#it is just a good reminder to trust myself in the present

[notjaexiee]

CHERRY LIPGLOSS SUCKS

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: You and Regina have a long-standing history together, and now, with your exes pairing up in a new relationship, you are reluctantly forced to work together to win them back. Will the familiarity bring you closer, or will old habits resurface, leading to further tensions?

Warnings: manipulative regina, profanity, beginner fanfic writer:so mid writing, mentions of weed and mozzarella sticks

Words:1.3k

A/N:Thank you so much for all the support on Part 1, especially to that one user who reblogged and said "go read or u suck" I LOVE U.

Regina's words echoed in my mind like a stuck record."

"Ill see you tomorrow, after school, underneath the bleache-"

"Dude!" Mae jolted me out of my thoughts, snapping. My brain instantly refocused on the present moment.

The final class had just 5 minutes left, and I had to meet Regina. I hadn't had a genuine and meaningful conversation with Regina in a while. Our last talk had taken place years ago, and it didn't exactly conclude on the best terms.

-

"Did You really have to be that honest?!"

-

"Y-Yeah?" I stammered as I shook my head, desperately trying to clear my mind.

"Are you even paying attention?" she asked with an eye roll.

Trying to cover up my shit, I responded with a snort, "Of course!" hoping she would buy my lie.

Unconvinced, she asked, "So, when is Anders' soccer game?"

Ander plays soccer?

I gulped, "Tomorrow?" I replied, my voice smaller.

"Ander has asthma, dumbass." She pointed out

My shoulders sagged as I let out a resigned sigh, muttering under my breath, "fuck you, reverse psychology."

"You good?"

I attempted to brush off Mae's concern, replying, "It's nothing."

She gave me a skeptical look, countering, "Bullshit. You didn't even touch those mozzarella sticks I brought you. You love mozzarella sticks."

"I was full," I argued lamely, attempting to defend myself.

Mae raised a skeptical eyebrow, reminding me, "You guzzle down a Red Bull every morning for breakfast. Your 'full' card doesn't fly, genius."

"I'm just not in the mood today, okay?" I reasoned again

"Fine," Mae conceded, slightly annoyed. "I'm going to go help Brynn roll some. Want to join?"

I shook my head, declining her offer.

"Nah, I have something to do," I responded, already turning to leave the classroom.

Mae looked at me suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. "Okay..." she replied, still doubting my excuse.

I was growing increasingly annoyed as I waited for Regina under the stinking bleachers. The place absolutely reeked, and I had been tapping my foot in irritation for far too long.

"I'm a bit surprised you actually showed up."

Regina stated as she approached me with a confident stride.

I responded in a sarcastic tone, rolling my eyes, "Yeah, blackmailing me about my friends really works wonders."

I glanced around, surprised not to see Gretchen and Karen accompanying her, as usual.

I couldn't help but comment, "Where are your backscratching bootlickers?" I raised an eyebrow.

With a slight tilt of her head she responded with a snarky remark, "Your mouth is still as vulgar as ever, i guess some things never change."

"As if you're any better." I mumbled under my breath, too low for her to hear

"Woah woah, dating!?" I replied, thoroughly taken aback. "No way am i going to be your girlfriend!"

Regina quickly corrected me, "Pretend." She rolled her eyes, growing impatient with me. "Do you want Tina back?" She asked, her annoyance clear. "Then there's no question about it.

I wrestled with the idea, questioning if it was even worth the effort.

My face twisted in doubt as I questioned her plan. "How do you even know this will work?"

Regina's voice took on a venomous tone as she snapped, "Can you just shut up and trust me?"

My scoff turned into a mocking laugh. "Trust you, Regina?" I taunted

-

I sat alone in my darkened room, tears streaming down my face as I clutched my teddy bear tightly for comfort. My room looked like a cyclone had gone through it; pillows and blankets scattered every which way, and pieces of paper and pictures torn up. I could hear my mother's concerned voice outside my door, saying Regina wanted to talk to me. I shouted back, my voice shaking with anger, "Tell her to fuck off!"

-

I scoffed in disbelief. "Right, because the last time I trusted you really worked out well for me." The memory of her betrayal still stung.

"Can we not discuss that right now?" Regina replied sharply, but my anger remained.

The audacity of this bitch is terrifying!

"We're going to have to work together, so if you keep bringing it up, you're just making this more uncomfortable than it already is."

My anger gradually faded, replaced by a begrudging acceptance. I hated to admit it, but she was right

— we I couldn't keep dwelling on the past if we were going to make this plan work.

I reluctantly agreed, "Fine," Part of me yearned for an acknowledgement, for her to address the past, but her lack of response just left me feeling disappointed.

Regina sneered disdainfully, her gaze traveling along my entire body, her eyes judging me. "What the fuck are you wearing?" she taunted, as if I had committed a fashion felony.

I looked down at my clothes, feeling a bit self-conscious. "What?" I replied defensively, unsure of the issue.

Regina abruptly grabbed my wrist, her touch surprisingly warm. Without a word, she began pulling me towards her red Jeep.

"where are you tak—" I started, but she quickly cut me off, her words laced with annoyance.

"I am not going to be seen with an outdated loser," she retorted, her grip not relenting as we approached her vehicle.

I stumbled slightly as she practically dragged me along, trying to protest, "It's just a band tee!"

My wrist felt the absence of her touch as Regina turned to open the driver's door of her Jeep.

As she settled into the driver's seat I glanced back at the passenger and the back seat, debating where to sit.

Opting for the safer choice, I reached out for the back door handle before Regina interrupted me.

"Sit in the passenger seat, idiot," she ordered, her tone cutting through the air.

Reluctantly, I opened the passenger door and slid into the seat beside Regina, sitting a slight distance away from her. As she started the jeep and began driving, I turned my gaze towards the window.

I tried once more to get an answer, my eyes still glued to the outside world.

"Seriously," I persisted, "where are we going?"

Regina's response was brief, "Shopping," she replied. "If I'm going to pretend to date you, you at least need some proper clothes."

The cafeteria felt oddly silent as a murmur of whispers surrounded me. I couldn't tell if it was my anxiety playing tricks on me, but the atmosphere felt eerily hushed.

"I hate this," I muttered under my breath, feeling the weight of everyone's gazes upon me. Wearing the clothes Regina had deemed socially acceptable yesterday made me feel even more out of place right now.

My train of thought came to a halt as my phone buzzed with a notification. It was a message from Regina: "Stop standing there like a statue. Come sit with us."

I glanced at my phone, finding a flurry of messages from my friends group chat. "Where are you?" and "What the hell are you wearing" filled the screen. I reluctantly raised my gaze to our usual table, only to see my friends staring at me, bewildered. Swiftly muting my phone, I headed towards the plastics table.

'Took you long enough,' she muttered, as I approached, her eyes glued to her phone, no doubt scrolling through Instagram.

Gretchen, a hint of false enthusiasm in her expression, looks up from her phone. "Why's she here?" she asks, peering at Regina through raised eyebrows.

Regina retorts with a deadpan tone, rolling her eyes slightly, "To sit with us.”

Gretchen, her voice rising in pitch, exclaims, "What?! She can't-" only to be cut off by Regina's firm interject.

"Sit," Regina says, her inflection leaving no room for argument.

I hesitantly moved to sit across them.

"Hey, sorry- uh," I greet, looking between Karen and Gretchen with a mix of confusion and frustration. "Why am I sitting here? This is not part of the plan!" I whisper-yelled at Regina, leaning in closer to avoid being overheard.

With a roll of her eyes, Regina replied, "Just go with it." She set her phone down, adding, "Tina's watching".

I glanced around the cafeteria, spotting Tina seated with her clique, watching me intently. In that moment, our eyes met, confirming that the first step of Regina's plan had been successfully executed.

Step one:Complete

A/N: next part is cadys arrival😱🥶

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

I have started associating the ritual of brushing out your hair with forgiveness

[hellobabydoll333]

How I manifest

Okay so I’ve consciously manifested a lot of things. Most of them I can’t even remember because I’ve known about the law for a long time, but I’ve only recently started to properly apply what I’ve learnt, so my past successes-before recently were scattered and I still didn’t realize what I was doing to achieve these successes but now I do.

I used to think people/blogs were always so vague and now I understand that it was the complete opposite. It was just THAT simple. Whatever resonates with you, there’s no need to over-analyze it over-consume. You know what to do. But Here’s what I did:

So I wanted a couple things. I made a whole note in my notes app… I made it a one week challenge.

I wrote ‘Stay loyal to the desired state until ___ (date). Come back and note progress.’

Desires:

Money

SP

Beauty

Results:

Everyday I look at myself in the mirror, I notice I’m getting prettier & prettier.

Had a conversation over text with this guy who is absolutely horrible at replying to texts. And we called a couple times as well. When I saw the first text (diff occasion than the conversation) I screamed literally and that’s honestly what started these successes and made me realize what I was doing.

My bank account definitely looks better at the end of the week than the start.

Trusting my imagination & loving in it has become so much easier

What I reminded myself of:

If I had ___ would I be worrying?

I love living in my imagination. It’s so fun up here.

I am my own guarantee.

The main things is that you need to take your focus off of the 3D & take back your power completely. I took control and I told myself I will persist no matter what. Of course, I slipped up sometimes but I returned to the state of ‘idc I’m the creator, whatever I say goes’. I wanted to call it the Barbie state because you know our girl Barbie is all about belief in herself but you know, it has a lot of names, wtv.

The point is that all you have to do is believe in yourself, you don’t even have to do that, just decide you have what you want/you’re getting what you want- whatever, decide something and stick with it. Stick with it. Stick with it. Discipline is so important. Think about how good things will be once you do. Think about how good things are because you are sticking with it. Be more present in having. Enjoy experiencing it. Whatever method/non method makes you feel fulfilled & like you have what you want (because you do) & you don’t even need to feel like you have it to have it so don’t even stress about that part, hunnies. But It’s so much fun, I promise.

Links to some posts that I honestly believe will help you with discipline & not motivation bc fuck motivation. It’s discipline you need:

Why you keep on failing by @heavenangelly

“Ignore the 3D” by @nondualiber

HOW TO ACTUALLY FEEL FULFILLED to by @luckykiwiii101

Motivation Is Not The Key 🔑 by @luckykiwiii101

And that’s it. This is so detailed. Hope this helped you!

Mwuah

[azrielbrainrot]

My Body Keeps Saying it's Yours

Pairing: Rhysand x Reader

Description: Some foolish males try to seduce you and Rhysand decides to show them who you belong to.

Warnings: Smut, Exhibitionism, Slight Dom/Sub dynamic, Abuse of power, Darker themes (not that much but just to be safe)

Word Count: 4304

Rating: 18+

Notes: This is just smut, couldn't get Rhys off my mind and this happened. Also I'm terrible with titles I'm so sorry. Enjoy!

You were making your way to your husband's office slowly. It wasn't that unusual for Rhys to ask you to come to his office in the middle of the day, you've shown up out of the blue so many times, for reasons as simple as finding a nice place for a nap or for a quickie on his desk, but something about the tone of his voice has you a bit nervous to find out what he's up to today.

Your suspicions are proven true when you open the door to find two males sitting on the sofa in the corner of his office, tied up in chains and, from the looks of it, under some sort of silencing spell, as they kept opening and closing their mouths to no avail, not being able to make a single sound. Their eyes were open wide in fear, almost begging you with their expression to help them.

You look back to your husband for an explanation but you find him sitting at his desk with a serene smile on his face, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. After a few moments of seeing you frozen in the middle of the office looking between the sofa and him, Rhys finally gets up, walking around his desk to stand in front of you.

“Welcome, my love.” He bends down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, still acting like this is a completely normal occurrence. At this proximity, you can, however, make out a glint in his violet eyes, one you know too well, one that promises trouble.

“What are they doing here, Rhys?” He merely keeps smiling down at you, running his thumb over your plush bottom lip. “What's going on?”

“I've never thought of myself as particularly lenient,” he starts with a sigh and traces a path down your jaw to the column of your throat, then wraps his hand fully around your neck, not pressing down, just holding you possessively, “but it seems some people still need to be reminded not to covet my things.” The new information has you frowning, looking back at the tied up males to try to make sense of it. “We're going to show them exactly who you belong to, darling.”

You remember now. These two males were invited to a banquet up in the House of Wind last weekend, just like so many of the more notable merchants in Velaris were. The economy in the city was thriving and Rhys thought it would be a good idea to celebrate the fae working hard to make that happen. The party lasted almost all night, which was to be expected in Velaris. Towards the end of the night, while Rhys followed through with his duties and entertained everyone in the room, you sneaked off to a quieter place for a moment to unwind. Azriel had sneaked off hours ago so you decided it was only fair that you got a break as well.

Unfortunately, two males, the ones present, had gotten too drunk or were just incredibly dumb and decided it was a good idea to try to seduce you, their High Lord's wife, in his own house. You tried not to cause a scene at the time, only slapping one of them and leaving Cassian to throw them out, but when you got back to the party, Rhys had immediately knocked at your mental walls to see what happened. You managed to convince him not to ruin the night for everyone and calm him down, showing him they hadn't actually done anything besides a few crude remarks.

Later that night, he had made it up to you, even apologizing for letting this happen. Of course you told him it wasn't his fault but you should have known your scheming High Lord wouldn't leave things at that. With a sigh you open your mind to him so hopefully he can show you what's going through his.

Do you trust me, darling? You'd be offended he even had to ask if you weren't so apprehensive about this situation. Every time you think you have a good read on his thoughts, he surprises you.

With anything. His answering smirk almost has you wishing to take the words back. He leans back against the edge of the desk, never breaking eye contact, and pulls you with him by your waist. Dropping a soft kiss to your lips, a kiss you know the meaning of too well. It's a reminder of sorts, of how much he loves you.

Your eyes move from his to the cowering males still tied up on the sofa. You have a feeling you know what he's about to do, what he wants to show them but you've never had an audience before. You can't help the anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

Do you want me to stop? You bite your lip and look back at him. You've never really thought about the possibility of anyone watching you in such a compromising position, but you don't think you're opposed to it at all. They won't do anything more than watch and you know Rhys will fix this if it all goes wrong anyway, one way or another.

No.

The look on his face as he leans down to kiss you again should be illegal, satisfaction and anticipation glowing beautifully on his features. This time there's nothing chaste about the kiss, it's nothing short of passionate. He's unhurried in his movements, letting himself taste you properly. I need you to be good for me now.

Breaking away from the consuming kiss, Rhys pushes you off him carefully to pick up one of the chairs by his desk. He carries it to the middle of the room and sets it back down so the confused males have a great view of it, sitting on it with spread legs, like a king on his throne.

He looks over to where you're standing and holds out a hand, you take it without hesitation, letting him guide you until you're standing in between his legs, with your back to them. You look down to his lap, taking notice of the bulge already waiting for you. He holds onto your waist to get your attention back on him.

