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Leto and Jessica AND ME?! Yes PLEASE!! 😜

Okay finally thank you!!! I have so many ideas but I didn’t see any engagement so I thought I was the only insane person that wanted to be squished in between Oscar and Rebecca

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got accepted into college to be a paralegal, my skincare is done, I’ve got new pajamas and sheets on my bed, the leaves have returned and the sun doesn’t go out till 10, I’m rewatching GoT and TVD again. I fear 2022-23 ruie’s time to get to work.

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In Mockingjay, Katniss’s squad was called squad 451. Like the book Fahrenheit 451°.

Plutarch Heaveansbee, the man who had a huge ass library, and libraries were considered RARE, named them after a book about censorship.

Plutarch is such an interesting character, the fact that he was trying to stop the games for at LEAST 25 years. And he was so devoted it makes you wonder why he even cared.

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Nathan: Come here, taste this.

*hands you a drink*

You: Strange flavor... what is it?

Nathan: I synthesized the taste of your pussy and made it into a drink.

You: *throws the mostly-full glass in the garbage* I’m going for a walk. DO NOT come with me.

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I love how even as team blacks, they care about everybody’s plot lines. like yes alicunt, but can we make her an actual evil cunt and not just a cunt?

Alicent stans' tweets be like "Alicent serves cunt", "Alicent's body tea", "Alicent's face card" or "movement of Alicent's hips when she was riding Cole was hypnotic" sound as if Alicent's actress was a porn star and her fans were deeply disinterested in her acting skills

You know what, if I had to watch another sex scene between these two, I'd also look for a place to look, and maybe the hips would be the safest… Alicent barely had any kind of sensible plot in season 2 (apart from making a Pikachu shocked face that people would die in the war, being shocked that Viserys didn't want Aegon on the throne, and forgetting that she'd been telling him since childhood that he'd be king… and the swimming scene, which was very important), so they had to try to find something that worked. Sort of.

[shruiee]

OH MY GOD IM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH! LLH HAS MY HEART

𝐒𝐢𝐫, 𝐘𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚'𝐚𝐦

Description: he’s my bodyguard—tall, strong, and always in control. Until the door closes behind us. Then he kneels. He begs. And he takes everything I give him. He lives to be used, to be praised, to be ruined—just for me. And tonight, I don’t plan on going easy.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, sub!harry x dom!y/n, praise kink, degradation kink, light choking, spitting, orgasm denial, overstimulation, implied face sitting, dirty talk, begging, light bondage & aftercare. Readers +18.

Word count: 5K.

author note: another day, another one shot. this one's also a request I loved writing about. there’s something about sub!harry that always gets me. anyway, i hope this is what you were waiting for babe. and i hope everyone enjoys it 🫶🏻

*****

The car ride back from the gala is quiet, the kind of silence that buzzes with tension—like the sharp edge of a blade pressed against soft skin. Harry sits across from me in the blacked-out SUV, legs wide, hands resting on his thighs, jaw tight. His hair is still tied back the way I asked—half-up, loose tendrils curling at the base of his throat.

He hasn’t looked at me since we left the event. Not really. Not the way he had all night. But I’ve seen the way he watches. The way he moves closer when other men get too near. The way he presses his hand into the small of my back just a second longer than necessary. Always the professional. Always in control. Except when we’re alone. He adjusts his cuffs. I cross my legs, dragging the hem of my red silk dress up a little higher.

“Something wrong?” I ask, tone syrupy sweet.

His eyes flick up to meet mine in the dark. Stormy green. Hungry.

“No, ma’am,” he says lowly. A pause. Then I smile.

“Good.”

The elevator ride to the penthouse is painfully slow. I don’t speak. Neither does he. He walks behind me like a shadow, one step off my heel, every movement perfectly measured. But I hear the shift in his breathing. I feel the heat pulsing off him. I know what he’s thinking. And when the suite door finally closes behind us with a soft click, I drop the keys on the entry table and turn around slowly. He’s standing there like he always does—shoulders squared, arms behind his back, eyes trained on my face. That unreadable expression he wears for everyone but me.

“Take off your jacket,” I say softly.

He obeys immediately, sliding the black fabric off his shoulders, folding it without a word. But when he looks back at me, the tightness in his jaw has returned. I raise an eyebrow.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Harry?”

