#this role reversal is consuming me

[clandestine-poet]

Alright, a little less coherent now, but oh god I think I dreamed about this while in surgery. That, or some God blessed (or potentially cursed) me with more thoughts.

I have a bit more of a full role swap list. I'll probably write a few one shots first because TGCF is a brick (/aff). Also, cis-swapping for Hualian only.

Below the cut is spoliers!! In fact, I should just tag this whole thing as spoilers. It's goofy. I am bad at not spoiling. But I hope you enjoy!!!

The Decided List

Xie Lian <--> Hua Cheng

Xie Lian: Silver Sword Seeking Blood

Hua Cheng: Blood Storming Martial Goddess/Her Highness Who Pleased the Gods

Shi Qingxuan <--> Pei Xiu

Shi Qingxuan: Little General Shi

Pei Xiu: Fire Master Xiu/The Young Lord Who Spilt the Oil

Shi Wudu <--> Pei Ming

Shi Wudu: General Wu Guang of the East/The General Who Burned His Ships

Pei Ming: Earth Master Ming

He Xuan <--> Ban Yue

He Xuan: He Sheng ("Congradulate" "Scholar") Preceptor

Ban Yue: Black Mountain Devouring Souls/ """"Gui Yi""" (姽仪) The Wind Master

Feng Xin <--> Quan Yizhen

Feng Xin: General [unsure], Martial God of the East

Quan Yizhen: General [unsure], Martial God of South-East

Mu Qing <--> Yin Yu

Mu Qing: The Rose-Thorned Officer, former Martial God of East and now Banished

Yin Yu: General [unsure], Martial God of South-West

Yushi Huang <--> Ling Wen

Yushi Huang: Top Civil Goddess Yushi Huang Zhen Jun (Mostly Diplomacy/Information Based)

Ling Wen: Water Master Wen/The Princess Who Carved the Sea

The Undecided List

Lang Qianqiu <--> Qi Rong ????????????????????

Xiao Ying <--> Lang Ying ?????

Xuan Ji <--> Bai Jing (The Brocade Immortal)??????????????????????

The I Don't Even Know List/Might Not Swap???

Jian Lan?????????? / An Le??????????????? (literally makes no sense)

Jun Wu???????? / might not swap him but instead change his motives to fit fafa more???

Mei Nianqing?????? / MAYBE someone from the gambler's den? make him a gambling ghost????

GUZI????? HELP???? CHILDREN???

So Quickly, here's my elemental master list. I did add the fire master because I like it.

Fire Master: Pei Xiu Thunder Master: (OC cause there is no one) Lin Zhenshi Wind Master: "Gui Yi" aka Ban Yue Water Master: Ling Wen Earth Master: Pei Ming Rain Master: ...uh oh.

a full rewrite.

a full role reversal TGCF where Hua Cheng is the noble dianxia and Xie Lian is the ghost king but:

• make it a TRUE role reversal. What would Hua Cheng (Hong Hong-er) do in Dianxia Xie Lian's place? What would Xie Lian do in little Hong Hong-er's?

• role swap EVERYONE. BUT don't do the obvious. because i have seen the obvious, and i am quite annoying in finding a new way to do this. for example, instead of switching shi qingxuan and he xuan, switch shi wudu, shi qingxuan and he xuan with pei ming, pei siu and ban yue. why? cause it's interesting. and i like it.

• make it hualesbians because i am a useless lesbian and also just like lesbians. but don't just gender swap, make that fact effect the story, since sexism is canon in tgcf. think ling wen.

• also ngl, im in the works of this. i just don't have a beta reader and i kind of feel bad but tbh I just like writing

• don't make it blow for blow, but def follow some stuff. because like, this whole series carved out my heart. i just now want to throw a bunch of "what if's" at it because it's funny and i think i need to stop re-writing classical literature as lesbian (so far, my list is: the great gatsby, lord of the flies, the count of monte cristo, of mice and men, a christmas carol and a few others)

• come up with all their designs yourself because you're petty and want to be historically accurate and boy has anyone ever mentioned you have a hyperfixation on historical textiles and weaponry because oh boy i'm so sorry in advance

[chatdae]

love how the older skaters in the senior division give Yurio encouragement and that each time it pisses Yurio off. JJ is intentionally condescending so that makes sense, but with Viktor and Yuuri they're not even being condescending. Yurio's just dialed in on being a hater... and i love that for him <3

[rosemary-bells]

i’ve always wondered why there weren’t many role reversal aus for ranwan and honestly. i can say that after about three days of writing.

i finally have an answer.

they r like literally impossible to write.

[bylertruther]

WAIT i want to complain one last time before i go to bed 💙 smth smth letting the demons out so u can have sweet dreams or whatever after, u kno. ahem. anyway.

girls when their dash is dying and they don't particularly enjoy the direction fandom is headed in bc unfortunately this fandom does move and act like a hegemony / hivemind a majority of the time and the canon compliant content that they do enjoy n look forward to is scarce but it's not like they can even go back to their personal blog for the time being because succession is literally ending forever in three days and hotd is currently filming yes but the tag for 2/3 of their fave characters is literally all either a ship they hate and/or character x reader smut fics and also it's depressing as fuck and the other media content that they enjoy is equally as fucked up which means they'd have no lighthearted Love Conquers All content in their rotation which isn't exactly good and and and—

[daisyachain]

really and truly the tiers of mob saiko understanders are That One Blog That Translated Ch 100 As It Came Out > the privileged few who like teru/mob > people who hate teru/mob > most people who like teru/mob > people who call reigen gendered slurs

[hexcii]

The fish brainrot consumed me, I had to draw him again

I love him (I want to hit him with a hammer)

@naffeclipse please come get your man I think he might eat me

Role reversal

[heavenbarnes]

Million Dollar Baby

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: this is essentially a series of vignettes, at this point you’re the duncan-donaldson sugar baby, swearing, effective cheating (tashi approved), mild exhibitionism, face slapping (not with hands), unprotected sex, reader is pretty submissive, thee slightest tashi x reader, patrick mention.

Part one

it’s that part two to “i wanna make it (so badly)” that i kept harping on about! just wanted to prove to you all i could make good on something! enjoy! i still crave this man!

Born under a lucky star.

Rabbits foot. Horse shoe. Triple sevens. Four-leaf clover.

Art Donaldson plays tennis very well.

When you're around?

He's better.

O2 Arena, London, England. ATP men's singles finals.

Naturally the only way you'd ever get close to something like this was on her invitation.

Tashi had invited you.

"I beg your pardon?"

"We'll cover your flights and accommodation- it's important that you're there."

Yes, because you were sure you could sweet talk your way into a lesson with Lily at Buckingham Palace.

Obviously, obviously it wasn't about your silly little tennis lessons these days. But that was the front.

Rich neighbourhood, nosey neighbourhood.

"Tashi, I couldn't help but notice Art's Jeep drive past me as I left Pilates. Just who was that pretty young thing in his passenger seat?"

"She's Lily's tennis coach, he drops her off when she's had to stay late."

Yeah,

yeah.

Drops you off because your legs aren't their best when they've been over his shoulders for an hour.

It was a pretty good front.

So you found yourself courtside in a Lacoste skirt you'd never imagine owning. That's why you didn't own it, Tashi had left it on your bed among other items of clothing she expected to see you in.

Dress-up doll.

Her plaything.

Pulled out of your thoughts by the chorus of cheer, it was all directed to the movement you could just and only see out the corner of your eye.

Art Donaldson took the court with a kind of swagger that made your thighs tense under expensive material. His eyes took to the stands- sweeping over adoring eyes looking back at him.

