#please let me know if they dont

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[alastwhorez]

Pussy Drunk Alastor

♡ Pairing: Human Alastor x Wife Reader

♡ Summary: Alastor loves getting lost in his wife's thighs

♡ cw: 18+, MDNI, alastor is ooc, oral, afab!reader, poorly written

♡ an: first time writing for alastor, so it's probably not the best. Be nice! Possible spelling errors, not proofread.

🦌 Alastor loves nothing more after a long day than to come home and get lost in between his loving wife's thighs.

🦌 The moment he walks through the door he is walking up behind you, grabbing you by the waist, and throwing your smaller frame over his shoulder as he stalks to your shared bedroom.

🦌 Alastor wastes no time throwing you on the bed and hiking up your skirt as he swiftly pulls your underwear off, tossing them behind him to get lost on the floor.

🦌 His smile widens when he sees how wet you already are. Smirking up at you before pushing his glasses on top of his head, having his hair pushed back as well.

🦌 Alastor puts your legs over his shoulders and starts kissing up your leg starting at your ankle. He kisses, licks and bites his way up to your center where he stops and you can feel the cold air of him exhaling on you before he dips back down running his tongue up your folds

🦌 He starts slow, teasing you. Short little kitten licks everywhere but where you crave him most. Smirking and holding back a chuckle when he feels you wiggle trying to move your hips so his tongue is where you crave it.

🦌 Alastors hand wonder all up your body, cupping your tits through your dress before he is pushing it up over your chest, groaning at the sight before him.

🦌 Your back arches off the bed as he starts giving you longer, harder licks before adding a finger. Your hands try to find his hair but he pins them down on the bed.

🦌 He adds another finger as you yell out his name, back arching, and legs trying to close around his head. He groans into you knowing you won't last much longer.

🦌 Alastor is grinding and rutting against the bed trying to get any friction he can on his leaky cock. He's moaning as his hold on your thighs tighten. He moans your name against you, getting lost in the taste of you on his tongue.

🦌 Alastor swears your the best thing he has ever tasted. He's eating you like a starved man as he continues to grind on the bed, feeling his cock twitch every few seconds.

🦌 He has you cumming for the nth time on his tongue. “one more baby, just one more” He says breathlessly against you as his tongue continues to flick.

🦌 He is biting, licking,and sucking anywhere he can reach. His hips speed on as he humps the bed, wishing it was your sweet cunt.

🦌 Alastor feels his cock twitch when you sweetly moan his name. Not long after he is moaning, and eyes cross as he shoots his load in his pants, moaning your name as he does.

🦌 He pulls away kissing up your body as you throw your dress over your head to lost in the room. He's laying on top of you, head in your neck, kissing and licking as he tells you how much he loves you.

🦌 His glasses are long gone, hair falling over his eyes as you run your hands through his, kissing his forehead. “Are you going to fuck me or not Al?”

🦌 You feel him smirk against your neck before he is ripping his clothes off. Whining at how sensitive his cock is before lining it up with your entrance.

🦌 Alastor Loves nothing more than to get lost in between your thighs. Anyway you'll let him.

[slavhew]

do you ever get reminded of a ship, remember a piece of fanart of it that you loved, then after a day long search realize that you just imagined it? and then try to draw it yourself?

prllb btbtt ALT VERISONS

[haveihitanerve]

Somebody: Jasons so angry and aggressive and kills people- hes the most violent batfamily member Bruce-I-would-have-killed-joker-had-fucking-superman-not-stopped-me-and-I-would-do-it-again-if-any-harm-befalls-my-family-also-i-beat-up-people-daily-as-therapy-wayne: what? Dick-i-was-planning-a-mans-murder-at-age-eight-and-would-have-done-it-also-i-didn't-have-superman-so-i-did-kill-joker-Grayson-Wayne: huh? Tim-My-body-count-is-probably-six-digits-by-now-but-it-doesn't-count-if-bruce-doesn't-know-stalker-Drake-Wayne: repeat that? Damian-i-came-with-the-katana-and-a-body-count-at-age-eight-wayne: what did you say about Ahki? Stephanie-i-will-crack-mad-funny-jokes-while-beating-your-face-in-with-a-brick-Brown-Wayne: waht? Barbara-i-wouldn't-but-like-i-could-and-i-know-you-and-your-entire-family-extending-to-your-great-uncle-thirteen-times-removed-Gordon-Wayne: *typing on keyboard* what was that? Duke-I-created-a-cult-about-robin-and-also-i-was-raised-in-gotham: sorry?

