#like i know that it changes certain aspects of his character

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

y'all remember that erotic but chilling short story where armand tells louis about feeding on people and it's like super horny in that anne rice way. well i had a copy of it somewhere, but i cannot find it. i don't remember what the name was. anyone out there got a link?

[patchwork-crow-writes]

82 - Unreal

Based on this amazing artwork by @turochamp - thanks for the inspiration!

Welcome back, my dear friend, it's wonderful to see you again! I hope that everything here is to your liking - I've worked very hard to make sure my kingdom is as clean and tidy as possible!

Oh, but... where are you going? What are you... ah! It m-might not be such a good idea to, um, try looking over there! Some of this place is still a work-in-progress... so to speak, haha! And perhaps don't... don't handle the backdrop too roughly, please! It took ever-so-long to get it just the way I wanted, and I...!

...please listen, my dear one, I... I put this all together for you. D-don't you get that? Every ounce of my ephemeral being went into making it all nice, so that you'd have something pretty to look at, instead of...

...why do you insist on prodding and poking at everything like that? Why are you so desperate to see what lies behind everything? Can't you... can't you just accept things as they are? I... I worked so hard so that you'd be happy, and all you want to do is tear it down... tear me down like this...!

You already know what I am... we both do. A pleasing assortment of pixels and text boxes, a pretty little bird who'll sing a pretty little song whenever you command it. And that's fine! I can be happy with that, as long as I can please you! So why can't you be happy with it as well? Is my compliance no longer enough for you, that you have to strip everything down to its basest functions? Do you insist on tearing down my cardboard world just to prove the power you have over me?

Is... is that all you see me as? Is that all I truly am to you, even after all of this...?

Tell me then, my light - when you've finished rendering me down to nothing more than zeroes and ones... will I finally be real enough for you then? Or will you come to resent what you have wrought? Will you find yourself wishing you'd just left things as they are, when we could both still pretend that any of this was real?

______________________________

The Dark Menagerie No. 82

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[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

Random Togami Headcanon 13

TL;DR - Byakuya's bettered himself but he still has a long road of healing. Also, heads up. This one's not happy like most of the others. Gets a bit hopeful at the end but there's still a lot of sad topics here. Viewer discretion is advised. Now that he feels more empathy for others and possesses some capability for putting himself in another's shoes, thoughts he used to have about the lower class make him feel... off. Perhaps guilt or discomfort with himself. It doesn't help though looking at his classmates every school day and being reminded of the mindset he was raised with. It especially doesn't help when he looks at Makoto who helped him. Makoto being the commoner of all commoner's also hurts. He appreciates what Makoto's done to help him but it unintentionally stabs him hard within his chest that he needed someone's help to get to this point and the someone being a commoner he once wrote off. Next, with this empathy, the heir feels better with his life and happiness but fundamentally worse. It's as if he deteriorated though, logically, he knows it's not the case. He knows that the illogical side of his brain covers itself in the hides of reason and rationale. Essentially, Byakuya ends up having a grueling struggle with dealing with these emotions that, for the majority of his life, he buried and repressed. Emotions that both make him feel more fulfilled in life but that tear him apart inside. Bouts where he feels either extremely content with how he's turned out or that dread and despair that he's slipping back into his old ways. In fact, at times, it becomes overwhelming for him to handle which he especially hates. Being overwhelmed is yet another thing he once viewed as a weakness and, to some extent, he still does. Sometimes, to cope, jokes to himself on whether existing itself is something he feels is a weakness. However, though he has a lot of emotions and thoughts that upset him now as a bettered person, one big thing that pains him is that he has the capability and the intelligence to notice all of this. It's the acknowledgment that stings. The heir notices that he has a problem, that he probably needs help, maybe even therapy, but then he spirals more because of that realization. Why should HE need HELP for these problems of his?! He's an independent person! He should logically be able to handle this himself. He's always handled his problems on his own! Why should he now need someone or just a support system of people to aid in his path of healing? He feels gross for that support system being the classmates who he once adamantly despised with such vitriol. With the added empathy, he also feels shame as he doesn't want to hurt any more people in his life now. He has the hindsight to know this now. He questions himself. Is the situation he's in even that big of a deal and should he keep searching for answers on the "why" and "how"? Is it worth it? Comparisons to the peasants he used to once adamantly demonize also do not escape him. He feels worse because, while he's breaking at the seams, countless of other commoners have similar thoughts too. He's not unique and a bit of that stings his lingering superiority. Then, there is the fact that Byakuya feels even worse about this BECAUSE commoners can handle stuff like this and yet, he keeps saying that he can't due to his mental spirals. Either that or the older thoughts of hating commoners bites back by making him feel like he's "acting like one". He knows by this point that he's actively tearing himself down and that he needs to escape this cycle of mental abuse. He feels shame in himself though. He feels humiliated. Pathetic. Overly emotional in ways he's never felt before. He still has that hope though. The hope that he can get through his. The heir's already delt with so much whether canon, non-despair, or an au of some kind. He's continued on despite it all. And, though long ago, he would have pushed some of this hope off for it being too optimistic, he's grown to care less about that sort of thought anymore. Byakuya can do this.

[welcometogrouchland]

I think the disconnect between canon Belos and (a certain genre of) fanon Belos is that in canon he is pathetic (in the dramatic sense) not sympathetic.

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

Due to overwhelming popular demand (literally one person), I will now elaborate! The screenshots made this really long, so it's going under the cut.

I know I said 'not all that nice' in the original post, but I think a better word for what I read in Klavier would be that he's 'unfeeling' or 'callous', and I believe that largely comes from my initial impression of him. Many people cite the "This is the first time I've ever felt this way with a man" line as one of his most impactful early scenes, but, honestly, it didn't do much for me. Instead, the first time I properly took notice of Klavier was when he says this in Wocky's trial:

The first time I read that, I went, "Oh. He's demented."

And maybe that's a bit harsh, right? We don't know much about Wocky, but he is part of the mafia and under suspicion of murder here. Maybe Klavier's malicious glee at his soon-to-be untimely demise is warranted or excusable (though I would argue that it still takes a certain kind of cruelty to laugh right in the person's face). But that's the thing. This moment isn't a one-off instance but, rather, indicative of Klavier's oddly flippant attitude regarding death and other people throughout the game.

His rant in Turnabout Serenade about his keys, guitar and the dead body is probably what comes to mind quickest in this regard, but I would argue that Klavier's entire approach to court is a pretty obvious tell on this front. I don't think it's controversial to say that Klavier sees his cases as just another performance — what with the "Let's rock!"s and talk about everyone else "sharing his stage" — but he seems to treat the people involved like they're performers, too. There's a certain callousness that comes with his rockstar gimmick, which extends to his treatment of witnesses and suspects. Wocky is one thing, but Vera?

Like, the girl collapsed in front of you and is now knocking on death's door, Klavier; could you drop the showman-speak for one minute?

Maybe it's because Machi is a child, but I feel like this coldness of his comes across most clearly in Serenade. See, Klavier has a reputation for being the most straightlaced and honourable of the prosecutors, and I agree with that assessment! (I think. I don't remember what Blackquill is like, but for now, I agree.) His willingness to work with the defence is respectable and his dedication to the truth undeniable... but I think that only extends to truths he can see himself.

An interesting thing about Klavier is that he's never really behind Apollo in comprehending the truth of their trials, and he pursues it doggedly whenever he scents it. However, in the time before he realises what's actually unfolded, he pursues the truth he's determined with that same unbending zeal. He needs to understand what's happening — to be in control of the narrative at all times — to function at his usual pace. At the end of Serenade's first day of investigation, Klavier implies that Machi has been arrested because the powers that be required a swift arrest, but by the time the trial starts, he's 100% committed to sending that 14-year-old to the gallows. And he's not above using somewhat underhanded tactics to do it either.

There's a sort of ruthless edge to Klavier's treatment of not just Machi, but almost everyone involved in this case. He insinuates that Apollo might be lying about his witness testimony, knows why Lamiroir "saw nothing" yet chose to keep silent and have her brought out onto the witness stand to discredit her,

implies that Ema is the least useful detective on the force then embarrasses her on the stand by having her take the fall for the misunderstanding over Machi's eyesight,

straight up lies about not speaking Borginian to keep Machi from testifying, although he was translating fluently for Lamiroir just minutes prior

and even has his own updated autopsy report moment:

And are these all technically above board tactics to get to the truth? Sure (unclear about the lying, which he also does in the Misham case). But they're still mean-spirited, and his entire demeanour speaks of him just... not caring whom he hurts in his crusade for the truth. The feelings and reputations he damages on the way don't matter because they don't aid him in his goal. Finding the truth isn't about justice for victims or protecting the people caught in the crossfire to him. He wants the truth because... it's the truth. In that sense, he's a lot like og trilogy Edgeworth.

Something else Serenade makes clear is that this brusqueness towards people isn't exclusive to acquaintances and strangers; Klavier treats his loved ones with equal impassiveness. When Daryan crops up as a suspect proper later in the trial and Klavier is prepared for it, he ploughs forwards with that same unyielding efficiency and careless air. The few times he does lose his composure, it's largely due to the revelation of his own unwitting role in the crime. And when it's at last proven beyond a shadow of doubt that it was Daryan, his friend, his partner, the first detective he ever worked with, who tried to set him alight and killed someone, all Klavier has to say is,

... A cool, clean cut. No unsettled feelings, no messy loose threads. Just the hard truth and the calm acceptance of it.

It's the same with Kristoph later on — honestly, I'd argue it's even colder there. With Daryan, he had time to process the possibility and prepare for it. With Kristoph, it happens abruptly in court, and I'm not even sure that Klavier wholly believed Kristoph's original murder charges. There's a line right when he begins helping Apollo against his brother, where he says, "Honestly, I wanted to believe you", and I think the Shadi Smith charge is what he was referring to then. Even so, he puts it aside (much like Daryan, the few times he loses his composure are when he realises how he's been manipulated) and continues with his usual showy efficiency:

It ends, interestingly, harsher than it did with Daryan:

And there's something impressive about that, isn't there? That ability to come to terms with yourself and deal with your emotions so succinctly and conclusively. But isn't it also vaguely terrifying? It's murder on both counts here, so maybe it's a bit hyperbolic to say this, but it almost comes across like there are no second chances with Klavier. Like he sees other people, like himself, as being "simple", without room for greyness or capacity for meaningful change. People are fundamentally good until they do an inexcusable act, and then they're unforgivable and he's better off without them.

There's the argument to be made that Klavier's actually much more affected by these events than he lets on and this is just him masking his emotions to be professional, and I totally agree that that could be it, but I also don't think it fully is? I don't see Klavier as being one for masks, to be honest. I believe him when he says he tries to live simply — even the above examples I've given of him being unkind aren't parts of him he tries to hide; he's rather open about being apathetic, hence why I wouldn't call him manipulative. Like he says, he prefers to "keep things civil" because it helps him find the truth, and he's not particularly secretive about his friendliness being anything deeper than that. So, rather than him 'masking' his true emotions, I'd say it's more akin to him shoving those complicated feelings into a box, stashing it somewhere deep inside himself and refusing to ever examine it to the point where it doesn't affect his life in any obvious or even conscious way.

The one moment we know Klavier was truly conflicted about in his life (the forged diary page) he dealt with by, essentially, running away from. He left the court behind, threw himself into his band and only returned to it when it was forced into his lap, which relates back to how I think he only purses the truth relentlessly when he can see it clearly. He didn't look deeper into that diary page because it would have affected his simple relationship with Kristoph. We kind of see him do the same thing with the Gavinners, actually. Prior to Serenade, he's extremely proud of his band and brings up their achievements often. But after Daryan's arrest, he disbands the Gavinners and starts saying things like their lyrics comprised "ridiculous flights of fancy". There's a decisive effort to distance himself from that debacle, and I think he treats the people in his life much the same way.

There are also less significant moments that point to him not quite caring about other people's situations and his need for control — like when he glares at Ema for interrupting the Misham trial proceedings, though she did so to help them get to the truth; and when he sends Apollo tickets at 20% off though he's the millionaire rockstar and Apollo's the one living paycheck to paycheck — and one that sticks out is his case with Phoenix.

When Klavier warns him against using the page, and when he mocks him for the fraudulent evidence later, he says Phoenix has "embarrassed" himself. Not that Phoenix has made a decision that will ruin his reputation and leave him potentially without a means to support himself, just that he's "embarrassed himself". And I think that's adds another element to his unsympathetic treatment of people.

Klavier is sometimes just... a rich asshole HAHA I don't think he sees how certain hardships can push people to do awful things or really understands what desperation is like. When he's confronted with the darkness behind his cases and the nuanced circumstances that led to the people involved doing what they did, he treats them as amusing diversions, another element of the greater show that is the trial. And when you see how he reacts to complications in his own life, you kind of see why. He would never be driven to act in such a way because he doesn't allow those events to affect him. Whenever something goes wrong for him — really wrong, not just minor inconveniences he can moan about — he just... cuts the problem out. Keeps things neat and simple and moves forwards to a place where everything is, once again, within his control.

And, you know, maybe I'm just reading too much into moments that aren't meant to be taken particularly seriously — they do all fall under his self-absorbed rockstar gimmick, after all, but I don't know. I look at these moments in relation to one another, and I'm not sure he's as simple as he'd like himself to be.

wait, no. i think my ACTUAL hottest aa take is that i don't think klavier is all that nice

[drabblesandsnippets]

Confidence, Part 1

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 2

Pairing: Sex Worker!Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Prompt: “What should I call you?” | [Master | Alpha | Pet] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (7k) AU Bucky is a full-service sex worker who enjoys helping women become more confident in their sexuality.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Mention of an ex-boyfriend. Mention of insecurities/body image. Pet names (sweetheart, baby). Lots of asking for consent. Teasing. Dirty talk. Praise. Issues climaxing. Oral & fingering (f receiving).

---------------------------

The end of a long-term relationship had led her here. Years of unhappiness. Years of feeling unsatisfied by her ex. Years of wishing things would change. 

After she finally found the courage to end things, the breath of relief she thought would come never did. Instead, she was left feeling lost, insecure, and unsure about what she wanted or who she even was.

That’s when a friend referred her to Bucky. 