“Take everything off first, my love.” You'd probably jump off the window to your left if he asked it in that tone of voice of his. You kick your shoes off first, slowly, while looking straight into his eyes. You know he has the power in this situation but you can't help but tease him at least a little, it'd be no fun if you just followed his every word blindly. He raises an eyebrow at the delay but he knows you too well, knows you don't really mean it.

The simple black dress drops to the floor soon after, leaving you only in your violet lacy panties. He seemed pleased at your choice, reaching out a hand to run his fingers over the hem of your undergarments. You thought he would be when you bought them, you just never imagined anyone else would see them. You suppose they help the point he's trying to make - a happy coincidence.

“I said everything.” You hook both your thumbs on each side of the panties and drag them down your legs slowly, making a show of bending down, letting your chest fall right into his line of sight. As you hear a gasp behind you, you remember they're also getting a show. The thought has you wanting to play into Rhys' idea even more, show them you'd never think of letting them touch you.

“Should I throw this at them?” You taunt as you dangle the piece of fabric from your index finger.

“No,” he reaches out for it and puts it in his pocket, “They don't get to smell how wet you are for me.” His words make you realize that you can't smell them at all, Rhys put up a shield between you. The possessive bastard.

“What will you have me do now, High Lord?” You know all too well exactly what he wants. Still, hearing him order you through it sounds delicious.

“On your knees, darling,” his smirk deepens when you obey immediately, “Take me out. Show them what you can do to me.”

You can see the imprint of his throbbing cock through his trousers. Not being able to resist playing with him a little you gather your hair to one side of your face and look up at him with doe eyes before leaning down to lick his erection through his pants, leaving an open mouthed kiss on the tip.

He hisses and grabs onto your hair, pulling your head away to look into your eyes. A warning. You try to fight your smile by biting your lip. You love when he gives you warnings.

Luckily for him, you can't wait to feel him in your mouth. You're also committed to showing the disrespectful males what they won't ever be deserving of. Reaching out for his trousers, you make quick work of the buttons holding them close. Pulling them and his underwear down enough to let his cock slap back to his stomach, looking painfully hard and absolutely delicious.

You grab onto it, feeling its familiar weight in your hand before wrapping your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around, tasting him. You pull back just to hear him growl and lick up a stripe up his length with a smile. Gods, he's going to wreck you tonight.

Taking him back into your mouth, you start taking as much of him as you can, getting lower with each bob of your head, sucking harder, tightening your hand at the base, just the way you know he likes. His hand tangles back in your hair, softer now. Almost petting your head and caressing your cheek tenderly as he watches you.

“Just like that,” he moans out, “Isn't she absolutely breathtaking?” His heavy lidded gaze moves from the exquisite view of your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock to the sorry excuses of males that dared to think they could take you from him. “Such a shame you won't ever get to feel her perfect mouth on you. Let me tell you, boys,” his gaze moves back to you, knowing the praise will get to your head, “It feels like heaven, hell and everything in between.”

You take him deeper in response, determined to get everything into your mouth. He rakes his fingers through your scalp and throws his head back in a breathless moan, letting himself get lost in the pleasure, forgetting the show momentarily. His hips start thrusting into your mouth, slowly at first to let you get adjusted but, when it's clear you can take it, he holds onto your hair tighter and takes over, fucking your throat with slow, deep thrusts.

You start to feel your arousal dripping down to your thighs. It seems you enjoy the spectators more than you thought you would, you don't remember the last time you were this wet without even being touched. Reaching a hand down your body, you gather some of your slick and bring it up, circling your clit in small motions, taking some of the edge off, moaning softly.

“Sucking my cock got you that needy?” He can try to tease you as much as he can but you can tell his voice is strained, he's getting close. Being watched is getting to him too, but it's the confirming moan you let out around his cock and whatever picture he finds in your open mind that has him moaning out your name and speeding up, uncaring of the slight choking noises erupting from you, cumming down your throat not long after.

He keeps thrusting into you slowly as he rides his orgasm out, mumbling mindless praise while stroking your head. After a few moments, he pulls you gently away from his sensitive cock and coos at you when you swallow the last bits of his cum without him even having to ask.

Rhys pulls you up and gives you a sloppy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. You wince slightly into his mouth as you take your likely bruised knees off the floor, moving up higher to sit across his lap so you can reach him better. Never breaking the passionate kiss, he starts caressing your sore knees, making you moan in contentment.

You're both lost in your own little world for a while, tasting and touching each other, but it seems like he remembered what you were there to do because he pulls away from you, smirking at the wrecked look on your face and the string of saliva connecting both your lips. You move back to suck his bottom lip into your mouth, licking the string connecting you away, drawing a breathless moan from his lips.

“We're being rude to our guests,” he says as he holds your hand up to his face, the still damp hand you had used to play with yourself before, and sucks the fingers into his mouth, moaning around them at your taste.

“You were the one who invited them.” As his tongue swirls around your digits, you can only think of the mind shattering pleasure he can bring you with that tongue. Your guests could keep watching or take a dive out the window for all you cared.

“And I promised them a show.” He takes your hand out of his mouth to speak and it brings a pout to your lips. It seems you won't get to feel his skilled mouth today. Later. You smile victoriously at the reassurance. So spoiled. That's your fault.

He smiles fondly at you before turning you around in his lap, leaning you back into his chest and spreading your legs over his, making you face said guests. Your eyes widen a bit at what you see, you hadn't looked their way since before you even took your clothes off. Being able to see them, with their faces morphed into awe and horror, and a noticeable bulge on their pants has a tiny glint of fear spark in your body.

Rhysand moves to reassure you as soon as he feels you tense, stroking your body tenderly and kissing your neck, whispering into your ear, “I'm right here.” You relax almost instantly, you don't have to worry about the consequences when you're with him. He wouldn't let either of them hurt you or even get close to you. “Let me take care of you.” You nod and relax further into him, letting him take over.

You let yourself wonder what you must look like in the males' eyes, spread over their High Lord, completely naked while he was fully clothed in his dark suit. One of his hands moves to rest on your stomach and the other grabs one of your legs, spreading them open even more so your guests can have a good look at your wet cunt, all for him.

“Having the privilege of watching is one you don't deserve,” he drops your leg, moving it over his so you can't close them even you wanted to, “But since you were brave enough to try to make a move on my wife,” he drags his hand from your stomach straight to where you need him most, playing around with the wetness, making you drop your head back into him with a soft moan, “It's only fair I show you exactly why you're not worthy of her.” Hearing him use his High Lord voice while he's taking care of you is making you tingly in all sorts of places.

After coating his fingers in your wetness, cursing softly at the amount he finds, he starts rubbing slow circles around your clit, just as you had done before. Letting you melt into him and become more malleable with each stroke.

“Do you hear that?” You open your eyes, not sure if he's talking to you or them but you get your answer when you see them nod with a terrified look on their faces. Seems like your husband got inside their minds. “That's all for me. All of this,” he pulls his hand away to show them the wetness clinging to his skin, connecting him to your pussy, “is mine.” You nudge your hips up, reminding him to keep giving you the attention you deserve after you did such a good job for him. He complies with a chuckle.

He speeds up his pace and moves one hand up to play with your nipples, teasing them just as he knows you like. When he starts tracing your neck with sloppy, open mouth kisses, biting you softly every so often, you realize he wants you to cum fast. You almost forgot he was trying to prove a point.

Your hips start chasing his hand, greedily wanting more. As you're moving back and forth, you can feel him already hard and ready for you again. This makes you moan louder and sink your nails into anything you can reach, one of those things being his arm.

“Want me to stop?” He purrs into your ear, slowing down slightly, pulling a growl out of you.

“Don't you dare.” You stab your nails deeper into his skin, smelling blood.

He just chuckles and picks back up the pace. Looking up to watch your guests squirming in their seats and, you assume, to fuck with their minds further. He widens his legs more, taking yours with his, baring you even more to them.

“I'm going to make her cum now,” you let out something between a whimper and a plea, “And when she does, I need you to hear exactly whose name she'll moan.”

True to his word, he speeds up again, touching you exactly how you need him to. You're really getting close, your moans start getting louder, a mix of his name and please escaping your parted lips, until the knot getting impossibly tighter breaks, washing you away in waves of ecstasy, pulling you under until you can't breathe.

It doesn't take you as long to come to, you weren't completely satisfied after all, he was intentionally neglecting your fluttering entrance. When you do, you notice he has moved his hand to cup your cunt. You almost think it's a way to cover you after the show is over but, as you notice the glint in his eyes as he's staring them on, you know it's a way to mark his claim even more.

“Rhysand.” You've played his game and you know the poor idiots more than got the message. You want him now.

“Tell me, darling.” He looks back to you, moving to kiss your neck, biting at the already fading marks he left earlier.

“Want you to fuck me.” He hums, still sucking around your neck, not giving you any indication that he'll follow through with your request.

“We have company.” What an infuriating time to start caring about the males sitting across from you.

“I don't care.” It seems like that was the answer he was looking for since he immediately turns you around and kisses you deeply. You can feel all the self control he was holding onto break as his kiss gets sloppier, more desperate. He stands up, lifting you up with him and walks to his desk, setting you down on the dark wood, devouring your mouth all the while. The room feels different around you and you don't have to look to know he let his power run untamed.

Urgency starts spreading inside you with each stroke of his tongue, moving to all but rip his clothes off him, needing to feel his body against your own, as close as physically possible. He breaks away from your mouth in favor of trailing kisses all over your chest, biting down on your nipples until you grab his hair and bring him back up to crash your lips against his once again.

You let your hand wander down his torso, running your nails just hard enough to leave red marks in their wake. Wasting no time, you grab onto his cock, giving him a few strokes so you can hear him moan into your mouth.

He pushes you down gently onto the desk, laying you down with no care for the important documents still scattered around it. He breathes out a curse as he holds onto your hips and watches your body sprawled before him, he knows he'll never tire of the sight. You take notice of the darkness that set itself in the room, you probably wouldn't even be able to see your guests through it. Not that you'd look away from him for anything right now.

Ever the tease, Rhys starts swirling the leaking head of his cock around your clit, playing with you before giving you what you want. He does this enough times that you were just about to snarl at him, but then he finally circles your entrance, pushing the head in slowly and bottoming out soon after, not being able to resist your sweet warmth.

The pace he sets is messy but you still try to meet him in his thrusts, you're both desperate, having only one thing in your minds. The hold he has on your hips is sure to bruise but he doesn't let up, and you keep begging him not to stop. You try to hold onto the desk, pushing some things to the floor, trying to keep a hold on your sanity as well. Your legs wrap around him, your body urging him to keep going. Not that he would ever dream of stopping.

You feel your orgasm reaching for you fast, screaming out his name in warning. He moves one hand to play with your clit once again, and it doesn't even take two thrusts before you're exploding around him. Your mind goes blank behind your eyes and you barely feel him cumming right after you, filling you up.

This time it takes you both longer to come back down to the world of the living. Mind blowing pleasure still teasing at every one of your nerve endings, your legs still shaking softly. You run your hand over your face before opening your eyes to catch him already staring down at you. He looks absolutely ruined. His hair is messy from both his hands and yours running through the dark locks, there were red marks all over his torso, down his hips and his arms, your marks. You don't have to see yourself to know you match his satiated expression.

Rhys helps you sit back up on the desk, wincing at the papers stuck to you and picking them off with a smile. Your muscles feel like soup but you still find the strength to hug him to you, leaving little kisses everywhere you can reach. You can't help but bite down on his collarbone when he pulls his spent cock out of you gently, burning with oversensitivity. He drops a kiss on your shoulder as an apology, wrapping one arm around you as well.

You're extremely uncomfortable sitting on the desk, you're probably ruining said desk with the cum dripping out of you too, but you refuse to move away from him. As you lean your head on his chest, almost purring at the way he's caressing your back, you look over to the tied up males, noticing they were unconscious.

“They've already seen enough,” he explains when he catches you looking. You simply hum in response, at this point you don't care if they also see you fuck him or hug him. It won't matter either way.

“You'll make them forget about it?” Your voice is scratchy from all the abuse your throat just endured, you could still feel him when you swallowed.

“Of course,” he nuzzles your hair, “Wouldn't want them to remember how beautiful you are with my cock in your mouth or screaming my name in pure pleasure.” The reminder has your thighs clenching. Gods, this male makes you insatiable.

“Was that all for nothing then?” You move back enough to look into his eyes, not resisting giving him a soft kiss.

“Not for nothing,” he pecks your lips again before giving you an impish grin. “Do you realize how hard you just came?” Your body somehow still has the energy to blush a little at his words.

“That's not what I meant.” You roll your eyes slowly, pouting a little. If he makes them forget about this whole situation, they won't learn their lesson. You hope they're not dumb enough to try hitting on you twice but if they did there was nothing you could do to save them from spending the rest of their days in Azriel's dungeons, you probably wouldn't even want to try to help them.

“I'll leave some of our previous talk intact. They can't forget who you belong to.” He looks over to the males with a serious look on his face, seems he's still on the fence about letting them go so easily. Being High Lord must be hard sometimes, having to be the voice of reason. “I'll let them remember how easily I could toy with their minds and have them think the rest was a nightmare.”

“And you're not worried about what your people would think if they knew how mean you can be?” You wrap your arms around his neck again, pulling him closer, always needing him closer.

“As long as you still love me, darling,” he kisses your forehead before leaning back to smile down at you, “I don't care what anyone else thinks of me.”

[galedekarios]

gale as a professor at blackstaff academy

i have to say that at first i wasn't too sold on the (then still fanon) idea of a professor ending because of gale's own prior anecdote about being irked by his previous students and their inadequacies.

i thought it might not be a good fit for him as far as professions go.

but reading the epilogue files, i have come around on it.

i think it's just one more way in which he's really grown into himself, become content with who he was in the past, the mistakes he made and what he has learned from them, and the person he wants to be in the future:

Player: You? A teacher? I'd hardly say you set the best example for impressionable young wizards... Gale: I think it makes perfect sense. devnote: Surprised you wouldn't recognise this, a tiny bit offended you don't trust him to do this Gale: Who better to warn of the perils of misusing magic than someone who was once only a wayward sneeze away from destroying a mid-sized settlement? devnote: playing up to his past a bit, you can imagine this is how he acts with his students Tara the Tressym: Don't remind me of those terrible times, Mr Dekarios. My blood pressure has only just recovered.

a few more cute banters & things we learn about gale and his new teaching position:

tara swipes at students who fall asleep in gale's classes, which he himself doesn't mind. he, too, slept through some of them (like his calishite lessons):

Player: Perhaps that's a good thing. I'm sure they're far better students than I was... Gale: Ah, so you still remember our little lesson? devnote: A little bit bashful, it was a vulnerable moment for him Gale: 'Teaching' you was hardly an effort at all. Not like my present cohort of apprentices. devnote: Complimentary, pulling the thought back to the teaching element after getting lost in the memory of the moment Gale: They try their best, of course - when they can manage to stay awake. devnote: Not upset by this - he slept through his fair share of classes as a student Tara the Tressym: The cheek of them! Nothing a well-placed swipe from Tara can't fix, though.

