#and yet i just think of .. some horrible things .. kind of.. some of it isn't That Bad..

[verosikastrikerexcuser]

completely agree with your sto-litz vs Husker-Dust analysis- and wanted to add another little thing that just...kills my possible enjoyment of the former even without the horribly abusive context- the show never bothers to show them having a good time together. Never bothered to show them as friends.

Either it's Stolas harassing Blitzo, him being visibly aggravated and....angst. Lots and lots of angst. Like even if that owl wasn't the literal worse why would I enjoy a ship that....doesn't enjoy themselves? Like Hazbin's latter half being so rushed affected all the meaningful interactions- Husk/Dust included- but I still got to see some genuine moments from them post-episode 4 where they were friends- like Angel dropping Nifty on Husk's head and going full "deal with it bro" or them doing target practice together before the war- those little glimpses of comradery and playfulness you see in people that like the other. Y'know, friends.

And when the show DOES try to show them as friends it's just....so bad. Like the whole childhood friends mess that I won't touch with a 20 meter stick and episode 2x2- ie Stolas ignoring his missing child (again) in favor of getting onto his obsession's pants LITERALLY EPISODES after their whole"break up" moment in Ozzies.... these two can't even be friends, how the hell I am supposed to believe they can be a couple? Again, it's just not fun to watch.

Ah thanks anon! Glad you liked it. I know people have issues with H*skerdust and I really do get why as their ship involves a lot of contentious topics. And Hazbin was so so sooooo insanely rushed. You are basically forced to fill in bits using your own head which you shouldn't have to. But, it still works to me.

I think if you're doing unrequited attention -> requited attention in a story then it can be really tricky to get it right. Especially when it involves very sexually charged attention and not more reserved attention. But I'd say that making Angel a forced sex worker who's being hypersexual to cope is a lot better than making someone with immense class power and who is sexually repressed then go crazy and become obsessive about one specific lower class person he met as a kid and had his dad buy him to entertain him likeee ????

Husk sees through what Angel's doing with his act and he sees some of himself and how he is trapped too. So he pushes him to be better and once they reconcile with Loser Baby he continues to encourage Angel to be better and only THEN does he start to reciprocate affection or admiration or any positive kind of feelings, only when Angel changes and shows that he can be something other than a pot of lewd jokes towards Husk. They they reach that moment of understanding. They become happier together. They don't just make each other actively worse. They had angst but they overcame it. I could see them also having further angst potentially yet overcoming it again in a believable way.

While St*litz? Yeah it really is just misery misery and more misery and there's nothing wrong with making a ship that involves misery. The problem is lying to us that a miserable ship isn't miserable. We as the audience see so much damn misery and little else like you said, yet we're supposed to love their ship and believe deep down they're madly in love in a way that can totally be healthy and they're a great end game? They always seem one disaster away from a huge emotional blowout if they're not having sex, and everything constantly being sexual is only adding fuel to the fire of their issues. They have nothing in common. Huskerdust both have addiction issues, soul contracts, seem to like similar things I'm sure Angel would gladly play poker with Husk or they would go bar hopping together etc. While you have a booksy library nerd and then you have a guy who's just not into any of that. And that could still work but they need to establish other things they DO have in common. Right now we've only really seen the differences.

What would St*litz do if hanging out together? I feel like everything St*las would suggest would just have Blitz disinterested and disrespecting it lol. St*las has been obsessed with Blitz since birth like some kind of weird fixation. Love at first sight... as a child? Wtf? That look St*las gives Blitz all blushy as a child is while he knew NOTHING about the actual Blitz and who he is. That's the kind of crush as a child you grow the hell out of to still be thinking about 1 day as a child years later to that extent is insane and not healthy.

While Blitz meanwhile never thought of him again. Then only had sex with him when they met again as adults out of pity after seducing and tying him up to distract him so he could escape his house. And may I also add that St*las put that idea into his head to flirt with the weird "You're here to ravish me" and "nefarious intentions" comments.

St*las makes this face as he says hes going to take Blitz to his room and handle him. And then says all those comments to Blitz while the two of them are now alone in St*las' bedroom. St*las. Why did you decide to take Blitz to your bedroom. Why did you make that face. Why did you say those comments to someone you had only met as a child for one day and then they broke into your house. Its apparently all not serious, those weird sexually charged comments you began making towards someone you met once as a child and barely knew??? Then. Then why say them at all. Whats the joke? Why would you tell who's basically a stranger alone with you in your bedroom with you a joke like that? That's such a bizzare fucking thing to do.

So then Blitz starts to get physical and flirts back and St*las says he was just kidding with the flirting/jokes (the writing for St*las is so inconsistent and dogshit I s2g) and he tries to back out. In a panic over the book and escaping Blitz keeps going and ignores St*las wanting to back out (fucking GROSS that they wrote Blitz as doing this). Then St*las gives into it? Its just so fucking awkward and gross feeling that entire scene. And its the foundation for their entire adult relationship going forwards. EW. Husk and Angel's foundation is Husk getting him to snap out of being hypersexual and boundary crossing for both their sake's. Blitz and St*las, they never seem to make each other better they just seem to be miserable and constantly lie to each other. They barely seem to know or care what the other wants and needs.

Blitz being around St*las just encourages St*las' insane hypersexual behaviors which bring out the worst in him because yeah those are harassing behaviors and have a weird racial/species fetishizing undertone. For Angel they were a way of pretending he really did like being a sexual object and that's why when Husk called it enough and said he should recognize that his situation is bad instead of trying to pretend he likes it he stopped; Husk wasn't the thing actually motivating the issues. While Blitz absolutely is with St*las, St*las is unhealthily obsessed with him. And that motivates him to abuse his power and to ignore his daughter's needs. St*las shouldn't be around Blitz because it clearly causes him to act in ways which hurt others and himself because he clearly doesn't know how to act right towards Blitz in any capacity. His attraction is not normal or healthy.

[emometalhead]

.

[alligaytorswamp]

which brain disease makes me come up with entirely fictional scenarios in my head, that are just miserable and make me cry irl ??

[yenqa]

firsts

synopsis — sakusa and you have never had a conversation, and honestly you’re terrified of the man. but one conversation turns out to be many more of your firsts with sakusa.

warnings — reader is scared of men LMFAO, not really any

pairing — sakusa x implied fem!reader

wordcount — 710

a/n — happy birthday to himm! also my first hq post in a while OOPS also not proofread sorry!

You’ve never really talked to Sakusa.

You had been the manager of the volleyball team since your first year–and you had known him since then, but for some reason, you haven’t talked to him unless it’s volleyball related.

In fact–you don’t think you’ve ever had a conversation with him. But there's a first for everything, right?

Itachiyama has made it to nationals (not like it’s a surprise), and everyone has just arrived. The room continues to fill with people you don’t know, so you decide it’s best to stick with your team so you don’t get lost.

Well apparently that was a horrible idea to everyone else. Because you’ve lost everyone but Sakusa. 

And you’re terrified. Surrounded in a room full of men you don’t know sounded like your worst nightmare, and you were living it currently.

Frantically scanning the room for anyone that’s not Sakusa, you somehow can’t spot any of the familiar bright yellow and green jackets your team is wearing.

Everyone knows that Sakusa doesn’t like to be bothered. But when you make eye contact with him, you change your expression to a way where he understands you’re pleading for help.

And he nods once.

Your mouth breaks out into a smile, and you shimmy your way to the crowd. Letting out a sigh of relief–you lean on the wall for support, muttering a small thank you to Sakusa. 

You don’t expect him to say anything back, but you can hear his muffled voice say, “You okay?”

Tilting your head slightly up to make eye contact with him, you smile as you say, “Yeah–I’m fine. Are you nervous?”

You’re not sure why you ask the question, he probably doesn’t want to be bothered. I mean–you were still kind of shocked that he let you even be near him.

“Not really. Are you?”

You’re even more shocked when he continues the conversation. You’d expect he’d be the most rude person if he didn’t want to talk. “I-uhm I am a little bit. But we’re exempt from playing today right?”

Yeah–this definitely is the first and last conversation you’ll ever have with him.

He nods.

Then it’s silent.

Surprisingly, the silence isn't the most awkward thing you’ve experienced. It feels as if you’re just two people co-existing.

You watch as everyone excitedly hugs each other or glares at their next opponent. One person even tries to rile up the other, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

From the corner of your eye you can tell he’s curious, but he hasn’t said anything yet. This time, you take initiative to point at the players, also describing the jacket colors.

And you swear you can hear him laugh.

Not a full–hearty laugh obviously, but a small chuckle. A quiet one that you don’t even notice. But it’s definitely the first time you’ve heard him do anything resembling a laugh.

“You laughed.” You blurt out, before you even realize. 

He furrows his brows, “I did.”

Your eyes widen, “Sorry–oh my gosh, it’s just the first time I’ve heard your laugh before, Sakusa-san. I swear I didn’t mean it like that–you just have a nice laugh–”

And now he’s actually laughing–like not even hard to hear.

He’s laughing, he’s hunched over, shaking and clutching his stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more mortified in your life.

“It wasn’t that funny was it?” You ask, a frown on your face.

Sakusa catches his breath, “Funnier than any of the jokes Komori tries to make.”

“There wasn’t even a joke! And I happen to like the jokes he makes!”

“Only if you’re sick in the head.”

You scoff at his remark, “Wow, Sakusa-san, you’re very hard to please.”

“Kiyoomi.”

“Another complaint?” You tease, trying to play dumb at what he’s trying to imply. 

“Call me Kiyoomi.”

You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, you tuck your hair back behind your ear and mutter, “Okay, Kiyoomi.”

And even though he’s wearing a white mask, you swear you can see his eyes crinkle and you can assume the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. 

You’ve had many firsts with Sakusa today. This is the first time you’ve seen him smile–just maybe next time he’ll do it while his face is fully shown.

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

What Happens in Cars, Stays in Cars

dbf!jake seresin x fem!reader 9k words

summary: After a month-long deployment, Jake is finally coming back home. Well, not home home. You're too desperate to wait until you've actually got him home. But who needs home when there's a perfectly good car anyway?

a/n: porn with plot. a lot of plot. and a lot of porn. 18+ obviously. reader is twenty-five in this, jake is forty-seven. as always, a list of things to watch out for:

nudes. mentions of masturbation. pet names used in an unholy way. the word 'brat' is dropped twice. safe sex (yess they still have a condom!!! i feel like i deserve a round of applause for not forgetting it). car sex, so a tiny smidge of exhibitionism. dom!jake. a lot of begging, as always. a tad bit dry humping. first finger sucking, then fingering. any more, uh....? i don't think so. there's not much space in a car for anything else.

top gun masterlist | dbf!jake seresin masterlist

(the gif has nothing at all to do with the fic, but tell me that's not dbf!jake working out in his backyard knowing you're watching him istg)

It's a one time thing. That's what they told him. A one time thing.

He isn't supposed to do these anymore. He's supposed to be stationed permanently, sitting in his office and doing what an admiral does. Important work, surely. It's a high honour and he's proud, of course. But office work... Office work has never really been his thing. And if they'd deployed him for this mission four months earlier, he would've been thrilled.

He's the best of the best. The navy knows. He knows. Which is why he's an admiral by now. And also why they want him coaching the new hotshots for a month, halfway across the country.

And, yes, he would've been thrilled - four months ago.

Four months ago, when you'd not yet moved back home. Four months ago, when he hadn't yet met you. Four months ago, when he hadn't known what it was like to hold you, to touch you, to miss you.

His phone chimes and momentarily distracts him. It's not that he didn't mute it - he's standing in front of a bunch of twenty-something year olds who he does try to be a role model for - it's just that you'd tampered with it once and ever since then, you've had a personalised ringtone that still somehow works even when everything else is muted. (He could totally turn that off if he wanted to, though. Definitely. Ab-so-lu-tely. He just... doesn't.)

His jaw clenches and he has to restart his sentence, but other than that, he manages to pretend nothing happened. Nonetheless, he has to glare at the snickering wannabe-pilots in the first row, who remind him very much of a young version of himself.

You're three hours ahead of him and probably just got off work. It's likely nothing but a sweet "having a good day?" message or maybe a photo of you all dressed up, ready for dinner with your friends like you'd planned.

