#that's the only part of lost days i am willing to praise tho the rest is still shit

[roobylavender]

What’s one thing you think people get so wrong about Jason Todd and his relationship to Bruce and Talia? What is your interpretation of it? Should Jason work away from the Batfamily or it is it where he needs to be? Who should Jason be close to?

i will try to be brief.

i want to preface first that i think what jason's progression as the red hood has led people to believe is he's emotionally impenetrable and impervious to any and all forms of reason. which on a surface level i get why that would be the assumption bc i mean what he does to become the red hood and then executes as the red hood is quite insane and gives the impression of a ledge you can never walk back from, but (and you know i'm beating a dead horse with this) crucially i think what people forget is that jason is barely eighteen or nineteen years old when he makes his grand return. and as someone in her mid-twenties, an eighteen year old is still very much a child to me. i have a seventeen year old brother and when i think about the kind of mental, emotional place someone his age would have to be in to do the things that jason does, i imagine it to be quite volatile and unstable and perilously vulnerable to collapse. is jason in the wrong with what he does? unequivocally. he has no right to play god regardless of his reasons for it. but his reasons for it are also very clearly driven by trauma even if that response to trauma is packed into some deluded semblance of practicality, in that he's using his ends to justify his means. he's clearly operating from a standpoint of knowing death intimately and understanding the terror of that moment where you're alone and you have no one but the force beating down on you making sure you don't survive, and he believes no one innocent should ever be made to feel that. so there is a clear, coherent thought process there. but it's still driven by a personal, traumatic experience that has inspired him towards this cause, and to bring it back to your first question, i really hate that people act like that can't be worked with to help him heal and reform, esp with bruce and talia's help

my biggest problem with the way winick portrays the relationship between jason and talia is that he presents the same caveats as most modern writers who tackle talia: they don't understand what sets ra's and talia apart. talia is in pursuit of the same ends as ra's, but her means aren't aligned and her questioning his means at the expense of her loyalty to him is what drives them apart. she's not a nihilist, she will only kill those people who have harmed her family first, and she doesn't fraternize with debased criminals with no sense of morality (remember, she believes what ra's is doing is right and noble. he's a couple notches up from your standard villains bc, yes, he's utterly deranged, but there's also a level of class to his schemes that makes it less about targeting individuals and more about enacting a large scale environmental renaissance, even if it's utterly delusional). she can assassinate and she can scheme bc it's what she's grown up learning to do but she doesn't actually enjoy doing any of it. so yes, a lot of people like to reason that talia sends jason to learn from all of these despicable teachers to prevent him from killing bruce, but realistically i don't think she ever would. she values human life and she values children and i seriously doubt she would throw a child into that kind of education knowing the kind of trauma he's already been through. sending jason to these teachers and shaping him into a weapon for potential use while allowing him some leg room to pursue his own agendas, so long as he does not stray too far, is way more up the ra's alley, and i think most of what happens in lost days after jason comes back from his failed attempt on bruce's life would make more sense if it was orchestrated by ra's

talia to me should be the person who watches in horror as jason evolves into someone she knows he was never meant to be and whom it would break bruce's heart to see, despite her own efforts to imbibe him with love and learning and compassion. she should be the person who tries her best to hold him back from the demon's influence as much as she can and who hates to see him go bc she fears in her heart that she hasn't done enough. she should be the person who completes her tenure at lex corp, exhausted, isolated, embittered, only to turn on the news and see the red hood on every screen, then march her way over to gotham to make it right before it all truly goes to hell. she should be the person who makes it to the building with jason and bruce and the joker and the bomb and hides in a corner with a gun trained to the joker's heart, and the second that bomb threatens to go off she pulls the trigger and ends it forever. she should be the person who drags jason away from it all and takes him someplace where she can break the helmet on her knees and look into his eyes and tell him that there has to be more to his life than just this, than deciding to play god and taking these lives away at his leisure as if it will solve anything about himself or about the world. she should be the person who asks him to remember his parents again and asks him to remember that he's barely a man and asks him to remember that there was a time where he was loved, that he still is loved. she should be the person to help him break free, bc the guilt of allowing him to remain chained to his past would hold her down like a deadweight otherwise and i doubt she could live with herself

