#hallmark queens

[tropesofhallmark]

Happy Birthday to Bethany Joy Lenz and Lindy Booth!!

[rlyehtaxidermist]

futurefic that originally seems like it's hoshichen slowburn but they actually get back together pretty quickly because hoshiguma has every single communication skill so the rest of it is dedicated to them trying to figure out how ch'en could spend twenty years in the wilderness but on average still on average make more relationship progress than linswire in the same city the whole time

[imhereonthekitchenfloor]

This girl I know from high school has a life like she is in a hallmark movie. What do you mean your high school sweetheart husband went into the military then survivied cancer. And you two to have two miracle babies only but one of them now has a potentionally fatal medical condition. And the thing that always saves your family is your prayers. Like how is this not a movie plot??

[unhelpfultarot]

King of Swords and Queen of Pentacles

It’s the heartwarming story of a solitary intellectual who meets a down-to-earth nurturer and learns the true meaning of home.

[believingispowerfulmagic]

A Hallmark Christmas

Summary: Regina struggles with her holiday spirit in the aftermath of Season 5 and finds comfort in the made-for-TV movies she used to mock. One night she makes a wish on a Christmas star for her own Hallmark Christmas movie happy ending and finds herself getting seven…or maybe more? [OQ AU]

Prologue: FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Chapter 2: Christmas CEO

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt:

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Regina groaned as she reached out, silencing her alarm. She stretched as she sat up, looking around her bedroom. Glancing down at her bed, her heart sank. There was no sign that Robin was suddenly alive and able to be with her again.

Maybe she should've been more specific when she made that wish.

She climbed out of bed and went about her morning routine, pleased to find that her wardrobe looked much like hers. Regina picked out a black pantsuit with a white jacket. After putting on her outfit, she went to do her hair and makeup – only to once again discover her hair looked perfect despite the fact she just woke up and she appeared to be wearing makeup. Her heart sank as she realized she was now in a movie and based on the wardrobe, it was different. But which one was it?

Regina brushed her hair and it went up into a French twist with her makeup also now looking more professional than natural. She stood and took a breath as she opened the door, wondering what she would encounter on the other side.

The inn was gone and instead she appeared to be in a rather spacious apartment, judging by the layout. She entered her open plan living room and kitchen, which was done in all whites and held little decorations. Was she still in a Christmas movie? If so, why didn't it feel very Christmassy?

"Good morning, Aunt Regina," a familiar voice said, drawing her attention to the kitchen. Henry and Roland sat at the table there, eating cereal. It was like something from one of her dreams – her son and Robin's spending time together like brothers.

Though in her dreams, her son didn't call her Aunt Regina.

"Good morning, you two," she said, approaching them. "I see you helped yourself to breakfast."

Henry nodded. "We know how busy you are with your company and the merger with Gold's Toys."

"Right," she said, recalling the movie she watched with Henry before falling asleep and believing the wish had placed her into that one.

"Are we going to see Robin today?" Roland asked, eyes wide. "I really like him."

Henry nodded. "Me too."

"Why did you and Robin stop being friends, Aunt Regina?" Roland asked her, leaning forward.

"Oh," she said, still not sure what movie she was in and therefore didn't know if she could answer.

Henry tilted his head. "Did it have to do with your toy company?"

"The toy company," she repeated, now certain she was now living out the movie she and Henry had watched, Christmas CEO. In it, the main character had started a toy company with her best friend who was obviously in love with her but they had become estranged over different priorities for the business. She had been obsessed with profits and stats and other data while he had wanted to focus on the creativity and fun of making toys.

At least the characters better fit her and Robin this time around, though she wasn't too fond of how the plot had played out for her character. Still, Chris had gotten a happy ending and Regina looked forward to that.

"Yes," she finally said. "We had different ideas for how to run our company and he just walked away."

"And you didn't try to contact him again until now?" Henry asked, frowning. "Why?"

She checked her watch, relieved when she saw the time. "It's time for you two to get to school. Finish up your cereal and then we'll get going, okay?"

Roland nodded but Henry scowled. He gave her a look that she knew meant he would get his answers one way or the other before turning back to his bowl to finish his breakfast. She let out a little sigh of relief though she feared she had just put off the inevitable. But at least it gave her more time to adjust to her new surroundings and the new plot she had been thrust into now.

They soon were bundled up and backpacks were donned before Regina ushered them out of the apartment. When they left the building, Storybrooke had been turned into a major metropolitan area and she saw skyscrapers and other tall buildings all around her. Cars filled the streets as people bundled up in coats walked quickly along the sidewalks. She had never really considered herself a city person and she felt rather uncomfortable in this strange new version of Storybrooke. Hopefully they would get through this one quickly so she could get back to her quiet little town.

Well, maybe not too quickly. She did want to cherish the time she spent with any version of Robin, no matter what.

"Here we are, Aunt Regina," Henry said, interrupting her thoughts. She found they were standing in front of a school building and her "nephews" were waiting for her to do or say something.