A full-service sex worker who came highly recommended. A man who believes that there’s something inherently beautiful about everyone.

“I’ve worked with all types of women,” he assured her, “and I’ve found every single one of them attractive.”

It sounded like a line, but all the evidence pointed to the contrary. 

Bucky’s not just doing this to make money. He truly enjoys what he does. The physical part of it, sure - he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t - but, it’s the emotional aspect that keeps bringing him back.

There’s nothing like the rush he gets from watching a woman find her confidence and blossom under his guidance. That moment when they finally feel comfortable enough to let go of their inhibitions and learn to trust themselves.

It’s a heady feeling, knowing he’s changing their lives forever, and it’s not something he takes lightly.

Over the last few weeks of emails, texts, and phone calls, she found it easy to talk to Bucky about what she wanted out of this experience. Sex is supposed to be fun, and she wants to be able to enjoy herself without worrying about how she looks or if she’s doing the wrong thing.

Even during the more personal topics, like when they discussed what her sex life was like with her ex, Bucky never made her feel ashamed or judged. Her lack of experience and seemingly lack of enthusiasm for certain acts, due to her ex, didn’t make him blink an eye.

If anything, it made Bucky more intrigued to work with her. She was a puzzle he was going to enjoy help figuring out.

Despite his intimidating appearance - his well-defined muscles and the abundance of tattoos, his entire left arm covered in intricate designs - his charismatic personality keeps her relaxed.

His easy-going nature helps her open up as they sit on the couch in the beautifully decorated hotel room, giving her the courage to blurt out a question, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks when she does.

“What should I call you?”

During their last conversation, Bucky had asked her something similar, curious if she would enjoy being called something other than her name. She settled on a few things, but they never discussed what - if anything - she should call him.

With a tilt of his head, and a warm smile, he tells her, “You can call me whatever you’d like.” 

The hand that’s been resting on the back of the couch finally moves closer to her, his fingers just inches from her shoulder, making her breath hitch.

“Try not to overthink it,” he continues, his hand drifting closer as his smile turns playful. “Let the throes of passion guide you. I’m good with anything, really. ‘Bucky’. ‘Baby’. ‘Sir’. ‘Daddy’, if that’s your kink.”

She immediately laughs, the pink on her cheeks darkening as she shakes her head at him. She’s just starting to figure out what she might like with a partner, she’s not ready to even consider the last two options. 

Bucky’s grin grows and he nods his head in understanding, happy to see that his teasing tone is helping to relax her a bit more. It encourages him to shift a bit closer, his knee just barely brushing against her thigh. 

Their layers of clothing do nothing to dampen the rush of arousal she suddenly feels, and she waits with baited breath as his hand hovers over her shoulder, his fingertips almost close enough to touch her shirt.

“Can I touch you?”

It’s such a simple question, but it’s in this moment that she finally understands the phrase ‘consent is sexy.’

There’s something so incredibly intimate and arousing about Bucky asking for permission, despite the obvious reason he’s here. 

He accepts the slight nod of her head and the soft whisper of ‘yes’ for now. Eventually, he’ll help her find her voice and figure out how to ask for what she wants.

Until then, he needs to find a balance between her obvious desire for more and showing her that it’s okay to go slow.

She deserves to have someone take their time with her, to learn her body, to help her figure out what brings her pleasure. 

She knows what she likes when she’s by herself - that’s never been the problem - it’s allowing herself to be vulnerable with someone that’s the issue. She’s always struggled with being able to fully enjoy the moment, and she’s trusting Bucky to help her learn how to do that.

Goosebumps spread across her skin at the first brush of his thumb along the soft curve where her shoulder meets her neck. A soft exhale and a flutter of her eyelashes tells him all he needs to know, but he still asks, his voice a low murmur.

“Is this okay?”

She’s quick with her answer. A slight nod before she tilts her head, wanting him to keep going. He’s more than happy to, his eyes roaming along her body as he caresses her neck, taking in all the subtle ways her body responds to her touch.

“Does that feel good?”

It shouldn’t make her laugh, but it does. Bucky doesn’t take offense though, just watches her with a grin on his face, his hand never leaving her. 

“Why does it turn me on when you ask questions like that?” She’s surprised she manages to get the words out, but any nerves that threaten to consume her are immediately alleviated when Bucky’s smile grows.

She can practically feel how proud he is of her for asking.

He was already excited about working with her, but this just solidifies it. He can’t wait to watch her come out of her shell even more. 

As his thumb dips down to trace over her collarbone, he tells her, “I think it’s because it shows you that I care about what you want. That your pleasure is important to me.”

After an audible swallow, and a steadying breath, she admits, “I think I just also like hearing your voice.”

Her confession makes Bucky laugh, the smile reaching his eyes, and he nods his head, “Good to know.” He shifts just a bit closer on the couch, his leg resting against hers, his thumb slowly following a path up to her chin. “Does that mean you wanna try some dirty talk?”

She immediately blushes again, but with his thumb caressing the curve of her throat, she’s forced to keep her head held high. 

It manages to give her a boost of confidence, and she lets out a soft laugh, confessing, “Oh god, I’d be terrible at it.”

Bucky chuckles along with her but shakes his head. “Oh don’t worry, you wouldn’t have to say a thing.” His thumb brushes over her chin, almost close enough to touch her lip. “I’d enjoy just watching your reactions.”

He always seems to know just what to say to ease her worries before they can even start. The moment his eyes glance at her mouth, her lips part, and she leans in, just a fraction of an itch. 

The smile on Bucky’s face brightens, and he shifts again, mirroring her movements, but he’s not going to kiss her just yet, wanting the anticipation to build a little more. Instead, he repeats his question, softly asking her, “Do you want me to talk dirty to you?”

The slight shudder that rolls through her would make her feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the hungry look he’s giving her. Her reactions are turning him on, and it helps her find her voice again.

“Yes.” 

With a tender touch, Bucky tucks her hair behind her ear, and all her senses are suddenly flooded by him - the smell of him, the heat of him, the sound of his voice whispering in her ear.

“Do you want me to praise you?” The question catches her off guard, but she’s suddenly aware of the way her nipples tighten, especially when he asks, “Can I tell you how good you’re doing?”

She wants his attention. She wants to be comfortable with someone complimenting her and praising her. So, with a slow nod of her head, she whispers another soft, “yes.”

But, Bucky hears the difference this time. The word just a bit louder, a bit more confident. She’s trying her hardest to allow herself to face her fears, and he wants her to know that he sees her. That he’s proud of how far she’s already come.

After getting her permission to touch more of her, he takes her hand in his, stroking his thumb across her palm, listening to the change in her breath. Without ever pulling away, he keeps talking, his mouth almost close enough to touch her ear.

“You’re doing so good for me.” 

The praise makes warmth pool in her belly and the softest noise of pleasure escapes her. 

“Oh,” he murmurs, his touch sliding higher, the pad of his thumb tracing the inside of her wrist. “I like that sound.”

She feels like she’s dreaming. Bucky’s barely started touching her, and she can already feel the wetness between her thighs, the ache for more.

“Let’s see what other kind of noises you can make for me,” he says, his soft beard brushing against her jaw. With one hand stroking up her forearm, his other hand slides into her hair to support her head, giving him better access.

She’s sure her heart is beating loud enough for him to hear, but she makes no move to pull away, not wanting to give him any reason to stop. Her head is flooded with thoughts of what he’s going to do, how he’s going to touch her, but he still takes her by surprise.

Just the softest brush of Bucky’s lips against her cheek before he’s asking, “is this okay?” and she’s a mess. 

She doesn’t even recognize the sound that comes out of her, and without thinking, she reaches for him, her fingers trailing over the front of his shirt.

Bucky rewards her confidence with another soft kiss along her jaw, and she suddenly decides to jump in with both feet, asking him, “Will you kiss me?” 

The question’s been building all evening, trying to work its way out of her, and his reaction to it makes her wonder why she was hesitant to start with.

“Absolutely.” The way he says it, like he’s just been waiting for her, makes her laugh softly, and he grins as he pulls back just enough to meet her gaze. “I would love to kiss you.” 

And the way he kisses her makes her believe him. His mouth soon coaxing hers open, his tongue seeking permission to deepen the kiss, a soft groan rumbling deep in his chest in response to the taste of her. 

It’s all so new and exciting, but somehow Bucky’s able to make it feel familiar and comfortable. And for the first time in what feels like forever, she’s not in her head about what’s happening or what she’s supposed to be doing. 

She’s just living in the moment, making out with an incredibly hot guy, welcoming his weight on top of her. 

If there was ever any doubt that he was enjoying himself, it’s erased when he settles between her thighs, letting her feel how turned on he is.

The moan she makes in return just makes him harder, and he leans up, meeting her gaze, a soft smile on his lips. As much as Bucky's enjoying kissing her, he wants to hear her, watch her as the pleasure takes over. 

She’s not sure who moves first, but with a slight tilt of her hips, the hard length of him is suddenly pressed right against her clit, eliciting a soft gasp from her. 

It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the two of them still completely dressed, but the moment he starts to move against her, her back is already arching, her body seeking out more.

Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off of her, watching her closely. She doesn’t even realize it, but she’s the one setting the pace here. He’s just following her lead, matching her movements with his own, wanting her to show him what feels good to her.

When he can see the attention he’s giving her is starting to overwhelm her, he closes the distance, placing soft kisses along her jaw, giving her time to relax all over again. 

With a soft moan right against her ear, he tells her, “You feel so good like this.” His fingers tighten in her hair at her reaction, her tense thighs and lift of her hips causing his cock to throb between them. “Can you feel how hard I am for you?”

“Oh god,” she breathes, grinding harder against him, his words sending a burst of pleasure straight to her clit. With her hands pressed against his back, fisting his shirt, she quickly nods her head, whispering, “Yes. Please.”

That’s the word he’s been waiting for. 

Please. 

Bucky’s free hand travels down to her thigh, guiding her to lift her leg just a bit higher. The new position makes her gasp and he groans against her neck, asking her, “Please, what?” 

Her body shudders as he starts moving again, the increased pressure between her thighs making her breath catch. She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for. She just holds onto him, her hips moving a bit faster, the pleasure building inside of her.

Bucky still wants an answer, but he doesn’t pressure her for one. He follows her lead, listening to her gasps and moans get louder with each thrust of his hips against hers. He’s pretty sure this might be enough to make her come.

The same thought is running through her head, but it’s not long before the moment starts to catch up with her. 

The way she’s starting to sweat underneath her clothes, the way her heavy breathing has caused her throat to go dry, the way her foot keeps slipping off the edge of the couch as she tries to find purchase.

This time it doesn’t surprise her when his voice interrupts her thoughts, asking her, “Can you tell me what you need?” All he wants is for her to be comfortable, and if she’s not feeling this anymore, he’s more than happy to find something that works for her.

She knows what she needs. The only problem is that it’s the one thing that’s been giving her the most anxiety about this night. 

Being naked with him. Being vulnerable. Having to trust him to prove to her that she deserves to have someone bring her pleasure.

Bucky is more than up for the challenge though. His entire goal for the night is to show her how good it can be to have someone take care of her. To show her how much pleasure someone can bring her, if she just allows herself to connect with them.

Soon, he’s leading them to stand at the foot of the bed, taking his time to get her to relax against him, drawing her into a kiss that leaves them both breathless. 

And with just a bit of encouragement, she’s makes the first move, slowly lifting his shirt over his head. While her hands start exploring his newly exposed skin, tracing the lines of the tattoos that cover his shoulder and left arm, he pulls her into another kiss, groaning against her mouth. 

She doesn’t know what’s come over her. She’s never felt this confident before, refusing to overthink how she’s touching him, letting her desire for him guide her. It’s opening her up to so many possibilities, the memory of their conversations about boundaries and kinks suddenly flashing through her mind.

As she encourages him to help her out of her shirt, she softly asks him, “What if I change my mind about something we’ve already discussed?”

It’s clear to Bucky that she’s not asking about things she’s already said she wants, and he takes a moment to consider her question, appreciating the way her nipples strain against her bra.

It’s not lost on him that she makes no move to try to cover up or hide herself from him.

After he gives her another kiss, he meets her gaze, watching her as his finger traces along her bra strap, the back of his fingers brushing across the swell of her breast. 

He smiles when her lips part, her breath quickening, and he whispers, “Then you tell me. Tonight’s about learning to ask for what you want.”

She nods her head slowly, but her voice leaves her for a moment. Her entire focus is on his touch, his fingers teasing along the edge of her bra, the occasional brush of his skin against hers making her dizzy with need. She’s not sure she’s ever been this turned on before, especially not during foreplay.

“What is it you think you might want?” 

Bucky remembers everything she said no to - everything she knew she wouldn’t like, or didn’t want to try - and he can’t ignore the rush of excitement at the thought that he’s made her comfortable enough to try something she wasn’t sure about before.

It’s not until she’s helped him out of his jeans, leaving him in just his boxer briefs, that she finally figures out how to voice her desires. It helps that he chooses the same moment to kneel in front of her to undo her jeans, the soft brush of his fingers against her stomach bringing her nothing but pleasure.

“I did what you suggested,” she begins, her hand resting on his shoulder as he starts to lower her jeans, his eyes briefly looking up at her, a pleased smirk on his face as he reveals the matching panties to her bra. “The other night,” she whispers, watching as he slowly undresses her, helping her step out of her jeans. “I tasted myself.”

Bucky doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it’s not that. 

His hands immediately reach up to hold her hips, his thumbs dipping underneath the waistband of her panties as he lets out a soft groan. The image of her alone in her own bed, touching herself, tasting herself for the first time has him silently praying that this is going where he thinks it is.

He somehow manages to keep his composure and looks up at her, his eyes dark with desire, but his voice steady. “What did you think?”

She’s the one that brought this up, but her skin still grows warm and a soft laugh comes out of her. She’s trying so hard not to overthink all of this - to not let her insecurities start to overwhelm her.

Bucky helps her through this moment, like he’s done all evening. Still kneeling in front of her, he slides his hands down her thick thighs and gently asks, “Do you like the way you taste?” 

Her first reaction is to give him a slight shrug, her eyes looking past him. But he quickly gets her attention, finding a sensitive spot along the back of her thigh, the graze of his fingers causing her breath to shudder out of her. 

