#white beard my beloved

[alittlepawblog]

Hadley Fraser as Polixenes, 2015, need help of hair aging make up for his "white" beard

Hadley Fraser as Mayer Lehman, 2023, hair aging naturally

[mezzmerizd]

Hermitcraft S8 Horse AU!! :3

tangorse my beloved istg,,, the AU doesn't have an actual name (yet?? idk) BUT YIPPIEEEE!!! smth silly is hidden under the cut btw hehehe

Is it reaaaallly your favorite character if you haven't turned them into a horse?? I say no, also Adequate needed a friend so I'm here to provide!! :3

i fucked around with lighting and layers too much an suddenly they were on acid,,, tbf it looks rlly cool tho sooooo :3

[dirichletttt]

I genuinely feel like math is like the closest thing we have to actual irl wizardry. It's an ancient field of study going back to the birth of civilization, and was actively studied by almost every civilization. It's an incredibly accurate tool for analyzing and predicting phenomena from the movement of galaxy clusters to the vibrations of quarks. But even beyond application, pure math is an impossibly deep field in and of itself, studied and passed down by hundreds of generations prior. You can even trace the connection of each mathematician to the ancients via the Mathematics Genealogy Project.

And we manipulate it with pen and paper. We make our own definitions, and follow their logical conclusions. There is no experimental evidence to adhere to. Nothing is handed down on high; you can really say anything that you want, it's just up to others to believe you. The notion that mathematics is just a set of rules to memorize is one of the worst things to come out of modern general education.

My point being, tell me that this isn't just the modern day version of a magical incantation:

[bojangos]

the real tragedy of jaster dying at Korda IV is that we don’t get oldman silver fox jaster. like yeah i draw him with a little gray but we could have more 

i love old mandos. it’s like a dog going white in the muzzle. absolutely adorable

[tarjapearce]

Old Friend

Summary: You meet an old friend in your shopping trip with the family.

Nothing but a slice of life, fluff, bit of angst and a jealous Miguel ~

Whenever it was restock day, Costco or Walmart would be the main places to go.

You'd get the list, Miguel would secure Rosie to his chest, as Benjamin would get inside your cart. Gabi would walk alongside you or her beloved Papa, pushing his cart.

Each would take separate ways, you'd get the meats and veggies, as Miguel would get the rest, powder detergent, cleansing products, and snacks.

"Mama, can I have these?" Benjamin swayed his feet pointing at the  colorful packaging of dinosaur shaped nuggets.

"Course you can, mi niño. Which one you want?"

"I tried the red one last time, I'll get the purple"

Benji's boyish voice echoed around you as you stopped on the frozen meals section.

"Alright, purple it is."

You picked the purple package, a triceratops and a T-Rex on the cover. Then, filled the cart with different sort of meats, Miguel's favorite cuts, hams and of course, lots of canned jalapeños. Orange, pineapple, and cranberry juice, a couple of sodas and finally you got to go to the cereal and coffee aisle.

Miguel was running out of coffee in his office, and back at home you only had a couple of packages. It reminded you the time Miguel nearly had an anxiety attack when he found out he had ran out of the black liquid gold, even in his secret stash.

For some reason the brand he always bought was put on the top shelves. With a huff you looked around to see if there was any ladder, but upon finding none, You stepped on the bottom shelf, trying to get the six pack in the edge, but obviously, you couldn't reach it.

Benjamin giggled when you missed, as revenge you smothered his face in kisses, earning you a loud and bubbling squeal.

"Here, let me." A deep voice rumbled behind you. Your eyes widened at the all too familiar face before you. Reaching effortlessly for the coffee packaging.

"Richard" you mumbled while taking the package, to then put it on the cart.

"Hey" His hand waved softly. Clad in a hoodie, bermudas and sneakers. A little gold band hugging his ring finger. Dull, as his overall aura.

Despite the years coming through, he hadn't lost his kind green eyes. Some wrinkles adorned his matured face. Ricky was only two years older than you, and still had some white hairs poking out here and there.

He sported a short and well trimmed beard, hair parted and neatly arranged to a side. His eyes darted to the boy that undoubtedly resembled alot like you, except for his curious big and round red-ish eyes.

"Whose this little champ?" The smile on his face was coy, but genuine.

"It's my boy, Benjamin."

A proud beam stretched on your face as your hand caressed Benjamin's head, some of his curls trapping your fingers.

"Nice to meet you, champ." Ricky stretched his hands towards him and Benjamin shook it, a tad nervous.

"He definitely has your curls."

You smiled, eyes diverting behind him, ready to meet his partner but, there was none, just his half cart full of car appliances, some diary products and snacks.

"My goodness, you have a beard now."

Ricky chuckled and scratched it. He was a handsome man, undoubtedly. Good and well worked physique. Lean muscles, athletic and healthy looking. Green eyes a shade darker than green apples, pretty lips you liked biting and a healthy tan on his skin, despite him being a pale guy. A couple of freckles adorned his nose.

"And you've got a kid now." there was a bit of disbelief in his tone.

"Three actually. Funny how we ended up doing the things we always said we wouldn't do right away."

Richard gave a soft laugh.

"At least we look good. And I'm sure you're a great mom. How long has it been?"

"I don't know, I suck at math. But I do know it's more than ten years." You pushed the cart to get the cereals and naturally he helped you to get them. Eyes looking for Miguel in every chance you had.

"How have you been?" He tensed a bit at the question, not expecting your openness to talking so casually, specially when your finger shone with a golden band. He graduated college and never saw you again, until now. Gentle and caring as always. You hadn't changed, and he was glad.

"As usual. Existing, trying to keep myself afloat after, uh... my divorce." His mouth pressed in a tight line, green eyes looked away for a second, unable to meet your stare. Ashamed.

Your eyes blinked at his reply. Clearly surprised by such thing. Face falling with worry. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Richard shook his head, and gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Things happen. It's one of those situations that get your eyes open for good." Ricky rubbed his neck awkwardly and you offered a little reassure with a hand on his shoulder, patting it softly.

"Hey, you've got this. I know it's been a while, but I'm sure your problem solving skills are still top notch."

Hw chuckled, almost sympathetic at himself, "I don't even know anymore, if I'm honest. But if you say so."

The voices in the aisles kept indistinct, each in their own world, mingling with the upbeat background music.

"Also... I'm sorry." His eyes remained on yours. Something he'd always do when speaking truthfully.

Your brow quirked, "Whatever for?"

Ricky's hands squeezed the insides of his pockets as he spoke.

"For breaking up with you. Specially like that. It was a d-" He caught his tongue before continuing with the french before Benjamin, "It was wrong of me."

You could only stare at him, and he recoiled further in his spot, shoulders hunched, eyes on the floor.

"If something's worth saying, I... divorced cause my mom also ruined it for me."

You frowned, confused and he shook his head.

"So I cut ties, went to therapy and yeah." He reached out for a three pack of granola for himself, and another for you after you pointed at the brand.

"I'm sorry, I'm kind of confused as to why would you think I'd be happy to know something awful happened to you, Richard?"

Richard's brow puckered. You really hadn't changed at all. Even after he dumped you a few days before Christmas eve.

"I... don't know? Thought you'd hold a grudge for what I did."

"A grudge?" You tittered and this threw him off guard, "Not to sound mean or anything, but I didn't even remember what had happened until now. You know I'm forgetful."

You both chuckled as he nodded.

"Yeah, kinda wondered if you'd lose your head too if it wasn't attached to your body."

You gasped while mocking offense, "That was rude."

You grabbed a couple of cereal boxes Benjamin pointed at.

"But true. In all seriousness, I'm glad that at least something great came after me. Is he a good man?, wait..." He shook his head softly, "Stupid question Of course he is, you married him."

You beamed and this made his chest swell in a mix of happiness and pride. You deserved it after all he also put you through.

"You'll find someone, I know so." It always made him wondered why he was stupid like that to allow his mother come in between.

"I'll give myself a couple of years to heal first. Wanna make sure I don't repeat things over."

It was your turn to get that pride sensation in your chest. Knowing he was making a good progress out of his mother's shadow also made you happy. You out of everyone knew how hard it was like.

"Hope they're ready to listen country music nonstop in your car." He rolled his eyes.

"I know you hated the genre, that's why I always played them"

Your lips pursed with faked anger as he tittered, however, Ricky cleared his throat off the laughing upon watching a behemoth of a man, approaching from behind. Red eyes set on him. A shudder crawled on his skin as he gulped. The baby on his chest did little to appease the intimidating aura around him.

"Mama!" Gabi came to you with an excited face as she showed you her new acquisition. A purple and glittery cover for her phone.

"Qué lindo! Do they have it in blue too?" (How cute!)

"Nah, it was the last one, Papa said this would match with my room too."

Said Papa hugged you from behind, and kissed your temple, red eyes never left him. Ricky gave Miguel a polite smile as he backed away a few steps. Miguel's strong features only turned sharper. It would be a lie to say if Ricky wasn't surprised and intimidated.

Surprised cause you hugged Miguel's narrow waist, a pleased and proud purr emanated from his chest. Loud enough for only you to hear it.

The man before him screamed danger a mile ago. But also, explained lots of things. Like Benjamin's eyes.

"Richard, this is my husband. Miguel O'Hara."

Ricky hesitated for a second, but stretched his hands towards him, big tan hands easily enveloped his in a firm shake.

"Nice to meet you." His nervous smile was like fuel to your husband's ego.

Miguel acknowledged him with a brief nod, eyes not tearing away from him. A quiet She's mine in his eyes.

"Richard and I used to go at the same college. Oh! This is my eldest daughter, Gabriella. And my youngest baby, Rosie."

Gabi smiled politely while holding onto Miguel's hips.

"You have a beautiful family." His green eyes stared at an ever curious Rosie that gazed back at him. Miguel's shoulder's tensed when Rosie gave Ricky a smile.

"Thanks, You'll be fine though. Things take time, but, It all comes together somehow. Just be patient. I'm glad you're doing good on your own." Again, you patted his shoulder, he just gave you a small but genuine smile. Miguel's guts churned as his jaw clenched.

Ricky left after saying his goodbyes, not wanting to impose his presence any further.

"Gabibi, mi amor, can you get the food cart to the line, please?"

"Okay. Don't take too long, please?"

Gabriella took the cart as Benjamin showed her his nuggets, leaving you and Miguel with Rosie alone.

"Alright, interrogation can start now." You chuckled and Miguel pulled you by your waist towards him, ebbing you to walk a few steps before giving a firm slap on your rear.

"Miguel!" you hushed, flustered while looking around to see of there were people and he smirked.

"Wanted to do that before that guy, but that wouldn't be too polite of me, wouldn't it?"

You kissed his cheek, but he quickly corrected the place and pecked your lips.

"That's better. Who was he anyway?"

"My ex from college."

He just hummed and it was your turn to return the squeeze, he chuckled, "Relax. He just got divorced and obviously not having a good time."

"Too bad." He shrugged, a bit nonchalant and you deadpanned.

"Don't be mean. You were scaring him on purpose."

"Obvio. Still, forgot to thank him." (Obviously)

You chuckled as you approached to the line, Gabi waved at you both.

"Thank him?"

"Well, he let you go, and I wouldn't have met you in the first place. So thanks to that."

"Well, he's there on the other line, go tell him."

You teased, but to your surprise Miguel stepped away from the beeline and was walking towards Richard.

