breath falling from your lips.

“You’re changing the wedding date again, and to a later date might I add,” your father bellows out to you.

“Father, please,” you reply, exasperated, trying to escape the dining room and into your own, a new letter in hand, “I will get married in time, what’s the rush?”

“The rush is that you’re not young anymore, I beg you to reconsider.”

You shut the door behind you, shaky fingers coming to pry the letter open. You force yourself to read slowly, absorbing every single inked word coming from Levi’s fingertips.

You skip his polished words of annoying governmental policies being implemented on his side and go straight to the heart of the letter, his real response to you.

Congratulations on your engagement, he begins, I’m surprised you haven’t even married yet.

That? That is what he has to say? You scoff, a slight irritation blooming.

I don’t look like before—I’ve lost an eye and my right hand is destroyed, his letter continues, I look awful.

I’m not humanity’s strongest anymore.

You don’t know why these words strike you deeply. Years and a great distance separate you from what Levi is or was for that matter, yet it isn’t Levi’s exterior that ever affected you in the first place. It was the small talks and the small gifts, it was his tinged cheeks and his intrepid way of speaking around your people who have only seen the refined things in life.

You could never look awful to me, you write in your response, a wave of heat flaring up on your cheeks, you’re just trying to get me not to go.

Levi’s letters continue well into the deeper part of winter, the leaves have long since fallen, snow beginning to gather amongst the branches. The winters where he lived were harsh, and he writes of how they were causing the ache in his knee to worsen. You spend some of your money to send him some ointment you purchased from a local medic.

He writes to you of how the snow reminds him of when the Survey Corps would serve hot chocolate on the off chance. You send him chocolate you bargain off a local vendor.

The signs of Levi’s homesickness don’t escape you, even if he doesn’t admit it.

I could send you Stohess’s entire stock of goods if I can, you respond to his letters of thanks.

What would I do with all that, he responds to yours, breaking you into a fit of silent laughter.

I’ve missed your awful humor, you write casually. You wonder if you should trash this letter and begin a new one, but you don’t. I’ve missed you, you finish writing.

The budding roses in your garden remind you of your predicament.

“As much as I respect you,” James begins, “I won’t accept any other change to the wedding. If you won’t marry me then I’ll find someone who will.”

You comprehend his irritation, even if you don’t fully understand it.

He leaves you on your garden bench, exiting through the gate, just in time for the postman to arrive. Your feelings don’t subside, in fact they linger as you read Levi’s next letter.

Upon opening it, nervousness hits you as you see just how short the letter is. Policy change, annoying policy change.

The ambassadors have told me that postage to Paradis will be barred soon. Your eyes widen. Despite the nice spring breeze, your body suddenly feels so cold.

If I don’t hear from you again, I wanted to wish you a happy marriage. Your eyes well with tears, but it’s his next words that move you.

Unless you change your mind. Come see me. I want to see you. Just as you’re about to trash the envelope, a small flower catches your eye. It was dried up and rather lonely, but you hold it close to you as small tears slip down your cheeks.

The next morning, you try to give the postman your next letter but he just shakes his head in response.

“Apologies ma’am, the military has ordered a full stop for all international mail.” You thank him anyway, despite how distraught you feel.

Your wedding is within two weeks. The white dress in the corner of your room haunts you. Although lace with spring flowers were added to match the season, it only made it look like the kind of dress you wore on your deathbed.

There was no more rescheduling your wedding date, there were no more letters to look forward to, you could only look over the last letter, his final request.

You longed for Levi. Did he long for you?

Come see me, I want to see you.

Despite the spring air, a heat that resembled summer humidity burned through you.

“It’s a one way trip if you decide to head to the other side,” the hefty man tells you, “military has barred all incoming and outgoing mail, I wouldn’t be surprised if they bar incoming ships soon.”

This was it, the point of no return. You had written your last letter addressed to your parents—an apology for doing what you are doing. No, your heart hasn’t seized its rampant beating since Levi’s last letter. You need to see him.

You board without much of a glance back.

For days, sea sickness threaten to put a damper on your good (albeit nervous) mood, your only fuel the letters stored in your small suitcase, rereading them every night as the darkness of the ocean tormented you.