Either way, knowing your message is sitting unopened in your chat has him talking quicker. He finishes his lecture half an hour early and fishes his phone from his pocket before the first of his pupils have even got up from their seats - which turns out to be a horrible, horrible idea, because the photo attached to "don't know how long i'll stay out, have a nice night, admiral" with the winky face emoji is not one of you all dressed up for a night out with your friends, but one of you in just a pair of panties in front of the mirror. The mirror in his bedroom.

Fucking god-

He seems to let out some kind of choked up groan or something of the sort, because a few of his pilots turn to look back at him. One even has the audacity to ask if he's alright, which he certainly isn't. But that's absolutely not their problem.

So he grumbles something about how they should all use their free time to go to the gym instead of bothering him before he collects his things and flees to his room. One of the many advantages of being an admiral, of course, is that he doesn't have to bunk anymore, which is always the greatest nuisance for anybody who's ever looking for privacy. The times he's had to listen to guys jack off a foot away from him- fuck, the times they'd had to listen to him.

No, right now he is incredibly thankful for the privacy of his bedroom as he locks the door behind him and opens his phone again. Goddamn, why were you in his house? His fingers hover over the call button for a few seconds, but then he decides against it - you're going out with friends for the first time in months, he doesn't want to bother you.

He's popping the button of his jeans and sitting down on his bed right as you come online.

"Like the pictures, baby? I've got more"

And before he can even respond, you've sent a bunch more selfies, half of them in front of his mirror, the other half on his bed and none of them decently clothed. Fucking hell, in one you've got your fingers down your panties and Jake is really thankful for the privacy of his room then because he groans so loudly that a bunkmate would definitely have heard.

"Are you still at dinner?", he asks, his fingers flying over his keyboard while he tugs at his zipper with his left hand.

"Yeah, won't be home soon", you write back. "Sorry"

"Don't be", Jake responds, as quickly as he can, because he definitely does not want to make you feel bad for spending time with your friends. "Have fun"

"Have fun with the pics", you send. Jake can picture your grin, sitting all dressed up in a restaurant and ignoring your friends to text him. "Thought those could maybe make up for no phone call tonight"

He swallows hard as you log off, leaving him with those pretty pictures of yours that certainly improve his night by a lot. Hell, he's already moving his briefs out of the way and clicking on your photos again. Just seeing you half-naked in his room - fuck, the thought of you sneaking over there only to do a goddamn photoshoot... You're really unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. And he can't wait to get back home to you.

...

"I miss you", you mumble into the phone, blinking at the alarm clock on your nightstand. It's eleven thirty, not nearly late enough for you to feel as exhausted as you do.

"I miss you too, darling", you hear Jake drawl on the other end of the call. "I'll be back soon."

"Not soon enough", you whine - god, you sound pathetic and miserable to your own ears already, you must sound ten times worse to him. You fall back onto your pillows and let out a deep sigh. "Would it be rude to say I hope the mission gets cancelled?"

Jake chuckles. Fucking hell, you miss that chuckle so much. You miss him so much. You miss cuddling up to him under the covers and tucking your head under his chin. You miss running your fingers through his hair and having your hands on him. You miss seeing him, standing in the kitchen or working out or tinkering in the backyard or fresh out of the shower. Shit, you even miss sneaking around with him, because at least then you'd gotten to watch him from a distance, maybe steal a kiss when your parents hadn't been looking or spend an night at his house pretending to be at your friend's.

Now he's halfway across the country and absolutely, completely out of reach. You'd barely gotten to see him at all - twice it had worked out to video-call during a lunch break, once he'd even managed to virtually show you around his office after work. The camera quality is hardly any good, of course, which means video-calls aren't all that great, plus the connection never seems to really be stable, so with a few exceptions, you've only seen Jake in pictures over the past two and a half weeks.

His deployment would take another one and a half and then, finally, he'd be back home. Back home with you.

"I won't answer that", Jake says, and you can almost hear him grin. "But I wouldn't mind either if they moved the mission up."

You have to bite down on your lip to hide a smile.

"So you think you're good to go?", you ask softly, not wanting to bring the mood down further, instead opting for the non-classified work questions. You've already been bringing down the mood enough back here at home - you don't need to fill the few minutes a day you get with Jake with your whining as well. Your parents already hear enough of that. Of course, they don't know why you've been in such a bad mood ever since Jake left. And they can't know, either. You can't tell them. You can't tell anyone.

You can't tell anyone because no one knows that you've been sneaking around with your dad's best friend for the past three months. So you resign yourself to moping around and keeping out of everybody's way as much as you can. For one and a half weeks more, one and a half...

...

Exactly one and a half week later you're standing at the airport in your best heels and a little yellow sundress and are positively buzzing with nervous energy. Jake's plane would get in at half, he'd said, when you'd last spoken to him six hours earlier. Then the plane had taken off and so had his wifi.

You're playing around with a strand of your hair and doing your hardest not to start chewing off your nails, which proves more difficult than you'd thought (even though you'd put on nail polish).

You're just so excited.

It's been a month since you'd last seen him. A month. And at the early stage of your... relationship, if you could call it that, that's basically half a year. God, how long it's been since you've run your hands through his hair, since you've felt his arms around you.

You miss him so much.

Your phone chimes and you fish it out of your pocket with trembling hands, only to be disappointed when it's not a message from Jake. It's not like you'd told him to text when he'd landed, just... A part of you is kind of scared you're waiting in the wrong place. Maybe he's on the other end of the airport - it's not a particularly small one. It'd take you hours to find each other if you were waiting in the wrong place.

Then again - maybe the plane is late. Maybe he's had to wait for his luggage.

You check the time, just to be safe. It's 11:46. For all you know, Jake is still in the air. Or less than a door away.

You bounce on your feet, nervously shifting back and forth before checking your phone again. The text you'd gotten is from one of your friends, who you text back only to distract you. It barely works anyway. You can't put it away again quickly enough.

It's not even that you don't want to distract yourself. You just physically can't pay attention. You've been a nervous wreck for the past three days, ever since you'd made the plan to pick him up from the airport. Which is probably why you almost don't spot him.

Almost.

He walks through the opened doors with his suitcase rolling behind him, his backpack slung over his shoulder and at least five other people rushing past him.

He sees you before you see him.

But then, then when you see him-

You're already sprinting towards him before your mind even tells your legs to move. You can't control it and you can't be bothered to. Why would you?

You don't care about the people glancing at you with raised eyebrows. You only care about Jake, about Jake who's standing there, pulling his hand from the handle of his suitcase and grinning at you. Grinning at you as you run at him and throw yourself into his arms.

He catches you effortlessly and steadies you as you cross your hands behind his neck and press your lips to his.

God, how you've missed him! How long you haven't kissed him!

His palms flatten against your back and he holds you tight, so tightly to him. You push even closer. He's here. He's back.

You don't realise you're crying until you taste the tears.

That's when Jake pulls back.

"I've missed you", he mutters, raising a hand and brushing the tears off your cheeks. You lean into the touch and tighten your arms around his neck. You're really touching him. He's really here.

"I missed you too", you try to say, but you're choked up and crying and it somehow comes out a blubbering, stuttering mess that you're not quite sure Jake can even understand. "Missed you so much."

He smiles one of those gorgeous smiles that you haven't seen in far too long before he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. His breath mingles with yours as he draws you in again and catches you in another kiss, tugging gently at your bottom lip as if he has all the time in the world to do it - slow and languid and real. Finally real again.

He pulls you in by your waist, his hands splayed wide and so, so big against your thin sundress. Your nails scratch against his neck and he lets out a groan and suddenly, he's got his hands on your thighs and you're wrapping your legs around his middle and tightening your arms around him and his lips are working against yours feverishly, heavily, messily. You're crossing your feet behind his back when one of them hits something hard. You've flinched away from him even before you can hear the dull crash of his suitcase kissing the airport floor.

There's blood rushing in your ears and you're sure if someone measured your heart rate right now, you'd be sent to the ER immediately. You probably look like a tomato with all the redness in your cheeks. But Jake stares at his suitcase silently for two seconds too, breathing heavily as his grip on you tightens further.

As much as he likes having you in his arms, his suitcase reminds him that you're still very much in the middle of a well-used airport. So he turns back to you and lowers his voice.

"I think we should get out of here, darling."

Your lips tug up into a grin and you lean in to give him just one last, quick kiss.

"Yeah", you breathe, carefully jumping back down onto your own feet. Jake lets go of you only reluctantly - if this wasn't a public airport, he'd never have let you go again. But it is, so he swallows hard as you brush your palms down your dress and blink up at him with a smile.

You're wearing heels. You're still shorter than him by quite a bit.

His amusement melts into a frown when you grab the handle of his suitcase.

"I've got that", he says, reaching his hand out to take the suitcase from you, but you're already maneuvering it away from him and starting to walk in the direction (you think it's the right direction) you'd parked your car in.

"I want to do it for you", you hum.

"Sweetheart, you're already doing enough for me", he says, and he really does mean it. You've driven all this way to come pick him up, you'd watered his plants while he'd been away, you'd even cleaned. That one mostly because you'd desperately needed something to do and Jake's house had always smelled like him, but still.

"Doing enough to you, you mean." Your grin borders on lewd as you dig your teeth into your lip.

"Yeah, that too", he sighs, but he has to grin as well. You're absolutely unbelievable. Instead of trying to argue (he knows it'd be fruitless anyway), he wraps an arm around your back and pulls you into his side, his hand resting on your waist again.

You glance at him.

"I'm not letting go of this suitcase", you warn, even as you lean into his side and swallow. God, he looks so good. And he smells so good. And he feels so good.

"Got it", he chuckles, brushing a kiss to your temple and pulling you even closer into him. He can't have you close enough. Does this fucking airport not have an end? He just needs a little more privacy, a little more space-

"This way", you say and point right. Jake smiles at you as you guide him down the halls. He can't help but watch, can't help but stare at you, at your dress in that soft shade of yellow and your matching heels. Autumn doesn't seem to have caught up with you yet. Then again - autumn hasn't caught up with this place yet. And he's used to Texas heat, he likes that it doesn't get cold here. Also, those sundresses... Yeah, he certainly isn't complaining about the weather.

You speed up when you finally catch sight of the doors, dragging him along with you, almost falling into a jog. The suitcase rumbles against the airport floor, the wheels click-clacking over uneven ridges and bumps and then, thank god, you feel the sunshine on your skin. His hand tightens around your waist.

"Home sweet home", you grin as you take the first step onto concrete. You swivel around and steady both palms against the handle of his suitcase behind your back, bouncing on your heels and looking up at him. "After about a three hour drive."

Jake chuckles and looks back at you with raised eyebrows.

"You'll drive?", he asks. You hum.

"Maybe", you grin as you turn away again and walk over to your car, parked only three rows away for whatever holy reason. You'd been incredibly lucky. And you'd almost run over a grandma. "Or maybe not."

Jake follows you with another low chuckle that sends a pleasant tingling sensation down your spine. It's been so long since you heard that chuckle behind you.

He's next to you again within a few long strides, reaching out for you and you slow your steps to intertwine your fingers with his.

His hands are so big. He's holding onto you so firmly. Fuck, you've missed him so much.

You squeeze his hand and walk a little quicker. Car, home. Car, home. That's it. Then you've got him all to yourself. You can see the car glinting in the sunlight already - and then it's three hours. Three hours next to him in an enclosed space before you've truly got him back.

You stop and let go of his suitcase to fish the car keys out of your pocket without dropping his hand. You push the unlock button and open up the trunk before you turn to Jake and grin at him.

You want to say something, really. It's on the tip of your tongue, still running through your mind, but you've completely forgotten it when you look up at him.

Because while you'd been dragging him to the car, he'd pulled his sunglasses out and put them on and for whatever reason... That kind of does it for you. Holy shit.

"Are those new?", you ask hoarsely and swallow hard, the car keys digging into your palm as you tighten your fist around them. Maybe it's just that you haven't seen him in a month. Or maybe it's the way the sunlight catches his hair, slightly longer than when he'd left. Maybe it's just that with the sun behind him, you've got no choice but to squint at his broad shoulders.