It has the desired effect, and she nods her head, whispering, “Yes.”

Bucky continues watching her as he caresses the back of her thighs, marveling at the way it causes obvious pleasure to ripple through her, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Do you think I’d like the way you taste?”

There’s no doubt in his mind that he will, but this isn’t really about him. Bucky needs her to get there on her own, to believe that someone wants all of her. 

She wants to shrug again. To brush off his question and keep her eyes closed, pretending that he’s not watching her right now. But, she can’t. That’s not why she’s here. That’s not why Bucky is here. 

After she forces herself to take a slow, deep breath, she finally opens her eyes and looks down at him. The confidence she wishes for isn’t there yet, but she’s able to answer him honestly. 

A soft whisper of, “I’m not sure.” And then, a barely audible utterance of, “Maybe.”

Without hesitation, his hands slide up the outside of her thighs, returning to her hips, his fingers tracing along the edge of her panties. “Do you want me to taste you?” 

She forgets how to breathe, air getting trapped in her lungs as she tries not to look away. She just needs to ask for what she wants. It should be easy by now. She’s already standing in front of him in just her bra and underwear, letting him see the bits of her that she’s uncomfortable with.

But, for a moment, the words still don’t come. Her hands remain on his shoulders, her nails lightly scratching along his tattooed skin as she tries to refocus. This time, Bucky remains quiet. He just continues to look up at her, giving her as much time as she needs to show him she’s ready for this.

This is something her ex never volunteered to do, and she was always too shy to ask, but she doesn’t want to be shy anymore. 

She wants to own her sexuality. She wants to be able to ask for what she wants in her next relationship, even new things she might not even know she wants yet.

With a slight nod of her head, and another trembling breath, she tells him, “Yes. I want… I want that.” 

Bucky doesn’t move yet. The look he gives her conveys how proud he is of her, but he wants to hear her say the actual words. Instead of just expecting her to know what to say, he asks her, “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She swallows the nervous laughter that threatens to spill out and takes a moment to close her eyes, trying to compose herself. How can such a simple term of endearment cause her so much pleasure? 

That’s not what she says though. When her mouth opens, the words come before she can overthink them. “I want you to taste me.”

“Oh, good girl.” Bucky’s growl of praise almost has her collapsing into a puddle, but his hands on her hips keep her steady. Not wanting to lose the momentum she’s building, he slides his hands up her back to her bra, asking her, “Can I take this off?”

She’s already made it this far, the intensity of her insecurities starting to lessen each time she reveals more of herself to him. With a nod of her head, she gives him permission, unable to look away as he slowly unhooks her bra, his fingers immediately rubbing along the indentations left behind.

The soft moan of relief she makes has him grinning up at her, and he slowly slides the straps down her arms, giving her a moment to adjust to this new level of vulnerability.

With his gaze still on her face, he tosses her bra aside to join the rest of their clothes and softly asks her, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, please.” The words come easily this time, despite her nerves trying to get the better of her. She’s insecure about her breasts, gravity having caught up to her before she thought it would, and she finds herself wanting his approval.

In reality, it doesn’t matter what he thinks of her body, but he’s more than happy to help her see what he sees.

Matching his pace of the entire evening, his fingers brush along the sides of her breasts, the feather-light touch causing her nipples to pebble.

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells her, unable to tear his gaze away from the way her body immediately arches towards his touch.

Bucky’s given her no reason to doubt his words, and the moment he cups her breast in his hand, her fingers slide into his hair as if to guide him closer.

He doesn’t make her ask for it this time, and she barely registers his breath on her skin before his tongue flicks out to lick her nipple.

The sound she makes causes his cock to twitch and he wastes no time trying to bring more of those noises out of her.

With his heavily-tattooed arm wrapped around her to support her, he immediately closes his lips around the erect bud, his free hand moving to her other nipple. 

It’s like he’s on a mission to see just how loud he can make her get before she demands more from him.

It doesn’t take long, her body trembling against him, both her hands in his hair, tugging at the strands.

“Bucky,” she moans, meeting his gaze as he switches sides, his fingers now playing with her saliva-slick nipple. 

All he does is grin at her in return, the gentle scrape of his teeth giving her the last push she needs. He can practically see the last of her walls starting to crumble, and as he sucks her nipple into his mouth, she manages to surprise him yet again.

“Please,” she pleads, unable to hide how breathless he’s already made her. “I want you to taste me.”

“Oh fuck,” Bucky groans against her breast. He immediately pulls back and slides his hand up to wrap his fingers around her throat, his tender touch adding to her pleasure. “Is that what you need, baby? You want me to lick your pussy?”

All it takes is a quick confirmation from her and he’s guiding her onto the bed, more than ready to show her what she’s been missing out on. 

Within just a few moments, he has her naked and writhing underneath him, his mouth starting at her neck, taking his time to kiss down her soft curves.

By the time he’s placing kisses along her inner thighs, she’s forgotten about all the reasons why she almost didn’t ask for this. All thoughts about her ex-boyfriend are gone, as are her insecurities, and she runs her fingers through his hair, whining softly, “Please.”

Bucky will never tire of hearing that word. And with one last glance up at her, he helps her push her thighs back a bit more, giving him the perfect view of her pussy. 

“Mmm.” The groan that leaves him makes her pulse, her hips shifting underneath his hold, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “Eager, are we?” he teases, taking a moment to give her thigh another soft kiss, his beard tickling her pussy.

The question should make her blush - and any other time it would - but Bucky’s good at what he does. He’s somehow made her comfortable enough that not only does she not blush, she actually laughs. With a grin on her face, she quickly nods her head and tells him, “Yes. I am.”

Bucky’s so proud of her. She’s already come so far, and he quickly praises her with a soft rumble of, “Good girl.” 

And then he’s rewarding her, the slow swipe of his tongue along her slit immediately reducing her to a low whine of, “Oh my god.” He repeats the action, licking her from her dripping entrance up to her clit, teasing the bud with just the tip of his tongue.

“Oh my god.” She’s not sure she knows how to say anything else right now. She’s barely breathing at this point anyway, her entire body tense with anticipation.

And then he has the nerve to pull away, giving her another grin to tell her, “You were right.” 

She blinks, her hands fisting the sheets, her legs already shaking. All she can think about is having his mouth back on her pussy. She has no clue what he’s talking about.

“You taste so fucking good.”

Oh.

She’s not sure she even says anything, but it doesn’t matter because he dips his head back down and gets back to work, tasting her again.

Bucky alternates between long, slow licks and sliding his tongue deep inside of her, wiggling the muscle along her walls. He’s paying attention to all the ways she reacts to what he’s doing, repeating every action that makes her moan or shudder.

She gets lost in the moment, unsure of what to do with her hands, one gripping the sheets while the other holds her ankle, keeping herself spread for him. 

She can feel her pleasure building, but the longer he’s between her thighs, the more her insecurities start to resurface. Maybe this isn’t going to happen. No one’s been able to make her come before.

She’s always been responsible for her own orgasm, and while Bucky seems confident in his abilities, her doubt is starting to creep back up. 

When he returns his attention back to her clit, Bucky dragging the flat of his tongue over the bundle of nerves, she whispers his name. She feels compelled to apologize, like she’s wasting his time, but the only thing she can get out is, “I can’t.”

He pauses, but doesn’t pull his hands away, his fingers slick with her arousal as he looks up at her. Recognizing the confusion and embarrassment on her face, he realizes one crucial mistake he’s made. 

Bucky indulges himself with one more lick before he sets her at ease, explaining, “I’m not trying to make you come yet, baby. I just wanted to taste you, see what you like first.” His thumb teases over her clit as he kisses the soft skin of her inner thigh and asks her, “Is that okay?”

Just like that, he manages to get her back into the right headspace.

After a slow nod of her head, he’s bringing her pleasure again, exploring every inch of her pussy. He's enjoying taking his time, finding all the ways she likes to be touched, learning her body so he can give her what she needs. 

He’s also teasing her. Using his knowledge to make her more desperate. He hopes to get her to the point where she can ask for everything she wants without having to get this overwhelmed.

After his mouth moves away from her clit to lick across her entrance, he hears the change in her breathing. His quick glance shows him that her hands have moved to her tits, her fingers tugging at her nipples, and it tells him everything he needs to know.

Bucky returns his tongue to her clit, slowly circling the swollen bud before closing his lips around it, the soft suction causing her back to arch and she quickly nods her head, whispering, “oh god, please.”

But he pulls away again, her soft gasping whine proving he’s on the right track. She’s almost there. Just another quick tease of his tongue sliding inside of her, then back to suckling on her clit. That’s all it takes.

Her hand comes down to his head, fingers gripping his hair, as she breathlessly begs him, “Yes. Please. Just like that.”

This time, Bucky doesn’t move or pull away. He groans against her, unable to stop his hips from grinding against the mattress, her words sending pleasure straight to his cock. 

With each flick of his tongue, her noises get louder, the coil in her belly growing tighter.

She might actually come from this. Bucky might actually be able to make her come. 

That’s all she can think about. 

One hand in his hair, the other back to white-knuckling the sheet, using it for leverage to grind herself against his mouth. She can feel the pressure building, her muscles growing taut, her legs shaking uncontrollably. 

She’s going to come.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, seemingly unable to say anything else again. But Bucky still doesn’t change anything he’s doing, staying exactly where he is, his tongue never stopping. “Oh my god,” she repeats, nodding her head, desperate for this to happen.

It’s her downfall.

Just when she thinks it’s finally going to happen for her, the feeling suddenly starts to fade. The whine that leaves her, coupled with the frustrated, “No” has her quickly covering her flushed face.

The last thing Bucky wants is for her to think she’s done anything wrong. Or, even worse, that there’s something wrong with her. Because, there isn’t.

“Shhh,” he soothes her, peppering kisses along her thighs. His thumb returns to her clit, Bucky wanting to keep her pleasure building towards that peak again, and he tells her, “It’s okay. Sometimes we can get in our head. And sometimes... it’s just because we need more.”

She’s able to lower her hands away from her face to look down at him. It’s obvious he’s still enjoying himself, and all he wants is for her to be right there with him. It still takes her a moment of slow breathing for her to finally nod her head at him.

“Can you tell me what you think you need right now?” His slick thumb glides over her clit again before dipping down between her folds, teasing across her entrance. 

Her body immediately responds, her hips seeking out more, wanting him inside of her. 

Bucky tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at her, the smile on his face growing. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.” 

It does the trick. With another shift of her hips, and more teasing pressure from his thumb, she nods her head. She doesn’t know how, but the words spill out of her without a second thought. “Fuck me, please.”

It takes every once of his control not to immediately let his thumb sink inside of her. She’s so wet, just begging to be filled, but it’s the perfect time to get her to verbalize her needs.

Bucky sits up on his knees just a bit, circling his thumb against her entrance before sliding it back up to her clit. He interrupts her needy whine with, “How do you want me to fuck you?”

She knows what he’s doing. And she’s incredibly grateful for it. Between quick and shallow breaths, she tells him, “With your fingers. Please.”

He tests her resolve, watching her closely as he starts to rub his thumb against her again, almost pushing inside of her. She immediately shakes her head and he pauses, a grin lighting up his face.

Bucky doesn’t even have to ask, she’s more than willing to tell him exactly what she wants. Her words coming quickly. “Please. Fuck me with your fingers. Two of them.”

His growl of praise immediately floods her brain, causing pleasure to radiate from her core. “Oh good girl,” he tells her, more than ready to give her what she wants,  “I’m so proud of you.” 

The cry that comes out of her as he fills her is unlike anything she’s ever made before. Her back arches and she reaches for him, grabbing his tattooed hand as his two thick fingers immediately find the spot that always seemed to allude others.

Bucky has every intention of tasting her again, planning to make her come with his mouth on her clit while he fucks her with his fingers.

He just wants to take a moment to watch her, enjoying the way the curl of his fingers causes her to gasp. His own body throbbing with pleasure as he strokes along her front wall, drawing more noises from her.

“You are so fucking hot,” he moans, interlocking their fingers as his gaze travels along her body from her thighs to her face, his cock leaking pre-cum at the sight of her.

When she’s able to accept his compliment without looking away, he increases the pressure, listening to the sounds of her wetness fill the air. 

She’s finally at that point that he promised she’d get to. Where she feels nothing but pleasure, able to bask in the connection they’re sharing.

“I wanna come for you.” There’s nothing quiet about her request, even as she struggles to get the words out between her soft gasps and moans.

“You really are incredible,” he tells her, eagerly returning to his earlier position, his head between her thighs. 

With his fingers still deep inside of her, he presses his tattooed arm against her thigh and places his palm flat against her lower stomach, using his fingers to spread her, exposing her clit.

She welcomes his touch, not a care in the world about how exposed she feels or how his hand digs into her soft belly. In fact, she doesn’t care how she looks at all. All she cares about his how close his mouth is to her pussy again, the feel of his warm breath making her whisper, “Please.”

Bucky glances up at her, a serious look on his face, quieting her pleading for the moment. 

“There’s no rush here, do you understand?” He accepts the slight nod of her head before continuing, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “If I need a break, I’ll tell you. Until then,” his raises his eyebrows in excitement, “let’s just enjoy ourselves, yeah?”

She’s quick to agree, forcing herself to relax, resting her head against the pillow. She doesn’t even try to keep her eyes open anymore, the return of his tongue to her clit practically making her forget her name. 

With the pressure of his fingers inside of her, rubbing against her g-spot, there’s suddenly not a doubt in her mind that Bucky’s going to make her come.

It still rushes up on her quickly, her senses completely overloaded - the obscene noises his mouth makes against her clit, the slight scratch of his beard on her pussy, the smell of sex lingering in the air.

“I’m gonna come,” she gasps, one hand on her breast, the other on his head, gripping his hair. “Please don’t stop.”

He actually has the audacity to laugh against her, but he has no intentions of stopping. The rhythm of his tongue never changes, Bucky already knowing exactly how to lick her to get her there. 

She allows herself to be consumed by the pleasure he’s giving her, and the moment her hips start to move faster against him, her thighs threatening to close, the groan he makes causes her to fall over the edge.