And then he came to rest.

You could tell he looked at Tashi first, the way his shoulders straightened and the grip on his racquet became even tighter.

Miracle it didn't snap.

Then you felt him look at you, his eyes softened and the corner of his mouth turned up.

A smug smirk as he ran his tongue along his teeth.

And you began to think back on everything that lead you here.

-

You had found yourself in many precarious situations with Art.

And you were acutely aware of the fact you hadn't seen it.

You'd felt it- felt it against your thigh, the heat of your cunt,

fuck, you'd even felt it against the sole of your foot.

Ruined numerous pairs of Calvin Klein's in the process.

But you'd never seen it.

And it wasn't a topic of contention, it wasn't a 'you' thing per se.

It was actually the fact that Art about blacks out every time you make him cum, and that's through a good few layers of clothing.

The thought of getting it out and laying it against your bare skin? Putting it in your mouth? Putting it inside-

Even the the idea of it makes his eyes water. Blessing and a curse, really.

On one hand, he's guaranteed a mind-blowing orgasm.

On the other, it might only last a few seconds.

You were just happy to be there.

Art could give you everything or give you nothing and you'd lap it up every time.

Good girl.

Art looked good like this, he always looked good but there was something about this.

Sat on the couch, thighs spread, large hands balled up on his knees. When you were in this position- on your own knees before him, with reverence- he looked good.

He looked all consuming.

If you asked him, it wasn't a sight Art was used to, something something role reversal.

Your hands ran along the coarse hairs of his legs, ever-so-slightly getting closer to the bottom of his shorts.

(Post-tennis, still a little sweaty- heavy musk if you really got your face in there)

"We'll go as slow as you need, Art."

However he wants it, whenever he wants it.

Quarter to midnight on Tuesday, you were meant to be doing an ungodly load of laundry tonight. But then he'd looked at you, then he'd told you he 'needed' you.

Turns out whatever he wants looks a lot like what you want.

Obedience in spades.

He stopped you before your hands could go any further, opting to reach under the waistband himself. You were all the better for it, too focused on not giving up the extent of your excitement.

Was it weird to say you'd spent a lot of time imaging what his cock looked like?

Probably.

You reasoned it with the fact you knew Art spent a lot of time thinking about what happens under your pretty little tennis skirts. That and he'd seen it more times than you could count, these days.

Things always seem to go his way.

Your breath caught in your throat when Art hooked his thumb around the waistband, stretching the elastic so he could get it out.

Of course, of course it was as pretty as the rest of him.

Flushed pink at the tip, pale and creamy down the length of it. Kind of thing you need to get your lips around.

Banked for another day.

One hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped around the base- Art slapped his cock once, twice on your outstretched tongue.

"A-ahh, f-uck- okay-"

Nice and slow- can't have him blowing the top off just yet.

He couldn't really say you were helping the point. Sitting there, sitting pretty, primed and ready for whatever he wants next.

The sight along was enough material to tug his cock to for the rest of his life.

Let alone being faced with it.

Which is why he did just that- tugged his cock to it.

Long fingers wrapped around a long cock, twisting along the length of it, rolling the palm over the head. Sticky wetness catching in the centre of his palm as he drags it back along the shaft.

Your tongue stayed permanently outstretched, allowing him to slap the weeping tip right on it. If it wasn't your tongue, it was your cheek- wherever he could gain purchase with your skin without tipping himself over the edge.

Yet.

Eventually, Art came in filthy hot ropes across your face and the most minimal amount actually made it in your mouth.

Majority of it was painted across your cheeks, drawn up and sweet under your shining eyes. Bright smile stretched across your face beneath pearly little drops.

Pretty girl-

perfect girl.

-

"I'm sorry- I just need- oh, oh god- just need-"

Incoherent.

A bleary-eyed, incoherent Art.

Chest pressed tight to your back, shorts around his thighs- your little skirt bunched up tight in his fist.

"I need this- I need this- y'so good to me- I need this-"

Yeah, seems like it.

You'd only managed 15 minutes on the court before it'd come to this. Art had thrown his racquet to the wind and ushered you around the side of their changing shed- the same one where he first,

You know?

Yeah.

You'd actually headed for the door but he couldn't wait that long, pulled you between the wall and the tall fence that circled the court. You were both nestled in beneath an Arabian Gingerbread Palm of sorts- naturally.

Art had slipped your underwear to the side and mounted you like a fucking dog.

Desperate.

The sound of his taut thighs slapping against yours was fucking ludicrous, the sight would’ve managed something worse.

He had a look across his face that said he knew this was pathetic- that there was no way he should’ve been rutting into you in broad fucking daylight.

But it’s not like you could see that look, not when his face was pressed into your neck.

“Ohh, you just- you just feel so good.”

Was he crying?

You looped an arm around the back of his head, slowly stroking your nails against his scalp as you struggled to keep yourself from buckling under the pressure.

Your other arm stretched out in front of you, palm braced on the wall as Art continued the relentless piston of his hips.

Through tears even.

“Feels so good, Art- making me feel so fucking good- just rub my clit, touch me a little.”

In an instant, his fingers were under the front of your skirt as he rubbed haphazard circles around the apex of your cunt.

“Like this? You like this? Tell me I’m doing a good job, please.”

Jesus Christ.

“Yes- doing a good job, you always do so good- gonna’ make me cum.”

And like you’d said the magic word, Art was going rigid. Hips slamming into you with a couple brutal and unyielding thrusts, less precision than you were used to with him.

Til’ he was dripping out of you.

His fingers kept going.

Until your face was pressed was pressed against the changing shed wall, sure to leave a lovely pattern of stucco on your skin.

Until you were babbling and canting your hips back onto his hand as drool ran down the side of your cheek.

Until you even realised that he’d dropped to his knees and was running his tongue through your cunt from the back, massive hands splitting your cheeks.

You reached a hand back to grip his hair, pulling his face even further into the sodden lips of your pussy as you fucked yourself back onto his tongue.

“That’s it- lick my cunt, Art. See how good you taste?”

Your ears stopped ringing long enough for you to hear it.

He makes that noise when he cums.

Again.

Tashi watched you both drag your feet back into the house- a sheen of sweat over you both that could’ve looked post-tennis.

To anyone else but her.

She let you pass without issue, but a fine hand pressed to Art’s chest as he tried to follow you to the showers.

“If I ever see you cum before her again, there will be trouble. Understood?”

There was no use explaining that you didn’t mind, that you kind of liked when you riled him up- made him lose control.

That he probably deserved to feel good.

Instead, you heard him murmur an apology before he finally got you under the monsoon shower head in the enormous guest bathroom.

Three more good ones on his tongue, just for good measure.

-

It was a miracle the Donaldson-Duncan mantelpiece didn't crumble under the immense weight of success.

Trophy, after trophy, after photo, after-

"Did Tashi meet Obama?"

Art chuckles over your shoulder as he watches you cradle the photo, eyes wide with admiration. Devotion?

"She did, he invited her to the White House the year before we got engaged."

"Your invite get lost in the mail?"

"It wasn't about me."

Is anything ever about him?

As you continued your impassioned scan of their family treasures, you came to a complete stop at a 5x7 frame.

"Is this a young Art Donaldson?"

You could feel his eyes on you as you lifted the frame with the same gentle touch as you'd lent to Tashi's photo.

This time, your fingers gingerly brushed over the glass- almost as if you could feel the crop of golden curls beneath your fingertips.

"You've never seen any of my earlier games? Junior doubles at the US Open?"

Taking your eyes off a very-pretty-young Art, you threw him a look that said something like 'be so serious.'

