#blake headers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

corallapis · 2 years ago

Note

I don't know whether you're still fascinated by Prince George, the Duke of Kent anymore, but you cannot imagine how relieved I was to find your blog and discover that I wasn't the only person who had P.G. on my mind. Bit of a mess as a person, but very interesting

i'd like to direct you to the diary entry chips channon wrote on the 6th september 1942:

A lovely sunny morning. I woke refreshed, replenished with energy. I have been thinking about the poor Duke of Kent: his death is a loss to me and to the country. Nobody knew him better than I of recent years — particularly the past six or seven . . . Fundamentally frivolous, he was fitful, fretful, both moody and unreliable in small matters. Yet his painstaking kindness was immense and equalled, even surpassed, by his surface treachery. For he could be very treacherous: no man was ever more disloyal in conversation, and no man was a better friend in action, or at heart (this curious and often disturbing contradiction in his complex character was the reverse of the habits of the Prince of Wales who always ferociously resented conventional condemnation, or even gossip, about his friends yet was never known to do anything for anyone except the reigning favourite, whether it was Freda Dudley Ward, Audrey Field, Fruity Metcalfe, or Wallis Simpson). But it was this puzzling trait to the Duke of Kent's Franco-Semitic make-up which first stopped people from loving him wholeheartedly, for as one began to be fond of him, he would do, or say, or commit some small little act that chilled one, and again, just as one began to mistrust or be indifferent to him, he would be so thoughtful, affectionate and disarming that one would genuinely like him more . . . unstable, sensitive, volatile he had beauty, wit and worldly wisdom as well as considerable culture. He read, collected and was a musician, but only people were of real importance to him. He was good and gracious with people, and avidly interested in their morals, incomes, food and vices. (He happened to sit next to old Mr Bland, the Guinnesses' trustee, at a banquet in Swansea and spent an hour trying to find out my exact income.)

Fair, with the extravagantly youthful figure and looks common to the male members of the royal family, he always looked and seemed ten years younger than he was. The Duchess and he must have been the most beautiful and dazzling couple in the world! It was only recently that deep lines began to show under his prominent turquoise eyes. And his tics nerveaux had grown: his exquisite hands knitted incessantly as he talked quickly and irritably. He was plagued by boredoms. His walk was an impressive shuffle. Being an ardent sun-worshipper, his small and trim figure was always bronzed and bleached. Naked he was magnificently gold and copper. And his head — his fair, untidy hair in the rain! — was aristocratic, even fin-de-race . . . He liked jewels, bibelots, snuffboxes, expensive china, Georgian furniture, pictures and les élégances. But more than the actual objets de vertu he collected, he liked buying, selling and exchanging them. His life was a long tussle with antiquaries; for he was a dealer at heart. He was a gourmet, even a connoisseur of food, and always personally supervised every domestic detail of his establishments. Alone of the royal family he had social sense and a flair for society and entertaining. His parties were always enjoyable and usually brilliant . . . In his off-time he would garden relentlessly, or he curled up for hours in the sun! Extremely soigné he was nonetheless unsuccessfully dressed.