"Right," she said, pulling each boy in for a hug. She relished holding them in her arms for as long as she reasonably could before releasing them. "Have a good day. I'll see you later."

They nodded and Henry took Roland's hand as they joined the other kids streaming into the school building. She watched them and they paused at the door, waving to her. Regina waved back before they disappeared into the building. Taking a deep breath, she started to walk away and hoped her feet knew the way to her office building because her mind certainly didn't.

She would manage this movie just like the last one and get another happy ending. That would make all the awkwardness worth it.

[wonder-worker]

What are your favorite Plantagenet-related novels, and why do you love them?

Hi! I'm so sorry, I don't read lots of medieval English historical fiction, and the ones I have read are pretty terrible (three guesses which).

Once again: sorry! If anyone else has any recommendations, feel free to share them!

[the-pale-goddess]

Ahhh Hilde!! Your new profile picture looks so good!! If you don't mind, please drop the full view 😁💕

Love you ❤️❤️❤️

M, you have no idea how happy I was to see your message 🥹❤️ Anything for you!

The edit sucks in full view, but oh well—JL sitting on a giant ornament matches the vibe of DGW’s Christmas photoshoot and I felt obliged to sprinkle my blog with their festive dorkiness kdbdkbdkb ✨

Thank you for noticing this silly thing! Love you so much ❤️❤️❤️

[hallmark-movie-fanatics]

July 8

10am/9c - A Christmas Carousel (2020)

12pm/11c - One Royal Christmas (2020)

2pm/1pm - The Royal Nanny (2022)

4pm/3c - A Royal Christmas (2014)

6pm/5c - Crown for Christmas (2015)

8pm/7c - A Royal Christmas Crush (2023)

10pm/7c A Royal Queens Christmas (2021)

[mugiwara-lucy]

Let this be a lesson to the uninformed:

Do NOT fuck with Haley James Scott!!!!! 😬 🤬

[calllen]

When you play the game of homes you win or you D.I.Y.

A toast to Queen Thea!💁‍♀️🥂👑

[swordgrace]

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ gwayne hightower x wife!reader.

SYNOPSIS: After your husband returns from Rook’s Rest, mostly unscathed, you are quick to indulge him to make up for lost time.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anon.

{ WORD COUNT: 5.1K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), first time writing for gwayne, please be gentle, gwayne is very cunt-struck in this fic, sub-ish gwayne, armor removal descriptions, mild wound tending, making out, both of them are desperate, unprotected sex, p in v sex, bathtub sex, riding (fem on top), handjob, oral sex (fem!rec), hair pulling kink, choking, breast play, cockwarming at the end

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: I absolutely adore Gwayne and I felt like this was a really good way to warm up and get used to writing for him! I’m really glad that I’m seeing more Gwayne requests, this was ridiculously fun to write! ❤️ Thank you all so much for your love & continued support, it means more to me than you realize!

At the precipice of the gates of the Red Keep, emerald banners flew, embellished with the golden sigil of a dragon — the King’s dragon, laying half-deceased in the Dragonpit and the King himself, ripped apart and scorched beyond recognition.

A horrible thing, to be sure — your sister-by-law had become miserable and despondent when the news of her son’s maiming reached her. Whatever comfort you attempted to offer had been dismissed, but it was commonplace, not that you minded. You understood her desire to be left alone.

It was a cloudy, dismal day, marked by the overcast of gray and gloom, a dour portrait that only seemed furthered by the King’s potential demise. Rook’s Rest was outwardly displayed as some great victory, a vanquishing of Queen Rhaenyra’s forces and her allies.

Yet, the countenance of your Knight Hightower told a different tale altogether.

Becoming betrothed and wed to Ser Gwayne Hightower had been the hallmark of your family’s importance, a union of prosperity to further your standing in the realm, but it meant more to you than that. Gwayne had grown on you with the passage of time, witty and sharp-tongued, a proficient fighter with a calm rationality.

As the gates swung open to welcome those survivors of Rook’s Rest home, you desperately searched for the velveteen tabard and copper mane, wringing your hands together beside the Queen Dowager.

His armor glistened beneath the sheen of clouds, dingy and speckled with cruor and mud, his visage stained in dried crimson and soot. He was so comely and debonair, yet he seemed rather sour when he dismounted from his gelding, swiftly tugging his helmet aside.

Your feet moved before you could summon any logical thought, rushing to him across the Keep’s courtyard and into his expectant embrace. Plate-clad arms held you close as he inhaled a gust of your scent, marigold and honey, just as saccharine as he remembered. “My love.” He sighed, loud enough for only you to hear.

Before you could cage him within your own embrace, he let out a strenuous grunt, attempting to be subtle with the painful noise. “Husband,” It delighted you to see his face again — it had been weeks. “Are you hurt?” You fussed, brows knitting together as you inspected him for any critical wounds.