"No, I wasn't much for watching tennis as a- what? Six year old?"

Oh.

That's right.

It was impossible for Art to forget the elephant in the room- call him a dirty old man but Art was always thinking about the pretty young thing that he liked best in his lap.

But sometimes he forgot.

"Well, that's me the day Patrick and I won."

"Who's Patrick?"

Oh.

And just like that he's chubbing up in his pants.

Art Donaldson currently exists in a space and time where he has something that Patrick doesn't.

And you're none the fucking wiser.

How could you be? You're still enamoured with the shaggy golden curls and the unspoken pull of a backwards cap.

"Yeah, you would've driven me wild back in the day."

There's a wry smile that catches on the corner of his mouth, right at the same moment he takes the photo from you. You're forced back to reality, present day-

The one where Art's a few years older but still as devastatingly handsome.

"Would've?"

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, feeling a firm chest pressing against your shoulder blades. Feeling crowded.

Feeling caught.

"As if I don't already."

Art spends the evening reminding you of your place.

That, despite the age between you, he's still the one that runs rings.

-

Contrary to popular belief, Art Donaldson has bad days.

Unfortunately for just about everyone in the O2 Arena, he chose today.

Well, the fates decided on today.

As he thrashed his racquet through the air, you could've sworn you heard the 'woosh' it was sure to have made from all the way up here.

Tense, you were slumped in your seat as you couldn't escape the voice in your head-

the one that was telling you your luck had run out.

The one that still sounds a lot like Tashi Duncan.

"COME ON!"

Tashi's voice actually sounded from beside you, making you jump out of your skin.

Naturally, you began searching for Art- searching for something to do, someway to fix this. What was left for you if you couldn't be lucky.

Rabbits foot. Horse shoe. Triple sevens. Four-leaf clover.

Nowhere to be found- but you found Art, found his eyes.

Looking at you.

Pleading with you.

Come on.

There was that pathetic little gaze you'd come to know. When he wanted something, when he needed something.

Art Donaldson always gets what he wants.

You jumped a little when you felt Tashi's hand rest on your knee where it crossed over the other. Perfect manicure drumming against your kneecap, gripping once.

Gripping twice.

Gently, prying it away from the other till they were side by side.

Thighs being forced apart.

Suddenly acutely aware that Art's eyes weren't on your face anymore.

They were on Tashi's hand.

Acutely aware that, among all the pretty things she'd laid out on your bed this morning, there wasn't a pair of panties among them.

That same perfect manicure between your spread thighs, patting you once, twice- right where her husband had made a home.

Under a lucky star.

Art Donaldson had a penchant for getting what he wants.

With an unmatched performance, the arena was turned on its head. Neon green blitz across the court, landing right where he wanted it to.

The crowd cheered his name to a tune only he knew;

How to be a winner.

All guts, all glory.

The deafening commotion chewed you up but it was Art that spat you out. Amongst the noise, the fury, you found him stood staring right at you.

Expectantly.

The weight of responsibility on your chest. Your luck hadn't run out, it was only just the beginning.

To the victor go the spoils.

Somewhere, a rabbit was missing it's foot.

[chastiefoul]

sleepy day w/ love and deepspace men ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel

fluff / 0.5k words

zayne

“i won’t cave in anymore the next time you insist on us watching a movie near midnight,” he sighed, knowing damn well that he most definitely will cave in again. you struggled opened your eyes, zayne’s gentle voice sounded like a comforting background noise as you’re hanging to the thinnest thread of awake state. “nooo,” you whined quietly, lying on his lap as you put your arms around his hand, snuggling it closer. zayne just let out another tired sigh, knowing at this point saying anything will be futile since your mind’s all hazy with sleepiness. although there’s a little smile across his lips, the thumb of his free hand stroking the spot above your ear ever-so-softly, “you can’t sleep on the couch, it’s not good for your back,” he whispered, planting a small kiss on your eyelid. “sshhh, naggy zayne.” you frowned slightly while the smile on his lips was an inch wider.

seeing that you’re probably not going to wake up anymore anytime soon he just put a blanket (that he secretly put near the couch on movie nights) over you. once he made sure it had covered you all the way to your toes he leaned back, getting comfortable. another sleep on the couch it is then he thought, a smile still ghosting over his lips.

xavier

“roles reversed, it seemed like.” xavier smiled as he stared at you adoringly. you both were currently sharing a rainy cozy evening with a card game before drowsiness hit you. “’m not sleepy,” you mumbled, forcing yourself to be awake as you leaned on his shoulder, your eyes felt terribly heavy. “i didn’t say you are,” the man beside you replied calmly, resting his head on top of yours. “your turn, xavi.” you mumbled the quietest voice. he smiled and shook his head slowly.

“it’s been your turn for the last ten minutes baby, but you keep dozing off.” his finger drawing random patterns on your thigh, and it just felt blissful. “really? lies.” you managed to say, already giving up to stay awake as you closed your eyes. xavier just watched you lovingly, as he kissed the side of your head. “alright, let’s get you to bed. i could use a nap myself.”

rafayel

“i turned my back for 5 seconds and you’re already off to dreamland,” he said, crossing his arms. you blinked a few times; the urge to sleep still consumed you. “spare me please, i’ve run around fighting so many wanderers today,” you replied, resting your head on the loveseat headrest. “figured, considering you made me wait 800 years for you to come here,” rafayel grumbled, taking your hand in his. you narrowed your eyes at his theatrics, “it’s more like one hour, but you know, details.” you rolled your eyes playfully.

despite all his complaints he brought you close to his chest, “as punishment, you’ll listen to me explaining how to get the perfect sage green color,” he said and he rambled on. you chuckled a little, you knew that he knew you loved listening to him as he spoke so gently, stroking the ends of your hair strands, lulling you into a deeper sleeping state. once he made sure you’re completely out he just smiled, perhaps if what’s on the end of the line was a day he could see you sleep so peacefully in his arms again, he won’t mind waiting for another 800 years.

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: perv!wonwoo (not super pervy but i tried my best 🫡), smut, f reader, penetrative sex, established relationship (situatuonship is mentioned but idk lets assume they're exclusive just bc i can), he's kinda a dick, etc.

wc: 905

masterlist

streamer!wonwoo perv!wonwoo whose audience believes him to be a golden boy. simply a polite yet charming guy whos into video games, who just so happens to be insanely handsome. his thick rimmed glasses and wavy hair almost covering his eyes, accompanied by those wide shoulders, was able to catch the attention of all of those looking for a pretty face to look at while consuming content from their favorite video games (although many keep their eyes glued to the tiny view of wonwoo on the corner of the screen rather than the game itself).

the people watching him through the screen dont even see the half of it, though, not knowing how much of a perv he is when in real life. not so much a respectful and charming guy, but a degenerate who keeps up the act for appearances. after all, that is how he first got to you a few years back, when you, one of the few who had been a loyal viewer since before his channel blew up, decided that you just HAD to have the pretty nerd rambling about league of legends on stream.

after a few (okay, maybe more than a few) attempts at catching his attention through leaving various suggestive comments, wonwoo finally decided to take a look at your account, noting an instagram linked on your bio. after seeing that the desperate commentator he had taken a liking to seeing always punctual in his streams was a pretty girl in his area, his mind went straight to the gutter, finding his hands moving on their own to send you a message detailing his interest.

a few months later and you found yourself in a months-long situationship with the streamer, having him hit you up almost every other day when he needed 'something warm warm to stick his dick in', as he so nicely put it as he had you sitting on top of him, cockwarming him while he gamed (off-stream, of course).

having a such a well paying stay at home job had many perks, including the ability to take any day off he wanted to fuck you into his bed, somehow managing to never scare you away with his very obvious obsession with your body, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you with little to no regard for the exhaustion you'd feel after a few hours with him. somehow the roles had reversed, with him now being the one to continuously pursue you under the vice of getting under your pants every second he could.

