#Ary answers

[arieslost]

getting shy and covering your face while lando puts you in missionary, but he just LAUGHS AT YOU and peels your hands away, claiming that he wants to see your beautiful face when he’s fucking you

the first thing you ever noticed about lando norris was how beautiful his eyes were. the second thing you noticed about him was how intense those eyes were when they’re looking directly at you.

you thought it was hard enough to be on the receiving end of his unrelenting eye contact when you were simply having a conversation, but then you truly learn how hard it is when you sleep with him.

the both of you are certainly experimental, but lando loves nothing more than putting in all the work in order to make you feel good, so missionary is his go-to position, surprising as that may be. and you have yet to be fully okay with the way he stares at you like you hung the moon and the stars while he’s fucking you. not that you don’t like it— you’re just shy, and those gorgeous eyes of his can be overwhelming. lando thinks it’s funny that you still try to hide.

it’s gotten to the point where he can’t contain his laughter, bordering on condescension, every time you try to hide from his gaze when he has your back on the mattress, hips grinding against yours and eyes mapping every inch of your face like it’s the first time he’s looking at you. you still have the audacity to cover your face, and he won’t have it.

“i don’t think so, pretty,” he’ll laugh, wrapping one large hand around both of your wrists and lifting your hands from your face to above your head. “if you wanna come tonight, you have to look at me.”

you whine in response, face heating up both from his words and overwhelm at how he’s looking at you.

“need to see your beautiful face,” he continues, movements picking up to a faster pace. “no hiding, yeah?”

at this, you’ll make a feeble attempt to free your wrists from his grasp. to no avail, of course. he’ll just laugh more, leaning down to kiss you, and if you don’t open your eyes when he pulls away, then he’ll stop everything he’s doing and wait until he gets his way.

[shurisneakers]

saw your requests were open and i figured i would humbly aid 🫡

everyone is always like “oh! bucky with a golden retriever reader this! bucky with a sunshine reader that!” what about bucky with a reader who’s just as moody as he is??

no one ever writes two grumps together and i think it would be an interesting dynamic

Summary: It's New Years Eve and this man simply refuses to do anything but be a pain in your ass.

Warnings: cursing, alcohol

A/N: Sid. did you know. did you know that you're literally a genius. you're so right about grumpy x grumpy. i do not know if I have done this justice but I wrote this out on my phone because I like this request so much thank you for sending one in 😭❤️

New Year’s Eve is a migraine wrapped in tinsel and cheap champagne. You’ve seen too many years roll over into nothing to care anymore.

Doesn’t matter. You’re here because the bar’s open, and when someone says “open bar,” you take it as a challenge to see how open it can really be.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asks.

“Whatever’s most expensive.”

He ducks under the counter, comes back with a bottle that looks more like a museum piece than alcohol. Fancy glasswork, gold lettering, the works.

He starts, “This one’s got notes of—”

“Let me see,” you interrupt.

The second the bottle’s in your hands, you turn and walk away.

He sputters behind you, but you wave him off. “Put it on the billionaire’s tab."

You snake through the crowd and confetti, nodding at a few familiar faces but not stopping for any. Emergency exit in sight, you take a seat where you can watch the chaos unfold while staying out of it.

"Pass the bottle."

You don't even bother looking at him as you respond, "Go steal your own."

"You took the most expensive one."

"Get another one."

"This is easier."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Real festive of you."

Still, despite your best efforts, he’s already taking a seat, uninvited.

You take another swig before passing the bottle to him without another word.

He glances at you. "Why are you here?"

"Well, it was quiet before someone showed up."

"Must'a really pissed you off," he says, tipping the bottle back.

God, Bucky was fucking annoying. But his cheeks are flushed pink and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbow.

"Why are you here?" you scowl.

"It's quiet," he replies, like just knows it'll make you mad. He's right.

"You’re in my space.”

“This isn’t your space.”

“I was here first.”

“Congrats. Want a medal?”

"Leave."

"No," he states, resolutely.

Bucky’s the human equivalent of a rock in your shoe—persistent, irritating, and impossible to ignore.

You feel face warm with irritation. "Where's your date gone?"

"Nat set me up, I've never met her before," he says, as though it’s the least surprising thing in the world. "Haven't seen her in thirty minutes."

"What, you couldn't brood your way into her pants?"

He gives you a dry, unimpressed look. "I don't kiss and tell."

"Doesn't look like you're doing any kissing at all," you scoff.

He tips the bottle back, takes a slow drink, then hands it to you. "You think about me kissing a lot?"

"I don't think about you."

He snorts, low and humorless, and you hate that it makes you want to laugh.

Bucky's fucking annoying. He's run his hand too many times through his hair, and there’s a smudge of something—lipstick, maybe—on his collar, and he's stretched out too damn much, like he's right at home.

He sends you a look. It makes you want to hide. You hate the way his eyes linger, like he’s waiting for you to flinch.

"Bottle," you demand.

He hands it over silently, crossing his arms over his chest, staring right ahead.

"How much longer?" he asks, checking his watch.

"You can leave."

"Sure can," he says, but doesn’t move.

"So leave."

"No."

You stare at him. "Find somewhere else to sit."

"No," he replies.

The minutes stretch. The bottle passes back and forth, your irritation simmering every time he exhales, every time he looks at you like he’s got something to say but doesn’t.

Bucky was fucking annoying. He smelt like expensive cologne and Tide detergent. His eyes are tired and his voice is scratchy. when he shifts beside you, it’s like he takes up more space than anyone has a right

He holds his hand out for the bottle. You give it to him.

"What are you gonna do at midnight?" he asks.

"Finish this bottle."

"What about after?"

"I'll get another one."

Bucky rolls his eyes. “That all?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” You glare at him, but he doesn’t flinch. He never does.

“Good."

His jaw’s tense, his eyes dark and sharp, and for a second, you think maybe he’s as pissed at himself as you are.

Silence falls. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not uncomfortable either. It’s just there. Like him.

"What’re you gonna do at midnight? Cry into whiskey?” you ask pointedly.

“I could, but you drank it all." He rolls his eyes.

There's a lot left. You give him the bottle. He takes it without a word, fingers brushing against yours.

Bucky takes a swig. “No one waiting for you at midnight?"

"Loads," you scoff. "Got a line out the damn door waiting to kiss me."

"Uh huh," be says.

There's silence.

You look at him, only for find him eyeing you.

“No one waiting for you?”

You scoff. “Why, you volunteering?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just studies you with those sharp, unreadable eyes. “Maybe.”

"Sure, Barnes, I'll kiss you at midnight," you drag sarcastically.

His face doesn't shift. Your brows furrow.

"Christ, you're bein' serious," you mumble.

He shrugs non committedly. "I could think of worse things to do."

"Wow," you say dryly. "Charming."

"Just sayin'."

With two minutes to go, you find that it's harder to look him in the eye. Your heart stumbles over itself, and you take another drink to cover the sudden heat crawling up your neck.

Either the whiskey was really starting to take hold, or the damn spirit of the damn season was getting to you.

"Look, I wasn't plannin' on asking anyone else," he says.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Do with that what you will," he says, taking a swig.

"What about your date?" you test.

"Don't think she remembers I exist."

You observe him. His shirt is unbuttoned, and his coat jacket lay on his lap. His bowtie also hung precariously from his neck.

Bucky was really fucking annoying. His hair is toussled and his stubble is rough and you're fairly certain his nose is sunburnt. You know this because you've been staring at him every day from the second he stepped foot in the compound, withdrawn and scowling.

It's late and you're tired of a lot of things and you're careless, so you stare too long. He catches you.