"W-Wait! Miguel!" You had skip a few steps to catch him and pull him back to spot, he smirked while pulling you tighter towards him.

"Don't tempt me, mi reina."

"God, I swear. You're-"

"Your husband, mi amor." He smirked, satisfied at his own title in your life.

"A jealous one."

He leaned to your ear and whispered, "Espérate que lleguemos a casa. No te la vas a acabar conmigo, mi reina." (Wait till we get home. You'll see what's up.)

Gabriella rolled her eyes at the flirty atmosphere around you and covered Benjamin's eyes.

"You're too young to see that."

[strawhbrrries]

Cowgirl

pairing: dbf!southern!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: a trip to the store with your dad’s best friend ends in a lack of a swimsuit and the feeling of his beard scratching you forever engraved in your mind.

warnings: age gap (reader is 22, frank is 52), use of pet names, dirty dirty thoughts!!!, mention of a divorced dad?, fingering, no real sex, bearded frank <3, no mentions of y/n, no descriptions of reader, not proofread

word count: 2711 words

author’s note: the line “ride cowgirl” in pyramid by frank ocean inspired this whole fic, which i kinda wanna make into multiple fics?? a story if you will?? anyway, i think this is a huge step up from my last writing piece so please enjoy :)

read the sequel ride, cowgirl !

“I'm telling you to loosen up my buttons, babe.” You sang along to the song blaring from your dad’s speaker, you hijacked it when he went inside to get more beer for him and his friends, swinging your hips and slowly spinning in a circle. Your music was way better than his divorced dad rock music, which you secretly enjoyed, and if you were going to enjoy the get together he was throwing you were absolutely going to play your own music. 

“But you keep fronting.” Tiffany, your long time best friend, sang back into the imaginary microphone in her hand as she pranced around you in a circle. The two of you putting on a performance to the imaginary crowd in your backyard, or so you thought. Twenty feet away, sitting in perfect position across the fire to watch you swing your hips around, was your dad’s best friend Frank.

Frank was only half listening to the conversation between the men around him, he was more focused on the way you danced and how it was making him rethink every decision he ever made and was about to make, his knuckles going white from the grip he had on the bottle in his hand. Sure, he’d always known you were a gorgeous girl but something about tonight was different. The fire barely illuminating your skin softly had him wanting to slide behind you as your hips moved in time with the song, his lips dragging across the skin of your neck before moving to your ear where he whispered promises of what he’d do to you later. He took a sip of the lukewarm beer, watching you for a second more before turning back to whatever bullshit conversation that was going on. It paled in comparison to you. Currently, everything did. 

The summers in Texas were your favorite, the air was never too humid and warmed you up when the wind came through at night, the lightning bugs never failed to show up every night and lit up the trees if you paid enough attention. Truthfully you were biased, but the thing that made them truly the best was having no true responsibilities again and you would always enjoy that, especially when your beloved dad bought your alcohol for three months. One of your favorite perks was the swimming pool, you were either swimming with a few of your friends or tanning on the side but you were almost always found by it. The swimsuits you typically donned weren’t the slightest bit modest, and now wasn’t any different. You were barely covered in a green bikini, the top consisting of two triangles and a string, and the bottoms high cut and covered with a mesh skirt. 

“Castle, how’s work been man? Ain’t heard much bout it ‘n normally ya don’t shut up bout it.” Goddamnit is all Frank thought as your dad dragged him back into the conversation, ruining the imagery in his head. If looks could kill, the one he shot your dad would’ve murdered him beyond recognition. “‘s alright, busy. Always picks up in the summertime. Ready to have some more downtime, spend it with family.” More like with your daughter. 

“I hear ya. Promise ol’ girl over there we’d do some family shit this summer, if business keeps the way it is I ain’t too sure how well I can keep that promise.” Your dad responded, pointing you out to the guys as if Frank hadn’t been oogling you all night. You and Tiff had stopped dancing to the music and instead opted to sitting with your legs in the pool, gossiping about town drama and Tiff’s newest boy of the week. 

“Understandable, if ya’ll need anything just holler at me.” Frank responded, ready for the conversation to be done, ready to continue watching you like a creep from afar. He’d be a creep if it meant staring at you all night, he’d be a creep if it meant a chance to feel your hair wrapped around his hand while he-

“Dad, Tiff and I are going to get snacks from the gas station!” You called out happily, ripping Frank out of his delusion with the angelic smile of yours, walking over to the group of men surrounding the fire. 

“C’mere, I’ll give you my card so you can get some more drinks.” You happily grabbed the card from your dad, bending over to give him a small hug. Frank was no better than the next man, he scratched at his scruff as he admired the way the green of your bikini complimented the tan skin threatening to spill from the lack of support. 

“Frank, can you drive us? It’s dark and neither of us wanna drive.” It was like the perfect opportunity fell right into his lap and he’d be damned if he wasn’t taking it. The smile you were flashing him made him want to get down on his knees and beg, a god he wasn’t sure existed for, forgiveness for what he was about to do. 

“Course darlin’, let me get my wallet.” He looked at your dad who seemed to have no qualms about the situation before getting out of the chair, placing his mostly empty bottle of now warm beer on the ground and following you into the house. 

“I’m gonna go put a shirt on, give me a second.” Up until tonight, much like Frank with you, you hadn’t noticed how attractive he was. Older men had always excited you but this was different. Frank was big, strong, rough around the edges but had that southern hospitality you loved. You couldn’t help but think about how his scruff would feel rubbing against your skin, would it leave redness in its wake? would it help spur your orgasm as he fucked you with his fingers? 

You picked up some oversized t shirt that probably once belonged to your dad and put it on, shaking your head as if it would get rid of the thoughts. 

“Hey, I’m gonna head out. Horrible timing I know! But y’know, boy of the week is calling.” Tiff spoke, her expression clearly apologetic, giving you a hug and promising to make plans for later this week before grabbing her things and leaving.

“So for taking so long, got caught up in my thoughts.” Of you. You smiled softly, suddenly aware of how the sun had brought out freckles you didn’t know he had and how muscular he truly was.

“‘S alright, lets get goin’ ‘for your dad starts wonderin’.” He matched your smile, placing his hand on the small of your back as the two of you walked out of the house and to his truck. You were painfully aware of how big his hands felt, triggering your mind to think about his fingers. You rubbed your thighs together to relieve some of the tension aching at your core, it felt so taboo to lust after a man your dad’s age. Not just his age! His own best friend! 

The trip to the gas station was uneventful, unfortunately, the two of you exchanged conversation like the tension wasn’t thick enough to cut. Like Frank’s jeans were getting uncomfortably tight and your bikini bottoms uncomfortably wet. Like neither of you wanted to jump the bones of the other person.

“Hey, Frank?” You asked softly, trying to gain the courage to ask the question you wanted the answer to.

“Darlin’?” He put the car in park, looking over at you expecting you to call him every disgusting name under the sun for his thoughts about you tonight.

“Do you, uhm…”

“I’m not a mind reader, baby.” At first you thought you imagined the word, that he didn’t actually say it but it was your imagination fueling the growing fire you had for Frank Castle. But he did say it, and he did it on purpose. Testing the waters, seeing how far he could go without making you uncomfortable. 

“Have you ever been with someone younger?” Not the fucking question, idiot. You scolded yourself, you didn’t want to know the answer to this. What if his answer was yes and you were imagining his interest in you, that you weren’t special. 

“No, I uh haven’t. Not yet, anyway.” There he went again, saying things that made you think you were imagining it. Maybe you’d wake up any minute and none of it was real. He could see the wheels turning in your head, you were a smart girl and he knew that. 

You, timidly, leaned over the console of his truck and experimentally ran your fingers through his scruff. You’d never been with a man, much less a man with a beard, you’d only been with what your father classified as boys. Frank leaned into your touch, placing his hand on top of yours and dragging it to his lips. Placing kisses on your palm, keeping eye contact with you. You were having trouble breathing, he was going to kill you. The beautiful hunk of a man was going to be the cause of your death, you’d make sure Tiff had it written on your tombstone. “Death by Frank Castle.”

Frank let your hand drop into your lap, threading his own hand through your hair to grab the back of your head and pull you closer to him. He leaned forward to meet you halfway, eyes scanning your face just taking in your beauty. His lips were made to fit yours, you were convinced, moving in motion with yours. His beard scratching your skin deliciously, his fingers wrapping themselves in your hair, his scent. He was everywhere, he consumed you. 

“Need you, Frank please.” You breathed, pleading with him. “Need you so bad, need to feel you, your fingers.” You carried on, your voice sounding like you were on the verge of tears. 

“Baby, not here.” He spoke softly, committing the way you sounded to memory for him to reference later when he was alone, “I’ll get you off though. Make you cum, all over my seat.” 

His words eliciting a whimper, you’d take anything he was willing to give you. It didn’t matter that anyone could see into his truck at any moment, made the situation so much more intense. He tapped your thigh, signaling he wanted you to open your legs. 

Frank let his fingers dance over the exposed skin your lack of pants left, dragging them up your thighs slowly. Painfully slow. He left open mouth kisses down your neck, occasionally biting and soothing the bite with his tongue. What felt like a decade later his middle finger traced your clothed folds, chuckling into your neck at how wet you were. You bucked your hips at the stimulation, earning another chuckle from the man in the driver’s seat, you were dying to receive some more stimulation from him. At this point, you’d sell a kidney and probably your soul to just have a singular finger inside you. You’d probably sell his soul too.

He dipped a finger underneath your swimsuit, groaning at how wet you truly were and that he was the cause of it all. His dreams were, partially, coming true and he needed to thank the heavens and the stars. Your moans and whimpers were music to Frank’s ears and he’d do anything and everything to keep them coming, to keep those angelic noises from leaving your pretty mouth. The truck was silent except for your noises and the squelch of Frank playing with your pussy.

“‘S wet, pretty girl. All for me? Did I do this to you, baby?” He taunted you, sliding his finger through your folds and swirling your clit as he waited for an answer.

“All for you, promise.” You whined, leaning your head against him, sweat beading on your skin as the car started to heat up from the summer air and the actions being performed. 

Your pleas were answered when he finally plunged a finger inside of you, pulling it all the way out and admiring how it glistened in the light provided by the street light in the corner of a parking lot. He did this a few times, thrusting his finger in and pulling it all the way back out before plunging it back inside of you. His lips found your neck again, moving your head back to the original position it was in, kissing every spot of open skin he could reach. As if he read your mind, he inserted another finger alongside the one already inside. The stretch burned in a way that made you feel alive, made you feel on top of the world. All because Frank’s fingers were inside you. God, his fingers were big. So big it made you think about how right your dad had been to call everyone else a boy and not a man. So big all you could do was think about how big his cock must be, if his jeans were any indication you were in for a real treat. Not here though, stupid stupid gas station stupid truck. Your thoughts soon turned to mush.

His fingers curled right against the spongy spot inside of you, hitting it over and over again, he readjusted his hand to put his thumb on your clit.

“C’mon pretty girl, let go for me.” He spoke low, trailing kisses back up your neck and nipping at your earlobe. 

You could feel the warmth growing in your stomach, the knots forming into bigger knots and then even bigger knots. Could feel the heat spreading throughout your body, your orgasm so close you could taste it. It was right there, his fingers hitting all the right spots and his thumb working wonders on your clit, his scruff scratching your skin and his mouth kissing everywhere. He was suffocating you in all the best ways possible. All you could see, hear, smell and taste was Frank fucking Castle.