"n-nonu fuck. slow down, i-" you whined as he senselessly bounced you up and down on his dick, rhythm completely lost a few rounds ago.

he practically growled at your complaint, "you asked for this when you showed up wearing that tiny excuse for a skirt while i was on stream."

"you asked me over-"

"for moral support, baby. not for you to parade yourself around me knowing i wouldnt be able to hold back from taking this pussy," he breathed out, angling you slightly differently, now causing you to whine even louder at your clit being stimulated by the friction.

"does your audience know how m- agh fuck. how much of a perv you are? leaving mid stream to get your dick wet?"

your brattiness causes him to disconnect your bodies, flipping yours over to put you on your hands and elbows and ramming himself into you with no warning.

"be thankful i'm fucking you of all people baby. be thankful this pussy has such a grip on me to get you on my bed every night," he sped up as he spoke filth into your ears.

wonwoo had a special way of making you feel like an object, something which you only enjoyed when it came to him. despite being such a fucking perv, you enjoyed the dynamic you had built, allowing him to play with your body however he saw fit as long as he made you cum. and jesus christ, did he.

"fuck," you felt the end coming near and began to push yourself back against him, grinding into him as much as you could despite his clammy hands having such a tight hold on your hips.

"im gonna make you cream all around me and then im gonna fill you up. okay, baby? then im gonna go back on stream while you keep my bed w- ah fuck. warm for me. if you're a good girl for me, i'll fuck you to sleep afterwards," he rasped out, losing his rhythm even further as he neared his own high.

a few more harsh thrusts later and you were creaming around him, tightening up so much that he, too, reached his peak, filling you up and letting go of your hips, causing you to fall flat against the mattress.

"fuck. baby, never show up like that here again. i almost died," he breathed out as he tried to do a decent job at cleaning you up a bit and tucking you under the covers.

despite his perverted treatment of your body, wonwoo was always sweet to you when his mind wasnt filled with sex (which admittedly wasnt often).

"you act as if i forced you to fuck me," you retaliate despite knowing you did wear that skirt with a specific purpose in mind.

"just shut up and go to sleep, baby. you'll need your energy back soon."

n/a: this is ass im rlly bad at writing men who r not obsessed with their s/o im sorry </33

[hardly-an-escape]

I love the headcanon that Tommy is Italian and makes pasta from scratch and his nonna’s spaghetti sauce recipe etc etc — but I would also like to offer up for consideration:

Tommy is not a home chef. like, at all. he cooks at home, but it’s the most boring weighed out meal planned gym bro type of diet imaginable. all he pays attention to is how many grams of protein he's consuming. it's just unseasoned eggs and brown rice and bland salmon, day after day.

Buck is appalled. babe, he says, you know you can hit your macros and still eat food that, like, tastes good? please tell me you know that.

and yeah, obviously, Tommy knows that. theoretically. it's just that his life has become a series of well-worn grooves. and food is fuel and spending time and energy on things like flavor profiles seems like misplaced energy. (flavor is for cheat days and housing two dozen hot wings and a side of mozzarella sticks.) so he trundles along in the groove of what's easy and predictable, eating his boring baked chicken, until Evan Buckley comes along and, well... spices everything up.

because look, here's the thing. much has been made of Tommy's skills and competency, and I love that for all of us and especially for Buck. but I also really want Buck to have something that he, individually, brings to the table (so to speak). something that he can teach Tommy, something that lets him show off his competency and skills. and Buck's developing relationship with food and cooking has been such a recurring theme, and it's so deeply linked to his most important relationships to people, I would really love for that to be the thing that he gets to be the expert in.

also, it clearly means a lot to Tommy to be someone who teaches, given how often he seems to offer to teach – I would love to see him be someone who learns, too. there's really only one way to get good at something, after all! and what a delicious bit of role reversal it would be to have Buck teach Tommy via the love language of food...

[mjbarrosart]

My Dragon Prince Boards season 6, episode 608

Hello, everyone!

Finally I have some time to write this! You can not imagine how demanding is to work making television shows, everything is for yesterday, haha!

Complains about work aside, it is time to talk about my last episode of season 6, episode 8. This one was... special.

I can say without a doubt that this was one of the most emotional episodes I have ever worked on. I cried every time I watched the animatic, and I cried again watching the final episode a few days ago.

I think is a lot of things together: a lot of important things happens, characters die, Katolis is destroyed, one of the quasars is fake! Aaravos!!! ... but also because I witnessed my team bring together their A game, telling this story in such a beautiful way.

I learned a lot from this episode, specially from my Unit Director, Mike Jones, who was in charge of boarding the "Hearts of Cinder" spell sequence; what a masterclass of emotion, storytelling and cinematography! I love Jason Simpson's performance during the show, but in particular in that sequence, and I think the boards took everything to a new level.

Now, let's go back to my sequences.

My first one was Soren going down to Viren to ask him to perform the spell. It was good to have this last interaction between both of them after all the work I did with the characters in 605.

There is a lot of subtle staging in this one. The way the light is hitting over their heads, how present in the screen the staff is; Viren's hesitance is something that I remember was important for me to portrait properly.

One of the things we talked a lot during this sequence was in how to use the light as narrative element. I was not interested in the classical reading of going into the light as "good" and shadows as "bad".

But light as hope, options, forgiveness, etc.

Viren walks away from the light when he gets offered the staff not because he is going "bad" but because he doesn't feel capable to do what he is being asked to do.

Soren is coming directly to him, removing his chains, giving him back his staff, asking him for help. But Viren hesitates.

And I think that that was a genius think for the script to call. Viren is not a man looking for the first chance to "redeem" himself. I am not even sure that he believes that he deserves that possibility.

But they are running out of time. The situation is dire, and as the light get blocked by the falling debris, the options are becoming clearer. Hope is dim, but there is something to do: Hearts of Cinder.

Viren, still full of doubts, explains to Soren why the spell is so hard to perform: the price is a human heart. A price that the Viren of the past would have pay with not second thought, but not the current one, no the one who understands the weight of dark magic.

But Soren has no doubts: "Take mine" I still have chills listening to the delivery of that line. And I think here is the moment Viren decided to sacrifice himself. While he is being consumed by doubt and fear, his son will is clear, Soren will do the right thing, even if that cost him his life.

And that is what Viren never had before. The willingness to sacrifice himself for the greater good. He looked at his reflection in Soren's golden heart and saw and answer, saw love, hope.

I just think is beautiful that Soren's conviction gave him the chance to do the right thing for once. Soren taught him the ultimate lesson.

I love this two so much.

My next sequence is a simple one, Terry and Claudia arriving to Katolis. I liked to draw Claudia's new hair. I wish I had more sequences with her in this season.

After this is Moon nexus time!

After all the drama with Viren and Soren the massage sequences felt a little silly, hahaha. but was fun to make.

I added the little detail of Rayla having issues landing, while Callum is just so good at it, haha. Fun to have their roles reversed for one, and Rayla being the clumsy one.

I like the moment when Lujanne ask them if they are a couple again and they exchange this nice look. I know that Rayllum is a huge thing in the fandom, and while they are not my type of ship (I am into the sapphics, you know) I think that they are pretty cute together, and Is always fun to make moments between them.