"What?" he bites.

"I'm assessing," you say, then add grudgingly, “You're not... terrible."

Which is a lie. He's beautiful. He's acutely aware of this on some days. Those days are harder for you.

He stares at you. "I can see why there's a line out the door for you."

"Go join them," you say. "I'll finally get some fuckin' quiet."

He exhales a short laugh. "No."

You can hear the crowd shouting numbers, but it’s distant, unimportant. Bucky’s eyes are on you, steady.

The crowd cheers.

Bucky's really fucking annoying.

But he kisses you like he's liked you all his life. Like he's real tired of waiting. It lingers just long enough to make your stomach flip when you realise he still tastes like whiskey.

When he pulls back, he doesn’t look smug. He doesn’t say anything at all. Just hands you the bottle and leans back like nothing happened.

His cheeks are red. His lips are swollen. He's never looked prettier in his damn life.

“Happy New Year,” you mutter, staring at the bottle because you can’t look at him.

“Sure,” he says, voice low, almost hoarse.

[messymoonmad]

*Walking into room*

Zeus! Hermes gave me some mol-

You look different.. did your tits get bigger?

[ARIS]

Zeusie : ... *is clearly a woman now* NO I just shaved.

@aris-not-ares

[en-chi-la-da]

OTHER THAN A VAMPIRE OBVS i think he would be a hamster! not bc i think that's what he would dress up as for halloween, but bc that's what i want him to dress up as for halloween :) lmao here's also a bonus doodle of him dressed as a bat <3 bc i think he's cute <3

[hymn-to-mercury]

✨🪐Astrology observations🪐✨

These observations are all based off my own personal experience and are mostly generic - don't take it to heart if you disagree <3

🪐 No one seems to fully understand how Aquarius Moons work, including Aquarius Moons themselves.

🪐 I love how heavy Mars influence shows up in people's physical appearance! I’ve always noticed that people with a lot of mars dominance in their chart have a big forehead and/or a widows peak, as well as rosy cheeks or a naturally reddish/pinkish undertone to their skin.

🪐 Undeveloped Virgo and Sagittarius placements absolutely do not give a fuck about your feelings. They can be extremely self centred I've noticed to almost a dangerous detriment.

🪐 A lot of people give Scorpio women the Mean Girl rep, but honestly I think that title should be lent to Virgo women too 😭 They tend to have this hangup about perfection, and I think when undeveloped it shows more as an aversion to anything 'weird' or against the status quo.

🪐 Cardinal Mars signs (that's Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn) reallyyyyy can't hide their dislike for things 😅 people, food, celebrities, whatever. If they don't announce it verbally then you can at least tell by their face lmao.

(I once had to put on my ~emergency socks~ when I was wearing heels on a night out, and every time someone came up to me to tell me how nice my outfit looked I would say thanks and then just not stop yapping about how the socks were not originally apart of the outfit 😭 I couldn't let people think I approved of socks and sandals alksjdgfsjdh)

🪐 Scorpio placements can dish it but can't take it. Cancer placements will sneakily dish it under the guise of a joke and then start crying if you try to dish it back.

🪐 People with Leo Moon tend to 'perform' their activism a lot. That's not to say that they don't practice what they preach, but I think when they do speak up their image has something to do with it

🪐 If you were born under a Mercury Retrograde it might feel like you were destined to be misunderstood no matter how well articulated you are 🙃 I don't think it's a problem with yourself as much as it is with the people you encounter through your life though. Your biggest 'ops' might be people who are very particular and specific about word choice - think Gemini and Virgo Placements (if you are a Gemini/Virgo yourself, this may manifest for you as harbouring some self-hatred or significant self-consciousness).

🪐 Pisces want very badly to be carefree, but a lot of the time they severely struggle getting over their need for outside validation. Being carefree is also a trait they might find attractive in other people.

[ronearoundblindly]

a kiss out of envy + ari 🤭

As promised, love, I give you...

frat boy!Ari Levinson x reader, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024 (yes, you read that correctly, and no, I don't want to talk about it. 🥲 It's been a rough year lol.)

Summary: You and Ari want each other for all the wrong reasons.

Warnings (regarding both parts of the story) for drinking and partying, language, shitty behavior from...yeah everyone is a bit of a mess in this ngl (it's college), vaguely taboo mutual pining, and not-really cheating/implied cheating (applies to multiple people). This is an angsty weird fluffy sorta romance with an ambiguous ending because no one can communicate to save their f**king lives...BUT HEY! KISSES. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for younger readers on my Light Masterlist, but not here! WC 3.9k

A/N: This is the first half from Reader's perspective.

College is…predictable.

You spent the first weeks of your freshman year faking self-assurance you didn’t actually feel because confidence is sexy—or whatever the saying is,—and if you had to start from scratch, you might as well start from a place you’re proud of.

You made friends. You went out with your roommate. You stayed out late with lots of people you don’t know, and you smiled. Holy shit, did you smile…

The attempt to ‘get out there’ brought constant stress; you wanted to define your social life right off the bat, but good people are hard to find.

You officially decided you were looking in the wrong place for any good people while at the Lawn Party three-quarters of the way through your first semester.

Finally, you’d tried. You pulled out all the stops. You wore the nicer, trendier clothes that you splurged on for events just like this. You put on extra makeup, brought some with you in your little purse to touch it up, and when you smiled in the mirror seconds before running out of the dorm with your roomie, you really were self-assured. You felt sexy.

Though the party was outdoors, you stuck with just the one layer of a light-colored, flowy top, something whimsical and fun, something less useful and more useless, but that’s the idea of fashion, you suppose.

When the breeze caught the fabric, you imagined you were in a movie, one of those scenes where the heroine is about to get noticed by the man of her dreams.

That is exactly the opposite of what happened.

You’d been there all of half an hour, your roommate off to get drinks (after you whined and waited and stalled, hoping to strike up some conversation without partaking in the shared, bad decisions of the swath of 18-22 year olds meandering across a grass field behind the sports complex), when you heard a really loud, shrill laugh behind you and turned.

A red Solo cup crumpled against your boob and beer exploded across your chest, drenching your shirt and dripping grossly down your stomach.

“Wooooah,” the big guy still gripping shredded plastic drawled, eyes glued to your see-through blouse as it clung to your front. “Sorry.”

The girl who laughed with him put her hand up to her mouth. “Oh. My god.” Yet she just laughed more.

That was it. That was the sum total acknowledgment of your destroyed outfit and evaporated dignity.

“Ari,” someone called, startling your assailant to look away with his unresponsive, blown pupils.

You noticed a few drops of beer on his letterman jacket, so, sure, in comparison to your entire front half being soaked, that seemed a fair-and-equal trade for your embarrassment.

Then he was gone, the laughing girl following the asshole, Ari, and his idiot friends as they recapped the football game from…whenever.

You left the party once the waistband of your jeans felt soggy.

You spent longer washing your beer-sponge bra in the dorm sink than you did on the lawn.

Now you know college is a fucking joke. That party became a defining moment in your social life. You realized men—no, boys—like Ari will never care about you as you really are, and finally, you’ve accepted that you don’t want them to.

They don’t deserve to know you.

Sophomore year. Women’s Studies. Of all the fucking classes…

On day one Ari plopped down in the desk next to you.

He plopped because his whole left leg was strapped into a thick brace that kept it straight and jutted out, unable to fit in the tiny seat. He’s so tall his thonged foot tapped at yours beneath your own chair.

In your utter frustration and irritation (since the professor had already started talking), you automatically muttered an apology—to Ari, like some pushover—and moved your legs.

