ladyanaschmidt

[ladyanaschmidt]

Sicilian Lemon - Clay Beresford +18 IcePlay

I hope you like it, English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

The bar was practically deserted that Tuesday night. The rain had awakened his senses in the face of The Crown's expensive menu, a luxurious night befitting Manhattan, its shiny skyscrapers reflecting their shine from the drops on the glass ceiling, like small diamonds. "I'll have a side of Calamari, and a Martini." As soon as the waiter leaves the table, the dark overcoat is closed, his nails clink on the table, in the same symphony of the blues played in the background by a young man. The afro of his hair is similar to his own, like a lion's mane, the shine of his sweaty skin like a varnish on mahogany wood. Damn, the damn white tank top and leather jacket suited him very well. Looking away again to the window, crossing his legs, he felt the rain intensify, inside and outside the bar. Looking at his Cartier watch, he saw that Clayton was fucking late. The Polaroid camera attached to her neck was immediately brought to her eyes, the clicking gears and the sound of the photograph perfectly capturing the immensity of New York seen from above. Holding the photograph between her fingers, the smell of ink invaded her nostrils, at the same time that her order had arrived. Removing her things from the table, she set the photograph aside, observing the cooked squid and rustic cockroaches, the low, yellowish light shining the Tiffany ring on her right finger. Dating Clayton Beresford seemed like something she would only imagine in her erotic novels, but the silver and diamonds on her ring finger didn't lie about the thousands of dollars it was worth. And neither did the man who placed the jewel on her hand. He not only hired her as a professional photographer for his company, but he also nailed the expensive Baccarat scent to her pulse when he called her to his bed for the first time.

— Eating without me, princess? — Clay's velvety voice invaded your senses, looking up and your gaze met the blue of the most powerful man in New York. — I'm sorry for leaving you… — He walks around the table, his index finger rising from the tip of your right finger, then over your elbow, shoulders and finally chin, raising his gaze even higher to him. — Waiting. He lets go of your face, purposefully scraping his nail on your jaw, testing your reaction. Sitting down in front of you, he removes the scarf, playing with the fabric in his hands, rolling and unrolling it in the palms of his hands. You also bring the squid to your mouth, looking into his eyes as he speaks to a waiter. However, instead of biting into the seafood, you place your tongue inside the circumference of the food, making a circular motion to slurp the sauce. He bites his lip hard, pulling the man's arm and stuffing some bills into his pocket, which the man immediately smiles and bows. She looks back at you, who swallows the food, also teasing him. “Aren’t you going to eat?” You asked, pointing to the almost empty plate. Your metaphor hovers in the air, and Clay stretches his foot towards you, his Oxford shoe scraping against your expensive pantyhose, caressing it. You melt into your chair, relaxing your back, while your left hand is held by his hand, his ring and index fingers fingering your palm, calling, asking. Until he finally answers: “Expensive dishes are eaten in the presidential suite.” Fuck, you could have come just with that sentence, as he brings his Negroni to his lips, his foot hooks on your calf, locking your body. The red liquid fell from the corner of his mouth, staining his jaw, he cleans the red trail with his tongue, spreading it over his white teeth. At the same time you squeeze his hand tightly, he finally laughs mockingly. “I guess we can skip to dessert, right?” You don't know how you got out of that table, you don't know how you got to the rooftop, the place full of yellow lights, drinks and food. The fireplace rising like the excitement that grew inside you. When the door closes, he goes to the fireplace, arranging two shallow glasses of drinks, and cut Sicilian lemons, the bucket full of ice, you remove your coat, shirt, pants, if you could you would tear off your skin so he could touch your veins directly with his fingers, bursting veins and arteries. When he turns around, his gaze was almost adoring, as he unbuttoned the buttons of your shirt, tilting his head to the side, calling you. When he is only in his pants, you approach, your fingers exploring his body, tracing the cut on his toned chest, taking another step, you glued your mouths. He tasted like Negroni, seafood, salt, and, most of all, the flavor of fire. He pushes your body back, just to have the pleasure of taking you in his arms, because he knows you are too weak to stand. His tongue swirls in your mouth, turning your face with his head, while his arms hold your band with a baby, placing you on the counter above the fireplace, on a blanket, right next to the condiments he left there. He gently places your feet locked on his back, the heat of the fire scraping your panties. Scaring you. You bring your hands to the back of his neck, trying to pull his face away from yours. "The fire… you're going to burn us…" He pulls away obediently, but smiles playfully. Getting closer to your ear, removing your bra: "It won't be the fire that will burn you, my princess." He turns his attention to your neck, biting your skin lightly, your hands go to his strands, messing up his silky blond locks, scratching your scalp when he bites your skin, eliciting a louder moan. "Are you okay, princess?" — He stops, resting both his hands on your hip bones, looking worriedly into your eyes. You roll your eyes and beg: — Please, suck me, Clay.