He swallows. His voice is quiet. “You looked… distracting tonight, ma’am.”

“Distracting?”

His gaze flicks down to my legs, then back up. “Yes, ma’am.”

I take a slow step toward him. Then another. Until we’re chest to chest and I can smell the faint mix of cologne and leather lingering on his shirt.

“You kept staring,” I whisper.

“I didn’t mean to.”

I hum, fingers reaching up to unfasten the top button of his shirt. “You never do. That’s the problem.”

His breath catches as I undo the second button. His hands stay behind his back. He knows better.

“You think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me all night? Like you were ready to drop to your knees in the middle of that ballroom?”

His eyes flicker with something dark and desperate. “I would’ve. If you’d asked.”

My hand slides over his chest, down his stomach, to the belt around his waist.

“I’m asking now,” I say quietly. “Kneel.” And he does. Instantly. Like he’s been waiting all night.

He kneels like it’s second nature—spine straight, knees apart, hands resting on his thighs. But it’s the way he looks up at me that makes my breath catch. That quiet devotion in his eyes. That subtle, barely-there tremble in his jaw. I love him like this—brought to his knees by nothing but my voice.

I move slowly, circling him. The heels of my stilettos click softly on the hardwood as I drag a single finger across his shoulder, letting my touch trail over the back of his neck and down his spine. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t shift. But his breathing changes—sharper, shallower.

“Take your shirt off.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Fingers move fast, unbuttoning what I didn’t finish, sliding the fabric off until it pools around his knees. His bare chest rises and falls with each breath, tattoos dancing over his skin in the low light.

“Now your belt. Just the belt.”

He fumbles slightly this time—only for a second—but I notice. I always do. The soft clink of metal fills the room as he unfastens it, hands falling back to his thighs once the task is done.

“You nervous?” I murmur, running my fingers over his shoulder again, nails just barely scratching his skin.

“A little,” he admits, voice rough and low. I stop in front of him, looking down.

“Why?”

He blinks. “Because I know what I need, and I know you’ll give it to me.”

A sharp pulse runs through me. God, he says things like that and doesn’t even realize what it does to me. Or maybe he does.

“Say it.”

He swallows. “I need you to take control.”

My hand tilts his chin up until he’s forced to look me in the eyes.

“And if I decide to ruin you tonight?”

His eyes flutter closed for a beat. When they reopen, they’re darker. Hungrier.

“Then ruin me, ma’am.” I smile.

“Take your pants off. Leave the briefs.”

He moves quickly this time, standing just long enough to slide them down his thighs before kneeling again. He looks so good like this—broad chest bare, collarbones sharp under the skin, thighs spread wide. And between them, the outline of his cock straining against his tight briefs. I run a hand over the bulge, watching him twitch.

“You’re hard already?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“For what?”

“You.”

“Always for me,” I whisper, applying just enough pressure to make his hips jump. “Never for anyone else.”

“Never,” he swears.

I tug on his hair. Just a little. Just enough to tilt his head back.

“Good boy.” He exhales shakily, lips parted, eyes glassy. “You want to touch me, don’t you?”

His voice cracks. “So bad, ma’am.”

“But you won’t, will you?”

“No, ma’am.”

I step closer until the toe of my heel is nudging the inside of his thigh. His breath hitches. His eyes never leave mine.

“Take my dress off.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second, then brings his hands to my waist, carefully sliding the zipper down. The silk falls to the floor in one smooth motion, and his breath catches when he sees what’s underneath—black lace, nothing else.

“Look at you,” he murmurs before he can stop himself.

I arch a brow. “That sounded a lot like talking out of turn.”

His lips part. ���I—I’m sorry—”

“No. Don’t apologize. Open your mouth.” His eyes widen slightly, but he obeys. I lean down just enough to spit past his lips, watching it drip onto his tongue. “Swallow it.”

He does. Without a sound. Then licks his lips like he’s proud of it. I hum approvingly.

“On the bed,” I command. “Flat on your back. Hands above your head. Don’t move unless I tell you.”

He scrambles to his feet and climbs onto the bed without question, cock now straining against his briefs, chest heaving, pupils blown wide. This is my favorite version of him—obedient, desperate, silent unless spoken to. He looks wrecked already—and I haven’t even touched him properly. Flat on his back, arms stretched above his head, long curls fanned out across my pillows like he was made to ruin them. His chest rises and falls fast, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare. Not until I give him permission.