Stars. Your vision turned to stars as your orgasm washed over you, your body shaking in the passenger seat as he fucked you with his fingers. Those damn fingers. You couldn’t see anything but stars, for all you knew you had gone to heaven and it was thanks to the magical orgasm given to you at the hands of your new god. 

When you came down from your high, Frank was whispering how well you had done and how pretty you were. He was caressing your thigh and placing kisses to your head. 

“Did so good, gonna get me addicted.” He reached behind your seat and handed you a water bottle, opening it and holding the lid so you could drink it.

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him, that killer smile that got him here in the first place. He truly was going to get addicted to you and he had no complaints about it, could die a happy man tonight if fingering you in his passenger seat is all he gets to do to you. His phone ringing in his pocket brought him back to the situation at hand.

Shit. Both of you thought, remembering what you were supposed to be doing and how it was now an entire forty-five minutes later.

“Hey, ah yeah we’re good. Small fender bender, yeah….to make it all worse the gas station was closed when we got here.” Frank spoke to your dad on the phone, coming up with a lie like his life depended on it and he hadn’t just fingered you to the edge of your life. “Should be back soon, don’t worry man. I’m keepin’ her safe, precious cargo.”

You chuckled softly at his sentence, relaxing completely in the seat and taking a few sips of water, thinking about the future of your relationship with him. Or whatever it was, you made out and he had his fingers inside you but that didn’t mean shit. What if he regretted it and now didn’t want anything to do with you, what if he was too worried about his friendship with your dad?

“Quit thinkin’ too much. We’ll figure out whatever this is, all I know for sure is I need to see you again. And you to ride me, like a fuckin’ cowgirl. Ya hear?”

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 19: Sex Toys

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky controls your vibrator while you’re out for dinner.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, use of a vibrator, reader wearing a butt plug, public orgasm, implied anal sex

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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Bucky has loved surprising you with gifts throughout your honeymoon, even though he has already given you the best gift of all when he married you.

First, it was a completely new closet of designer clothes, already tailored to your measurements - you’re still unsure how he managed to get your exact proportions without you knowing.

Then it had been a cabinet full of jewellery fit for a queen. All your favourite gemstones, those that brought out the colour of your eyes and complimented your complexion, in necklaces, bracelets, rings - every type of jewellery you can imagine, even a tiara.

This morning, you woke up to a conspicuously small box beside you in bed. James Barnes never did anything on a small scale, and although you kept reminding him he didn’t need to bestow you with lavish gifts (as if this extravagant honeymoon around Europe isn’t already enough of a wedding present), Bucky has a weakness when it comes to spoiling you.

“Open it darling.” His voice has a fluctuation of amusement to it, which only makes you all the more eager to find out what’s inside.

With your curiosity piqued, you carefully untie the ribbon holding the box shut. As you open the lid, you're met with a playful smile from Bucky. Inside the box, there's a white and gold envelope and two small white drawstring bags.

You pull out the envelope first, noticing the intricate pattern embossed on the paper. You carefully open the seal and pull out a handwritten card that reads, ‘To my beloved wife, at the halfway point of our honeymoon. You're a goddess and deserve to be worshipped every second for the rest of our lives. Here is a small token of my devotion. Forever yours, James’.

Your eyes become blurry with happy tears as you pull open the other two items within the box. In one bag is a pink egg vibrator. In the other, a classic teardrop shaped butt plug with a dazzling sapphire at its base.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat as you stare at the sex toys glistening in the light of the rising sun. Bucky knows exactly how to spoil you in every way imaginable, especially in the bedroom. You bite your lip and cast a glance at your husband, who's watching you with amusement dancing in his perfect blue eyes.

"What did you have in mind for these?" You ask innocently, trying to mask the excitement in your voice.

Bucky chuckles and steps closer to you on the bed, his fingers deftly untying your silk robe to reveal your naked body. You shiver as his warm hands trail down your curves, and he bites his lip. He leans in to press his lips against your ear, the scruff of his beard tickling your sensitive skin.

"I was thinking we could try them out tonight. Have a little fun at dinner." His husky voice sends shivers down your spine and a wetness flooding your core. You nod eagerly, loving how your body responds to his tantalising touch and the anticipation of what the evening will bring.

It takes a little bit of practice to learn how to walk in tall heels with an egg vibrator sitting pretty between your legs, even when it isn’t switched on, and the butt plug in your ass.

It does help that Bucky's hand rests on your lower back as he guides you into the extravagant restaurant, but with each step his hand dips lower and by the time the smartly dressed waiter has shown you where your private booth is, Bucky is practically squeezing your ass.

The booth is large enough to fit eight people around, but Bucky chooses to sit right beside you, shoulders touching and hand intertwined with yours. He places a gentle kiss to the back of your hand as you look over the menu, unsure what half of the options even are.

You adore how affectionate he is, there's nothing better than seeing the one person you love more than life itself show that they reciprocate that feeling, but this time you know he’s just buttering you up. Biding his time until he decides to unexpectedly turn the vibrator on.

That thought wanders to the back of your mind as Bucky and you enjoy the privacy of your table. The restaurant clearly is used to catering to high profile clientele as you can barely hear nor see any other patrons even though the place has been fully booked for months.

As Bucky makes you laugh, and orders you a bottle of your favourite wine, you almost completely forget about the two toys confidentially nestled within you, that is, until it becomes time for you to order meals.

“I’ll have the-” A shock, like that of being mildly electrocuted, sparks through your body, originating between your legs. You love your husband, but he is an absolute menace for subtly switching on your vibrator with his phone at this very moment.

You squeeze your thighs together and shift your hips in your seat at the new sensation, the egg vibrator coming to life at a dangerously addictive speed.

You don’t trust your voice not to betray you if you attempt to speak your order, so instead you point at the item on the menu you’re after. The waiter reads it back to you, but you simply nod without even paying attention to the words he spoke, you’re too caught up in how the toy continually stimulates your sensitive nerve endings, lighting your insides on fire.

You feel like you’re keeping a closely guarded secret as Bucky stares deeply into your eyes with affection, both of you knowing precisely what is happening beneath the surface as the rest of the world continues none the wiser with their life around you.

“I hate you.” You grumble once the waiter walks away, toes curling in your best stilettos and you shift your hips again, futilely trying to escape the building pleasure which is originating from deep within you.

“I love you too.” His tone is teasing, because he knows with absolute certainty there is no chance of you feeling anything but pure love for him in this lifetime or the next.

You’re drowning in his closeness, the enveloping scent of his expensive aftershave downright intoxicating and his breath on ear as he speaks lowly adds fuel to an already blazing inferno. When Bucky starts drawing slow shapes on your exposed thigh, his touch leaving goosebumps and tingles in its wake, you curse under your breath - it’s one thing to have the vibrator pulsing between your legs, but Bucky’s touch is something else.

“Doing okay baby?” He asks almost tauntingly in response to a moan falling from your lips and your hips rocking underneath the table. You’re on a fast track to heaven as the toy repeatedly massages every sensitive spot inside you, and with the limited space under the table, you’re forced to sit and take the onslaught.

“I’m doing fi-fuck!” You bite your lip but your outburst is rather loud, however, it’s not your fault for while you’re trying to compose yourself in this public setting, Bucky has increased the speed of the vibrator exponentially.

Your panties are completely soaked through now, and though you try to squeeze your thighs together in some feeble attempt to find some semblance of relief. The band in your lower stomach feels like it’s pulled so tight, ready to snap at any second. The tension hanging thick in the air at your table, but Bucky seems to be enjoying your little display for him.

He hooks his index finger under your chin and directs your eyes to his. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as you continue to squirm, slowly leaning closer until you’re mere millimetres from his lips. And as usual, he says the words that are the beginning of your undoing.

“My good girl always cums for me. Are you going to be good today?”

You frantically nod, wishing for nothing more than to be his best girl, his perfect wife. When his soft, supple lips press against yours, your chest blooms with honour and happiness at pleasing him as the wildfire blazes beneath your legs.

Bucky thrusts two fingers inside your mouth as you reach the peak of your high. Moaning around his digits muffles the sound somewhat, but you’re not concerned about anyone hearing at this moment, not when Bucky looks so incredibly proud of you. As your body spasms, Bucky coos and praises you, talking you through your orgasm as the toy continues to furiously pulsate within you, prolonging your shaking orgasm.

You barely have time to come down from your intense high once Bucky turns the vibrator off, and have time to breathe when your dinner is served. Somehow in the chaos of ordering, the waiter managed to get your order correct.

“Make sure you eat all your food, for what I have planned tonight, you’re going to need all your energy and strength.” He says surprisingly nonchalantly considering you were only mere seconds away from your waiter catching you mid orgasm.

You just smile, knowing that somehow with Bucky everything always works out for the best.

“Mmmm yeah, I bet your dick is gonna feel so good in my ass later.” You seductively whisper in his ear before digging into your food, taking pleasure in the longing glance he throws you, seemingly completely uninterested now in the delicious food in front of him.

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[saintbleeding]

[ID: Four digital drawings of Basira, Martin, and Jon from S5 of TMA. Basira is a tall, fat woman with brown skin and curly dark brown hair. Martin is a short, fat white man with greying brown hair, a scraggly beard, and glasses. Jon is tallest and thin with silver, curly hair in a bun, a patchy beard, glasses, and scars across his body. All three are caked in dried blood and miscellaneous grime. In the first drawing, Basira stands with a gun pointed at Martin, with Jon standing nonchalantly behind him with a red glowing halo above him. Basira says “Prove you’re really Martin Blackwood”, Martin asks “How?” and Jon says “You could do a poem. >:3c” In the second, Basira looks on judgmentally as Jon and Martin embrace. Basira says “You done?” with a scribbly aromantic flag below her speech text, and Jon replies “Can we not have a moment?” In the third drawing, the three are walking side by side, Martin and Jon holding hands. Martin says “He needs to do it, and if he doesn’t…”, Basira offers “He gets constipated?” which Jon interrupts “Hardly.” Martin concedes “… actually yeah basically.” In the last, the three of them are seemingly asleep sitting up. Martin has one arm around Jon’s shoulder, his cheek smooshed against the top of Jon’s head. Basira leans against Martin’s other side. Both Martin and Basira look restless. Jon’s eyes are open, bloodshot, and leaking a suspiciously bloody substance as they glow red in the darkness. There is a red glow around all three of them. End ID.]

mlm/wlw hostility my beloved

[f10werfae]

Sugar Plum Princess

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry Cavill x Short!Shy!Wife

summary: Y/n feels a little under the weather after a snow day so Henry gives his sweet shy wife a taste of his special “medicine” (Major Dom Henry)

Disclaimer: Story is completely fictional and may contain inappropriate content

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Lumberjack Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Henry Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Bunny, what were ya doin’ out there? Shoulda be in here gettin’ warm with me” Henry grumbled helping his precious little wife strip out of her white winter suit, her giggles filling his ears every time he’d lightly spank her ass and jiggle it in his warm hands. “M’sorry never seen snow so thick before! Look, Look!” She squealed excitedly showing him the cute selfies she had taken with her snowman she’d named ‘Hen Bear’ after him.