Something breaks inside him, his gaze becomes volatile, he pulls your panties and socks down your legs, letting the heat of the fire touch your feet. He stands up, picking up several pieces of flaky ice, tracing your neck with his mouth and the ice between his teeth. The contrast makes you gasp, your nails scratching his back, the ice melting on your warm skin, at the same time as the flow of your waters begins to wet his fingers as they explore you slowly. Opening your big lips, making sure to make himself heard and listen to your waves. He strums her with the strings of a guitar, extracting the most beautiful sounds from her, until Clay silences her with his lips on yours, you tremble with your mouth frozen due to the cold of the ice cubes. In a moment the blue of his orbs open and he pulls away slightly: "I want to try something, do you think you can handle the ice?" — Your hand stills, your two fingers inside you stop moving inside you, but he curls his digits, touching something inside you that makes you scream. — You certainly melt the ice of any glacier. He kisses you again hungrily, his breath smelling like you. His ambiguous sentence makes you want to cry, after all you didn't know who had melted whose barriers. But you knew that Clay Beresford was yours, completely and entirely yours. Just as you were his, completely and entirely too. He takes a step back, letting go of your face, supporting you better on the fireplace, you can see his chest covered in sweat, as if he was melting, the fire was literally and figuratively between you, and he loved to burn himself. His skillful hand squeezes the Sicilian lemon into the shaker, adding cachaça, lemon slices, honey, and finally closing it and shaking it with measured force, you tremble in your place, your hawk eyes hunting him, analyzing his black pants, marked by your excitement. When he finished, he poured its contents into a Martini glass, placing a dehydrated lemon slice on top. Lifting the drink to his full lips, sipping it, then smiling, he looked into your eyes over the crystal: — It's missing ice… — He leaves the glass on the floor, and approaches again, picking up the bucket of ice, holding some in his hand. — How fast can I make you cum with my mouth?

At that moment you laugh, finally understanding his goals, determined to embark on his idea, you teased: — The ice can't melt… — She holds his face with the tip of her nails, scratching his cheek affectionately. — Show me what you're capable of, that mouth does more than just… — She lowers his head down your torso, watching him put 3 ice cubes in his mouth. — Business. When his mouth touches your pussy, a volcano rises in your senses, and screams erupt. He's not calm, he's not delicate like Clay usually is. And he knows it. His tongue moves, spinning the ice at your entrance, while his nose presses your clitoris hard, almost choking on the ice, but he persists, saliva and water mixing with your juices. His hands, once gentle in caressing you, now grip your thighs fiercely. Keeping you still. When you try to lift yourself towards his lips, he holds you with his arms, intertwining his fingers over the hair on your skin, at the same time pulling you lower, the heat of the fire embracing your perineum.

The room echoed with the moans, the calls. The prayers. The musk of her flavor tempering the frozen stones that were still intact in Clay's mouth. Her nails grip his hair tightly, then her palms caress his abused scalp in a silent apology. He brings his mouth to the glass with the Sicilian lemon caipirinha, his favorite, and he sips the drink in a short gulp, approaching and kissing his hair as he holds the crystal glass.