2. gale offered to teach more subjects than illusion via simulacra:

Player: Only a professor? With your expertise, I'd have thought you could teach every kind of magic going... Gale: I did offer, as a matter of fact. devnote: Secretly glad the player thinks so highly of him Gale: However, the Blackstaff insisted I couldn't teach every subject, nor could the simulacra of myself I offered to create for that purpose. devnote: Reluctantly accepts that this was the right decision Gale: So, I've settled for teaching the art of illusion. Magic to confound the senses, to render the impossible into reality, and to allow expression of that most magical attribute of all - imagination. devnote: Selling it a bit - he wants to make sure you appreciate how cool this is

3. gale has told his students about the player's adventures and will invite a player to be a guest lecturer:

Player: I found the love of my life. I'd say I'm pretty happy. Gale: And I couldn't be happier for you. A fitting reward for the sacrifices you made in getting here. Gale: I've told my students plenty of tales about our escapades. You're something of a hero to them, you know. Gale: I'd be delighted to introduce you to my current cohort - as a guest lecturer, perhaps? I'm sure they'd have plenty of questions for you. Player: It would be my pleasure. Gale: Excellent. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the allure of sharing your expertise. Gale: Of course you'll be most welcome to stay with me in my tower- Tara the Tressym: Ahem. Gale: My apologies, Tara. That would be our tower.

4. his students find him somewhat intimidating due to his backstory with mystra and the orb:

Gale: Well, that was quite lovely. I'm glad you're as pleased to see me as I am you. Gale: I have to say, I'm quite grateful to just be 'Gale' for the evening. Gale: I fear my students find me somewhat intimidating, due to my erm, explosive former reputation. I seem to put the fear of the gods into them. devnote: He plays up to his reputations a bit, so he isn't overly surprised Gale: Or the fear of Mystra, to be more specific. Gale: I surrendered the Crown of Karsus to her, as I told you I would. And in return, she cured me of the orb at last. Gale: Even now, I struggle to put the feeling into words. It was like exhaling for the first time, after holding my breath for so very long. Gale: Of course, I haven't clarified with my students that the orb is no longer a threat. The legend of my explosive capabilities is an excellent means of controlling a classroom. Too good, if anything.

5. he wants to teach his students that there is fun in studying magic:

Gale: I spend most of my time trying to convince them how much fun the study of magic can be, but it'd be easier to crack a smile on an intellect devourer than some of my pupils... devnote: Despairing a little, doesn't understand why they aren't all as passionate as he was Player: Or on a mind flayer, perhaps... Gale: Smiling may no longer come easy to you, but I've seen how your tentacles twitch at my jokes. Even the ones I'm not entirely certain I was trying to make... devnote: Last sentence a tiny bit self-conscious, aware that people sometimes find him ridiculous. Gale: Still, I hoped my students might be a little more open to the playful side of such magic.

anyhow, i hope this was insightful to someone! 🖤

[chichiscloset]

WHAT IS THIS SEASON OF LIFE TRYING TO TEACH YOU?

When you’re in pursuit of the life of your dreams along the journey there will be many seasons. Some seasons will be triumphant and you’ll feel like anything is possible, while others will be so difficult you’ll be unsure how you’re even going to make it through this season of life.

I want you ladies to remember, and as a reminder to myself as well, that the only constant in life is change. When change comes are you able to withstand the turbulence of life while remaining faithful and focused? And when things are great can you show gratitude for all that you prayed for and received?

“To whom much is given, much will be required”

I love that quote! It’s a reminder that if you want a lot you have to go through a lot. The best things in life are found through effort and experience. I know the “soft life” has convinced us all that being a “bad bitch” is enough to achieve the life of your dreams. However, in reality, that’s not all it takes! The life of your dreams doesn’t just appear! It is a treasure, and like a treasure, a hunt is required because you only find what you seek!

God/the universe, whatever you believe in, is always guiding you to become your best self. Let life mold into what you need to become, so that you can receive the desires of your heart. There is a lesson to learn in every season, and it’s your job to have enough wisdom to let life be your teacher.

At the end of the day, as much as we all want to, there is no avoiding the process or the discomfort that different season bring. If you are not already born into money you’re going to have to figure out how to get everything you dream of. Which means, you’ll have to go through some thangs!

How to embrace each session if your life?

I. PRAY

Pray, pray, pray.

Seriously! Without getting too religious, prayer works! Plenty of the darkest seasons of my life required a crap ton of prayer to get through the days. You have to remember nothing is happening to you, and everything is happening for you. You are where you are because that’s where you’re supposed to be. Trust that God has a plan, and it’s more beautiful than anything you could imagine.

Pray for guidance, pray for clarity, and pray for wisdom. Prayer has a way of providing calm in the midst of a storm.

II. SLOW DOWN

Take a moment to reflect on everything that lead you to where you are today.

Realize that some days will be productive, while others will feel like you aren’t doing hardly enough. We are all human, and growth is never linear. If you’re always moving and doing it’s hard to hear your intuition. It’s ok to slow down and listen to what the universe is trying to tell you.

III.FIND A NEW PART OF YOU TO EXPLORE

As humans we’re always evolving. We change the way we dress, the activities we enjoy, who/how we like to spend our time, and everything in between.

As you enter a new season of being take the time to reflect on what’s changing about yourself. Is it a change you like? Are you regressing? Take the time to explore and get to know this new version of yourself. Be curious without being judgemental.

IV. PRACTICE GRATITUDE

Practicing gratitude is the quickest way to call more good into your life. By being thankful for the good things in your life, no matter how big or small they may be it allows you to focus on the positive aspects of your life and acknowledge the good things that have come your way.

Some ways to practice gratitude include keeping a gratitude journal and expressing gratitude to others, taking time to appreciate nature, and focusing on the present moment. By practicing gratitude regularly, you can improve your overall well-being and increase your happiness, and better weather any season in your life.

Ultimately, accepting the changes and transitions that come with different stages of life, whether they be joyful or challenging. It means acknowledging that life is a journey with ups and downs, and learning to appreciate each moment for what it is. By embracing the seasons of life, we can grow, learn, and become more resilient individuals.

Until we talk again ❤️

Chichi

[shimmeringweeds]

To all of us in agony overthinking what CXS's reaction to what LG has done will be (myself included). I remind you of episode 5

Look, Lu Guang knows he messed up. He took a risk not telling Cheng Xiaoshi about the earthquake (all to protect him, keep in mind) and it backfired spectacularly.

Oof. Yeah good question. Getting right to it.

Uh huh. Uh-huh yeah-- wait. Oh. No, he's dead serious about that. During the earthquake Lu Guang reminds Cheng Xiaoshi specifically of their present time. He warns that changing the node of death in the photo would affect THEM. He's protecting their present. Anyway moving on.

Cheng Xiaoshi did very much punch that handsome face in light of "betrayal." Like, this isn't a hypothetical. The initial fallout between them will be immense. And I really don't think just one punch is going to be enough for Lu Guang's actions... but were not here for the initial fallout. We're not here for a present, heated, moment. We're here for the future.

So now every time Lu Guang says "fool," what I hear is "I love you". (Thanks for that episode s2e12.)

But also. Is Lu Guang talking about himself here too?

"Don't question the future, because the future will definitely change because of us."

I don't know. I've kind of started seeing Lu Guang as going through phases. Phases where he is 100% stuck in the past. Keeping it the same, untouched. Phases where he is living in the present, relishing every moment he has. Phases where he is looking to a future. No, not just looking, but desperately fighting for that future where they all live.

These words are for himself.

Cheng Xiaoshi comes off as impulsive because he's got a big heart, but he is a thinker. He has had so much time, alone, to think. He thinks about his parents being caught in the earthquake, alone in an empty house. He takes days to think about Lu Guang words here, before forgiving him and offering that naive trust again. In Xu Shanshan's case, he shut himself in the darkroom all afternoon to think and plan, alone.

I don't see a future where Cheng Xiaoshi lets Lu Guang go. I see a future where Cheng Xiaoshi THINKS and thinks until he understands, and understands enough to finds a future for them both.

But first, they really need to have an honest-to-god talk. (And maybe a good punch.)

[moonstruckme]

hi love!!! I love ur work sm!! could you perhaps write a Sirius black x fem!reader, but the reader is very masculine? and sirius is more feminine? and maybe rude comments are made towards the reader for this or smthn? sorry if this is a specific request, but this happened to me recently with my boyfriend so i hope it’ll make me feel better. Ty!! ❤️❤️

Hi gorgeous! I'm so sorry this happened to you, people can be such assholes. I know "don't let it get to you" is much easier said than done, but I hope you're able to keep doing you without thinking about them too much. Thanks for requesting <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 602 words

“Baby,” Sirius sighs, wiping under your eyes while you sniffle and try to act like your tears aren’t falling. “You can’t let them get to you like this, gorgeous.” 

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Your voice comes out bitter; Sirius tells himself it’s not aimed at him. 

Sirius gnaws at his lip, taking a moment to look at you while you look at your lap, a stubborn dam of tears shining in your eyes. He wants desperately to make a joke, to make light of what’s happened in the way that always helps him get through these things, but he suspects that’s not what you need right now. You’d come home red-faced and ranting, but it hadn’t taken more than one word from Sirius for your angry facade to crumple. The protective ire that had propelled you home was faded, leaving behind a frustrated sort of hurt. 

“I hope you don’t mean me,” Sirius says, shuffling closer to you on the couch so that his thigh is half atop yours. “I can take care of myself, sweetness. Trust me, you don’t need to be angry on my behalf.” 

“I’m just—they called you—” Your face screws up in indignant fury, even as a new wave of tears breaks hot and fast down your cheeks. “I just don’t get why anybody thinks they know more than us about our relationship.” 

Sirius blows out a breath. Any other time, he’d be the one fuming, but when it’s you that gets like this, it’s like calm rushes over him to balance you out. He doesn’t know how you do it most of the time; he much prefers being the one to rage. “But we know they have no idea what they’re talking about,” he reminds you. “It’s none of their fucking business, okay?” 

You squeeze your eyes closed, probably trying to keep more tears at bay. When you open them, the fight seems to have gone out of you. Somehow, this is worse. Sirius’ chest aches for you. 

“I know,” you say, softer now. Your hand comes up to hold his face, fingers weaving into his hair hardly an inch below the barrette keeping it out of his face, and Sirius can guess what those pricks said to you. About him. He’s not unused to comments on how he presents himself, but he can understand why you’ve gotten so upset; if someone said that sort of thing about you, he’d open his mouth to yell and flames would come bursting out. 

“Hey,” he says. “You like the way you look, right? And you like the way I look?”

He bats his eyelashes at you when you glance up, and you smile just like he hoped you would. It’s a small, tired thing, but he’ll take it. 

“Yeah,” you answer him. 

“Good.” Sirius mirrors you, placing his hand on the side of your face. “Then if those fuckers want to say that you wear the pants, let ‘em.” He leans down, kissing the soft, ticklish spot underneath your jaw. “Pants are uncomfortable as hell. You can have them, honey.” 

You’re laughing by the time he’s finished talking, and Sirius nips at you as you squirm away from him. 

“But if you want to try and be more traditional, I could get on top for a change,” he says, holding you in place while you cackle and writhe. “What do you think, gorgeous? Want to satisfy those conservative pricks?”

“No,” you say, panting as you shove him off you. “No. I don’t want them affecting anything we do.” 

Sirius grins. “That’s my girl. Let’s show ‘em, love.”

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

hiii, this is my first time requesting so sorry if its not clear. but could you do one where its if the uppermoons would let reader braid their hair and how it would go?? ex: kokushibo , douma , muzan fem form, the hantengu clones, etc

New style

Ahhh I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting!!♡ this is such a cute idea

Warnings: fluff, kissing, physically touch with Aizetsu, the braiding style is just braids like this lol

Kokushibo

Kokushibo doesn't let just anyone touch his hair. It has to be someone he's most comfortable with, someone who he can let his guard around fully without feeling any threat. In this case, the only one allowed to touch his hair other than himself is his own lover.

Kokushibo leaves it up to you when it's time for his hair to be done. He's never made any suggestions on what you should do and trusted your judgment on what's good for his appearance. "Can I braid your hair?" You asked. Kokushibo looked over his shoulder. "I've... never had braids done on me. I will allow it if that's what you wish to do."

Kokushibo rarely shows any excitement or gratitude when you do his hair. Just sits down and let's you do what you need to do for your own satisfaction, but this time he's interested in how he'll look. You watched him through the mirror sitting with his eyes closed and his hands on his lap. He isn't smiling, but you can tell he's enjoying this.

Kokushibo kept looking at himself in the mirror, feeling the long braids that went down to his chest. "I like this.... I like it a lot. Who thought you this?" He asked. "Well, I've been braiding my own hair for a while so-" "You will teach me so I can braid your hair as well"

Douma

Douma was so cheerfully of the idea. He almost dropped all responsibility just for your hands to play in his hair. "Hey y/n, do you think you can add one of your pretty hair clips in my hair after you're done?" He practically begs with a smile, but how could you refuse? Especially when he's asking so sweetly.

Douma kept having to be reminded to sit still while you braid his hair. He kept swaying side to side, humming happily "douma please. Sit still okay? I'm almost done, " you said with some frustration but giggled. "I'm sorry y/n I'm just so happy I can't help myself. I can't remember the last time someone's offered to do my hair"

Douma watches as you gently put the finished braid over his shoulder, onto his chest, and start to do the next side. He twirls the end of his hair with his finger and then wips his head back onto your lap to look up at you. "It looks so gorgeous! Please keep going, " he said."I can put you, have to lift your head back up silly"

Douma couldn't keep his hands off his braied hair. "Thank you so much y/n I look great!" He said and kisses your cheek. "I'm happy you like it, darling. Now, let's add the hair pins. " You added the pins in his hair and then kissed his forehead

Muzan

Muzan is the one who asked you to braid her hair for a very important meeting. She wanted to look her best in her female form and admired how you took care of yourself to look presentable and ordered you to do the same for her.

Muzan sits in the chair while applying her red lipstick on yet keeping her eye on you through the mirror. "You look frightened to touch my hair. Make sure my braids aren't so loose. It would he bothersome if they unraveled," she said with a small snral. "Yes. Lord muzan"

Muzan watches you finish the single braids, going down to her back, and you finish adding the hair pins in. You step back once you are done. She got up from the chair and took a good look at her appearance from head to toe, making sure everything was perfect before she left.

Muzan walks towards you. You bowed your head , but she felt her hand pet your head. "Good work. You've met my expectations on how I wanted my hair to look, " she said, grabbing your chin to make you look at her. "You deserve a reward." she smirks and kisses you

Nakime

Nakima allows you to do her hair however you want, but the one rule she gave you is to leave the hair in front of her face alone. She's not insecure about her eye, but she prefers to keep it hidden as a way to scare off other humans and make her powers a surprise for her enemies.