Of course he had a secret of which he rarely talked and was ashamed. I was long aware of it. Later his conscience, too, tormented him about his eldest brother, whom he treated very shabbily, indeed. To lull his conscience he ended by hating the Duke of Windsor who was au fond the only person he cared for deeply. (He was even jealous of my spasmodic intimacy with Edward VIII who occasionally telephoned to me.) In his cups the Duke talked of little else, and it was a mixture of abuse and love and Schadenfreude. Latterly he was also extremely unhappy and haunted by the tragic position of Prince Paul, his brother-in-law. Except for Queen Mary, who admired him, and to whom he was devoted, the Duke had no feelings for his other relatives. From her he inherited his love of collecting, his artistic bent and his methodical habits of correspondence. He liked writing letters, which he always answered punctually, in his beautiful handwriting. He actively disliked the King, and more particularly the Queen. He said that they were little more than civic functionaries now and was sarcastic about her to anyone who would listen, calling her 'grinning Liz'. Although since the abdication crisis they were rather more intimate, he secretly resented her non-royal origin. Once he said to me, 'Do you know what Bertie does with his money? Why, he invests it!', and his high voice trembled with scorn. The Gloucesters, he thought, hopeless bores, and his sister, the Princess Royal, a somewhat pathetic turn. The more remote relatives were a constant target for his gibes and eighteenth-century malice . . . . He was flirtatious in manner and in his conversation which was always good and stimulating. He could never hide his deep and infinite desire to please and to carp. Probably he felt frustrated and cramped in his position. He hated Alec Hardinge, whom he accused of trying to poison the King against him. He said that he was not given sufficient scope for his latent and many gifts . . . He proposed himself recently to lunch with old and dying Mrs Greville (I was present). Next day he attacked her soundly in my hearing, and did not add that he had sent her a pair of white satin cushions on that very morning, which I knew to be a fact. He had many weaknesses and peculiarities: he drank to excess during the long pre-dinner interval, usually gin and fruit mixtures; at dinner and afterwards he drank nothing at all. He gave a somewhat effeminate impression by his furious knitting, his too many bracelets and rings. He was wildly extravagant in his purchases, lavish with his presents, but shrewd with finance generally. Often he exchanged or sold or passed on presents that had been given to him. Sometimes he would select his Xmas presents and send me the bill afterwards: it was the safest course.

Devoted to his attractive children, particularly to little Alexandra, to his dogs, he was often embarrassingly querulous — less so, of late — with the Duchess who idolised him. His brain was quicker, better-informed and more instinctive than hers. Somewhat out of focus for this prosaic age, he was nevertheless extremely popular and had a Perrault quality for the people at large which is lacking in other members of his family. The Duke's sad and dramatic death is the end of an epoch: London and life will be more colourless and less gay without him, that elaborate, eager, excited elf. And I shall miss his gossip, his maniacal laugh, his rich presents, his haunting personality, coral and lapis.

#so. my icon is him my header is blake ritson's portrayal of him my url is in reference to him...#loathe as i am to admit to being a bit insane abt a member of the brf... uh. yeah.#🕰️

22 notes · View notes

pedroscurls · 3 months ago

Note

We all know Hugh HATES to be late at events/dinner or people who are..but what if his girl is a little needy 🥵 and "nervous" 😩 about what to wear?

late to the party (one-shot)

summary: possibly already late to ryan and blake's party, hugh becomes just slightly annoyed when you can't decide what to wear... and when he realizes that you're doing it on purpose, he only knows one way to make sure you don't do it again. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader content warning: smut (18+, mdni), quickie, dom!hugh, light spanking, dirty talk, fingering, doggy style (against the wall), unprotected p in v (be safe folks!), creampie (oopsies!), no use of y/n. word count: 1.8k a/n: once again, this one is really late to post so i'm sorry. i'm slowly catching up with all my requests! to the anon that requested this, i hope you enjoyed it! (btw - i'm gonna try something new with these headers moving forward, it takes so long to pick photos and figured just choosing one hugh pic is better lol). as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

“Baby, come on. We’re already late,” Hugh calls out, straightening out his tie. He then glances at his watch and when he sees that it’s already past the time that you both needed to be at Ryan and Blake’s house, he grabs his phone to send a text to them.

You’re standing in the closet, dressed in a matching black lace bra and thong. You bite your lower lip at Hugh’s voice; you know he’s always so punctual and hates it when other people – including himself – are late.

“I know! I can’t figure out what to wear.” You can hear Hugh’s footsteps approach you, can hear him let out a quiet sigh of frustration. You have your arms crossed over your chest, a thoughtful look on your features by the time he enters the closet with you. He has his hands in his pockets and when you turn to look over at him, his brows are furrowed together and his lips in a straight line.