Gwayne bore the scars of battle beneath, save for the cut upon his lip and bruising around his cheek. His body was undeniably sore, riddled in bruises from falling, muscles aching from wielding a blade and weeks on the road. “You needn’t worry yourself into a stupor, dearest. I will survive.” He sighed.

“You do understand that it will only prompt me to worry more, instead of less.” Begrudgingly, Gwayne decided to let you dote over him — he quite enjoyed the attention whenever you did. “Perhaps we shall draw you a bath, and a proper meal to accompany it.”

Relief settled within his features, knowing that he would be well cared-for. He counted on you to ensure that he was pampered after every conflict — it was a habit you had developed. Despite the dull throbbing that consumed his body, he offered his forearm to you, delighted to have you at his side again.

He was rather captivating in his armor, shimmering and broad, a true Knight of the realm. Despite the tarnish and wear of his plate, he still seemed flawless, as if he were incapable of possessing any imperfections.

The Red Keep loomed overhead as many soldiers fought to lick their wounds, much of it from the angry bite of dragonfire. Gwayne was fortunate to remain mostly unscathed, aside from his pride. He could not stomach another day with Criston Cole, whose overconfidence often felt like a burden.

The sight of men being obliterated into nothing more than ash and bone was a harrowing sight, one that he desperately attempted to purge from his memory. It was good to be here with you, holding you again, giving him a worthwhile distraction.

Gwayne sought the solace and sanctity of your shared chambers within the Keep, but he missed Oldtown above all. Your marital quarters there far outweighed those here in the capital in terms of lavishness and comfort, but whatever lodgings offered to him now, he wouldn’t refuse. A feathered bed and pillow seemed heavenly after weeks of sleeping on rock and coarse rags.

Pale cerulean hues appraised you with a subtle hunger, finding the supple curves of your physique through the sage silk of your gown. Once you were in private corridors, he made his desire known, manifesting it into reality. “I must say, you look rather fetching, my dear.” Gwayne hummed. “Did you know of my return?”

“Perhaps,” Countering his flirtation with a teasing smile of your own, you gently nudged past the set of heavy oaken doors, making your way into your chambers. The servants there acted at your beck and call as you had them prepare a bath. “Perhaps I simply prefer to wear lavish silks each day.”

With a bemused scoff, Gwayne ogled you through half-lidded eyes, and as soon as the doors slammed shut behind you, he coaxed you in for a kiss. His mouth tasted like the bitter sting of copper coupled with brimstone and woodland musk, but you didn’t care in the slightest.

He cared little for prying eyes, desiring to claim your mouth for himself — it had been far too long. Passion and want were interlaced into each stroke of his lips, and you matched his caliber of desire, palms seeking to perch themselves atop his chest.

Gwayne exhaled, savoring your saccharine taste, the insatiable warmth of your pliant mouth. “I missed your mouth, wife,” He groaned, pearlescent teeth greedily capturing your lower lip as he caged you in against him. His blood ran hot even still, the adrenaline of war still lingering, yet you spurred him on. “Perfect as ever.”

“Gwayne,” His eagerness surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome, not in the slightest. “What about the servants?” You mumbled, skin crawling with heat as he insistently tugged you closer, auburn brows furrowing together.

A twinge of desperation followed from your Knight-husband, watching as he palmed at the swell of your hips. “What of them?” He murmured, caring little for the wandering eyes of handmaidens. They were like a flock of hens, squabbling after any scrap of gossip. “Surely, you would not deny your husband a kiss.”

“I would, if my husband vexed me.” You were able to both get a rise out of Gwayne and charm him all in the same turn, turning your head at the last moment. His mouth fell against your cheek instead, much to his disgruntlement. You would make it up to him.

Once the servants finished pouring a bath for your husband and preparing a hearty meal that transcended field rations, Gwayne felt as if he could relax, the tension in his shoulders unfurling. He stepped toward the washroom, unceremoniously falling against one of the velvet-cushioned chairs.

The wooden frame groaned in protest, rickety and barely able to bear the weight of his armor. He tossed his head back, finally able to breathe and relax within the sanctuary of his own quarters. No muddied tent above his head or the swaying of trees, no rancorous men, and no Dornishmen to tell him what to do.

With a steady exhale, he began to unfasten the innumerable amount of buckles and straps upon his armor, beginning with his gauntlets and vambraces. His brow remained creased with concentration, strands of copper stresses glued to his temples, lip curled with inklings of mild irritation.

“Would you like help?” You inquired, knowing that Gwayne would be too stubborn to accept it, but you were pleasantly surprised when he became subservient. With an indignant huff, he sat back, sluggishly offering you his body with a low hum.

“If you feel that you must toil over my armor, I suppose you can lend your assistance,” Gwayne prattled on, though his breath hitched slightly when you neared him, standing in between his legs as you went about freeing him. Cerulean hues traced over your form, desperate to see your naked flesh. “Hm.”

His quick tongue and eloquent speech once irked you, but now, it was simply him. You rather enjoyed when he regaled you with his flowery words and streak of arrogance, a haughtiness that seemed to run predominantly within his family.