[daily-hanamura]

[onsomenewsht]

now playing: Don't Tell My Mom

< track 3 || track 5 >

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader (past), María León x Reader (platonic), Leah Williamson x Reader (platonic)

》 words count: +1.5k

》 what you don't know won't hurt you, oh / Mama, I'll lie, just for you

As soon as your phone lights up with a Facetime call, you know. 

No warning message, no text just to make sure you’re free to talk. A cold Facetime request from María, one of your best friends but definitely someone who means trouble if calling like that.

Launching yourself on your sofa unceremoniously, you accept the call and your fate as Mapi’s grin appears on your broken screen. How can she be so smug even miles away goes beyond you.

“Who died?”

Not the most warm way to start a conversation.

“Hola a ti también, nena” (Hello to you too)

“You look awful”

She looks amazing, she’s practically glowing and you’re happy for her.

Also, you’re happy for yourself too. It’s a relief this is not the scolding call you’ve been waiting for quite some time. It’s coming, you can feel it, but Ingrid enters the frame and you immediately know this is good news.

“Tienes que ser buena conmigo” (You should be nicer to me)

Mapi really isn’t the type to tiptoe around something so you don’t get why she didn’t start this conversation by screaming the news. Or making the journey and knocking on your door directly.

You let her be, she probably wants to enjoy it.

“Why should I? I moved to another country just to avoid it”

“Nena”, she pauses and her smile dims for a moment.

She knows English better than she lets everyone believe, so she gets the quip - or your attempt to joke about it. You’re not sure if it’s because of what you said or something else entirely, the two of you have yet to talk about the reason why you’re single and in another country.

Your transfer was eventful, to say at least. The faded blonde didn’t handle it very well, having taken you under her wing when you first moved from a mid-table club in your home country to Barcelona Femení - after a couple of years on a loan in different leagues too.

María’s the one who welcomed you in the locker room with rapid words and contagious enthusiasm. She kept talking with you in Spanish, even if you needed an entire year to be able to hold a simple conversation in your third language, but she’s someone you relied on since the very beginning. 

María’s also the first one to realise something was growing between you and Alexia, the first - and the loudest - to cheer when you mindlessly kissed in front of the team mid night out, the first one to give you both a shovel talk.

Sometimes it’s way too easy to forget how many people you can hurt with a decision that’s just your own to make.

You feel the need to take the conversation back on track.

“When is the wedding?”

“¿Quién te lo dijo?!” (Who told you?!)

“Your stupid face”, thankfully the Spaniard gets her brightness back at your words, “And I can see that huge rock even from here!”

Ingrid is matching a beaming smile, moving her hand closer to the camera and you can’t hold back your own joy. They truly deserve the devotion and support they share with one another. If you have to be happy for someone else’s love, you’re glad it’s for them.

And that ring is impressive. 

The memory of a beautiful ring hidden in a shoe box in the back of a closet makes you shiver. Is it still there or she got rid of it as first thing after dropping you off at the airport? Does Mapi know about it?

“Show off, that’s worth my value”

“Tonterías!, no eres tan buena” (Bullshit, you’re not even that good!)

“You are, she’s just too proud to admit it”, at Ingrid’s first words you immediately remember why lately she’s the one you like the most of the two.

“Haz la maleta y no quiero excusas, volverás aquí” (Pack you beg and no excuses, you’re coming back here)

Mapi’s witty remark is not missed, she saw you growing up and developing your very own unhealthy coping mechanism. Maybe you have a tendency to avoid confrontation, what about that? She goes for any adrenalin rush activity available when in denial so she’s not in the position to judge. 

You shift uncomfortably under their gazes, sitting upright but hitting the back of the sofa with your head.