“Not your fault,” the footballer softly chuckled, taking another long moment to settle his crutches on the floor.

Were there no other seats?

You sighed and knew, you just knew down in your bones, that this would be a long damn semester. You also had every faith, however, that this fuck-boy classmate would do just about anything to stay in the course dedicated to his favorite pastime: women.

Though that was an assumption, Ari proved you right, and it sucked.

It took all your innate kindness and compassion not to spit on him. Honestly, the guy is just…dumb. When your eyes wandered every so often, you always found him looking confused, but he wouldn’t ask questions. Several times you caught him sneaking peeks at your notes. You just couldn’t take it.

He fell asleep in one class!

With the course final mere weeks away, the OCD part of your brain kicked in and shoved several sheets of important points you’d written down into his lap before he fully woke up.

His brace was off by then, but Ari still moved slowly.

Again, he looked so confused.

“I expect them back on Wednesday,” you said with a tight jaw, barely restraining the choice names you’d wanted to call him.

You’d been conditioned so heavily to be nice that you smiled at him. A small smile, yeah, but you smiled at the coddled asshole who did not deserve to pass the class. You should have let him fail. You should have let him lean harder on that damn scholarship.

Football held his dead-weight up this long; what’s a few more years?

Nearly the end of your Senior year. Off-campus. You’ve tried.

Socializing is a hit-and-miss game, and you’re learning that sometimes the miss happens slowly, without failed plays, with all the effort you could muster.

“Look, if we’re not doing anything here, then I’m going to the party. You coming? The house is two blocks away.”

Your boyfriend, Billy, stands with his apartment door open and his roommates calling to him from down the hall. He’s frustrated, you know that, but his frustration doesn’t negate the uneasy twist in your gut you get whenever he tries to take things further than making out.

Billy is perfect on paper. He studies hard, has a job already lined up for summer, is driven to achieve…and desperately wants to get laid.

He’s cute, totally adequate in that department, yet still, you can’t force yourself to let him touch you any more than absolutely necessary. You two have excellent conversations, multiple shared interests, and you have no words to describe your lack of…want. It eats you up right along with that twisting aversion to fuck him—because it is specific to him.

You don’t lack for interest in men, even if these are still boys around you. You’re attracted. Kinda. You thought attraction could grow from affection, too, but it hasn’t in months with Billy. It doesn’t make you think he lacks in some way; you feel lacking.

Maybe you lack sympathy. Maybe you lack understanding. Maybe you are just as superficial as those slutty girls you hate, the ones sure to be at this party. Maybe Billy thinks those girls will rub off on you if you’re surrounded.

There’s no one thing, no quantifiable logic; he just doesn’t do it for you. That won’t change.

Your relationship has an expiration date, and you feel it approaching.

Unsurprisingly, you can’t bring yourself to be mean and tell him an outright ‘no.’ It’s rude to say ‘I’m not attracted to you,’ right? You’re a nice person, and it’s not nice to hurt someone who hasn’t done anything wrong.

The heavy pain in your belly grows dense, but still, nothing changes.

The compulsion to be kind and quiet continues as you follow him out, tucking your hands under your arms so Billy won’t try to touch you, but it doesn’t matter. He walks a few feet ahead to keep up with his friends on the walk down the road to the Kappa house.

The two-story, plantation-style home is packed to the gills, making it hard to maneuver past the front door, and of course, the first person you recognize is a brother of the fraternity living there.

Ari Levinson stands halfway up the staircase overlooking the crowd like a king surveying his domain, hair grown long and a beard worthy of his fifth-year undergrad status. He’s wearing a button-up linen shirt as if he just walked in from the beach, perpetually sun-kissed skin glowing, the carefree blue fabric matching his eyes.

Asshole.

He probably showed up to his own damn house, cocked his head, and smirked.

“Y’all having a party?” he probably asked, chill as fuck.

Idiot…probably. You don’t know what happened to him after Women’s Studies, but you can’t imagine he got better. Nothing changes.

His queen-for-the-day leans into his ear, her chest covered only by a red bandana and not much below that hidden by a miniskirt.

What sluts. Both of them. They deserve each other.

He’s so sexy though.

His smile is bright while he doesn’t spill the contents of his red Solo cup on anyone beneath him on the stairs. Seems his drunk coordination has improved at the very least.

“Babe,” you hear yelled close to your ear, “take it!”

Billy shoves one of two cups he’s carrying into your hands and shouts to follow him. He wants to play beer pong in one of back rooms downstairs, a room with no space to stand and watch. There are no chairs, but Billy asks if want to play with him. In no reality would he think you’d answer ‘yes’ in this chaos, but then again, he hasn’t noticed you won’t take a sip of the drink you didn’t see poured either. That’s not even a trusting him problem; for all you someone else made the drinks for Billy, and then you absolutely don’t trust it.

If he can’t manage to notice your reticence, why should Billy care if you’re comfortable?

You yell back that you’re going to find a seat somewhere. Billy gets whisked away for the next partnered game, and relief washes over you.

The only open spot that isn’t a squeeze beside couples going at it in public is a bench underneath the cutout of the staircase. You take a detour to dump your cup in the crowded kitchen’s sink and sit alone for a while, people-watching, wondering vaguely about the king and queen above you on the steps.

Parties…are not all that fun when you don’t feel safe, welcome, or seen. College is predictable this way.

You’re not sure how much time passes before a light blue linen shirt invades your view.

Looking to your right, you don’t see anyone paying attention, and looking to your left you see a sloped wall.

He’s looking directly at you.

“Thirsty?” Ari asks casually, offering the only cup he carries.

You wave it off with a polite ‘no, thank you,’ even though that should be sketchier than your boyfriend getting you a drink.

Ari takes a huge gulp and shuffles his broad body onto the too-short edge of the bench beside you. He seems careful not to touch you or invade your space, the barest graze of a short-sleeve cuff brushing the skin of your upper arm.

Again, Ari tilts the cup toward you. “Jack and Coke,” he shrugs, lifting his eyebrows, “mostly Coke though. I’ve been here a while. You’re basically late.”

You can’t help but blurt, “you live here.”

“That is an astute observation, smartie pants,” he adds with a proud smile. Those, you imagine, might be the biggest words the guy knows.

You also imagine he wouldn’t drug himself with anything,, and worst case, Ari’s already much drunker than you.

You pluck the half-full Solo from his hand, your pinky running the length of his forefinger in the process, knuckles hard beneath callused skin, and take a small sip. He’s right about one thing; you can’t smell or taste any alcohol.

His smile softens. Your pinky tingles even after you return his drink.

“Where’s whats-his-face?” Ari scans the hall. “Probably getting you something better, huh?”

You can’t help but frown and sigh as he takes another swig of soda, pink lips nearly hidden beneath the hair of his beard, but you remember they are quite plump. He only had stubble in class two years ago. You shouldn’t be thinking about what those lips might feel like. Hell, you shouldn’t be sharing a drink with anyone because that’s more intimate than anything you’ve enjoyed doing with Billy recently.

Billy is pushy and inexperienced. Every time he goes to touch you, it reminds you that he’s desperate for it, but…not in a flattering way. It’s difficult to describe.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” you throw out loudly, keeping your guess silent. Perhaps hugging the toilet bowl?

Though a simple question, Ari looks somewhere between giddy and chided while contemplating his answer. He’s so dumb, poor thing. “Flying with the pigs,” he settles on.

“What?”

He repeats himself, and then, seeing your confusion, he leans closer to clarify, “she doesn’t exist. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Ow, rough gig bandana girl. That’s a little harsh: being fobbed off mid-party. Although, you aren’t exactly replacing her. Ari is just talking to you. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s sitting beside you, only a little closer than Women’s Studies, sharing a sip of soda. That’s all.