"The other pair broke", Jake explains, letting go of your hand only to wrap his arms around your waist. Fuck, you're just standing there, doing absolutely nothing and he already can't keep from touching you. He has to touch you. He's got to put his arms around you and pull you close. "Why? Don't like it?"

You steady your palms against his chest and let out a breath as your eyes drop to his lips - he's got that cheeky look on his face that's not really a grin but not really not a grin and that nobody but him can do.

"I do", you counter, because it's the truth, and there's no way you can lie to him. "I very much do."

"Very much?" Jake does grin then, raises his eyebrows and pulls you fully against him. "That's more than just a yes."

Your fingers fist his shirt, the car keys digging into his chest just as firmly as they're digging into your palm now. He doesn't seem to be too bothered. He really isn't too bothered.

"They look good on you", you mutter, pulling him even closer. It's been too long since you'd pulled him close... And he feels so good, smells so good, looks so good. Fuck, he's so big and broad and-

"Thanks", he mutters, his grin all cheeky and self-assured and god, is it really this hot? Do you just feel this hot? Because you feel really, really hot. Your skin is burning. How the hell are you supposed to manage a three hour car ride?

"Jake", you whimper, without even meaning to. It's barely above a breath, barely above a whisper, and still too much of a whine to sound anything close to appropriate. A sort of grunt leaves his lips before his arms tighten around you, before he slots his mouth over yours hard. His thumbs drag circles against the small of your back, catching on the fabric of your dress. Your fingertips dig into his shirt, into his chest.

The sun beams down on you, warming your thighs and your arms and every exposed inch of skin, brightness behind closed eyelids as you push further and further into him. He's so sturdy, all hard abs right in front of you, broad arms around you.

You don't even notice the breathless moan that escapes your tongue. You can only feel the heat boiling inside of you, the desperate heat inside of you crawling up your body, every inch of you burning. Burning with want for him. With need for him. Fuck, he's been gone for way too long.

And then he pulls back.

You need a few seconds to even blink yourself back to reality.

"Home?", he suggests, even though it's less of a suggestion and more just a fact. He's getting you home. Now.

"Please", you whine, already halfway through pulling back and dropping the car keys into his palm. Three hours. Three fucking hours, you... You simply won't manage to sit down behind the steering wheel with your skin crawling and your underwear soaked through.

You'll barely manage sitting in the passenger seat.

Jake presses another kiss against your temple before he grabs his suitcase and leaves you standing there, trying to pull yourself together. He's breathing hard and his muscles are tight, his jaw clenched as he heaves his suitcase into the trunk and drops his backpack into it right after.

You force your legs to work, to carry you to the passenger side, force your arm to raise and your hand to close around the handle. It's heavy and hard work. Your body feels leaden, entranced. You let yourself collapse onto the seat and close your eyes.

Fuck.

You'd forgotten how much... how easily...

"Seatbelt, darling", Jake reminds you as he climbs into the driver's seat and adjusts it. You swallow hard and strap yourself in, trying to even out your breathing and pull yourself back to reality while you fumble for the confirmative click.

"Three hours", you remind yourself breathily.

"Three hours", Jake agrees lowly and turns the key in the ignition.

You settle back in your seat and close your eyes, clenching and unclenching your jaw as the radio starts playing and the car rolls out of the parking lot. You just have to relax. Just relax. Relax.

So you breathe out deeply and open your eyes again. Jake glances over at you as you lean forward, flick through the radio channels and then adjust in your seat - it's touching too much, too little of your skin, and the way you're rubbing against it somehow doesn't help in the slightest.

Before you can tuck one of your legs under the other and press the heel of your foot against your core, Jake puts his hand against your thigh. Against your bare thigh. His big fucking hand against your bare thigh.

You bite down on your lip and look up at him.

God, he looks so good. His features are chiseled, his hair that sunny, beachy kind of blond-

"Stop that", Jake grunts, his eyes trained on the road in front of him. It takes you two seconds to even realise he's talking to you. You'd kind of lost yourself in staring at him there.

"Stop what?", you ask, voice hitching as his fingers tighten on your thigh. Damn it, he needs to stop that. He's hardly been driving five minutes, he can't already be teasing you.

For once, actually, he doesn't even mean to tease you - not that you know. He just can't help but touch you, not when he hasn't touched you in a month, not when you're sitting so deliciously, tauntingly next to him.

"Stop looking at me like that", he says, taking his hand off of you to change gears before grabbing even tighter onto you again. "Or I'll have to pull over."

You brush your fingers along his wrist. Your chest feels tight, so tight. It takes everything in you not to push his hand further up your thigh. And you'd actually thought you'd manage a three hour car ride.

"I'll stop", you breathe, even though pulling over doesn't seem like the worst idea. "If you want me to."

A muscle twitches in his jaw.

"Don't do that", he warns, his voice staggering into that indecent gruff of his that has you clenching your thighs together, trapping his fingertips between your legs.

"Don't do what?", you ask, trying your best to sound somewhat innocent while you continue this little taunting game, not as though you're deliberately riling him up. You aren't, really. It's more just a reflex.

He turns his head to you then. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw is clenched and honestly, the way he's meeting your gaze all serious, as though he's trying to reprimand you just by looking at you - for no more than three seconds, of course, before he drags his eyes back to the road - has your lips tugging up in a teasing grin.

"Jake", you whisper, drawing your nails slowly up his arm, all the way from his wrist to his elbow. "Baby. You've been away for so long. You know how lonely I've been, right?"

Jake glances at you again and grunts his agreement, eyebrows raising as he starts to realise what you're doing.

"You can't blame me for looking at you", you go on, digging your fingertips into a spot right above his elbow and drawing one, two circles there. "Or for touching you."

Then you shift in your seat, spread your legs a little and run your fingers down his arm again. You grab his hand and brush his fingertips against the soaked spot on your panties.

"Or for being this wet", you whisper, your breath hitching from the sting in your stomach. He lets out a low curse. "I've just missed you so much."

He sucks in a breath then and trails his fingertips up your panties once, just once, before he jerks his hand back and clenches it hard around the steering wheel, so hard that his knuckles turn wide. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! You're driving him crazy. You're driving him fucking crazy.

He's supposed to be responsible here. Somewhat responsible. You're young, you've got that risky twinkle in your eyes that he knows so well because he'd seen it in the mirror himself for over twenty years. He knows the thrilling buzz that's running through your veins. He still feels it whenever he's in the air. And he feels it around you.

Which is why he's not responsible, not when it comes to you. Not when you're sitting next to him in that pretty dress, with no shorts on and completely fucking soaked through.

You grin to yourself as he pulls off the highway and bite down on your lip, shifting in your seat once more, fighting the urge to trail your own fingers into your panties.

You haven't even asked how his deployment had been.

But goddamn, you'll have enough time to do that once you've got home. Or got off. Or got him off. At this point, you don't fucking care.

He pulls into one of those parking lots that mainly trucks use, one of those where there's hardly ever a toilet and if, then one that hasn't been usable since the last century. Right now, there's two trucks right at the front that Jake just brushes past. He parks your car at the far end and turns the motor off.

The silence is heavy.

Your breath comes much too quickly. Your eyes are fixed on him. And every inch of your skin is crawling with heat. But you don't move. You can't move.

He rolls his seat all the way back.

"Jake-", you whisper, catching on his name when he looks up and meets your eyes. There's a ghost of a grin on his lips, but... Maybe you're wrong.

"Yes, darling?", he asks, raising his eyebrows and leaning back in his seat. You have to strain your neck to keep looking at him. Instead of an answer, you just softly shake your head. You're suddenly unsure of what to say. His eyes weigh you down. You're painfully aware of every inch of your skin under his watchful gaze.

"Come on", he drawls, the grin that's growing on his lips more obvious now. "You were all eager to talk just then, baby."

Your teeth catch on your lip as you let out a breathless sigh. Your fingers hover over the buckle of your seat belt. Can you? Or...

"I missed you", you whisper, letting your fingertips glide over the hard plastic. "Can I-"

You swallow.

"Can you what, darling?", he repeats, grinning widely now.

You chew on your lip as you push down and unbuckle yourself slowly, your eyes still trained on Jake, who simply watches you with raised eyebrows.

"Can I touch you?", you whisper, your breath disappearing into the thick air of the car, the seatbelt still caught between your fingers. The corners of his mouth only tug up further.

You look angelic with your wide eyes and rosy cheeks, so obviously desperate to feel him - but still you don't move. You sit there and wait for him to tell you what to do. To allow you to do something. Anything. It's almost endearing how well behaved you are in moments like this.

"Go on, darling", he drawls. "Come here."

Without hesitation, you reach over the centre console and grab onto his shoulders, steadying yourself against him as you throw one of your legs over his and climb into his lap. His hands find your waist, grab onto your sides, hold you softly against him. Your teeth dig into your lip as you sink down, your fingers trailing along the outline of his collarbones over his shirt, your dress riding up and pooling around your hips. You suck in a breath when your panties drag against his jeans.

Fuck. It's been so long. It's been way too long.

"Jake", you mutter as you lean in, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, brushing your nose against his cheek. "You look good."

He lets out a breathy chuckle, his grip on you tightening.

"I know, darling", he can't help but say with a grin. "Thanks."

You giggle onto his skin as you trail your lips down his jaw. Sometimes he's incredibly unbelievable. I know. How cocky. Not that he shouldn't be - goddamn, he should be! You can't even fault him. And confidence is sexy. Especially on him. Though, then again, anything on him is sexy.

"I've missed you", you mutter, pressing another open-mouthed kiss against his skin, this time against the spot between his neck and his ear. "Missed looking at you. Missed touching you."

"Yeah", Jake breathes, digging his hands into your hips and pulling you harder onto him. "I've missed you too."

He's missed you so fucking much that he's hurting, straining against his jeans so hard that he feels like he might combust. And you're kissing down his throat, pressing your lips against his skin, wanting, needing to touch him, to feel him-

A month away from each other. A month too long.

"I need you, Jake", you whimper into his ear, all breathy and desperate, rocking softly back and forth in his lap and letting your eyes fall shut.

"You need me, baby?", he echoes, grabbing you as tightly as he can and dragging you against him, his head thumping back against the seat.

A filthy moan slips past your lips as your hips roll against his, finally, for the first time in weeks. God, yes, you need him so badly. You need him now. Here and now, in the driver's seat of your car.

"Please, Jake", you breathe, steadying one palm against his chest and grabbing one of his hands with the other. You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug it off of you, but before you can drag it down to your panties again, drop it between your legs and beg him to fuck you, before you can do any of that, he's turning your grip around and taking your hands in his instead.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, baby", he chuckles, settling your hands against your thighs. He's painfully hard by now, yes- But that doesn't mean you can just drag him to where you want him. "Seems like you forgot your manners."

You're already shaking your head before he can finish. No, you haven't, you haven't, you just need him so badly... and you can feel him, you can feel that he needs you too, so why doesn't he just take you? Why doesn't he-

"I haven't, Jake, I promise", you whisper, looking at him and forcing yourself to still on his lap. It won't help you if you move. It definitely won't help you if you move.

"You haven't?", he asks with raised eyebrows, looking all but amused at you. You keep shaking your head no, no, no. "So if I'd told you to stay in your seat and wait, you would've?"

You bite down on the inside of your cheek and look away. He's grinning. He knows. He's not even really asking. But if you've learnt anything, anything at all about him, it's that he doesn't like to be ignored. If he asks a question, he wants it answered. So you'll answer.

"No", you breathe truthfully, because you most definitely wouldn't have managed a three hour car ride next to him. There's no way you would've managed a three hour car ride next to him. No fucking way.

His grin widens.

"No", he repeats lowly. "No, darling? You wouldn't have listened?"

"Couldn't", you correct, fighting the desire to rock against his thighs that's growing with every passing second. He looks so fucking good. He smells so fucking good. He feels so fucking good. And he'd fuck you so good, you know that, if he'd just finally get to it.

"Couldn't", he echoes, his fingertips rubbing circles onto the bare skin of your thighs. "That desperate."

It's just that he's that desperate, too. Desperate to feel you wrapped around him, desperate to hear you whimper and moan. He needs you as much as you need him.

