HAPPY WASTELAND, BABY! DELUXE TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE!!!
spoiler free rambling below the cut
I was one of the few people who was lucky enough to have avoided any spoilers from this song when it was leaked right after the NYC listening party- it was actually one of the main reason why I avoided tiktok and twitter for a while... yall. I prepared myself for this song BUT. IT REALLY DIDN'T HELP. I AM SO VERY UNWELL.
It fits SO PERFECTLY with the theme of Wasteland, Baby! and I want to throw hands with Andrew for just letting this sit in a folder in a laptop but I can forgive him because it's out now.
I LOVE that it sounds imperfect, like he gets into these off-kilter flows and runs, but it's deliberate?!! AND IT WORKS WELL.
2019 Hozier, YOUR PEN GAME!?!?!!! SHOULD BE ILLEGAL IT IS SO GOOD. i need to process these lyrics more tomorrow when I'm more awake cuz OH BUDDY it hurts.
Wasteland, Baby! is such a beautiful album and I hope his new fans will get to appreciate it just as much as Unreal Unearth: Unheard now that the deluxe/special edition is here
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I can't bring myself to think of anything except a submissive dbf Bucky on his knees, shirtless and just short of begging to be allowed to touch you. (Probably inspired by this tiktok that I've watched SO many times)
Even his very first kiss is frantic. He usually starts off gentle; almost tentative but within minutes he's holding the back of your head, keeping you close and it's such an indulgent kiss, it makes your head swim.
"Fuck." His mouth latches onto your neck, groaning quietly when he realises you already have the first couple of buttons of his shirt undone. He's already lost any desire he might have had to take this slowly.
You pull him back up to kiss your lips with a hand gently cradling the back of his neck. He doesn't voice any objections, following your lead and letting his warm lips slide over yours until your tongue teases his.
He's practically melting already and it's so rewarding to watch how easily he crumbles. Your lips don't part from his while he shrugs his shirt off and as soon as his neck is free of the collar, your hand replaces it.
His eyes open when you start to apply pressure to the outside of his throat, careful to avoid pressing on any of the more delicate structures. "Harder." He needs this. You have no problem indulging him.
"You're so good for me." He's flushed already but you swear the praise makes his cheeks blaze even hotter. His lips are pink and slick and he's long since forgotten his need to kiss you. Up until you use your grip on his neck to direct him to kneel on the carpet.
You let go of his throat, the release of pressure gives him a head rush and it's written all over his face. He's looking up at you expectantly, desperate to know what's coming next. Are you going to tease him about being so submissive? Slap his face a little? Spit in his mouth maybe? A little part of him isn't sure what he'd prefer more.
You do none of the above though. Instead, you perch on the edge of the bed while you play with his hair, letting the seconds tick past, not saying a word.
He almost feels deprived of touch, going from so much to so little in a short space of time. Your knees are pressed tightly together but he kisses up one of your bare legs regardless, worshipping every inch of skin he can press his mouth to.
"Spread your legs." It's only a quiet murmur but his tone is off. He's not in a position to be making any demands.
"Who do you think you're talking to?" It's almost funny that he thinks he'll get what he wants by addressing you like that.
"Spread your legs please." The emphasis seems genuine. He engaged his mouth before he engaged his brain. It happens and you forgive him, parting your thighs and letting him shift the skirt of your dress out of the way.
You hadn't bothered to wear underwear. It only gets in the way and Bucky seemed appreciative that he didn't have to waste any time taking it off you.
"You're so wet already." This wasn't news to you. Even just the thought of him on his knees for you is enough to get you worked up, never mind the reality.
One of your hands instinctively settles on the back of his head and you feel him start to glide his tongue over your slick sex. He kisses your body like he did your lips earlier. The pressure and intensity feels indulgent, long strokes of his tongue that allow him to taste you the way he's been dreaming of.
The slick sounds are obscene. His quiet moans are filthy. He sinks two thick fingers into your body, curling them while his tongue laps at your clit and you can't help the way your legs shake.
The pointed tip of your shoe presses gently to the front of his trousers and he gratefully grinds against the sole. His pleasure can't and won't be forgotten, although it seems like that wasn't a concern of his anyway.
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I have the urge and the inspiration to create but I am completely wiped out. This is my third 10 hour shift of the week and I am half way to deceased. Even just summoning the willpower to drag my ass to my coffee machine and make myself a cup seems like some herculean chore. How are other artists holding down full time jobs and having consistent quality output at the same time???? DX
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