“So, genius—”Ari elbows you gently, taking advantage to stay arm-to-arm this time “—how you been?”

You notice you’ve been shrinking against the wall and straighten as best you can without looking as if you’re pushing your boobs out.

“Fine. Just…busy with school work.”

Internally, you groan, hating to sound so boring and feeding into this idea you are nothing but a bookworm.

Ari swallows the last of his drink, and you watch as his adam’s apple bobs lewdly—at least, it should be considered lewd with how the motion leads your eye down to the matching dark chest hair peeking behind the shirt collar. He scrunches his nose when the bubbles hit the back of his palate.

“Good. You always seemed happy. Bet you’re top of our class.” He emphasizes the year because he should have graduated already. Originally, he was a year ahead, but then he took a red-shirt year while injured. Ari doesn’t appear to mind that’s something else you share.

You bite your lip and wonder if he’s baiting you. If there’s one thing you’ve heard consistently in your whole young adult life, it’s that you ‘look angry’ and could ‘benefit’ from smiling more.

“I’m…somewhere up there, yeah,” you allow.

He points over his other shoulder and shimmies the empty cup in front of him. “You want one? What’s your favorite?”

For the first time all night, what you want has been considered. Not only if you want a drink, but which one do you want. Such a small thing, and yet the twist in your stomach unfurls a little. The drink itself doesn’t matter; the thought does. That, and being comfortable near him.

“Whatever you’re having.”

Ari flashes that megawatt smile of his and says he’ll be back in a jiffy.

The true value of a beautiful idiot is you don’t have to be on edge. Your basic knowledge of any subject (save sports) would read as genius to a guy like him…which is also why it feels so unbelievable Ari’s choosing to hang in this corner with you. He’s friends with everyone. He could get anything from anybody here. It’s nice to be wanted, not needed.

He returns with two cups, one with a couple shots worth of Jack Daniels, the other full of CocaCola. He looks at you for approval, hesitating in case you want just plain soda, and then makes a huge show of his ‘mixing’ skills.

Absolute moron did not consider the carbonation exploding with every pour back and forth.

It’s a horrible mess of foam and splashing liquid. Both his hands are dripping and sticky, but you laugh freely by the end. You never thought you’d see the day Ari Levinson spilling a drink wouldn’t be triggering.

Not even a fleeting image of that ruined blouse crosses your mind while you weakly clinkthe plastic cups together. It’s the epitome of the college experience in your eyes. For once, you aren’t upset by that fact.

You keep smiling, wrinkling your nose at the fizz bursting on the back of your tongue. You can’t help it.

Ari is a happy drunk, and he starts talking, joking with you, tucked away in your own little bubble.

It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak.

He’s self-deprecating about the same, drunken party behavior that you have watched him participate in for years, and yet you dismiss that as nothing, normal even, and unconsciously nudge closer to Ari, your side flush with his as you bend to see the person he’s bad-mouthing now.

He seems to like the irony in that and chuckles as he says someone over there is getting sloppy, lifting his Solo to his mouth with a dainty pinky raised in defiance. He’s a goofball. You haven’t been so relaxed with someone in…months.

Both drinks are finished quickly, and Ari offers to grab more.

The warm buzz humming beneath your skin tells you ‘yes,’ but your higher brain function steadfastly puts a foot down.

“I shouldn’t,” you mutter, sounding undecided.

He shrugs. For whatever reason, you appreciate that Ari isn’t pushing for anything from you, but that’s exactly what makes you want more from him. He stacks the empty cups and mentions walking you home. He could use some fresh air, he says.

“I should find Billy…”

Ari rolls his shoulders and thinks, his eyes follow suit, scraping his peripheral vision for an alternative that never presents. He stands up, arms akimbo, dramatically squinting to ‘think’ harder.

“He was wearing that red ball cap, right?”

“What?” You’ve never seen your boyfriend don a hat once but suddenly remember the pong partner who pulled him over. “No, that’s Leo,” you scream over the noise now that Ari is standing a few paces away. “Billy’s in, like, a neutral t-shirt.”

Ari smirks, scanning. “One beige Billy, coming up!”

Off he darts into the crowd, much faster than you’ve ever seen a drunk man move, and you skitter behind, realizing Ari stops at the kitchen only when you slam into his back.

He throws the empty cups into the trash and turns to the sink, washing his hands with dish soap, drying them on his shirt, leaving darker streaks of blue.

“Okay, not sticky,” Ari beams, “so now we go.”

Easily, naturally, his hand scoops up yours, and Ari leads you deftly through the throng.

He’s holding your hand. It’s damp and rough and cool and warm all at once. And you grasp it. You’re holding his hand back.

Though tall enough to see over most heads, Ari takes a good long while to notice everyone because they keep moving about. 

Pointing with your still-joined hands, you shout to check the beer pong room, but no Billy.

You two amble through the entire lower floor, stopped several times by people greeting Ari, and he introduces you automatically. You hope none of these other drunk frat boys remembers seeing you hold his hand while asking where your damn boyfriend is.

Without fail, each friend asks if you two are together, and to his credit, Ari quickly changes to “have you seen a guy…” and describes Billy.

“Dunno, man. Check upstairs?”

Ari thanks them and glances at you, a look of defeat creasing his forehead.

He drums his free fingers on the banister. He hesitates.

“Wait here?” he offers but drops your hand and doesn’t pause for your reply.

Using a football drill tactic, Ari bolts expertly up the stairs while you get waylaid by some girls holding up a selfie-stick to make a video. They bitch at the angle, ignoring you, and have to reshoot. You can’t get past.

Yelling.

Suddenly, there’s lots of yelling coming from the packed second floor and a door slams. Half the people in the stairway and hall look up.

More crashing and thudding noises ring out.

With everyone frozen, you shove your way through.

“What the fuck,” you hear just as some guy backs away, almost knocking you down. “Who the hell do you think you are, man?”

Your legs take you inside though your heart lodges in your throat.

Ari’s got Billy pinned over a wrecked desk on the other side of the room while the girl with the bandana top stands by a bed, pulling down her mini skirt. She snaps for Ari to mind his own business, and Ari immediately shoots a glare at her over his shoulder, keeping Billy pinned beneath him.

“Beks, for fuck’s sake,” Ari starts, but quickly, the guy who pushed you in the hall cusses her out louder than anyone else.

“Serves you right for getting back with Erin,” Bandana Girl snaps.

“Eat shit, Rebekah. You don’t actually care!”

What…is going on? These people are nuts.

At least four more bodies squeeze through the door, all looking blazing-mad while you get pushed farther into the suffocating room. You’re bewildered and overwhelmed.

Blocker Guy lunges forward and shoves Ari off of Billy.

Your hands are up, claiming space to breathe, but there’s way too much going on. No one—not even you—can hear your voice crying to be let out.

Funny thing is, you aren’t crying for Billy to help you. Only after you yell for Ari does your brain process that your boyfriend’s fly is down, his jeans unbuttoned, too.

A large, rough hand grabs your wrist and yanks you to the door, barreling you both through the crowd to another room down the hall. It’s surreal to see the group descend on the fight like moths to a flame, drawn to watch what horrible thing these students will do next.

Ari man-handles you inside without hitting a light switch. It’s pitch black, but the closed door at your back muffles only a fraction of the commotion.

From the other side, you hear Billy calling your name, but Ari’s soft, panting breath steals your focus as it gusts across your neck.

His lips shift close to your ear.

“Don’t do it, smartie,” he whispers. “Leave him.”