I take my time climbing onto the bed, crawling up over him with my palms pressed to the mattress on either side of his ribs. He watches me like I’m divine. Sacred. Untouchable. I lower myself down until my lips hover just above his.

“You want to come?” I ask, voice sweet like honey, laced with venom.

His throat bobs. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You think I’ll let you?”

He exhales shakily. “No, ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

He moans—just from the praise. Just from the sound of my voice. I shift lower, straddling his hips and grinding down against the outline of his cock through the thin fabric. He gasps, bucking up instinctively, and I press one hand flat to his chest, the other wrapping lightly around his throat.

“Ah, ah. Don’t move.”

“Sorry—fuck—sorry.”

“You really are desperate, huh?”

His eyes flutter closed like he can’t take being seen like this. But I want him vulnerable. I want him trembling under my control. I roll my hips again, slow and steady, until I feel the twitch of his cock and hear the quiet whimper he tries to swallow. I lean in, lips brushing his ear.

“You gonna beg for it, baby?”

“Please,” he breathes. “Please let me feel you. I’ve been good, I—fuck—I need it so bad, ma’am.”

I hum, pleased. “You’re not even inside me yet, and you’re already falling apart. How pathetic.”

He lets out a broken little sound, equal parts pain and arousal. I sit up and slide my panties to the side, pulling his briefs down just enough to free him. He’s rock hard, flushed and leaking, the head glistening in the low light.

“You wanna come inside me, sweet boy?”

He nods eagerly. “Yes, ma’am. Please—please, I’ll do anything—”

I cut him off by sinking down onto his cock in one slow, controlled movement. He cries out, hands gripping the headboard like he might float away if he doesn’t anchor himself.

“Shhh,” I whisper, curling my fingers tighter around his throat. “You take what I give you. Nothing more.”

He nods again, nearly frantic. “Yes, ma’am—fuck—it feels so good—”

I ride him slow, grinding my hips with purpose, watching his mouth fall open, eyes glassy and wet.

“Look at you,” I murmur, dragging my nails down his chest. “So big, so strong… and still you let me use you like this. Let me fuck you till you cry.”

His head falls back against the pillow. “M’close—please—I can’t—”

I clench around him and still my hips.

“Don’t you dare.” He whines, hips twitching, trying to hold still. His entire body’s shaking now. “I said you don’t come unless I tell you to. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am—yes—fuck—I’m sorry—”

“You’ll be sorrier if you keep testing me.”

I roll my hips once—deep, slow, enough to make him shudder—and his breath catches.

“You’re gonna hold it,” I tell him. “You’re gonna lie there and take every second of what I give you. You’re gonna thank me for using you like the filthy little plaything you are. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he gasps. “Thank you—thank you, I—”

But his words break off into a cry as I start to move again, harder now, rhythm building with purpose. His fists are white-knuckled on the headboard. His thighs twitch under mine. He’s panting, desperate, so close he’s practically vibrating. I lean down again, teeth grazing his jaw, breath hot in his ear.

“You wanna come?”

“Yes—please—I can’t—I need to—”

“Beg.”

“Please, ma’am—please let me—been so good—need to feel it, need you to—”

“Now,” I whisper, clenching around him.

He sobs as he comes, back arching off the bed, hands flying to my hips without thinking. Thick and hot, he spills inside me with a broken moan of “Thank you—fuck—thank you, ma’am—”

And I don’t stop. Not yet. He’s trembling. His chest is heaving, slick with sweat, and his hands are still gripping my hips like he doesn’t know how to let go. His eyes are wide and unfocused, mouth parted as if he wants to speak but can’t form the words.

I keep grinding down onto him, slow and deep, making sure he feels every aftershock. Every throb. Every second of overstimulation that drags little gasps and broken moans from his throat.

“Please,” he breathes, voice barely audible. “I can’t… it’s too much—”

“You’ll take it,” I whisper, cupping his jaw. “You’ll take it because that’s what you’re made for.”

He nods, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Not pain—never pain. Just complete surrender. Pure submission.

“I’m yours,” he whispers, like a prayer. “Always.”

