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taste-in-music · 4 years

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My Most Anticipated Releases of 2020

Now that 2019 is behind us, it’s time to look into the oncoming year for exciting new releases to come!

Manic by Halsey (January 17th): Halsey’s music is a mixed bag for me, but even I can’t deny that she’s got some real gems in her discography or that listening to Badlands makes me nostalgic to no end. The singles Halsey has released so far for this project are a mixed bag in my book. “Without Me” doesn’t click with me and “Nightmare” is messy and gets grating quickly. However, I like the others quite a bit, especially the synthpop euphoria of “Graveyard,” which I’ve returned to quite a bit over the past year. If the rest of the album leans more in that direction, I can see myself liking it quite a bit.

High Rode by Kesha (January 31st): Hearing Rainbow back in 2017 was one of the most exciting pop album listening experiences of the 2010s. Not only did Kesha deliver a confident, spirited, self-assured message, but she also blended together a slew of genres, such as folk, rock, and country, all of these qualities culminating in a exhilarating and touching record that I still return to to this day. The singles she’s dropped so far see a continuation of these elements into her next era, with “Raising Hell” and “My Own Dance” being dance-pop bangers while “Resentment” shows Kesha’s softer side.

The Slow Rush by Tame Impala (February 14th): After five years, the wait is finally over! I’d call myself a casual fan of Tame Impala, but even I can’t admit that Kevin Parker and crew know their way around indie rock hooks with a psychedelic spin, (as far as I’m concerned, “The Less I Know The Better” is a modern classic.) Singles such as “Patience” and “Borderline” show that this quality hasn’t lessened in the slightest, while the sprawling soundscape “Posthumous Forgiveness” shows that experimentation is still in store. Also, it’s being released on Valentine’s Day!

Cape God by Allie X (February 21st): I don’t think I can express how excited I am for this album. I think this is my most anticipated album of 2020 right now. All of the singles released so far been amazing. The eerie synths on “Fresh Laundry” make it the perfect spooky bop, Ms. X and Troye Sivan work great together on “Love Me Wrong", “Rings A Bell” goes OFF with its chorus, and bassline on “Regulars” makes for one killer groove. Not only that, we’re also getting a Mitski feature? I’m calling it for the collaboration of the year. Allie X's discography has been near flawless so far, so let’s just say that I’m hyped. 2020 better be the year she gets the recognition she deserves.

Notes On A Conditional Form by The 1975 (February 21st): As I’ve mentioned before, I have no expectations going into this album because I have no idea what it’s going to sound like. All the singles so far have been so drastically different, one being a speech set to music, another punk, and another pop. Regardless, they’ve all been good, so I’m not complaining. The 1975 are always dependable when it comes to delivering danceable bops with philosophical tidbits peppered throughout.

Miss_Anthrop0cene by Grimes (February 21st): How am I going to survive February 21st? I’ve been awaiting a new project from Grimes since falling in love with the sugary hooks, eccentric production, and hellish flair on Art Angels years ago. The singles so far have been a mixed bag, but it looked like we’ll see Grimes tackle themes of technology and artificial intelligence on this album, which is bound to be interesting.

Masochism by Sky Ferreira (TBA): This is assuming that we’ll even get an album at this point. Has it really been 7 years since Night Time, My Time dropped? Of course I’m kidding, however long Ms. Ferreira takes on this album will be well worth it, and I’m all for artists taking their time to refine their projects. We got some crumbs last year, both with her Charli XCX collab and the lush, baroque pop single “Downhill Lullaby.” I’m willing to patiently wait for whatever this alt-pop songstress will dish out in the coming months.

Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa (TBA): Dua Lipa was a breath of fresh air in the pop scene of 2017-2018. Her debut album provided not only hit singles that were some of the best on the radio but also great deep cuts that showcased her strength as a vocalist and songwriter. The debut single from this album, “Don’t Start Now,” has been on a loop for me over the past few months, and the melding of past and future aesthetics in her recent videos and music is panning out in a really interesting way. I’ve also heard rumors of Frank Ocean, Miley Cyrus, and Normani possibly being featured on this album, but I don’t have an official source for that, so it’s just speculation, (but can you imagine though?)

Watching You EP by Robinson (TBA): Robinson is an artist I don’t remember I love until I realize that I’m hours deep into marathoning her music and singing along to every line. She’s got a knack for a catchy hook and fun pop production. “Don’t Say” was one of my favorite songs of 2019, and it’s reported to be a debut single from what will be her first longer project. I’m stoked.

White Hot Forever by Lana Del Rey (TBA): I’d love to get another Lana album so soon after NFR!, but I have a similar concern about this as I did with thank u, next, that it would end up sounding rushed or not as fleshed out as it could be. Still, NFR! was my favorite Lana record to date, and I’d love to see if she’d continue the aesthetics of that project onto this album or start a completely new thematic and visual cycle. It’s also unclear as to whether this would be her spoken world album that’s also been announced? I guess we’ll just have to see.