The stale smell of beer wafts forward when you lean farther into that letterman jacket Ari keeps prominently hung. You feel the ribs of the cuffs against your bare arms until, suddenly, it’s the ridges of Ari’s rough fingers ghosting over your skin.

If Billy’s still screaming, you can’t tell. Your heart thunders in your chest as the hot breath rolling over you moves up your neck and over your jaw.

He’s right there.

He’s right there. He’s drunk. He’s stupid. He doesn’t matter. You don’t matter to him. It’ll never work and it doesn’t have to. This could be so simple.

You envy how easy this is for him, always another girl around the corner, in the next room, who will want him, but you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about wanting to use him. He’s right there, willingly, single or not, sober or not, and so you grip the soft linen of his shirt collar and tug him straight to you.

It doesn’t matter how sloppy you are, how shy or how forceful you get, because you live like him in this moment.

Ari doesn’t care about anything. Self-assured. Confident. Sexy. Popular. He doesn’t have to care.

Now, neither do you.

[Next Part]

⬅️ Steve Rogers and a kiss where it hurts

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Are u able to do how certain Venus signs act when the like someone??

I hope u mums doing well now and ur car is doing ok no rush tho I understand 😊

Hey, my mum and car are doing okay and thank you for your patience because you requested this a VERY long time ago.

Disclaimer: This is based on traditional astrology and for delusional purpose only. Do not take this seriously.

Also someone's Moon Sign will also have an influence in how they show their affection for you so you're better off looking at both Moon AND Venus signs.

The Rizz Of Each Venus Sign:

Aries Venus:

These people yearn with PASSION and they're one of the easiest to figure out if they like you. You can just SEE it in their gaze when they're in your presence. Agreeable. Will instantly respond to messages and more likely to confess their feelings rather quickly.

Jeongin from Stray Kids is an Aries Venus and this manifests in the EXCITEMENT he has around his members and how he beams at them on the stage or when in his ending-ment when he talks to Stays.

Taurus Venus:

Will absolutely scrutinise and discover what you like and are interested in understanding the SMALLEST of details about you. Will also pay attention to your body language and figure out what makes you comfortable.

A great example of a Taurus Venus in action was when Yunho had a fancall with Vanessa and noticed how her make-up style changed and asked if she moved because her background changed.

Gemini Venus:

They love to play games and play cat and mouse. The type to offer you a beautiful compliment and then dip because they want you to think about them. Will ask you personal questions about your life.

Cancer Venus:

A healing presence will envelop you with the love of a Cancer Venus. Provide you with comfort and warmth. Will deliberately radiate an energy of homeliness so you feel safe in being vulnerable and expressing your deepest thoughts.

Leo Venus:

They just become the biggest simps and end up fawning and gushing over you. Will find any excuse to spend time with you. May make compliments about your hair and make-up and be extra touchy and giggly.

San from Ateez is a Leo Venus and he is so Leo Venus coded with how he is so attentive towards Atiny's. You can feel the care in his gaze and presence.

Virgo Venus:

The type to love quietly but unconditionally and it might take you awhile for you to realise they like you. Will give you gifts or do minor tasks for you and then act like it's nothing even though you know they don't do this for anyone else.

Mingi from Ateez and Changbin from Stray Kids both have a Virgo Venus and Mingi creates crystal bracelets and Changbin is always bringing food to his members.

Libra Venus:

Might want to take lots of photos of you or want to know about your artistic abilities. People with a Libra Venus are typically VERY physically affectionate so lots of hugging, petting, smiling (consensually) etc.

TEASING is a huge thing as well!!! Others might think you're bullying each other but you both know the humour you share is special between you two.

Han, Felix, Seungmin from Stray Kids and Wooyoung from Ateez are all Libra Venuses and massively tease and play around with their members but it's done so in a way that's harmless and cute.

Scorpio Venus:

Will pine for months before even making a move on you. Quality time. It's difficult to define how a Scorpio Venus shows their interest because you can just FEEL it and SEE it with how they interact with you. Heated gazes. Sudden bouts of confession. And of course, if they get jealous and possessive.

Bang Chan, Lee Know, Hongjoong and Jongho all have their Venus in Scorpio and a lot of their admiration is non-verbal, you can just see the way their eyes sparkle when they talk about something/someone they adore.

(I'm also biased b/c my Pisces Venus loves my Scorpio venus ppl, y'all get what it means to love someone with your entire body and soul).

Sagittarius Venus:

These people are CHEEKY with their affection and can become overly flirtatious and then avoidant within minutes of knowing you. Might put more effort into their appearance when they're around you and try to act non-chalant with their affection (though it gets pretty obvious at times).

Capricorn Venus:

Will prioritise and give advice over your health and well-being. Classic tsundere vibes with affection and if they like you and you ask them for a favour...they might complain about it before rolling their eyes and doing it for you anyway.

Minghao from SVT is a classic example of a Capricorn Venus. Carats always ask him to do certain Tiktok dances and he says he won't do it but then he rolls his eyes and ends up doing them anyway.

Aquarius Venus:

It's difficult because they treat their romantic partners and their friends in a similar manner BUT I've noticed they show their care for you by showing up and being there for you in your darkest of moments. Will send cute memes and gifs to you online. Might check in on a regular basis for no obvious reason.

Park Seonghwa from Ateez and DK from SVT both have a Venus in Aquarius and they are dedicated to their lives and HOBBIES! They love showing off their hobbies to Atiny's and Carats.

Pisces Venus:

I am a Pisces Venus and let me tell you the LIMERENCE we experience!!! Will ask questions about your personal life and remember certain details about you. Will do all they can to make you feel extra special and a top priority.

Hyunjin from Stray Kids is a Pisces Venus and I've noticed he always tries his best to make Stays and his members as comfortable as possible around him.

Let me know if this resonates and if there's anything else I should include or know about!

[sun4ki]

Dom Himeko..... dom Himeko for the poor... spare dom Himeko...??? Himecock... I HUNGER...

Himecock huh…?

Seeing your discord messages to me.. im guessing this is Futa or Tfem!Himeko…

Anyways yes.

you’re lucky i feel VERY generous to you today, Ari…

So im giving you atleast a lil drabble on Himecock :3

Im not sure What kind of kinks Himeko would have tbh, thats for future me to decide

Anyways, speaking of Himecock, i bet you would be thinking she’s average size.. Right…?

WRONG.

Haha imagine the first time you had sesbian lex you would pull down her pants only for her cock to just spring out, the moist wet tip tapping your forehead LMFAO

Augsh you would also have a hard time taking her whole length in your mouth that you’d gag alot, causing a TON of vibrations, adding pleasure to which Himeko would finish earlier than usual

“Cc-cumming.. dear im-.. c-cumming..!” A gasp escaping Himeko’s lips while her hand grabbing a fist full of your hair, Hime would start fucking your face at this point. Needing more than just one orgasm— it hurts.. but not that you would complain anyways.

Oh and the way she would fuck you from behind,

jesus christ.

Himeko always would cover your mouth as she fucks you especially if you’re in the express! No one wants to see what the navigator does with their lover at night when they’re all needy and horny right? ;)

But even so, how can you NOT scream?? The way her cock could stretch you wide open, the tip poking your core with every thrust.

I know for a fact that Himeko would try to go gentle, but how could she when she sees a bulge on your stomach due to her cock able to reach THIS deep inside you?

By the end of all that, the feeling would linger for several minutes.. the feeling of her cock stretching you wide was definitely enough to make you feel overwhelmed. In a good and pleasurable way atleast

[navybrat817]

Bucky may be the neighbor who swims nude, but I feel like Ari would do the same. 😂

Bucky swims naked when he knows you're close by, nonnie. 😉 He likes to give you a show and wants you to come over and join him.