You may be in a different country and there may be a screen between you and the pair, but María is still like a big sister to you and the other girl is basically the only reason you’re still sane and survived throughout your friendship with the Spaniard.

However, you can’t let them know how broken you are, not when you regret nothing that led to this.

“Why not Norway?”, worth a shot.

“We’re basically going to celebrate in any corner of the world, I don’t think you can miss this”

“Then I can be anywhere else, Ingrid”

“Mapi’s family is gonna be here”, and you’re her family too it’s what she’s too considerate to say aloud but you all hear anyway.

“I don’t think is a good idea, no one want me there”

“That’s not true”

“Nena, por favor!”

The silence is deafening, when you find the gut to look at your friends it’s easy to remember the love, the support, and respect that bond your relationships.

A transfer to another country, all the attempts to hide from the consequences of your own choices, the hearts broken. None of those things are really able to cut those kinds of connections.

“I’m happy for you two”, you say with the biggest and most sincere smile in a while.

Mapi accepts your decision to keep the conversation light, focusing on this happy and long awaited news. 

She’s glowing and you really are happy for her, for them. The desire to celebrate their love, to be there when they will share such pure joy with all the people they care about, sweeps away your fears of being confronted by the human form of the consequences of your own choices.

When the call ends, the usual weight you feel between your ribs doesn’t make your breathing heavier and the familiar bitter taste of guilt doesn’t pervade your mouth. 

You book a ticket to Barcelona before it all comes back to you.

~

“Mapi and Ingrid are getting married”

“It’s a plague!”

Leah is unlacing her boots, the two of you the last ones in the changing room after an additional training session the blonde insisted you needed. 

You’re playing in a slightly different position here, but you feel like those extra hours are more for her sake than your own, scared that you will find a way to avoid your new teammates if not involved in any possible activity.

You indulge her, you’re used to demanding and perfectionist captains after all.

“I have to go back to Barcelona”

“I bet, she’s gonna drag you there personally otherwise”

“María is not that―”

“I’m talking about Engen”, she smirks and she is right, Ingrid is way more effective in her convincing methods.

Still sitting on the bench in your training gear, you let her understand you’re not ready to leave yet. Not the room nor the conversation.

“What’s the problem, trotter?”

She managed to give you the worst nickname possible, making fun both of your way to run on the pitch and the fact you spent the past ten years in five different countries - it’s probably also a quip about the circumstances that bring you here but you give her the benefit of the doubt.

“No problem at all, I’m happy for them”

“They’re really cute”

“They are”, you miss them.

You miss the familiar embrace and the easy banter you share with María, you miss the warm support and the nights out with Ingrid, you miss the silence and the comforting methods Keira always found to take your homesickness away, you miss the funny and the cheerful attitude you wrap yourself around with Jana, Claudia and Ona. You miss them all.

You miss Alexia.

You miss how she always finds time to walk her dog out, doesn’t matter the weather or her busy schedule. You miss the subtle way she turns the radio’ volume up when a song she knows you like is on, and the not-so-subtle way she pretends to hate them all just to sing with you on the first chorus. You miss her body fitting perfectly all over your life, when moving in your house like it’s built around her, or when she’s ideally positioned on the pitch to receive your pass, or even when her hands find yours despite everything and everywhere you are.

You miss Alexia but you don’t deserve to grieve something you killed yourself.

“Do you need a pep talk from Kim?”

“Don’t you dare!”

Last time Leah called on your team captain to put up with your somber mood, you ended on the bench for two games yet sent her a nice bouquet as an apology - and as a thanks for the help.

“Look, you can’t hide from her forever”

“I can definitely try”

The smile she directs to you is both amused and bushed.

“I just don’t think our closest friend’s wedding is the best occasion to meet her for the first time after… well, after everything”, you admit while repeatedly hitting the changing room’s wall with the back of your head.

“Maybe not, maybe we will have to face them in the next Champion League’s draw”

She jinxed it.