wrt bruce. i honestly truly despise the way bruce is written throughout the entirety of under the red hood. i understand it is working in context of war games and bruce's horrific tenure with stephanie as his robin but truly i will never read those comics ever bc the minute bruce started being utterly heartless towards stephanie is when i put the books down and decided i was content with whatever i had read up until that point and would be content with exploring rather than putting myself through progressively more and more awful depictions of bruce as a character. i like bruce a lot. i agree he is incredibly flawed, a poor communicator, pathetically clingy, emotionally repressed to a frightening degree, etc. but to me the bedrock beneath all of that is that bruce cares. he cares to the point of utter devotion and delusion and is caught in this struggle of caring about his kids and wanting to give them everything that he has to offer but having to hesitate and reconsider when the path they take as his partners poses threats to their life. he can't take back the mantle that he's given them and he can't hold them back from their destiny but he's still a frightened parent with deep regrets over his line of work even if he believes in it and i think, for however boring and slow of an overall arc it is, knightfall is utterly fabulous at depicting that. the sheer devastation and grief that permeates bruce in this culmination of everything that has built up to jason's death and bruce's sense of his own failure in the aftermath is so tragic, and it shocks me that we don't even see a glimpse of that in under the red hood when it's hardly been a year or two since

i have talked about it somewhere before, but to go on a slight tangent, what distinguishes dick and bruce to me is that dick is slightly better at compartmentalizing his own grief and trauma. he knows he has to perform as a leader so he doesn't let things get in the way of his own execution despite however much grief and anger and confusion he may be roiling in. he will be utterly unlikeable in the moment, but he'll get the job done with complete clarity of mind bc that's how seriously he's learned to take it. bruce, comparatively, is someone who i honestly do not believe can compartmentalize for shit. he lets his emotions make a mess of themselves on his lawn. he broods. he falls into deep depressions. he isolates. he devolves into pathetic meow meowism (derogatory). so it's odd that his characterization in under the red hood is so detached and cold, bc sure, he'll obv question the possibility of resurrection. but once he confirms that it's all real, i feel like his reaction should be.. way more emotional. devastated. desperate. delusional. anything to get his son back whom he adores more than anything and to help him understand that he is still so loved and will be loved forevermore if he would only give life another chance. the best thing about bruce used to be that he cared. he cared so much and it was so easy for him to reach out to people, esp children, out of a deep sense of compassion and understanding of how frightened they felt at the other end of a gun barrel. he was a little awkward with it, and sometimes he didn't know what to do with himself, but he cared, and i refuse to believe he wouldn't do everything in his power to help jason heal. him prioritizing the joker over jason genuinely makes no sense and i wish any writer had taken the time to have someone relay to jason that bruce tried to kill the joker but it was other people who stopped him, bc that feels like a very significantly left out detail to me

as for the last thing to address since i have already rambled for so long i will actually try to be brief here but personally i do think he should stay in gotham, he should just have his own sphere separate of like. the cave and the manor. i really want him to work with leslie and barbara and even talia on the side towards community upliftment initiatives and for him to slowly phase out of vigilantism entirely. i realize that is an incredibly unpopular opinion bc everyone loves jason going pew pew but i really do think he's a character who was meant for retirement and to explore more with his life from the outset and that it would make so much sense for him to find a way to pursue justice that's still important and centered on his community but that doesn't come at the cost of his own sanity and doesn't have him trying to play god bc he comes to recognize it's wrong (esp in context of what happened to his own father). there once was a life that he wanted to live and he deserves to live it and i'm honestly tired of fandom acting like the only natural conclusion to his character arc is for him to remain a forever removed classist murderer who will never achieve closure with anyone ever bc then he doesn't get to continue being an edgelord. it's stupid and it's why he hasn't grown as a character despite being here for like eighteen years now. the red hood really should have been a temporary identity at best i truly hate that we are forever stuck with it

[navegandoaciegas]

Crybaby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader (College AU)

Warnings: smut, ass fingering, orgasm denial, humiliation, lots of talks about panties.

Summary: You catch Bucky trying to steal your panties on laundry day.

A/N: this is partly @buckycuddlebuddy​ ‘s fault tbh. Enjoy some desperate, horny Bucky. Minors DNI.

The timer on the dryer unit you’d occupied went off, signaling that your weekly load of laundry was dry and ready. Bucky cast a nervous glance around the eerily empty room, fingers twitching in the front pocket of his hoodie.

He knew it was wrong, but his laundry was done too (just a coincidence, really, not like he’d wake up at 3 am on a Monday because he knew you did your washing around that time), and you weren’t there yet. You usually retrieved your load in the morning anyways.

Just a peek, he reasoned. Out of curiosity. You wouldn’t even realize they were missing, and if you did you’d chalk it up to the washing machine eating your clothes.

You’d show up to class on Tuesday and sit next to him while he’d be wearing your pretty lace panties and you’d be none the wiser.

Fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about it.

He dug in your laundry, sifting through mascara stained washcloths and an endless amount of oversized t-shirts, until he found what he’d been looking for.

Small, so tiny in fact that he wondered how your lips could fit in them. He groaned -the idea of your pussy hanging out of the material made his cock twitch, and brought the panties to his face, rubbing his nose all over the lace. He’d fantasized of burying his face between your legs all semester long, and this seemed close enough, the closest he could get to you anyways.

They seemed stretchy, and he hoped he could manage to stuff himself inside them.