As you set yourself to the task of unburdening your husband from his armor, Gwayne busied himself with ogling your bosom, jaw tense and tight. A warm coil formed within his stomach, the onset of arousal as he carefully admired you, his enchanting paramour.

Unclasping his cloak, Gwayne shifted enough for you to remove it, neatly folding it into a rectangle as you draped it over the arm of the lounge. “I missed you,” You confessed, knowing that his ego would momentarily swell tenfold — it was simply in his nature. “These past few weeks were rather tense, wrought with strife.”

“Allow me to guess,” Gwayne guffawed, a smirk toying at either corner of his mouth. “Something to do with my nephews, or perhaps my sister.” Admittedly, you were lonely without him — the capital didn’t suit you, nor did any of its hostile inhabitants.

A soft huff of amusement escaped you, but you happened to shake your head, lifting a wet cloth to his lips as you dabbed at the dried blood. “One would think,” With an amiable smile, you rid your husband’s stunning visage of cruor. “I yearned to have my husband by my side, that is all.”

Gwayne’s gaze became soft in your presence, fluttering across your captivating features and gentle smile. Knowing that you missed him happened to evoke some semblance of delight, filling him with a familiar warmth that eased his aching bones.

“I am here now,” He assured, reaching for your hand as he cradled it within his own. Rough lips pressed themselves against your knuckles. “You shall have your husband for as long as you please.”

Stepping inward, your lips moved to bury themselves into his disheveled tresses, presenting him with a kiss. You always feared Gwayne riding off to fight in a war, coming to terms with the painful idea of never seeing him again. “As long as I please? That is forever, then. Cole cannot take you from me again.”

You were an excellent wife, perhaps the best — he had gotten incredibly lucky with you, a rare jewel, resplendent and glittering all for him, something to covet. He watched as you unfastened the leather straps with haste, placing each piece down atop the footlocker at your side.

Gwayne winced when you happened to tug just a touch too hard, body wracked with aches and pains, pale flesh flourishing with the wounds of war. “Gently, wife. I am still needed in one piece.” A low grunt tore past his lips, one that happened to come across as a suppression of mild agony.

Perplexed, you reached for the collar of his gorget, attempting to be as gentle as possible in its removal. It was difficult, given how much he wore — plate and chainmail weren’t exactly comfortable to wear. The relief he felt was visible, scrawled into his handsome features as he reclined into the cushions.

Broad-shouldered and corded with taut muscle, you often found Gwayne to be beautiful in some ways, painfully handsome to behold. When you’d gotten rid of his upper armor, you noticed the battlefield of flourishing bruises littered across his flesh.

The somber, softened stare you’d given him happened to temper his tongue, copper brows beginning to slack, visage contorting into more of a concerned expression. “They do not feel as horrid as they look,” He assured, smoothing his palm across the swell of your hip. “Such is the nature of battle.”

With a tender hand, you lightly traced your fingertips over each bruise, some angered and dark, others lighter in complexion. Gwayne shuddered at your delicate embrace, bluish hues glued to where your hand traveled — over his throat, toward his collarbone, and then cascading across his chest.

“Where does it hurt, my love?” The silky resonance of your voice stroked his mind in a perfect way, one that brought him to heel. Your doting attention happened to subdue him, cock stirring in the confines of his linen breeches.

He often pondered what went on in that beautiful head of yours, the way your mind operated. You were an intelligent woman, thoughtful and poised with a comely grace, becoming of a maiden. Gwayne swallowed the growing lump within his throat, feeling your palm smooth across the plate of his cuisse.

“Here,” He briefly motioned to the series of marks tangled along his collarbone — he was fortunate that it hadn’t been shattered. You stooped inward, mouth carefully hovering above the ugly bruises dotted along his collar, and kissed the injured flesh. “Hm — here.” Gwayne tapped his right pectoral.

You kissed where his hand gestured to, pliant lips akin to a gentle caress as you showered him in your sensual affections. Enraptured, Gwayne watched you, hunger swelling within him, a ravenous gnawing that he felt for you. It burned his loins, filling him with the ache of desire.

If it weren’t for his damned tasses and greaves, he would’ve had you slotted in his lap. Gwayne’s hands tightened around the back of the settee, digits curling into the wooden embellishments. “That’s all?” You murmured, gingerly caressing along his chest, watching as he immediately straightened.

Gwayne grit his teeth together, motioning toward his bruised bicep. “Here,” The soothing softness of your mouth soon followed, filling him with a warm rush of dull ecstasy. You kissed his bicep, peppering your lips upward until they landed atop his shoulder. “Here.” At last, he motioned to his mouth, marred by a cut.

“Here?” With a gentle hum, you smoothed the pad of your thumb against his lower lip, carefully avoiding the cut and any bruising. Gwayne kissed your fingertips, hand still poised against your hip, groping into your pliant curves and soft physique.