"You want me to fuck you, baby?", he asks, all smooth and casual and your fingers dig into your thighs to feel something, anything. It's unbelievable how easily something so dirty slips off his lips.

"Yes", you gasp. "Want you so bad, Jake. Please. I'll be so good for you. I'll be perfect."

A muscle ticks in his jaw.

"You are perfect", he breathes, even though that hadn't been his plan at all. But he has to say it. He has to tell you. You've got him wrapped around your little finger, even if you don't know. And he's not all that sure you don't know anyway.

Your teeth catch on your lip, your hands dig harder into your skin and-

And Jake's thumbs trail along the inside of your bare thighs, brushing up naked skin, drawing a shallow breath from your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as you clench your legs around his and force yourself to keep still. He's touching you. You have to remind yourself of that. He is touching you. There's no reason at all for the urge to defy him, to pop open his jeans and just sink down on him. He's touching you, he's touching you...

Yeah. Barely.

"Let me feel you", you beg, drawing your hands away from your thighs and trying to put them against his chest - but before you can, he's pulled his hands away from your thighs as well and grabbed your wrists. Again.

"You're not in charge here, darling", he chuckles, pushing your hands back down. He grabs for your waist again. "If you can't behave, I'm gonna put you back in the passenger seat and keep on driving, got that?"

You nod.

You want to be good for him. You will be good for him. God, there's no fucking way you could have managed the car ride already, and if you had to sit through it now, after this- No. You'll be good for him. You'll be so good for him.

He flashes you a grin and goes back to dragging his thumbs along your thighs.

"Ask nicely", he says. "Maybe I'll-"

"Please", you blurt out, your hips involuntarily bucking into his touch. "Can I kiss you?"

His eyes drop down to your mouth then.

"Yeah, baby", he mutters, his thumbs catching on the hem of your dress. "You can kiss me."

He expects you to jump at him, to slot your lips over his and lick into his mouth eagerly - but you only steady your palms carefully against his chest and lean in, your eyes focused on his, your breath meeting his skin. You kiss him softly, lightly, with your lips just so grazing his and your eyes fluttering shut. His fingertips run down the soaked spot on your panties.

That's when your teeth catch on his lip. You sink them into his skin gently and tug, your heart missing a beat as he groans into you. He hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them to the side just like you'd hoped, just like you'd begged for.

Jake's right - you're not in charge. But that doesn't mean you don't know what buttons to push to get what you want.

His fingertips trail through your wetness for the first time in a whole fucking month. It's long overdue. So long.

You moan into him, pressing your chest right up against his and fisting his shirt, and push closer. You need to be this close. You need to be even closer. You need him to fuck you, now, not only to drag his fingers up to your clit.

But he's too focused on you, getting too drunk on the feeling of you. He's finally got you here again, finally on his lap again, finally kissing him again, finally eager for him again. He's finally touching you again. And he has to touch you.

You're so fucking wet. You're soaked. He wants to take his time to notice that. He needs to take his time to notice that. He needs to touch you, to feel you. He doesn't even mean to tease you. He doesn't even realise he is teasing you. Not until you rock into his hand and let a whine slip into his mouth.

You really don't intend to. It's an accident. You don't want to rush him. What you want is to be good for him. But you can't help yourself.

And he knows you can't.

Which is the only reason he doesn't pull back and leave you high and dry. Well, that - and his desperation to have you.

So instead, he pushes two fingers into you and catches the languid moan you let out. Fuck. You sound so sweet. You feel so perfect. It's been so fucking long.

"Jake", you whimper, just because it's also been that fucking long since you've whined his name into his mouth. Into the low-quality mic of your phone, yes. But with his lips on yours? With his fingers thrusting inside you so precisely, hitting the right spot immediately? No, that's been too fucking long.

It's dirty. Not quick, like the other times neither of you had been patient enough to look for a better spot to have each other and had opted for the car instead. No, it's just dirty, with his fingers pumping in and out of you, his tongue running along yours and your knees rubbing against the seat.

Maybe it's because the radio had turned off alongside the car, or maybe it's just the long month you'd spent apart - either way, all sounds are louder than they should be, your ears ringing with your moans, your wetness around his fingers and his lips against yours.

Goddamn.

He's working magic. You don't know how he hits the right spot again and again and again, his fingers curling, his thumb catching on your clit - but he has you clenching around him, warmth pooling in your core, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto his jeans within minutes.

You pull an inch away from him, your eyes still squeezed shut, your palms flattening against his shirt, and the only reason he knows he isn't just dreaming of you again is because you're warm and wet around his fingers. Everything else about you is unreal.

You're gorgeous. You're so damn stunning, rocking your hips back against him and moaning his name, your lips parted and your skin sweaty.

"Fuck", you pant, your chest rising and falling so tantalisingly that his eyes drop right down to your cleavage. "Just like that."

He has to grin to himself, but he lets it slide, if only because you're looking so pretty holding onto him as he pushes his fingers into you and circles your clit - just like that. Again and again, until you're digging your nails into his chest and catching your lip between your teeth and moaning his name, Jake, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck, until you're clenching around him and shuddering in his arms, until you're reaching your high not on your own, but on his fingers for the first time in four full weeks.

"Attagirl", he mutters, straining so hard against his pants that it hurts. "I've got you."

You press your lips against his jaw sloppily as you come down, your breath shallow, your skin burning, just needing to get your mouth on him. You can feel your heart beating, every thud, thud, thud against your chest. God. You hadn't come like that in a month. You'd come, sure, to the low rumble of his voice over the phone, calling you all sorts of sweet names and telling you just how to get off for him. But nothing could ever possibly beat the way he works you.

And still - even as you come down from your orgasm, you already crave the next, long and lust and hunger for him inside of you, not his fingers, but his cock.

"Jake", you mewl, slotting your lips over his and desperately dragging your tongue over them before you draw back an inch, your breath meeting his. "Fuck me? Please?"

He pulls his fingers out of you and raises his hand and before you can even really realise what you're doing, you're parting your lips and watching as he grins and presses his fingertips down on your tongue. God, he fucking tastes like you. You suck his fingers into your mouth obediently and lick them clean, looking at him out of lowered, half-lidded eyes and he fucking grabs at your waist with his other hand like his life depends on it.

Goddamn, it's been too long since he's watched this. Since he's had this sight in front of him. And holy mother of hell, what a sight that is.

Your cheeks hollowed out, your gaze caught on his, your lips wrapped around his fingers. His jeans are too tight. Too fucking tight. He needs relief. Now.

So he pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a low grunt and fumbles with the button of his jeans, quick and hurried. He's barely popped it open before your hands slip between his and push them out of the way. You drag down his zipper, reach into his briefs, finally, finally, finally! and he lets you, steadying his palms against your thighs and watching you tug your lip between your teeth.

"Condom", you breathe, then you glance up at him and blink - once, twice, thrice to get yourself back to reality. Condom. Condom, fuck, you're sure you've got one, you know you've got one, somewhere-

Jake takes his hand off your thigh and reaches for his pocket, pulling out a condom before you've even finished thinking.

You grab it from him almost reflexively, your fingers closing around it, tearing it open - quick and frenzied now, because you're not sure how much longer you can hold out. How much longer you can manage without having him.

You glance up at him before you roll it onto him, waiting, checking, if you can, if he'll let you- And how could he not? Fuck, he's got to clench his jaw and grab onto your waist just to hold back, to stay still. He hadn't meant for it to be like this. He'd meant to fuck you back at home, slow and steady, preferably in bed where he could really see you, where he could see every inch of you, not in the front seat of your car that he'd probably have to get cleaned tomorrow. But he can't fucking help himself. He can barely fucking wait until you've rolled the condom onto him, already grabbing at your bare thighs, slipping his hands below your dress, grasping at your stomach.

You steady your palms against his chest and breathe out a whine as his fingers slide across your boobs, pushing the fabric of your dress up, up, up, circling your nipples and damn, you've missed him. You've missed him so fucking much. It's been so fucking long. And you're so fucking desperate.

So you slowly sink down on him and let out a moan, rolling off of your tongue so filthily that he has to groan. Shit, shit- You hold yourself against him, drop your head against his shoulder and an open-mouthed kiss onto his skin.

"Fuck", he grunts, his fingers working frenzied circles onto your boobs, trying, desperately, no, needing to touch you, to feel you. God, you feel so good around him. Finally around him again. You take your time sinking down on him, catching your breath and pressing your lips against his neck, your eyes squeezed shut. Inch by inch, you take him - and the only way he can keep from bucking up into you is by trying not to concentrate on the way you feel around him (so, so fucking perfect), but instead do his best to breathe. Just... breathe. It's been too fucking long. And you're too fucking pretty. And he'll go fucking crazy.

"Jake", you mewl, your lips dragging against his jaw.

Instead of an answer, he turns his head and catches you in a kiss.

You whine into his mouth, your legs clamping around his, stilling as you adjust, your tongue running along his lips, his teeth, your hands fisting his shirt, clenching and cramping and pressing against his chest.

"Go on", he urges, pulling away no more than an inch, his breath shallow, mingling with yours. "Take what you want, darling."

"Fuck", you breathe, arching into his palms and steadying yourself against him, your teeth catching on your lip as you move - up, slowly, steadily, then down, faster, quicker, and again, and again. Holy hell. Moan after moan rolls off your tongue. He feels so fucking good. You're so fucking full of him. You find a rhythm, then that spot inside of you. Your head tilts back, your fingers clench into the collar of his shirt, your nails scratch against his skin.

He watches you, every inch of him tensing. You're gorgeous, so damn gorgeous, bouncing in his lap like this. You're stunning, your dress pooling around your hips as he drags his hands back down to your waist, thumbing at your stomach, circling and drawing against your skin. He's touching you. Now, here. It's not just a dream. It's not just his imagination. It's you, you, wrapped around him, moving up and down him, your palms against his chest, your eyes fluttered shut, your teeth digging into your lip.

"Just like that, keep going", he encourages, all low and deep, smooths his hands down your body and can't help but grin as you let out a soft mewl. It's been so long since he's heard you whine for him - so long since he's heard it without hundreds and hundres of miles between you, without the microphone ruining what have to be the sweetest sounds he's ever known. "Feeling good, baby?"

The air is heavy, heavy and sticky. It presses down on you, pushes against your skin, settles on your body and flattens your breath. Every single one of your nerve ends is on fire.

"Yes", you gasp, your eyes fluttering open to take him in, him in all of his very, very real glory right in front of you. He looks so handsome, so fucking handsome. Your thighs tighten, clench. You can feel yourself growing closer and closer and closer with every stroke, with every time you sink down on him. Fuck, he doesn't just feel good, he feels heavenly. He feels like everything you need. "So good, Jake."

The grin on his lips sends sparks through your body. It's confident, self-assured... Yeah, you're on top of him, you're moving, you're taking what you want - but he's in charge, you can see it in his eyes. He's in control. It's in the way he breathes, in the way his hands grab at your hips, in the way he palms at your skin. If it weren't for the red on his cheeks, for the sweat beading on his forehead, you wouldn't even have guessed he's all that affected. But he's hard, he's hard as a rock, and it's taking everything in him not to just buck up into you and come right on the spot.

He prides himself on his stamina. In all his years, he's always prided himself on his stamina - on how he can keep going long enough to make you come twice, thrice. And he'll hold out now, too.

But you're gorgeous. And you feel perfect. And you're close, you're clenching around him as you lean in to press your lips to his, to slot your mouths together and kiss him with all your might.

So you're not making it easy for him. Not at all.

He brushes his hand down to the inside of your thigh, leaves a trail of tingles on your skin before his finger finds your clit. You breathe out a whine that he easily catches on his tongue, your nails digging into his chest as he draws circles on your clit, on that sensitive bundle of nerves that has you melting, your eyes squeezing, squeezing, squeezing shut.