Finally, the crewmen announce that you will be arriving in the morning. The sun was setting off in the horizon—you clutched his last letter as you take a brief moment to absorb this feeling of resilience that surged through you. You’d get to see Levi soon, you’ve waited enough. Here, near the rails of the ship, you long for him, nerves filling your stomach.

The sea washes over the sides of the steamship, taking with it the algae stuck to it. You almost hope the waves can take you with it, the nerves getting the better of you as leant over the rail. Come see me, you read the letter over and over again, your stomach fluttering. I want to see you.

Past the plethora of persons disembarking, past the many political volunteers ushering about far-off dreams of peace that were unachievable, you navigate through unknown territory in an effort to find him. Fingers pointed, people spoke foreign directions as they glanced at the address on your envelope. It has all brought you here.

Face to face with a young girl, too young to be married.

“Ah—sorry,” you begin, “I was told Levi Ackerman lived here.”

“Yeah he does,” she begins suspiciously, “I’ll get him.” The door closes again and already you feel out of your element. Perhaps this was a mistake, you wish the ground can swallow you whole. Peering eyes look at you through a nearby window, ones that belonged to the young girl who just spoke to you, and another who you haven’t met.

“That’s her? No way,” you can hear them say. Suddenly the door opens, and dull gray eyes that bore a hint of annoyance soften and make way for a familiar glitter that reminded you of simpler times.

“Levi.”

He whispers your name, suddenly hiding his maimed hand, trying to get you to see his good side, the side with his working eye. But you don’t see that. You see the man who gifted you flowers, you see the man whose cheeks you once kissed.

You will yourself to move and you do, grabbing the hand behind him and crashing into him in an embrace. Levi’s face is red, and he glances at the window to see Gabi and Falco gawking at them. He waves them off annoyingly and they give him a thumbs-up as they pull away.

Hands come to wrap around you, lips kissing your forehead.

“You came,” he whispers into your hair.

“Of course.”

[viquipo]

You should draw the n6 playing uno or something!

I think this one deserves its own thing because the idea of them finding a card deck in the jungle and just sitting on the ground playing is really funny to me

[dingledraw]

Lady Antonia J. Crowley

[nanstar200]

HI‼️‼️

MORE FNAF/SPAMTON!!! LOVE U GUYS 🫶🫶

[mochidoodle]

in my head this is what happened during TYL training arc 🦔 💜

[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.

[assiraphales]

we don’t talk enough about how romeo + juliet 1996 was a pinnacle of artistry — from creative direction to fashion to the soundtrack to the set design to the cinematography

[biggestwilliamfinnfan]

good morning fun fact i am not normal about them in any capacity

[babooshkart]

Harry and Draco survive the apocalypse.

This is what happens after.

commission from @dodgerkedavra for their glorious and heartbreaking fic Love Will Abide for LCDrarry 2024! 🥹🥹🥹🥹 this fic rearranged my brain in the best way possible, i cried several times, and i read the whole thing in one sitting (to the detriment of my day job)((shhhhh)) 😭💕 everyone please join me in this madness 🍓🫂💕

[the-korova]

“You know what? Fuck you!!” *collages your queliot*

[aro-aceattorney]

Hey did u know that Henry and Mercedes canonically have a third kid named birdie

[gentlebeard]

Could you take care of a broken soul? Will you hold me now? Oh, will you take me home?

For @saltpepperbeard 💕 Show: Our Flag Means Death - Season 1 & 2 Music: Take Me Home by Jess Glynne YouTube

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

points at you. L deathnote in a skirt

[stuckinapril]

You are so productive and living your best life I admire it so much! I don't understand how you do it... do you have any advice for forcing yourself to do the things you know are good for you even when you are feeling sad and not up to it? Have a lovely day ❣️❣️❣️

Plan your day hour by hour. This actually revolutionized my life. Plan when you’ll wake up, plan what you’ll do every hour of the day, and make it as realistic as possible to stick to your goals. Start with simple things and gradually ramp it up. Don’t overwhelm your day with 60 different goals. I’d pair one passive goal (be on your phone less, for example) with one active goal (study more, take more walks, read more) and go from there. It’s better to start small and be consistent than to start big and quit one day in.