“Didn’t peg you for a panty sniffer, Barnes.”

The world stilled around him, the ring in his ears so loud that he wondered if you could hear it too.

He was so engrossed in his creeping, that he hadn’t heard the door open and click shut, nor your steps as you walked behind him, or the slight groan that the washing machine behind him emitted when you settled on it, swinging your legs.

Slowly, he turned around, your lace panties still tightly clutched to his chest.

You almost chuckled at the sight of his bulging eyes and gaping mouth. Almost.

“That- it’s not- not how it looks like- I-”

“What, you were gonna fold my laundry for me? How considerate,” you sneered, but the look on your face was far from disgust.

Derision, sure, but not disgust. The mischievous interest in your eyes sent chills down his spine, not necessarily the good kind.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, anticipating whatever consequence his actions would have.

“You do this often?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, naked legs still swinging over the washing machine.

Bucky couldn’t find the words, and honestly the gall, to speak, so he just shook his head vehemently, shuffling on his feet.

“Hm, you like sniffing ‘em?”

He remained unmoving, too humiliated to do anything.

“Oh, I got it,” you beamed, pointing a finger at him and squinting your eyes, “You like touching yourself with pretty panties, hm? Like using them to fuck your dick, and cum all over ‘em?”

He wanted to answer, tell you to fuck off and sprint away to hide in his dorm for the rest of his life, but honestly he deserved this and so much worse. He almost considered dropping out of college entirely, but that glint in your eyes kept him anchored to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, keeping his gaze on his white sneakers, “I-, I promise, I never done it before, I don’t know why-, look I won’t do it again, I swear,” he pleaded, tears pooling in his crystal eyes and threatening to stream down his face.

You cooed, honest to God coeed, a mocking pout on your lips.

You should have left, and reported him, but those pretty tears of his, the tremble in his voice, the stuttered pleas, only served to spur you on, a familiar warmth building up in your core.

“I bet if word got out of this, no one would want to hang around the resident creep anymore. Good luck getting girls then. Although, well, I don’t think you get too many under normal circumstances, do you?” you snorted, “That would be embarrassing, hm? Wouldn’t want that, would you?”

He found himself shaking his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat to avoid giving you any more reason to mock him.

“It’s your lucky day then, because I have no intention to tell anyone,” you announced, stepping down to lean against the machine, arms crossed over your stomach.

“You- you don’t?” he wondered.

The notion should have elated him, but he felt himself growing more uneasy and confused with the smirk on your face.

“Won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Cross my heart,” you laughed, making a show of placing a hand on your chest.

He eyed you suspiciously. “Why?”

“Where’s the fun in that, Barnes? I wouldn’t enjoy bullying you if I’m not the only one doing it,” you chirped, “That doesn’t mean that my forgiveness should come for free, tho.”

His breath hitched, and you followed his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down his throat.

You could feel the control in your grasp, panties getting wetter with each one of his tears.

“I’ll do anything,” he swore, and you almost wished he’d fall on his knees and beg.

“Anything you say, huh?” you paused, “Strip,” you commanded, leaning back against the washing machine.

Bucky furrowed his brows and looked up in confusion, then disbelief, finally embarrassment. “Wh- what? But, but what if someone sees, I-”

“Then you better hurry.”

“But I-”

“You fuckin’ heard me the first time.”

He was startled into action, hands hastily pulling at his hoodie and jeans until he was standing in nothing but socks and underwear.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself again.”

He gulped visibly, and hesitated before hooking his fingers around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs.

He blushed harder, ducking his head.

His cock sprung out of his boxers, and the mouthwatering sight of it had you reconsidering Bucky Barnes and all your life choices during this semester.

He was glistening in pre cum, painfully hard and veiny, and definitely thick enough that fitting it inside your cunt would be hard work on both parts. You imagined taking him in your mouth, how you would definitely choke around his girth, and your jaw would be sore for days.

Not today, though. Bad boys did not get that kind of privilege.

You bit your lips, and Bucky fought the impulse to squirm under your intense gaze.

“Something wrong?” he rasped out, praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole in case you found him too small, too crooked, too hairy.

You snorted, eyebrows raised skeptically. “Yeah, babe, the fact that I haven’t seen you naked before. You been hiding all this,” you eyed his crotch suggestively, “from me all this time?”

“T- thanks,” he stuttered, offering you a small smile, eyes trained on the ground. He tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered when you called him an endearing term, reminding himself that this was all a game to you, a game that he was more than willing to play if it ended up with his cock buried deep inside you.

You sighed then, pondering your thoughts. He was not your usual type, but he was cute in a nerdy way, shy and quiet, and he was packing more than any other man you’d had before.

Plus, this was way too entertaining for you to pass up.

“Wear ‘em.”