Fuck, fuck, you're close, you're close-

Just for a fleeting second, Jake debates pulling his hand away again and leaving you there, on this edge you're teetering on. Not forever, only until you'd got home or so. But he's too desperate to come, too wound up already, too close himself, and there's a much bigger part of him that wants to just fill you up in the driver's seat of your car, in this random parking lot, a month after he'd last had you. The part of him that will revel in knowing that you'll be sitting in the passenger seat for the next three hours with soaked panties, probably leaving behind a wet patch when you'll get out, the evidence of two orgasms right there-

"Fuck, Jake", you gasp and your head rolls back, your lips parting as your entire body clenches, every single muscle cramping and tightening at once, your nails digging hard and harder into his skin, your eyes squeezing shut. His finger on your clit doesn't still, just keeps drawing circles, keeps guiding you through your high, through the foggy haze you're swimming in as your body writhes and tingles.

Jake is too entranced, too enamoured, too captivated by you to even realise he's spilling inside the condom, coming as you do. He can't feel, can't see, can't touch anything but you - his hand grabs at your hip, it palms at your thigh. Anything to feel you. Anything to be with you as you unravel.

"Jake, fuck", you breathe, a lot more softly now. Your grip on him loosens. He'd barely noticed how your nails had still been digging into his chest, but now that you're pulling them away, stretching your fingers and steadying your palms flat against him, he can't help but miss them. You blink at him with the sweetest smile, your lips plush and kiss-swollen, and the view of you is so disarming that he can just so resist opening his mouth and letting those final three words roll off his tongue. But it's too early, it's way too early, even as you're sitting in his lap, even as you're squeezing his cock, even as he draws his finger away from your clit. He's never been the type to say it early. He won't now.

No, instead he raises his hand and rests his fingers against your lips. Once more today, you part them obediently and wait until he's pushed them onto your tongue. Then you close your mouth around them - he still tastes of you faintly - and suck, slathering them in saliva in that sloppy, messy, dirty way you know he likes, your head bobbing as you clean them off. You pull back just far enough to dig your teeth into his fingertips and bite down on them playfully.

Your lips tug into a grin as he draws his hand back, eyebrows raising, his gaze settling on you - still so very heavy, so intense, so fucking full of sex.

"You're a brat, darling", he chides, but he's already brushing strands of hair out of your face, tucking them behind your ears and then wrapping his arms around you to pull you even closer, even tighter to him. Your grin only grows as your fingers clench into the collar of his shirt.

"Maybe", you laugh breathily, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, one that's so addicting he thinks he might need to stay in this car, in this parking lot for the rest of eternity. "But you love it."

Jake chuckles as he chases after your lips.

"Such a brat."

[weebsinstash]

I'm not typically a fan of pregnancy au stuff for hazbin because it introduces a hell lotta new questions, but anyways, I DO find it absolutely entertaining thinking about a Reader who did the nasty with Alastor and had kind of a friends-with-benefits situation with him and he does his whole 7 year disappearing act without warning you or telling you anything at all (assumedly because he did not have a choice or opportunity) and he comes back, knocking on your front door, "say, doll! What's say we mosey on over to our old favorite jazz club to catch up on old times?"

and suddenly peeking out from behind your back is just the cutest little fawn with a head full of curls who is very clearly Alastor's son, clutching at your apron, "Mama, isn't he the man you listen to those old recordings of? He sounds the same"

Alastor feeling this, this WARMTH in his chest as you invite him inside your home and it's completely different from the last time he was there, filled with everything your son could need, his drawings and report cards from that nice school you break your back to afford stuck lovingly on the fridge and a hot home-cooked meal currently cooling on the stove as Alastor's invited for some food... if he feels comfortable. You and him discuss privately where your son can't hear as you get all weepy, "I'm sorry, but when you disappeared, I couldn't... ASK you what you would have wanted... I didn't want to have some kind of, of PROCEDURE and you hate me for it... and even from the very first scan, I loved him so much... he's my entire world... I couldn't even CONSIDER... getting rid of him. He's my beautiful smart baby boy and i would die for him"

Genuinely I think it would be real funny if Alastor is initially quite jealous actually for having to share you with a CHILD, but the more time he spends around the young boy, the more he realizes, oh, this is quite the upstanding young fellow! His mama raised him right and he likes to help around the house, likes to read lots of books, loves all kinds of music, helps his mother on all the crosswords and word searches and puzzle books, and he's smart enough to suss out pretty quickly, "sir are you my father"

and the second your son receives an answer, just, KICKING THE RADIO DEMON IN THE SHIN, "You're a horrible man!! You call yourself a gentleman but you left my mama to raise a baby all by herself!! You're terrible! Incorrigible! Disrespectful! Untoward!--" Your young son is breaking out the goddamn dictionary and synonyms on this man, "you lying, deceitful, devious, DEPLORABLE--"

And Alastor is watching this little kid threaten to beat his ass and not even caring that he's up against The Infamous Radio Demon, just shouting at Alastor until the young boy is absolutely changing colors in the face, getting SO SO upset for his mama that he's ready to FIGHT OVER IT, and Alastor is just, essentially, breaking out into laughter, "oh, so you ARE my son!! Aren't you a gutsy one!! Put JUST a little force behind that next one and it might actually sting a bit!" and pats the boy on the head. That settles it; he's accepted as Alastor's son like THAT

Of course, Alastor now caring for this boy does not come without its... complications. There might be some 'incidents' if you, for example, have other positive role models for your son, other men who are regularly coming around, making Alastor's new position as the boy's father and your not-quite-husband (yet) feel threatened and unstable and encouraging the Radio Demon to 'act out'. You're so happy to have Alastor back in your life that you don't even notice things are a little off until your son starts mentioning things like "Mama where did Mr Thomas go? He used to come by every Thursday to play chess but I don't remember seeing him for a while?" "Mama I know Benson has bullied me and pushed me down and stolen my things but I saw his mom crying outside the bookstore earlier saying he's gone missing and I think we should help look for him" "Mama I know Mr Alastor said we don't need her and he can teach me but I also like my old piano teacher. Could I have some lessons with her and some with Mr Alastor instead of just all of them with him? I miss Ms. Mason"

But like... you don't want to deny Alastor a relationship with his child after they both have already lost so much time and you don't want to deprive your son of his father without a good reason, so you stifle some of your suspicions. It's all for your son's sake, isn't it? And you can't help but, get a little selfish when Alastor insists on taking you and your boy out, going to see live bands, going to local events, taking your son to the county fair and you feeling tears in your eyes as, your boy finally gets to spend time with his father. It's like... it's like you're a real family... you've always wanted something like this, for him, for them, for yourself--

But... Alastor doesn't... see you THAT way, does he? He displays his emotions much differently than you, and there were even times in the past where Alastor himself drew the line in the sand that, oh yes you two were quite close friends, he has such a deep affection for you, but... romantically? Sorry, sweetheart, but no

... or so he thought. Now that he's back, he sees how deeply you love his son and sacrifice so much for him amd how much your son absolutely adores you and how, completely by yourself, without any of Alastor's help, you raised him into a fine young man that... the Radio Demon could see himself helping raise, a boy he can't help but feel a little pride in helping make and, can't help but feel a little sad he missed all sorts of important milestones for. And of course, of course of course of course, he missed YOU ever so much, and when Alastor looks up from his paper to see you at the stove, hair all out of place and your hands messy as you cook a meal for your son and his father, your little boy dutifully helping clean as you go, he can't help wish that THIS was how he spent his last 7 years.

Lucifer have mercy on anyone who tries to disrupt his new utopia of peace and tranquility. Could you even imagine, could you even fucking imagine you and Alastor are walking with your son and nearby TVs snap on and it's fucking Vox, showing your family on TV, talking shit to Alastor, using HORRIBLE language in front of your son--

And Alastor feels his love for you grow all the more as you use your own magic to surge through the television and begin strangling the newscaster right on the air, "DONT YOU DARE SHOW MY SON'S FACE ON TV YOU FUCKING--" and Alastor starts lovingly conversing with his son about how important it is to stand up for your family and your values as the pair of them watch you throw Vox around his recording studio in a frenzied rage, "You and your disgusting Vees always trying to peddle your worthless garbage to kids, you CREEPS!! BABIES DON'T NEED IPADS, RETINOL CREAMS, SKEEYEE DANCE ROUTINES, AND ATHLEISUREWEAR LEGGINGS THAT GO UP THEIR ASS, YOU CONSUMERIST IMMORAL SHELL OF A HUMAN BEING--"

Snapcut to you rejoining your family on the sidewalk with your hair a mess and visible blood on you while Vox is facedown on the floor in his broadcast unable to move before it cuts to a "technical difficulties, please stand by" screen. Alastor is oh so genuinely joyfully smiling, "Now who wants to go and get some waffles? I say we should celebrate any victory over our enemies with some tasty grub!!" and he takes you and your son's hands and is all but skipping down the sidewalk while his hated rival is bleeding out in his tower somewhere. Oh, Alastor will give the Television Demon his own revenge for daring to try and shame the lovely beautiful mother of his child and his beloved boy on that disgusting show. What kind of degenerate uses children for content, let alone threatens their safety? Alastor will be back for him later and do much, MUCH worse than you did.

For now, though? Alastor just wants to enjoy the sight of you and his son sitting in a booth with him while you all scarf down some hotcakes. A family of his very own, huh? How wonderful. If only his own mom were here to see it...

[actual-changeling]

i feel like all my meta posts just clicked and solved a puzzle in my brain. however i am also currently upping my sleep med dosage so if any of this sounds like the incoherent rambles of a mad man it's cause i am. incoherent and insane and rambling that is. (not a man)

but i have to write this post since i had a lightbulb realization moment.

because the thing is, besties, that aziraphale is a fucking horrible liar. he gets nervous and fidgety, he stutters, you can SEE him sweating anxiety. just look at him in the bookshop when the archangels inquire about their not-so-little 25 lazarii miracle.

his best "lies" are when he is actually telling the truth but twisted. he has never been a good liar (see job) and that has not changed in six thousand years. all smiles directed at archangels are visibly wrong, his discomfort is tangible.

whenever he panics it is written across his face clear as day, including, and this is the important bit, when he is talking to the metatron.

now, you are wondering why exactly that matters, and the point is something we have all talked and thought about for ages but my brain just. formed some new neural pathways.

because he is a terrible liar, he is horrible at hiding his emotions.

but you know who isn't?

crowley.

unless you know him, it is very hard to read his facial expressions with his glasses on. he can turn his emotions "off", he can put a wall in front of them and by extension around himself.

i talked about it more in this post, so for background info have a look at it (if you want to)

it's crowley's thing yet there is one moment, one, glorious moment in which aziraphale executes it perfectly. and that moment mirrors crowley putting on his glasses, it is aziraphale attempting to hide away all of his feelings and thoughts so no one can tell what he is really thinking.

the parallels besties. the fucking parallels.

what really sells it to me is that last comparison because it matches too well to not be intentional. honestly, after the sink story i think every little thing in this show is done on purpose and with attention to detail, so.

the empty look, the heartbreak, the pain - the realization. this is it. i am not walking away from this unharmed but i am walking away. or rather into the loneliness, the absence of the person i love.

for aziraphale also the realization that the world is about the get fucked and he is not.

after that we have the inhale of courage. taking a deep breath to calm yourself, to find your way back to your body. a kind of preparation we have all done at one point or another.

the mask slides into place. or at least you want it to slide into place, you are trying to fucking jam it into the spot you need it to be but sometimes it's like trying to push the square peg through the round hole.

it's a disconnect, it's putting up a physical and emotional wall. crowley does it to hide away from aziraphale.

aziraphale does it hide from heaven and the metatron, yes, but he does it to hide from himself. at his core, aziraphale compartmentalizes. he is so fucking good at cognitive dissonance it's scary, and that's what happens here.

he knows, he KNOWS, that he needs to lock up his feelings or he won't be able to get into that fucking lift and do what he thinks he needs to do.

and so he walks away from crowley just like crowley walked away from him, copying him and doing exactly what he has seen him do a thousand times: putting up wall after wall after wall. ripping out every sprout of vulnerability before it can bloom.

except that he stopped doing it after the no-pocalypse, and that is why it hurts so fucking badly when he puts his glasses back on.

he is not ripping out a sprout, he is uprooting an entire fucking tree

aziraphale cannot hide behind sunglasses by crowley so he hides underneath an angelic persona, the person he thinks he should be, needs to be, and the problem is that whenever he slips into that role, it becomes him.

getting crowley to take off his glasses again is going to be a herculean task and the same goes for getting aziraphale to drop his act. they're one and the same in shape and origin and purpose but they are not indestructible.

because listen. all of this is painful and it hurts. it really is.

the fun part, however, is the fact that we know exactly what it takes to destroy that barrier, we have seen it happen to crowley before.

my point is that we are missing the parallel for said destruction.