I just wanted to share with you this silly face, lol. Sometimes you draw things in boards that don't translate that well into the final show, but It is fun anyway, you want to inspire the animators to push the performance as much as they can.

Back to serious business. I love the shift when our heroes realized that there is only 2 quasars and 3 coins. Callums turn into Raylla knowing that this will destroy her. I really enjoy how the use of the lens to blur Lujanne in the Background creates this efect of hyperfocus on Callum and Rayla.

She is facing a terrible decision, who to save. So we move the camera to focus only on them. Is an intimate moment.

I like this framing, Rayla is in pain, crying, Callum is listening, but by the framing we can se that he is holding her. Callum is there for her, always.

And that is how I finished my last sequences of season 6, with Rayla crying.

Working on this season was one of the honors of my life. And I can wait to share with you how was making season 7, because was... A LOT, for sure! hahahaha.

Hope you like this! And feel free to ask if you have questions about the storyboard process!

And thanks for all the notes, comments and support! It is truly appreciated!

A little bonus:

Look a the cool crew jacket that Bardel gave us when we wrapped seasons 4 to 7! (Finally I can show it without making it an spoiler of the name of season 7!!)

[nighttimeclassics]

so im just thinking about the Orpheus and Eurydice metaphor in Dead Boy Detectives again...

so i really cant get over the symbolism in the show's comparison between Edwin and Charles and Orpheus and Eurydice. I'm sure someone else more succinct than me has already talked about it but man i just have to because as a classicist it has been consuming my brain since it happened... this is going to be a shitty ramble, but we vibe

so in the show, it is Edwin who first realises his feelings for Charles, and is the first to to truthful about them. Given that, in most translations of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, Orpheus' devotion to his wife is seen as the "stronger love" between the pair. highlighted in later adaptations such as Hadestown, as Eurydice makes the active choice to go to the underworld and leave her husband rather than their wedding being overshadowed by issues "worse than any omens". therefore, Edwin could initially be seen as the Orpheus parallel. particularly when you consider that Edwin 'guided Charles from the darkness' when he was dying of hypothermia with the lantern

however, unsurprisingly, given that is it Edwin who escaped from Hell, and is returned to it, Charles appears as the Orpheus parallel, with Edwin being his Eurydice. this is obviously then made super explicit in the show with it being Charles rescuing/ leading Edwin out of Hell. but even then it is not that simple

In Ovid's Metamorphoses, when pleading with Hades and Persephone, Orpheus states "my wife is the cause of my journey. A viper [...] robbed her of her best years. I longed to be able to accept it, and I do not say I have not tried: Love won." and obviously at the core of both of these relationships, is a deep deep love between them, regardless of how that manifests. Something i think is a massive parallel that i haven't seen anyone talk about yet is the willingness to remain in the Underworld/Hell for their respective partners.

going back to Metamorphoses, when Orpheus is requesting Eurydice's return to the mortal world, he gives Hades and Persephone an alternative solution of sorts. he says "if the fates refuse my wife this kindness [of returning to life], I am determined not to return {to the mortal realm]: you can delight in both our deaths." now is this not effectively the same thing Charles says to the Night Nurse when bargaining with her to open a door to Hell??? Charles says "then open up a door and I'll go get him, then we're stuck in Hell and you know where we are, or, I bring him back and we're all yours. It's a win-win." tell me that these aren't the same. you cant.

But i do think the most interesting parallel is when Charles and Edwin are running up the spiral staircase. i am not mentioning the times when escaping Hell, Edwin overtook Charles running, because let's be honest, we all know he is the faster sprinter of the two given the 70 years he spent practising. so I am disregarding that. but what I do find fascinating is this - and why I said it was more complicated earlier; in the metamorphoses Orpheus is obviously given the stipulation that he must not look at Eurydice when guiding her out of the underworld, or the agreement "would be null and void". and its here that we see another reversal. during the majority of the run up the staircase, Charles is behind Edwin, because like we have established, he's speedy. but in this key moment, Charles takes the lead in their escape, walking in front of Edwin whilst making it clear that they need to keep moving. just like in the tale, Charles, fulfilling Orpheus' role, "Afraid [they] was no longer there, and eager to see [them], the lover turned his eyes", turns to look back at Edwin, delivering the ridiculously romantic, 'sorry, no version of this where I didn't come get you is there?'. however, after this he refocuses on continuing up the staircase, which is where Edwin steps in:

as you can see in the gif, currently, Edwin is in, what I'm going to call the 'Eurydice position', following the lover out of the afterlife. and it is Edwin, as Eurydice, who basically chooses to condemn himself to the underworld/ hell, allowing the demon to catch up with them just to 'see [his] lover' and ensure Charles knows that '[he] had been loved'. t

im just going to put the section where Orpheus looks back at Eurydice in here because I think its all relevant:

"Afraid she was no longer there, and eager to see her, the lover turned his eyes. In an instant she dropped back, and he, unhappy man, stretching out his arms to hold her and be held, clutched at nothing but the receding air. Dying a second time, now, there was no complaint to her husband (what, then, could she complain of, except that she had been loved?). She spoke a last ‘farewell’ that, now, scarcely reached his ears, and turned again towards that same place"

by forcing Charles to turn around and face him, Edwin is fulfilling the roles of both Eurydice and Orpheus. in this instance, he is the one 'stretching out his arms' to hold Charles, but he is also the one that could be sent/ dragged back to the afterlife for this, but he just had to make sure Charles was aware of his feelings for him, to know that he was 'loved'. and I think Edwin was potentially prepared to return to the Doll House, or at least believed he would be able to find it more bearable knowing that he had been able to bear his soul to Charles, eve if that meant Charles couldn't come back again and try to rescue him for a second time, which Orpheus tried to do in the Metamorphoses, "Orpheus wished and prayed, in vain, to cross the Styx again, but the ferryman fended him off" and I feel like we all know Charles would have also kept trying if he lost Edwin again.

i guess, what im trying to say, in the most long-winded way, is that Charles and Edwin don't fill binary roles of one of them being Orpheus and the other being Eurydice, they are both of those things to one another throughout the show and I think that's really beautiful and I have to give massive credit to whoever did episode seven because I really feel like they did their homework. even after all the ramble I have written I still feel like I haven't fully made the point I was trying to make, but I definitely got some of the way there I think

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

The Witch's Bodyguard

(3) I'm Bad At Love

Actress!Wanda Maximoff x Bodygaurd!Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda wants to know about your past

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: This is a hurt/comfort. Mentions of R's past relationship, abandonment issues

A/N: Wanda and R took over completely I did nothing it was all them

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @rroyale-109 @wandanat01 @scarlizziee @nixxnsworld

@snoozingredpanda @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsromanovaa @sweet--escape17

@natashamaximoff-69 @godhatesgoodgirls @kristalag @mfd-101

It's a almost a month into your job as her security guard when she finally asks, "Can I ask you something?" You look up from the book in your hand.

"You can ask me anything Ma'am." You respond, setting the book down and giving her your attention.

"When you signed the contract you corrected one of my lawyers about you being Miss. and not Mrs. Were you married before?" You feel your chest tighten at the question. It certainly wasn't the question you were expecting.

You feel your chest tighten at the question, a rush of memories flooding your mind like a relentless tide. It wasn't a topic you were used to discussing, let alone with someone like Wanda, but her gentle curiosity urges you to open up, if only for a moment.

"I was," you respond, your voice flat, devoid of the usual stoicism.

Wanda's expression softens, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sympathy and understanding. "Is it okay to ask about it? I don't want to overstep," she speaks delicately, her concern palpable.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, the weight of the past pressing down upon you. "It's not by any means a good story," you admit, your gaze flickering away from hers. "But if you want to hear it..."