But Ari is very much that neighbor who hardly ever wears a shirt.

Getting the mail. Mowing his lawn. Just walking around. Man doesn't wear a shirt. Does he own one? He proves to you that he does when you catch him wearing one, but the thing still isn't buttoned. So you get a glimpse of his chest and abs and you may mumble to yourself that it's slut behavior because why else would he walk around like that? All. The. Time?

And, listen, Bucky gets that slut behavior because he walks around in sweatpants that leave nothing to the imagination and smirks when he catches you looking because he loves having your attention. And, of course, you look. You know what's packing and you want to feel him again.

And Steve?

Tiddies in those smedium shirts, his "poor" tenant wonders how the fabric doesn't rip. The man is smart and has money. Why can't he buy a shirt that fits? Or pants for that matter? Why do you want to bite his ass?

Harlots. All of them.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[aris-has-a-paracosm]

30? 👉👈

30. A sketch just for fun!

For you, my anon friend, I have Devious Scheming and Utter Confusion :3

[arieslost]

personally since I want to take a nice bite outta oscar (and you do too)

what about an oscar x gf!reader who just constantly bites him, not hard enough to leave a mark (thats only in bed) but just a little chomp

like he has an arm around her shoulder while talking to Lando and she just turns her head and *chomp*

lord knows i wanna give that man a nice little monch. just a little 🤏🏻 little bit

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

chomp | op81

something about oscar unlocked the habit within you. he’s just so… yummy. all the time. so one day you acted on the urge to bite him. you did it gently, just barely sinking your teeth into the skin covering the taunt muscle of his bicep when you were cuddled up together in bed. he liked it; encouraged it even, so you never really looked back.

instead of “pinch me,” he soon adopted the phrase “bite me” in its place. it was just an affectionate thing that you did when your feelings for him became so overwhelming words failed you. it happens more often than not— just looking at him and knowing he’s yours is enough to render you speechless.

his instant enjoyment of your gentle bites had you dismissing the behavior as normal quickly, so it now comes as a surprise to you when other people have a visceral reaction to it.

you never pay much mind to what people say on social media, particularly twitter, but almost every day you’re greeted with the sight of you being caught biting oscar and hundreds of people asking what your problem is. it mostly stemmed from the one time that oscar asked (more like begged) you to leave a mark in the throes of a passion-charged moment that happened the night before qualifying and thus it was clear as day to everyone in the paddock the next morning.

you were usually careful to bite parts of him that were almost always concealed. his thighs, his hips, his shoulders, the junction between his shoulder and neck. but he’d been adamant that you bite his neck and leave a mark, and who were you to tell him no? so the whole world ended up becoming privy to your little habit. but oscar never gave anyone the time of day when asked about it, so it never crossed your mind to stop.

now, lando had been the very first to tease him about that infamous mark on his neck, but he’d never been there to see it happen. until today.

oscar had insisted that you join him while he and lando were waiting to be called in for a race debrief, with the promise that he’d take you out for dinner afterwards. you’re always happy to spend extra time with your boyfriend, of course, so you were more than happy to agree.

except lando has a special talent for boring you out of your mind with extremely technical talk. and he loves to talk. you need something to do in order to not implode from boredom, and oscar’s arm is right there, wrapped around your shoulders, so you turn your head and lightly bite the thin skin of his wrist.

the sudden silence is deafening as lando stops talking in the middle of his sentence.

“i thought that was just a weird rumor. you actually bite him?” lando asks.

“um, yeah,” you reply slowly. “so?”

“got a problem with my girlfriend, mate?” you can feel the muscles of your boyfriend’s arm flexing around you as he tenses up a little.

“nope. no. not at all,” his teammate is quick to respond, hand reaching back to scratch his neck. “carry on. i’ll just act like i’m not here.”

so you do, biting him a little harder as a silent chill out. he just kisses your temple, stifling his laughter.

when it’s finally time for their meeting, you’ve traveled from oscar’s wrist all the way up to the inside of his elbow, grazing your teeth along his skin and inhaling his addictive scent. you’d happily do this for hours, and you pout when he separates himself from you.

as an apology, he leaves you with a parting whisper of, “you’re gonna bite me harder than that tonight, right?” that has your whole body heating up.

word count: 638

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: hope u enjoyed this <3 definitely not self indulgent for myself and venus at all!!!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo @ahgase99 @ferrarisfailedstrats @levidazai @brune77e

[shurisneakers]

HIII, HOW ARE YOU

I was thinking if you could write Bucky's version of "Who did this to you" 🥰 Also, I love you writing so much! The way you describe things makes it so easy for me to imagine the scenes

a/n: hello my love! thank you for sending this in, I hope you like it<3

this is part of misery loves company but is just a stand alone fic. you don't need to read anything before this

warnings: blood and hurt, implications of violence and killin klg, hurt comfort, swearing

The longer you spend in this business, the more sleep feels like a favor the universe begrudgingly grants. Rest without nightmares is a luxury, and your salary simply did not budget for it.

So when it’s 3 a.m., and someone slips into your room without a word, you’re already awake before the light in your bathroom flickers on.

You hear the faint shuffle of movement, the sound of cabinets opening and closing. His silhouette moves inside, quiet and deliberate.

There’s no urgency to it, no noise loud enough to wake anyone else. He knows better than that. He just doesn’t know better than to pick your bathroom to raid.

Sighing, you push off the bed and head toward the bathroom.

The door creaks when you nudge it open, and he doesn’t even flinch. He’s still bent over the sink, head in your cabinet, his shoulders slumped like he’s half-asleep himself.

“Go to bed,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, not bothering to look at you.

“Sure, right after you get the fuck out of my bathroom," you reply, leaning against the doorframe. “You know there’s one in your room, right? Or did you get lost again?”

“Crazy. Here I was, thinking I’d take the scenic route,” he deadpans, pulling out a bottle and squinting at the label. “Must’ve missed my bathroom. Maybe it’s hiding behind a bookshelf or something.”

You roll your eyes and press a hand to his shoulder, shoving him aside as you rifle through the cabinet yourself. “Move. You’re just making a mess.”

Bucky doesn’t protest, just leans back against the wall with a sigh, watching as you shove aside bottles and boxes. When you finally find the first-aid kit, you shove past him with more force than necessary.

“Sit down.”

To your surprise, he obeys, perching on the edge of the bathtub. His silence almost irritates you more than his usual backtalk.

You crouch in front of him, ignoring the way his gaze follows your every movement as you pull out antiseptic wipes and gauze. You don’t want to look at him yet. You don’t need to see his face to know he looks like hell.

But when you finally glance up, it’s still worse than you expected.

If you hadn’t trained yourself to stay composed in the worst situations, your breath might’ve hitched. His lip is split, an eye swollen shut, cuts scattered across his face, and a dark trail of dried blood streaks from his nose to his jaw. The faintest smudge of crimson still lingers on his temple.

"What?" his voice comes out sharper, like he's testing you to see your reaction.

He sits too stiffly for it to just be his face—there are ribs involved, at the very least.

You don't grace him with a reply.

"I'm fine," he says, as if that’s enough to wave away the mess of him.

“Didn’t ask,” you reply flatly, though your jaw tightens.

“Did someone teach you how to be this kind, or is it a God-given talent?” he mutters dryly.

You don’t respond, ripping open a packet of antiseptic wipes and crouching in front of him.

“How’d your day go?” he drawls, voice flat but testing.

“We don’t have to do this.”