Nakime wasn't too sure about you braiding her hair, but with some reassurance, she allows you to continue. "So you're just braiding all my hair back into a single braid?" She asked. "Yup. Just the hair in the back, don't worry, I'm leaving the front of your hair alone" you giggled.

Nakime blushes when she sees the happiness on your face when you braid her hair "actually. I don't mind if you use pins to pin my bangs to the side, " she said. You gasped and couldn't help the big smile on your face when she gave you permission to touch her bangs.

Nakime looks at herself in the mirror. "You make me not want to cover my eye as often now. I think I look beautiful like this," she said and reached over her shoulder to grab her braid to play with it. You hug her from behind and rest your chin on her shoulder. "You're always beautiful nakime"

Aizetsu

Aizetsu's head is a little tender than the rest of the demons. He doesn't usually let anyone touch his hair, let alone himself, but he trusts you to touch his hair since he's told you that you have gentle hands and that you're patient with him.

Aizetsu had light in his eyes at your idea of braiding his hair. His hair was always out and flowing. He only lets you brush out his hair, so the thought of having a different hair style interested him.

Aizetsu sits down between your legs for you to begin. He only makes a few grunts at the tugs on his hair but remains. He started to grow a little bord just sitting there and decided to randomly glide his nails across your ankles. "That tickles stop, I can't focuse" you joke "I'm sorry. I just got bored, so I figured I'd just play with your ankle, " he said, making you laugh.

Aizetsu turns his head to see his hair in a single braid going down to his back. It wasn't too tight, but it wasn't too loose either. "I like it. It's perfect, " he said, taking your hand to kiss it.

Sekido

Sekido refused your offers to do his hair many times. When you suggested doing braids on him, he didn't refuse. He's seen humans with braided hair in many styles but never thought to try them on himself.

Sekido sat down on the chair with his arms crossed. He complains with almost anything you did, but you just kept going. "Tsk. Why are you brushing my bangs back?" He grunts "because I'm putting all your hair into a braid. Hush, you'll love the end results," you said only for Sekido to mumble under his breath.

Sekido eventually went silent. He watches himself in the mirror, examing his new appearance. "Since I am a clone, I never thought about my appearance. I don't think none of us do. " You stopped braiding for a moment and smiled at his confression "well I think you look beautiful"

Sekido looks at his braid and then sighs. "This is stupid and a waste of time," he said but blushed. His words may not seem thankful, but his actions were. He didn't take the braid out for a week after that and would scold his brothers for trying to ruin your hard work.

Karaku

Karaku made the suggestion for you to braid his hair. "I'd be more than welcome too, but what brought the idea to mind?" You asked. He touches your two braids going down to your chest. "I like how you braided your hair. I think I'd look good with two braids, don't you think?"

Karaku wanted the same hairstyle as you. You had two braids going down yet, which lossen them to look more fluffy, so you started to do the same on Karaku. "You're really good at this. You should do my hair all the time, " he said with a big grin. "I already do that"

Karaku kept playing with some of your hair pins and sighed "y/n are you almost done? I wanna seee" he whines, getting impatient, but you only ignore his behavior, but he only complains even more just to spite you.

Karaku didn't even have to look in the mirror to know he looked good. He purposely walked past his brothers and made sure to whip his hair, almost in their face, to notice the beautiful hairstyle you did on him.

Urogi

Urogi can't do his own hair because of his talons and relys on you to wash and brush out his hair. "Why don't we try a new hairstyle. Can I braid your hair and put it in two buns at the end?" You asked a bit nervously, thinking he might reject the idea, but to your surprise, he didn't.

Urogi kept turning his head every second to see how you braided his hair back and groaned every time you pulled his hair to make his head straight. "Stop moving." You continue. "But I wanted to see, stand on the other side!"

Urogi made you switch positions multiple times. You couldn't stand still. You had to move yourself to see what you're doing since Urogi wouldn't keep his head still

Urogi carefully uses his claws to touch at his hair, then then feels the braided buns at the end. "Do you like it?" You smile. Urogi picks you up and spins you around. "I really really like it!

[bwaybwaycwaycway]

Quick rant about Authority in Disco Elysium

I'm writing this because I had someone rightly call me out at work for second-guessing myself for not trusting in an answer I gave. Specifically, I was asked to identify a type of fire extinguisher from a distance, and even though I was correct, I wanted to check my answer by going up and reading the label. It reminded me about internal confidence in yourself and the things you say.

Authority is an underrated skill in Disco Elysium.

I get why people dislike it. Whenever Authority gets a failure, it has extremely violent, sociopathic responses to the situation at hand, like telling you to hurt people or, in a very famous scene, put a loaded pistol in your mouth. This kind of behavior upsets Kim, who serves as the moral compass for most players, so you stop taking risky Authority checks and don't bother wearing clothing that boosts the skill. You eventually think of Authority as a skill used by people who want to go the Fascist Cop route.

And then you get to the Tribunal. At the end, only one skill will save Kim. Authority. It isn't even you giving him a real order, it's mostly asserting that there is danger and that Kim must respond to it, and ignore your broken half-dead body. It seems like a weird choice that Esprit de Corps isn't doing this, as it's the cop-related skill, or Suggestion, as it is the skill best used to convince others.

No, only Authority will snap Kim out of his panic and make sure he survives the fight without serious injury. And that's because Authority is a skill that, when it succeeds a check, is about personal confidence in your ability as a police officer, and a human being living their life in Revachol.

Authority sure does get you into bad situations, and if you choose to go down the path of the Honour Cop, suggests thumb-fucking yourself to display said honour. But when it succeeds, Authority is barely there, just reminding you that you've got this. You know what to do, you've known all along. You're confident in your actions and accept responsibility for them when Authority is taking lead.

People don't trust cops with low Authority. Sorry Cops, as Kim says, are actively harmful to the reputation of the RCM. Apologizing and second-guessing yourself makes people lose faith in the government you represent and in your ability to solve the case or help them live their lives. A lot of negative modifiers are due to you appearing weak or lacking confidence when you first meet people, as they don't think of you as a trustworthy cop who can fix things.

Finally, the confrontation with Kim over asking him to share a secret about his past, involving the Eyebrow Off, shows that Authority is something that isn't abusive when used right. Kim uses his Authority to convince you to drop the question when you fail, but if you succeed, he share a little fact about his childhood that's of no consequence except it's slightly embarrassing to him. You learn on a failure though that Kim's Authority is immense, and it shows through his confidence in himself and his job as a cop.

Authority is about showing other people, sometimes even falsely presenting, confidence in yourself and what you're doing. When it fails, it pushes you to assert this confidence again, especially in the face of someone trying to assert their Authority over you. It wants you to be a good cop, but has such a narrow way of thinking that it can get you or other people killed multiple times.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Reader takes post Hisui Ingo (and possible Emmet) to Sinnoh where he takes them to Lady Sneaslers cave, Ingo would probably find her fossil and be sad until Reader reminds him that they can now bring back well preserved fossils. Que Ingo and Ladys reunion (headcanon that fossils retain their memories cos its cute)

It took quite some time for Ingo to readjust to the present, considering at least five whole years have passed since he got thrown back in time...lost in the ancient region of Hisui.

You've been stuck there too, but eventually you made a deal with Arceus after "seeking out all Pokémon" as requested and capturing it:

If you released your cherished team back into the wild, it'll let you both go home. Of course, that wasn't an easy sacrifice to make, though after bidding farewell to the Pokémon that helped you save Hisui--and the world as a whole--Arceus did fulfill its end of the bargain.

It dropped you and Ingo off into a familiar underground subway, where Emmet so-happened to be patrolling alone at that same time.

He nearly passed out upon seeing that you both finally back home, especially his older twin.

Fortunately, he remembered everything about him the second they met eyes....leading to the brothers hugging and sobbing for a solid ten minutes together. You simply stood on the sidelines as Chandelure and Eelektross gave their trainers space and celebrated your return.

After the media caught wind of the good news, life pretty much resumed as normal--except the brothers put a temporary halt on their battle subway operations as you suggested a vacation to Sinnoh. Obviously Ingo's mind was still foggy, so he wasn't quite fit to resume any dual battles yet.

He did, however, wish to show Emmet what he learned of this region based on his experiences in Hisui--especially Mt. Coronet. He took you both to the cavern that used to be his warden post.

"I gotta admit, you're turning into quite the historian." Emmet remarked, looking all around as the three of you ventured further into the cave. Only your flashlight shined the path forward. "You were just..guarding this so-called "Noble Pokémon" from danger?"

"Indeed. That's exactly it!" Ingo explained with much vigor. "As warden, it was my duty to ensure Lady Sneasler's territory was protected and that offerings were delivered to her from time to time. Of course, I didn't think Pearl Clan would ever trust a stranger like myself. But it ended up being a wise decision on their part."

Emmet simply muttered an "ahh" in surprise, nodding his head as you and him continued listening to the older twin's story. He went on to discuss the baby Sneasels that were under Sneasler's care, saying they were cared for in this very cave and that you were nearing her den.

However, you three would soon happen upon a rather...unfortunate sight. But neither of you knew it yet until Ingo abruptly stopped in his tracks, having found something he wishes he could unsee.

"...oh, so...that's all there is now...." His voice turned flat.

"Ingo? What's wrong?" Emmet asked in worry.

"I think I know.." You frowned slightly, standing beside Ingo and flicking on your flashlight, revealing bones embedded into the dirt of the den.

But they weren't just any regular old bones scattered everywhere...

They made up the fossil of a certain Sneasler.

"..of course, h-how could I forgotten? She's gone.." Ingo bowed his head in mourning, feeling the ache in his heart growing as the reality of this discovery hit him hard. But even with the bill of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes, you and Emmet could see his lips tremble, tears sliding down both cheeks.

"M-My Lady..."

Hearing his voice break was something neither of you expected, but of course....you understood why.

This had to be a difficult thing to confront, knowing that the Noble he formed such a close bond with, the one who helped him in that lost and unfamiliar distant past...was now extinct.

There will never be another Sneasler like her again.

The only proof of her existence was kept within a fossil-

'Wait...her fossil...'

You suddenly remembered something extremely crucial, and smiled, knowing exactly how to help Ingo in his moment of despair. So you gently put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention. "Hey, Ing-"

"I never even thought about what became of her until now.." He put his hand over yours, voice still trembling, as he believed you were only trying to comfort him. "We left so suddenly and...god, she must have been so confused. Did she think we abandoned her? Did she live out the rest of her days in anger or sorrow? Oh how I...I-I just wish I could see her one last time..."

"We can make that happen, Ingo."

"..huh?" Blinking, he stared at you with puffy eyes, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? We can't go back-"

"We've got the technology to revive fossils, remember?" You reminded him, seeing his expression shift for a moment. And then recollection seemed to flash in his eyes.

"Ahah..that's right. I-I must have forgotten..." He chuckled softly, wiping away his tears as he finally calmed down. "Is it possible to fully restore her?"

"I believe so! Her fossil looks verrrry well-preserved!" Emmet nodded, happy to see his brother's smile again. "We must dig this up post haste! It'd be an honor to meet this "Lady Sneasler"."

"Then it's decided, gentlemen." You grinned, clapping your hands together. "Let's get to digging!"

.........

The excavation of Lady Sneasler's fossil went off without a hitch, and you wasted no time heading to Oreburgh's Mining Museum afterwards.

The scientist in charge of reviving fossils was initially taken aback by the odd skeleton piece you gave him, though he accepted it nonetheless and insisted you three waited outside until the process was complete.

Yet his words left Ingo nervous as he paced back and forth in front of the museum sign. He kept muttering train-related facts under his breath, trying to keep calm. But he couldn't help wondering if something could go wrong.

What if it's impossible? What if she's brought back wrong or without any memory of who he was?

Would she be terrified of the sudden changes that modern society brought and go berserk??

Did..any Fossil Pokémon feel that way when they were first revived?

Fortunately, as quickly as these concerns descended upon him...they were just as quick to leave when he heard a familiar cry and footsteps growing louder. And he turned in astonishment to see who came running out of the museum, a frantic scientist in-tow.

Both you and Emmet looked on, the latter surprised to see it was a tall Sneasel-like Pokémon with purple fur jogging over to you all. But you had a huge smile on your face, knowing very well that's the Noble you hoped to see again. She looked the same as she did all those years ago.

"I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!! I-It ran out the second I brought it back to life!!" He kept shouting.

"Halt! There's no need to proceed further!" Emmet barked, putting his hand up to stop him in his tracks. "Thank you for your services. We'll take care of her from here."

"...a-ah yes, of course! Sorry." Coughing nervously, the scientist smoothed out his ruffled lab coat, before heading back inside the museum.

"Sneas?" While initially confused at Emmet's presence, Lady Sneasler perked up at Ingo's voice as he approached her.

"My Lady..."

For a moment, she looked down at the man, at first not recognizing him outside of his tattered Pearl Clan garb. But after sniffing him a few times, the usually stoic Pokémon smiled warmly and ruffled his head gently. "Snea!"

"O-Oh, thank Arceus...you remember..!!" He beamed, although her mood suddenly switched as she huffed, before stepping back and crossing her arms, foot tapping with impatience.

The look in her eye told Ingo "you owe me an explanation big time".

But before he could speak up, you intervened, knowing it was really your fault that they never got to properly say goodbye to each other. So you explained everything to her, and she seemed to understand, given how her facial features gradually softened.

After nodding her head in respect, she turned back to her warden, embracing him in an act of forgiveness. At first he was in shock, though he returned the hug seconds later, tears of happiness streaking down his cheeks this time.

He'll worry about how Lady Sneasler will adapt to this new world later on...but for now he just wanted to take in this moment.

You and Emmet just looked on, relieved to see the pair reunited after being thrown timelines apart.

"Awh, that is verrrrry touching." He clasped his hands together with a grin. "I wonder how she'd fair in batt--ough!!"

Elbowing him in the gut, you huffed in annoyance. "Not the time, Em."

"..r-right, sorry!"

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: More of Y/N's past is revealed. Dean is there to comfort her as he inquires about the parts she never shared. Warnings: Angst, talk of past abuse, child abuse, comfort, coping, understanding trauma, trauma, denial, no GIF sorry!

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara

Word Count: 1,974

Words mean more at night

(Masterlist, Prev Ch, Next Ch)

A back-and-forth motion rubs against my knee but my eyes are down at the carpeted floors. Someone got me to my motel room.

I blink, my eyes tracing the movement to a familiar veiny hand. He’s kneeled in front of me, patiently waiting for me. His motion on my knee doesn’t stop as he smiles at me sadly, “Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” I answer weakly, watching his face for any changes. Carefully he raises his free hand to my hand, giving me time to back away. He covers my clutched hand, I hadn’t realized I was forming tight fists. He gently pries my fingers open revealing little alcohol packets. That’s the light thing I was handed to clean off the specks of blood…blood from—

“Hey, you’re okay,” Dean says softly, pulling me back to the present. He takes the packets from my hands, opening one carefully but before he moves to do anything he asks, “Can I?”