Bucky’s head snapped up at the command, but this time he did not hesitate to follow your instructions, a bit too eager as he slid the panties up his thighs.

The shutter of your phone’s camera brought him out of his thoughts, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw you take pictures of him. He trusted you wouldn’t spread them around, but the thrill of danger had him leak more pre cum, wetting a patch on the lace.

“So that’s your deal? You like wearing panties? Didn’t even try to act like you didn’t want to,” you snickered, “What a whore.”

The situation couldn’t get more humiliating, and he couldn’t get more desperate for you.

“Be a good boy, Bucky. Fold the laundry for me, since that’s clearly what you meant to do,” you laughed scornfully, nodding to the basket at your feet.

He walked to you slowly, bending over to pick it up, and yelped when you slapped his ass harshly, the sound bouncing off the walls and shooting straight to his aching cock.

“Cute. Now go, you got something to do and I don’t have all night.”

He sighed, and got to work, unloading each item from the dryer, and folding it neatly.

You eyed the lines of his back, the round globes of his ass, the string of your thong dipping between his cheeks. You almost lost yourself imagining how pretty he would look all scratched and marked before you furrowed your brows, observing the way he folded on of your nicer shirts that you wore on interviews and internships.

“Can’t even fold laundry, look at you,” you tsked, shaking your head, “Try that again, I don’t want to spend more than necessary ironing it.”

He obeyed, without any protest, smoothing the creases he’d created, and continuing with your load, until the dryer was empty and you were satisfied.

“Good job, baby boy,” you praised, beckoning him over.

He got closer, close enough that you could feel the heat emanating from his body. He looked so pretty like that, all teary and obedient.

You wanted to make him yours and ruin him for everybody else.

“You’re a fuckin’ pervert, you know that? A creep and a pervert.”

You saw the way his cock twitched behind your lace at the words, and almost doubled over in laughter.

The night couldn’t get any better.

“Fuck, you really are a pervert. This what you get off to? You imagine me calling you names, degrading you like the bitch you are? You want to be humiliated, don’t you?”

A desperate, pathetic whine escaped his throat, and he felt his knees growing weak with need. He was naked in a public space where everyone could see him, being belittled and humiliated by the girl he’d been pining over, and he was hard as a rock, getting off every word that spilled out of your mouth.

“Well,” you purred, fisting the hair at the back of his neck and tugging harshly, “I think we can arrange that.”

“Yes, yes, please, I want it,” he whimpered, chest heaving, “I want you, I’m your slut, I-, you can do whatever you want to me.”

You almost moaned then, intoxicated by his burning desire.

“Good boy,” you hummed, releasing his hair to stroke his cheekbone, smiling at the way he leaned his head against your palm, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“Remember you can tell me to stop or slow down whenever you want, and I will. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” you added more serious, observing his face for any trace of anything but enthusiasm.

When you found none, and he nodded feverishly, you let your hand fall from his cheek to his shoulder, tracing the outlines of his lean muscle.

“Can- can you kiss me, please?” he asked, and he begged so prettily that you could do nothing but humor him, crashing your lips against his.

It was messy, rough. He was sloppy, and from the way he moved against you, you guessed he didn’t have too much experience.

Better, you reasoned. You’d teach him all he needed to know to please you, and you only.

You bit on his bottom lip, and Bucky yelped in surprise, parting his lips.

He tasted like mint on your tongue, and you sighed in content, letting your hands travel down his sides, barely grazing his skin, scratching the hair on his belly.

He shuddered under your touch, goosebumps erupting in your wake.

When you reached his lower stomach, you felt him tense, his breathing getting harder, his tongue more insistent.

He was drooling and crying, you realized, as he snapped his hips against your leg, humping you like a dog.

You broke away from the kiss, catching your breath.

“Look at you, you gettin’ real worked up and I barely even touched you. What are you, a fuckin’ virgin?” you chuckled, playing with the little bow on the front of your panties.

You’d expected him to laugh, or deny, but he just stood there awkwardly, avoiding your gaze,

“I’m not,” he grumbled, avoiding your gaze.

“Then why are you acting like one?” you prodded, but didn’t wait for him to answer, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss.

His hesitant hands groped your breasts, finally gaining the confidence to do more than linger awkwardly on your hips. He twirled your stiff nipples, rubbing his thumbs over them, movements getting more frenzied the closer he got to his release.

He crouched awkwardly to be at your chest level while still pressing his hips onto you, and tugged your loose tank top down, moaning at the sight of your tits.

“Go on baby, suck on my tits.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement to assault your nipples, latching his mouth onto one of them, and suckling. You wondered if he’d ever even touched a pair of boobs before, but his ministrations were working either way, making your walls clamp down on nothing.

You finally grasped him in your hand, his cock heavy and throbbing in your palm as you stroked him lazily, spurred on by his little whimpers.