“Damnable vixen.” Gwayne muttered, though his cerulean hues oozed with warmth and ardor, a gallant love reserved only for you. It was a loving jab, and he immediately hauled you closer, bringing your mouth to his for a fiery kiss. The honey-sweet embrace of your lips were ambrosial, making his head spin around.

You reached for his auburn tresses, raking your fingers through his mane, kissing him hard and without an ounce of hesitation. His hands lowered themselves to your derrière, sinking into your supple flesh, treating you to the fervor of his hold. A low moan emerged from your throat when he nipped at your lower lip.

Gwayne relented, tongue seeking entrance into the warmth of your mouth, forcing you to part your lips. In a hurried clash, you kissed him again, open-mouthed and deliciously hot. Your stomach began to churn, arousal seeping from your core, slick between your thighs.

“Gwayne,” You whimpered, attempting to catch your breath as he parted from you, licking at his lower lip. “We needn’t carry on if you are hurt.” You insisted, but he scoffed at the notion, gazing at you with bewilderment and a clear dismissal of your concerns.

“Nonsense,” Gwayne countered, clearly feeling his blood sing with lust, bitten by desire. It was a fire that you had so diligently stoked, and now, it needed to be extinguished. “I would suffer through torture unimaginable if it meant I could have you properly.”

With a bemused huff, you pressed your lips against his bruised brow, watching as he stood up, chest bumping into you. The closeness only seemed to intensify, tension crackling between the both of you. “Are you still in-need of assistance?” You hummed, tone indicative of your lascivious wants.

Gwayne’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smirk, catlike and salacious as he released an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose,” Truthfully, he basked in your affections, even if it was all playful, a steady buildup to more lewd proclivities. He allowed you to do it all as you unfastened his cuisses and tasses, placing them aside. “Perhaps I should take you along to the next conflict. I will have need of your skilled hands, sweet wife.”

Seeing your striking husband in nothing more than his linen smallclothes made you itch with ardor, desire beginning to fester within your heart. His necklace, adorned with his mother’s ring and yours, hung around his throat, relics resting against his sternum.

A battle was certainly no place for a lady, but you digressed, lowering one hand toward the slight bulge in the front of Gwayne’s trousers. “Is that so? I’ve become quite proficient, husband.” A silky purr escaped your lips as you kneaded one hand against his erection.

Seven Hells, you would be his undoing.

With a sharp exhale, Gwayne let out a husky groan near the shell of your ear, hands steadfast atop your hips as you caressed him over his clothes. “Quite proficient, indeed.” He uttered, teeth grazing along your neck as you let your hand slither beneath the coarse linen. The warmth of his cock met your palm, and he shivered.

A breathy sigh escaped you as you bared your neck to him, palm encircled around the base as you dragged your hand from bottom to tip. The pad of your thumb stroked along the head of his cock, causing him to jerk forward into your embrace.

He had sorely missed your touch, the smell of your skin, the plush feeling of your body beneath his capable hands. Gods, if you kept touching him like that, he felt as if he would explode — and so quickly, too. Gwayne refused to resign himself to such a thing.

“I would be delighted if you’d join me,” Gwayne murmured into your neck, lips suckling just beside your jugular. The mark he left flourished, soothed by the lap of his tongue. “Only after I’ve ravished your sweet cunt, of course.” Even crude words sounded so pretty upon his tongue, and you felt your skin crawl with warmth.

A sharp inhale escaped you, anticipation churning within the pit of your stomach as Gwayne found the laces of your gown. You nodded several times over, lips parted as you sought his mouth for a blazing kiss. With dextrous fingers, he tugged on the silken ties, loosening the garment with ease.

The fabric pooled around your feet in a heap, and you hastily kicked it aside, standing in nothing more than a sheer slip. It was nearly translucent, made of a shimmering gossamer that left little to the imagination. Transfixed, Gwayne allowed his hands to travel along your body, kneading and caressing wherever he pleased.

He coaxed you toward the settee he’d been situated in minutes prior, allowing you to sit as he stood above you, hand slipping against your thigh. “Gods, you are divine.” Gwayne sighed, roughened fingertips stroking at your silky skin, like warm velvet. “Lift your skirts for me, dearest.”

Kneeling as a sacrilegious individual would, as if begging for forgiveness within the boughs of a sept, Gwayne sought his peace between your thighs. He observed in quiet rapture as you brought your slip to your hips, revealing your body to him.

Broad shoulders bullied their way between your legs, hands more than happy to have their fill of your haunches. “Gwayne,” You whimpered, feeling him adjust your hips to a proper angle, cunny glistening with a thin sheen of your arousal. “Please, I need your mouth!” Hapless at the talons of your husband, you pleaded with him to taste you.

There was nothing he wanted more in this world than to oblige you, lips pressing all along your legs, mouth steadily finding the apex of your thighs. Gwayne took care in spreading you apart, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt, your taste ambrosial.