— Sicilian lemon is undoubtedly a wonderful ingredient… — He licks its residue from your hair and skin, savoring your cum. — But you are the most addictive drink in the world… — He goes between your breasts, resting his hand on your cheek, in complete contrast to the fury he felt sucking you off a few minutes ago. — I'm drunk because of you, damn it. He drinks more of the drink, offering it to you, who shakes her head, scraping her foot against his pants, feeling your excitement. And your laugh rises, as you pick up the phone forgotten by your side. You pull his body towards you, feeling him play with your nipples, laying your head on his sternum. When you dial a number, your hand goes to the back of his neck, keeping him still. — I want the ingredients to make the Spanish drink in suite 501. — He makes a move to get up, but continues kissing your pink bud. — Except for the condensed milk, I… — You look down, and Clay returns your cheeky look, his foot pinching your member, making you bite your tongue and moan. — I already have what I need. — He stands up, holding your face. Glazed like a dog on hunting day. — Thank you. When the call ends, he pulls you into another kiss, the taste of lemon explodes in your mouth, as well as the undeniable taste of Clay. — Are you going to try all the drinks? — He asks, biting your ear slowly, and pulling you to the floor. Holding your body close to his own. — Wait for the sun to come up so you can go… please. — He begs with doe eyes, big and loving. And you simply smile as you say: — I have a tolerance for alcohol, and you Clay? — He smiles cynically, approaching you again. — I have all night.

Lady Ana Schmidt

[ladyanaschmidt]

Wishes Collection

I'm writing some fanfics inspired by works of Brazilian popular music, but especially by a rapper called “Baco Exu do Blues” who works with erotic themes. And each melody I chose a Hayden character, I believe it will be fun. I will also include the music for anyone who wants to listen while reading, even if it is in Brazilian Portuguese, there will be links to the translation. If you have any ideas or requests, I can even make the cover for this edition too, my request box is open.

The first one that will be released on 10/01 is Clay Beresford! Our beloved and hot billionaire in a cold game.

Soon after will be our beloved William, on a slightly different hunt… Wait for the next stories!

[ladyanaschmidt]

Reblog if you're okay with receiving asks for backstory info on any/all of your fics.

If not all, specify which ones in the tags.

[ladyanaschmidt]

Thank you very much for tagging me my dear countrywoman!

🎶 Last Song: Te Amo 'Disgraça - Baco Exu do Blues.

🎨 Fav Color: I'm in love with blue, yellow and black, a bit of VanGogh influence in that.

📺Currentily Watching: Heartland.

🎬 Last Movie: Call Me by Your Name.

🍫Spicy/Sweet/Savory: Sweet.

💛 Relationship Status: Single

💘 Current Obsessions: Heartland, Hayden (Always), African literature.

📲 Last Thing I Googled: Passage to the National Sanctuary of Aparecida

@dazednstars141 @anisluvrgirl

nine people i want to get to know better

very late because my ass is just distracted, but i was tagged by @nigesakis! thank you so so much! <3

LAST SONG? - your body, my temple by will wood.

FAVORITE COLOR? - red. but i also like black, gold and all the swampy greens.

CURRENTLY WATCHING? - still finishing up trust fx, and slowly going through one (or two) rewatches of the terror (amc). have been slowing down because i don't have the head for it or the time, sadly, i've been on the move this month, but when i'll settle down a bit i can't wait to go back to everything.

LAST MOVIE? - rewatched il gattopardo by visconti because it was on tv and i've been tempted to do so for weeks before that.

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY? - savory, mostly. but i don't mind sweet unless it's too much, and i can handle some spicy until it triggers a rosacea flare up.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS? - blessed to have the most wonderful, understanding, smart, handsome, interesting and devoted human being as a partner. he's my soulmate, i know it.

CURRENT OBSESSIONS? - iwtv, of course. also i specifically am very obsessed with the lemon biscuits i've been eating since i returned from home.

