#or 'think'!

[mcl4r3n]

(wait) they don't love you like i love you

Dando, 800w, Mature (for @landoisokay)

---

There is a mole, right there, on Lando’s left ear, and another, just below it. 

There’s one to the left of his neck. Another, near his chin, hidden by his little patchy beard. Another, on his cheek. Another, by his nose. 

They are guides for Daniel to press his lips to, and he’s always been good at following directions. 

Lando’s body is mapped out with them, instructions on how best to make Lando feel good. Where to bite down on soft flesh so that Lando will close his eyes and sigh through his teeth.

His hips provide Daniel with the trail he needs to follow so that he can put his hands on hardened muscle, into the dip of skin that goes from smooth to rough, into the garden of hair where Lando’s cock lies thick and hard and hot. 

“Daniel.” Lando’s voice is only a measure above a whisper. Daniel loves the way Lando says his name in bed. He’s heard it, over and over—angry, full of mirth, clipped, demanding. The way Lando says it when he’s nestled in Daniel’s comforter is his favorite. “You’re going too slow.” 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Daniel presses another kiss to Lando’s clavicle. He strokes Lando’s cock once, just to tease, before he brings his hand back to Lando’s nipple, takes it between thumb and forefinger, and pinches, sure and steady, while Lando’s back arches off the bed. “I wanna take my time with you.”

Lando’s cock leaks precum from that. Daniel loves to watch when it happens, loves the way Lando’s body responds to him. 

There’s no music around them, just the low hum of the hotel room’s AC and their steady breathing. Daniel braces himself over Lando and steals a kiss that Lando readily gives up, tongue sliding against his, insistent and impatient. He moans into it, and Daniel swallows it with his next breath. 

“Danny,” Lando whines, and this, of course, makes Daniel’s cock twitch against Lando’s thigh. It’s a conditioned response now, really. Lando whines, and Daniel gets hard. 

“What do I do with you, hmm?” Daniel skates his tongue along Lando’s sternum. “Always so impatient.”

Lando is ruinous, to him. Ten years his junior, bright and fresh. A fucking spark. 

Daniel’s tasted love before, held its shape and pressed him palms into it, but never like this, never packaged and presented like this. Lando’s hands claw at his back so that Daniel has no choice but to kiss him again, sucking on the tip of Lando’s tongue while he slots himself between spread legs. 

He hasn’t said it, yet, is the thing. He hasn’t pulled the vocabulary from his brain just yet to be able to transmit that information across with his words. The year has been hard, their relationship only really still very much in its early days, even if it’s been seven months since Lando first kissed him, like a calf getting on its legs and finding its footing. 

But Daniel loves him. Daniel spends days apart from him, and days near him, crossing paths on the paddock when he happens to be there for a race weekend, and they glance at each other over a sea of mechanics and the navy blues and papaya-oranges of teams he used to call home. 

Lando hasn’t said it, either, not to him directly. But instead, Lando posts photos of himself wearing Daniel’s clothing, hats he knicked from his suitcase. Lando gets interviewed and says, “I had dinner with Daniel in Monaco,” and, “I love Daniel,” to a crowd of people. 

But he’s never said it to his face. So Daniel waits, and bides his time. He isn’t in a hurry. 

They move together, slowly, undemanding, despite Lando’s protests, and Daniel chases every kiss with another one. He strokes Lando to completion before he even gets a chance to fuck him, and then does so again, when he’s balls-deep inside of him, unhindered by any sort of latex, Lando’s strong legs locking behind his back to keep him in place. 

There’s spunk that plasters their bellies together, after, having fallen asleep with their limbs pretzeled and bordering on uncomfortable. Daniel comes to, the sensation of fingers stroking through his curls coaxing him from slumber. 

He props himself up on an elbow and wrinkles his nose, and Lando giggles, high-pitched and kind of grossed out, the way they have to unstick from each other like they’re caught in those adhesive rat trap sort of things. 

The sun has set in Silverstone. Tomorrow, Lando has free practice, and Daniel will once again sit on the sidelines while twenty other men live out his dream. Except that he has testing the week later, and Lando’s staying to watch. 

The timing comes to him then, while they’re sticky and sweaty and wrapped up in each other. 

“I love you. I hope that’s okay.” 

Lando smiles, eyes colored like deep moss, crinkling at the edges, mouth stretched so his cheeks bunch up. “Yeah,” Lando sighs. “Yeah, that’s quite alright, Danny.” 

Daniel’s eyes find a mole to the right of Lando’s Adam’s apple. He kisses him there. 

[foolfortune]

[emilnikos]

love it when my friends say "you would do numbers on Tumblr" buddy I am on Tumblr. and the number is 3

[ceaselessbasher]

I swear to god one of these days were going to see a video of Amaury Guichon and he's going to be making some wings and they are going to look dope as hell, the detail of each feather will be breathtaking, he'll spray paint them to perfection, but as the video goes on, he's not building any sort of winged creature, just the wings. And then there's a human-sized harness (also made of chocolate, somehow, he can do it). And he's attaching the wings to the harness. And he's putting the harness on and he demonstrates how he can flap the wings. And then he'll be off. Out the window and up and up and up. And we'll be looking at the livestream (it's a livestream now) and we'll scream "No, Amaury, the sun! It's going to melt the wings!". But he knows this already. And he is free.