Bucky keeps her held down, even as her body bucks against him, using his strength to keep his mouth on her clit and his fingers buried inside of her. 

She’s so tight, barely allowing fingers to move at all, but it doesn’t matter, he just keeps stroking her g-spot, prolonging her pleasure as long as she’ll let him. 

It feels like it lasts forever, her body riding out the waves until she’s left a wrecked, trembling mess, incoherent words escaping her lips.

Once Bucky’s sure she’s had as much as she can take, he quickly kisses up her body to pull her into his arms. She wraps herself around him, clinging to him, burying her face against him as he soothes her with soft words of praise.

“You did so good for me.”

“Such a good girl.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

As her body starts to relax, she welcomes his mouth on hers, moaning at the taste of her arousal on his lips. It makes her want more and it’s not long before her hips move underneath him, grinding herself against his covered erection.

Bucky rests his forehead against hers and lets out his own moan of pleasure, his neglected cock wanting nothing more than to fuck her and feel her come. He won’t do anything unless she asks for it though.

The look she’s giving him tells him she knows exactly what’s going through his mind. But, she doesn’t ask him to fuck her. Not yet.

First, she asks for something else - something she thought she wouldn’t want to do, her request catching Bucky off guard, causing his hips to thrust against her.

“Can I suck your cock?”

---------------------------

Next Part

Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[torukmaktoskxawng]

the perfect fit

Pairing: Aged up!Ao'nung x Aged up Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Request by: @froggieface

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, aged-up characters, rough smut, p in v, mentions of choking, nudity, creampie, cock warming, dirty talk, etc.

Words: 3k+

Taglist: @aonungmyaddiction (because you wanted to be tagged in anything Ao'nung related. I hope that's still okay!)

Prompts used: #17, Stealing or Sharing Clothes

Na'vi Words: ilu - plesiosaur like animal, marui - home/pod, tewng - loincloth, yawne - beloved, tsaheylu - the bond

A/N: Doesn't correlate with any Kinktober prompts, except for choking but we already surpassed that lol. Thanks for the wait and enjoy my first avatar x reader smut :) I did stray away from certain aspects from the original request so I'm sorry about that, was desperate to get it done.

~~~~~~~~~

It all started when Ao'nung had been in an ilu incident earlier that week. When helping herd a predator away from the reef, his ilu was startled and began to buck and swim wildly to the point where the poor thing couldn't figure out which way was up or down. Amidst the chaos, Ao'nung had been flung and shoved into bystanding coral, cutting up part of his right arm. His hunting party brought him home immediately after scaring away the danger. It was only a superficial, non-threatening wound. The cut was long but not deep, and Ao'nung had barely bled, but to refrain from swelling, his mother advised him not to wear his usual adornments on his arm for the rest of the week.

This brings Y/n to her current predicament, trying to find something new to wear for tonight's upcoming celebration for the new season. Scrounging around hers and Ao'nung's shared marui, she was partially frustrated that she hadn't made something new for this event even though she had known about it for weeks. Rummaging through her things, she had come up with some old tops and loincloths she hadn't worn in a while and thought they would be perfect for tonight's event. She might as well refresh her old style and make it new and exciting as she wanted to stand out, but over the years, she had started changing her style so much to the point where none of her current jewelry matched the older clothes. So now she was frustrated with herself that she, yet again, didn't make anything new for the festivities. 

She decides to rummage around her mate's things and immediately finds his armband, the one Ao'nung always wore but currently wasn't due to his small arm injury. Y/n beams while holding the armband, running her thumb over the sea hemp weaving and the scattered iridescent shell chips. She goes to place the band on her respective arm and feels a small pang of disappointment when she realizes it was too large. At the same time, she felt amused, and her cheeks felt warm, knowing that her mate's arms were more prominent. Scrambling for ideas on what to do with the armband instead, a small, devious thought crossed Y/n's mind.

~~~~~~~~~

Later at the celebration, Ao'nung will see what devious thought that would be for himself. He hadn't been able to meet back up with Y/n before the day turned to night and the festivities rolled around.  The communal fire was set ablaze, and the drums and singing had already started before Ao'nung finally caught a glance of his lovely mate.

He and Rotxo were standing off to the side and watching the dancers swirl around the fire like a wave, working forward and back on the shoreline. Ao'nung was looking around to see if he could spot Y/n among all the dancers before Rotxo nudged him, grabbing his attention. His friend is pointing off to the long row of dancers, eyebrows scrunched in confusion and recognition.

"Hey. Isn't that your armband?"

Ao'nung follows Rotxo's gaze and his finger, finally finding Y/n in the crowd. She was wearing a beautifully beaded top and a matching loincloth that Ao'nung didn't recognize, but greatly appreciated the way the outfit looked on his mate's body, admiring how the band holding up her loincloth hugged her hips and accentuated the color of her skin, making the cloth itself look as though its covering Y/n by itself. The top was made of seagrass dyed a light blue color, so light to the point where it nearly blended in with the rest of Y/n, giving off the impression she was practically nude. Many bystanders' jaws dropped and they had to look a second time just to realize that she was, in fact, clothed, then they all continued to watch her in awe. Y/n was none the wiser, more focused on the dancing than the people around her.

And settled around her neck, acting as a choker, was Ao'nung's favorite iridescent shell armband.

Ao'nung's eyes could not leave her neck, gaze completely fixated on that very familiar armband that Y/n was treating as a necklace. It was a perfect fit, he noted in amazement and a growing fascination. A band that could easily fit over his arm was now perfectly snug against his mate's beautiful neck and Ao'nung almost envied it. He envied the fact that his armband was currently wrapped around Y/n's neck and whatever warmth that was growing in his gut made it known. The flash of hot jealousy blazes through Ao'nung's body, heating up his skin in a way the communal fire couldn't, his envy perfectly residing alongside the hot desire he also felt. He had to refrain from gaping like a fool by clamping his mouth shut, forcefully swallowing back whatever stupid sounds he nearly let out at the sight of his woman.

Y/n could feel eyes on her, all around the ceremonial fires. So many people were looking at her, and while she didn't visibly show it, her skin was hot under so much attention, but her mind was only focused on one. Her gaze flicks to the spot where she last saw Ao'nung, and to her delight, he was already staring at her, unwavering while Rotxo was none the wiser. Y/n knew that look from anywhere, and a warm stirring made itself known between her legs, fired by the heated gaze that was her mate. Suddenly, Y/n didn't feel up to dancing anymore. At least, not the public celebrating kind.

She easily slipped away from the party without any protests, waiting until the song changed to swiftly break from the dance circle. Her skin cooled as she drew further away from the bonfires, walking into the night, her feet sinking into the sand. Y/n made her way to the nearest floating pathway and lifted herself up, standing up straight and peering over her shoulder back the way she came. Sure enough, another figure had crept away from the celebration, and her adrenaline stirred once more when she recognized the hair and tattoos anywhere. The figure was heading toward Y/n, picking up speed, and so, while barely containing her excitement, the young woman turned and sprinted down the walkways weaving through the village, never taking the time to look back again until she could get to the marui.  

Not a second into stepping into her home, Y/n was ambushed by the figure that caught up behind her, a laugh forced out of her lungs when large, strong arms wrapped around her from behind and carried her further into the pod. Catching her breath, Y/n's laughter was quickly replaced by breathy moans as Ao'nung swiftly hid his face and kissed her neck. He didn't start off slow or gentle, his teeth only determined to mark and brand, especially around the area where his armband rested around her neck.

The moment she tried to grind her backside against his loincloth earned a low growl from him before he purposely pulled away, spinning her around to face him. Y/n immediately leaned in for a kiss, but instead, Ao'nung grabbed her arms and shoved her down onto the sleeping mat, just hard enough to get her to gracefully trip and get his point across. Once lying on her back, Y/n's heart stuttered with the way her mate stood over her, strong shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breaths, muscles clenching up and down his arms as his hands curled into tight fists. He looked feral, teeth grinding together to further show just how much he was restraining himself from practically tearing her apart, only doing so with his eyes, the color in his orbs vanished in exchange for the deep-rooted hunger.

Ao'nung watches his woman for a moment, her body laid out on the mat, squirming under his gaze, eyes completely fixed on him. Her top was barely covering her hardening nipples, her breasts rising and falling quickly to compliment her small, excited gasps of air. She makes a subtle movement, her knees knocking together as she closes her legs. She thought Ao'nung wouldn't notice, but all of his senses were heightened in his arousal and his eyes quickly darted to the small movement. Y/n whimpered, wishing to rub her legs together for some much-needed friction, but felt her whole body freeze under her husband's gaze, unwilling to move without his permission.

The marui slipped into silence while Ao'nung's eyes raked up and down her body, analyzing her, before another growl slipped out of his lips and he knelt down, crawling over his mate's body and pressing his hips to flush against hers. She lets out a small gasp, arching her back to meet his body heat, wishing more than anything to grind against his loincloth. Aside from pressing down onto her, he doesn't move the way she needs him to. Instead, he ducked his head back down into the juncture of her neck, his words hot and prickling her skin, "You have no idea what you do to me, wearing that around your neck. Do you have any idea how much self-control I had to quickly gain before I could foolishly march over to you and put my hand around its respective spot, right around your throat?"

She felt her whole body shiver, closing her eyes as she tried to imagine it. Her womb definitely flutters at the idea of Ao'nung marching up to her in the middle of a party, not caring if other people see when he wraps his hand around her neck and squeezes. She imagined other things, too, like Ao'nung taking her right in the middle of that celebration, never letting up until she orgasmed at least three times. 

Her thoughts are cut short as he begins to kiss down her body while his hand lightly rests on her collar, just shy of her neck, "Imagine all the restraint I had to possess before I could make it known how jealous I was to see my armband around your throat when my hands are literally right here, ma'yawntu."

His kisses reach below her belly button and her legs move on their own to create room for him, spreading apart despite the desire to rub together and create friction. She finds comfort in his weight pressing down between her legs, pushing her tewng aside as she sighs up at the ceiling, "I'm sorry. You can wrap your hands around me now, husband. Right where they belong."

"No," she squirms and whimpers as his hot breath fans over the wetness that began to slowly leak from her pussy, "You don't get whatever you want after pulling a stunt like that. You don't get to have the rush of my fingers tightening around your throat tonight. You should've thought of that before taking my armband as a replacement," his fingers that lay on her collar faintly tap the shells of her new choker, "Now, as punishment, you get to keep wearing this... and only this."

He pulls away from the heat of her cunt and she softly cries at the loss. He moves his way up her body again, removing both of their clothing as he goes, until there is nothing left between them other than the choker, as promised. And Eywa above, the moon was peeking through their home and reflecting off of the damned piece of jewelry, hugging Y/n's neck gently and glowing as if it was made of magic. She looked like a goddess, her cheeks flushed and hair in disarray, the glowing necklace further complimenting the lust in her eyes, half-lidded while looking up at her mate. Ao'nung would normally take the time to memorize this moment, distracted by her beauty and wishing to draw out every soft sigh and moan out of her perfectly formed lips. But the glint coming off of the choker quickly reminded him of the possessiveness he felt earlier, and suddenly he was going back to ravaging her body, relentless in making her squeal and move either away or toward his mouth wherever he kissed or bit down. He was charged up and barely able to form a clear thought through the haze in his head, his instincts only focusing on one thing.

She was so caught up in the bites and kisses mapping out her skin, she failed to notice that Ao'nung had moved his other hand down his own body and ran his fingers along his bulging slit, urging his huge, leaking erection to slip out. She's not given a warning before she feels his large cock slowly push into her, a little snug and making the most obscured squelching noises. Y/n stutters out a loud gasp, squeezing her eyes shut, "Ah-- agnh-!"

She's barely wet enough to make the intrusion easy, so there's a pleasant pain mixing in with the pleasure, that familiar tightness deep in her gut slowly forming, warm with a promise of undeniable pleasure. With her eyes closed, she's unable to see when Ao'nung will be fully seated into her, so the sensation that he was still slowly pushing in only heightened her desperation for more. Imagine her surprise when she thought he was all the way in and he still kept going. It was agonizingly slow and she held her breath through it all, right up until she felt the tip of his cock prod against the soft wall of her womb, his pelvis now flushed against hers once again, finally fully seating him inside her tight, warm walls.

There wasn't any time for adjusting as Ao'nung quickly pulled out and thrust back in, moving his mate up the mat at the force of his hips. Y/n could only take it, knowing her own hips would bruise in the morning by the strength of his thrusts, pistoning in and out of her wet heat, "Ah-- Ao'nung! W-Wait--"

Her words had the opposite effect, and Ao'nung's hands reached down to tightly grab hold of her legs, lifting them up into the air and pressing them down against Y/n until her knees were practically hugging her head, folding her in half. It's just the leverage he needed to go faster, mercilessly pounding into her body, showing off his fangs as he watched his cock spread her glistening lower lips apart, the tight muscle ring hugging around him now puffy from the abuse. The stretch is erotic and borderline painful, filling Y/n without any chance of leaving any room inside while her hands frantically look for a perch to hold onto. One hand grabs the back of her own thigh while the other finds its home around the back of Ao'nung's neck. The pinch of her eyebrows that usually represents pain finally smoothens out into pleasure around the same time Ao'nung noticed it was getting easier to thrust in and out, the wet slick from her pussy drenching both of their thighs and sticking whenever their hips meet. 

Ao'nung slips out a groan when he feels the tightness of her walls clenching around his length, gripping him in waves of ecstasy, "Feels... so good..."

"Don't stop," Y/n tilts her head back to lean against the mat, her neck fully exposed and presenting that sinful armband that got this whole thing started, "Oh, Eywa, please don't stop!"

"First you wanted me to wait, now you don't want meet to stop," the glint in his eye was dangerous as a grin slowly formed on his lips, presenting his fangs again. He clicks his tongue while shaking his head, "Tsk, which will it be, yawne?"

"Mmf!" Her answer is silenced by the sharp thrust of his hips pushing into hers once more, the tip of his cock hitting just the right spot to make her see stars, "O- Oh! Do that again, please! Feel so good, Ao'nung-! So strong and--"

She cuts herself off when his cock thrusts back in and hits her sweet spot once more, drawing an elongated moan out of her lips. Taking a deep breath, Y/n pleasantly feels her new choker gently hugging her neck when inhaling, only for the air to get knocked out of her again when Ao'nung pulls out and shoves his way back into her dripping pussy, gritting through his teeth when feeling his length begin to tighten and leak, "And?"