His whole body quivered when you ran your thumb over his slit, and you marvelled at his sensitivity.

“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?” you moaned in his ear, “I bet you do, I bet you could cum already just from this. Just a handjob, like the pathetic little boy you are, hm?”

He released your tits with a wet pop, and rose to full height again, resting his forehead on yours.

“Yes, yes, please,” he sobbed, “please, princess, more.”

You complied, doubling your efforts. He inhaled sharply when you added your other hand and began twisting both your wrists in opposite directions.

“You want your princess to suck your dick, baby? Want me to get on my knees and take you in my mouth?”

He nodded against you, grinding his hard cock against your hand, desperate to chase his release.

“Or maybe you want your princess’ pretty pussy? You want to fill me with your fat cock and stuff me full of your filthy cum, don’t you?”

He began blabbering, breathing harder, sloppily snapping his hips. He had a look of pure bliss on his face, his eyes shut tightly, mouth hung open and a layer of sweat coating his forehead.

You could feel him grow and throb in your hand, and just before he was about to reach his high, you stopped your hands.

His eyes shot open and he opened and closed his mouth to protest, but you gave him no time, fisting his hair and slamming him against the washer, bending him over the cold surface.

“What, you thought I’d catch you stealing my panties and I’d let that go?” you tutted, bending over him, pressing your front to his back, whispering in his ear “Bad boys need to be punished, don’t you agree?”

A choking sound escaped his parted lips, and you giggled against his skin, licking a strip behind his neck.

You let your hands wander down the expanse of his back, settling on the waistband of your panties. You indulged yourself again, slapping his ass because you liked how it jiggled and how Bucky whined.

“You have a nice ass, you know,” you mused, slouching back to get a good vision of it, “You ever had anyone stick anything up there?”

“W-what?” he sputtered, crooning his head to look at you, “N-no, never.”

“Cute.”

He squirmed in embarrassment when you spread his cheeks, groaning when he felt your spit drip down on him. You massaged a finger around his rim, your hand coated in your spit and his pre cum.

“Relax, I’ll make you feel really good, promise.”

You gradually felt his muscles relax under your touch as you soothingly ran a hand down his back and kept whispering calming, sweet nothings in his ear.

Then, you dipped a finger past the rim.

“See, not that bad, huh?” you smiled, working your finger inside him, caressing his walls.

You nipped the skin of his back, peppering his muscles with fluttering kisses, grazing your teeth over his column.

You dipped another in, and Bucky hissed, wiggling his legs.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you shushed him, “You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

He preened under your praise, and you began scissoring your fingers inside his ass, working him open and looking for the spot you knew would make him beg for more.

The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, your pussy desperate to be stuffed full of his cock.

You loved how pliant Bucky was being, obedient and submissive in your grasp. You noticed the tears that hadn’t stopped streaming down his face, and huffed a laugh.

“A pervert, a slut, and a fuckin’ crybaby, aren’t you?” you mumbled, a genuine smile tugging at your lips.

“Fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, holding onto the washing machine for dear life, tongue lolling out of his mouth, drool dripping down his chin, making it known that you’d found what you’d been looking for.

“Yes, fuck, please princess, gimme more,” he begged, overwhelmed with a pleasure like he’d never experienced before.

He felt like a fire had been lit in his lower belly, and it was spreading to every limb, encompassing him whole.

You grasped his cock in one of your hands while your fingers kept pummeling into his ass, feeling the rim clench around you and his cock pulsate.

You thought you could cum from his beautiful sounds alone, and you kept going until you were sure he was on the verge of a mind shattering orgasm.

Then, you stopped again, and this time Bucky sobbed, blabbering and wailing, begging you.

“Please princess, I’ll do anything, just please let me cum, please, please,” he continued, shamelessly bucking his hips against nothing.

You released his cock and pulled your fingers out of his ass, cleaning the fluids against his panties.

“You’re so fuckin’ pathetic, begging like that,” you mocked him, retrieving your phone from the pocket of your shorts.

You snapped a couple of photos of him bent over the washing machine, pent up and debauched. His balls hung from the lace of your panties, and you made sure to zero on his tear stained face.

“So pretty, my pretty crybaby,” you cooed, helping him stand up again.

He fell on his knees, clutching the hem of your t-shirt.

“Please, you can’t leave me like this, I-, please,” he blabbered.

You committed the image to memory, knowing you’d see it again soon.

You could see it in his eyes how hooked he was to you.

“Baby, bad boys don’t get to cum, do they? You can’t go around stealing people’s laundry,” you tutted, lightly slapping his cheek, “You deserve some punishment, don’t you agree?”

He hesitantly nodded, slumping down on his shins. You grasped his chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze.

“You got to bed now, no touching, and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll know if you disobeyed, and trust me, you don’t want to know what’s gonna happen if you did.”