A stirring fire of lust roused him, cock twitching within his breeches as he delved deeper into your core. His mouth was a thing of beauty, tongue sluggishly tasting you from your clit to your entrance. Your chest heaved with wanton pants, hands gliding toward his tresses.

Tangled within his copper mane, you coaxed him closer, digits digging at the base of his skull. Gwayne released a groan into your core, hands clamping down on your thighs with an ironclad grasp. Your nectar fell heavy upon his tongue, the sweetest of honey.

Gwayne thoroughly reveled in the feeling of your hands within his hair, hips occasionally stuttering and bucking forward, desperately seeking his mouth. He was attentive, lapping at your cunt with a fervor, allowing his mouth to drift to your clit.

Silk bunched up around your belly, thighs quivering like leaves as you continued to move inward. Most of your writhing was done unconsciously, pleasure continuing to wrack your body whole. Arousal pooled between your legs, spilling onto your husband’s tongue — and he consumed every drop.

Gwayne found his place between your thighs, as any devoted husband would. Every sound that he evoked from you, every shudder of your body, the slick of your arousal, he knew that it all belonged to him. Your needy moans filled your chambers, reverberating off of the walls.

“Gods, Gwayne!” You huffed, countenance screwed into a look of complete and utter bliss, lips agape and eyes fluttered shut. Without shame, you rode your husband’s face as best as you could, wrestling with his auburn locks as your knees squeezed at his head.

Perfect — it couldn’t have gotten any better than this.

His calloused palms ran along your thighs before finding their purchase against the swell of your hips, drunk and delirious from your cunt alone. He was positively whipped, a notion that he rarely admitted aloud, let alone shared with himself. The way you took his mouth with glee filled him with pride.

Another deliberate barrage of licks assailed your clit, causing you to shiver and moan, the sounds tapering off into a series of breathy pants. “Sweetling,” Gwayne crooned, timbre shifting into a delicious husk as he called you by that affectionate nickname. “You are incomparable.” He mumbled, nose brushing along the hood of your clit.

A pang of delight rippled through you as you preened beneath his desire-ridden compliment. Gwayne had a way with words, especially if he found himself in the mood to regale you with lewd whispers. The moment wasn’t now, but you hoped that it would be, soon enough.

That familiar coil of tenuous heat festered within the pit of your stomach, signaling the encroachment of your release. Gwayne buried himself into your cunt, spreading you apart, tongue greedily lapping at your core. His cock was desperate to be inside of you, slick with precum, straining against his trousers.

You chased after your release with reckless abandon, a low wine tearing past your lips as you tugged on Gwayne’s tresses with a sense of urgency. His lips found themselves pursed around the pearl of your cunt, suckling on that sensitive bud until you cried out.

It was an undeniable surge of utter bliss, an amalgamation of pleasure that made your thighs twitch and tremble. You threw your head back against the velveteen lounge, moaning your husband’s name as if it were the only word you knew.

Between the deliberate, timed strokes of his tongue and the stimulation of your clit, you could hold out no longer, digits curling inward, stomach sloshing with a molten warmth. “I— Gwayne!” You mewled, the sound deliciously innocuous as you approached your release.

It slammed into you with the force of a tidal wave, sending spasmodic shivers all along your body, making your skin undeniably hot. Gwayne groaned into your cunt, finding great pleasure in cleaning you up, reveling at the taste of your nectar, like a fine stout.

His cock throbbed with a pleading ache, wanting nothing more than to be inside of you. He was patient, but he could wait no longer, face appearing from between your thighs as he huffed. “I cannot continue to wait,” Gwayne murmured, voice laced with desperation. “I must have you, sweet wife.”

Still trapped within the white-hot throes of your release, you nodded, wanting more from him just as he did you. “I am yours completely.” You breathed, watching as he made for the bathtub. The water inside had gone from steaming to warm, not that he cared.

It was like a race, an eager clamoring to see who could get themselves into the basin first. Gwayne hastily unlaced his breeches, leaving them behind along the stone floor before he sank into the water, muscles unfurling almost instantaneously.

You stood, legs quivering from the might of your peak as you attempted to rid yourself of the silken slip, but Gwayne didn’t have time to watch you fiddle with your gown. “In,” With a sharp timbre interwoven with lust, you seemed surprised, but obeyed his command. “Come here.” He hissed.

Without delay, you stepped into the bathtub, still clad in your silken slip, which Gwayne paid little mind to. Eager, strong hands gripped your hips, dragging you closer until you were in his lap. Auburn tresses were slick with water, visage upturned into a look of sheer delight.

The gossamer silk stuck to your body, hitched around your hips, the wet garment clinging to your flesh. Gwayne lowered you enough to let his cock nudge against your folds, burying his face into the hollow of your throat. He pressed strings of needy kisses there, feeling you grind yourself against him.

Tugging at the thin, lace-woven straps of your slip, you revealed your breasts to him, fabric sagging along your midsection. You listened to the audible hitch of Gwayne’s breath, continuing to slide his cock along the length of your slit. “Sit,” He commanded, hands firm atop the swell of your hips. As you lowered yourself onto his length, he shivered, jaw tensing. “That’s it.”