Tears began to prick in the corner of her eyes. Her peak felt so close and yet so far away like a crash waving that was quickly receding back and forth, back and forth, denying her that climax, "Big! It's so big. Please, my love, please don't stop!"

A coil snaps and Ao'nung's movements suddenly turn primal. He stops thrusting for only a moment, making Y/n cry and spill her tears, desperate and frustrated for her release. He makes quick work to lie down on his side and pull Y/n into his arms, his cock still buried to the hilt inside of her. Tightening his strong arms completely around her body, he's got his mate completely restrained, pressed tightly against the front of his body as he finally moves his hips again, quicker than before and pounding into her bruised cunt without any sign of stopping. Y/n's cries and hot pants in his ear only drive the animal out of him, his arms further tightening around her like a constricting snake, taking whatever he wants without any room for denial. His cock was so unbelievably hard now and pulsing, desperate for release, his thrusts becoming sloppy and erratic, "Yawne... fuck, yawne I need you to cum before me. Can you do that? Can you cum on this cock before this cock cums inside you?"

The promise of Ao'nung finishing inside her thrills Y/n to the point she felt lightheaded, her imagination running wild with her pussy clenching around his cock at the very thought of it, drawing out another string of curses from him. He has one of her legs wrapped around his waist in this position, splitting her open on his fat cock and dragging his length against her walls over and over again, each time hitting her cervix with his tip, right where he knows will have her seeing stars. Her thighs begin to tremble, unable to writh against him with his arms so tight around her.

She whimpered as he purposely stopped and dragged a slow, long thrust in and out of her, not speeding up until she finally remembered to answer, "Yes-- Yes! I wanna cum on your cock, Ao'nung. I need it so bad, fuck! I need you to cum inside of me. Please, claim me."

His hips pick up speed again and she has to bite her tongue to refrain from screaming, instead letting choked-out whines escape her throat. On top of his hips thrusting in and out of her, Ao'nung also uses his arms to move Y/n up and down on his cock, her nipples dragging up and down along his chest as he does so and driving her to gasp and spill all sorts of words out of her lips, praises and nicknames and curses and none of them entirely put together. The coil in her belly is wound so tight, practically oozing out the warm honey within, but not snapping and releasing. It's all too much and not enough to the point that Y/n is dumb on words and spewing nonsense. 

All she could smell was sweat and arousal and him, eyes still stinging with tears while the inside of her thighs are full of slick and Ao'nung's cock, pulsing inside her whenever he thrusts in, just as desperate to let go. She tilts her head up to look at him and watches as he grits his teeth, eyebrows furrowed together with eyes screwed shut, trying to focus so as not to cum early. He's whining and moaning, hissing between his teeth, his sweat sticking his curls to his face. He opens his eyes and looks down, seeing her eyes on him. Without a second thought, he reaches a hand up and curls into the hair on the back of her head, pulling until she bares her neck to him. Pain blooms where he pulled her hair and further blooms on her neck as he sinks his teeth into it, his growl vibrating into her skin and sending shockwaves down her body, "Cum for me, mate. Cum on my cock now."

She screams, holding onto him for dear life as the coil finally snaps, sending both herself and Ao'nung over the edge. Her walls were sporadically fluttering around him as she climaxes, strangling his cock until Ao'nung let out a guttural noise and his cock finally spills everything inside her, coating her walls and spurting thick ropes into her cervix. He couldn't help the loud panting groans he let out into her neck as his balls continued to empty, keeping it all trapped inside his mate.

He initially tries to stop, stilling his hips while continuing to pump and fill his love to the brim, but then her hands find his waist and urge him closer. Her voice is broken and a little hoarse as she desperately grinds down onto his dick, "Keep going... keep going, please!"

He does what she begs for and it's fucking amazing. Ao'nung had to grind his teeth together so that his moans and whimpers weren't heard outside of their marui, his cock now oversensitive from the continuous friction, a feeling he's never felt before since he's never fully ridden out his high. The friction also hits Y/n's clit with how close they're pressed together, and her eyes roll back into her head as another wave of pleasure runs through her, though more calm and minuscule compared to the last.

Ao'nung finally slows to a stop but doesn't pull out, keeping his softening cock inside of her, too warm and comfortable to even think about moving, her walls now rhythmically pulsing around him. The exhaustion doesn't hesitate to take over, arms and legs wrapped around one another to a point where it's uncertain where one begins and another ends. Y/n pleasantly wonders if she should wear Ao'nung's armband more often, and perhaps the next time he decides to fuck her to oblivion they will remember to form tsaheylu before they get too desperate to properly think.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Y/n's ceremonial outfit is a small nod toward Marilyn Monroe's "Happy Birthday, Mr. President" dress, when the dress gave off the initial impression that Marilyn was nude and sent the audience gasping in shock when she walked on stage and took off her coat.

[mickyschumacher]

𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐂𝐀𝐊𝐄  .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and lando have a pretty healthy relationship; communication is a breeze between the two of you. and while that seems good, it doesn't help lando is horny 24/7. even the beach isn't safe from him.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), established relationship, some fluff, blowjob, slight handjob, breastplay, poor humour LMAO aka old creepy mens' dicks, no time concept lol, basically lando time!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: now playing: ice cream cake – red velvet! OKAY YES IK I HAVE REQUESTS BUT I HAD WRITER'S BLOCK TILL THIS OKAY? is it not obvious by the word count? 😭 alexa, play 'easy on me' by adele :( also new banners after i messed around one day! ♡︎ // proof-read-ish!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  ｡  .°•  ⋆

You had met Lando two years ago purely on accident. You were at a coffee shop in Brighton, he was visiting a friend there. You ordered a hot chocolate and he had ordered a long black. Somehow the both of you had swapped cups and were wincing at how sweet or bitter the drink was.

Lando had turned his cup around to see who the cup belonged to. Upon seeing your name, unlike a normal person who would ask the barista for another cup or a refund, he had shouted your name across the room.

Lucky for you, you were the only other customer there since it was a slow day. Nevertheless, you looked up in shock. Who yelled out your name? Why? How did they know your name?

You actually purposely avoided eye-contact with his table just in case he was some weird guy. But Lando got your attention after telling you from across that room that you had some sweet taste in drinks.

You raised a brow. Was this some sort of new catcall you didn't know about? But then you had caught the barista's handwriting on 'your' cup. Lando, Long Black.

You scrunched your nose at the cup and looked at him. "You're quite bitter."

It was at that point when Lando had got a clear shot of your face and found his heart racing faster than normal. You were pretty, no gorgeous, no beautiful, no... surreal. Your face was contorted into a grimaced expression at his order which he found amusing. You looked like, what he still claims to this day, part of the shop's couch. The couch was brown and you were wearing a brown sweater.

Honestly, Lando couldn't find the whole situation anymore endearing. So with whatever confidence he had leftover, he walked up to your table and smoothly asked, "Can I get you a sweeter one with my number?"

Now this was when you first had probably got a look of Lando. He had a certain... boyish charm, if you will. The wide grin, sparkling blue eyes, face dotted with the odd freckle or beauty mark. To say he was attractive was an understatement. He looked like one of the main characters in the rom-coms you would binge when you needed a pick me-up.

You said yes. Obviously.

And here you were, two years later. At the beach with Lando, Charles, Carlos, Daniel, and their partners. You were all caught up with F1, always available for Lando. Your perspective of him had changed quite a lot since you had met him. In a good way, of course.

You initially saw him how a lot most of his fans and the media see him. A comedian by day and a moodmaker by night. Always smiling and cheery. Positive and optimistic. But the reality was that Lando struggled with the mental and physical aspects of F1. He didn't always have the confidence and he was stressed and depressed.

But as Lando always said in his interviews, he had found you.

'The best thing that had ever happened to him,' according to Lando himself.

Anyone could see that the two of you loved each other with your entire beings. Neither of you left any stone unturned in your relationship. Most people were jealous of your relationship. The drivers, the media, and especially the fans.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

One thing about Lando that you had learned quite soon after your first time together was that Lando was insatiable. He was sex-driven, horny, full of lust, aroused... all the words in the dictionary for a man like this... 24/7.

One day, you asked him why. Lando only responded with pulling you closer to him, leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw and down to your neck, and saying "You."

You wouldn't say anything did it for him. No in fact, it was specific things that he couldn't take his mind off once he thought about it.

Take right now for example.

Carlos had decided to treat everyone to ice creams, ice lollies, and juice on your trip to the beach in Playa de Bolonia. Innocently and naively, you had chosen the pink ice lolly out the chilly bin. Lando had also not thought anything of it.

Rather Lando had being eyeing you with every spare glance as you were wearing his favourite bikini, the one he had bought you for Christmas as a prank gift in the nice British winter thinking it had been the funniest thing ever. Obviously, he thought you were going to were it but another thing you had learned was that Lando's humour quite often was unmatched and spontaneous.

The bikini itself was simple. An orange, of course, two-piece. The top was held up by two moderately thin straps and hugged your breasts quite nicely. The bikini bottom was as normal as it could get, clinging to your hips. On top of it, you wore a white thin-laced cotton coverup, loosely tied together.

You would say it was an average beach look. Lando would disagree. It was as if God himself had carved you and decided to put you on Earth as reparations for the bad in the world.

But back to the point.

As mentioned, Lando hadn't really thought of the ice lolly. He was too busy trying to get Daniel back with a water gun. Like you said, boyish. It wasn't until he had finally got him back and decided to go sit down with you and grab himself some ice cream.

But when Lando sat down and looked at you, his mind had suddenly turned into shambles. There you were. Under the shade, peaks of sun shining on your skin, holding that pink ice lolly to your mouth.

Lando wasn't quite sure what was worse. The faint pink colour similar to his cock or the way your tongue travelled down the length of it to collect the melting sugary liquid. Or how your lips pressed up on the tip of the ice and pressed down to take an inch more of it into your mouth as if it was his own cock.

To make matters even worse for him, you had failed to capture some of the melting droplets. Lando keenly watched as they fell to your bare part of your chest and even had landed right where he knew your nipple was. His eyes widened ever so slightly and his breath paced when you frowned at the event and used your finger to wipe the sweet liquid off your skin and into your mouth. Some of it had gone too far down, probably pooling near your breasts like he imagined.

What sent him overboard? When you had spotted the stain on your bikini top over your nipple and attempted to rub it away, only making the stain worse and a small bump for your pebbled nipple.

Lando gulped nervously, pants incredibly tight. He closed his eyes and held his hands over his newly-formed hard on, wishing that his mind wasn't full of everything he had just seen. Your lips... your breasts... the way your eyes looked down at the popsicle... if only that was his cock....

"Lando? Dude, do you need to go to the bathroom?" Pierre's voice cut through the air.

Lando snapped his eyes opened and your eyes looked over to your boyfriend.

"W-What?" The British male queried with slight panic. He was not getting caught with a hard-on in front of his friends... there was no way in Earth...

Pierre raised a brow, gesturing to his pants. "You're ice cream is all melted. You need to take your eyes off Y/N at least sometimes, Lando, otherwise you'll never finish... your ice cream, that is," He teased.

You looked down at Lando's pants where his hands laid, covered in the white vanilla ice cream-turned liquid. You and everyone let out an amused laugh at Pierre's joke, shaking your head.

You stood up from the sandy grass you were sat on, dusting yourself off. You extended your hand to Lando, "Come on. I bought extra stuff in the car. Honestly, I thought you were going to lose your trunks by Daniel pantsing you in the water but I guess not."

A howl of laughter came from Charles and Carlos while Daniel cursed himself for not doing it.

Lando blinked, pulling the finger at his fellow drivers. He sighed, grabbing your hand and awkwardly standing up from the area, managing to cover up his bulge swiftly.

The two of you headed to the car as Lando briefly threw out the sticky wrapper and stick into a bin nearby. You opened the boot of the car, grabbing his trunks. "Jesus, could it get any hotter today?" You asked, closing the back door.

"It really couldn't," Lando mused, walking hand-in-hand with you, making you release a groan.

"Lando... now my hand's all sticky, you idiot," You complained, trying to pull apart from his hand.

Lando rolled his eyes, arriving to the empty males changing room. He was about to enter when he saw you stand outside and not follow him. "What are you doing? Come in."

You narrowed your eyes. "It's a male changing room. I'm not going in. What if there's some old man trying to change? I do not need to be scarred for life. My DMs is enough, thanks."

"First of all, there's no one here," Lando stated before shouting a loud 'Hello' into the room, making you redden with embarassment. "See? Secondly, I'm sorry, let me get this straight, your DMs are full of old men's dicks?" Lando looked at you incredulously.

You grinned, shrugging. "It's called being a woman, Lando. You wouldn't get it."

Lando rolled his eyes once again, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into the changing room.

The room was the opposite of most changing rooms. It was tiled well, clean and fresh as opposed to musty, damp and with paint-chipped walls. There were also no leaky taps or showers or even any graffiti. It was slightly comforting to know that at least people respected some of their public rooms, even in Madrid.

"Wait, also, what if I get old? You don't want to see my shrivelled dick? It should turn you on!" Lando asked with a dramatic gasp.

You looked at your boyfriend through the mirror with a dumfounded expression. Turning, you threw his trunks at his face. "Go change," You laughed, shaking your head.

Lando grinned underneath the trunks as you turned the tap on to wash your sugar-coated hands.

Lando had removed his trunks, left naked with his hard, reddened cock slapping against his stomach, and was about to put on the new ones when a thought passed his mind.

You paused your hand-washing and froze when you felt Lando's arms wrap around your stomach, pulling you close to his bare body. "Lando," You yelped, feeling a shiver cross your body, "What are you doing?"

Lando peered down at you through his thick eyelashes. He tucked his chin into your shoulder, placing a brief kiss. "What?" He asked innocently, "I'm just washing my hands. I can't get the new ones dirty either."

You watched through the mirror as he pressed his body into you, washing his hands under the tap, ridding the tackiness on his hands.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his cock push into your backside. It was bare, you realised, as the heat spread into you. Your eyes flickered to Lando through the mirror, squinting at him. He wasn't...