Her unwavering gaze prompts you to continue, despite the reluctance gnawing at your insides. "We were high school sweethearts. Dated all four years, and when we turned 18, she wanted to get married. So we just went to city hall and did the paper thing. Said we'd do a big wedding when I was done with my tours."

You pause, the memories threatening to overwhelm you. "She was always so supportive, but when I came back from my last tour, things were different. Turns out she wasn't okay with waiting anymore, and I was in no condition from my last tour to do anything like a wedding. Came home ready to tell her about Val and the job opportunity, but she was gone... ten years, and she left me with a note."

The words hang heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of the pain you've carried with you for so long. Without realizing it, tears begin to blur your vision, a silent testament to the wounds that still haven't fully healed.

Before you can retreat into the walls you've built around yourself, Wanda is suddenly there, her arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. She's practically in your lap, her presence a warm anchor amidst the storm of emotions threatening to consume you.

Wanda's words wash over you like a soothing balm, her empathy a comforting presence in the midst of your turmoil. You're taken aback by the raw emotion in her voice, the sincerity evident in every syllable. It's a side of her you hadn't seen before, one that speaks to the depth of her compassion and understanding.

"I am so sorry, Y/N. You didn't deserve that. No one deserves that," she says, her voice trembling with emotion. "She could have at least waited and said it to your face."

Her words strike a chord deep within you, stirring emotions you've long since buried beneath layers of stoicism. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you allow yourself to be vulnerable, to acknowledge the pain that still lingers beneath the surface.

In a moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability, you find yourself pulling Wanda closer, your arms wrapping around her waist as she settles onto your lap. She allows your tears to fall freely, offering silent solace in the embrace of your shared grief.

For a fleeting moment, the roles are reversed, and you find yourself seeking comfort in the arms of the woman you've sworn to protect. It feels oddly liberating, this unspoken exchange of support and understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that binds you together.

As Wanda's comforting touch soothes the ache in your heart, time seems to blur into a haze of shared sorrow and quiet understanding. Minutes stretch into hours, the only constant the gentle rhythm of her hand rubbing circles on your back.

You try to apologize for your outburst, but Wanda cuts you off with a determined look, her hand cupping your face with a surprising tenderness. "Stop. You have nothing to be sorry about," she insists, her voice filled with conviction. "She broke your heart, turned your whole world upside down, and she just got to walk away like it never mattered. I don't know how she could have done that to you."

Her words strike a chord deep within you, stirring a sense of righteous anger at the injustice of it all. You find yourself lost in the depths of her gaze, her eyes reflecting a fire that matches the intensity of your own emotions.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull between you, you nod in silent agreement, a sense of solidarity forming between you like an unbreakable bond. When Wanda smiles at your acquiescence, your stomach flips with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation.

She's so close to you now, her warmth seeping into your very soul, and you can't help but notice how beautiful she looks in the flickering firelight. The urge to lean in and kiss her is almost overwhelming, a primal instinct that refuses to be ignored.

Your hands, which had loosened from their earlier grip, now find purchase on her hips, fingers curling around the curves of her body as if seeking reassurance in her proximity. The air between you crackles with tension, thick with unspoken desires and unexplored possibilities.

In that moment, with her so close and your heart pounding in your chest, you realize that perhaps, there's more to this connection than meets the eye.

As Wanda's gaze flickers downward to your lips, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins, a primal instinct urging you to close the distance between you. Her hesitation is palpable, but the hunger in her eyes speaks volumes, mirroring the raw intensity of your own longing.

You catch the subtle movement of her tongue darting out to wet her lips, a gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. The temptation to lean in and taste her is almost overwhelming, a magnetic pull that refuses to be denied.

But even as your instincts scream for release, you can't shake the nagging voice of reason at the back of your mind. You know the boundaries that shouldn't be crossed, the consequences that could come from succumbing to this forbidden desire.

And yet, in the heat of the moment, with her so close and the fire of passion burning bright between you, those concerns seem distant and inconsequential. All you can think about is the taste of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against yours, the sweet surrender of giving in to this undeniable attraction.

But as you gaze into her eyes, you realize that perhaps, just perhaps, this moment is meant to be savored, not rushed. And so, with a silent vow to honor the boundaries that keep you apart, you lean back just slightly, allowing the space between you to linger like a promise unfulfilled.

In that moment, with the fire still burning bright and the night stretching out before you, you find solace in the unspoken understanding that this desire, though powerful, is something to be cherished, not consumed.

"It's late, we should get to bed," you finally break the silence, the words feeling heavy on your tongue as you try to push aside the swirling emotions that threaten to consume you.

Wanda's pout is unmistakable, her disappointment evident in the downturn of her lips. For a fleeting moment, you're tempted to give in to the urge to stay, to lose yourself in the intoxicating allure of her presence.

But the weight of responsibility bears down upon you, a reminder of the boundaries that must be upheld, even in the face of temptation. You can't risk crossing that line, not when the consequences could be so devastating.

Wanda gets off of your lap, pout still adorning her face and its hard to ignore as the two of you make your way to her room, making sure she gets there safely. As she goes to enter her bedroom your hand grabs for her wrist. The action catches both of you off guard as your body moves on instinct, pulling her back into you, holding her against your chest. As you pull back you lean down giving a peck to her cheek.

“Thank you for everything tonight. It was something I needed.” Wanda’s face was flushed when you pulled back, making you smirk. “I’ll see you in the morning Ma’am.” You turned around, letting her go as you walked down the hall to your room. Maybe one day you’d be able to give yourself to her, but not tonight.

[totallynotashieldagent]

Kinktober 2024 - Role Reversal

Pairing: Barry Allen/Reader

Barry always thought he was doing good for you. He liked doing good for you. He enjoyed being tied up, being at your mercy. He had too much on his shoulders in his life as a hero that the bedroom was his reprieve. A safe haven. He could let go. Cry, beg, whimper- Be at your feet and you’d praise me for it. 

However, right now, he wasn’t so sure anymore. 

“What?” You smiled at him, looking up from your book. 

“Nothing.” He said smoothly. 

But it was something. More than just- He’d read the book you were currently reading when you’d gone to drink water. He’d seen the obscenity that you were reading with a straight face and a casual smile. But it wasn’t that. No, it wasn’t that you were consuming the filth. Hell, you two had been plenty filthy ever since you got together. 

But this was so different than what you and him did. You were reading something he hadn’t ever been with you. 

“Bed?” He asked, hoping you’d get the hint. 

You nodded, “Let me just finish this chapter.” You didn’t look up, “What are you feeling like tonight?” 

It was a simple enough question. Same as every time before they did anything. 

“I want to try something new.” Barry said, standing up, stalking closer until he towered over you. “Can we?” 

“Sure,” You smiled, putting your book aside, “What did-”

“I want control tonight.” His words make you pause, you blinked in surprise a little. “You heard me.” 

“But we-” You were cut off with his hand grabbing your jaw. 

“I know. But we’re not. Not tonight.” He said, his breath mingling with yours. You swallowed a little, nodding. “Same rules?” You nodded again. “Good girl-”

Your eyes widened even more. “Barry-” You gasped softly, his lips just barely brushing against yours. Your neck was pulled up as much as possible from your sitting position. His grip was tight on your jaw. He shushed you, his lips grazing yours. 