The Archer by Alexandra Savior (TBA): Alexandra Savior won me over with her femme-fatale crooner of a debut, Belladonna of Sadness. The debut single from this album, “Crying All The Time,” is a swooning, fuzzed-out ballad that won me over instantly. This woman knows her way around a sensual vintage aesthetic, I’ll tell you that.

Other artists that have either announced or teased dropping albums this year include HAIM, Dominic Fike, Hailee Steinfeld, Oh Wonder, Lauren Jauregui, The Killers, Noname, Orla Gartland, Normani, Madison Beer, Ava Max, Conan Gray, Donna Missal (!!!) and, (good god, if we are worthy,) Fiona Apple.

It’s still very early in the year, so I’ll likely update this list in the months to come. What albums are you excited for this year? I’m always open to listening to new artists, so make sure to let me know.

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gagmebucky · 4 years

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[biker!bucky. clothes ripping kink. dollface.]

A gasp falls from your lips, sputtering a high pitched, “B - Bucky!” But he only regards you with a glinting smirk and resumes splitting it up your skin; your hands grab his wrists but his strength is absolute, and all you can do is dig your nails into his skin as you shriek, “What the hell are you doing?” But you already know he loves the marks, when your impression is left on him for others to see.

in which you look too good in that damn dress, and biker!bucky can’t help himself. (includes biker!bucky x chief-of-police’s daughter!reader, clothes ripping kink, reader receiving oral.)

—

A big hand clamps over your mouth, texturized with the calluses of a hardworking man, while a strong forearm anchors across your waist. Before you can react, you’re swept backwards into an unisex bathroom as leather and spice wafts your senses, and a familiarly gruff voice settles your fight-or-flight instincts: “It’s me.”

Immediately, you relax which has him releasing you so you whirl around, your back to the automatically locked door. Your heart like a hummingbird’s, you blink in disbelief at the mountain of a man standing before you in all his louche glory.

“What are you doing here?!” you exclaim in a hushed gasp. Despite yourself, excitement skitters across your skin as you take in your bearded, blue-eyed blackguard: a broad six-foot, towering in dark leather and denim, chestnut brown hair disheveled sexily. All in all, he’s something that draws attention at a suit-and-tie police ball. “What if someone sees you?!”

It’s not that you’re ashamed of the ex-con you’ve been shacking up with. It’s more that your father is being celebrated for his dutiful law enforcement work, and finding out his daughter has been getting on her knees for the same type of person he’s dedicated his life to putting away isn’t the place for that. You plan to divulge your relationship to him soon, just not yet.

Bucky’s tongue darts across his bottom lip, his teeth following as his gaze drags over every curve and contour of your low cut dress clad frame. You’d think he’d gotten enough of an eyeful with the images you texted him. His eyes snap to your face, and he surges forth with an animalistic groan at the base of his throat.

In one second, he grasps you by your hips—a crushing grip glides beneath your satin dress and hauls you high on his waist, palms searing and fingers kneading through a layer of fishnets and panties—and braces you on the bathroom’s sink. A gasp expels from your lips as your back collides against a cold mirror, another sound escaping when he yanks your thighs wide and slots himself between them.

In one hand, his rough pads upturn your jaw, almost squishing your cheeks with his force, maintaining eye contact. Feral, his eyes practically glow, and your skin prickles with a likewise manic passion. “You really sent those pictures and thought I wouldn’t come and see you for myself, dollface?” His wicked orbs flicker down, to the crease of your cleavage, to the slit in your dress, the fishnets covering your legs; his broad chest lifts and falls with a ragged breath.

A simmering furnace kindles in your core, crackling under your skin at the primal reaction to little ‘ole you. Admittedly, it shouldn’t be surprising given his carnal demeanor toward you has persisted since the first time you saw him—being towed away in handcuffs at the station. Nevertheless, it never falls to ignites something unhinged inside you, a wild side that shudders in anticipation for whatever he’s going to do to you.

This wasn’t the plan, but God, you love this deviation.

Upon messaging him that album of scandalous poses, all pristine in your classy—but borderlining skimpy—outfit, you just wanted to work him up while you attended this event. You wouldn’t have thought he would show up here, risking being seen by the flurry of officers who’ve either arrested him, or heard about the suspicious activities in his supposedly innocuous biker gang. Then again, that spontaneousness is one of the reasons why you seem to be addicted to him.

“Did you think I could resist getting my hands on this pretty ‘lil dress and your sexy body underneath?” he asks breathlessly, baritone pitch raking over your nerves like gravel. “And I couldn’t care less about whether your daddy sees us.” His white incisors scrape across his bottom lip. “What did he expect when he let you go out in something like this?“

Thin straps swoop low and reveal your décolletage as the black satin clings like a second skin; from the V of your chest to the reverse V on one thigh, it highlights all your assets tantalizingly, and fishnets do the same to your legs in stretched diamond-shaped string.

“Oh? Does that mean you don’t like it?” you goad innocently, lashes fluttering.

His lips twist up at one corner, entertained by your fauxness. “I’m just pointing out if he didn’t want you to be roughed up by someone like me, he would have told you to put on something that doesn’t make your tits look that good. A blind man can see you’re just asking for trouble.”