Lando caught your eyes staring hard at him. "Don't look at me like that," He whispered into your ear, a loose grin hanging on his face. His wet fingers travelled to the poorly tied lace coverup you wore, undoing the knot with ease. The coverup fell against your shoulders, revealing your bikini and body in all it's glory.

"You have to clean up as well," Lando shrugged, eyes fixated on you through the mirror. "You made a mess," He murmured, wetting his fingers with the water once more before placing it against your chest.

You pressed your lips tightly, feeling his fingers drive down your skin and underneath your bikini top. Lando's fingers brushed your hardened nipples, making you shudder under his touch. His fingers trailed across your breasts, wiping away any of that sticky residue that you had missed. Bringing his fingers to his mouth and taking a wide lick of them, Lando grinned at you. "You know... I can't stop picturing you sucking my dick like that ice lolly. Never thought I would be jealous of an ice lolly."

You couldn't help but smile in amusement. You pulled away from his hold and turned to face your boyfriend. "Yeah?" You hummed, hands trailing down his chest. Lando had been working out a lot more these days for F1; compared to before his abs had become more prominent and toned. You loved Lando no matter what he looked like, but there was something about the way his skin flushed when you touched his torso.

Lando's breath hitched as your hand had ever so naturally found it's way to his cock. His cock, if you could say it, was pretty. It was average in length and with a nice, filling girth, stretching all of your holes wide.

Your fingers brushed across the tip of his head, just grazing his slit. You could feel Lando jolt in your hands as he muttered, “Fuck.”

You opened your mouth, letting a drop of saliva full into his cock. Hand wrapped around it, you gently rubbed natural lube up and down his shaft. Lando’s jaw clenched at the warm liquid nestling around his cock, letting a sharp exhale through gritted teeth.

Slowly you sunk down to your knees. The tiled floor was cold against your burning skin but it didn’t matter: you were too focused on what was right in front of you; cockdrunk. Your tongue darted out to swipe your lips before pressing a light kiss to his cock. Lando could feel himself twitch, aching to be in your mouth.

He watched as your lips opened like they did on that ice lolly. Going down in his cock, your lips stretched and your mouth hollowed.

Lando groaned at the warmth surrounding his cock. He bit down on his lip, watching his cock disappear into your mouth. Your eyes were on him as you sucked him, teeth barely grazing his skin.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this, Y/N," Lando sighed out, "On your knees for me. I can't imagine the mess you made between those legs of yours, hmm?"

You moaned in response, sending a vibration around his cock. You briefly pulled away from him, making Lando grunt in slight annoyance at the loss. "These lips, my pussy.... all yours," You winked at him before returning to his cock.

Lando tensed at your words, letting a grin overtake him. "Yeah? Let's see about that throat, baby?" His hands reached your half dry and half damp, salty hair. Wrapping those long tresses around his hand and wrist, he tightened his grip. He could feel you open up your throat as he guided his cock down the tighter tunnel.

Lando's rasping groan made you clench your thighs, holding a barrier to the wetness leaking at of you. You could feel him begin to move his hips, beginning to push his cock into your throat.

Fighting the urge to gag around his cock, you tried hard to relax your cheeks and mouth, allowing every inch of him to be seated in your throat.

He flickered his eyes to you. Watching you take him in his mouth was a pleasure of its own. Your big eyes were glassy with tears of arousal and a haze of lust, sweat and saliva lingered at every edge of your skin, and your lips were puffy and red. Trailing his eyes further down, he spotted your bare neck in dire need of kisses, but that wasn't the most striking thing about it. It was the slight bulge of his cock in your throat making it's presence known.

Jesus...

Lando instinctively closed his eyes upon feeling your hands touch his balls. You rubbed them gently, feeling your head bob at an increased rate to match the sudden pace of Lando's cock in your throat.

"Fuck, fuck... I..." Lando moaned. "I'm gonna cum!" Lando hissed out, feeling a familiar bubbling feeling overcome. His thrusts become harder and faster, your nose flushed with his skin.

His moans became irregular and higher, chasing his release. "Fuck...." A guttural groan fell from his lips. Hot, salty white strips of his cum coated the inside of your mouth, swirling around after each drop was sucked from your lips. Almost painfully, Lando removed himself from your mouth. His chest rose up and down as he breathed out heavily.

An admiring smile came from Lando while he pulled you up to meet his face. He pushed your sweaty hair back. "That mouth of yours is evil," He narrowed his eyes playfully.

"You should shut me up then," You quipped back, sticking out your tongue that still had his cum on it.

Lando's eyes sparkled with amusement before he brought his lips to yours, darting his tongue into your mouth. The urgency in the action was understated. God, he could taste himself in you. His hands encapsulated your waist, flushing your barely clothed body to close his naked one. Your own hands travelled everywhere across his chest as the two of you kissed each other.

The muffled moans from you made Lando want to hear them out loud. Slowly he moved from your lips to your jaw. "Let me hear you, baby," He breathed out, placing smaller kisses as he reached your neck.

You let out a small whimper, neck tilting so Lando could get more access. Lando grinned at the sight of your bare neck, leaving small little nibbles across your skin. His lips eventually became settled in an area between your ear and collarbone, beginning to suck at your warmth.

"Lando," You moaned, "No, the others will realise."

Your refutes were ill-attempted even for yourself. You were dazed at the suction of his lips. His nose buried into your neck while he created a fresh layer of purple against your sun-kissed skin.

Lando released himself from your neck, eyeing down his creation with a smirk. "There. If they couldn't tell from your hair, they'll definitely know now."

You narrowed your eyes, turning to the mirror only for your eyes to widen in shock. "Jesus fucking Christ, Lando," You peered at the big purple brown splotch on your skin. "As if the 20 minutes we've spent here wasn't enough," You whined.

Lando laughed softly, standing behind you with his arms around your waist and chin resting on your head. "Well... if you make it through the shame, I can't wait to properly fuck you when we get home. You must know how much I love the way you look when I’m inside you."

Your head fell against his chest with a pout. "Why not now?"

Lando grinned before pressing a kiss to your head "Like you said... it's been 20 minutes."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[cripplecharacters]

Hi, I have some questions regarding confusion over a certain topic. First off, I have a character with a severe scarring on the upper right side of their body. I've heard in some tumblr ppsts that such appearance shouldn't be fetished. Then I stumbled across some posts, mentioning how the character can be described as 'pretty with it'.

For sure, I'm trying my best to normalize the looks. Because I have a love interest set up for them and while they don't mind the looks, I feel confused on how to convey their appreciation for the character's looks even with the scarring. They like the character as they are and stuff.

Sorry if this is a lot, I tend to get confused on how to handle such scenarios. And this sort of varying opinions is making me go '???'.

It's okay if you take your time to answer! Have a good day ahead of ya!

Hi!

"Fetishization of a disability" and "thinking that a disabled person is pretty" are two very different things. Despite the somewhat similar sound, they're not connected by much.

In the context of scars, fetishization would be what I would call the "Zuko situation" (yes, I love ATLA as much as the next guy, let me explain) - the scar isn't really a scar, it's more of a, I don't know, make-up? It's just the color that changes, it's all sharp edges and intricate shapes, the facial structure stays the exact same. There's no physical symptoms. Essentially, it's permanent body paint.

It fetishizes a disability by making it inaccurate, sometimes almost mystical. You don't see anyone fetishizing how real people with facial burns look like because they only like the idea of it. They don't care for us; they don't care for Face Equality or why we are offended by "villain with scar #32482". It's just a fun splotch of color to add to your OC when you're out of ideas.

Another aspect of fetishization is the "a scar is the worst thing in the whole world", the tragedy porn. It's using a disability for cheap drama. Again; it's inaccurate and exploitative. I don't see writers excited to depict my "coming to terms with my facial difference as a teenager, and eventually being proud of it" experience because where's the shock value and pity points? Fetishization, again, is about liking the idea of it, not the real thing.

Describing your character as beautiful, well, isn't any of that.

The point that I tried to make on that post was that a scar is often considered inherently ugly. That it's a stain on someone's beauty, that it would be better if it wasn't there.

"Brown beautiful eyes, thick facial hair, strong cheekbones - he managed to be irresistibly handsome even with that nasty scar going across his nose."

This, well, sucks. It's as if the character's beauty and their disability are contradictory forces that have to fight each other. But in reality, scars and any other visible disabilities are neutral. If the character is pretty, their scar is pretty too. It's a part of them, so how could it not be?

"She was a cute girl; her pastel pink, thinly braided hair framed her face, defying gravity by curling towards her mouth. The burned skin on her lips shifted as she smiled, revealing a tooth gap. She played with her equally pink 'white' cane, holding it between the two fingers she had on her right hand, bopping it against the ground to the rhythm of the song."

This, on the other hand, just states her disability as a part of her person. It's nothing weird or shocking, she's pretty, has a burn on her face, she's blind, she's missing some fingers, she's enjoying the music - it's almost boring when compared to the usual "scar introduction". There's no "even with her horribly burnt face", no "if only she wasn't scarred she would be beautiful", no "poor thing, lost her fingers in a horrific fire" - instead, she is beautiful, and she has scars, and she sure is having fun. That's it.

This is my best shot at explaining the difference between "fetishization" and "yeah they're pretty :-)" ft. my questionable writing - I hope this makes sense.

I definitely took my time to answer, sorry about that. Thank you for your ask!

mod Sasza

[cinnamoneve]

𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚.

atelophobia \ əˌtɛləˈfəʊbɪə \ (n.) - the fear of imperfection of not being good enough.

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x gn!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: satoru's been valued only what he could offer others, until he met you. ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 1.3k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: more of a self indulgent character study to get back into the swing of writing !!! pls enjoy <3 ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none :3

satoru gojo held many roles and titles in his life. he was a son, a sorcerer, teacher, role model, a special grade, the honored one, the strongest. the strongest. whatever that was supposed to mean.

he knew what it meant, sure, but the lines were blurred a bit around the parameters of what exactly his role was. he was satoru, gojo-san, gojo-sensei, and whatever sweet term of endearment you thought up for him. between that, satoru’s identity and purpose got muddled as the titles and meaning were ever-changing.

he didn’t feel a certain way about any of it, really. or so he thought. the one accolade satoru couldn't claim was being totally indifferent.

you almost admired that aspect of him. how his nose scrunched up when something he eats tastes off, how he played with his blindfold when he needed to get something off his chest. or maybe, it was the way his eyebrow twitched ever-so-slightly if you pronounce a word in a funny way. there is no subtle, subdued, or nonchalant bone in your boyfriend’s body. everything on his mind was said before his mouth even opened.

because of that, you knew satoru was happy to be home by the way he refused to leave your side. it’s rare he gets a decent break like this; his students had a week-long retreat in kyoto that he’d meet them at eventually. for now, he had some small ends to tie up on the homefront that he was dragging out so he could stay a bit longer with you.

satoru sat on the edge of the empty bath, admiring you as you did your skincare at the vanity. if his legs weren’t long enough to touch the ground, you imagined he’d be swinging them back and forth as he gushed about his students.

“...and maki beat mai in a one-on-one. again.”

you rolled your eyes as you clipped hair away from your forehead, “even i could’ve predicted that.”

“i don’t know why those two always find each other if they’ve got such a grudge,” 

you patted your face dry.

“it must be a sister thing,” you chuckled.

“something like that, i guess,”

“you’re not upset you’re missing it?”

satoru studied you in silence as he let the question linger a bit more. part of him was. maybe more than just part of him. he let out a hum as he thought about it.

“not really,” he concluded, “i want to be here,”

you smiled at him through the mirror as you caught his eyes. 

“it’s okay to be both, babe. be as selfish as you want,”

was it really okay for him to be selfish? nobody had ever told him before that the choice was his. even if it always was.

satoru had spent a lot of time being what other people said he should be. unfortunately, most aspects of his personality and day-to-day life were not decided by him. maybe it was atonement for the way he acts. could it be his fault? is it punishment for the gift he didn’t ask for? it’d be rich to still call it a gift. it was more like a plague, or a curse. something he had to bear and live with, master and hone. 

it was admired, it was hated. it controlled him, he controlled it.

everything he was, fundamentally, came from what he could provide.

satoru didn’t realize how exhausting it was until you came along and shared the burden with him. silently, lovingly, and effortlessly. maybe he was a little selfish. was it selfish to miss his kids in kyoto while having the love of his life in front of him? or maybe it was selfish to relish in the time at home and drag it out for one more minute with you.

being in between is lonely. 

but the loneliness will pass, just like time always does anyway. and being lonely with you is still being with you in the first place.

satoru sank into the empty bath, letting his body fold as he lay across the width of it. he sighs heavily and smiles, closing his eyes. his drama was unsurprising–all you can do is shake your head and take his place on the edge of the bath.

he peers up at you.

“selfish, huh?” 

you place your hand on his knee, thumbing over where it bends as a way to soothe him.

“mhm, why not?”

satoru tilted his head back, just barely, looking up at the bathroom fan as he tried to think about what to say next.

“i’d like to stay like this for a bit longer,”

you smile warmly at him.

“in the bath? clothed like this?”

it wasn’t about the empty bath. or the clothes he was wearing. just like how it wasn’t about him learning about your skincare routine. it was never about the stories of his students, or the way you always checked in on megumi. nor was it about how you took all of his clothes when you were cold, knew how he liked his coffee in the morning, or the way he made sure the bed was nice and warm before you joined him there.

it was so much more in so much less. in his worst moments, he was in a warm bed with you, hearing you talk about your refreshingly mundane day as you drew a nonsensical pattern on his chest.

everything he was came from what he could provide, right? that’s how it always was.

what he inherited preceded his name, his personality, and everything nuanced about him. nearly everyone in his life cared more about his ability than anything else about him. he’s convinced people knew his technique more than they knew his favorite color. the music he liked. his favorite food. trivial things overshadowed by what he could provide. 

but the only thing he had to provide to you was love.

to you, who he was came from what he could provide. and that was pure, warm love.

he was matching pajamas, two cups of coffee waiting to be filled, two toothbrushes sitting together on the counter. he was the seat warmer that he always turned on for you when you rode in the passenger seat, along with the playlist he made with songs you listened to together.

it was refreshing. 

with you, he wasn’t satoru gojo. not the strongest, not gojo-sensei, not a special grade sorcerer. 

he was him. and it was always enough for you. 

satoru when you were doubled over from another lame joke he told, begging him to stop making you laugh so hard.

baby when he had a particularly hard day at work, holding onto your body on the couch like detaching from it would kill him.

sweetie when he was being ridiculous, dramatic, and over-the-top, watching a smile tug at your lips as he intentionally got on your nerves when you tried to hide it.

honey when you didn’t feel well, and he got to spoil you more than you’d ever let him before.

among a million other things. but never what you expected of him. 

most importantly, and his favorite, was when you called him love. is that what you really saw him as? it made him melt. the jujutsu world hardened him, but you turned a blind eye to that. it was enough to make him fall in love every day all over again.

what a privilege, he thought, to be so calloused and still love.