You smiled, and took a few steps back to retrieve your basket, leaving him to catch his breath on the floor.

“See you tomorrow at 4 pm, you know where my dorm is,” you chirped despite your own neglected arousal, sauntering to the door, “Get dressed before someone comes in, you wouldn’t want to see how much of a pervert you are, right?”

He shook his head, agreeing with you despite the sobs that silently shook through his body.

“Good boy,” you purred, hand twisting the knob. You paused, and threw him a look over yourself, “Oh, and thank you for the laundry.”

-

I hope you liked this! Please leave some feedback if you can! ❤️

[sisterofleatherfrog]

Star Wars Kinktober day- 1

Prompt: Symbolic jewelry

Sub! Tup x Female (AFAB) OC

Hello! Willkommen to the grand opening of me doing Kinktober (even if this post is a few hours late for the actual 1st 😅)! Here is my prompt list derived from Kinktober lists by @ink-and-flame. Their prompt lists are phenomenal, but for the sake of my ADHD I had to whittle it down into a more finite list of interests that I am comfortable writing and know at least a little about it, or else I’ll just get lost in the sauce of prompts! But seriously, go check out their lists, they’re incredibly varied and have something for everyone! 

And now without further ado:

Tags: some drinking, sub male, femdom, nudity, almost pussy eating (working up to it in part 2!), pussy worship, praise kink, worship kink (is that a thing?),  there’s no sex in this fic it’s just the lead up (she is spoicy tho)

Words: 1609

🍑🍑🍑

Under his shirt, the chain and pendant Tup wore brushed cooly against his chest. As unpleasant as the gooseflesh it raised was, the reminder it gave him was anything but. 

From the moment he’d awoke that morning, wrapped in arms as pale as the thin sunlight at that hour, he knew what he wanted and began to get ready. A few kisses pecked around his groggy girlfriend, Aurelie’s, face placated her awakening at his rising and he moved to her dressing table to grab the aforementioned necklace. If she wasn’t interested in playing, it would have been put away the night before in it’s felt case, but this morning he plucked it from it’s customary open place before the mirror. 

Catching the morning bus he felt it leap and jump with the rhythm of the air vehicle as the pilot navigated Coruscant air-traffic. After the war ended and the clones were given their freedom, sentient rights, and a hell of a lot of backpay, there were questions of what was to be done with them. As it turned out, there wasn’t such a mass exodus from the GAR as previously thought there would be, though many opted to retire from combat positions. Tup chose to oversee the supply requisition and organization for the newly formed Search & Rescue Ops, a subsidiary of the Disaster Relief Squadron, helping places around the galaxy affected by natural disasters. It felt meaningful and good, and he could honestly say he didn’t miss having to carry a gun and constantly keep an eye out for clankers.

After a day of approving supply drops, running reports, and the pendant lightly caressing his chest with every slight sway, he was back on the bus home. A man scowled at him from among the crowd; some people would never see the clones as anything more than meat-droids undeserving of even the life they were given, but the pendant mocked that man’s ideas from behind Tup’s shirt. It was a gift of love freely given to him and he was worthy,

When he returned to his apartment Aurelie was still at work, not getting off until late. As he waited for water to boil he straightened up around the place, clearing dust from the nooks it always returned to settle and gathered laundry. When he came to the bed in their room he came to a spot by the bed and stopped, considered, and opened a drawer to reveal a medium sized case which he deposited neatly on Aurelie’s side of the bed. He already had the necklace, it never hurt to be proactive in terms of their play. 

Half an hour later dinner was had and a portion of it was squared away in the fridge with a reminder to reheat it and enjoy and Tup was ready to meet a few of the boys at 79’s. As he changed from his work wear into something light blue and more casual, the afternoon sun caught the silver pendant resting on the tan skin of his breast bone, dying it almost the same shade of pink- before he could finish that thought a beep from his comm sounded informing him that his taxi had arrived outside.

20 minutes, a few levels down, and a familiar neon sign later, Tup was walking into a familiar bar. Nothing had changed about the place, only now armour and dress greys were a rare sight to be seen as the open opportunity for individuality to flourish among the clones led to some, interesting, experiments in style. ‘Speaking of which,’ thought Tup as a discordant but jovial chorus of his name called him over to a table in the corner. Fives, Jesse, Kix, Rex, Waxer, Boil, Cody, and even Wolffe, to his surprise, sat there having already gotten a small headstart on happy hour. It wasn’t a full reunion, others still at work or spread across the galaxy exploring life, but it was always nice to see familiar faces.

They took their time and paced themselves drinking, it was still early and they didn’t have to run off in an hour to prepare for a campaign and weren’t shotgunning a train of shots to try and forget one. Some of them had to be able to operate tomorrow morning though and they parted as the night lowered it’s curtain over day; Jesse and Kix remained however to scope out some of the ladies coming in with the party crowds.