“Don’t ya jus look adorable sweet pea? Gonna send these to me alright?” He smirked seeing how irresistible she looked, the fact that she was all his and his alone made his cock twitch. Y/n on the other hand had butterflies zooming in her stomach, feeling one of her husbands hands fondling her ass while the other was busy typing on her new phone.

“Really pretty?” She twinkled twirling on her toes, her hands holding onto his blue t-shirt, standing on her toes to nuzzle into his neck; the scruff of his beard scratching her ever so gently. “The prettiest baby” He cooed cupping the back of her head, throwing her phone onto the armchair at the corner of their bedroom. “Now come on, get into bed before ya get a cold sweetpea” Clad in only a flimsy thong and a bra, Y/n found herself being smothered by cuddles and kisses once Henry had tucked them both into the mess of blankets; not that she was complaining she absolutely loved cuddles.

- - -

“Now what did I say about yesterday bunbun?” Henry asked setting down a cup of apple juice by the bed, Y/n’s tired eyes looking up at him lovingly as his fingers brushed over her face. “N-not to go out, but but, the snow s’pretty and I hadta” Y/n mumbled nuzzling herself into the comforters, causing Henry’s heart to crack itself open a tiny bit, his sugar babe was sick and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Earlier on in the wee hours of the morning Y/n had broken into a fever, one which Henry spotted when he turned her over to face him. At the start of their relationship Y/n had always asked that if she turned away from Henry while asleep, he was to turn her around and make sure he was cuddling her, or else as she said “I’ll be really angry and won’t talk to you ever again!” Which was a complete lie because when that did happen, Henry had acted cold as if he didn’t care, ultimately breaking sweet Y/n’s heart; leading him to snatch her up in his arms to show her how much he loved her in their beloved bedroom. “My sweet little wife, ya know you’re all mine right? No one else can have ya but me”

After helping her to take a sip of apple juice, Henry went to his side of the bed and was about to slip in. “Nuh-uh mister, y-you can get sick n’ I don’t wan’ you sick” Y/n squealed cornering herself to the edge of the bed, her legs kicking at Henry to keep him away from her. “No fucking kicking me honey” He grumbled grabbing onto each of her ankles, making her whimper and cower at his massive build. Using his sheer strength he dragged her to him, revealing her naked body, which felt hot to the touch; making Henry wince.

“B-but you’re gonna feel icky if ya come near me H-Hen”

“I don’t give a fuck sugar, you’re my little sugar plum n’ if I wanna cuddle on ya then I will. Do you not want me anymore?” Henry taunted, using his manipulative tone, seeing his bunbun’s mouth fall open and head shake rapidly from

side to side before she let out a loud sob. “O-ow” She whimpered holding onto her head due to the migraines, Henry scoffed before bending down and cradling her head to his chest, “S’okay baby, sometimes your brain is all foggy cause ya too precious, and ya need your husband to clear it”

His hands reached down and felt her hot wet juices start to leak out of her, her second set of lips warm and slick for him. “w-what are you doing b-bear? M’still feelin’ icky” She whined, her arms around his shoulders, her glossy eyes peering into his as his lips softly rubbed themselves against hers; to a point where she had taken initiative and let her tongue run over his lips to coax his out.

“Thought you still felt icky baby?” Henry pulled away, chuckling when he felt her legs lock around his waist to keep him closer, soft whines leaving her as she wiggled in his grasp. “S-stop teasing and bein’ a meanie Hen! W-want you to make the fogginess go away” She whimpered, her cheeks hot to touch along with the rest of her body.

“Course honey, I know jus’ how to make it go away, jus’ let daddy have some of his sweet treat, s’that okay bunbun?” He whispered nudging his nose against hers cutely, his heart clenching when she wrinkled her nose and nodded giddily. “Y-ya promise it’ll work?”

She asked worried, “Have I ever lied to ya sugar?”

“N-no”

Not that she knew anyway.

“S’okay baby, c’mere” Henry grunted, both of them were on their sides facing each other, his hand lifting her leg up whilst his cock slipped through her pussy lips, coating itself in all her goodness. “I-is it bad? Am-am I gonna havta see a doctor?” She asked nervously in between not so subtle moans, her hole was practically clenching around nothing.

“After a’ treat your pussy baby, you won’t need a doctor, promise” Henry smirked fitting his cock into her wet warm fuckhole, her hands around his torso, while his groped and massaged her ass like the rough lumberjack he was. “Let me taste those lips baby, stick that tongue out for me too bunny” His open mouth clamping on top of hers, his spit mixing in with her between their lips as she sucked on his tongue.

Pulling their lips apart, her lips were still wrapped around his tongue, sucking on it as if it was her favourite strawberry sucker, her eyes as wide as saucers as she looked up at him as if he was the most amazing thing in the world. “Do ya want some of my medicine baby, promise it’ll make all the ickiness go away” “Mhm wan’ it all da- Hen” She said wide eyed nodding her head,

“Open wide wifey, n’ swallow” He said bringing one hand to cup her jaw, her mouth forming a circle as he spat into his lewdly, feeling his lover’s hole clench at the nickname he called her. After all these months she still found herself getting giddy snd excited anytime he’d call her his wife, “m’ your wife n’ you’re my husband” She’d say at least once a day, almost as if she couldn’t believe it.

Swallowing his saliva readily, Y/n’s eyes had rolled to the back of her head as Henry’s thrusts were deeper and slower, the nestle of curls on his cock itching her clit to a point of rawness, his balls slapping her like it was his hand. “Good girl, gon’ make ya all better honey, promise” He moaned feeling her lips all over his neck, her tongue lazily drawing over it letting it shine with her spit.

“L-love you s-so much, f-feels fuzzy n’ warm” Y/n hiccuped, her own fingers reaching down to hold her lips wider open, letting Henry’s thumb press down directly onto her swollen nub, “Oh- fuck” She gasped while his thumb rubbed rougher circles on her precious sensitive button, “language sugar” He snarked spitting onto her bouncing breasts, licking them up as his thrusts didn’t let down once.

“Fuck baby your tits are so pretty, your nipples beggin’ to be sucked on” He mocked laughing slightly, his lips surrounding a hardened bud while she pressed her tits smothering his face, letting him motorboat her soft pillows; fuck was he in love with his gorgeous wife, n’ he couldn’t help but feel proud at how easy it was for him to get her.

“Imagine these fleshy tits full of milk, all swollen and ready” His mouth greedily moved between each breast, her voice whining and whimpering at each of his filthy words. “N-nothin but my little hole, always so needy and wantin’ attention, but it’s okay baby, i’ll give ya everything ya need” He groaned looking straight back at her, his shaft nearly giving in with each clench and push, her tongue laying out with her eyes rolling back; her lips mumbling incoherent words , “Wan’ it so bad” “m’just your hole b-bear” “W-would you t-take

my milk too, n-not just my hole?” She screamed finally creaming around his shaft, her legs kicking involuntarily while her orgasm rocked through her body. His lips raining kisses all over her face and her lips, her tongue dominating over his lazily as she seemed desperate to taste him.

“I’d take your milk just like this sugar” He moaned gently pulling out, finding the strength to straddle and hover over her torso, his thick paws pushing her tits together dirtily as his length laid in the valley between them. Y/n’s hair was splayed over the pillows majestically, her face dazed and smiley as her tongue gave kitty licks to the head of his shaft, sweat visibly dripping down her face. “W-what else?” She asked.

“I’d fuck your tits everyday bun, treat it like a second pussy, your milk squirting all over me n’ you; letting me taste your sweet treasure that ya made” His balls suddenly felt heavier, his breaths deepening each time he’d thrust and his shaft would go straight into his wife’s mouth. Her breasts surrounding him like a blanket, causing more of his “medicine” to spurt onto her gorgeous face.

“y-yummy” She whispered picking some up with her finger and licking it lewdly, Henry’s lips smashing onto hers affectionately, not caring that he was tasting himself as he licked her face clean and spat it onto her waiting tongue. “W-will I still need the doctor?”

“No honey, you’ll be alright, m’sure of it” He whispered kissing her forehead, feeling her temperature, thankfully their activities had caused her fever to break; all thanks to him. “Y-you love me right?” She asked out of the blue, her fingers twiddling with his beard shyly,

“What sorta question is that? course I do”

“W-well earlier ya didn’t say it back!” She whimpered kissing his chest softly, all over the bite marks she left. “M’sorry sugar plum, swear just forgot, your pussy is jus’ too good” He smirked causing her to giggle and hit his chest, his fingers rubbing over her stomach gently, taking the extra bit of skin in his hands and bending down to kiss and love on it. “I love you so so much” He whispered against her stomach, the part he knew she was most insecure about, but if anything he just saw it as more of her to love. His sugar plum princess.

———

Library blog @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Taglist

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[a-little-revolution]

What a fun find! Let's talk about Game of Throne's Tyrion Lannister!

Image Description: the first photo is of a Game of Thrones Tyrion Lannister figure I found at my local music store. It is in it's packaging, and of the little character dressed in a long red jacket with gold accents, a brown belt at he hips, and boots. I am holding it up to the camera, and in the background there is the music store and my feet on my wheelchair footrest. The second photo is of Tyrion Lannister, played by actor Peter Dinklage who has Achondroplasia dwarfism (like myself). He is white, with brown curly hair, a beard, thick eyebrows and blue eyes. In this photo he is in character with costume attire that is grey with black stripes and a silver pin.

I may have mentioned him in passing, but I've yet to dedicate a post to Peter Dinklage's character Tyrion Lannister in HBO's Game of Thrones (2011-2019). This character has defiantly brought the most attention to the LP community in my lifetime, and won Dinklage multiple Emmy's, a Golden Globe, and an Actor's Guild Award!

Despite not watching the show for it's brutal violence, I've consumed every part with Peter Dinklage and established Tyrion to be an excellent character and great representation for dwarfism. I especially love to see a little person in the fantasy genre that isn't a part of the made up species of "dwarves" such as in Lord of the Rings. He is a human being, strong willed, and beloved by the audience.

[fairysluna]

SINNERS — Chapter 2

After Maegor finds out his beloved niece is to be wed with her own brother, he absolutely loses his mind. He can't just let her go.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Maegor I Targaryen x Fem!OC.

Summary: The sudden departure of Aenelys and Maegor leaves the Queen and King with their hands tied, the rumours of their sinful relationship grow with their absence while they both are too busy getting used to their new home to see the consequences of their actions.

Tags/TW: incest, age gap (9 years), cursing, profanity, manipulation, violence towards oc, mentions of rape, the faith being a pain in the ass.

Word Count: 4.6k

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Her big doe eyes were filled with curiosity and admiration as she was trying to look everywhere at the same time, not wanting to miss any little detail of the gorgeous palace where they were walking through. The decorations were paintings, vases, sculptures and other valuable things that were worthy of everyone's attention. 

Maegor was holding her waist, keeping her close to him as they walked, whoever saw them might think he was scared of someone pulling her out of his arms and taking her away. They were being escorted by a group of guards, Aenelys deduced that they were a group of Unsullied, for they barely looked at them while they were guiding them through the hallways. 

They took a turn, and Aenelys stopped for a second after being witness to the decoration in the walls. Maegor immediately noticed this small action, and he looked down at her without even noticing her red cheeks. 

"Come on, dove," he softly said, as he started to push you forward to continue. 