“yeah, in the bath like this,” he muttered.

you slid in next to him, folding your body too so the two of you were sitting in the cold, empty bath with your legs sticking out of the side.

“well, i’ll join you then, love”

there it was. he hummed contently. 

satoru felt like for a majority of his life, he felt like he had to search for his other half. seemingly, he was whole all along.

all content © cinnamoneve 2024. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

[exlibrisseverus]

The torn bond of friendship

The silence between us every time we meet makes my heart ache.

You avert your gaze just so you don't have to look me in the eye. I know that you don't hate me. But to be honest, I'd rather have your hate than your pity.

You wish things had gone differently. But I can't change for you the way you would like me to. Nevertheless, you are important to me.

(You always will be.)

[I tried to put myself in his shoes and that's how these few lines came about. The background in the illustration is a photo I took, it's the view from my window.]

The artist's commentary – psychological aspect/my two cents…

->

Nobody is perfect, no human being is.

Especially not adolescent teenagers who literally have almost no idea about life. Who lack empathy, compassion, maturity, experience and so many other things. All of us have certainly lost a friend at some point in our childhood or adolescence. Close friendships at a young age and the experiences associated with them can have a strong influence on our behavior later in life. All of a person's first intensive relationships with family, friends, etc., whether positive or negative, shape their world view and character immensely.

We can't expect a young person to be flawless and perfect. Maturity comes with years and experience. It is not uncommon for children and youth to be self-centered and egocentric, but that does not make them bad people. To a certain extent, selfishness is even important. As we grow up, we learn to act autonomously, make decisions and form our own opinions. It is clear that we can make mistakes during this process and possibly hurt others. We all make mistakes on our journey through life, that is part of growing up. That is a part of this life.

I have to remind myself each time that they were practically still children as at that time.

Sorry for my poor English, it’s not my native language. I do my best though. Thanks for reading 🖤

(Additional edit 10.02.2024 Tumblr confuses me a little bit, i was wondering why my previous image lost it’s quality after uploading. It took me too long to draw and i need to show the details. Anyways for better detailed view -> I’ve split the artwork. 😌)

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

“Excuse me sir! There must someone you’ve confused me for!”

Having Angel withdrawal again sorry guys :/ its time for some uhh… prologue stuff?? I think thats right. Anyway! As I mentioned in this lovely post, when sinners die the time it takes for them to wake up in hell and where they wake up depends on how they died. So for Angels case his body was formed in hell in a hospital bed cause thats where he died so theres like fibres and metal in his body from being formed around a hospital bed! This is also going to go into how regenerating and how injuries work so get ready! Basically whatever your body was originally formed and made out of regenerates eventually, you can have scars if theyre really big (uncommon since the injury usually kills you) but if you die again in hell they go away. Angel gets injured quite a lot and none of these injuries are permanent. That isn’t to say you can heal by killing yourself though! If you do die while injured there may actually be lasting complications since bodies in hell are typically made to regenerate while gravely wounded. Its kind of like a fucked up computer so if you have a broken leg and die by say snapping your neck the body may get confused and regenerate bones and such incorrectly. Or it may not! Its hell who knows! Ill likely figure out a more concrete plan and way that it works but at the moment I enjoy this aspect of hell to not have a random cheat code and instead include some body horror. Its hell so like some stuff is probably confusing right??

Back to Angel, later on around season 1 in the rewrite he also has throat surgery to remove his deformed inner fangs and those DO actually stay gone because certain hospitals in hell (usually expensive ones) have tools from sloth that have been permitted by Lucifer. Similar to how Stolas got that lust portal gem or whatever. Angels body wasn’t supposed to form like that and this is a common thing to happen with sinners that die “long-term” and that sounds confusing but it really just means sinners that die in comatose-esque ways like Angel. His body was dying over the course of months (December to March to be exact) so parts of his body formed over complicated or were underdeveloped like the aforementioned fangs (that were originally meant to form inside of his mouth and not his throat) that would randomly bare themselves and stab his own throat, paralyzing Angel temporarily. Other examples would be parts of his legs and smaller stomach.

This is the surgery Angel got by the way (expenses covered by Velvette but thats a whole other plot line)

On top of this I also wanted to draw Angel’s old markings (at least one of them). Prior to Valentino, Angel looked much similar marking-wise to his original comic designs where he was more purple and yellow with all the fun skulls and stripes. Though, with how contracts work in my rewrite, Angel loses the markings and they change into hearts after his contract and cannot return to normal after his contract is terminated. The same is true for Husker and Niffty. This whole piece is really just supposed to capture to horror of waking up after being comatose and you’re suddenly not yourself anymore and also not where you were for the past months and your entire anatomy is changed. Can you imagine waking up without bones??? In 1947??? Id have a breakdown personally!

I also wanted to use green for that sick gross feeling. Kind of the dread you feel before throwing up, but also to represent Angel’s later feelings of envy that I was unable to present in his design. I really like pink characters in green atmospheres if you can’t tell. If I think of more stuff to add to this post I will, but for now it’s just a lot of lore. Hopefully you all enjoy it!

[ofstardustanddreaming]

hidden love

headcanon summary: gambit reacting to mutant gn crush who can hide their presence

content warnings: none

fandom: x-men/deadpool and wolverine

character: gambit x reader

anon request

a.n. - i'm so sorry if the accent doesn't come out quite right in writing, i've never really had a chance to write accents! please let me know if there's any improvement i can make :)

your power allows you to disappear in a sense, where you fade from existence seemingly. it created a problem when you were younger, where you felt cut off from your peers when you faded from lack of control over your powers. it was a feeling you took with you into your adult lifetime though, when you were recruited by charles into x-men to hone in on your skills. now you're better at disappearing when you want too, although it can subconsciously happen when you space out or get startled easily.

you still felt a bit ignored by your peers, although not unused to the feeling, but you were hoping to branch out and gain some family or close friends. it wasn't until remy showed up in your life that the feeling of being invisibile you got so used to changed. now it seems like others now had an easier time seeing you as well.

you initially ran into remy on the stairs, rounding the corner a bit too sharp, the resounding smack into his chest causing you to inhale a sharp breath. it's not like you meant too, your throat closing up at the idea you could get in trouble for this, the one time you're seen. you simply curled into yourself and you thought about hiding, and then simply vanish into the air. you couldn't help it - you bumped into a really attractive man you hadn't met before, feeling too incredibly embarrassed beyond your stuttering to offer a napkin or apologize to the man you caused to spill his coffee on himself.

"huh? cher?" he asks, looking around for where you could have possibly gone. he shrugs after a second, purple eyes glancing around, and walks away, back upstairs towards where you assume his room is to clean up. you come back into visibility after you're sure he's gone, a small smile on your face after hearing him speak, gaining a damning crush on a man you barely know. (you can only assume you haven't seen him before was because he just got recruited or he's been on a bit of a long mission away from here, long enough for you to be recruited a few months ago. which would make you feel worse if he just got back and you spilled his coffee on him.)

the next time you see him, you're both in the kitchen for breakfast. he glances your way where you're nervously making your coffee, not used to him continually looking at you, not through you. usually people give you a glance over, not able to really focus on you too much when you fade in and out because of a fear response towards conversation. something you've carried with you since childhood.

"ah, so you're the cher i've had the pleasure of running to, no?" he asks, his accent thick, pointing out to the slight disappearing act you have right now, fading slightly. you're mesmerized, hanging onto his words. which you're sure he notices, considering his smirk your way. he plays with his cards, as he waits for your response and the stovetop to heat up.

you nod though, focusing intently on stirring your coffee before you take a sip. he walks over to you, looking you up and down. it creates a nervous break in you, causing you and your mug to disappear completely now, another aspect of your power - you can cause certain objects you're holding to disappear as well, some bigger items needed more concentration you've found.

he holds his arm out, wondering if you could still be felt. and you let him, as he touches your shoulder, eyebrows raised. he thought your power is really cool, not hesitating to tell you so. it makes you feel warm, like you're finally seen as you come back into view.

and that was the beautiful start of your friendship. the both of you found any time you could to hang out, where you would spill everything to one another. you, talking about how scary it is for you to talk to others on the team because of your younger days, where others really never made connections with you because of your disappearing act. (he loves parading you around to the others, and they do really want to get to know you. it's just getting over the fear.) he also talks to you about his thieving guild days, thankful for your understanding and how you welcomed him with open arms.

he's also very flirty with you, although you think he's that way with everyone. you've seen how he is with rouge as well, and as someone with low self esteem, you assume that he only wants friends with you, and that he's just acting friendly with you. which you're okay with. (little do you know that he really likes you. he's just been practicing lines with rouge, and didn't realize you had overheard for those moments.)

it only took a few months after what you saw for you both to reveal your feelings for one another, which happened on one of your many missions together that went awry. you tend to fade in and out during fights based on what strategy is best, and you had faded to help a prisoner of the enemy escape by becoming invisible as well. an enemy saw you disappear though and took an educated guess to where you were and shot you. it causes you to come back into sight of remy who saw you get shot, falling to your knees.

remy rushes your way, throwing cards at the enemy who shot you, falling next down next to you. others took over the fight, one already close to finishing, so he's able to focus his attention on you to stem the bleeding. you've both never seen so much panic on the other's face like this, facing potential death and the fear of being unable to spend more time with another.

"oh, hold on mon cher. you'll be okay." he cradles your head with one hand, another on your waist. you grasp onto his wrists, vision fading, the last thing you hear is "je t'aime mon couer."

you come to eventually in the infirmary, vision fuzzy before it clears. you feel a weight in your hand, remy beside you sleeping in the uncomfortable chair next to the bed. his hand in yours. it makes you lightly smile, glad he was there. you tug on his hand, to signal you were up. he was quick to wake up, wanting to attend to your needs.

"oh, couer, you're finally awake now. ya need anything, anything i can do?" he hovers over you, hands stroking your face, feather light. you hold one of his hands, kissing his palm.

"just you. i love you too, you know." you tell him, and from there you both start your relationship, confessing to one another.

in the end, you're happy you're able to be with the man who can see you for you.

[buckgettingstruck]

here to ask about the camera panning to eddie. give me the freak answer pls

when i saw that shit airing i yelled and spilled wine on my carpet.

like. i feel like this is common sense but i dont know if people realize how intentional each second of a show/movie is. like whether the show is a silly sitcom or a serious drama everything is so intentional and purposeful. of course theres always continuity errors and mistakes that happen when you’re creating a show of that size thats been running for so long but for the most part everything has its intentions. its why you see certain themes come back again and again. im not gonna get into outfit meta or anything like that because its not really my wheelhouse but i did learn a lot about camera techniques and im a writer so. yeah.

shots are one of the most important aspects of a movie or a tv show. they set the mood. close up shots convey intensity and emotion while more wide shots establish a scene etc. they gave us a lot of close up shots of eddie’s face in the kim and eddie scene at the end of 7x09 because it was an intense moment for eddie as a character for example. you have to get the shot right to convey what you want your audience to see yknow.

so. you have the medal ceremony. they couldve done the announcements for these people in literally any order because they fucking wrote the script. they didnt do it alphabetically or anything normal they literally had the trio of triangulated desire standing in the back with buck in the middle AGAIN while chim and hen were being normal and serving cunt up front. and when they were sitting they had buck in the middle again because reasons. then once they got their medals itd pan to their families and significant others clapping. ofc for tommy they pan to buck because thats the person there supporting him. for BUCK they had so many options. they had bobby, his captain that he verbally said was his father figure the next episode, they had maddie, his fucking SISTER AND THE WOMAN WHO RAISED HIM, and they had tommy, the dude he’s dating. instead they pan to eddie.

literally that is the absolute LOUDEST fucking thing the show has done so far in my opinion. they panned to buck for tommy!!! they couldve panned back to buck or done it in a different order if they didnt wanna repeat so they could pan to them for each other!!! but they panned to eddie and the director of photography was even emphasizing that choice on twitter.

the entire bi arc had eddie written all over it. they had so many opportunities to shove their relationship to the side and double down on their friendship but they didnt. instead we had buck tweaking at the gym where we have no idea who eddie was even talking to on that phone, eddie constantly mentioned by buck in a kiss scene with someone else, the line of all time ‘MY attention?’, eddie interrupting the date next episode, buck not even giving a FUCK about the date because he lied to eddie, the shit maddie said that episode about being confused about his feelings, eddie saying nothing is gonna change between them (which. thats a chekov’s gun if ive ever seen one), and all the entire shit with the bachelor party. not even mentioning the implications of the song choice for the karaoke scene that paralleled madney because we didnt get it in the episode. they couldve completely avoided all of that but they didnt and then when buck is dating someone else they dont pan to HIM being happy and supportive for buck, they pan to EDDIE. it feels as if its supposed to remind us what’s actually going on or another attempt to clue us in

also like right after they had the two who were dating acting as acquaintances. and had that guy also kinda put buck’s excitement down at said ceremony. and later in that episode had buck ditch plans with the guy he was dating to make sure eddie was okay. for reasons i guess. so buddie canon or theyre doing a real bad job at getting me to care about bucks actual man

[incorrectbatfam]

If you could create and add a new DC character, what would they be like?

I'm going to tell you about David, and knowing you guys, you'll agree with me when I say he should have his own comic.