[itsdefinitely]

c c caan you draw ted, , , pleas,e , ogugh ,, ,

even hatchetfield's resident asshole can find it in his heart to be kind sometimes

[thou-babbling-brook]

Guys, have we considered… 🤨

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Wei Wuxian eats a watermelon. Yep!

[vigilskeep]

SORRY this is MORE dialogue from lucanis’ recruitment quest i just need people to be going through this with me

[lokiiied]

ngl i got so scared they were gonna make mobius a fucking white picket fence two kids and a loving wife…and then they gave us “single dad” mobius “wife is long gone” hmm you’re really my friend? okay i ain’t arguing with a tall, handsome, dark haired stranger guess i’ll just follow you anywhere.

and then i was happy bc sylvie is so happy in her life!! by herself!!

and THEN i got so scared when loki & sylvie went for a drink and i was like alright here we go…and then i got “of course i know you. your friends are where they’re supposed to be. we’re writing our own stories. write your own.” and “i want my friends. i don’t want to be alone”

and then i was happy again bc she left to go listen to records!! and the record shop guy is cute! maybe she thought so. maybe not! she’s just vibing!!

and then i got, “it’s about who” while staring right at mobius.

what a fucking rollercoaster.

[lighthouseshepard]

it is. done.

[eggsploded]

mutant kids

[verilly]

On my knees for some post-Mithrun fluff rn.

POST MITHRUN FLUFF? I gotchu 😎 it’s going to be bullet points b t dubs, just so I can catch the right mind set… THANKSYU 4 THE REQUEST ILY <3

Mithrun x Reader

•••|•••|•••|•••|•••

Right. So after canon he heads back to Melini (with you, of course) to scout out monsters and demons with his side hustle of making noodles! So as a noble yourself, you follow him to help achieve his dreams!

However, Mithrun is still ticked off at the part where reviving isn’t a plausible option after death, so he’s extremely careful with you. So much so that after a month or so with you trailing with him on his search for monsters, he tosses you in the noodle shop (with the land he had claimed with his noble blood).

At this point, he’s been so surrounded in his want for monster/demon blood that he hasn’t exactly made any progress with the noodle making… and well, neither have you. So there you sat, alone in a big restaurant, with no customers at all, no one to keep you company or to keep you entertained!

So that’s when you decide to try to cook noodles on your own!

You grabbed as many how to guide’s you could from books all over your country, which included recipes from the western territories all the way to the eastern islands! You even scrounged up some old tattered papers from the ex-canaries, Senshi, and the trash.

Collecting herbs, grains, and whatever monster-like ingredients Laios sent to you through the mail.

You decided to keep most of your habits a secret from Mithrun, or at least as you can from him because you wanted to be the one to teach him when the day comes he wanted to pursue his other desire. You always schedule your time practicing for when he's away, and Mithrun being the man that he is always has a set pattern on doing things. Meaning he always came back home almost at the exact same time everyday.

The only other times he'd come home at a later time is when he gets lost, for he has the time of his life navigating the city streets. (This is rare because he likes using his teleportation magic a lot more than actually walking.)

So on this very special day, once you've decided your skills are up to the test, you served him home made noodles. Not only were they home made, so was the sauce/broth. You were quite proud of making such a delicious meal, now it was time to share your talent with your lover.

"Mithrun, wake up, I have a very special breakfast to share with you!" You say, pushing him back and forth from his sleeping state. You'd waken up hours earlier to prepare for this momentous occasion.

No response.

Maybe you should have planned the scheduling better? This was earlier than usual for the ex-captain to wake up... No! You were his partner, he should wake up for you!

"Mithrun wake up!!!" You groan loudly, stopping all your movements before shoving your face into his blanketed stomach, "Please please please please!"

With no words to utter, Mithrun begrudgingly arose from the bed, sitting right up to face you. You beamed with excitement as he looked to face you.

"Why don't you join me down at the resturaunt floor? I have set up something quite amazing down there." You put a finger to your chin and smile, "Plus I think you'll like it a lot!!"

Down the steps the two of you went, where in arrival was the bowl of noodles you had prepared only minutes before. They were served with scallions, mushrooms, a pantry load of seasonings, and whatever meat you had bought fresh from the market a day before.