[biribaa]

I saw you were taking requests for The Amazing Digital Circus, so if you want can you please write Headcannons for Kinger, Caine, and a character of your choice x a reader who’s abstracting in front of them

Also remember to drink lots of water and to take breaks!

-🧪Anon

Kinger, Caine and Ragatha x reader who's abstracting in front of them

I appreciate your kindness but I'm a computer, I think water is one of the things I need to "drink" less and prevent more.

TW/CW: AHH... Spoilers, also angst. Reader does get abstracted in all scenarios cuz we still dont rlly know if someone can be saved from getting abstracted

Kinger

Imagine lost your partners TWICE. Lolololol loser/J

Everything seems to occur in slow motion from Kinger's point of view, a heart he once had is somehow beating against his body. He prays to any god on this earth, be it real or not, or even Caine maybe, that this nightmare isn't happening again to him. Please, everyone, but not you.

Kinger tries to do everything so his lover don't reach the great peak of their insanity, even though he's not very good at it, knowing his personality. But trust me when I said, he tried. Who cares if he will get all glitched for touching your form, he needs you.

He never thought he would live another nightmare inside a nightmare. And in seconds that felt like painful hours to Kinger, here "you" are, a noisy form covered in eyes that flash in different colors. Your skin (if we can call it skin) moves abruptly as if it were a bag full of enraged cats. And, god, how he wished it was him instead.

Things are resolved by the talking human jaw, and yet the silence in Kinger's little pillow fort is no longer comforting as it once was. Silence now makes the small chess piece itch in agony. Silence that could be enjoyed with your presence, with holding your hand or dancing with you, and chat about random stuff he and you knows. The feeling of missing someone is familiar to him, and yet, it hits him in ways that his years in this circus haven't hit him.

Caine

While Kinger tries to do everything, Caine actually does anything to try saving your corrupted mind, and the lack of power in this situation leaves the digital being in panic. A simple snap of the fingers is not enough, and this information makes him tremble in ways he never thought he would tremble before for a simple human.

You aren't just any character, you are his favorite, the lil' buddy he spoils every hour and that always push a giggle from him. You were his very own star. The show could continue the same without you, Caine was sure of it, but could he? Without a character as entertaining as you in action?

"Of course I can fix them, I am Caine!" It's a phrase that was repeated several times in the presenter's programming, But with every grunt coming from the thing that once was you, it's just a reminder to Caine that he did a horrible job trying to take care of you. There were other characters that were abstracted of course, but... You were special to him. His favorite star. His star.

Caine even feels hesitant to put you in the hole of other characters who were abstract before. He preferred to keep you in a cage away from other people's contact, with no one hurting you and no one hurting you.

He knows, he knows the painful truth that you cannot be considered a sapient being, but even though you are a trace of what you once were, Caine doesn't have the courage to lose you forever.

With the other characters, Caine will act normally, with his loud and lively personality. Only if they analyze Caine close enough, the characters would notice something wrong with him.

And then, sometimes, he just stares at you in the cage. Caine ponders if he should admit the lost of his favorite star, it would be easier, but the pride in his chest screams that there must be some way that he could actually save you from...this.

Ragatha

Somehow, the scene is all silent for her. Ragatha stares at you as if the impossible itself is happening in front of her.

Ragatha holds your hands about to disappear, she caressed what was left from your shoulders, she hurriedly whispers words that would normally calm you down, but nothing can save you from the fate of your sanity, just leaving her with the pain of being glitched.

Of course, she had her other friends like Pomni, but lost you?!

Ragatha thinks she saw everything during her new experience in the digital circus, but something common like losing someone so important was the end of the line for her. You were her darling, her sunshine and her little everything even.

Everything she did sounded slightly more boring and boring without your presence, and Ragatha could do nothing about it. She continues (at least tries) to remain strong after that, still trying to complete the little adventures that Caine gives to the participants. But Ragatha's slow pace and lack of smiles was very noticeable.

The weight on Ragatha's chest is too much, losing someone so sweet and perfect for her in such a horrible way is too much. And the worst part is that Ragatha believes that she could have done something to save you, she could have been with you more often so that your mind didn't fall apart like this. But now, she can do nothing but mourn.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up Graduation challenge.

What's A Little Grand Theft Auto Between Friends?

Prompt: Graduation | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Nudity for Comedy, Smoking, Brief Mention of Underage Drinking | Tags: Post S2, Class of '85 Graduation Party at the Quarry, Randomly Teaming Up, And Then Having Fun Together, Steve Gets an Alternate Introduction to Eddie's Hot-Wiring Skills, Steve Ain't Body Shy, He Spent Too Many Years in Locker Rooms, Pre-Steddie

Coming tonight was a mistake, he's realized, because Steve isn't comfortable with this crowd, not anymore. 

Decision made: He's leaving.

He places his plastic cup down on the open tailgate of a truck he's passing by.

"Thanks for the trash, Harrington," comes the snapping snarl, and Steve stops. He hadn't realized there was anyone sitting in the back of the truck. But there's Munson, in all black, blending into the night. The only thing visible, the cherry on the end of his lit cigarette.

"Sorry, man," Steve says, leaning up against the side of the pickup, "I didn't want to just, you know, throw it on the ground."

"How noble," Munson says, dripping with sarcasm.

Steve's too tired for another snotty showdown. Graduation party at the quarry sounded neutral enough, but he was wrong. He's done dealing with everyone, and everything, from Hawkins High.

Except Henderson and the kids. But they haven't started HHS yet, so they totally don't count, and tonight he can hate everything about the place.

Including the crown prince of shitty attitudes, Eddie "The Freak" Munson. 

Steve takes the few steps back, grabs the cup, slings the beer that was mostly untouched into the grass. Holding up the empty cup to show Munson he's corrected this horrible offense. 

"That's more like it," Munson says, cigarette dangling from his lip.

"Well, that's my cue," Steve says, and keeps walking.

"Wait! Wait a second," Munson asks, no demands, and Steve has no idea why he even thinks about going back, let alone does it.

But he does.

Backpedaling the few steps until he can almost see Munson again.

"What?" Steve asks. 

"You leaving already?" Munson questions, and Steve just bobbles his head, because yeah, obviously.

"Can I get a ride back to town?" Munson asks, and Steve arches an eyebrow.

"Is this not your truck?" Steve asks.

"Nope," Munson answers, and Steve's hand flies up to toss the empty cup right at Munson's forehead.

Munson bats it away, laughing, as it clatters around noisily in the truck bed.

"You're a dickhead," Steve says, but then just wheels his arm around, silently telling Munson to hurry up if he's coming. Munson grins, wide and wolfish, hopping over the side with ease, landing on both feet with a resounding thud.

Then he holds out his arm in a sweeping after you gesture. Steve shakes his head and starts walking back to his car, hoping like hell he's not blocked in.

He is. 

"Well, shit."

"I got this," Munson says, trying the doors of both cars boxing them in, nearly touching bumper. Billy and Tommy, of fucking course. 

The Camaro is locked, but Tommy's isn't, and Munson slides into the driver's seat. Curious, Steve sinks into the passenger seat. 

Munson pulls out a multi-tool of some kind, and before Steve has a chance to realize exactly what he's doing, Munson has the cables pulled out from under the dash.

"Holy shit," Steve says, leaning closer, "where'd you learn to do that?"

"Well, when the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball, my old man was teaching me how to hot-wire. Now, I swore I wouldn't wind up like he did, but they wanna be dickheads? We'll all be dickheads. What's a little grand theft auto between friends?"

Friends. They aren't friends, and Steve's aware of that fact, acutely. But he'd be lying if it didn't feel kinda nice to hear from someone, even as a lie.

So, Steve grins, "Not a thing. Friend."

Eddie backs up Tommy's car, then pulls the wires, killing the engine. Afterwards, he stuffs everything back up under the dash. 

"Won't that-" Steve starts.

"Yup," Eddie answers, "gonna be deader than shit and he's gonna have no idea why."

"My man," Steve says, holding up his fist, and Eddie eyes him, but eventually bumps it back. "Thanks. This is hilarious, and he'll never suspect me. Like, I can't do that, and Tommy knows it."

"That's why it's good to have shady characters on your side, Harrington."

"Guess so," Steve agrees, and once they're back in Steve's car, Steve backs up, pulling away, easily.

Eddie digs his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, "Can I?"

"Only if you light me one," Steve answers, watching as Eddie slides the cigarette along his own bottom lip, into his mouth, puffing as he lights it, then reaches over to place it between Steve's parted lips.

Steve feels funny about it, in a way he doesn't exactly understand, just for a second, before shaking it off.

"So, why was King Steve bailing so early tonight?" Eddie asks.

"Eh, I don't know. Guess I realized I'd graduated and had no interest in seeing any of those assholes again."

"Well, I didn't graduate, but same."

"You didn't graduate?" 

"Nah, maybe the third time will be the charm," Eddie answers. "Going from King Steve, to running as fast as you can. I'm proud of you, big boy."

It's so unexpected, Steve's sure he looks stupid, before he busts out laughing, "Well, that's a new one."

"Really? Are the rumors not true? I'll be so disappointed," Eddie asks, looking dramatic, feet now resting on Steve's dashboard. Steve doesn't have the energy to tell him no.

"What rumors?"

"About your big dick, man. Girls talk. I listen."

What? That's. What?

"Well, I gotta piss, so you can take a gander for yourself, I guess," Steve banters, parking and hopping out of the car along the dirt road. 

He knows Eddie doesn't actually wanna look, but two can play this game.

So, Steve doesn't go to the trunk, to the cover of darkness. No, he heads right up front, illuminated by headlights, and takes his dick into his hand. Lays it on his palm, like he's presenting it.

He looks through the windshield, but can't really see Eddie's reaction. Bummer.

But, then Eddie's hand pops out of the passenger window, giving him a big thumbs up.

And Steve tosses his head back, laughing.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[codenamethebird]

Ok here's a little (not really) analysis/theory post about Hades 2, because I'm obsessed. Its consumed all my thoughts. And I need to talk about a theme I think will (hopefully) be addressed as the game progresses.

Here's some examples of dialogue that starts to touch on this conflict between mortals and the gods. What exactly do mortals deserve? We also have literal Icarus "flew too close to the sun" here too (and probably Pandora). Chronos was able to sway many to his side with a promise of a golden age without the gods, which is presented by the narrative as a foolish venture. And not saying it isn't, or that Chronos is the secret good guy here, but I believe Chronos is taking advantage of a very real hurt that exists for mortals.

This line from Nemesis really stood out to me, because it implies that while mortals have a concept of evil, the gods don't. Which sounds ridiculous but the more you think about it makes total sense. The gods in Hades (and just greek myth in general), are kind of the worst. They are petty and selfish, they literally attack you if their boon isn't picked first, and most vitally in this context, often utterly disregard mortals.

For example, one of the things that drove me a little crazy in Hades 1, was how chill everyone was with Demeter's never ending winter. Demeter was killing possibly millions upon millions of mortals and everyone else just sort of let it happen. Maybe complained a bit because it was annoying to them, but just stood by. And that's just one example. Mortal's have a very valid reason to hate the gods.

And considering we have more areas of the surface to explore that aren't out yet, I have a feeling Melinoë is going to be meeting some of these discontent mortals. And my hope is they are going to be nuanced characters, that will challenge Melinoë not just in a fight, but her very ideals.

Because Melinoë is very deferential to the gods, waaaaaay more that Zag ever was. Unlike Zag, who was more like a bro to them and was willing to suck up to them for personal gain, Melinoë seems to genuinely mean all the respect she gives them. She praises them, defends them when they are insulted, and just generally very polite to them.