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED? - details on how to clean plastic from limescale lol. wanted to make sure whatever i use won't ruin it.

tagging more than 9 people, ofc (no pressure, and sorry if you've already done this, i honestly haven't been keeping track since i'm not on tumblr much lately):

@apocoeurlypse @goodsirbeasts @georges-chambers @abrahamvanhelsings @gabriestat

@suricatesblog @troiades @wrenling @oulious @endof-vanity

@saintdundy @solittles @chiefsweetner @monstrousdaughter @scribl1ta

@mothofmay @homosneksual @holy-moth @evilios @mcfallen-god

@most-sane-hoyo-player @bpdlestatdelioncourt @attacus-atlas-the-moth

[ladyanaschmidt]

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

[ladyanaschmidt]

⚽🥋🛹🤸 We are the country of football, judo, skateboarding, gymnastics, we are the country of sports with Latin blood. And I can say the Show must go on, and we will be happy. 🌴🌺🐦

Translation: The Show Must Go On - Arlindo Cruz:

"But we will find the tone A chord with a beautiful sound And make it good Once again, our singing And we will be happy Look at us again in the air The show must go on

We will go to Paris Rock at Olimpia The show must go on

Look at the people asking for bis Tickets will sell out The show must go on"

Credits at the End of the Video

[ladyanaschmidt]

🍁 You flee with Lorenzo from Florence 🍁

🍁 Words: 1k

⚠️ Notices: The Zoroastrian religion was mentioned as a curiosity and is far from Italy. 🍁 English is not my first language, please forgive any mistakes. Enjoy, comment, and like! 🍁

You were still asleep on his chest when Lorenzo woke up in the middle of the night. They were heading away from the city, Lorenzo was taking care of taking you away from the conflict and escaping with you. He was distressed, but the sight of the tired woman calmed his heart. Adjusting her body better under the heavy blankets on the wood, she brought her right hand to the blonde bangs, lightly pressed against the other's forehead, a remnant of the pleasant night they shared. However, when he touches someone else's forehead, he feels its feverish temperature. Worried, he tries to wake him up with a warm seal on his lips, whispering his name to wake him up. Looking at the brown orbs watching him lightly kissing the pink lips, Lorenzo shows his concern:

Is everything okay, my love? - he asked. Resting his nose on the young woman's forehead, feeling the warmer skin, circling the female torso with his arms. The hairs on his bare skin stood on end with the cold. Attracting Lorenzo's attention, who felt her tremble in his embrace. - You were so tired that you fell asleep in my arms… - she said. Smoothing your back with your fingers. Female hands resting on his chest, drawing small circles with her fingertips, trying to distract herself from the subject that had been on her mind for weeks. - What is the problem? I hurt you and you don't want to tell me? - His eyes expressing fear as he analyzed the entire slender silhouette in front of him. She slightly turns her face towards you, saying furiously:

No, it's nothing like that. - You get up carefully, sitting with your back to the man, covering your breasts with the blanket, planning your next words. - I have important news to tell you, but I'm distressed. - Lamberti snuggles onto her back, taking due care not to press his weight on her, resting his manly chin on her shoulder, planting his feet on the wood to stabilize his body, feeling the slight trembling of the carriage they paid for to escape.

Know that I will be with you even in hell, I will take care of you as long as I am alive. - Her hands seek Lorenzo's, letting the blanket reveal her nakedness and that of her lover, finding her fingers and intertwining them over firm feminine thighs. - You can tell me anything you want, please.

You'll have to be twice as careful from now on. - Interrogative, Lorenzo frowns, lightly laying her body on his arm. To look into your crying eyes. - I'm pregnant, Lorenzo. - the words are whispered, as if proclaiming such happiness in such dark times were a crime. Lamberti takes a few seconds to process the information, and when he does, genuine tears of happiness adorn the brunette's face, sobs burst from his throat, his arms joyfully squeeze the body connected to his, the salty drops also flood the feminine eyes. Directing her partner's right hand to her belly, so that she could also feel the pulse of life that came from her.