A blush ran to her cheeks once her mind made sense of the shapes of the tapestries; erotic figures of couples in different positions that woke her curious mind and took her to wonder how those things would feel. Some of those positions seemed uncomfortable, painful even. Her lack of knowledge in the matter had her feeling flustered, which became worse once her innocent curious eyes fell on the masculine shape of her uncle's body. 

She felt her breath hitch once her mind played tricks on her, showing her images of her and Maegor in situations similar to those hanging from the wall. She imagined his big hands roaming around her tiny body, touching those places of her skin where not even her dared to touch. She imagined his lips pressing against her warmth, kissing her everywhere. 

She forced herself to look away from him, now feeling the guilt of having those thoughts involving him in such a compromising way. 

When she least expected it, they arrived in a room where a tall and sturdy old man was waiting for them. He was wearing a kind smile and looking at the both of them with gentle eyes. Aenelys looked at his clothes and that was enough to realize that this man was disgustingly rich; his robes were made with the most divine and exquisite silks of Essos, his white hair and beard were perfectly trimmed, and his neck, fingers and wrists were wrapped with bands made of pure gold. 

He was just a few inches shorter than Maegor, but he was still taller than her. 

Aenelys stopped her pace and Maegor stood in front of her. The unknown man gave them a small bow and then he spoke, 

"My prince," he started, "dear friend of mine, how glad I am to finally have you back in my home." He stretched his arm, and Maegor took his hand shaking it in a formal way, but his treatment seemed to be more friendly towards him now. The words of the old man left quite clear that it was not the first time they have seen each other. "I see you came with company… Who's this gorgeous young girl?" 

Maegor took a step aside, presenting her to his old friend. She felt all the eyes falling on her body, and she looked for her uncle's hand for comfort; just as she used to do when she was a child. Maegor smiled, pleased with that action. 

"This is my niece, princess Aenelys."

Aenelys looked at the floor, she tried to lie to herself and say she was not disappointed with the way he introduced her; she was expecting something else, some sweet words that would help him claim how dearly he loved her, or perhaps something that might have shown his intentions to actually marry her. Instead, he said that; words that were pronounced with a neutral voice, showing no feelings nor emotions. 

Perhaps she was living through false and unrealistic expectations, but she didn't know better. 

"It is my greatest pleasure being in front of you, my princess," the old man said, bowing to her now. "Allow me to introduce myself; I'm Ser Vyros Nahar, but please just call me Vyros." 

He grabbed her hand and pulled it closer to his lips as he left a soft and elegant kiss on it. A gesture that visibly bothered the prince, who softly frowned after being witness to that small action, especially after she smiled kindly back at the old man. 

"The pleasure is all mine, Vyros…" she spoke softly. 

"Allow me to introduce you to my son, Draqos, who would be more than pleased to be your guard during your stay in Braavos, my princess."

The young dark haired man took a step forward and leaned over to grab the princess' hand. Before he could even touch her, Maegor stepped in between them and frowned upon the man, who was slightly taller than him, but slimmer. Aenelys looked at her feet, showing herself submissive towards the action of her beloved uncle; Draqos had no choice but to step back. 

"That will not be necessary, Vyros. I'm capable of protecting my niece."

Maegor looked at Draqos with a deadly stare that would perfectly threaten anyone, but he did not bend. Draqos stood tall as his deep green eyes turned to the princess and a small smirk appeared on his handsome face. The prince took this as an insolent action that did nothing but anger him more. 

"My prince, I'm sure you will not have time to take care of your niece at every moment," he explained, "the nights are dangerous in this part of the city, beautiful girls like your niece might be at risk if she's not well protected."

Those words seemed to cause some kind of distraught to the prince, who stared at his friend with complete anger after he doubted his ability to protect her. His jaw clenched, and his back straightened as his tone changed to one somewhat sterner. "Do you not see me fit to protect my niece, friend?" He spoke angrily, almost grunting. A tone that Aenelys had heard him use many times to multiple people, except for her.

"I mean no offense, my prince. You're a fine warrior that is certain, but I've known you for years, your nights will be quite different from hers, you will not be here to protect her."

Aenelys knew what those words meant. She was not dumb or stupid to ignore the fact that her beloved uncle had needs that needed to be satisfied. She knew perfectly well that there would be nights where she would see her uncle surrounded by women with giant smiles, and voluptuous bodies; but some part of her wished and thought things would be different. She thought that she was going to be his only company, as well as he was going to be hers. 

Oh, such a silly thing to think. 

Maegor took a deep breath as he turned around to see his beautiful niece already looking up at him. He stared at her violet eyes, staring at him with the same devotion as always. Maegor thought of her as someone loyal, someone who will never disappoint him; he knew she was deeply in love with him, and he knew that no man in the world would be able to take her heart out of his hands, not even this gallant man called Draqos, who seemed to be quite interested in the princess, for his eyes never left her angelic features. 

He grabbed her face with the same delicacy he saved only for her. Aenelys leaned towards his touch, almost purring at it. Maegor found himself convinced about his thoughts, she already belonged to him for eternity and that subtle gesture of hers was enough proof to know it certainly. She was his, only his. 

"Would you like that, dove?" He whispered as his eyes locked with hers. Aenelys' puppy eyes glistening with the sight of him. Gods she was so lost on him, "is it fine for you?" 

Aenelys nodded softly, a subtle movement that Maegor only perceived because he was close enough to see it. He leaned a little, just enough to brush his nose against hers and make her feel the closeness of his lips. She basically drooled, so enamored by him that it looked pathetic. 

The multiple pair of eyes looked at them unimpressed by that action. Ser Vyros even smiled tenderly as he stared at them. Aenelys did not let that slide, she noticed how there was no disgusted look on their faces after seeing such a scene, something that would definitely happen if they were in the West side of the world. It was in that moment when she thought she had made the right choice, escaping from the judgmental stares of the Westerosi people who were too blind to understand it; to understand them. Aenelys knew that this new era in their lives would lead towards her much desired happy ending, away from the people that would frown upon a relationship they would never empathize with. 

She thought about it, being Maegor's wife was her long time goal in life since she had memories of her childhood. She knew the customs of her family would make it easier for her to marry him, even when he already had a wife… but it was a woman that he did not love, a woman he did not even like. 

Now there was their chance —her chance— to prove to him that she will be able to make him happy, to satisfy him. They were free of discernment, no one would say something about them and the weird relationship that had been so questioned back at home. 

Aenelys smiled at the people around her, and she was determined to make this place her new home. 

Across the Narrow Sea, things were crumbling into pieces inside the Red Keep. Queen Alyssa was raging once the news of her beloved daughter's absence reached her ears, completely lost in the despair of not knowing her whereabouts. 

“This is your fault!” She would scream at her husband, “if you would’ve exiled him before, our child would be here with us!” The tears were falling down her face as she was panting, “Now she’s out there, with your brother! Only the Gods know what kind of atrocities he would make her do…”

My poor child, she thought, wiping and crying out loud as she walked around the room in despair. King Aenys was trying to be serene, but the threatening words of his brother came back to his mind as he saw this as Maegor’s revenge for wanting him out of the castle. Aenys did not want to share that piece of information with his wife, because he knew that all this happened because of him.

He could have done many things to prevent this mess from happening, but he did nothing more than underestimate his young brother. Now these were the consequences of it, his daughter kidnapped by her uncle in foreign lands where she has never been. 

But when the guards arrived, King Aenys knew he was wrong. He had misjudged his brother, and his daughter. 

“Gaelithox is nowhere to be seen, Your Grace.” One of them spoke, the Queen walked closer to the group of guards, her eyes widened with confusion. “Neither is Balerion.”

“It is quite rare that he kidnapped her and let her take her dragon with them.” Aenys pointed out. 

Alyssa looked at him scandalized, with an horrified stare. “So you’re suggesting that our daughter willingly left King’s Landing with that… uncouth man?” She spat the last words, rage running down her veins, “How can you even suggest such a thing? She is our girl!”

“She is a woman, my Queen.” He softly spoke, “She is not a girl anymore.”

“We shall look for her.” Alyssa said. She turned to the guards and looked at them with despair in her eyes. She would completely deny the fact that her daughter might willingly leave her side. It was impossible, Aenelys would never do that. “Please, reunite the tropes and prepare the ships. I want you to go to Essos and look at every piece of land you see… I want my daughter back and the head of Maegor be put on a spike.”

“You shall not do such a thing.”  Aenys said, the guards and the Queen looked at him with disbelief. 

Queen Alyssa walked towards him, her eyes red with tears as she was breathing fast. She could not believe her husband did not care about the safety of their first child, and let her be out there without help. She might be in danger, Maegor was a ruthless man. As far as the Queen knows, he might have done indescribable things to her daughter by now.

“We must do something!” She insisted, “Bring my daughter back!”

“There is a big possibility that Aenelys left King’s Landing because she wanted to do it.” Aenys said, “If we tried to go and get her, we do not know what Maegor is capable of doing.”

Then it hit her. The Queen stared at her husband with her jaw clenched after hearing those words; words that made her realize what was actually happening here. The mere thought made her scoffed while she shook her head in disapproval, her lips forming an ironic smile that contrasted with her soaking cheeks.

“You are afraid of him…” She claimed, “You are not scared of what he might do to Aenelys you are scared of what he might do to you if you dare to pull our daughter away from him.”

“Alyssa, my dear-”

“He threated you, did he not?” Alyssa interrupted. His silence did nothing but to prove that what she had thought was true. “How can you even call yourself a king?!” She yelled, blinded by rage and distress, “How are you planning to protect the Seven Kingdoms when you barely can protect your own daughter?!”

The guards did not even dare to move after such an altercation, and Aenys looked at her shocked; not angry, not mad, just shocked. Of course he knew he had to do something after Maegor threatened him, but he never did because he never thought his own brother would do something like this. He trusted in him too much that now he was facing the consequences of it. 

Queen Alyssa soon left the room, fuming and crying desperate for her lost daughter. A couple of guards followed her, and when they were far enough from the King, she stopped them and spoke.

“I want a ship leaving for Essos in the morning. You will find my daughter and bring her here, where she belongs. Understood?” The guards nodded obediently.

When the next day arrived, a group of guards left Westeros in a fleet of three ships. King Aenys never found out.

The rumors around the castle were echoing louder with each hour passing. The absence of Aenelys and Maegor was noticeable, and the servants did not take too much time to spread the word to the entirety of King’s Landing. People were whispering in the hallways that Maegor kidnapped the Princess to rape her, to force her to marry him; others said that the Princess left willingly in her dragon in order to marry him. The other theory is that she was with child, and her own parents had sent her away to avoid the disgrace that those news would bring to the family.

Whatever the truth was, the Faith did not take long to find out about the situation, and the ravens started to fly across the continent from Oldtown to King’s Landing. The Grand Maester Gawen was the one delivering the news; the Faith had given a warning to the King, to stop the rumor of her daughter being a sinner, or else the Faith will take justice with their own hands. The High Septon did not allow incest, claiming it was an abomination that was going to ruin the Seven Kingdom. Sister and brothers, uncles and nieces or aunt and nephews marrying each other should be punished, for the Seven would never allow this kind of profanity. The King had his hands tied, even if he gets Aenelys back, his new husband would be her brother… and that was not a solution for the Faith. 