I nod, not trusting my voice. I know I wasn’t supposed to allow him our small touches but that can all be screwed right now. I want a hug and I want to hide under the covers until it all passes, as childish as it sounds. “Words,” he reminds. He had his nailbed-biting habits I had the habit of shutting down and he knew that well enough to try and push me out of it, even if it meant just answering verbally. “Yes, please,” I say just barely above a whisper.

The motion on my knee stops and with that same hand, he reaches up slowly to cradle my head, pushing some of my hair back. He gets closer to my face and with the alcohol pad he lightly rubs off a spec on my cheek, his eyes focused there. I knew what he was thinking, I could see the thoughts and questions swirling in his eyes. “You can ask,” I say, it’s better to get it over now. He doesn’t say anything for a beat as he cleans a couple of spots on my face, “Not my place too,” he answers.

He lets go of me, pushing off the balls of his feet, and standing up, he collects the scraps and walks to the other side of my small motel room to discard them.

I want to sink into myself, “You’re upset with me,” I tell him, knowing I'm right by his body language and just overall behavior. Again he doesn’t answer but I can see the tension in his shoulders and I know he’s holding back. I kick off my shoes, scooting back on the bed until my back hits the headboard. I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around me as he fidgets with something on the counter. 

He turns around swiftly but doesn’t move towards me, “Why didn–” he cuts himself off, running a hand down his face. “I’m sorry,” I say softly.

He shakes his head, “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for sweetheart I–”

“You can say it. Let’s just talk about this now, I don’t like it when you’re upset at me,” I admit though I’m sure he already knew. He sighs, looking away, “I’m not upset at you.”

“You aren’t?” I ask, surprised.

“No. I’m mad I didn’t know,” he steps closer until he reaches the bed, “I should’ve known.”

I pat the spot next to me, allowing him to get closer so we could sit comfortably like old times, “We were young,” I reasoned. He takes the spot next to me, the bed dipping as he does, “I have two years on you,” he counters. I roll my eyes, he always tries to play that card. “Well, I was very good at hiding it, had to be. Plus…you heard what I said about B/N.”

He groans, frustrated, his head leaning back on the headboard, “That doesn’t make me feel better. Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped.”

“You had your own things to worry about. We didn’t see each other very often then either, we hung out more after he died and by then it was no longer an issue,” I explain. But he doesn’t respond. “I’m quite resilient you know. Not much can really kill me,” I add, trying to lighten the mood. His head snaps to me, “That doesn’t make it better. You were still…”

“It’s okay,” I say, focusing my eyes on the wall across the room. “It’s not,” he replies, “He died when you were 15, you had 3 years of that.” I’m almost surprised he remembered the exact time like that, though maybe he had been thinking about it and started to calculate. I don’t say anything for I have nothing to say at all, I don’t talk about it and I’ve tried to forget it. “I shoulda known,” he repeats. I turn my head to look at him being met with his side profile, his eyebrows scrunched together and his jaw tense, he was beating himself up over something he couldn’t control. “I didn’t expect you to help me or save me you know, or anyone for that matter. Just hanging out with you and Sammy was enough.”

His jaw seems to twitch, “I saw some bruises before, but you said it was from a hunt you helped your Dad with. You're a lousy liar so I should’ve known.”

“Dean,” I say firmly,  touching his shoulder. He meets my eyes, his green eyes are cold, “Trust me when I say it wasn’t your fault, it was no one’s fault. It just happened. And it’s over now, has been for a while.”

He swallows roughly, his Addams apple bobbing, and I know he doesn’t believe me, “It’s your Dad’s fault, he’s a prick. Don’t matter if he was grieving or not.”

I frown, remove my hand from his arm, and focus my attention back on the wall. I can feel his gaze burning into the side of my face, “Don’t tell me you actually feel bad for him…” he says but I don't answer, “You don’t blame him?” he asks confused, leaning forward in an attempt to catch my eyes. I shrug, shrinking further into myself in an attempt to make myself smaller, “I don–I don’t know. He wasn’t always like that…he just….Mom was gone so…” I exhale a shaky breath, “I know it was wrong, that he shouldn’t have been doing that. I know that. It’s not like I forgive him or anything, I mean he hurt my brother—”

“And you,” Dean cuts me off to add.

“Yeah…and I know there are healthier ways of coping, I don’t condone his actions and I couldn’t imagine how anyone could do that to their kids but Mom was gone and…”

“There is no ‘but’ and you know that. Your explanation isn't going anywhere ‘cause there’s no excuse for that,” he interjects firmly. I know he’s right, but it doesn’t feel right to believe or say and I don’t know why. “He was only mean when he was drunk, otherwise he was quiet or gone,” I try to reason but the words feel wrong as they leave my mouth. “Not an excuse,” he counters.

“I know,” I mumble, “But! It started as an accident!” I say looking at Dean, “And it was necessary. He was on a hunt by himself and we knew he would be back soon but it was late so me and B/N made dinner together, we ate and saved some for him. B/N ended up falling asleep early, his football practice totally knocked him out, so I stayed up and waited at the kitchen table to make sure Dad got home okay. When he finally did get home he was very drunk and smelt like alcohol, I helped him and he was babbling about Mom. He pushed me off of him, ‘said he could do it himself so I backed off a little.

Then he was trying to get to the fridge for another beer but I got in his way cause I knew he had too much and should have water instead, he called me some mean names that I don’t wish to repeat. I’m very stubborn so I didn’t move and he hit me, it was just a slap though. But I have this whole defense mechanism and if my body thinks it’s in true danger then my powers will start working to defend me without really my control, and it’s very hard to shut off. So things started to rattle, and a picture frame on the mantel of Mom broke and that really made him upset so he hit me again this time harder and I actually passed out. But that’s okay! cause nothing else broke and I could’ve really hurt someone or if it got too out of control then I could’ve gotten the attention of hunters.”

I stop my rambling of the story, watching Dean’s face to see if he finally understood. But his eyes were filled with so much sadness and his face dropped with sympathy, a frown on his lips. “What?” I ask confused, didn’t he get it now? He doesn’t answer, instead, he wraps his arms around me, bringing me into his chest. I shift my legs so I can hug him back comfortably, but I hold onto his arms more confused than anything. “Wasn’t necessary,” he says, his chin on my head. I open my mouth to say something else, to say he’s wrong but it hits me then. I was being an idiot, a total fool.

If someone told me that story I would feel bad for them and say they didn’t deserve that, they did nothing wrong in the first place. But it wasn’t someone else’s story, it was mine, and somehow that made it different. Right?

It shouldn’t. I know it shouldn’t, so why do I feel this way? I’m not normally like this. “Wasn’t your fault. You were a kid and you were trying to help, he’s an asshole and shouldn’t have done any of it,” Dean says softly.

Tears run down my cheek. I didn’t like his Dad because he didn’t treat them well so why was I making excuses for my Dad? Was it because of Mom? She loved him so wholly but still would have despised what he became, did he know that? Did that only make him feel worse?

And just because he wasn’t always mean to us doesn’t mean it was okay. Because it was more than being mean, I know that.

I know by morning I’ll be in a better mood. I’ll have a different perspective on things that I won’t understand for a while, I’m self-aware enough to know that too. But it will be okay because things always turn out okay, they always get better. Tomorrow will always be a new day and the sun will shine brighter.

I pull away from Dean just far enough to look at him, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, it was nothin’ against you.”

He gently wipes away a tear falling down my cheek, “Stop apologizing.”

I open my mouth to apologize for apologizing but seeing the issue there I lean my head into his chest again. We stay there silently for a while and I try to focus on the soft rise and fall of his chest instead of my mind. He rubs a hand up and down my back, and my shoulders drop. It’s been a long day with a lot of emotions and I was tired. “He can’t hurt you anymore. ‘Won’t let anyone hurt you,” he whispers just barely audible. But my eyes were fluttering shut, growing heavy so maybe I imagined it and the soft press of his lips to my crown.

Tomorrow will be better, I remind myself.

[onemustalwaysbecarefulofbooks]

Why I Dislike Rhysand, Part 2: #NotMyHighLord

Part 2 in the rant I have suppressed for the past several years. Rhysand Stans, be warned, this is not for you. Be prepared to see critiquing of SJM’s writing as well. Proceed at your own risk!! 

I feel like this section of the rant is going to be the one that most people have seen, heard, or expressed themselves already. I myself have seen many posts and takes on this before. There will probably be the least amount of original ideas in this post. Nonetheless, I can’t turn down an opportunity to finally say it in my own words. 

In Part 1 of my rant (and many other posts), I discussed how Sarah J Maas blatantly has an insane sort of obsession with Rhysand. It is impossible not to notice and acknowledge if you read the series from start to finish. All it takes is about 2 minutes listening to her speak about anything related to him for you to see it as well. He is unequivocally Her Favorite and she has demonstrated that by deeming him to be THE MOST of many different things, especially in comparison with others. I made a post last summer about how I really struggle to define what I think of Sarah as an author overall. She has given me some of my favorite fictional characters of all time, written scenes and exchanges between characters that I carry in my heart and soul and overall provided me with an endless amount of entertainment. On the other hand, a GLARING fault I find there to be with her is that she often writes in an extremely puzzling and contradictory way: beating us over the head with something about a character she presents as being true, verbally stated through the dialogue of characters or through the narrative of the story, while having these characters act and behave in a totally OPPOSITE way to the way they are being described by everyone. And this obviously contradictory behavior is never addressed by anyone in the story--or if it is, the ones calling attention to it are vilified and shown in a negative light, even though they are providing commentary on actions carried out canonly by these characters. 

In the simplest form, it’s like this: The author creates a character who others routinely say is the most kind, unselfish, loving, and generous person to grace the planet. An opportunity will NEVER be lost to state these things, through the narrative and through the dialogue of other characters. The fandom comes to accept these things as totally canon traits. You hear the author repeat these same beliefs. The character becomes a favorite of the fandom, who praises him/her for being so kind and selfless. You get excited to read about such a character and open the book yourself. . .only to find scene after scene where the character acts in a way that is cruel, selfish, and arrogant. All while everyone else continues to laud them for being so wonderful. There is a direct contradiction between what you’re seeing and what you’re being told. Tons and tons of readers seem to find nothing unusual about this. You’re left with the feeling that you’re in some kind of insane asylum where nothing makes sense but no one questions it. 

This is the feeling I get whenever I hear about what an amazing High Lord Rhysand is. 

As we’ve established, SJM is obsessed with Rhys. Therefore, she automatically makes Rhys the best at whatever he does. One day I’d love to do a drinking game where we take a shot every time someone reminds us that Rhys is The Most Powerful High Lord In Prythian’s History (he should really just get that phrase trademarked at this point). But in addition to that, we are also often reminded about what a good, just, fair, and progressive beloved ruler he is. 

Rhys as High King: he could think of no other male he’d trust more. No other male who would be a fairer ruler than Rhys. And with Feyre as High Queen. . .Prythian would be blessed to have such leaders. (Cassian, ACOSF, page 451) 

There are a lot of ACOTAR lines that provoke actual visceral anger and disgust in me. This is probably in my All Time Top 3.

Yeah, Rhysand is SUCH a great High Lord!! Didn’t you know. . . there are no slums in Velaris!!

There’s just, you know, female mutilation going on in the mountains!

Where to even BEGIN unloading? 

I guess I’ll begin here: One of the reasons I strongly dislike Rhysand as a character is because he’s a terrible High Lord.

(And what makes me infuriated and passionately dislike Rhysand is the fact that we are beaten over the head by what an exceptionally wonderful High Lord he is despite the glaring faults shown in the text). 

I really really fail to understand how anyone can believe any differently, when it is canonly stated that two thirds of Rhysand’s court are hellish and terrible places. Women are oppressed and mutilated, people who are brutal and cruel are basically given free reign to do as they please, there is not an ounce of respect given to their so-called true ruler. 

And Rhys, “The Most Powerful High Lord in Prythian’s History” has done. . .nothing. Nothing to truly change either of these places. 

Let’s start with Illyria. 

We all know how horrible life is for Illyrian females. They are forbidden to train, are viewed as vessels for breeding, and have their wings clipped at a young age so they can’t fly. Cassian’s mother is raped by an Illyrian warrior and then worked to death, when her body is dumped off a cliff. Azriel’s mother has her young son taken from her by the male who sired him and relies on his mercy as to when he can be released from his literal prison cell to see him. Rhys’s mother was starving herself so she wouldn't get her period, which is when her wings would have been clipped when she was saved from her fate by his father’s mating bond. Emerie and her mother are horrifically abused by her father, resulting in her mother’s death. Emerie tells Nesta and Gwyn that he would slam her head into walls, crunch her fingers in doors, and that he broke her fucking back. Like most females, her wings are clipped so she’s unable to fly. Upon her father’s death, she gains control of his store much to the displeasure of her male family members who frequently harass and threaten her about it. 

It’s plain to see that these are not randomly occurring isolated situations. Abuse can happen anywhere, with anyone, but there is CLEARLY a cultivated system of abuse and oppression among Illyrian females. Rhys tells us that he has banned the clipping of Illyrian female wings and is slowly working towards implementing changes that will allow women to have more freedom and choices. He tells Feyre that the Illyrians are “slow to change” and that it will take a long time to completely undo the way they’ve lived their lives for centuries. 

I’m sorry, I call BULLSHIT.

The attempts we’ve seen towards this so far in the story have been half-assed at best. Rhysand makes these laws but doesn’t put anything into place to actually enforce them. In ACOMAF, we get this from Devlon, the war lord who rules over the Windhaven camp:

“Another inspection? Your dog,” he jerked his chin toward Cassian, “was here just the other week. The girls are training.”

Rhysand’s strategy to prevent female wing clipping: Tell the violent sexist males with all the power in the camps that it’s banned. Send Cassian in once a week to check up on it. 

That’s it. 

Allow me to demonstrate how utterly ridiculous and contradictory this is.

In ACOMAF, we have the scene where the IC visits the Court of Nightmares (oh don’t worry, we’ll touch on this place in a bit). Right before their departure, Keir insults Feyre and calls her a whore. (Sidenote: no one should ever be called a whore and I am no way in the SLIGHTEST defending Keir but honestly, I don’t know what Rhys expected. It’s like when Rhys goes out of his way to act evil and do evil things and then everyone takes offense to people calling him evil. He dresses Feyre up in skimpy revealing clothing, has her sit on his lap on his throne, and proceeds to basically finger her in front of an entire throne room of people. It’s stated a million times that fae can sense and smell arousal, and both her and Rhys are both completely turned on by this. Feyre calls HERSELF his whore: “The High Lord’s whore. Who I’d become Under the Mountain--who the world expected me to be. The dangerous new pet that Mor’s father would now seek to feel out.” Like. . .buddy, you have her play and act the part of “The High Lord’s whore” and make a public scene in front of a man who has no respect for women, and then are enraged when he calls her a whore. What did you think he would do?? How did you think he would respond?? It’s almost like he was purposely trying to goad Kier into a reaction so he could punish him for it, honestly). 