"What is this?"

"It's noodles! That I made.. for you... 'cause you said you wanted to make them yourself and.... I can see where I messed up a little, but I did it so that I can help you in the future! When you wish to fufill your desire of noodle making!!!" You sheepishly say, a much smaller smile creeping up on your lips.

"I never said you messed up." He said smoothly, teleporting away from you and into the seat in front of the food. You follow closely behind him, sitting at the seat next to him.

"Go on, take a bite! It'll be all for nothing if we run out of time and you need to go out monster hunting." You tilt your head to the right, clasping your hands together.

He looks down at the meal in front of him, and his good eye flickers up and down between you and the noodles. After a few seconds past he picked up the nice utensils you placed next to the bowl and took his first bite.

"So how does it taste? Do you like it??!"

"I don't feel anything in particular for it." He murmurs calmly.

"Ah." Your world view shatters for a moment, before sucking in your pride, "So what makes you feel that way? I thought it was really good, but our tastes are quite different from each other..."

"It's a little too flavorful for me, but I'm... grateful that you spent so much time perfecting this for me. How long was it? A few months?"

"What!!? How did you know that I was..."

"You can't hide things from me, [name]. You'll never be able to succeed."

You stare at him for a second before collapsing on the table before you, "Arghh! I totally thought everything was going to go great, but as it turns out... Mithrun is just too good for me." You pull the bowl towards you, taking the utensils from Mithrun's hand, "And if you don't like it then you don't need to eat it."

"It's not my taste, but I don't mind. Please, I'd rather not leave any left overs, especially if it's a meal from you." His face seemed to soften as he said those few words, and your face reddened in response, letting out an "oh" as you correct your posture.

"Well then if you have time off anytime soon, you could stay here and I could teach you how to make your own noodles that suit your own taste. Then we could actually open the resturaunt to the people." You say sweetly, looking down at the food, watching it dissapear by each passing minute, "I'm sure every being here in Melini would love to eat food made by the hands of a noble. Maybe even the Canaries can home, I'm sure they'd enjoy a meal made by their captain."

"Mm... I'll stay here for today. My desire's growing after eating this d- uhm. Delicious meal you made for me." He states simply, putting the empty bowl and utensils to the side.

"Alright then." You get up from the seat next to him and take his hand, "I'll teach you everything I know." Another smile perks up on your lips as you pull him to the kitchen.

Mithrun in a kitchen. Who could've guessed?!

He's not very skilled at cutting, buthis use of magic fills in the void quite perfectly.

You help him a lot, which includes taking his hands in yours when he begrudgingly uses the knife.

He likes your touches but not the “weapon” in his hands.

You also teach him to pound the noodles, which you usually put lots of energy into, but for him not so much. You have to fill in for him most of the time.

There will come a day where Mithrun won’t go out on expeditions and instead stays with you in the restaurant, for a long time.

And to him, he wouldn’t want to spend his last few (hundreds of) years any differently.

•••|•••|•••|•••|•••

I tried to make it flufffy I don’t know if this is fluff

I hope you liked it :3 pls keep sending me stuff it’ll take like a day - ish for me to fill it out but I def will!!!!!!!

My masterlist is on profile :3

Lots of love, Yours truly.

[lost-in-fandoms]

This is inspired by my own post. Don't even look at me.

It's a long shot, and Daniel is perfectly aware of it as he rides the elevator up to Max's room, but he refuses to think too hard about it, afraid he will reconsider the sanity of it and turn back.

You see, they used to have this...thing, back in the day. It didn't happen often enough to give a name to it, but when Daniel got pole or won a race, Max would find him and get on his knees for him.

It had started in 2016, Max fresh faced and wide eyed, pulling him into the bathroom of the club they were in. Not in Monaco, not even Max was bold enough for that, but in Malaysia. It had been hot and wet, and Daniel had tangled his fingers in Max's sweaty hair, pulling hard enough to make tears spring in his blue eyes, before coming down his throat.