Soon, the small folk, who once loved their King, started to blame him for the disappearance of their beloved princess. The servants and the spiders within the walls were responsible for misleading the information and after a few days all of King’s Landing were claiming that the King had given away his first child, Princess Aenelys, to his brother Maegor in order to keep him in line. Of course that was far away from the truth.

And that is how everything went to pieces. His daughter had begun something that soon was getting out of control. King Aenys started to lose his allies. The people who once loved him started to hate him for a lie, and the Faith was starting to chase him for the same thing. A week after the disappearance of Maegor and Princess Aenelys, the Faith declared war in the name of the Seven and the weak King started to decay. 

Across the Narrow Sea, however, Aenelys was oblivious of everything that was happening back at home. In Braavos she had found a new home that had the same accommodations that she had back in Westeros. Maegor had made sure that she had a good group of servants and maidens that would keep her company in the days where he was not able to be by her side. 

But now Maegor was sitting on a large sofa. He was drinking a cup of exquisite wine while he was watching Aenelys on the balcony of their new home. She would be there every evening, watching the city and the sea that was beside it as she drank her tea. She was asking herself how her family was doing… a part of her was missing them terribly, but the other part of her was content that she was able to be with Maegor, even when it wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

When Aenelys arrived in Essos she had the dream that her uncle would have the intention to marry her or at least to make her a woman. She is no fool, she is actually quite curious, which is why she has come across a few books that speak about pleasure and marriage… she was expecting something as such. But, in reality, Maegor has not changed his treatment towards her. He has not kissed her, he has not even touched her beyond a small hug. Aenelys tried not to show her disappointment, but it was clearly visible sometimes, Maegor just decided to ignore it.

The only thing that has changed, is that now they share a bed, but still Maegor would not even hold her close to his body at night when the coldness and the freezing wind of the East made her shiver between the sheets. There were nights where he would not even sleep in the bed at all, for he was spending his time in brothels or with hired whores in other rooms of the palace where they were staying; they were a gift from Ser Vyros. 

Aenelys came to realize how thin the walls were; for she was able to hear during the night how her uncle would pleasure those women without shame or intentions to hide his profanity. Her heart would ache, her body would curl up in the bed as she cuddled with the blankets and silk sheets, closing her eyes and trying so hard to ignore the sound that those women would make. They were tortuous nights, filled with nightmares and subtle tears that would soak her rosy cheeks; feeding the imminent jealousy that would grow inside her chest. 

She found herself in the balcony once again, the midday sun rays hitting on her milky skin and making it look paler than it already was. A white dress she was wearing, Maegor would always make her wear that color, claiming that it made her eyes look even more beautiful. There was no cup of tea between her hands now, for her mind was too busy repeating the previous nights as a constant poison contaminating her senses and making her upset. Her lip would quiver every now and then as the itch on her nose would announce the upcoming tears that she would miserably try to hold back. Her discontent was visibly obvious to everyone who possessed at least one working eye; she was being miserable… too heartbroken to even realize about the presence of her uncle in the room. 

Maegor immediately perceived something was wrong with her, usually the smell of his cologne would be enough for her to turn around and flash him with the most innocent and gorgeous smile. This time, there was nothing as such, he found her naked back and her unbraided silver hair instead of her pretty, doe eyes. 

He cautiously walked towards her, his heavy shoes being dragged on the floor carpet which muffled his steps. He grabbed one of the chairs close to the entrance of the balcony and sat there, his thick legs spreading open as his hand, which was carrying a glass of fine Dornish wine, remained on the armrest. He cleared his throat, and saw how the girl sank in her position after hearing the sudden noise that ended the silence. 

“I can perceive you are not content this morning, my beautiful dove,” he began, his eyes examining the small frame of his niece. “What troubles you? Are you missing home already?”

She looks at her bare feet, shaking her hand as she, inevitably, steps closer to him. It was as if she was unable to keep herself apart from him when they were in the same room. 

“There is something that bothers me a bit,” she confessed, shyly, her voice sounding as soft as a caress. 

Maegor leaned back, and Aenelys looked at him up and down. A thin, loose, white shirt was covering his wide and thick chest. The blonde, almost invisible, hairs were decorating his skin. The poor girl felt the blush running into her cheeks at the sight, especially after having intrusive thoughts about him. Lustful ideas flood her mind making her weak in the knees.

“Tell me, dove,” he asked her, gently reaching for her hand and pulling her closer to him. She was standing between his legs as he hand went now to her hip. 

Aenelys took a deep breath that came out too shaky for her taste. She was nervous not only because she was about to confess something to him, but also because his big hand was touching her. It barely let her think, she felt embarrassingly dumb. 

“What- what you do with those women,” she told him, “I don’t like it.”

Maegor frowned, “what thing?”

The next words caused her some struggle as she fought the shyness within her to be able to pronounce them. “Bedding them,” she murmured. 

The man chuckled, “you don’t like it?” He repeated her previous words with a playful smirk on his devilish features. She nodded. “Why?”

“It’s not-” she interrupted herself, taking a deep breath and using it as an excuse to think about a proper answer. “I don’t like the idea of them… touching you.”

“And you wish for me to stop doing it?” He asked. She nodded once again. “But, darling, if I don’t practice with them, how am I supposed to know how to please you?” 

Her eyes widened with surprise, her breathing becoming unsteady. “Me?” 

Maegor smiled, a mischievous gesture that had her drooling all over again. He pulled her even closer, and in a sudden movement he lifted her up to make her sit on his lap. It was a quick, agile move; he barely put effort in such an action. Aenelys was unable to hide the rouge on her cheeks, feeling the hands of the man she loved sneaking under her dress to caress her thighs. Her eyes became blurry as she dreamed awake. Would he finally claim her as his?

“You are supposed to give me children once we marry, my dove, and during the process I want you to feel the same amount of pleasure as I will feel.”

He felt how she subtly shook under his touch, sighing as if he had just told him the greatest news of her life. Her lilac orbes being clouded by the so usual dreamy glow.

“Marry me?” She asked in a whisper, “you… you plan on doing so?”

“Well, of course,” he shrugged, “why else do you think I brought you with me?” 

“But wouldn’t it be better if you practice with… me?” she doubtfully said the last word. To which Maegor’s smile started to vanish. 

“Oh, my sweet dove,” he cooed. His hands moving dangerously close to her core, his thumbs rubbing against her inner thighs. “You’re not ready for me, yet. You’re far too innocent and perfect for me to ruin you now.”

“But-”

“Uh, uh,” he quickly silenced her, and she pressed her lips. “You will be a good girl, and you will wait for me.”

“But I don’t want you to be with those women anymore,” she quickly claimed. Her lips pouting as her eyes became teary now. 

Maegor closed his eyes as he scoffed, he was starting to lose his patience. His big hands squeezed her thighs a bit too harsh; her response was a gasp of surprise as one of his hands reached her jaw as he forced her to look at his eyes without escape. Aenelys frowned upon this odd gesture towards her, and her doe eyes soon turned into ones filled with a mixture of confusion and fear. Maegor was not able to control his strength, causing a bit of harm in the delicate skin of his niece.

“Stop this, Aenelys, stop acting like a child,” he whispered, his heavy breathing hitting against her quivering lips. “I will not accept orders from you, I have already told you my reasons; you may or may not believe me… but just stay out of what does not concern you.”

She let out a shaky breathing before pushing herself away from him. Aenelys stood up with her knees trembling and the tears soaking her cheeks. Her eyes stared at him with a new light, Maegor noticed it almost instantly, and that is when he knew he had ruined his plans. He had scared her. The poor girl’s hand went to touch her sore jaw, which now had the fingertips of the man printed on her delicate skin. 

“Aenelys…” He said, standing up and trying to reach for her. She just took a step back, making him sigh. “Aenelys, please-”

“I should’ve stayed,” she whispered. Her voice was broken and filled with hurt. 

Maegor laughed with irony, “you have a dragon, if you want to leave, then leave. I am not forcing you to be here.”

His words only broke her more. She had to bite her lip to avoid a sob to escape her, it was too painful. 

She did not say anything else. She just turned around, still covering her jaw with her hand and she just walked away from him. Maegor rolled his eyes as he sat back on the chair, drinking his wine in one sip. The empty cup soon was thrown across the room, causing a thunderous sound that echoed in the room. 

“Fuck,” was the only thing he said. 

BOLD MEANS I COULDN'T TAG YOU.

GENERAL TAG LIST - @borikenlove @aemondsversion @jvpit3rs @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @valeskafics @clairacassidy @aemondx @arcielee @randomdragonfires @theminesofmoria @gothtargaryen @melsunshine @urmomsgirlfriend1

SINNERS TAG LIST - @hypocritic-trash-baby @misspendragonworld @hangmanscoming

[theafterglow83]

Stray thoughts on a Sunday morning.

5/12/24

Since the release of TTPD I’ve heard and seen a lot of Maylors rising from the grave. Some words of advice- stay buried.

Their claim is that Taylor has had a hidden relationship with Matty Healy for the past 8 years. I’ve even seen some claim Reputation is about him

I laughed.

I’ve heard people say kissgate was to make Matty jealous.

I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes

They even think Maroon is about Matty😂

* shakes head

Let me tell you something honey- NYC ain’t screaming nobody’s name but Karlie Kloss who also just happens to be the only one Taylor’s ever dated who is fit like a daydream and Matty Healy’s lips and disgusting stained teeth are not the lips she called home.

Open the schools!

Dream girls

Do they even realize how utterly ridiculous that is?

Do they process any critical thinking skills whatsoever?

Please tell me why Taylor Swift would have to hide a relationship with a white male her own age ?

What’s the scandal?

Yeah, he’s rough around the edges but PR could have easily ironed him out if she was so in love with him as they claim. Nobody’s worse than the overrated, clout chasing, alcoholic, fading athlete she’s bearding with now. They covered up for him when his old tweets surfaced.

At least they got the hidden relationship part right - but she wasn’t hiding ratty you brainless wonders -she was hiding Karlie Kloss.

There also is that rumor that Taylor had a short lived fling with ol ratty from around Feb- March 2023 till around June. Thing is she was touring through most of that time. He was seen at a couple of concerts and out once in NYC. Hardly the making of a love affair - but a good diversion trail for her beloved Swifties to follow and take the bait that he was her secret lover she was hiding from the world if the topic were to come up in her songs.

The entire thing makes me scratch my head. It’s as crazy as the people who believe Karlie was PR to cover up Taylor’s relationship with Diana ( who there’s been zero connections to her in years) or Lily ( which in my opinion is completely fan fiction)

My God there’s more photos of Karlie with Lily than Taylor and not to mention that Derek Blasberg ( KK’s ride or die) is still friends with Lily. Does anyone really believe he would even associate with her if she betrayed his beloved Karlie.

Use your brains!

And please tell me why you would get Karlie Kloss who had multiple bi/ lesbian rumors attached to her to do a PR relationship with Taylor to cover up the fact that Taylor was bi/ gay.

Open the schools - hire more teachers

All roads always lead to Karlie Kloss … and my God who could blame her! Karlie Kloss is one in a 8 billion. Ratlors - Nice try -crawl back in your hole

Rant over - enjoy your day🤍

[ladamedusoif]

My Kiss, Only For You

The Thief x Museum Guide F!Reader - One Shot

Pairing: The Thief x Museum Guide F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI)

Content/warnings: oral (f receiving); theft (I mean, obviously); smut; did I mention theft; strong language

Summary: You've noticed a regular attendee on the guided tours you offer as part of your job at the museum - and one day, he decides to ask you for more information on a favourite exhibit.