ANYWAY. . .Keir calls Feyre a whore. And Rhys loses his shit:

Night exploded into the room.

People cried out. And when the darkness cleared, Keir was on his knees.

Rhys still lounged on the throne. His face a mask of frozen rage.

“Apologize”, Rhys said. My heart thundered at the pure command, the utter wrath.

Keir’s neck muscles strained, and sweat broke out on his lip.

“I said,” Rhys intoned with such a horrible calm, “apologize”.

The Steward groaned. And when another heartbeat paused--

Bone cracked. Keir screamed.

And I watched--I watched as his arm fractured into not tow, not three, but four different pieces, the skin going taut and loose in all the wrong spots--

Another crack. His elbow disintegrated. My stomach churned.

Keir began sobbing, the tears half from rage, judging by the hatred in his eyes as he looked at me, then Rhys. But his lip formed the words, I’m sorry.

The bones of his other arm splintered, and it was an effort not to cringe.

Rhys smiled as Keir screamed again and said to the room, “Should I kill him for it?”

No one answered.

Rhys chuckled. He said to his Steward, “When you wake up, you’re not to see a healer. If I hear that you do. . .” Another crack--Keir’s pinkie finger went saggy. The male shrieked. “If I hear that you do, I’ll carve you into pieces and bury them where no one can stand a chance of putting you together again.”

Keir’s eyes widened in true terror now. Then, as if an invisible hand had struck the consciousness from him, he collapsed to the floor.

Rhys said to no one in particular, “Dump him in his room”. 

Now. . .does this in ANY way, shape, or form seem like a man who has trouble getting people who are opposed to him to do what he wants them to do?????????

Rhys doesn’t even move off of his throne and he has Keir groveling on the floor with his arm shattered into pieces. It takes no effort whatsoever on his part. He is, after all, The Most Powerful High Lord in Prythian’s History, in case you’d forgotten. He later laments to Feyre about how ashamed he is for her to see “that side” of him. Feyre says:

“You’re my friend--and I understand that you’re High Lord. I understand that you will defend your true court, and punish threats against it.”

DO YOU SEE THE RIDICULOUSNESS AT PLAY HERE.

Sarah. You can not have it both ways. You can not have Rhys claim that he is “doing all he can” to defend the Illyrian females and protect them from the violent males in their lives and then simultaneously give us this scene. Keir hates Rhys’s guts and I’m sure would gladly not only refuse every order he gave him, but also run him through with a sword. Does it seem like any bit of this matters in this moment? 

One of the responses to this I stumbled across on Reddit literally floored me. Someone brought up this very argument, that Rhys had more power to control the situation in Illyria if he really wanted to, and I saw several people respond with: “Well, if he literally tried to control them, either through physical intimidation or mind control, then he’d be a tyrant, and that’s not who Rhys is. That’s not who he wants to be. Is that really what you’re suggesting?? You want him to be a tyrant who controls people???”

Um. . .YES???

Like. . .do these people hear what they’re saying??? Do they understand the concept of “context matters”????. Do I want Rhys to walk around flaunting his power over innocent law abiding citizens of the Night Court who are minding their own business and not hurting anybody? Obviously no. But do I want him to use his power in a meaningful way to punish people who are physically mutating and beating women to death??? Hello??? The lengths some people will go to to defend this man is incredible.

What is the POINT of Rhysand having all this power if he doesn’t use it to defend the good and the innocent??? What is the POINT of him being “tHE mOsT poWERful HiGH lORD in PryTHIAN’S hIsTorY” if he sits on his power while innocent people in his court are being abused under his watch???

Spoilers for Queen of Shadows: To me, this is like someone saying Lysandra shouldn’t slit Arobynn’s throat in his sleep because it would make her a murderer. Is that what I want??? For Lysandra to be a murderer?? Does the average person deserve to have their throat slit in their sleep?? No. But does Arobynn?? YES. 

These Illyrian males, if they are behaving in the ways we hear about in the story, DESERVE to have their asses handed to them by Rhysand! They DESERVE whatever punishment comes their way! Don’t want your arm shattered into a million pieces?? Don’t fucking mutilate and beat your wife!!! Easy as that!!

For real change to come about in the Illyrian camps, there needs to be a zero tolerance policy, with public punishment and humiliation, to send a message to everyone that this kind of thing will no longer be tolerated under any circumstances. There needs to be trustworthy people from Rhys’s court stationed there at all times to actually enforce this. I’m not saying that there wouldn't be things that slip past the enforcers, or that Rhys and the Inner Circle have the power to actually change the will and opinions of the males who do this kind of thing. They almost certainly won’t gain any respect from these males. But at the end of the day, it’s very simple. You don’t have to like it, or us, but you WILL stop partaking in this behavior. If you don’t, your consequence is going to be so severe you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it. 

One might ask, This seems pretty straightforward, why hasn’t Rhys attempted anything like this already?? If these males are willing to commit such evil deeds, why even waste his time at all with them? Who CARES if they go rogue and refuse to fight for him anymore? Could it possibly be because he needs the Illyrian soldiers as the main component of his armies? He doesn’t want to outwardly anger these war generals so strongly that they no longer cooperate or associate with him? 

So, what you’re saying is. . .Rhys turns a blind eye to female abuse in his court . .because he needs the might from these people in his armies.

If I’m wrong and you have a rebuttal, I’m all ears. But I’m not really sure what other conclusion I’m supposed to arrive at. Rhys CAN control, humiliate, and intimidate powerful people who go against him. But he’s choosing not to do it here. . .why? Because controlling and intimidating people is bad?? Even if it’s directed towards those who are killing and mutilating innocent people?? I don’t understand and I don’t think I ever will. 

Honestly, I thought the reason Illyria was being left as such a mess was deliberately done, because that was what Nesta’s story and arc was going to revolve heavily around. When they announced in that teaser way back in 2018 that she was going with Cassian to train in the Illyrian mountains, I was fully convinced that that was how she was going to “find herself”, by changing the lives of the Illyrian women and empowering them. I thought she would be a major catalyst in whatever happened there. And. . .that’s not what happened. Maybe that part of the story is still yet to be told, maybe she’s saving it for Azriel’s book or something. . .who knows. For the time being, I guess it’s just there for aesthetics, so the Bat Boys can have a tragic backstory. Still, even if it DOES change in later books, I would still be left wondering why Rhys, who Sarah claims is as different from the other High Lords as humans are to fae, didn’t do something about it sooner. 

On the subject of Illyrians, let’s talk about Feyre and her shape-shifted Illyrian wings for a minute. I’m sure everyone knows what I’m going to say, and you might argue that this is a critique of Feyre’s character and not Rhys’s. I both agree and disagree with that and to explain my reasoning, we’re going to have to back up a little bit. 

I made a post a couple years ago about how Feyre’s title as High Lady holds no real weight in the ACOTAR world and is nothing more than a fancy title and a sign of respect from her husband. Which is admirable in it’s own right, but it’s not truly what all the stans make it out to be. It’s stated as canon fact in the series that the High Lord is determined by whoever this mystical force (is it supposed to be The Mother? I don’t even know) in each court chooses. It’s not a monarchy. If I don’t like my High Lord, I can’t go out and kill him and declare myself the new High Lord. The magic of the court decides who it is. That’s how you end up having people like Tamlin, who have no desire to be High Lord become one. 

Anyway, all of this means that Feyre is NOT equal in power to Rhys, no matter what title he gives her. Let’s pretend their dumb-ass suicide pact doesn’t exist and Feyre can live on if he were to die. If Rhys were to die, Feyre wouldn't continue on as the magical High Lady ruler of the Night Court, while they all just did without a High Lord. The magic would select someone else to be the High Lord, with no regard for her. Feyre is only “High Lady” because Rhys says she is. She has no magical tie to the Night Court. She is a ruler in title only.

Don’t like it? Doesn’t sound very feminist?? Yeah, I’d agree. And for some insane reason, TAMLIN is blamed for the lack of High Ladies in Prythian rather than, uh. . .the woman who created the magic system that made it this way!!! 

(Seriously, the fact that Tamlin is shit on for telling Feyre there are no High Ladies is asinine. Tamlin is not giving personal commentary, he is stating fact. Remember how shocked everyone is when the IC shows up to the High Lord’s meeting in ACOWAR and Rhys announces that Feyre is High Lady? There AREN’T any High Ladies of Prythian! But in ACOMAF, SJM has Rhys tell Feyre that there absolutely are. This is what I mean when I say SJM makes Rhys say and do completely nonsensical things simply for the sake of inflating him as a character. Logic doesn’t have to enter the conversation, if it makes him look good, that’s all that matters. Even if it directly contradicts something SHE wrote!!! It’s mind blowing, honestly). 

Wow, I got REALLY side tracked!! Anyway, you get the point: Feyre’s role as High Lady is really just a fancy title with no true magical tie behind it. But despite this, she is still Rhys’s wife, and therefore a certain level of respect is expected to be given to her. 

And if I were an Illyrian female, I’d find it REAL hard to conjure up any of that respect. 

In my opinion, SJM is guilty of not truly writing these characters with the scope that their immortality entails. Feyre is physically mature and an adult by human standards. But what constitutes an “adult” by fae standards? The IC is collectively thousands of years old. I find it hard to believe that they wouldn't have a hard time seeing someone in their early twenties as someone super young and naive. Especially if this someone wasn’t born a fae and was only transformed into one within the past couple years. 

Think about it. . .how many times have you had a conversation with someone who is older than you, maybe by generations, maybe by just several years and they’ve made comments about how young you are, or how “one day you’ll feel differently” or “one day you’ll understand”. They speak with a wisdom that they claim comes from simply existing longer and going through phases of life you haven’t reached yet. 

Now imagine somehow being over 500 years old and interacting with someone who is 21. They’d be an infant to you!! 

My point in saying this isn’t necessarily to say that I think Feysand’s relationship is creepy because he’s so much older than her. It’s really to say that, as I’ve stated, you can’t really hold Rhys and Feyre accountable in the same way as far as being high fae leaders goes. She hasn’t been alive even a fraction of the amount of time he has and she wasn’t born a fae. This isn’t her fault and I don’t think it’s something she should necessarily be disrespected for. She’s definitely smart and capable of making her own observations and decisions but at the end of the day, I don’t think you can really argue that it falls back on Rhys to help to guide and navigate her through this political life they lead. Rhys had been leading a country for 500 years by the time Feyre was shitting in diapers. Their experience is NOT the same. 

So at the end of the day, I think that Feyre’s use of Illyrian wings says as much about Rhys as it does about her. 

Imagine the pain and the anger you would feel as an Illyrian woman to see your so-called “High Lady” flaunting the wings you were born with and using them to escape to the freedom of the skies, something you had been denied of against your will. She knows nothing of the trials and tribulations you face each day, the abuse you endure. She was not born into your culture, nor does she take the time to try and help you, or get to know you, or learn about you. But she shifts the Illyrian wings onto her back and takes to the sky to do really important things like have sexual intercourse with the High Lord above the most populated city in the court, while you remain trapped on the ground. Imagine the anger you’d feel at your so-called High Lord, who allows his new wife to flutter around Velaris on perfect un-maimed wings, while claiming he wants to advocate for and protect you but does the bare minimum. 

To be clear: I most certainly hold Feyre accountable for this thoughtless decision. She is more than capable of deciding for herself what she feels is right and wrong. But as I’ve stated, I have a really hard time not also putting part of the blame on Rhys here. As I established, Feyre was not born into fae culture and she is a child compared to most of the fae living in the Night Court. Rhys, on the other hand, is over 500 years old, has Illyrian culture in his bloodline, and has been living among these people, leading them, for almost his entire life. I’d like to think he’d have the foresight to pull Feyre aside and explain to her that while she may not have initially considered it, it could be viewed as disrespectful and offensive for the Illyrian women to see her gallivanting around with Illyrian wings when most of theirs have been clipped. 

If I were an Illyrian women, I think it would be nearly impossible for me not to feel a strong bitterness towards Feyre and Rhysand. One could make the argument that Feyre is young and naive and doesn’t truly understand Illyrian culture. The same argument could NOT be said about Rhys. 

So thanks, High Lord, for flapping around shiny happy Velaris with your wife and her fake Illyrian wings, having kinky Illyrian wing sex, while doing the bare minimum to help and protect the women who were actually BORN with Illyrian wings. 

Alright, moving on from that mess, let’s touch on the Court of Nightmares. 

Now, a lot of what I have to say here is going to be the same as what I said about Illyria. But honestly, I feel like this place gets the even shorter end of the stick. 

One of the most truly bizarre things to me in the ACOTAR series is this idea that the people of Hewn City/the Court of Nightmares are somehow just all evil malicious wicked people who are happy to live sequestered in this underground kingdom. This is a super weird notion and I’m not sure at all how Sarah validates it. Especially when a character like Mor exists. You’re telling me she was the only “dreamer” born into the Court of Nightmares? No one else is suffering the way she was? I don’t get it. 

I’ve heard the argument made before that it’s quite possible that this kind of wickedness is specific only to Mor’s family. I’ve heard people say that we’ve never really seen anything in the Court of Nightmares other than the household she grew up in. So it’s actually quite plausible, people say, that the rest of the court is just a normal court, there’s no evidence to suggest that this kind of abuse is happening among the entire group of people. (They claim we are “reaching” for things to blame Rhys for). 

Yeah, NO. Sorry, that’s just a willfully stupid take. Here’s what we hear about this place from ACOMAF:

“The nobility of the Night Court fall into one of three categories: those who hated me enough that when Amarantha took over, they joined her court and later found themselves dead; those who hated me enough to try to overthrow me and faced the consequences; and those who hated me, but not enough to be stupid and have since tolerated a half-breed’s rule, especially when it so rarely interferes with their miserable lives.”

“Are they--are they the ones who live beneath the mountain?”

A nod. “In the Hewn City, yes. I gave it to them, for not being fools. They’re happy to stay there, rarely leaving, ruling themselves and being as wicked as they please, for all eternity.” 

That was the court he must have shown Amarantha when she first arrived--and its wickedness must have pleased her enough that she modeled her own after it. (pages 175-176)

Not enough to convince you? Here’s Mor explaining it in her own words:

“In the Court of Nightmares,” she went on, that voice falling soft and a bit cold once more, “females are. . .prized. Our virginity is guarded, then sold off to the highest bidder--whatever male will be of the most advantage to our families.”

‘I was born stronger than anyone in my family. Even the males. And I couldn’t hide it, because they could smell it--the same way you can smell a High Lord’s Heir before he comes to power. The power leaves a mark, an. . .echo. When I was twelve, before I bled, I  prayed it meant no male would take me as a wife, that I would escape what my elder cousins had endured: loveless, sometimes brutal, marriages.”