His cock filled you perfectly — nothing of indomitable size or girth, but it was pretty, just like the rest of him. You gasped, palms moving to perch themselves atop his freckled shoulders. Gwayne groaned, slumping back against the slick, metallic wall of the tub, keeping one hand steady against your hip.

What sweet torment, Gwayne thought, tantalized and entranced by the way you began to ride him, sluggishly through the constant sloshing of water. He assisted you somewhat, guiding you along, occasionally lifting his hips to buck into you, but the efforts primarily rested with you.

“Seven Hells,” Gwayne huffed, cerulean hues drinking in the sight of you, disheveled and damp, countenance contorted into a look of pure bliss. “I missed that cunt of yours, wife. There is nothing like it.” A low grunt tapered off into a breathy sigh as you came down harshly, nails digging into his pale flesh.

Instead of cajoling him with sultry praises of your own, you kept quiet, one hand slinking toward the base of his throat. The newfound sensation left Gwayne visibly perplexed, but he enjoyed your little domineering streak, mouth curling into the ghost of a smirk.

His palm moved to cup your breast, toying with your nipple, slick from water, beginning to pebble with the cooler air. “Gwayne,” You moaned, bouncing upon his cock with all of the eagerness of a brothel whore. Enraptured, he observed you through a greedy, half-lidded stare. “You feel incredible.”

Before his cockiness and ego could come swinging into the fray, you lightly squeezed at his throat, evoking a sonorous groan from him. It was effective at silencing him, but his gaze burned for you, burned with something incendiary as he gently tweaked your breast, kneading at the soft mound.

You were divine, a goddess incarnate, made for him to worship at your feet. He simply couldn’t get enough of you, savoring the way in which his cock continued to bury itself within your tight walls, over and over again. That tenuous coil of warmth tightened within his belly, a rush of heat soon to follow.

His hips jolted again, bucking up into you until he hit that perfect spot inside of you. You gasped, mouth agape as your nails dug angry-red crescents into his shoulder. Gwayne’s own sounds of pleasure caressed your ear, feeling him lean in enough to press a string of kisses all over your breasts.

The hold you had upon his throat began to slack, thighs burning with a dull ache as you rocked yourself upon his cock, continuing to ride him. His cock bottomed out before you lifted yourself up again, only to fall right back down, letting him bury himself until he could go no further.

He looked gorgeous, crown of copper tresses lolled back against the tub, visage one of pleasure, hands continuing to grope and caress along your body. It was only when his length began to pulse and throb within you that he grit his teeth, bracing himself for his release.

A low, subtle ‘fuck’ tore past his mouth, goosebumps coalescing along the length of your spine. You didn’t relent, continuing to rock yourself upon his cock until he was bursting at the seams. With a noisy groan, Gwayne’s hips stuttered, filling you with ropes of hot seed.

Even the ache of war and sex could not spend him entirely, and if it were up to him, he would’ve had you on your back the second you stepped out of the tub. With a sigh of relief, he stroked your hip, watching as you came down with him.

“I will never tire of that,” Gwayne confessed, hand repositioning to stroke at your brow, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Will you stay and help bathe your husband?” He inquired, tone jocular and somewhat playful, but he seemed serious.

“Perhaps,” You mused, reaching for a bar of herb-laden soap, attempting to move off of him. Gwayne tutted, clicking his tongue with mild disdain as he pulled you right back down onto his cock. “Gwayne.” Issuing a soft-spoken warning, you gasped, brows furrowing together.

With a debonair smirk, he pressed a kiss against the hollow of your throat, lounging back within the tub, either arm perched along the sides. “You can stay just like that, dearest. You are well within arm’s reach.” That lascivious purr of him stoked yet another fire, and you relented, staying slotted atop him.

“You’re insufferable.”

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not translate my work onto other platforms, copy, or steal my work and claim it as your own.

[fill-me-with-dirt]

lacy fucking chabert is in 2006 black christmas What is she doing in there

[believingispowerfulmagic]

A Hallmark Christmas

Summary: Regina struggles with her holiday spirit in the aftermath of Season 5 and finds comfort in the made-for-TV movies she used to mock. One night she makes a wish on a Christmas star for her own Hallmark Christmas movie happy ending and finds herself getting seven...or maybe more? [OQ AU]

Chapter 1: FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Interlude #1

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt:

Regina woke up, once again in her bed. She sat up, wondering if this was another movie or something else. Pushing her blankets back, she padded over to the door and opened it. Looking down the hallway, she called out: "Hello?"

"Mom?" Henry called back from downstairs. "I'm in the kitchen."

She walked down the stairs, recognizing the house as her own. As she entered the kitchen, she found Henry eating some cereal. He smiled at her. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," she replied. "You're home early."

"No," he said, grinning. "You slept late."