“God, the hospitality,” he drags, voice dry and cracked. "For a second there, I was worried bleeding out in your bathroom might make you care.”

“So fuckin' dramatic,” you breathe, swiping a wipe across his busted lip with a gentleness you hate admitting to. “You’re not bleeding out. And I don’t care."

The silence stretches as you clean him up. He doesn’t flinch—not at the antiseptic or the sting of your touch—but you notice his sharp intake of breath when you press a little harder on his ribs.

“Who did this?” you ask lowly, your tone sharp without meaning to be.

He exhales through his nose, something like a grunt. “Why? You plannin' on punching them for me?”

"If that'll keep you out of my damn bathroom at night."

His gaze flickers to you, sharp and unyielding, but you refuse to meet it, focusing instead on wiping the blood crusted beneath his nose.

Finally, he mumbles, “Doesn’t matter. Kids are safe."

“Good,” you say, but the word sticks in your throat like glass.

When you glance up, his good eye is already on you, his gaze sharper than it has any right to be. His breathing is steady, heavier than usual but not alarming. Whatever he’s looking for, you don’t know, but it’s enough to make you shift uncomfortably.

“I’m fine,” he repeats, softer this time, almost like he’s trying to convince you.

“Didn’t ask,” you mutter, though your hand slows for a fraction of a second before you move on to the next cut.

His lip quirks at that, the ghost of a smile. “Sure. Noticed."

When you move to dab at the cut above his brow, something in his hair catches your eye. Your fingers brush against it, and you pull the strand closer for inspection

That’s when you notice it—the small braid in his hair, crooked and messy, like it was done by clumsy hands.

You reach out before you can think better of it, fingers tugging gently at the braid.

"Who did this to you?” you ask again, this time biting back a smile.

“Don’t,” he mutters, ducking his head to pull away, but your hand finds his neck, stilling him. His skin grows warm under your hand.

“One of the kids?” you press, voice softer now.

He clears his throat, his cheeks flushing faintly. “The jet was too dark. They needed a distraction.” He pauses, as though considering how much to share. “Missed that one, I guess.”

Your thumb brushes his jaw as you inspect the braid, lingering a little too long. “Shame. It makes you look less hideous.”

Bucky huffs, more exasperated than offended. “You’re shit out of luck, then. Gotta put up with this mug as it is.”

You realize you’ve been staring too long when his eyes flick to yours. Clearing your throat, you drop your hands and reach for another wipe.

He leans back slightly, his gaze dragging over you. “You look like you’re about to punch someone.”

“Surprised there’s anyone left to punch.”

“There isn’t,” he replies breezily, though the weight of his words hangs in the air.

“Good, I don't have to waste my time cleaning up after you.” You swipe the antiseptic across his lip, slower this time, and your fingers linger a fraction longer than they should.

You don’t miss the way his gaze drops to your hands as you tear off another wipe, the way his jaw tightens when your fingers brush against his skin again.

“You’re happy you don’t get to punch anyone?” he asks, “Careful, or I might start thinking you care.”

You don’t answer, not with words. Instead, you press the antiseptic down just hard enough to make him wince.

Bucky hisses, but his lips twitch, and you hate how much you want to smile back.

Instead, you pack away the first aid kit and push it into his lap.

“Go to sleep,” you mutter, turning away.

“Sure thing,” he says, but when you glance back, he’s still sitting there, watching you like he’s not quite ready to leave.

Like maybe you don’t want him to.

"C'mon," you say quietly. "It's late."

He finally pushes himself off the tub, and drags himself silently to your bed.

[mossymandibles]

Wanted to draw some Ari after seeing her pop up in my notes again and I realized I haven’t shared anything of her updated backstory either sooo

Ari grew up in the Myce equivalent of a sort of religious gated community/ parish under the Ladder’s Jurisdiction. Her father owned a small cattle ranch and she worked on it with him and her brother. Although she’s gained a lot of skills and strength growing up on the farm, there were a lot of restrictions for her. She was forced to grind down her horns all the time, hiding them within her hair.

The parish she grew up in was a series of small isles, connected by canals. The sea walls prevented anything from getting in or out without close inspection from the Necrocorps sentries stationed around the canal gates. From the top of the revetments, Ari could see the Drifting Lights on the horizon; the floating metropolis of the Ladder and where most of their revenue came from selling fungal fibers and leatherwork.

However, Ari found that one of the barriers around the southern beaches of the ranch was faulty during a storm. With growing unrest from the cattle, something had been let inside.

I really need to design animals for husbandry 😅 need some good ungulates.

Also here’s some of her all snazzed up. I like both versions but I feel like the right one is more her personal style if she was going to a show with Heidi or something. With boots like that though she’d end up being like 6’9” lol

Anyway working with Sylvaine has sort of challenged her a bit but opened a lot of veterinary avenues for her. She finds it disturbing but shows interest in what she calls ‘flesh anatomy’ although it’s intensely messier to her compared to fungal anatomy (imagine a doctor that’s uncomfortable with blood). Sylvaine would argue that they’re virtually the same. She also lets Ari raise some animals and plants on the estate because she still enjoys her farm work. It’s mostly for food supplies, or food for Nimbus. She even continues doing fiber-crafts as a hobby. She’s currently working on giant sweaters for Kraw and Durja.

She also has intense thalassophobia, but Kraw and Heidi working with her on it.

[trippinsorrows]

How would Solana initiate sexy time with her husband? 🤭 cause we already know Roman has no problem doing it, and he's not afraid of coming out too strong 🥵 in the best way.... but what about my girl, once she gets the groove of things and plans on seducing him

roman knows his wife. knows her well. like the back of his hand. that's why he knows exactly what she wants before she even asks.

he's in his office, sitting at his desk when she walks in, wearing one of those fucking short, skimpy dresses that leaves nothing to the imagination. he loves them on her, but he loves them even more off her.

she gives him a small smile. "got the girls down."

it's a bit of a trial run they're doing. seeing if they can alternate bedtime duties, as lina and leya have fallen into a routine of wanting both of them present before falling asleep.

which is fine, except for when roman has to be out of town for business. or even when he can't make it home until late. thus, them trying out this new solo turn taking endeavor.

"how were they?"

she closes the door behind her, roman noticing the way she locks it as well. "lina was okayish. leya was the hardest."

he nods. makes sense. leya is the more sentimental of the two. sensitive, almost. she required a higher level of assurance than her sister.

"but they're sleep?"

solana nods, making her way over to him, her steps slow, almost hesitant, as if she's waiting for him to send her way.

like that would ever fucking happen.

"are you....busy?"

that smirk returns on his handsome face as he rolls back the chair. roman spreads his legs, again noticing the way her eyes dart to his crotch. the smirk deepens.

he motions her over with his index finger. "never too busy for you."

his eyes stay glued to her breast, her areolas already peppered against the thin material of her dress.

sitting on his lap at a sideways angle, roman shifts her so that her back is pressed up against his chest. she releases a shaky breath. "roman....."

"you wanna tell me the real reason you came in here?" he teases his tongue along the shell of her ear. "why you locked the door?" he moves one big hand to the side of her thigh, slowly sliding up her dress. "hmm?"

her eyes flutter shut, roman groaning as she adjusts herself on top of him, most likely due to the growing erection pressing against that juicy, fat ass of hers. "ro, you.....you know why....."

he smiles, pressing his lips to her temple before playing coy. "no, i don't." she gasps when he slides his hand between her thighs. "tell me."

a moan leaves her pretty mouth, edging him on even more as he circles his finger across her skin, gradually moving closer and closer to her cunt that he'd bet any money is already nice and wet.

just for him.