[koobiie]

shoutout to everyone who wants to infodump but cant string together coherent thoughts to form sentences and instead just look at you like this

[muttmoxley]

sometimes im like "wow holy shit im being really fucking annoying. i should stop talking" and then i pull out my magic 8 ball and it says "youve always been annoying and your friends chose to talk you anyways. youll be fine" and im like wow thanks magic 8 ball. and then the ogre attacks me

[charlesoberonn]

It's gonna be such a funny mess when Donald Trump dies of a stroke on April 1st, 2024.

Naturally everybody will think it's fake because of the date only to lose their minds (both positively and negatively based on their opinion of trump) when realizing it's real

There will be massive celebrations in the streets and on social media and lots of predictable "don't speak ill of the dead" discourse about those celebrations

Weird evangelicals will pull some weird number trick talking about how Jesus was conceived on April 1st and that makes Trump a sort of messiah and people will make fun of that

The Republicans (after they're done with the faux-sadness and faux-outrage) will stomp over each other to be his successor but none of them will succeed. They'll tear each other apart and have no single nominee for the November elections.

There will be discourse about if Biden and the living former presidents should go to his funeral (they won't, he was a traitor insurrectionist)

The Ukraine-Russia War immediately goes in favor of Ukraine as morale in the Kremlin is reduced. China similarly backs off from its threats on Taiwan.

Ten thousand new memes are made, some sticking around for years to come.

Not a month later a bunch of unofficial biographies of Trump hit the bookshelves, many with new details about just how awful he was.

[everythingwasnormalhere]

pls rb if you think cuddling doesn't have to be s3xual

im tryna prove a point to my bf's mother help me out

[demonboyhalo]

collection of useful things tumblr has taught me:

even if you can't fall asleep, laying down with your eyes closed will still rest your body

you don't have to brush your teeth standing up

you don't have to do any chore standing up, from dishes to showering

you don't have to shower with the lights on

if you can't brush your teeth, flossing and a tongue scraper gets rid of plaque and bad breath

if you can't do that, mouthwash kills a lot of bacteria

eating "unhealthy" food is better than eating no food

you can make the same meal everyday for however long you still want it

some pills come in syrups or chewables if you can't swallow them

kids nutritional shakes can be a quick way to get fuel if you can't eat/don't have time

if walking hurts/exhausts you on a regular basis, canes and rollers are for you, no matter how young you are

we have free will—if doing something "out of the ordinary" makes life easier for you, do it

if you have even a dollar to spare, please consider donating to Alaikum's family.

they're a large family at only 10% of their goal to evacuate, and could use any help you can give!!

[cannibalchicken]

[great-and-small]

My grandfather and my godfather (a beloved neighbor and dear family friend) had a long standing bet- for one dollar- about who would die first. Both of them being slightly pessimistic (in the funny way), they both insisted that they themselves would be the first to die. Any time my grandfather had a health scare, he’d gleefully call up my godfather to boast that he’d be passing “any day now” and he was sure to win the bet. It was a big family joke and they were always amiably sparring and comparing notes about who was in worse shape, medically speaking.

When my grandfather was in hospice care dying of liver cancer, my godfather was quite ill also. It took him great effort to make the journey to see his dying friend. As he came into the room, supported by a family member, he shuffled to my grandpa’s bedside and silently handed him a dollar bill. He was ceding his loss of the bet, as they both knew who was going first. My grandpa had been in quite bad shape for a while and was no longer able to speak but let me tell you he snatched that dollar with unexpected strength and literally laughed aloud. He knew exactly what the gesture meant and he couldn’t help but find the humor within the grief. It was the last time any of us heard my grandpa laugh, as he passed shortly after.

When I talk about my appreciation for “dark humor” I’m not so much thinking about edgy jokes, but rather the human instinct to somehow, impossibly, both find and appreciate the absurdity that is so often folded into the profound grief of life and death. When I tell this story I think it kind of perturbs people sometimes, but it’s honestly one of my favorite memories about two men I really deeply admired. I could never hope for anything more than for my loved ones to remember me laughing until the very end, and taking joy in a little joke as one of my final acts.

[riacte]

not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing [what would happen between earth and the moon if the earth stopped spinning as illustrated by xkcd randall munroe]

[pirateprincessjess]

When I was a kid my family pretended to get raptured so I would think I was left behind on earth while they all went to heaven.

I was like 8 years old and my sister and mom had gotten really into the Left Behind novels (bible fan fic about the rapture). In the books when the rapture happened the clothes that people were wearing when they got raptured were left behind in neatly folded piles.

One day when I was getting home from school my family decided that they would leave piles of neatly folded clothes around the house, and then hide in the basement.

The intended effect was that I would get home and see the clothes then, think that my family had been raptured and that I wasn’t good enough to get into heaven… or something?

The problem was that I had never read these books, and didn’t really think about the rapture very often. There was no reason that I would see some laundry on the floor and think “The rapture happened and I’ve been abandoned by God! I’ll never see my family again!! Oh nooo!!!!”

I just sat down and watched cartoons and eventually my family got bored and revealed that they were all hiding in the basement.

It’s a good thing I didn’t understand the joke, otherwise that shit would have been traumatic.

[rottenfleshnbones]

i care btw. i care abt the song ur listening to or the bug u saw or how u just got outta the shower or how ur happily hanging out w ur friends or how ur kinda sad or how good was the meal u just had or ur fav character from an indie game nobody knows or if u chugged down some water. i always will

[mayhemchicken-artblog]

in the hour or so it took me to draw this op turned reblogs off

EDIT: reblogs are STAYING OFF. op was right and correct and i have never regretted making a post as much as this one. if you want to reblog my art you can reblog something else from my blog. or commission me, lord knows i deserve financial compensation for the nightmare this post has put me through