Notes: I keep on getting sent to horny jail by @lunapascal and @julesonrecord. (P would be very disappointed in you two insisting on incarcerating me all the time.)

This time, for reasons I'm still not entirely sure about, I was sentenced to 'double jail' and have two punishment pieces to write to get myself free. This first one, chosen by @julesonrecord, involves The Thief (from the wine ads) and the prompt "stealing a kiss".

Please enjoy my first foray into writing smut about a (very sexy) man from an ad campaign.

I wrote this at like, 1am and am still worried there are sections I thought I wrote but that were actually happening in a dream. Bear that in mind as you read.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“And we finish with the jewel - if you’ll permit me a little pun - of the collection, the remarkable Katarzyna’s Kiss ruby.”

The afternoon’s tour group is mostly teenagers on a school trip, and they couldn’t be less interested in the bright red gemstone illuminated in the case behind you if they tried. One of them lazily lifts their phone to snap a photo, apparently of the display. It’s only when you see them pouting for a selfie that you realise they’ve had a BeReal notification.

You keep going with the standard tour script, putting your heart into it as always. You notice a familiar face at the back of the group, listening attentively: a handsome, dark-eyed man you guess must be in his mid to late forties, who is a regular attendee of your tours in the museum. He seems to be particularly interested in the gemstones and jewellery collections, always turning up for those tours with a notebook and a random, specialist text on the subject. 

“The story behind this gemstone and its unusual name is that a seventeenth-century Polish princess supposedly fell in love with the apprentice to the court jeweller. Now, as you can imagine, in those days an apprentice jeweller would never be considered an appropriate match for a princess, and their love was doomed from the start.”

The handsome man smiles at you, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. You offer a little smile in return, noticing how the museum lighting catches the attractive patches of grey in his sparse beard.

“The poor young apprentice had never kissed his princess, and not because he didn’t want to - they were afraid they would be caught in the carefully-monitored world of the court.” Your expression turns sad as you move to the next part. 

“One day, the young jeweller heard that his beloved was to be married - the next day, in fact. He was distraught. But when the princess woke on her wedding day, equally heartbroken, she found this ruby - so the story goes - in a gorgeous, handmade silver box, engraved with the words ‘My kiss, only for you’”.

One of the teenagers at the front yawns dramatically, setting the others off into fits of giggles. You sigh. “And that brings our tour to an end, I guess. Gift shop that way, toilets over there, if you want to find out more about the collections you can purchase a guidebook…”

Your voice trails as the group rapidly disperses. Only your handsome regular is left. You hadn’t noticed before how nicely dressed he is - not showy, not in the least, but his clothes have that unmistakable air of quality and expense. Today he’s wearing a dark green, beautifully cut casual jacket with a Nehru collar, combined with dark jeans and a pristine white grandfather shirt. 

“Thank you for a wonderful tour, as usual.” His voice is warm and low, a pleasing sound in the near-empty gallery. 

“Thank you,” you return the compliment. “You’re one of our regulars, aren’t you?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose and nods. You notice he’s holding a small green notebook in one hand, and a pen in the other. “I must admit, though, that I prefer to go on your tours. You are a natural - truly, a joy to listen to. So knowledgeable!” He turns and looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “And, if you’ll forgive me for being forward, even lovelier to look at than Katarzyna’s Kiss.”

You raise your eyebrows. The closest thing to flirting you’d experienced in your time as a guide was when elderly men would corner you near the military history displays and wax lyrical at you about nineteenth-century battleships.

The man has moved closer, now, to you and to the display case. He appraises the ruby at close range. “I’d like to talk to you a little more about this beautiful thing - I’m fascinated by the story.” He turns and looks at you over the top of his glasses. “Would dinner tonight be a good time to talk about this kiss?”

To your surprise, he’d booked a table at the fanciest restaurant in the city. Dinner had been a delight, swapping stories of rare jewels and favourite galleries and museums around the world. 

He had changed since this afternoon, and arrived dressed in an exquisite green and black check suit with a black shirt and tie. He was attractive, there was no way around it - but you preferred to keep your guard up a little longer.

You were about to order a cab when you realised you didn’t have your phone.

“Shit. I must have left it in the office.” 

“It’s not too far away, is it?” He is the picture of concern. “I’ll gladly accompany you back to the museum.”

So he does, offering you his arm at one point like a man in an old movie. You huff a laugh at the gesture until you realise he’s serious. 

“Oh, god. I’m sorry.”

He keeps his arm out, offered to you, and smiles at you with an eyebrow raised. “Chivalry isn’t quite dead yet, ma chérie.”

Maybe it’s the sneaking into the museum after hours, with its connotations of illicit shenanigans, maybe it’s the whiskey you had after dinner, or maybe it’s just the way his suit sits so perfectly over his broad frame, as if it’s begging to be touched and clung to. 

Whatever it is, you’ve barely entered your small office when you’re pushing him against the wall and kissing him like your life depends on it. He groans into your mouth and it goes straight to your pussy. 

He guides you back onto the desk and sits you on the edge, lowering you down carefully as he stands above you. He trails a long, thick finger across the neckline of your dress, slipping his fingertip under the fabric to trace the outline of your breasts.

You whine in pleasure and frustration as he kisses your body. 

“Tell me more about Katarzyna’s Kiss, beautiful. Do you believe the story?”

He keeps kissing as you talk, through the fabric of your dress down to your thighs, where he hitches up the skirt and encourages you to open your legs a little wider. You moan as you feel his fingers tracing up the inside of your thighs.

“I want to kiss you, mi amor, but I will only do so if you say the word.”

You nod frantically, all thoughts of the bright red ruby forgotten. 

He brings his torso down to meet yours, placing a soft, wet kiss to your lips. You hear the zipper of his pants come down and you know that he has taken his cock in his hand. With the other, he reaches past the top of your head, stretching his hand out along the desk and resting his fingers on the marass of papers and, you judge by the clicks going on behind you, your computer keyboard.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me again?” Your voice is heavy, confused. He’s kept one hand behind you, still resting on the keyboard, as he intersperses caressing and kissing your breasts with giving his cock a quick stroke.

“I am, chérie, be patient. The kiss I plan to steal now is more valuable than any ruby - tastes better, too.”

He drops to his knees and pulls your legs apart, dragging your panties down over your soft thighs and knees. He begins by literally kissing your cunt, placing soft, delicate kisses to the wet folds before his broad tongue strokes its way from your opening all the way to your clit. It elicits a muffled scream from you.

“You can’t be there already, beautiful thing.” You aren’t, but the way he’s ‘kissing’ your pussy, then driving his fingers inside you, is getting you very close.

When he begins to suck your clit you feel the pressure building, and soon your slick is coating his perfect nose, his mouth, his face - and his beard. It glistens in the soft light of your desk lamp. 

“Fuck me,” you murmur quietly. 

“Not tonight, dear one,” he says as he returns to standing, zipping back up his pants. “Stay put, I’ll get something to clean you up. Where are the bathrooms?”

You point him towards them, unable to stand up just yet. He’s made you feel completely boneless, fucked out with just his mouth and fingers on your own desk. It had been a while since anyone made you come at all, let alone like that.

You realise you don’t even know his name.

And soon, you realise he’s been gone a rather long time.

The museum’s back corridors are unsettling at night. You wander up and down, calling quietly into the darkness to see if you can find him.

The wail of the siren is deafening as you race back to your office, frantically trying to log back in to check where the alarm has been triggered. You try to contact the night security team, but there’s no response. The screen eventually lights up and you see it: the Kiss ruby. That’s what they’re after.

Security arrives in the exhibition gallery a few minutes after you, leaving it to you to reveal the carefully opened case and the empty plastic clasp that once held the ruby on display.

Where was he? Did he get stuck in part of the building and panic when the alarm went off?

You reach into your pocket to find your phone before you remember you don’t even have his number. 

You find a crisp, folded piece of paper in your dress pocket. It had definitely not been there earlier.

You sneak off behind another display to open the note, before police arrived to question you. The handwriting is fanciful, rendered in pen and ink:

I have helped myself to Katarzyna’s, I’m afraid, but remember that the kiss I gave you tonight - my kiss - is only for you.

Adieu, chérie!

Your Gentleman Thief

[the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep]

“Papa and Tara” Oil Paint on Canvas, 1499 DR

Gif credit to @gale-gaze

“Papa!” the girl cried out excitedly as she burst into Gale’s library. His daughter was technically supposed to knock before entering her father’s library, but Gale adored his daughter’s visits. Even when she did interrupt his work, he was more excited about her than any composition he could make with the Weave. Tara was asleep next to him as he read by the fire. The tressym awoke with a soft trill, her wings twitching.

Karlach was born the year after he and Tav were married. From the moment that Tav told him that she was pregnant, Gale was enamored with his future child. He fussed endlessly over Tav throughout the pregnancy, hyper-attuned to any slight grimace of discomfort, craving, or restlessness from his wife. He paused all of his arcane research and teaching students to attend to her, despite Tav’s protests that he didn’t need to worry himself so much. “My love, there is nothing more important in this world or any other than you and our child,” he would say, placing a hand on Tav’s belly. “The Weave will always exist and I will shall always be able to compose within it, but this is worth more than kingdoms.”

Gale, true to his nature, read any book he could get his hands on related to child-rearing. Since having a child with Mystra was out of the question, he never imagined being a father.

Gale smiled proudly upon seeing Karlach, marking his place in the book before closing it. He always gave his daughter his fullest attention. Karlach skipped over to where her father sat on the sofa. Gale’s library was her favorite place in the house. She loved the way it smelled like old books and dust, just like her beloved father. More than that, it was where she could most frequently find Tara, who was her best friend next to Gale.

“Ah, Karlach!” he exclaimed. “My dearest daughter. How were your lessons today? I am certain that you are excelling, as always.”

“Today was so much fun!” she said, her voice still brimming with excitement. “I made you something!”

“My goodness! Is it another addition to the gallery?” Gale asked. His library was filled with Karlach’s creative works, all of which he cherished. When his daughter began bringing her artwork home from her classes, he cleared any space he could in his library to display Karlach’s work. Each painting she made was framed with a tiny orb of light suspended overhead so that Gale could fully appreciate each work of art in full detail. Beneath each of them, there was a tiny plaque with the name, date, and medium: “Papa Doing Magic,” Watercolor on Baldurian Parchment, 1498 - Karlach Dekarios; “Mama and Papa”, Oil pastel on Waterdhavian Parchment, 1498 - Karlach Dekarios. While Karlach dabbled in many mediums, painting was her favorite.

“I think you and Tara will really, really, *really* like this one,” Karlach giggled. Her face was smudged with paint, her nose spotted with deep cerulean. Although his opinion was biased, never before had Gale seen a child as beautiful as his daughter. She was his spitting image; sparkling brown eyes, untamed chestnut curls and his smile. There was no denying that she was a Dekarios.

Karlach produced a small canvas from behind her back and handed it to her father. “It’s you and Tara!” she exclaimed, beaming with pride.

The painting portrayed Gale and Tara sitting on the flocked velvet sofa of his library. Gale was portrayed with an oblong body, stick arms, and a beard. Tara’s likeness resembled a brown and orange egg with disproportionately large white wings. In the background, there were several asymmetrically drawn bookshelves adorned with books of many different colors.