"roman, please....."

he shakes his head, his other hand moving to her chest. he easily slides his hand through the top of her dress, gently squeezing her breast.

she throws her head back, eyes still closed, roman granted a front row seat to one of the seven world wonders. she's inhumanly beautiful when she's so wanton and needy for him like this.

he shakes his head, one thumb peppering across her nipple, the other ghosting over the cotton of her underwear. "you gotta tell me first, baby......" he's a compassionate man. caring. it's why he allows his fingers to slip past the seam of her underwear, where he's met with the expected wetness that's nearly dripping.

he makes a sound, licking hips lips. her desire for him has to be about what and what with his right now for her. he'd give anything to have his face buried in her sweet cunt, and he just might.

as soon as she fulfills his one request.

"just say it, sol," he glides his fingers across her wet, velvety folds, solana gripping his wrist, writhing atop him. an effort to get him inside of her, to stop this torture. "say what you want papi to do to his sweet girl."

he's certain she almost came right then and there. the combination of his words, the play of his fingers with her nipples and her cunt resulting in borderline overstimulation.

but, it's effective.

eyes open, mouth ajar, panting with burning need, he matches her glazed eyes. "i want you to eat my pussy and f-fuck me, papi."

and not a man on this earth has ever been as blessed as him in this moment. roman practically growls, yanking back his hands and hiking her on her waist before he lays her down on his desk.

"you only have to ask once, amore mio....."

--------

not exactly what you asked for but a lil something! lol

[taeiris]

That piece you just posted, of byler, truly divine. Thank you so much for giving the tag life with that one! It's so detailed, how long did it take to complete cuz st need to hire you to do a byler comic or something ASAP!

May you always get your favorite food at the most cozyest time to just relax

EHEHEH thank you im so happy you guys are enjoying it!! it took me so long😭 i started it during finals around late nov-early dec which was a horrible idea cause all i wanted to do was work on that while i had the responsibility of my college classes so i just worked on all the lineart and then focused on finishing the semester for me to work on it again

but then i got a job😭 so i was coming home tired only wanting to play marvel rivals so that further delayed me finishing it until now lmfao

the only motivation for me making this comic was that last panel, i just wanted to draw that but bc im insane and love putting lore into everything i had to make it into a comic.

here’s the storyboard!!!

and heres my inspo for the last panel

my girl layla el faouly looking up at my other girl marc spector bc they are EVERYTHING TO ME

also wanted to note but forgot; i wanted to also kinda showcase will’s survival instincts once hes in the UD + mike is in danger. we all talk about protective mike but forget how selfless and protective will also is, having survived the UD at 12 years old for a whole week alone.

no matter what is happening in their relationship, he will always protect mike in any way he can. once he sensed the demodog, he quickly entered survival mode and found a way to protect himself and mike’s clumsy ass

anyways thats my tangent im really happy the comic is getting love everywhere after the sweat i put into it😭♥️

[ronearoundblindly]

What are you thoughts on the Cevans characters (+ Bucky hehe) on giving & receiving oral? Who’s more into what, like which role do they prefer. Are any of them not into it at all? Do any of them like it more than actual sex?

Your takes on the Cevans characters are always so accurate 🥰🎀 Luv your blog <3

Ohhhhhh nessie. So spicy. So 😙🤌. Let's GO!

Warnings for, yeah, discussion of oral (both m and f receiving) with some references to other sexual acts for comparison, etc. We got there this time, gang, like all the way to hell...

Andy Barber

Into both but not his fave. Since Andy wasn't originally in my list of characters (and thus never got a favorite sex position), I'll tell you now that Mr. Barber is more of a face-to-face and hands-on lover. He enjoys a blowjob, sure, and he's by no means against going down on you, but his hands like to grope and wander more than those allow.

Ari Levinson

Really into both. Wow, just, really really into both. Can't say he enjoys it "more" than actual sex, but ohhh fuck it's close. Ari is a roar-as-he-comes-down-your-throat type of guy. He definitely is sloppy on you, not afraid to soak his beard before you even peak. I stand by my headcanon that Ari doesn't like his hair pulled though. He understands it'll happen sometimes, but he will move if you keep tugging hard. Much happier if you leave scratches across his shoulders instead.

Also, Ari strikes me as a man who would enjoy road head or pull over to go down on you if he's horny or bored or just because. I don't have a reason for that, but it's true. The end.

Curtis Everett

He's a giver 100%. Curtis isn't *against* getting a blowjob, but he can't enjoy it much if you aren't really into giving, too.

Maybe TMI, idk, but I also get the impression that Curtis really adds a lot of his tongue thrusting into you during the act. No reasoning, just vibes. He wants to actually fuck you with his face.

Jake Jensen

Whiny and needs practice but he appreciates both ways. Jake needs you to verbally tell him what to do and what feels good, so for a while at least, some of the fun is taken away from that. He also needs the practice not blowing his load about 30 seconds after your lips get on him. That visual--you kneeling or bent over trying to fit him in your mouth--just...does him in so fast.

Jimmy Dobyne

Nope, not really. Surprisingly, he has the skill to make you come without having to do it a lot, but Jimmy still crawls up under your skirt rarely. It's like The Best present when he does. Like, who the fuck did he practice this on to the point of expertise??? Makes no sense, but I'm telling you, Jimmy is the secret munch of the bunch. He'll let you go down on him, but he won't be the one to suggest it. That's purely up to you.

Johnny Storm

Eh--little here, little there. He enjoys the riskiness of oral in semi-public places more than p-in-v sex. Johnny is DTF always...mostly, so nothing is off the table...and he's fine being on the table, just for reference.

Lloyd Hansen

Lloyd is more of a receiver and a giant tease for going down on you. He talks a good game, and you'd think with the mustache that he's practically been groomed to be sat on. However, Lloyd likes to be smug as hell, telling you he'll take care of you but he just needs to unwind after his day. He doesn't really intend to put in much effort because Lloyd is good enough with his fingers and dick. He gets away with avoiding it.

James Mace

Similar to Andy for different reasons: he's into both but neither is his fave. Mace likes a lot of things a little bit. Every position is on rotation. He doesn't want you to get bored, or worse, to be boring, so Mace plays around constantly. Yes, you two still fuck in the bedroom 'the most,' but that's not from lack of other variety.

Ransom Drysdale

Mostly a receiver but in a less controlling way than Lloyd. He uses his tongue as torture on you, i.e. Ran has no intention of bringing you to climax and he wants for you to beg. He wants you to prefer fucking him. Ransom is too lazy for this to be a regular thing he has to do.

Now, again, don't ask me why but I truly believe Ran gets a kick out of choking you on his dick. There's a distinction here, though, because Lloyd enjoys watching you struggle to take him in your mouth while Ransom purposefully thrusts to choke you. It's not prolonged. It's just a kink he likes.

Steve Rogers

Will eat you out at the drop of a hat but thinks a blowjob is degrading to you. Steve has a very traditional notion of respect for the people he loves...and, no, he doesn't see the hypocrisy in that. His excuse is that he likes his mouth all over you, down there no different than anywhere else 🤷🏻‍♀️.

Bucky Barnes

Oh, fuck yeah.

What's there to expand on? Bucky 100% loves to watch you worship his body and loves to worship yours. This dude may have some social and professional hangups, but sex hasn't changed much since the '30s. Anatomy (more or less) is anatomy, and at least all of his romance bits are the same.

Does he prefer giving or receiving? It's pretty equal. You both go gaga over the other dressing up fancy...or dressing down...or when you're dressing...or, ya know, not dressed. Basically, it's just a 'yes.'

Thank you for asking!

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