As good as the times spent together were, Tup silently willed the air-taxi to carry him away faster through the legendary Coruscant traffic and back home. He’d worn the necklace, the empty place it would otherwise occupy obvious, if she hadn’t noticed then she would certainly see the familiar box he’d left resting by her pillow. Stars he was ready, the anticipation had built all day, the secret only he kept feeding his need. He was thrumming for whatever Aurelie had to give him.

The taxi stopped and he cursed the second it took for the payment to transfer, the minute in the elevator, the short march down the hall, and the door code he had to spend time punching in-

The entry was dark with the exception of a string of pink fairy lights strung along the wall and leading around the corner to their room. He grinned and, remembering to turn back and lock the door when he was already halfway across the room, soon came to the closed panel that marked their space. He knocked, “May I come in mistress?”

“Enter, darling.” A high, breathy voice answered.

As the door opened Tup entered the threshold and lowered himself to his knees, his hands finding their place on his lap as he gazed upon the shining woman perched on the edge of their bed (somehow, someway, his girlfriend, a part of his brain never ceased obsessing). She regarded him warmly, “Have you been a good boy today Tup? You took your necklace and I really hope it didn’t make you do anything naughty.”

“I was very good, mistress, just for you.” His voice was breathy and quiet, he had been good, and he anticipated his reward. His eyes drank in the milky skin that clothed the leopardess in repose before him, partially obscured by the long, wavy strands of pearly blonde hair.

“Oh I know Tup, you’re such a good boy. You wake me up with kisses, make sure I have food to eat when I work late, and you were so considerate to get our box of toys out for me. I don’t know where to begin, but good boys deserve to be rewarded, isn’t that right my beautiful boy?” 

Aurelie’s voice caressed his every synapse as he breathed in air that still held the trace of a burn from a heavy incense and he was already in a state. Her words of praise had passed straight down from his ears to his cock, bringing him to a full erection from the half mast he’d been sailing at since walking through the front door. “Yes, please mistress, yes.” If it sounded like he was begging, Tup didn’t care. Her soft thighs were resting atop one another, hiding from him what he’d been craving all day. Just one simple shift was all it would take to reveal to him where she was no doubt already soft, sweet, and wet.

Her legs uncrossed, but she stood instead of spreading wider and came to stand before him, her curl-crowned mound a tease before him that turned his need to a desperate clamour within him. He held still, eyes glued to hers as she leaned down to him and brought her pillowy lips to kiss him, one hand coming up to cradle his cheek and the other fiddles with his collar for the necklace she’d gifted him. His hands were curled hard on his lap, restraining himself from the urge to reach out and touch; being so, so good and waiting.

Drawing the pendant along the chain away from Tup’s racing heart, Aurelie held it between them and teased: “Is this what you want Tup? Do you want to eat my pussy until you’re begging for me to fuck you, until you cum in me? Or maybe I’ll ride that handsome face of yours all night and let you cum in my mouth while you’re hard at work.” Tup could only manage a tortured moan, the pictures being painted in his head making him dizzy. She lightly laughed and graciously accepted that as her answer, gently leading him across the floor as she walked backwards with the chain still in her hand, him crawling on all fours after her. When she returned to the bed she sat as he looked up at her with lust and adoration.

Still holding the pendant, she slowly drew her legs apart, raising one to rest on the bed so her pussy and the glorious pink of her vulva were wide open on display for Tup in his current position. Aurelie considered the pendant again for a moment. “I’m glad I found that artist, it’s a wonderful likeness, isn’t it darling?” From the petal-like folds of her labia minora to the majora that protected them and the unique hood that shadowed her marvelous clit, it couldn’t belong to anyone else. The highest honour Tup felt was being lucky enough to be the one person allowed to worship it. 

“Stars yes, mistress!” He agreed emphatically and Aurelie laughed lightly again and let the necklace fall back into its place from her fingers. 

“Well, come and get your reward Tup.” He gladly obliged. 

🍑🍑🍑

So yeah, Tup as a Sub wears a necklace of his girlfriend’s vulva when he really wants to be her good boy (; It also helps that it’s really pretty ✨👀✨

Also sorry if this is a little off, this wasn’t even alpha read, let alone beta read.

Aurelie is one of a few OC’s I’ve used in my daydreams, she may make another appearance in another story if I think she’ll fit! I may try and do some art too…

As for the boys at the bar, I came up with ideas for what they’re up to now and may either write other Kinktober stuff in this AU, or do some drabbles later (though I could include the Kinktober stuff in an AU drabble, right?). I didn’t include it in the story though because I felt like it would disturb the flow too much. I’ll probably detail the AU in another post if I do end up doing that.