Their thing had always been one way only. Max had been the one getting on his knees, and Daniel had never offered to get him back. It had been a relief, when Max had started winning more than him, he didn't want to owe blowjobs that often. Not that Max would have hold him to that if Daniel didn't want to, but it would have been a matter of pride, and justice, or whatever.

Daniel has spent a lot of time in the last couple of years thinking about it. Not much about the act itself, even if he has gotten off to the memories of Max's mouth more times than he can count, but about the whole concept of it. He had started wondering if it had been Max's first (debatable, kid had been too sure of himself, but again Max always was), if Max had wanted more (probably, he had seen the looks he would get on his face sometimes), why Max had never tried to talk to him about it. Why Daniel, arguably the more mature of the two, hadn't done it. If Max still thought about it too. If he thought about it as much as Daniel did.

The last time they had done this it had been Monza, in 2021. Max had shoved in his motorhome, flushed and furious, and had sucked Daniel off with such a passionate drive it had felt like maybe he was trying to get Daniel's soul too. Or like maybe he was trying to suck Daniel's P1 out of him through his dick. It had been one of the best blowjobs of his life, had left him dazed and panting on the couch while Max had bit out a congratulations and stormed out again, his shoulders just marginally less stiff.

And now Daniel is in front of Max's door, with a P5 that feels like a P1, feeling like he's going to be taking a step right out of a plane.

He hears shuffling when he finally knocks, and it's only when he hears Max open the door that the uncertainty hits him in full force. He has not thought this through at all. Or well, he has, just not further than this. How do you ask someone "hey it's been almost three years but I would like to cash in a blowjob"??

Max looks...soft. He has a pair of sweats on, one of his white tshirts, hair freshly washed and unstyled. The blank expression and small polite smile he's sporting when he opens the door, as if he was expecting to have to send someone away, immediately morph into a blinding smile when he spots Daniel. It's always been so easy, at least for Daniel, to make Max smile like that.

"Daniel!" he says, eyes crinkling, moving to the side to let Daniel in without having to be asked.

"Hello, Max."

His room is fairly tidy, his luggage open in a corner with a few team shirts spilling out just as it had always been, but the blankets on the bed are all askew, a comfy little nest around Max's open laptop.

"Am I interrupting something?" Daniel asks, motioning towards it. He never knows when Max is working, watching something, or playing with his friends, but he hopes it's nothing important. If it's something important and Max sends him away, Daniel knows he will never find the guts to do this ever again.

"No," Max starts, then turns, smiling more, "well, yes. I was watching Lando's onboards. But they are not important now."

It hits him unexpectedly hard, the casual acknowledgement that Daniel's presence is more important than whatever Max was already planning for his evening. It's nothing new, but it's been a while since Daniel has felt it, the way Max loves him so simply. Since he has felt deserving of it.

Something must show on his face, because Max's smile turns soft as he sits down on the couch near the window, patting the space next to him for Daniel to join him.

"Why are you here?" From anyone else, it would sound rude, but Daniel has been used to Max's bluntness since day one, misses it sometimes these days, now that he's a little more careful with it, so he knows Max only means exactly what he's asking.

Daniel also knows this could be the moment to bring it up, his request, but it feels wrong to just barge in on Max's evening, get an orgasm and leave. Back then he would have done it, but they're both different people now.

"I wanted to see you, Maxy," he says, aiming for joke and hitting fond instead. It's not a lie, but the way Max goes all pink and pleased feels too dangerous for his heart, so Daniel redirects. "P2, yeah?"

It's enough to set Max off, talking about corners and turns and steering and this car. Not my car, Daniel notes. He's not surprised by the difference, but he wonders if Max means to make it so obvious, how he feels about this year's car. Or maybe Daniel is just really versed in Max-speak.

He also notices the tension around his eyes a couple of times, when Max mentions the team, and if it was another night he maybe would have asked; it never took much for Max to tell Daniel things, especially when he was unhappy about something. But today he got P5, and something about the blush growing on Max's cheeks as he gets more and more animated, making his eyes looks even more blue, firmly sets him back on jumping off the plane and send it plans.

He waits for Max to slow down a little, then nudges his calf with his foot, enjoying the way Max immediately reacts by jabbing a finger into Daniel's side, tension disappearing from his face.