“No speaking unless spoken to, remember?” He whispered, reminding you of your own rules during play for him. You nodded again for him. “Now-” He smiled, still not kissing you, still just leaning over, his breath ghosting your skin, setting everything aflame. “I want you to go and put on that red teddy we got last month and sit pretty on the bed until I come. Okay? Say yes.” 

“Yes-” You whispered. He let go and you slumped back into the chair, your heart in your throat. You slowly got up and went to the bedroom to change, still confused by the sudden change of demeanour. It wasn’t unwelcome but it was… surprising. 

You were kneeling in the middle of the bed when he came into the room. The outline of his cock was clear and visible as he entered in just his boxers. You wore the crotchless red teddy that didn’t leave much to the imagination. It was all just lace that covered your nipples and waist tastefully. 

“Look at you.” He smirked, moving around the room like a cat, closing the door, turning down the lights to a soft yellow hue for mood lightening. “Ready, sunshine?” You nodded, unsure of what to expect. “We’ll go easy, okay?” He walked to the edge of the bed. You looked up with big eyes and he wanted to groan with how pretty you looked. 

He imagined he could fuck you stupid in under a second and before you’d even realize what happened, your pussy would be leaking his cum. He tucked that thought away for some other time. 

“Open.” His thumb traced your lower lip and you, oh so obediently opened your mouth for him. His thumb pressed down on your tongue, eyes locked and he smiled. “Could get used to this sight, you know.” You couldn’t help but smirk around his thumb. A soft exhale of a giggle left you.

“What are we gonna do, Barry?” You mumbled around his thumb. 

His face darkened, a light slap coming down your cheek as he held your face in place with his thumb in your mouth and his hand under your jaw. 

“I told you, baby. No speaking unless spoken to. Remember?” He reminded you. You swallowed around his thumb, the slap shooting to your cunt and nodding. “Good. Now… Think of a number between one and ten. And tell me what you pick.” 

You know exactly where this is going. You can’t say a number too low and get punished but a high number would be your doom as well. 

“F-Four?” You said carefully. 

“Four?” His knuckles caressed your cheek. “We can do four. Lay back-” 

You nodded and pushed back until you were lying flat on your back. He pried your legs open and settled in between them. You were about to ask something when you saw his hand in the air and how it started to buzz as he reached down to your pussy. Oh no- This was going to be-

You gasped immediately as soon he touched you. Your hips bucking, you moaned and pushed up towards him. His other hand clamped down your mouth. 

“Told you, baby- No talking.” He grunted, his hand working worse than a Hitachi against your clit. You whined and gasped against his hand. The first orgasm was quick approaching. You hated how well he knew your body. How much time and effort he’d put into learning it. Because all that was now coming back to bite you in the ass- 

You cursed behind his clamped hand, feeling the coil in your stomach, tighten, your lungs burn for air as you tried to gasp and cum. And just when you were almost there, he pulled away. You breathed in heavily, looking him with confusion. 

“Aww.. baby…” He cooed, his voice sweet but his eyes were feral. “You said four, remember?” You still didn’t know what he meant. “Four times I get to edge you.” 

Fuck- That’s definitely not what you’d had in mind. You’d assumed four orgasms. Because that’s the game you always played with Barry. But to be edged four times? Like that? You were sure you’d lose your mind by the end. 

“Now-” His hand went back to your clit and you cried out at the suddenness, “Still not behaving, baby? Don’t make me do it six times-” 

Your own hands hand down on your mouth to shut you up. Your eyes were rolled back and your back was arched off the bed. Everything felt so good and- and- and- so close, so close, maybe I could just- 

“Ah- ah- not so fast-” Barry laughed softly, and your hands fell away from your mouth with an annoyed huff, “You really thought you could pull a fast one on me, honey?” His drenched hand wrapped at your throat, his index and middle fingers pushing their way into your mouth. “That’s a good girl.” You sucked his fingers but glared at him angrily. He laughed again and shook his head, “Okay, okay- You can talk now.” 

“Fuck you.” You pouted, “Let me cum!” 

“Not yet, pretty girl.” He said softly, pushing his boxers down to reveal his blushing cock. The tip was angry red and already leaking. “I’m going to make you lose your mind first.” He smiled, slowly starting to rub his dick at your desperate, sopping cunt and not letting you take him. His other hand rested at your hips, making sure you didn’t move too much and force him into yourself. 

“Barry- Baby- Please-” You whined again, trying hard to wiggle your hips but his hand kept you down firmly. His cock painfully teasing at your already bullied clit. 

He smirked, “What? Getting to three already? Such a needy girl.” You whined, falling back into the bed. Your fists clenching in the sheets tightly with anger and desperation.

His dick rubbed against your pussy slowly and with just enough pressure at your clit to start to fray your nerves. The bastard was right. Three was happening already. You pressed the heels of your palms at your eyes with a groan, still trying to buck and somehow just get him to put it in. 

Soon enough, your stomach was starting to tighten and flex. A signal for Barry to slow down and stop. He pulled away again, smug and proud. 

“You know, sweetheart-” He drawled, “I get why you like being incharge. It’s addictive. The control.” He pumped his dick. His hand slid over it easily as it was drenched in your slick. “Maybe we should do it often, hm?” He slapped your thigh playfully.

“You’re the worst-” Your mind was starting to give up. Three times you’d almost cum and three times he’d pulled away to tease you. 

“Yeah?” Barry chuckled, kneeling between your legs, and pulling your thighs around his waist. “Don’t worry, pretty. I’m gonna give it to you finally.” 

“Fucking finally-” You laughed breathlessly, pulling him down, your arms wrapping around his neck. His face was buried in the crook of your neck and as he slid into your snug cunt, he groaned desperately. 

Teasing you relentlessly had driven him half-mad as well. 

“Fuck- You feel s’good-” He moaned, slowly starting to move. He breathed heavily and knelt up straight, holding your waist tightly. Looking down at your wrecked state turned him on even more. The sheen on your skin, the parted lips gasping for air, the way your eyes closed and how your fingers twisted your own nipples for more stimulation. He growled and held your wrists above your head. “Only I give you pleasure tonight, sweetheart.” 

“Barry-” You whined, resisting against him but it was no use. 

He was a super and you simply weren’t. 

“Please-” You begged again. Shame and self-respect were long gone. You just needed to cum now. You weren’t even sure if he’d edged you four times already or not? Or if he had just lied and done it more times? You had no idea. All you knew was that your body was on fire and you needed to cum. 

Barry moaned, a laugh somewhere mixed in the sound as his hips thrust harder. The sound of skin against skin echoed in the bedroom followed by your gasping whines every time his cock pushed up at your g-spot. Your nails clawed at his hand that held your wrists. His other hand was holding your hips so tight that you were sure it’d leave a mark and you wouldn’t be able to sleep on that side for days but god, maybe this is what heaven was supposed to feel like?

His pace stayed steady and hard but then something more happened that made your entire body arch off the bed with a scream. He started to vibrate. His cock was pistoning but also doubling as an angry Hitachi and now, tears were streaming down your face. You were so close but he wouldn’t give in. 

There was babbling of begging mixed with gasps and cries. 

“Wanna cum, pretty girl?” He cooed and you all but screamed a yes. “That’s it- Cum for me-” He growled, his hand letting go of your wrists and finally touching your clit with a light buzz to his thumb. 

The touch ignited your entire body. You’d never felt this alive before. Your body was convulsing almost achingly as you arched. Your nails clawed angry red marks across his biceps, crying out his name as you came, squeezing his dick hard. 

“There she is- That’s my good girl-” He growled, his hand not letting up and his relentless rhythm not faltering. 

Your pussy was swallowing him up tightly and god, if he died right now, he would ascend to heaven, he knew it. 