Gale took the painting from Karlach’s hands, looking upon it with amazement. “Karlach, my darling girl, this is your best work yet. Such skill you have!”

Karlach bounced on her heels, grinning from ear to ear. “Really?!”

Gale nodded, admiring the painting as if it was the finest piece of artwork he’d ever seen. To him, his daughter’s work was always beautiful and he grew prouder of her by the day. “Tara, hasn’t she captured your likeness beautifully?”

“Yes, Mr. Dekarios! Little Miss Karlach is truly a natural! So very talented!” Tara trilled. Objectively, Karlach’s art was like any other child’s, but Tara loved seeing how happy Gale was when Karlach brought him her paintings.

He patted the space next to him on the sofa. “You must tell me all about your creative process.”

Karlach sat beside her father, her legs dangling above the floor. Describing her creative processes was her favorite part of showing her father her art.

“It’s your and Tara’s favorite place in the whole wide world so it’s my favorite place too!”

Gale ruffled Karlach’s curls. “Right you are, sweet girl. The level of detail is remarkable. As always, you never fail to amaze me.”

Gale looked down at his daughter, the child he never thought he would have. Even though she looked like him, she had her mother’s spirit and the tenacity of her namesake — Karlach Cliffgate.

“Now, where shall we hang this one?” Gale asked Karlach.

“Hmmm…” Karlach hummed, pursing her lips together as if attempting to solve a difficult problem. “I think it should go… over there!”

She was pointing to a vacant space over her father’s piano, the last empty wall space in the library. Admittedly, Gale had hoped to use the space to hang a rare tapestry that Elminster had gifted him for his 50th birthday, but Gale couldn’t say no to Karlach. Tav worried about Gale spoiling her, but Karlach’s puppy dog eyes never failed to sway him.

“You have such an eye for design. That spot is absolutely perfect. Shall we hang it tomorrow?”

Karlach nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Can I help, Papa?”

“Of course you can, my love,” he answered, kissing the top of her head. In the meantime, he would need to make a new plaque for the painting.

“Thank you, Papa!” she exclaimed, giving her father a tight hug. “I love you!”

Sometimes, Gale found himself misty-eyed whenever his wife or daughter told him that they loved him. They both loved him so purely, not for his capabilities to compose the Weave, but for the husband and father he was. And he loved them, more than he could ever have imagined. Nothing in this plane of existence nor any other could compare.

Gale embraced his daughter. “I love you too, my sweet girl.”

[dark-frosted-heart]

Doting LoveHolic - Roger Barel

From Elbert’s route release collection event.

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. Nsfw dialogue.

Roger's a perv and a deceptive ass but we know that already 😌

The sound of pleasure-filled moans and scent of alcohol fills a mansion deep within a forest.

Noblewoman: ...Ah, there...More.

A good number of people drunk on alcohol and indulging in sweet pleasures are mingling before my eyes.

(What a sight...)

This mansion owned by an aristocrat only opens its doors on nights of the full moon. During that time, anything goes and whatever happens in the mansion stays in the mansion.

There's a rumor of a drug deal taking place here so Roger and I are now in the middle of an undercover investigation.

(It's better if we don't stay here too long. Let's get to the bottom of this quickly so that we can leave.)

Bearded gentleman: Hey, miss. If you don't have a partner then...how about me?

(!)

Kate: Um...I...

Bearded gentleman: Your inexperience is cute. I can teach you plenty of pleasurable things, so why don't you come with me?

???: Little lady.

Before the lecherous man could touch me, I was hugged by a pair of strong arms.

Roger: Sorry, but this one's mine. If you're looking for someone to satisfy you, you'll have to look somewhere else.

The bearded man glared at Roger and clicked his tongue before leaving in a hurry.

Kate: Thank you, Roger.

Roger: If you keep standing around like that you'll get eaten up. Look, the host's watching.

Kate: Huh, where?

Roger: By the door. We're newcomers so it's no surprise that he's more wary of us. Geez, looks like we're gonna need to trick him. Come here, Kate.

Roger sits down on a sofa and slaps his thigh.

(You want me to sit on your lap?)

Normally I'd refuse, but it's better to follow Roger's lead to avoid scrutiny of the host. After climbing onto Roger's lap, I found my face really close to his.

(He's really close... Wait, why am I so aware of it? This is a mission, this is a mission.)

As I was thinking about this, Roger's large hand caressed my hair.

Roger: I thought I'd be spending tonight with another woman, but I still think you're pretty cute, Kate.

Surprised by that cringy line, I whispered to Roger

Kate: Roger, are you drunk by any chance?

Roger: Dummy, I'm acting. You gotta pretend like you're crazy in love. Still, can't you look more erotic?

Kate: Easy for you to say...

Roger: Our beloved Fairytale Keeper's a real handful. This is special service just for you. I'll take good care of you so open your mouth.

I had my doubts but parted my lips,

Kate: Ack

Roger's fingers slipped into my mouth.

(He's done this before...)

He rubbed my soft palate and pinched my tongue...Wet sounds were made as my mouth was violated by a certain mass. The movement of his fingers was obscene, as if trying to drag "something" out from me. It was embarrassing and I hated it, but I felt an aching desire in the pit of my stomach at the naughtiness of it-

Kate: Mmph

Roger: Haha, that's an adorable face you got there. A~ah, so wet.

Roger pulled his fingers out and showed them to me. They were wet from me.

Roger: What do you want me to do with these fingers you got wet? Play with the usual way?

Kate: The usual way...I've never, I don't...

Roger: It's often done. Fingers down your panties, cumming all over.

(Wha-!)

Roger: Your face is red. What're you imagining, little lady?

When he whispered in my ear as if to get me to imagine it, I reflexively pushed back on Roger's chest- A white bag [weed] fell out from Roger's chest.

Kate and Roger: Ah...

~~~

I stormed out of the lewd room and made my way toward the exit.

(I can't believe Roger had the evidence on him the whole time!)

Roger chases after me with a smile as I walk off in anger.

Roger: It's true that the host was suspicious of us, you know?

Kate: If you had the evidence we could've just left.

Roger: Kate, that's a dead end.

Kate: Eh? Ah...

The moment I stopped, Roger trapped me against a wall. Our eyes met when I looked up.

Roger: We didn't leave sooner because I wanted an excuse to touch you. What would you do if I said something like that?

Kate: Huh?

(Don't fall for it. He's just teasing and toying with me again.) (I think...)

The eyes staring back at me were so serious...I couldn't throw out the possibility.

Kate: If that's true then...I'll try my best to forgive you. Maybe.

Roger (eyes wide): ... Pfft, hahaha! You're too cute and innocent, you know. Be careful you don't get eaten up by some strange guy.

Seeing Roger tear up from laughter makes my cheeks heat up as I realize that he's teasing me again.

(D-Damn it!)

Roger: Ah, one more thing...If you really want me to love you properly, just say the word. I'll dote on you so much that you'd think it's just for fun. You won't think of any other man but me.

Kate: I'm good.

Roger: Yeah, yeah, what a killjoy. Come on, let's go home holding hands.

Kate: I'll pass on that too.

Roger: Hmm?

I definitely didn't want Roger to notice just how much my heart was pounding when I said that.

[spectral-musette]

belatedly, for the obitine week prompt “armor”:

I’m not sure if there’s canon (or legends content) about this, but I’m pretty sure somewhere in Mandalorian culture there should be rituals involved in taking off your lover/spouse/partner’s armor...

(ficlet under the cut, ~800 words)

           Satine stretched for her bedside table, searching in the darkness for her comm unit to check the time.

           The viewport, just visible through the sheer curtains shrouding the bed, showed the otherworldly glow of hyperspace, where there was neither morning nor night. She squinted at the screen and quickly dimmed it as soon as it lit.

           Sundari time was early morning yet, about an hour before she was usually up to check messages and make tea. Coruscant time was the small hours, which explained why Obi-Wan was still deeply asleep next to her.

           She indulged in a long look at him. He’d pushed aside the coverlet at some point. One hand rested against his bare chest, the other was stretched towards her. She wanted to brush soft kisses against his eyelids, his freckled nose, the swell of his lower lip.

           Instead, she pushed herself up, swinging her feet to the floor and kicking through the jumble of clothing until she found her chemise.

           It was an enticing garment, silken, slightly sheer, and elegantly draping. She felt her cheeks heat at little, both in slight embarrassment at her own calculated purpose in choosing it, and at the memory of the enthusiastic response it had elicited. In addition to its other attractions, it was quite comfortable, soft and just the right weight for the comfortable warmth of her bedchamber on the Coronet.

           She knelt on the floor, still sorting through the discarded garments. At the bottom of the heap, her fingers met a cold, hard surface, and she couldn’t help making a disdainful face as she extracted and studied the armor piece.

           She pushed aside her feelings of self consciousness and the little knot of strange, primal dread that always accompanied her performance of her version of this ritual, and she splayed her palm flat against Obi-Wan’s breastplate.

             Sacred plate that shields the heart of my beloved, remain whole and strong until the next time I unfasten you to show him my love.

             She bent and kissed it, then turned it a little toward the dimmed wall sconce to check for any stray traces of her lip rouge (though she expected it was long since smudged off her mouth) on the bright white surface.

           “Satine.”

           Obi-Wan’s voice startled her, and she fumbled the breastplate, dropping it onto her lap.

           He had rolled over onto his side, his expression quizzical and his hair adorably tousled, falling over his forehead in thick, heavy waves.

           Caught in the act, she heaved a sigh and reluctantly confessed. “It’s an old Mandalorian custom, blessing the armor of a loved one.”

           He smiled a little, affectionate and gentle, and sat up, holding out a hand to her.

           She set aside the armor and went to him, climbing back onto the bed and stretching out next to him, only the cool, delicate silk of the chemise between them.

           “Thank you,” he said gravely.

           “You don’t have to pretend to believe in it,” she chided. “I’m not sure I believe in it.”

           “But you do it,” he pointed out, smoothing her hair tenderly off her forehead.

           “Well, it’s worked so far,” she said, smiling a little as she traced a fingertip lightly through his chest hair. “At this point, it doesn’t feel right to risk it.”

           “Do you give this blessing every time we’re together?”

           “Every time you have the nerve to wear that awful armor when you come to me,” she retorted, quirking a smile at him.

           He ran a hand over his beard thoughtfully. “Is that how it’s meant to be done? In secret, while your loved one sleeps?”

           She shook her head. “Nothing about what I have been doing is really what should be done.”

           The armor should be beskar.

           The lover should be a Mandalorian warrior, and most certainly not a Jedi.

           And the blessing should be bestowed when the armor is removed, each piece set aside with reverence, not the impatient way she peels him out of his, like a hungry seabird with a shellfish. Though that last part, she would expect, tended to be often modified, knowing Mandalorians.

           “Now that I know, can we do it properly?” He sounded eager to please her.

           She shook her head, smiling at him fondly. “If you like, I would love you to be part of it,” she said. “But it can’t ever be quite proper, I’m afraid.”

           He took her hand, kissing her fingertips and giving her a melancholy smile, acknowledging the difference in creed that had always been an impediment to their attempts to be part of each other’s lives.

           “My ancestors will never forgive me. Not when you wear that plastoid rubbish you choose to call armor.”

           He laughed, pulling her into a long kiss.