"P5 is not P2, but it's still pretty good, right?"

Max's smile is his best one yet, all bright and proud as he nods, reaching for Daniel again to squeeze his shoulder.

"Of course, you have been very good today, Daniel! I am glad you are again feeling the car right."

Always so sweet and earnest. If he hadn't already teared up a little before press, face hidden in Blake's shoulder, Daniel would have probably done it now. As it is, he just smiles back, lets Max talk through his lap, quietly pleased by the knowledge that Max had obviously watched his onboard already, before Lando's. Maybe, if he dares to hope it, even before George's.

It's probably that, feeling like he's still important to Max, what gives him the confidence to throw things into motion.

"Feels like a P1, mate."

For a split second, he doesn't know what to expect. Will Max understand what he means? Maybe Max has not been thinking about their past times together, maybe saying P1 will mean nothing to him, maybe he will just go on another rant on how different P1 is of course from P5. Or maybe he will understand Daniel, and he will just slide off the couch and onto his knees, and Daniel won't have to say anything else.

Max, obviously, because he's Max, does neither thing.

His expression changes, something focused and pinched, as he tilts his head a little and stares at Daniel, lips slightly pursed.

"You want to feel like P1?" he asks. To someone else it would sound like a perfectly normal question, but Daniel knows that Max has understood, because somehow Max always gets him, even now. He also knows that he will not get out of this without talking about it at least a little. They're both different people, he has to remind himself. He's not the only one who's changed.

He nods, because he's not one to go back on his steps when he's already decided to send it, but he doesn't say anything else.

Max still looks deep in thought.

"We..." he starts, then immediately changes trajectory, "I can. If that is what you want."

As if Daniel might have walked all the way over without wanting this, without wanting Max. He nods again, watches as Max shifts a little, eyes flicking down to Daniel's lap, then to his own hands. His ears are red.

"Why now?" he blurts out, fingers twisting together. "You have of course got P5 before, but you have never come to me."

For a second, Daniel feels breathless with the knowledge that this whole time, Max would have been willing. This whole time, he could have asked and Max would have said yes, even after all these years, even after his championships, even after 2022.

"It didn't feel the same," he answers, before adding in a whisper, a belated confession, "I missed you."

He sees the way Max's shoulders jolt, his head snapping up again, eyes wide and surprised. Daniel doesn't get it, they have said it before, but he doesn't get time to dwell on it before Max is smiling again, grabbing a pillow and gracelessly following it on the floor.

Suddenly, just from seeing Max on his knees, Daniel is half hard. No wanking memory could hold a light to the real thing, to Max, broad and solid and real.

He lets Max get his hands on his legs, spreading them gently and shuffling forward, fingers sliding up to his thighs. It's hard to swallow now, the air in the room suddenly heavy with anticipation.

"I have missed you," Max rasps, kneading at Daniel's legs, not even reaching for his waistband yet. "I have missed doing this for you."

Daniel closes his eyes, lets his head fall back, but he regrets it immediately when he realizes it means not looking at Max anymore. Max, who's now looking up at him, pupils blown and lips red. For a moment, Daniel wishes things were different, wishes this thing was one where they kissed too, where he got to drag Max in his lap and get to touch him, feel all the way he's different now.

"Up," is all Max says, breaking his dangerous train of thought, and Daniel just obeys, lifting his hips and letting Max take down his pants, leaving them pooled at his ankles.

He's sure he's imagining the sigh Max lets out, the way his fingers are trembling a little when they reach just barely inside his underwear, grazing the top of his thigh.

And then Max leans forward and licks over one of Daniel's tattoos.

The sound Daniel lets out is a mix of a yelp and a moan. He can feel the little shit smiling against his skin, right before he does it again, adding a bite at the end, followed by an apology kiss, and this too is different from how they used to do it, quick and dirty, straight to the prize. Daniel is not going to complain.

Max takes his time, kissing and licking his way up his tattoos, until his nose hits the side of Daniel's clothed dick, now well on its way to fully hard.