“But then I began bleeding a few days after I turned seventeen. And the moment my first blood came, my power awoke in full force, and even that gods-damned mountain trembled around us. But instead of being horrified, every single ruling family in the Hewn City saw me as a prize mare. Saw that power and wanted it bred into their bloodline, over and over again.”

Is everyone sufficiently convinced now? Okay great. 

And Rhys, by his own omission, allows them to “rule themselves” as a reward for not being foolish enough to challenge HIS authority.

But do they REALLY rule themselves?? Take a second and scroll back up to read the excerpt I already included where Keir calls Feyre a whore and Rhys absolutely wrecks him. Who does it seem like is really in charge here? 

I’m sorry, I get viscerally angry over this. In the Court of Nightmares scene, Keir is written 100% completely and totally as Rhysand’s groveling little bitch. He is literally nothing compared to Rhys. Rhys is total power and domination. Seriously:

He led me the few steps onto the dais--to the throne. He sat, smiling faintly at his monstrous court. He owned every inch of the throne. These people. (page 409)

Before Rhys, Keir was nothing more than a sullen child. Yet I knew Mor’s father was older. Far older. The Steward clung to power, it seemed. 

Rhys was power. (page 411) 

This entire scene honestly disgusts me and is so stupid. Rhys swaggers in and the entire throne room drops to one knee in submission. It’s told over and over that he exudes raw power that no one there can even hope to compete with. We’re told he “owns” the people, that Keir is nothing more than a child compared to him. He snaps his fingers and orders Keir to bring Feyre wine and he does it! Mor calls Rhys “Your High Lord” when speaking to Keir. Keir “grovels” when Rhys suggests that the wine he brought them is poisoned. And then the ordeal where he starts shattering bones in his arm one at a time, forbidding him from seeking any healing on pain of death, eventually knocking him out. 

SO IF THIS IS THE CASE. . .WHY. TOLERATE. KEIR. AT. ALL????????????????

If this is how easy it is to control this man, why on EARTH is he given one INCH of control in this place???? The whole scene loses its meaning entirely. . .why do they need to STEAL this orb from him?? In ACOWAR, why does Rhys need to BARGAIN with him about the use of his armies??? (at the expense of Mor’s feelings and security!!!!) Why are these people ALLOWED to treat females the way they treated Mor??!? 

There are two answers here and both of them are shitty:

Option 1) SJM just wants to write scenes to fulfill her dark!Rhys fetish. She needs the Court of Nightmares for her Rhys aesthetic. That’s where the true reason for scenes like this begin and end. She wants to write scenes where we all marvel and swoon at Rhys’s “raw power”. We don’t need logic, it has no place here. We’re supposed to ignore everything else and just swoon over Rhys, as usual. We’re not really supposed to think too hard about Keir because he’s literally just a prop that is there for the purpose of having Rhys flex his power. It’s the epitome of wanting to have your cake and eat it too. She wants all aspects of what makes Rhys sexy and doesn’t care how she makes it happen. She wants the hot, powerful, wicked High Lord we got to see in ACOTAR, but she also wants the saint she made him out to be in the rest of the series. So we’re just supposed to ignore the fact that in making it plainly obvious that he is able to control these people means that he should be able to apply this to making innocent people’s lives better down there but isn’t. 

Option 2) Rhys is deliberately allowing the wickedness and evil behavior to continue to put on a front for the rest of the world. He says that the Court of Nightmares is the version the outside world gets to see of the Night Court. It’s how Amarantha came to design her own court with it as an inspiration. It’s why everyone has such a negative view of the Night Court. Rhys is praised by the IC and pitied by much of the fandom for the “sacrifice” he makes in putting on this evil front and lets the world believe of him, in order to protect his “true” court--the Court of Dreams, the City of Starlight. I’m sorry, what sacrifice???? What is Rhys sacrificing of himself by doing this? He sits on his throne in total control and power while others grovel at his feet. I’m supposed to feel sorry for him that his reputation is being tarnished by the rest of the world seeing this while people like Mor are having nails driven into their bodies because they went against their family’s wishes regarding their virginity and marriage??? No, I’m sorry. The only people I feel sorry for are the people he is doing this on the backs of. Because the fact of the matter is: Rhys needs an evil court to put on this show for the rest of the world. And you can not have evil people without evil deeds. And you can not have evil deeds without victims. Evil people are evil because of their actions to other people. 

So Option 2 is. . .Rhys is allowing people to be abused in the Court of Nightmares and not putting a stop to it because he needs an “Evil Court” smokescreen to protect his REAL court. 

Again. . .do you see why I have such a hard time liking him???

Also, after ACOMAF the whole world knows about Velaris anyway. So there’s no need for a smokescreen evil court anymore. But has anything changed?? NOPE. 

Not only that. . .but if this is the face he puts on for the people of the Hewn City, this is who most of the people there probably believe him to truly be. If another female, or anyone else really, is in a horrible situation like Mor’s, what would make them think that Rhys is someone they could approach or reach out to for help? They're probably terrified of him! The whole situation is just so fucked up and awful. 

What’s also fucked up and awful is the fact that while all of this exists in both Illyria and the Hewn City, Rhys has a shelter/sanctuary in Velaris for abused women. Sorry, get your fake feminism out of here. You can’t stick that detail into the story and expect it to erase blatant abuse of women happening in two thirds of Rhysand’s court. . .under his watch!!!!! When he has the power to stop it!!! 

I’ve heard many people try and make the claim that Rhys is written to be contradictory in this way to prove that he is a “morally gray character” and to that, I call total bullshit. For one, allowing the blatant abuse of women when you have the power to stop it isn’t “morally gray” , its borderline irredeemable. And two, I’ve said it before. . .listen to SJM talk about Rhys. Read the ACOTAR series. This woman is so far up his butthole, I’m wondering if he somehow offered her her own riverfront mansion. She honestly believes him to be God’s gift to humanity!! 

So again, we’re back to my same age-old question: Is SJM a good writer or a bad writer?? I don’t really think it’s as simple as sticking one word on her writing to label it one way or the other. As I said, I’ve gotten immense enjoyment out of some of Sarah’s work and have been blown away by the places she takes her characters and stories. But in this case. . .it’s objectively awful. You’re giving me this character who you’re constantly telling me is good and righteous and incredible, beating me over the head with the level of worship he gets by the narrative, but then you’re making him do things that are like really blatantly terrible. And he faces NO accountability for it! Like???? You are the author??? You can control the things he does?? If you really believe that he’s that great, why don’t you just write him that way??? Why beat us over the head with how great he is, only to make him do awful things and then completely ignore them?? I’m telling you, it’s almost bizarre. . .like she’s seeing just how far she can go with what people will excuse. It's mind boggling!! 

(Honestly what’s even more mind boggling is the sheer number of people who lap this up and accept it completely. For the life of me, I can not understand how people are so blind to this stuff!) 

You can’t have it both ways, Sarah. You can’t tell us Rhys is the most powerful high lord ever born and expect me to believe that there’s nothing more he can do for Illyrian females and the “dreamers” of the Court of Nightmares. Especially when we’ve seen him demonstrate otherwise! Like I said earlier. . .if he’s not using his power for good, what is even the point of it?? 

So, to sum up: We are told over and over again how utterly powerful and incomparable Rhys is as well as what an honorable and giving High Lord he is. We see raw power displays from him where he swiftly and forcefully exerts brutal punishment on those who offend or go against him without so much as breaking a sweat. Despite this, he adopts a passive view on the Illyrians, banning wing clipping and the mistreatment of females but not doing anything to really enforce it, and continues to allow females in the Court of Nightmares to be abused and brutalized because he needs his evil Night Court aesthetic to protect the IC and Velaris. 

My Ick Factor is OFF THE CHARTS. 

And let me just end by saying….try and picture our Queen and Savior, Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius allowing the mutilation and abuse of women in Terrasen because “change is slow to happen”….and she needed some armies. AELIN WOULD NEVER.

It is a dream of mine to see her humble Rhys.

So, yeah. . .Rhys is a terrible High Lord. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

Part 3 is probably my most highly anticipated rant---we’ll call it “Let’s Talk About Tamlin”. Coming soon! 

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Hi babe, congrats on your milestone!❤️

It's so hard to pick between all these choices😩

Would you please write for Harwin Strong - spanking🧎🏻‍♀️

Win some, lose some (Harwin Strong x Reader)

Summary: Harwin and his wife have a disagreement over communication skills. The end result is exactly as the title says.

Warnings: Mature language. Spanking. Established dom/sub dynamics. Light aftercare. I'm not sure it counts as smut but smut?

Requested: Yes! I get it, tough choices. Hope you enjoy!

A/N: Due to a mistake on my part, I did not erase the space for spanking on time. I got two requests. So, Alicent anon, don't worry. I will write yours too, but I will try to space it out to not post two similar fics. 

You sit on a small armchair by the fire with a sullen expression. Nerves pool on your stomach, but they are quickly won over by the feelings of annoyance. You have been told you will get punished after he is done working, but you are more angry than scared. You did act out to get his attention, and even then, Harwin cannot even pretend to care. He is just treating your punishment as another task in a long list he has to fulfill before going to bed. 

Harwin sits at his desk, going over something that has countless numbers and math. A budget, most likely. You know the Master of Coins has been pressuring the gold cloaks into tightening their belts, or so to speak. 

The transition of leadership has not been an easy thing. Many of the men were loyal not to their cause, protecting the citizens of King’s Landing, but to their previous Commander. 

You do not begrudge Harwin for taking the position. It was an honorable one, being the Lord Commander of the City Watch. It spoke of the trust both his father and the King had in his abilities at combat and leadership. Yet… You can’t help but feel that the change has taken its toll on your marriage. 

He is always busy. Gone are the days that you would spend lazing around in bed or curled together by the fire. Or even the days Harwin took you for a ride or hunt. Now, he comes to your shared rooms at odd hours, and gets up every day at the crack of dawn.

You try to remind yourself that Harwin is a busy man, and that his attention and opinions are required elsewhere. The men need him to direct the training exercises, the council wants his input for the security of the King as he visits the small folk. It’s a good thing. 

You squirm in your seat, pouting. Harwin looks up from his papers and tuts. 

“Don’t. You will only get yourself in more trouble if you keep pouting.” 

“I just don’t think I deserve to be punished.” You answer, bravely. And it’s the truth. You don’t feel like you deserve a punishment. Why did you have to obey his silly rules when he was not there to witness the consequences of your disobedience? What was the point, even? Harwin was never home. 

“I doubt that’s your decision to make. If it depended on the rule breakers, all the cells would be empty.” Harwin’s voice was collected and calm. Cold, even. Yet, it was not that what made your blood boil. His words were. The comparison. It reminded you of the reason all of this started. Why did he have to bring work into everything? It seemed that even in your time together, he was not fully present. He simply cared more about his job than he cared about his wife. 

“… You said I was allowed to stay in your study if I didn’t distract you.” You retorted, gritting your teeth. Your whole face was heating, not in shame but anger. Your ears were burning, your neck felt hot, and you were about to do something that you would really regret. Closing your eyes, you breathed in deeply.

“And what did you do?” Harwin put the parchment and quill down. He looked at you for the first time. His expression was unreadable. You thought of getting up and grabbing that dammed budget and tearing it to pieces. 

“I was not distracting you! I was only… Playing with myself.” And what if you were? Really. It could hardly be called that. You had only been squeezing your thighs together. And perhaps rolling your hips a little. “And I never touched myself!” 

Why did you have to obey his silly rules? He was never here. The prohibition for touching yourself had started as a fun way to spice up your bedroom activities. Harwin enjoyed your neediness, when you had not been touched for a while. You suspected he also enjoyed the idea of being the only one that got to touch you in such a way. 

Before, it had not been hard to comply. As any self-respecting young maiden, fearful of the Seven, you had never even approached a hand towards your cunny. Only for washing yourself, and never lingering or exploring too much. 

Harwin had been the one who had introduced you to the pleasures of the flesh. It had been him who had encouraged you to explore all the wondrous feelings your body had to offer. Doing it without him seemed silly. You had touched yourself at his instance, and found great pleasure, but it was not the same that when it was his hands on your skin.

But after nearly a month of not being able to have sex with your husband, you understood exactly why you would want to please yourself. You craved the release. Even if you knew it would not be the same, you were so desperate, any peak would be better than no peak. Even if it were one brought on by yourself.

It was hardly your fault. Anyone would feel aroused after nearly a month with only stolen kisses to get you by.  The sight of your husband in only a linen shirt and pants, bent over his desk had been too much. Watching as the muscles of his back flexed, how his big hands swallowed the quill he was using to take notes.  All that, mixed with the goblet of wine you had been nursing and the fact that Harwin had handed you his cloak to keep warm. Surrounded by his smell, inhibitions lowered by the wine, it was a miracle you had not jumped his bones yet. 

You felt like you were burning up with need. So you squeezed your thighs a little, and rubbed against the edge of your chair. You didn’t try to be subtle, secretly hoping that the sight of your neediness might entice him to do something about it. 

“That’s hardly better, little one. You were purposefully looking for loopholes.” Harwin said, oblivious to your thought process. He wore a stern expression that made you want to fold immediately. 

A month, you reminded yourself. You had been feeling alone for a month. 

“I know, but you had not been paying attention to me!” You complained, steeling yourself. This was a discussion you truly wanted to have beyond brattiness. It had not only been the lack of marital duties, but you missed spending time with him.

It comes out whinier than you intended. Much more pitiful, too. You don't realize, but Harwin's mood immediately shifts, from playful to serious. He can tell this is truly bothering you. 

Harwin pulled his chair back and spread his legs slightly. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight of his thighs spread in a pose that was so dominant. 

“Come here.” He ordered, brows pinching together. You didn't want to, knowing only punishment could await from your defiance. But you still did. Once you were in front of him, Harwin caressed your cheek with his thumb. “Was my poor wife feeling neglected?” 

To your horror, your eyes started to feel watery. 

“You spend all your time with the gold cloaks. Never with me.” Then, in a whisper so small, it tugged at Harwin's heartstrings. “Do you not want me anymore?” 

“I had not noticed you missed me so.” He confesses, pulling you into his lap. His touch is gentle, as always. His hands feel warm and solid against your waist. You straddle one of his thighs, still pouting. Harwin pulls you even closer. “I will make time for you, from now on.” 

“Thank you.” You mutter shyly on his neck. It's what you needed to hear. You stay on his lap for a while, cuddling in silence. The steady thump of his heart and his warmth comfort you. It's something you have deeply missed.

Despite wanting nothing more than just curl into his lap and sleep the night away, you still feel restless. Your button throbs between your legs, wanting attention. You cannot help but wonder what it would feel like, getting ravished by your husband after so long. How his hands would feel on your skin, deliciously calloused. How his face would pinch in the sweetest agony. How he would sound, entering you. 