“What if that’s what I want?” you reply then tilt your head and part your lips to accept his thumb into your mouth. Your tongue curls around the appendage while your cheeks hollow with a tight suction; your stare remains on his the whole time, watching the flames blaze in his eyes as he pops free from your Cupid’s bow.

“Then you’re on the fuckin’ right track, dollface,” he just about growls and leans forward, intention set on kissing you until you’re breathless and dizzy, and your lips are swollen and glossy with his spit.

Although the prospect tightens in your belly, you stop him with a shake of your head. “My lipstick, biker-boy,” you say to the disgruntled confusion on his face, amused by the expression. “Consider these lips off limits until the end of the night.” You pause. “Then they’re yours to take however you want.”

Impatience lurks in his gaze, and restraint locks his jaw. Air flares his nostrils as his head tips forward. Distance nose-to-nose, he says a quiet, “Okay.” But there’s something about the quality there that has your hackles rising despite the calmness. “I won’t ruin your lipstick.”

The second the last syllable is drawn, without any time to consider the mystery of his purposeful diction, a shrill riiiiiiiiiip cuts bounces against tiled wall’s echo. Somewhere below your eyeline, his hands have hooked underneath the mesh and jerked it apart at the bend of your knee. Once carefully stepped in-to brand new fishnets are reverted into a tattered piece of sheer with a hole ovaling up your thigh.

“What’s wrong?” he teases, brows knitted in feigned confusion, continuing to litter the floor with your clothing. “Your lipstick is fine, dollface. That’s what you wanted. And since I can’t have those lips, then I’ll just have to settle for these.”

With an effortless twitch of his hands, your underwear is shredded into two separate pieces. Next thing you know, he’s on his knees, and he’s pulled you forward until your ass is on the edge of the porcelain sink and your legs are prised apart, leaving his face level with your most intimate part.

No time wasted, he delves in. He wastes no time delving in. Tongue first, he delivers a flat stripe up your sticky folds, ending at your slick bud which he immediately suckles into his warm, wet mouth like you’re a lollipop he’s hellbent on getting to the center of.

Pleasure strikes you like lightning, stimulation zapping you in your deepest depths. Before you can think to suppress it, you give a startled cry, a guttural choke resounding off the walls as you buck into the heaven that is him.

One of his hands shoots up and stuffs two fingers in your mouth, rasping over your taste buds, and muffling any attention-bringing sounds. All the while, he’s feasting on you in that same passionate and skilled manner he kisses you with. He suctions all the honey he can out of you, batting at your clit with his tongue.

Shocks attack your nerves, and shakes rack your body, inadvertently causing you to grind against his face. One of your legs curl over his shoulders, heels pressing into leather-bound muscles. Your fingers plunge into his impossibly soft locks and hold on for dear life while you’re upended by blind bliss building in your center.

Blue eyes pierce your soul, watching the delirium pump through you. Wickedness shines at the forefront of those storming oceanic pools; his pupils are dilated in raw desire at the flush of your cheeks, the look and feel of you desperately sucking on his index and middle digits to smother your pretty moans, the rhythmic undulation of your body.

The pit in your stomach deepens and spirals outward. Your toes furl in your heels, and your spine curves into an arc as an orgasm hurtles through every cell inside of you. A stifled noise vibrates against his fingers which has him jabbing them deeper until he can feel your throat constricting around them.

As you ride out your wave, he’s wringing every iota of pleasure out of you. He keeps your engorged button swathed between his teeth while you tremble with aftershocks. Once he’s satisfied, he retreats after an audible pop and rises to his six-foot and wide shoulder stature.

You’re still buzzing with the residual effects, panting heavily when he comes to loom over you. He grasps you by the jaw in his spit-soaked hand, and his lips glistening with your liquid lust, he kisses you. He takes possession of you, snaking his tongue in and claiming every inch for himself; he smears your lipstick and has you suck the taste of yourself off his taste buds.

Finally, he lets you go to gulp in much needed air. The look on your face already tells him you don’t give fuck all about the ruined cosmetics, or the torn fashion. No, he can see you’re basking in the sensations he invokes in you, grateful you’re allowed to be so undone.

Your eyes are hooded, Cupid’s bow red and swollen from him, bare thighs dripping with a dull ache between them. The formality of the event means nothing to you now when he’s here, having done that to you. You have half a mind to sneak out with him.

Like he knows what you’re thinking, he shakes his head. “I want you to go out there. I want them to see the chief’s pretty little princess looking like she just got fucked with no panties and no lipstick. You got that, dollface?” When you nod, all dazed and starry eyed, he smiles. “Good. I’ll pick you up later and ruin your soft, wet little pussy until she’s as swollen as your lips are now.”

[masterlist / feedback]

#bucky x reader #bucky x you smut #bucky barnes imagines #marvel imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel x you #i struggled A LOT with this one for some reason? i wanted to scrap it but i wanted to post something so i forced myself to finish it #anon who sent it: you can send it again and i'll try to write it better!!#my writing

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