In a smaller scale, she describes Hypnos as having a wisdom about him and can somehow sense her intensions while asleep. Which as Nem implies, the version in Melinoë's head doesn't exactly line up with reality (though sidebar, I am a believer in Chekov's Hypnos and that he's going to somehow save the day and put Chronos in a never ending sleep or something, but that's beside the point haha).

Melinoë's reverence to the gods makes total sense of course. She was denied her family and a happy childhood, and because of that has glorified them all in her head. The Olympians are sending her vital aid on her holy mission for vengeance and to save her family, even as their own home is being attacked, how honorable of them!

And I think part of Melinoë's arc is that perfect picture of them breaking into pieces. Yes, they are the better of the two options between them and Chronos, but that doesn't mean they aren't also kind of the worst. That mortals deserve better than frivolous gods that can decide on a whim their fates for better or worse (love u Moros but I'm still fucked up over you and your sisters giving mortals horrible doom endings when you were bored. At least he feels bad now but still. Perfect example of gods even when not intending to having horrific consequences for mortals). And maybe like how Zag healed relations with his family, Melinoë can start repairing relations between the Gods and Mortals.

[dresshistorynerd]

This is kind of random, but would it have been a struggle for a big busted women to wear fashionable silhouettes in the medieval era? I’ve heard some costume historians discuss that there were forms of bust support, but most of what I’ve seen pre-1500s seems like it would have been a nightmare for any ancestor with a similar bodytype to wear. Am I just from a line of women doomed to horrible back pain? (On the flip side of the situation, I’ve found corsets and stays to be rather comfortable, so that’s not a problem)

As a fellow big boob haver, I have good news for you! There were pretty good Medieval bust supporting garments and I have tested one of them.

With sturdy fabric, tailoring and lacing you can create pretty good bust support. Lacing was popularized first in 12th century in form of bliaut, and in 14th century tailoring became standard for everyday garments. I don't know how well bliaut supported the bust, but since it doesn't fit super snugly, I assume it doesn't distribute the weight of the boobs as well as tailored supporting garments and therefore isn't as supportive. I'm also not actually sure if there was proper bust supporting garments before that, I haven't looked into it. I know Romans bound their breasts with cloth wrapped around the chest, so maybe that technique continued (at least for those who especially needed it) till lacing and tailoring became a thing. For more about how supporting garments developed in Europe through history, I have a post about development of lacing, which coincides pretty well with that history from 12th century forward.

Personally I have experience with Medieval Bathhouse dress, which was used in the Germanic Central-European area roughly in 14th to 16th century. It's called the Bathhouse dress because most depictions of it are from bathhouse settings, but there's depiction also in bed chambers and other contexts, so I think it's pretty safe to assume it was used more generally as an undergarment. It often had separate cups for the boobs (see the only extant garment left of it, the so called "Lengberg Castle Bra"), but not always. Unlike most other undergarments at the time, it was sort of a shift (the lowest layer) and a supporting garment combined into one.

I sewed my own recreation of it (with some alterations because I made it for my everyday use, not as a historical recreation) and did a post about my results, where I go deeper into the history of the garment too. I didn't construct it very well and I did an error in the design of the back, which cause the strain of the shoulder straps to focus too much on very specific spots in the back panel, which eventually made the fabric there break too many times. (There were some other smaller design flaws too, like the waistline is lower than my natural waist so it rose and wrinkled annoyingly.) I did use it daily (except when I washed it) for a fairly long time though and it was super comfortable and helped a lot with back pain (and shoulder pain caused by use of modern bras). I hate that I've had to go back to modern bras because I haven't had the time to remake it yet. (I'll probably make a follow up post once I get around to it, where I go through the issues of the first version and how I addressed them in the next attempt.) Well fitted and shaped bodice which is then laced does surprisingly much even without any additional reinforcements.

I haven't made a Medieval kirtle (though I will some day), but it was the more widely used Medieval supporting garment, which eventually replaced Bathhouse dress in the area where that was used. Kirtle is worn over a shift, but it broadly works similarly. Kirtles could be front, side or back laced depending on the time period and how the Kirtle was constructed. Multiple layers of kirtles could be used and looser overgarments (like houppelande) were often used on top of it. Kirtle was used by everyone, including men, but for those who didn't need bust support, it's purpose was mainly to create the fashionable silhouette. Here's three depictions of kirtles from 15th century. First unlaced, but has lacing on the front, second close up of the side lacing and third shows nicely how both front and side/backlacing shaped the bust.

Morgan Donner is a costumer, who focuses a lot on Medieval costuming and has a big bust, so while I haven't personally tested the supportiveness of kirtle, she certainly has. The kirtle bodice part needs to be patterned to accommodate the breasts by giving it round shapes and the kirtle needs to be a little too small so there's room to lace it to fit well. Lining also helps to reinforce the fabric and make it more firm and supportive. Here's Morgan's pattern from the tutorial in her website and how the kirtle eventually fits for her. (Also look at the handsome boy in his handsome matching outfit.)

She also has a video relating to the same kirtle project, where she explains her method to pattern a kirtle specifically so it's supportive for big bust.

In 16th century more stiffness was added to kirtles, first with very stiff lining and then with boning, but that doesn't necessarily add to the bust support, rather it just allows the kirtle to shape the bust and the body in general more and better support a heavy skirt. Firm fabric secured snugly with lacing is already very good at distributing the weight of the boobs to the whole torso.

In conclusion, at least since 14th century people with our body type were not doomed to eternal back pain and even before that some ways to help with it were probably used.

[factual-fantasy]

I realized we know the least about the river person in ya au.

Care to remedy that?

Well to be honest.. not a whole lot has changed about her. I keep forgetting she exists and I don't have a lot of ideas for how she could interact with the group..

Though speaking of her, recently I tried to dig into her character a little more and I started by making a redesign for her. Although its only the first pass and Isn't official yet-

And despite my attempts, for now her story and character is still relatively the same..

She was just a lonely boat keeper. She would come home from her shifts to a gloomy house where no one was waiting for her. No family, no friends.. no pets or hobbies.. she didn't really have anything going on except for running the boat. And to be honest.. she was kind'a okay with that in a way. She just accepted that this was her life, and this is how she lives. And its not like she had no joy in her life. Her joy came from running the boat.

She would take all kinds of people down the river, and they would talk to her. They would tell her wonderful things. The children would talk about their hopes and dreams. What they wanted to be when they grew up.. what their favorite food was. They'd tell her about that crazy looking frog they saw on the way here.

The elderly would tell her stories of all the places they'd been and all the things they'd seen. And even if they didn't talk to her directly.. she still overheard some interesting conversations. The young couples would talk about what they were planning on naming their first child. They would talk about what they wanted their house to look like and how many pets they wanted to have.

And sometimes the people on the boat didn't talk at all. Sometimes they looked sad and wouldn't look up from their feet.. So she would sing to them. And when they got off she would tell them "I hope you're day gets better. I enjoyed your company." And the few times she got a smile back made it all worth it.

She put her value of herself and her life on the people around her. Transporting people from point A to point B and occasionally cheering people up.. was all the worth she really felt she had..

But then Jevil and his group came along for a boat ride. Half way down the river Jevil breaks out in a cold sweat and starts to shake. Somethings wrong.

"This world is about to end." The group perks up "What?"

Grabbing Seams sleeve beside him he says louder and frantically "THIS WORLD IS ENDING"

Jevil jumps up and makes a mirror below the water large enough to swallow the boat whole.

As they fall through the mirror, horrible soul breaking sounds can be heard as that timeline collapses in on itself.

The boat probably landed in a snowdin somewhere.. or maybe another waterfall? Or maybe in a dark world.. where ever it landed, Jevil was looking the group over when he saw River Person..

"Where.. am I?"

He had done it again. Ripped someone out of its AU just as it was dying...

I intended for River person to have some kind of survivors guilt. Thinking her life had no real value and that anyone else in her AU deserved to have been saved in her place. Almost the opposite of Grillby.

Grillby hates Jevil becuase he valued his life and lost everything he held dear.. River Person doesn't hate Jevil for saving her at all. She's not sad about losing her life becuase she never really had one.. She's just grieving for all those people who died and wishes any of them could have been saved in her place.

The guilt really eats her up inside..

[howtodrawyourdragon]

I'm gonna say it; Hiccup did nothing wrong. We're treating him as the biggest problem of THW when literally his worst crime in is somehow losing his freckles and that's not even something he has control over. Oh and that kind of incredibly stupid plan of literally moving an entire people by going "let's just fly straight until we hit something :) even though I, Hiccup Haddock, somehow don't believe the world is round."

The entire rest of the movie is everyone else around him being horrible and out of character.

Berk is a mess in the beginning of the movie, yes. But it was also just a year ago that his father was horribly murdered in front of him because Draco Bloodyfist-Or-Whatever decided to sent his mind controled best friend after him. Everybody expects Hiccup to be put together and solve all problems immediately and remain a Dragon Rider when he should be buying a therapist a mansion and a yacht with all those billed sessions.

Then there is being told more than once that he's putting Astrid second when he literally isn't. And told he should meet her standard.s

There is all that stuff about how he's been a horrible pet owner to Toothless when he had legitimate and real fears about Toothless not making it out in wild and about the Light Fury turning on him and about him not coming back. (Like... he's a disabled dragon, for Gods' sake??? Toothless will literally NOT make it without human intervention)

He's called out for not embracing change when his name was literally synonymous with change before THW and every bit of change he proposes in the movie is met with backlash unless Astrid, their not-chief, says it's okay.

His mother, who abandoned him for 20 and came home with him after the traumatic loss of his father spends most of the movie not being the mother she promised him to be in the second movie and even advocated for the Riders to be less dependent on dragons when she was with dragons for the entirety of those 20 years.

And then there is all the bullying. Making fun of his voice, telling him- a disabled person- to LOSE THE LIMP, telling him he's not worthy of Astrid the warrior goddess (completely forgetting how Hiccup is both parts warrior and diplomat in at least the previous two movies, let alone the movies and the shows) and these three things are all said by Tuffnut! "Forgets he has a sister in THW" Tuffnut!

And let's not forget Snotlout's "who died and made you chief?!" when Snotlout was literally crying at Stoick's funeral. And then proceeds to hit on the dead man's wife and his best friend's mother while also putting said best friend down!

Like... none of the things said to him in the first movie were as bad as some of the things said in THW.

The entire movie is also basically Hiccup being pulled from one direction to the other.

It's "You're a bad chief because you're not changing anything" yet it's also "how dare you make this change!"

It's "you should step up as chief" yet it's also "we will only listen if Astrid says it's good."

It's "you were literally keeping Toothless captive for 6 years :/" yet it's also "Uuuhhh, time to cut the umbilical cord, don't you think? 🙄"

It's "you let Toothless go free, what did you expect?" yet also "uh, you let him go???"

It's "you are literally nothing without Toothless, sorry :/" yet it's also "Toothless only showed you what was already inside."

It's "you should put Astrid first for once" yet it's also "I, Hiccup, will literally listen to every single word you, Astrid, says even if it's hurtful."

It's "I, Astrid, will suggest to you, Hiccup, that we go find Toothless in the hidden world" yet it's also "I, Astrid, will blame you, Hiccup, for deciding to go to the Hidden World, making the Light Fury, who you have no control over, to follow us back home"

It's "hey man, can you help me with this dragon tail? :(" yet it's also "I will literally not listen to you when I'm about to break this branch that I and the dragon tail are on."

I mean, my God! I'd sent the dragons away if I had to listen to that for the past year after I watched my father die a gruesome death.

And that's not even the worst part. The worst part is Toothless abandoning Hiccup for the most shallow reason there is; chasing dragon tail that doesn't even want anything to do with him unless he does something that impresses her when he's the king of the dragons.

So yeah, probably an unpopular opinion, but besides one bad plan, Hiccup did nothing wrong besides listen to what all the people around him were saying, no matter how much they contradict themselves.