Would he be capable of sliding right in, with how wet you are? Or would Harwin have to open you up as he had done on your first night together? 

You squirm. Harwin, thinking you are uncomfortable, shifts you to sit properly on his lap, resting his forehead on top of your head. The casual display of strength makes even more wetness gather between your thighs. 

“Are you alright, Wife?” Harwin starts running his hand over your hair, soothingly. He is unable to see your expression, and you are glad for it. You are so embarrassed it's starting to be physically painful. Here is Harwin, trying to comfort you, and you can't think of anything else but getting him into bed.

"You are much too pretty to be shedding tears over the likes of me. I apologize, for being so lacking lately. I have been paying so much attention to my duties with the King and forgotten about my most important ones.” 

“Harwin…” That he regrets it had not even crossed your mind. Too blinded by your feelings, you had never thought about how your outburst would make him feel. 

“As your husband, I made a vow. To be always yours. To protect you. I have not fulfilled either of those duties, being so far away.” He whispers, very quietly. You want to reassure him, but are unsure how. 

“You always come home to me.” You go back to your previous position, straddling his thigh, to be able to look him in the eyes. It breaks your heart. His brown eyes are all hurt puppy. 

“Perhaps physically. But my mind is still away, even when by your side. It's not right. You are my Lady. Mine to cherish. I have been a poor husband to you.” And it is true. You had thought about it, using much harsher words. Harwin clearly didn’t mean to hurt you, but you had been trying to rile him up on purpose. It makes you feel awful. You don’t want him to feel bad about himself, you just wanted to air out your frustrations. 

“Never say that. Never.” You muttered, fiercely, touching your forehead to his. “I have never thought you a bad husband.” 

“Only because you are too kind. I will do better, Wife.” 

You sigh, knowing it's no use contradicting him. Instead, you pull him in for a kiss, hoping he can hear all you cannot say. The kiss starts to get heated very soon, his hands grasping greedily at your hips. It has been a month since you had the time to do more than just kiss. Time to play one of your games. Both of you crave it, need it. 

As you pull apart, you give him a naughty little grin. 

"I still broke your rules.” 

Harwin chuckles.  His eyes have turned dark, pupils blown with lust. 

“Dirty girl. Do you want a punishment?” 

“Yes, please.” You look up at him, all starry eyed. Perhaps he will tell you to spend the night on your knees, serving him. Or perhaps you will have to obey his every command. Or, if you are very lucky, you will get to peak over and over until you pass out. 

Your breath hitches in excitement. You can't wait. 

“Over my lap. Hike up your nightgown.” 

The words burst your bubble immediately. Your shoulders slumped and you went back to pouting. Spanking was not what you had expected. While the physical side of it was fun, a little pain to go with your pleasure, it always wore you out mentally. There was something about it that left you feeling very vulnerable.

You understood why Harwin did it, though. It was an easy way to put you in your place. Spanking you in such a manner tugged at your subconscious. It was the manner in which children were punished. He doesn’t need harsh words or much pain to force you into submission. In fact, it stings even more when he does so with gentle words. You feel silly, after it. Harwin will coo and call you his good girl, and you will melt for him and do as he says.

"But… But…” You protest, despite knowing it’s useless. 

“You thought you would get something else?” Harwin asks, carefully tucking your hair behind your ears. His hands almost swallow your face. It gets you all shy. “My poor wife. Where did all your intelligence go? You know you did a poor job of communicating your needs. Instead of telling me of your loneliness, you threw a tantrum." 

“I… Harwin…” You plead, looking up at him. You are not sure what you are begging for. For Harwin to guide you, perhaps. You feel helpless. 

“Over my knee.”

Faced with the choice, you cannot bear the thought of disappointing him further. He is right, in a turnabout way. You could have done things different. In another life, a perfect one, you would have knocked the door to his study and asked to talk. You would have sat, like two adults, and told him you were frustrated because you missed him. Instead, you had mixed the games the two of you play with your real anger, turning into a bratty mess. 

You want to fix things. To not have to think, anymore. You take off his cloak and fold it neatly. Then, you hike up your nigh shift and lay down on his lap. You rest your hands on the floor, stretching to be able to do so. 

“Don't. You could hurt yourself.” Harwin rubbed your arse, gently. Warming you up. Then, without warning, his hand came down. You nearly shrieked. The sting was harsh, yet he seemed unwilling to let up. His hand came down again and again, in the same spot. You knew Harwin, though. Soon, it was not only going to sting. He liked building you up to it. 

His hand moves to your other cheek, spanking you with a slightly curved hand. It hurts differently, that way. It allows him to feel the overheated skin, how the flesh wiggles with each impact. 

Shame curls around your spine, twisting your stomach. You are still wet. It’s a deeply humiliating feeling. You are unable to think clearly, your mind slow and weary. As if you were treading through molasses. 

“I will not make you count, but you have to behave. No trying to get away.” Harwin warned, before spanking you again. This time, you started wiggling your toes in discomfort, fighting the urge to kick and scream. 

Your bottom feels already hot and abused, but Harwin is not letting up. You are really starting to hurt. Your vision starts to blur, and you try to grasp at the carpet, fighting to stay afloat. It’s no use, no use at all. Soon you are weeping with all you have.

“Are you going to stop being a good girl for me?” Harwin asks, rubbing soothingly at your shoulder blades. It’s only then that you realize you have been wiggling around, trying to get away from the pain. 

“I’m… Har-…Harwin… Sorry.” You blubber, unable to form the sentence right. You want to speak, but you are crying too hard for it. You feel dumb. Look at you, a noble lady with access to the best education Westeros has to offer. You had the best tutors, a Septa all to yourself. An education fit for a Princess. Yet, you can’t create a single sentence, overwhelmed by your feelings. 

Too big feelings, Harwin had called them once. You were, after all, a silly girl who needed her husband to guide her. Sometimes, your feelings get the best of you and make you unable to think clearly. 

That was why you liked these games. Submitting quieted all the voices in your head. There was nothing except obedience requiring your attention. Harwin made all the tough choices and took care of you, and you could focus on only being. 

“You are doing so good.” Harwin whispered, as he rubbed at the already abused skin. You hated how much it made you preen, getting praised. “So good for me. Just a little longer, and we will be done.” 

You slump on his lap, defeated. The hits keep raining on your vulnerable behind, and this time you are unable to quiet down. You whine, and weep and scream, but do not move an inch. You are sweating with the effort from keeping still, and there is nothing you want more than to bang your palms against the floor in a fit of rage.  But you do not. You keep still and focus on being good for Harwin. 

Your mind slows down. There is nothing but the pain, and breathing through it. Like being submerged in syrup, thoughts barely form before sinking heavily. You blink, trying to focus, but are unable to. There is only Harwin. 

His smell, his hands so big against you. His warm thighs under your stomach. His erection pressing against you, the way he sounds, excited little inhales at each hit. How he times them, alternating the placement in a predictable two-one count. Reliable. To care for you, hold you down, push you when you need him too. 

Time drags on. Perhaps it’s only a few minutes, or perhaps hours pass. You are unable to tell. Harwin lowers you gently to the rug and lays down beside you, careful not to press into your arse. 

“How are you?” He asks, tenderly brushing your tears away. You blink up at him, hazily. Still trapped in molasses, the words seem uttered from far away. You sniffle. 

Harwin smiles at you. You don’t feel capable of speaking just yet. With great effort, you raise your hand and brush his cheekbone. He leans into your touch. 

“I see, I see.” Harwin chuckles, and pulls you closer to him. You go willingly, nearly purring in contentment. 

You drift off like that, head on his chest, nestled close to his heart. 

[urfavbooblover]

Letter with lipstick || Ada Wong x female reader

Warnings: none

(remind me if I missed any)

- Resident evil 4 masterlist link -

Y/N’s pov:

Earlier:

Sitting on my bed, i stared down at the letter in my hands. Her handwriting was beautiful, less of the words she wrote to me. She’s on a mission again, all the way in spain and couldn’t tell me one thing about it, neither why she was there. “It’s important”, she committed to the paper i was holding.

She just ended the letter with “Love, Ada”, as my eyes landed on the kiss she placed right next to it, with the lipstick she always wore. The kinda red i love seeing on her and she knew all about it. I let out a sigh, “The woman that you are, Ada.”, i said, folding it together again.

Ada and I are close, too close just to be partners. We ‘slipped’ one time and in the next moment you saw our lips all up on each others.

I missed her. I couldn’t stand the thought of now not seeing her again for who knows how long. She’s good at what she’s doing, fulfilling her job just for everyone to be more than satisfied and i was feeling proud of her, for how far she has come. But the thought of losing her, especially when she’s so far away, has taken over my brain.

I informed myself about the situation, asking everybody for detailed answers. Anybody needs to know where she’s at, no? They weren’t down right away to tell me, but eventually gave in. Who were they to stop her from going there? Exactly, she did her own thing, going after what’s happening in rural spain.

“I need you to take me there.”, i commanded, standing tall against them. There was nothing they could do about this either. I’m not easily giving up, someone must have the trust to let me ‘surprise’ my woman. At least that’s what i liked to call it. I know Ada will be more than caught off to see me, however she wouldn’t mind. Quite the opposite. I can’t expect much different than a nice welcome.

Present:

Now here i am. I’ve been dropped off by the helicopter and one of my kind co workers who brought me to this place. I can thank him a lot for this, i guess i owe him something but that’s not my worry yet. I have to find her. So i didn’t think much, i rather started looking at the area around me.

It looks like a farm, the area is completely destroyed. I walked over dead bodies, scrunching up my face in confusion. Nothing i’ve never seen before, but someone must’ve been the cause of this. Was it Ada?

I was informed about a little story, so i went careful into this. I was here for only one thing actually. Ada. Whatever comes in my way isn’t as much as important as her, nothing is. No one else. I was ready to be confronted by her pretty self and sped up my walking through the paths and winding ways.

I was prepared for everything. I had my weapons and all that i could possibly need. I’d do anything to bring us both out of here. Anything for us. She surely knows i don’t give up easily and most definitely wouldn’t on her. No one even compares to her and the way she makes me feel. There’s no one quite like Ada.

I needed answers though. Am i really on the right track? I guess i was answering my own questions and thoughts when i came across a giant creature laying eliminated on the ground. Who else could’ve defeated it? She was here, i was more than convinced.

I jogged along the stony and muddy path, when i suddenly heard something. I slowly moved forwards to where those sounds came from, confirming myself that i’m hearing voices. It was all blurry and i didn’t know whose it might be. Till i made out the statute of a familiar woman. My eyes landed on her, my woman.

“No way..”, i whispered to myself, taking one more step towards her. “Ada!”, i shouted, catching her attention. Her body turned around, slightly facing me. I felt something in my stomach, when i saw her face. She immediately recognized me, her gaze softening but then again with confusion written all over her. She was completely stunned and couldn’t seem to move.

“Y/N?”, she said in a questioning tone, as i moved over to where she was standing. I was about to open my mouth, before i glanced down. A man stood there, his eyebrows were furried together as my face expression could be read as jealous. Who the fuck is he?

“Y/N. Look at me.”, i heard her soothing voice close to my face, interrupting my staring interaction with that guy. I slowly turned my head, seeing the slight worry on her. “What are you doing here? How did you get here in the first place? Are you hurt?”, she placed her hand on my arm, only ever showing so much weakness around me.

“I’m okay, Ada. I came here just for one reason, it was a pretty long flight.”, i explained, looking into her eyes that always shined so beautiful. “What about you?”, i asked as she moved her hand down to grab my own. “I’m on this mission, i was doing fine till i saw you. Now i’m feeling even better.”, she gave me a small wink before that strange man interrupted us.

“Uhm? I’m still here.”, he said in a nervous tone, letting out a playful chuckle. “Who is-“, “I have a deal with him.”, Ada interrupted my question, knowing what i was about to ask. She knew how protective i can be of her. Not in a controlling way though, most things i do are out of worry, making sure she’s doing as okay as she always claims.

“I got a name too, lady.”, “I’m Luis. You must be that girlfriend Ada kept mentioning and talking about.”, he continued. Ada’s eyes widened in response as a smirk formed on my face. So she called me her girlfriend behind my back? “Well yes i am.”, i confirmed very proudly, as i could see a rose color appear on her cheeks.

I placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, taking her hand in mine. “I missed you, Ada.”, i whispered and watched her nervous state. “I missed you even more, Y/N.” I smiled at her, before looking down at Luis once more. “You surely don’t mind.”, i said, pulling Ada with me as we walked away from that scene.

“Hey! How am i supposed to get up here though?!”, Luis yelled after us, all desperate. We both chuckled to ourselves and i took Ada to a quiet place. I moved close to her body, our face just a few inches apart. “I came here just for you.”, i whispered, tilting my head a little to the side.

“Oh what would i do without you, Y/N.”, Ada responded in her typical flirty voice. “Be glad you have me.”, i muttered, closing the gap between us. It’s been way too long since the last time i felt her soft lips against mine. They tasted just like cherries.

[chiriwritesstuff]

How do you think Joel would take care of sugar if she wasn’t feeling good with her mental health? 🥺

I’ve been feeling depressed lately and TGIIT Joel made me think. I always keep to myself when I start feeling like that and I feel like Sugar would be similar, in a “deal with it myself” kinda way and I think Joel would probably feel a bit hurt about it at first… but once sugar opens up to him about things, he realises that this is actually a very important thing for her and he feels very honoured that she trusts him with this too…

I just want a TGIIT Joel to hug me and tell me it’s gonna be okay tbh 🥺😭

My sweet Nonnie, thank you for reaching out. I can't say I know exactly how you feel because everyone experiences depression differently, but what I CAN say is that I've been there, and it's shit, and I'm sorry that you're going through it.

Sugar is definitely more on the introverted side and would very much try to shoulder her pain on her own. I modeled Sugar to be a lot like me - I tend to shut myself out from everyone, mostly because of trust issues. I would imagine because of how emotionally detached Sugar's parents are towards her, it's second nature to not let anyone in.

Being with Joel is definitely something new and uncharted. She's not used to people who actually want to stay and help her through her pain, so she will push him away, and like you said, he will be hurt about it, mostly because his relationship with his family has always been nurturing and warm - I imagine there's little to no secrets between them (Tommy & Sarah - Ellie, is a bit like Sugar).

I think adopting Ellie trained Joel a bit to be patient when it comes to comforting the people he cares about, so I imagine how he would help Sugar by giving her space and reminding her that he's right there if she needs him, if she needs a hug, or a talk, or even to 'take her mind off of things'. He would instinctively have her favorite snacks and meals ready if she gets hungry and even serve them to her from the comfort of her bed if she can't find the strength to go outside on her own. He won't push or give her tough love but will try to understand her without inserting his ego into the situation. He would just be present, and patient - the more times that he shows up for Sugar and her hard times, the more she will find herself opening up, and I think the knowledge of Joel waiting for her for 10 years certainly helps his case!

I'm giving you a big hug, Nonnie! I hope this helps!