“That black one is nice,” he says, nodding his chin to the black dress you’re standing in front of. “Come on, baby. You know I hate being late.”

“Well, we’re already late and I don’t know what to wear.”

He sighs again. “Whatever you decide to wear will look good on you, love. Just put on that black one and let’s go.”

You bite your lower lip and shake your head, turning your back to him as you walk further into the closet to look at the other dresses you have hanging. You can hear the tapping of his foot and you’re trying to hold back the smile on your lips.

“Baby…” He walks after you and reaches for the dress he pointed out. It’s a black dress with subtle floral print, a ruffled square neckline and sheer short sleeves. It has an empire waist that he knows will fit perfectly to each curve as the bottom of your dress flows out. It looks like the length will stop right at your shins and he walks towards you with the dress in hand. “I’ll pick for you. It’s this one.”

When you turn around to face him, you bite your lower lip and look up at him. You see his eyes deviate to your body, a glimmer of desire flashing through his eyes before he remembers that you’re both already late for the party.

“I don’t know about that one though…” you say with a sigh, but the corner of your lips turn upwards and Hugh narrows his eyes.

“Are you–” He hangs the dress back up on the clothesline and then steps closer to you. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

“What? No!”

Hugh narrows his eyes even further and moves a hand to your hip, pushing you further into the closet until your back gently hits the wall. He reaches out with one hand and places it next to your head, leaning down until his nose is touching yours.

“Looks to me like you’re doing this on purpose.”

“I just– I just don’t know what to wear!” you lie, biting the inside of your cheek as you feel the hand on your hip tighten.

“Sounds like you’re lying, baby.” Hugh brushes his lips against yours, hearing your breath catch in your throat as you gasp quietly. “If I reach down here,” he whispers, moving his hand from your hip to between your legs, cupping your sex instantly. “And if I feel that you’re wet…” he continues, moving the strip of your thong to the side as he runs the tip of his finger along the length of your sex. “Oh, you are wet. How long have you been wet, huh?”

“Hugh…” you whimper, reaching out to rest your hands on his suit jacket but careful not to wrinkle the clothes he’s wearing. After all, you both still need to attend Ryan and Blake’s party.

“So, let me ask again… Did you intentionally make us late?”

You shake your head and he clicks his tongue, thrusting two fingers deep inside of you. Your arousal makes it easy for him to push his digits into your tight heat and when he feels you about to grip onto his suit jacket, he uses his free hand and grips your wrists in one hand, gently placing them above your head.

“Oh baby,” he growls. “Don’t lie to me.” Hugh pushes his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace, knowing that it won’t take long for you to reach your climax, but just as he feels your walls begin to clench, he pulls his hand away.

“Okay!” you exclaim, trying to squirm against him, hips pushing forward and off the wall to chase his fingers. “I did it on purpose… I saw you in that suit and I just– I need you. I knew that the only way I could get what I need was if I made us late and–”

Hugh growls and releases your hands to grip your hips, roughly turning you around. He watches you place your hands on the wall in front of you, bracing yourself once he pulls your hips closer to him. You can hear him undo his belt and his zipper. You look over your shoulder to watch him drop his suit pants and boxer briefs down his legs.

He tugs your thong down your legs and you gasp, feeling his warm and leaking tip press against your opening.

“Hugh, wait, I–” He pushes his hips forward, filling you to the brim in one thrust. He’s so deep that it literally takes your breath away. You gasp, feeling him pull out to his tip until he thrusts back into you.

“This what you wanted?” Hugh growls, using one hand to grip your hip tightly as he brings his other hand down to connect with your backside. It leaves a red imprint, the sound of the spank echoing throughout the closet. It catches you off guard and your walls clench at the sensation.

“Y– Yes!” you answer, pushing back against him as he delivers another sharp slap to your ass. He lets out a loud groan, ceasing his movements only to watch you push back against him. He looks down at your bodies, the sight of his glistening manhood appearing and disappearing with each of your movements.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “That’s it, take what you need…” Hugh releases his hold on your hip to hold the bottom of his dress shirt and tie upwards and away from where you’re both connected. He certainly doesn’t want to have to change, especially since you’re both already so late.