I am the happiest man in the world… - He affectionately moved his palm over the heated and slightly swollen skin, highlighting the slight human presence in the slender body. His tears were dried by his wife's hands. - I swear to you, I will move heaven and earth to protect you both. - He turned to her, kissing her forehead for a long time, feeling her fever go down slightly. Laying her back again on the soft pillows of the carriage, he sought out her full lips. Starting a slow kiss, which transformed the entire atmosphere that surrounded them, making the environment unique and special. His hands supported the weight at the side of the childish body, never putting pressure on his beloved's belly area, their tongues moving unhurriedly, with delight and a salty taste due to the tears of happiness on both their faces. - I don't want to leave you to seek justice…

You know it's the right thing to do, but I want to ask you something. - he said firmly.

Whatever you want, I would do anything for you. - he stated with conviction. Waiting for his order, she however pointed to a box that was near the unlit lamp next to the bed, in a silent request for Lorenzo to take it for himself. When he opened it, after moving her eyes, he faced a steel pendant. - What is this?

This is the Faravahar, the most powerful symbol of my creed. - He handed the piece into her hands, holding her waist to sit behind him, placing her long hair on the side of his shoulder. Breathing in the wonderful scent of silky strands. - The man in the center is the Sage, the two wings represent good thoughts and actions. However, the lower tail tells about the evils that are the cause of human misery, so they point downwards. - Lorenzo listened to everything with complete attention, fascinated by her knowledge of the people. - The ring represents the universe, the cycle of life, and man's alliance with God. And finally, the curves below are the good and bad forces within every man. - She sighed, pressing the object against her bare chest, saying a brief prayer and watching the fire to complete the request. - I want you to keep it.

I can't accept this gift, it's too much for me, my princess. - He denied it, he didn't feel worthy of taking something so important to her with him. - Stay with him to protect him, please.

I ask in the name of our son. - You begged. The eyes become transparent with tears. - When you give me this pendant back, it will be to bless our son at the end of all this. Promise me you'll fight to come back to us. - She placed the pendant on the other's neck, kissing the flesh of his collarbone, wetting the skin with worried tears. - I want a world far from Florence to raise our son, pray before the fire for wisdom and strength for me and our heir. - She held his face, looking into his cerulean eyes, which were crying with concern. He held the pendant in his hand, and promised, with a determined voice, before kissing her one last time:

I swear on my son's life that I will do everything so that he grows up in a world of peace alongside us, it's a promise.

[ladyanaschmidt]

🍂 Welcome to my corner on Tumblr! 🍁

Hello! I'm Ana Schmidt, a Brazilian with German descent who finds joy in the little things in life. At 23 years old, I am a librarian and teacher, passionate about books, writing, and the comfort of a good cup of coffee.

📚 About Me:

📖 Avid Reader: From classic romances to contemporary mysteries, I always have a book in hand.

✍️ Writer: I love turning thoughts and feelings into words, whether in journals, blogs, or letters.

🍳 Culinary Enthusiast: Cooking is my therapy, especially when it comes to German recipes that connect me to my roots.

🐾 Animal Lover: I have a special fondness for dogs and cats, who always bring a smile to my face.

🐴 Equestrian Sports: I practice equestrian sports, where I find a unique sense of freedom and connection with nature.

☕ Coffee Lover: A good cup of coffee is my constant companion, whether on cool autumn mornings or rainy afternoons.

🍁 For Romantic Readers:

In this space, you'll find stories of Hayden Christensen's characters, heartwarming tales, expressions of my Brazilian culture, and my love for writing and this wonderful man. All of this is to bring joy to my readers and make them feel loved.

Let's Connect! Feel free to send me a message or follow me!

Lady Ana Schmidt

[ladyanaschmidt]

What if Anakin proposed to Obi-Wan? 💍🌚

It’s my first attempt at something like this, but I’ve had so much fun doing it!

Also, let’s just pretend this is how things really went, okay? Our tragic boys deserve this💕

Oh btw… After the kiss, Obi eventually gives in of course, Anakin doesn’t turn, and everyone (but Palpacreep) lives happily ever after. 🥰