Lower the resistance necessary to accomplish tasks. If you have somewhere to be early tomorrow, plan your outfit the night before. If you have studying to do, have your textbooks/notebooks/notes on your desk by the time you wake up. If you have an overwhelming task, break it into smaller subtasks and focus on them one at a time. If you don’t want to be on your phone in the morning, charge it somewhere you won’t be able to see the moment you open your eyes. I’m trying to overcome the phone issue right now, so instead of setting an alarm on my phone I just bought a digital alarm clock bc I know I’m way less likely to get on my phone that way. I’m lowering the effort needed to actually get started on a task.

Have motivational things handy for when you’re down!! I’m a highly visual person, so it actually really helps me to make moodboards. I have moodboards for things I wanna accomplish, moodboards for things I’ve already accomplished, a Pinterest board for affirmations etc etc. I have a list on my notes app for all the reasons why it’s important to me to accomplish my goals. I have another notes app page dedicated to pasting all the motivational quotes that help me whenever I’m in a funk. You could even print them and hang them up on your wall if you want. In times where instant gratification overshadows getting things done, make it very accessible to remember why they’re important to you to begin with.

Romanticize your tasks. I make silly to-do lists, I make sure I’m always in cute outfits when I’m running errands, I put on perfume and mascara and lip gloss even if I’m literally all on my own in my bedroom about to do a 3 hour study session. I love getting manicures bc there’s nothing more satisfying than studying with pretty dark red fall nails. This may sound extra but I go through my notes pretending I’m Elle Woods or something bc it makes it so much fun. A huge part of why I’m consistent with going to the gym is bc I buy pretty workout fits that just make me feel good. I wear lingerie under my clothes wherever I am bc it makes me feel like a bad bitch even if no one sees it. I don’t start a task with the thought in mind that I want to get it done already—I try to make the act of doing it in and of itself as engaging as possible.

To piggyback off that point, switch your environment if your current one isn’t serving you. Don’t just default to quitting if one approach isn’t working. If studying in your bedroom isn’t doing it, go to the nearest coffee shop. If the coffee shop isn’t working, do the library. Study indoors. Study outdoors. Study in nature. Hell study at a beach if you want to. It doesn’t matter where you are if you’re getting things done. Exhaust all your alternatives before calling it quits.

Set firm boundaries with yourself. This is so big. Self-care is absolutely treating yourself, but it’s also being your own parent and disciplining yourself if you feel like you’re not putting your all into something. In a world where it’s very easy to go “just a few more minutes on my phone” “I’ll do it tomorrow” “I can skip working out today” it’s really important to be able to parent yourself and exercise some tough love and do some things even if you don’t feel like you want to. I really struggle with this as a gen z girl bc this is THE era of instant gratification. But my goals are just more important to me than momentary comfort.

No zero days. Just bc you’re not being your 100% on one day doesn’t mean you should just lie down and do nothing. Being at 50% performance is better than being at 0%. I try to make sure I get some light tasks done on days where I don’t feel like going all in. It helps me not feel like I’ve just derailed my whole life, which consequently helps me move on from my ruts faster.

Look ahead. Can not emphasize this enough. Death motivates me like nothing else. You do not have an infinite time on this earth. You don’t want to be at the same place you’ve been at a year from now. Resist the “I’ll do it tomorrow” mentality as much as possible. Change happens in small increments & there’s no better time for it than the present. What may seem like little things you can skip out on now can quickly snowball into the very things that are preventing you from being where you want to be.

Acknowledge your limits. Someone with two full-time jobs and school should not be comparing themself to the progress of someone with one part-time job and like nothing else. I’m currently studying full-time and also trying to maintain a consistent workout routine, so I don’t expect myself to recreationally read more than 30 minutes a day, even if ideally I’d like that time to be way higher. I know it’s pointless to compare myself to someone who reads 70 books a month but has much less workload than I do. Comparison is inherently flawed bc no one else has been the dealt the cards you’ve been dealt. Tailor your schedule to your own unique situation. Make a list of your priorities and assign them to your hours accordingly.

Listen to your needs!! Mental health is the most important thing. You need to be in tune with yourself to know when you could be pushing yourself a little harder, and when it’s necessary to give yourself time off. If I’m in an actual burnout, I go out with friends. I go see a movie. I give myself the grace of being human and step back for a little bit. It’s completely okay to have those days, and acknowledging them helps you recover quicker. Take care of yourself <3