Kinktober works so far

Masterlist

[madamephantom]

i guess we’re doing this

First off @dyn-in-purple congrats on going the fuck off on a joke post, but by now you’ve already proven how easily things just go completely over your head so I’m not gonna touch that.

I wasn’t gonna dignify your “opinion” with a response because it was obvious that all you wanted to do was start a fight, but today you caught me in a different mood so I guess we’re gonna do this.

To start things off! Let’s look at said “opinion” that you so graciously presented me with:

I’m gonna address the first half of your “opinion” because honestly that’s the only part of your “opinion” where you actually have actual statements regarding why you think Syndrome would win in a fight against Evelyn.

1. “He’s just as clever, but WAY more chaotic and unpredictable which could give him a hudge adventage on Evelyn.”

Syndrome isn’t chaotic OR unpredictable; in fact, he’s extremely goal oriented. Did you forget the whole plot of the movie where he held a fifteen year grudge against Mr. Incredible and how his whole entire motivation was not only killing Mr. Incredible but proving that he could be a better superhero than he ever was? Maybe you mistook the fact he killed all those supers in the process for “unpredictability” but Syndrome is, at heart, an inventor and probably a scientist. Any super he did away with was working towards the end goal, which was to eventually create a robot that was strong enough to kill Mr. Incredible. Guinea pigs, in a way. The only unpredictable thing he did was try to kidnap Jack-Jack, which was just the desperate actions of a man that didn’t want to admit he lost. On top of that! Evelyn didn’t have to murder anyone to get her plan in motion! Her plan was never to murder anybody! She planned everything by herself and did it right under her brother’s nose. In fact, she probably never would have been caught if Helen didn’t get involved. They both may be brilliant inventors, and just as smart as the other in that respect, but when it comes to being clever? It’s debatable.

So, already you’ve proven that you don’t really understand Syndrome’s motivations or personality, let’s move on!

2. “Plus his motivations and ambitions are stronger than Evelyn’s imo...and we all know he could bullshit his way out of anything lol.”

There’s one thing we can agree on; he bullshitted his way into the Parr home to an emotionally and physically exhausted teen babysitter who was just desperate to get away from the baby. Syndrome can be charming and nice when he wants to be, I won’t deny that. Though, I will point out that a lot of this “trickery” when it came to the supers he lured to Nomanisan heavily involved Mirage being used as a lure but that’s a post for another day.

However

Are you really trying to suggest that Syndrome getting his feelings hurt by his hero as a child, holding onto that grudge for fifteen years, and having a pissing contest with Mr. Incredible at the expense of many innocent supers and civilians is somehow a stronger motivation than Evelyn’s father’s complete faith in superheroes, which lead to him being murdered in cold blood and driving her mother into an early grave because of it...you’re really gonna sit here and tell me that Syndrome’s motivations and ambitions are stronger than Evelyn’s? At least Evelyn is sympathetic, her reasoning behind wanting to do away with supers is understandable even though she obviously went about it in the wrong way; neither of them are justified, just gonna put that out there right now. Syndrome is a petulant child that didn’t get his way, and Evelyn’s family was torn apart by her father’s death. The two don’t even compare and the fact that you would even try to just proves to me how little you understand about Evelyn’s motivations in the first place. 

Alright, so we’ve gotten that out of the way! Now, onto the rest of your “opinion”, the whole reason I wasn’t going to reply to your “opinion” in the first place!

“Buuut I somehow am under the impression that y'all praising Evelyn just because she’s a woman that is headcanoned as a lesbian so OF COURSE she would kick this gross white cis male’s ass (even tho Syndrome could perfectly be headcanoned as Bi lol and yes he’s evil but he has done nothing abusive towards women. Him and Mirage seemed to be perfectly happy and in a healthy relationship before the M.Incredible false threat incident).”

Okay. This mess here? Is you just trying to start a fight. Nowhere in my original post did I even mention what sexuality I thought Evelyn was, or Syndrome for that matter so I have no idea why you’re even bringing it up. Oh wait, yes I do! Because the big bad Tumblr hivemind hates men uwu! Shut the fuck up. I don’t give a fuck if you headcanon Syndrome as bi, or whatever you wanna call a headcanon, this is word vomit for the sake of being offensive and trying to get a rise out of people, eat a dick you ignorant troll.

Secondly! Oh, that false threat incident with Mr, Incredible? You mean the whole reason for Mirage’s heel turn and yet another significant plot point in the movie? That shows he really never gave a shit about her and was willing to let her die to prove a point? That’s healthy to you? Wow, alright then.

“I have nothing against Evelyn but stop  praising her for the wrong reasons and try to actually analyze the character okay ;)”

Your whole response, from start to finish, shows how little you understand about character analysis and motivation, and the plots of both movies for that matter!  You’re an ignorant child looking to pick a fight when you have nothing to back you up. How about you actually learn something before coming at me again, you condescending nothing of a person.