Your body shook violently as you came again? twice? you weren’t sure- it was so overwhelming and all-consuming, and all you knew was his name at this point. Barry- Barry- Barry- You cried out, your nails drawing blood on his back. He didn’t care, he knew it would heal. Even if it didn’t, fuck it all to hell, this was paradise and his cock was in nirvana itself. 

“Please- please- I can’t-” You sobbed, tears streaming down slowly, disappearing into your hair. 

“One more, baby- Just one more- I know you can-” He rutted into you hard, his speed coming into play. 

You weren’t sure what was up or down anymore. All you knew was that his cock was fucking you into the mattress, his hand was vibrating at your clit and your vision was blurring out from pleasure. 

The scream that ripped from your throat made you taste copper and your body felt like it was genuinely on fire. Your cunt gushed like it had never before, Barry’s abdomen glistening with your squirt- He was so shocked that he’s accomplished it and with how hard your pussy was clenching, how desperately you were mewling for him, all his bravado crumbled finally. 

You felt hot cum fill you up and Barry doubled over onto you, his breath coming in broken gasps as he groaned against your neck, showering praises and whining desperately as he kissed everywhere he could reach. All his I want control broke. He was putty for you, holding you close, his hips stuttering against yours to prolong yours and his orgasm. 

“Sweetheart-” He groaned after a while. “That- fuck-” He whispered hotly against your neck. “I can’t- You- Oh god-” 

You moaned, your head thrown back, meeting his slowing down movements, your throat raw, your mouth dry, your stomach wet from your own juices, and your pussy full of him- 

You laughed breathlessly. “You did good, baby- Real good for your first time.” 

“Yeah?” He looked at you from the corner of his eye, a lopsided smile on his face, “Thanks-” He mumbled again against your shoulder.

Kinktober 2024.

[gaysindistress]

hey, i just saw your wolverine thought and im literally BEGGING for sub!logan... like maybe he's not that into the idea at first and then he really enjoys it?? pls im starving

I assume you mean this one my darling?

I’ve had like zero motivation to write but can I offer you a nice playlist as well as a visual that describes Logan’s sub journey?

(Hopefully the spark will return and I can write this for you 🥹🥲)

I hate you - Frank Carter and the rattlesnakes

We start with a classic “hate your fucking guts and can’t stand the sight of you” song. This would definitely start as a hatefuck that turns into something more meanful.

Desire - Meg meyers

As the night progresses, things are rough but now it’s about devouring each other.

Temptation - Ashley sienna

Soooooooo in the search of ‘accessories’, Logan finds a rather interesting looking….. we’ll call it a harness and a conversation ensues.

Figure you out - voilà

The title says enough; you figured him out within moments and know exactly what he wants even if he denies it at first.

Fetish - Selena Gomez

He’s going to think about it so much. It’ll become an all consuming hunger that nothing can sate until he gives into it.

Nasty - Russ

Role reversal time!

Heaven in hiding - Halsey

When he finally accepts that he is welcome in big bottom country, it really is heaven in hiding for sweet subby boi Logan.

All I can offer in terms of ✨visuals✨ is this lovely piece of fan art of astarion and the artist’s oc/Tav. Please look at all of his fanart because they’re all masterpieces and hugely inspired my sub Logan thoughts. (Credits to @meanbossart)

As for strap inspiration I present to you this fanart of Karlach that provided me the opportunity to create this post.

[mymarsmoonandstars]

It's been a week since I saw Wakanda Forever, and ever since, it's consumed my thinking. There are a million things I'd love to discuss about the film, but what keeps me up at night is Shuri and Namor.

Shuri had every right to gut his ass. Namor brought flooding and destruction to her home, killed her mother, all while knowing she was suffering from the death of her brother. Hell, Namor nearly killed her (by impaling her, which how did she survive that idk, anyway). And what was the worst thing that Shuri had done to him? Say no to his alliance to go to war with the surface world? Shuri wasn't the one who killed Namor's two subjects. She actually tried to save them. Yet just like T'Challa, she's forced to deal with the consequences of other people's actions, and when she stands over Namor with a blade to his neck, her internal struggle with this flashes across screen. It's a powerful sequence, but the one that captures me the most is when we hear her mother telling her to show Namor who she is. Not only is it one of many callbacks to the first film, but really, who is she? Who is Shuri? She is struggling with her identity, as grief often does to a person.

When audiences first met Shuri, she was the genius younger sister, the comic relief, who took solace in her lab. But now all this has been taken from her, and taken so suddenly. She's now front and center, now her country's most powerful figure, no longer the jokester, no longer a sister, no longer a daughter, and feels like a failure. The moments where she stands over Namor is us watching her return to herself but also become someone entirely new. She sees the destruction reverse. Sees Namor's hope. Sees their mothers and their nations. She understands that they are similar just as much as they are different. She finally realizes that ending Namor's life cannot reverse the destruction nor her pain, but sparing him is the answer to ending the cycle of it. She recognizes that even though her mother and brother are gone, she is still sister, still daughter. Death in Wakanda is a beginning.

Above all, Shuri understands she cannot think of only herself anymore. She cannot push her people to war because of her own grief and vengefulness. She becomes a leader, in granting mercy. A protector.  And extends this protection by offering it to Namor and his people. This brought a bitter taste in my mouth at first, but it isn't about who's right or wrong, especially when both sides have a little right or a little wrong to them. It's about navigating the actions of their forebearers in the best way they can.

Her multifaceted character is symbolized by her panther suit--it's reminiscent of T'Challa, Kilmonger, and her past self. Now that she's burned her mourning clothes, hopefully in the next movie, we'll see her accept this role with newfound confidence and surity of its purpose. I'm also hoping that Shuri kept Namor's little baby ankle wing that she sliced off and puts it up somewhere to serve as a reminder that she bested him. Can you imagine? I can't wait to see more of her.

Then there's Namor. And dare I say it, he was justified in his feelings of wanting to kill Queen Ramonda. She was cunning and tricked him and had two of his people killed in the process. Remember the scene where he's cradling his subject's face as she dies? And she asks if he can save her and he does not answer because he knows he cannot? And then--was it Namora?--who says, with such blame dripping in her voice, that he was busy meeting with the queen during Nakia's attack. Namor is so angry, and very possibly, so ashamed (and scared?). His ultimate goal is to protect his people, and he failed. He's a god and Ramonda made him look like a fool. To him, she had to go.

Ryan Coogler said that despite Namor being about 500 years old, he wanted him to still feel somewhat childlike. And is he! He's rash. He focuses only on the immediate response without thinking of the ramifications. He seems almost charmingly innocent in his hopefulness that Shuri would want to join him. There's no doubt they wanted us to feel a romantic connection betweeen them, or perhaps just from Namor's end. I don't know who gives clearance on the music, but whoever does, they are always very intentional and unique about it, and a love song plays during That One Mesmerizing Scene. The theories that Namor is infatuated with Shuri just weaken me. She's the first person to ever see Talocan. The bracelet. The mural. Him acknowdging her power. Him waiting for her to beckon him. I. have. folded. No one look at me.

I really hope the MCU explores their relationship. And though I'm sure it would never be a romantic one, that does not make it any less intriguing. Ryan is phenomenal with his villains. Just like Kilmonger challenged T'Challa not just with war, but challenged his core beliefs, Namor did the same with Shuri. The only difference now is that Namor is still alive, and this sets us up for a delicious exploration of a complex relationship between two leaders who have similar wants but conflicting perspectives.

Man. I love them. MCU, please let us see more of them. And if we do, please. Be careful with them.