I slow down then, easing off him gently, watching him twitch beneath me, his entire body shaking from the release. I can feel the mess between us—his cock softening, his cum leaking out of me, soaking his thighs. He looks so good like this. Fucked out. Devoted. Mine.

I climb off of him and stroke his chest softly, dragging my fingers down the center, tracing every inch of inked skin like it belongs to me. Because it does.

“You did so well for me,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his damp forehead. “Such a good boy.” He whimpers at the praise, tilting his face toward me, eyes heavy, lips still parted. “Let’s clean you up, yeah?”

He nods, and I guide him into the en suite bathroom. He leans on me, muscles loose and shaky. I sit him on the edge of the tub and run warm water over a cloth, wiping his chest first, then the mess between his legs. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. Just watches me with soft, glassy eyes like he still can’t believe I’m touching him. When I’m done, I kiss the inside of his knee, his hip, the center of his chest—small, slow kisses meant only for him.

We crawl back into bed together, and he buries his face in my neck, curling his arms around me like I’m the only solid thing left in the world.

“You okay?” I ask softly, running my fingers through his hair, loosening the tie so it spills down over his shoulders.

“Mmhmm.” He’s nearly asleep already. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For… everything.”

I smile into his curls. “My sweet boy.”

A beat passes. Then, in the quietest voice, he whispers—

“Yours.” And I believe him. Because he always is.

*****

hope you love this one babes 🫶🏻

@cloudyluun @gem1712 @dipmeinhoneyh @idk199o @harrrrystylesslut @sparxx27 @likea-silhouette @fangirl509east @mads3502 @run-for-the-hills @twinklaei @belgianblondee

[shruiee]

Also my god! The moon knight score list has changed something in my brain chemically. his character feels so personal and then you’d add that bad ass theme that’s haunting, and ancient with those little violins of tragedy in the back.

I think I’m mildly traumatized from this show, the kinda trauma I expected Euphoria and 13 reasons why to give me.

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i'm not invested in "harry potter was never good" conversations because it doesn't matter if it's good or not. quality does not positively correlate with socio-political praxis. it could be a really good piece of art, but if it's still supporting a vocal proponent of transmisogyny and transphobia, i don't give a shit. harry potter good or bad, who cares, its success is unambiguiously providing financial and social capital for a morally despicable person.

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Ahhh I love tumblr

it's actually UNREAL to me that they still wear those stupid fucking wigs in british courts ill forget about it and then remember all of a sudden and black out like howwwww can you still be doing that!

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Man I’ll never understand white celebrities with massive fandoms that they will use some sort of marginalized groups support to get and then be like oooo “and be politically educated!”

Like do you realize how privileged you have to be to say oh I don’t want to be politically educated? This when the south in Chapell started to show. I’m not even American but apolitical people present apathy in such infuriating ways. Like yea the world is burning but I don’t care.

Democracy sadly is a privilege and trust me I would rather a person be surface level informed than be bitter about having to be politically educated when you build your whole fucking image around standing up for trans rights, and union rights. Like if you are going to be politically active be consistent, not when it financially suits you.

It’s disgusting and disappointing.

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mafia tywin im begging you… how did they meet…. what kinds of nastiness… how does he punish her….

mentions of sa beyond the read more line. be aware

mafia tywin met his sweetie when he was visiting Tyrion’s club, maybe to yell at him or to see if the investment tywin had made into the club was being used appropriately. that same night sweetie was out with her friends as usual, maybe after acing her midterms she drank a little too much and just needed air.

Some random asshole tries to grab you, maybe gets a little too touchy and tries to kiss you but you are very incoherently refusing, pushing him away but he won’t stop.

That’s when Tywin is leaving the club, his town car pulled up to the gates and he notices this drunk dick head trying to wrestle you to a wall. He yanks the man off him and punches him and lets his goon take care of the rest.

(you know how carrying a handkerchief used to be chivalrous?)

You throw up in the gutter behind you, whimpering and coughing, all of this being too much. He gives her you his hanky very expensive and makes sure you either goes back to your friends or back home.

Because his initials are embroidered on the cloth, it doesn’t take a lot for you to internet stalk and find out who he is and where to find him so that you could return his nicely washed hanky. You can’t meet him again however, not without an approved meeting so you leave his hanky at the building reception with a thank you note and a zip lock baggie of cookies.