"Hello," Max whispers, like a nerd, flashing a cheeky smile up at Daniel, who's tempted to swat at him until Max opens his mouth and wraps his lips around the head of his cock, underwear and all.

Daniel barely has time to squeak out a curse, hips bucking up in surprise, before Max steps back, smile gone. When he looks up again, he looks so intensely hungry Daniel struggles to swallow, and for his next revelation of the day, he understands that the gangly and overenthusiastic teenager who had drooled all over his dick in a club in Malaysia must have gained quite a lot of experience since then.

He refuses to analyze how that makes him feel, at least for now.

Max doesn't waste any more time, luckily, since Daniel is now hot and straining, making quick work of Daniel's boxers and of putting his mouth on him. For a second, with Max's lips around his tip, Daniel gets thrown back in time, and maybe things are not so different after all. Then Max takes a breath and sinks all the way down.

"What the...shit!" Daniel swears, scrambling for something to hold onto and finding Max's shoulders, as his brain goes completely blank, fuzzy with static and pleasure.

Yes, Max has definitely gotten more experience, because what the fuck is this. He's still enthusiastic, moaning and drooling around Daniel, tongue swirling as if his dick is some sort of delicacy, but the technique is different now. It's like he graduated in cock sucking or something, like he's trying to prove he's not only a racing champion, but a sex champion, or maybe like he's trying to kill Daniel. Or all three together.

Daniel knows he's being loud, moans and swears tumbling from his lips without hope of being restrained, but it seems to only spur Max on, as he fucking deepthroats him again with no sign of gagging. What the fuck.

"Max, Maxy, babe," Daniel tugs at Max's hair, struggling to string enough words together to let him know that, embarrassingly, he's already close, but all that does is make Max moan, the vibration of it feeling like sparks up Daniel's back.

Luckily, Max seems to still get the message though, because he lets up a little, gently suckling at Daniel's tip, pressing a kiss to it before pulling back completely to look up at Daniel.

He's like a vision, cheeks red and eyes bright, mouth spit slicked and a bit swollen, hair falling on his forehead, and Daniel's desire to kiss him comes back in full force. Again, almost as if he was reading it on Daniel's face, Max stops that particular train of though.

"Can I swallow?" Max asks, voice rough, as if it is a totally normal question and not a way to make Daniel feel like he's going to die on the spot.

"Do you want to?" Somehow, Daniel's voice is worse than Max's, all breathy and fucked up, and he can see Max being pleased about it. Menace.

"I always want to."

Max always used to, even back then, but Daniel had never questioned if it was because he thought that was how it was supposed to be or because he wanted to. Having the answer now is devastating. He groans, letting his head fall back and nodding weakly, hoping Max will just have mercy on him and finally kill him, but it doesn't seem good enough for the other, who reaches up to grab Daniel's chin, gently but firmly pulling his head back down.

"Yes?"

Daniel is acutely aware he had never explicitly asked for consent before, and neither had Max.

Things are different now.

"Yes."

It doesn't take long after that, Max throwing himself back into it like a man starved, and Daniel falling apart under him, unable to control his hands, his hips or the volume of his voice. He swears Max moans when Daniel finally comes down his throat, shaking and twitching as Max sucks him through it. He's still dazed and out of it while Max helps him back into his clothes, fondly patting his dick before tucking it in, and he can only watch as Max hauls himself to his feet again, wincing slightly, and dropping back on the couch next to Daniel.

"Good?" Max asks, because he's a nerd and a little shit.

Daniel limply hits him with his eyes still closed, feeling himself smile in response to Max's laugh.

This is different too, he distantly thinks. Usually it was Max coming to him, and he would always leave immediately after, never hanging out for Daniel's comedown. Now, when he finally opens his eyes, Max is curled up next to him, still looking flushed and happy. Still obviously hard.

Things are different now, Daniel reminds himself, checking with himself for a second as he reaches forward to tap on Max's knee.

"Want help with that?"

[boar-cry]

violent metamorphosis (or death of the old self)

extra stuff:

^ accidentally drew the piece a little too far to the left and by the time i noticed it was too late. so. meh. 🫠