Hugh feels your walls begin to clench around him, your walls sliding along every inch of his throbbing length. He pushes his hips forward, feeling himself delve even deeper within your depths.

“Hugh! Oh god– I’m close,” you gasp, bracing your hands on the wall as Hugh grips your hip with his free hand and begins to slam into you repeatedly. You can feel each vein on his manhood, can feel him throbbing within your depths and it only urges you closer and closer to reach your high.

“My naughty girl,” Hugh groans, the sounds of skin slapping against one another mixes in with your continuous moans. He shuts his eyes, your walls continuing to tremble and clench around him. His thrusts become more erratic as he feels the tightness build in the pit of his stomach.

“Gonna fill you up,” Hugh growls, delivering another slap across your ass. “Gonna have me dripping out of you the entire fucking night.”

“Hugh!” you push back against him roughly, your walls clenching around him as your walls tremble. You’re so wet, and already so sensitive as you reach your orgasm.

Hugh groans, picking up the pace with his thrusts until he slams into you with a loud grunt. He paints your walls with his release, hips stuttering. You can feel his come fill you up and when he does pull out slowly, you look down between your legs and see thick drops of his spend trickle down your legs.

Hugh licks his lower lip and looks down, a broad smirk lining his lips. “You gonna put on that dress now?”

“Can you give me a minute?” you ask, turning to look over your shoulder with a small smile.

“Oh, I’ve given you plenty.”

You let out a quiet giggle and then watch him tuck himself back into his pants as he makes himself presentable again. You watch his eyes deviate between your legs before he leaves the closer only to come back with a wet and warm towel to wipe the release from between your legs.

Hugh then helps slide your thong back up your body and you bite your lower lip when you turn around to face him. You can feel him so deep inside of you and it makes you smile, almost makes you yearn for another round with him but you know that you should really be getting to Ryan and Blake’s party.

You grab the same dress he had picked out for you and slide it on, turning around so that Hugh can zip you up. Once he does, he places a gentle kiss on the side of your neck and looks at you from top to bottom.

“Beautiful,” he smiles.

“I’m gonna be feeling you all night,” you admit.

“Good, and just so we’re both clear,” Hugh says, gently gripping your chin as he looks into your eyes. “Your punishment isn’t over.”

“Punishment?” you clear your throat, excitement bubbling in your chest.

“Oh yeah,” he grins. “You’re not going to get away with making us late that easily.”

“Can we– Can we skip the party and just get straight into it?”

Hugh narrows his eyes. “Such a naughty girl,” he growls.

“Is that a yes?”

“No,” Hugh chuckles. “Now, let’s go. Consider having to wait as part of your punishment.”

“Yes, sir.” you respond, biting your lip.

Hugh growls and releases his hold on your chin as he takes a step back to look at you from top to bottom. “If we don’t leave now, I’m going to throw you over my knee and–”

“Okay!” you interrupt, squeezing your legs together. “Let’s go before I tie you to the bed.” You don’t give him a chance to respond because you’re already walking out of the closet.

Hugh chuckles and shakes his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket to see a response from Ryan who had replied to tell him that the party wasn’t going to start for another hour. Hugh shakes his head and runs out after you, seeing you with a knowing smirk on your lips.

“Oh, you planned all of this.” Hugh points out.

You nod and then reach out to gently grip the end of his tie. “Do you really think I’d make us late for the party, Hugh?”

“On the bed. Now.”

“But what if we’re late–”

“We have an hour,” Hugh growls. “And I ain’t done with you yet.”

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fanfiction #real person fic #real person fiction #rpf #hugh jackman requests #hugh jackman oneshot #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x fem!reader #hugh jackman x f!reader #hugh jackman x female reader #story: late to the party

451 notes · View notes