With that being said, you two fuck around a lot with power dynamics. Tywin just exudes intimidation from every pore and Sweetie just isn’t scared of him. This goes a lot into their bedroom life too. You’re a brat and Tywin knows just how to make you be a good girl.

I mean imagine how funny it would be if you kept airdropping him like pictures of your bra, maybe the nice lacy thong you were wearing while he is in an important meeting with lots of important people and he is older so the poor thing has no idea how to turn off his Airdrop and just sits there with a boner that he uncomfortably tries to cover.

After the meeting where you were waiting in his office so you could have lunch together but now you’re in trouble. He’s all like.

“Had fun playing your little game, did you darling?”

You’re all smirks and giggles.

“We had lunch plans and you were taking forever! I thought you needed some encouragement.”

He bends you over and his massive mahogany office desk, your skirt pulled up to reveal your plump ass. Your tube top pulled down and boobs spilling out of your bra, he used to spank you with his hands at first but then he realized how brazen you really are and his new weapon of choice is his belt.

“If you want to cum tonight my love, you better count nice and loud.”

His office was used to hearing this, the moans and yelps that would manage to pierce through his heavy office doors.

He’d fuck you against the floor to roof glass windows, high up on the 61st floor where you could see all of Casterton. Tits pressed against the cold glass, his big palm wrapped around your throat.

“Just remember sweetie, don’t start games you cannot finish, we could have had a nice lunch hmm, I’d have had my dessert after, had my tongue buried in this bratty cunt.” With every word he’s thrust harder, his regal accent stirring your heart, his hot breath and the smell of his cologne overwhelming your senses everytime.

“But no—” A harsh slap to your ass “You just had to behave like a harlot and embarrass me, what have I told you about disturbing me in my meetings little girl?”

“To wait un— until you’re done…. but I missed you.” you’d whimper, the feeling of an impending orgasm bubbling in your belly.

“Did you now? Go on then, let them hear how much you missed me, be my good little slut.”

hehehehe okie byeeeee

[shruiee]

I am so torn in terms of working on Rivers of Gold and the original Tears of Gold.

Tog kinda starts bang in the middle with no back story or anything but I like how far into their dynamic I had gotten.

Whereas RoG has some pretty good backstory about who the reader is, why she agreed to marry Tywin.

I’m thinking that maybe I write a few more chapters of RoG and just merge it into ToG?

Idk…. I’m so indecisive

[shruiee]

Can someone please explain this warnings, tags thing? I’m still being advised— more told by people that I’m not tagging correctly.

Isn’t it just like violence and the extreme stuff that you have to tag? Because if it’s smut I already write in the synopsis about what’s up.

Also personally I feel like media consumption should be a person responsibility not mine, like if you’re reading my fics and seeing something you don’t like— why not just close the tab…? Block my content…?

I’m not trying to sound insensitive, I just want it humanly explained lol. ei: I can’t read stuff about suicide unprepared, it makes me cry really bad and regress to a dark headspace so I avoid it. So having a warning about that makes sense since it’s such a sensitive topic. But why do I need to put a warning for literal sex acts…

oh they are eating pussy? WARNING

Ass too? WARNING

oh no, he just chokes her a little. ⚠️ WARNING.

wait they are talking about trying to have a baby ⚠️ WARNING

The worst of which I’ve heard is to put warnings on my queer fics… now maybe I’m being a snowflake but is that not a little homophobic… like you’re triggered by gays and lesbians? What are they gunna do throw crystals and dildos at you through the screen. I’m really trying to be safe navigating coming back this time so I can really avoid any kinda cancel drama… so like help. Am I being dramatic?

[shruiee]

Modern! Mafia Tywin’s gf….. YEAH

Roberto Cavalli | Fall/Winter 2025

[shruiee]

Also idk why that first black and white photo of him reminds me of a cocker spaniel dog lol

just to make sure we are all on the same page ladies.

This is who Joanna Lannister was married to

how has Charles Dance not done romantic comedies…. or tragedies more….

Those eyes!!!!!

[shruiee]

just to make sure we are all on the same page ladies.

This is who Joanna Lannister was married to

how has Charles Dance not done romantic comedies…. or tragedies more….

Those eyes!!!!!

[shruiee]

do you think back in the day someone might have put a crystal in their hooha?