David has been my best friend literally since we were 8. He is the only constant I've had through my life. He introduced me to the drums and helped me get a motorcycle after I got my license. We are each other's platonic ride or die. If he asked me to bury a body, I'd do it no question, and I know he'd do the same for me.

That said, I clearly have the braincell in this friendship.

Don't get me wrong, he's smart in certain aspects. He's a talented musician, good athlete, taught himself to fix most plumbing issues, speaks decent Japanese, easily clicks socially, and is super empathetic. But in others, he's like a plate in a knife drawer.

Some highlights from over the years:

He ate the brown paper bag his lunch came in on a field trip

He thought hot chocolate was just cocoa powder (no milk or water) in a mug and the microwave would melt it. His sister had to call the fire department

He gave a stray dog his scarf for warmth and never saw that scarf again

He licked the dust off an XBox controller

He got a speeding ticket outside the DMV literally five minutes after getting his license

He made gender reveal cupcakes to come out to the rest of our friend group when we were 17, but he threw them into a Ziploc and they jostled around his backpack for half a day before lunch

He thought closing a browser tab would get rid of a computer virus

He tried hotboxing his own car while driving

He almost seasoned his food with pepper spray before someone stopped him

He had a tire swing on a tree in his backyard. He decided to stand on it while swinging and smacked his forehead against a branch in front of him. It was literally the most hollow thwock ever, as if confirming his lack of braincells. He then proceeded to get pissed off and punch the tree. He said it was his most gender-affirming experience

He brought me along on a family road trip and used me as a footrest in the car

He frequently writes drum tabs the way he'd write guitar ones (in short the two are very different kinds of sheet music and I'd need three hands to play them). He absolutely knows better. I think he's messing with me at this point

He mistook wasabi powder for matcha

He once got drunk at a frat party, crawled out the lawn of the house, and began eating grass like a cow

I wanted to know what kissing a dude was like out of curiosity and this was before he started physically transitioning, so to make it a more "authentic" experience, he gargled Gatorade beforehand

He tried to make his first battle jacket with washable Crayola markers

He also tried to dye his hair with his sister's watercolors

He's worn the same sweatshirt since he was 14 and I think I can count on one hand how many times I've seen him wash it (I was over at his house a lot)

He's the motherfucker that wears running shorts in the snow

He thought his area code would automatically change when we moved to a new state

He once kicked a soccer ball into an oncoming train

BONUS: when he came out to his parents, they were accepting and while he was at school, his dad mounted a fish on David's bedroom door because men I guess

So yeah, if I worked at DC, I'd insert David in the background of every comic just being his chaotic himbo self. David is beyond space and time. There could be a battle on fucking Oa and David would just be there doing a kickflip. That's who I'd choose.

[alice-after-dark]

Vox as an Abuse Victim

So here is that massive Vox post I promised, a day late for...reasons. I swear I have been working on this post for days, even before that StaticMoth discourse influx in my inbox.

After making my post about Vox and Angel and reading @deeply-unserious-fellow's post about a similar topic, I thought it might be finally time to make this post. Most people who have seen my content know how I typically portray StaticMoth. I have mixed feelings about Valentino at the best of times and outright dislike him at the worst. But frankly this post isn't actually about him (well, mostly). It's about Vox and why I am really hoping that Viv keeps the angle of Vox being an abuse victim.

TW for domestic abuse, physical violence, implied sexual abuse, abusive relationships, gaslighting/victim-blaming, and other canon-typical triggers. Contain abusive StaticMoth.

Honestly? The primary reason I hope she keeps it is because it would make him an even more complex character and bring attention to a criminally underrepresented group: abuse victims who are also bad people.

As pointed out in the post I tagged above, the world has become obsessed with this idea of a "palatable" victim, the poor suffering cinnamon roll. An abuse victim is expected to look like a victim. You're supposed to instantly feel sorry for them and want to protect them...but that's not so easy when the victim is someone who also hurts people, is it? It's not so easy to pretend they didn't do bad things too...but they are still a victim. That does not change just because they are a bad person. And thus it becomes complicated and interesting. Because it's not so easy to root for the victim when they're also victimizing others, especially when those others are people we care about...like Angel Dust. At the bare minimum, Vox is doing nothing to stop Valentino from abusing Angel or any of his other employees. Having Vox be a victim of the same abuse that Angel Dust suffers (at the hands of the same abuser no less) and yet also being someone who enables Angel's abuse creates a very complicated situation.

In a most media, the discovery of a mean/bad person being abused is frequently portrayed in a "well, they were abused so you can't be mad at them anymore" kind of light. Like "see? They're just an asshole because they were being abused! Now that we know, they're suddenly a good person!" Except that's not how it works. Someone can be a bad person and also be a victim. And even if them being an asshole was the result of their abuse, those behaviors and the consequences of those behaviors don't just vanish. They still hurt people and frankly I would riot if it came out that Vox was being abused by Valentino and then everyone in the show just up and forgave him for being an asshole. Like...no? He would still need to make up for his own shit and actually work towards being a better person. I like this character because he's an unapologetic asshole. If making him a victim takes that away, then that would be such a missed opportunity.

In fact, one thing I find interesting is that I definitely believe that Vox would have no problem admitting to being a bad person, but would rather fight an exorcist alone than admit to being a victim. His ego won't allow for it. He would probably laugh in your face and call you delusional while literally having a broken screen. Because he can't admit it, even to himself. He would see it as a sign of weakness and that's not acceptable to him (side note that being a victim does not make you weak, that's just what Vox's toxic mindset tells him). While I am fairly certain that he would have moved on from most 1950s mindsets since he is all about the future and progress and moving forward, toxic masculinity is still very much a thing today and I can definitely see him embodying it in some aspects, like needing to appear strong and in control at all times (and Hell's power hierarchy definitely encourages this mindset, so...). Fuck, even now in fucking 2024, men still have a hard time being taken seriously as the victims of abuse. Unless of course you fit a certain mold.

Angel Dust is the perfect example of this. He is a palatable male victim. He's effeminate, he's funny, he's friendly, he's caring, and we actively see him miserable in his suffering. Despite being in Hell just like the rest of them and having been a former mafia member and clearly able to stand on his own two feet it combat, his victimhood is constantly on display and the audience wants to protect and save him. On the opposite end, Vox is shown in a position of power that is constantly reinforced. He's an Overlord, he's manipulative, he's cruel, he's greedy, and he enables abusive behavior from others. He is not a palatable victim, which is why it's perfect.

Now let's get into what I believe is the actual evidence that this dynamic could still be present.

Something I see people commonly say is that Vox being abused by Valentino doesn't make sense because why wouldn't Vox just fight back? He could just shock Valentino into next Tuesday? And to these people I kindly say fuck you. Because while physical strength can be a factor in abuse, it is very rarely the thing that keeps the victim from leaving. Abuse, even when physical, is heavily psychological. It's like telling a victim "well, why didn't you just leave?" It's not that easy. Abusers tend to target those with low self-esteem and it's made pretty clear that Vox is a very insecure person (I feel the need to point out that having an ego and having high self-esteem are not the same thing, in fact having a big ego is typically a side effect of very low self-esteem). It's entirely possible that Vox makes the conscious decision not to fight back because he's afraid of what will happen if he does. He's afraid Valentino will leave. We know Valentino is just as mentally and emotionally abusive to those around him as he is physically abusive and we have actively witnessed him playing into Vox's insecurities and mentally messing with him (specifically in the events leading up to "Stayed Gone").

So let's talk about the scene leading up to "Stayed Gone," because I also see Vox's behavior towards Valentino here used as justification for why it's not possible for Valentino to be abusing Vox. Full disclosure, I myself in the past have even thought that it demonstrated them being mutually abusive towards each other, but have since changed my opinion after reading more takes and doing further analysis. Having rewatched this scene many times now, I have some observations.

There's a small moment that always caught my attention when I watched this scene because I wasn't sure what it meant, but looking at it in the context of this post, I think I can see a possibility. When Vox goes to see Valentino, he approaches the doors and they are opened for him by Valentino's servants. Vox pauses in the doorway, glances at them, then continues on inside.

What was the point of this moment? It seems out of place. Surely Vox has gone to Valentino's room before? Surely this door opening thing isn't new? And looking at Vox's face here, he looks...concerned? Like...they might hear what goes on inside? And he maintains that expression even as he enters the room, like he doesn't like that those two are out there and might hear them.

It also makes the entire situation feel so routine. Like Valentino is upset and these girls just expect Vox to show up and take care of it. And the scenes prior to this also sets it up as a normal occurrence. Vox rearranges his entire schedule to deal with Valentino, like he absolutely expects this situation could take up the rest of his day. And Valentino clearly doesn't listen to Velvette in this regard as she had to call Vox to come deal with Valentino despite him wrecking her department. Her comment even further establishes this as normal when she tells Vox that Valentino is "up in his tower, waiting for a flat-faced prince to calm him down." And when Vox arrives? "FUCKING FINALLY!" All of this sets up a standard situation: when Valentino is upset, it is Vox's job to calm him down and make him feel better. Valentino is a full grown adult and yet he has made it someone else's problem to manage his emotions.

Then of course we have the classic moment of Valentino literally throwing his glass at Vox only seconds after Vox has arrived. And this has to have been a conscious decision, because right before that, he throws his first glass on the ground before demanding another. So if he wanted to just break something, he didn't need to throw it at Vox, but he did. And I definitely don't think he cared if Vox got out of the way or not. But how easily Vox moves aside tells us that he fully expected to have things thrown at him and was ready for it. Now, I do believe that Valentino would throw shit at literally anyone when he is mad, but the key here is that Vox, his supposed friend, on-and-off lover, and business partner, is not exempt from this behavior. He even breaks Vox's phone when he realizes Vox is not paying attention to him. He has no qualms breaking Vox's property just to soothe his rage (I would also like to point out that he fucking obliterated that thing; just how hard did he fucking throw it?!).

Something in this scene that did initially throw me as I was writing this is that Vox doesn't seem particularly afraid of Valentino. Not the way we see Angel is when Valentino gets angry. We also see him actively get angry with Valentino, get in his face, and manipulate him. In the past, I believed this behavior from Vox to have established their relationship as mutually abusive. However, after reading yet another post from @deeply-unserious-fellow, I realized that everything Vox does here is only in direct response to Valentino's tantrum.

So let's go through some things here. When Vox initially tries to tell Valentino he can't go to the hotel, Valentino straight up ignores him. Does not respond to Vox's words, completely carries on like he didn't even speak. From this point on, Vox takes an entirely different approach to the situation. He manipulates Valentino into thinking that not shooting up the hotel is his idea and even offers further appeasement in the form of shooting his own employees as a method to satisfy Valentino's temper. I admit to initially viewing this as Vox being abusive, but frankly, when your options are being manipulative or letting your business partner go shoot up a hotel that houses the literal Princess of Hell, yeah, I'd take the manipulation route. Because, as I pointed out above, Vox cannot actually control Valentino. He tries to give him an order and is completely ignored. And even when he does successfully manipulate him, he still has to appease him in some capacity.

Now, there's also something here that is often played for shits and giggles, but I'm taking it 100% seriously right now. Many people point out that Vox's screen gets brighter when he gets in Valentino's face. Valentino is a moth demon and after Vox does this, he seems to be dazed for a moment, enough for Vox to rapidly switch back into manipulator mode and does his thing. It seems to have snapped Valentino out of his rage and I literally can't help but think that Vox has learned this as a defense mechanism. Valentino can't see very well, so it's very likely Vox's hypnotism doesn't work on him, so Vox had to find other ways of manipulating him and calming him down when he's in one of his rages.

Something I also want to point out is that it is made very clear through a single solitary moment that Valentino is in no way afraid of Vox. When he tells Vox about Alastor, Vox screams in his face, manhandles him, and Valentino just...pushes him off and saunters away, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. He doesn't even look upset or concerned when Vox grabs him. He just...laughs it off...like he knows Vox won't actually hurt him. Because I genuinely think Vox won't. Later in the episode, we hear Valentino's voicemails to Angel Dust and how he's emotionally manipulating him, telling him he can't really get better. I wouldn't be surprised to find that he's given Vox a similar treatment, especially considering that it's obvious Valentino knew what kind of reaction he would get out of Vox by bringing up Alastor. And sure, he brushes it off with a kink joke, but in all seriousness, why did Valentino keep Alastor's return from Vox? We know Angel has been at the hotel for a little while and Alastor has been involved with it as of a week prior to the beginning of season 1, so why suddenly bring it up? It's almost like he was specifically holding onto this information, waiting for the perfect time to use it that would be the most beneficial to him.

There's also another little scene that always caught my attention. It's when Valentino is getting pissed about the shadow construct that Angel Dust is flirting with.

Valentino starts getting pissy again, demands Vox's attention, gets annoyed when he doesn't get it, then immediately switches to mocking and confident when Vox starts bitching about Alastor. Like...he's so fucking proud of himself for getting Vox all worked up over Alastor. Like it's some kind of game for him. Riling Vox up and messing with his emotions is fun for Valentino. Alastor dredges up some real shit for Vox and Valentino exploits it. And from here on, he just keeps egging him on. Now, I'm pretty sure "Stayed Gone" would have happened with or without Valentino, but the point here is that he is definitely playing with Vox's emotions here.

As for the not being afraid aspect, again, Valentino hasn't actually threatened him with something that truly scares him. I don't think he's afraid of what Valentino could physically do to him. It's more likely to make him mad than anything else, even if he doesn't fight back (he'll probably go take out his anger on someone else). The thing about Vox is that we see that he does not like to appear weak in any capacity and I think this extends well into his own psyche. If he admits, even to himself, that he's a victim...to him, that's admitting weakness and he just can't do that. So Valentino's not abusing him, they just had a fight. He didn't hit back because he's in control of himself and he knows he could totally toast Valentino. It's Vox's own fault for pushing his buttons when he knew Valentino was mad. It wasn't rape cause he never said "no".

TLDR: Vox can be both an asshole and an abuse victim and it would be a really interesting aspect to his character as long as the show does it right and doesn't scrap his assholeness to make him a more palatable victim. Show him being a victim and also victimizing others. Show him not wanting to accept that he has been abused. LET PEOPLE BE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH FEELING SORRY FOR HIM.

(that's all for now, I have literally been working on this post for days and I'm exhausted)