Really, what he needs is a hug. A Real one. :(

[freyito]

Since Halloween is coming up, can you write headcannons on how the lin kuei trio (Bihan, Smoke and Kaui Liang) would be if they went to a scary attraction with their s/o?

im on a ROLL with these fluff prompts, like i actually love them all sm, please keep requesting them!!!! i love writing for the lin kuei trio especiallllyyyyyy. ALSO CAN HALLOWEEN COME AROUND FASTER??? THE HEATS BARLEY DIED DOWN, I WANNA DRESS GOOD

cw: fluff, gn reader, clowns, proofread

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴ ᴋᴜᴇɪ ᴛʀɪᴏ + ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

Tomas...

is lowkey terrified. Johnny put him up to this. Told him it'd make you two closer. He said it's a really good bonding experience. And Tomas believed him. Johnny didn't lie, but Tomas just didn't know it would be this scary. Yeah, he's seen worse, he's a ninja, after all. But something about clowns... eugh. It will always be the clowns that get such a visceral reaction from him. He'll flinch, get all close to you, and maybe even hide behind you. You'll hear all sorts of Czechian swears under his breath, Jdi do hajzlu, while he holds onto your shoulders. You'd think, for a hunter and a ninja he'd be a lot less skittish, but Tomas insists it's simply just scary. However, if you're skittish too, Tomas will try and be calm for you. He likes being your protector, I mean, that's what he, as a Lin Kuei Ninja, is in essence. It's just hard to uphold that kind of façade when there are so many clowns lurking about, with their evil giggles and horrible face paint.

Bi-Han...

doesn't understand the appeal. He isn't really phased. But, he's so sure that Johnny had a hand in this. He doesn't even flinch, not when those clowns Tomas hates jumps out at him, when the zombies groan at him, or even when those fake serial killers rev their chainsaws at him. Because of this, some of the scare actors have decided to make Bi-Han a personal target, some even placed bets on him. And a lot of them have realized that maybe the one on his arm is the key to scaring him. Not like he'll let that happen. He quite enjoys the fact that you're clinging to him, squeezing his bicep and all. Now Bi-Han knows you feel safe with him, even if it's against some phony scare actor. Truth be told, he enjoys having you like this. Not that he's going to tell you that. Once Bi-Han catches onto the scare actors game with you, he makes it his personal mission to foil their plans. Yes, he enjoys having you use him as your shield, but he isn't gonna let those actors use you as leverage. So he buys you the no-scare lanyard. And if you refuse to wear it, he will. Proudly. Not like the actors have scared him yet, anyways.

Kuai Liang...

loves haunted attractions of any sort. He's a little bit of an adrenaline junkie. He loves getting scared, his favorite things are usually the actors up on stilts. And the bonus of holding you close, feeling like your knight in shining armor. Kuai Liang loves throwing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you in, especially when you find yourself hiding behind him. Bonus points if he gets to pull you even closer when one of the actors jumps out at you. Kuai Liang likes to get you to face your fears, even if they're your temporary fears. Doesn't mean he'll force you to do something you don't want to, but he likes the thrill of it and he hopes you will too. Kuai Liang will even carry you, if you so wish. He really can't get enough of the attractions, and normally you and him are there until it's closed. He actually kind of mourns when it closes. But hey, as long as you enjoyed it as much as he does, he leaves happy.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[akiizayoi4869]

The Southern Raiders

Been meaning to make my own post about this episode for a while now, so here it is. The main thing I hear about this episode is that Aang didn't understand Katara's pain at all but Zuko did. The notion that a genocide survivor doesn't understand another genocide survivor is certainly one hell of a take, and it's very stupid. Are we really going to forget the air nomad genocide?

Aang lost EVERYTHING because of the war. And to make it worse? He feels guilty because he wasn't there to stop it from happening (even though he wouldn't be able to do much since he hadn't mastered the four elements yet) because he ran away from his duties as the avatar. When Aang finds Monk Gyatso's body in the Southern Air Temple episode, he's overcome with so much grief and anger that he triggers the avatar state:

Katara herself even compares what she's been through to what Aang was feeling in this moment by saying "I know how hard it is to lose the people you love! I went through the same thing when I lost my mom." Certainly sounds like two people who understand each other perfectly if you ask me. Also, in the Lost Adventures comics, we're shown that the Fire Nation used a dirty tactic to smoke out any other airbenders that might have escaped from the genocide.

We see how happy Aang was to learn that some airbenders may have survived, only to find out that it was all a lie to capture any remaining survivors. At the end of the comic he looks disappointed and crushed knowing that the possibility that air nomads fell for this trick and were killed as a result.

A lot of people take Katara saying "I knew you wouldn't understand" to Aang as her saying that he doesn't understand her pain, but if you actually look at the context? That's not what she's saying at all. What she means is that she knew that Aang wouldn't understand her need for VENGEANCE. For her desire to kill her mother's killer. Because Aang was taught that revenge isn't the answer. Even though Aang absolutely understands how she felt, something that he says himself:

In both of those moments he felt extreme anger and hatred, both strong negative feelings that would have caused him to lash out and do something that he would regret later on. Who stops him in both cases? Katara. She calms him down (and can I just say that I think it's really poetic that in this specific episode, Aang's words are what calms Katara down in the end, and is why she decided to spare Yohn Rha?) in his moments of rage, something that he's grateful for.

Another argument that I've seen is that Zuko understands her pain more than Aang because he also lost his mother. While I can see why people make this comparison, those are two entirely different situations. Ursa was banished because she protected Zuko from being killed when he was a child. Which means that she's still alive (as we later find out from those horrible comics). Kya, on the other hand, was KILLED because she protected Katara by saying that she was the waterbender that they were looking for. This happened in a genocidal raid by the Fire Nation. Safe to say that Zuko can never understand what that feels like.

Also, it's pretty crazy to me how people can say that Aang was wrong in this episode, when Zuko HIMSELF says that Aang was actually right, and that what Katara needed in the end wasn't revenge. Aang knows Katara a lot better than Zuko does, and he knows that killing the man who killed her mom would have absolutely destroyed Katara because of the kind of person she is. Just like Aang remembering how he killed all of those Fire Nation soldiers in the North Pole while he was in the avatar state and being controlled by his past lives and the ocean spirit caused him to have nightmares and be terrified of what the avatar state can do. Both of them are alike in that regard. The closest thing I can say that Zuko understands about Katara is her anger. Boy spent 3 seasons being angry so he definitely understands that. But other than that? He doesn't understand her, which is to be expected since he just joined them a few episodes ago, and spent a whole year chasing them and trying to capture Aang. So he's just started getting to really know everyone on a personal level. In conclusion, Aang did indeed understand Katara, and his words were exactly what she needed to hear.

[bellanoche-oxo]

I'm sorry this isn't a commission, but I just have a question about your art. Feel free to ignore this, of course. I was really amazed by your Miku drawing from December 16th. Seeing such a high-level piece, I wanted to achieve something similar, but no matter how much I try, I can't replicate your shading and highlights. I was so genuinely curious that I couldn't sleep. Could you possibly give me any hints or advice?

Hey, sorry for making you wait so much for this answer, i've been finishing some projects and i barely had free time. Anyways i'll try to do my best on explaing my coloring and lighting methos and you also asked me to explain how i create the folings of the clothes. Please take in consideration that 1 i am not native in english so it's a bit difficult for me to explain myself sometimes in this language and i may have some misspelings, sorry about that, and also 2 i am not great at explaing my drawing process bc i kind of turn off my brain when i draw lol, but i can explain the fundamentals that i know and help me create! Last thing i want to let you know is that i've started glazing my art, this is a metho to protect the images for AI images generators and it leaves a kind of pattern /effect on the image that i did not put there during the drawing process.

with all of this said let me start explaining things!

Learn the basics:

This may come as a cliche i guess, but yes my first ever advise to anyone is learn the basic theory on lighting and colors (on anything related to art tbh). You don't really need to spend a lot of money on books and such as there are lots of resources online like videos and documents you can read for free. It's not necesary to be an expert and even the smallest mount of knoledge is enought to inpruve your art a lot! , i find it very interesting to learn the way things work too so don't think you'll get bored of it!

To be frank, i am actually not very good at lighting lol. My lights and shadows are not very correct, but since i do have a lot o control over my colors and i know very well how to used them it kind of compensates and creates a very recognisable (i think) style.

just u know basic shitty advise that everyone is going to give you but it works! if you have free time try watching some videos or reading some documents about color theory shadow and lighting!

Your working space:

So this is something that works FOR ME not everyone likes it, you can try it see if you like it and if you do, cool! if you don't … that's cool too! When drawing on digital i prefer it when my base layer is grey instead of white. It helps with my headaches too but it's more about the fact that starting in a middle tone when coloring (in my opinion) makes the process of briging out both shadows and lights easier, let me give you an example:

Drawing from complete light (white) to compplete darkness (black) may condicion you to actually lose control in the contrast betwen these areas, i prefer staring in a middle place (grey) and that way is i want to show darkness i'll use a darkr color and if i want to show light i'll use a lighter color, but if i start on white i can't use anything lighter. I think i did a HORRIBLE job explaing myself there, but yeah it just helps me control my color valius a bit more lol.

this is the color that i used:

Another inportant thing about your woking space is you brushes, in my case i prefer using textured brushes that mix well, and i prefer using very thick strokes, if it's too think i'll just color pick the transparent color and ease it! I work in CSP i don't know what you use, but just in case i'll give you the setiings of the brushes i use the most with their codes so you can find them

Sculpting with lights and shadows

As i said before, i am not very good with light yet, so this is something that i do to help me with the process. When you think about it, lighting is used in art to give volume to the piece, not in every case bc rules in art are not there to be followed but to asist us when we need to take a creative decision. The way that we can start with our Sculpting is by creating a very easy first guide othe the shadows and lights and to do it with very big block, so that we get the general shape first,we don't neet to get lost in the detailds yet

The actual coloring

When drawing my process is divided in three stages. I first create the doodle/lineart, that doesn't neet to be super neat as i will fix it during the rendering. The basic colors, and the rendering.

During the preparation for the rendering when doing the base colors i recomend that you give special atention to the focal points of your illustration, in this case for example that's her face and the top of the hair, that's why i gave so much more atention for this part in comparation to the shirt, that it's literally not shadowed yet. Then another step that i use normally before rendering and that i can NOT RECOMEND ENOUGHT!!!! GO WILD WITH THE COLOR CURVES!!!! OMG!!!! THAT STUPID LITTLE TOOL IS SO FUCKING COOL!!!!!!!!! like for real, it gives effects that i have not been able to achive in any other way and omggggggg use the fucking color curves pleaaaaaaseeeeee

ok i'm notmal again , lets continue.

For the rendering i usually convine all the layers of the drawing on one layer, then use a textured brush that has low opacity of mixes very well fot the actual work. Tbh here is very i can't really help you a lot, bc i have no idea what i'm doing when i render i just don't know, the only thing i recognise is that i try to esare or clean the lines from the doodle/lineart, and i focus a lot on creating volume in the places that are more important.

Skins

An specific thing that i do a lot when it comes to coloring skin is using an undertone in red (literally) I will put the basi color, use the brush to mark where i want shadows to be in a very vibrant red and then use a blue / green / pruple (depends on the skin) to finish the shadowing. Thios metho is nice for lots of occasions, but take in consideration that it doesnt work for example for very dark scenarios where the character is suppoused to be in the shadows, as that red tone works as a outline for the light. It just depends on the situation.

Clothes foldings:

Ok so here the only thing i can give you an advise with is to remember that the way that clothes fold dependes on gravity and that gravity works in curves most of the time that have two (or more) attachment points that are going to determinate theit trajectory. Example:

And remeber that this creates (again) a volume, that there is an inside part, that it's probably going to be draker, and an outside part, that it's going to be lightter. With this info you can start practicing with images of clothes.

this is as much information as i am able to recolect on my coloring process bc i am horrible explaining , spacially on text and in english, and i am also not very much aware when i draw, i kind of disconect. I still hope this is enough to help you a bit on your learning journy.

I may try doing a video at some point if i ever have the time so i can explain my coloring while i actually do it bc if not in that situation i'm not sure i'll be able to remeber what it is that i did.

My last piece of advise is to watch speedpaints and livestreams of artists you like during their drawing process and maybe even tray to imitate them while they are drawing to see what it is that they do exccly.

hope you have a good day and lot of lucks ! be proud of being able to create and be proud of being an artist!