Regina frowned, looking up at the clock. Surprise coursed through her as she realized it was after eleven AM - it was closer to lunch than breakfast. It had been years since she had slept so late and wondered how tired she had been the night before.

Henry tilted his head. "Are you okay, Mom? You still look tired."

"Oh," she said, though she wasn't sure if she should be surprised. Her rather detailed dream hadn't felt very restorative. So she just shrugged. "I guess I didn't sleep as well as I thought or hoped."

"You didn't fall asleep on the couch again, did you?" he asked, sounding concerned.

Embarrassed that he knew about that and was calling her out on it, she shook her head. "I fell asleep in bed."

He nodded. "Is it Roland?"

"What?" she asked, surprised.

"You seemed sad after the show," he said. "And I realized that the kindergarteners went last, which would've been Roland's class. So I was wondering if you had been thinking of him."

Regina sighed, nodding. It was the truth, after all. "I was. I miss him."

"I do too," Henry replied. He looked anguished as he asked: "Do you think if I hadn't tried to destroy magic, he would still be with us?"

She frowned, sitting next to him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the main reason the Merry Men left when they did was because magic was so unstable and everyone who wanted to return to the Enchanted Forest wanted to go before they were stuck here forever," he said. "And when they left, you were on your way to stop me. Which makes me wonder that if you were here and the threat of magic going away wasn't there, would you have been able to convince the Merry Men to stay? Or at least to let you keep Roland?"

Regina had also wondered what would've happened if she had been in town or if the others hadn't been in such a rush to leave Storybrooke. And though it pained her, she knew that it likely would've ended up the same way - just that Regina could've said goodbye to Roland herself and accepted his gift rather than Zelena being the middleman.

She took Henry's hand. "Robin and I…well, we never discussed his wishes. There was never any time and maybe even after what happened in Camelot, I was too scared to have that conversation because it could make the chance of losing him become a reality."

"Okay," Henry said, sounding confused.

"So I don't know if Robin would've wanted Roland to stay with me," she said. "I had to defer to the Merry Men, who would've known Robin's wishes better. And they already raised Roland from a baby with him. They know him best."

Henry nodded, though he didn't look too convinced. "I guess."

"I believe we will see him one day," she said, though her heart constricted as she feared it was a fool's hope. "Our goodbye wasn't forever."

"I know," Henry replied, trying to smile. "I just miss him."

Regina walked closer and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. "I know. I miss him too."

They hugged each other for a little while longer before she pulled back. "I'm going to change and then make myself some breakfast. When I'm done, we'll do whatever you want."

"Anything?" he asked, raising both eyebrows as he gave her a cheeky smile.

Realizing that she likely wouldn't like what he was thinking of, she added: "Within reason."

He chuckled, nodding. "Alright."

"Good," she said, kissing his cheek. "I'll be right back down."

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Card: Your own Persephone and Hades Love Story

Left to right- 1->3

Introduction

This reading will give you, your own personalized rendition of a love story as if it were inspired and based on the mythology of Persephone and Hades. These two mythological entities were famously known to have had a deep, profound and, also to mention, a rocky ride of a journey in love. If you are interested in this Gothic theme of a potential love life , pick one of the piles above.

================================================================================================

Pile 1:

To represent your relationship you received The Lovers. This card signifies a deep and meaningful connection. Your love story will be one of profound passion and mutual respect. Just like Persephone and Hades, your bond will be transformative for the better as the Strength card showed up as well. You will both bring out the best in each other, finding balance in your differences.

To represent the challenge you will face in your love story you have received The Eight of cups, Wheel of Fortune reversed and the Nine of Wands. This indicates sudden change and upheaval. There will be challenges and disruptions, but they will serve to strengthen your relationship. Much like Persephone’s abduction, these challenges will lead to a new and stronger foundation for your love. There will have to be a letting go, loss and simply regrouping your strength so that it makes way for a refreshed energy. You might leave something important to you for this relationship to occur. This might not feel like the correct decision at first but you decide it is anyway.

To represent the sweet progression of your love story you have received the Page of Swords, Ace of Cups and Four of Wands. These cards bring hope and inspiration. After overcoming obstacles, your love story will be one of healing and renewal. You will have a reason to celebrate this journey with a beautiful gesture of commitment, such as a well thought out and creative proposal made by your partner to you. It could even be a destination wedding or an intimate and romantic engagement party of sorts that will be one that happens to be the hallmark of your relationship in the eyes of many, since there might have been speculations regarding the longevity of your connection because of your previously mentioned challenges. You will both emerge stronger and more connected, finding joy and fulfillment in each other's company.

================================================================================================

Pile 2

To represent the beginning of your profound love connection you have received The High Priestess. This card symbolizes intuition and mystery. Your love story will be marked by a deep, almost mystical connection. You will both understand each other on a profound level, much like Persephone and Hades, whose love was rooted in the underworld's secrets.

Secondly you received the card of Hades himself The Death. This card signifies transformation and new beginnings. Your relationship will go through significant changes, shedding old patterns and evolving into something entirely new. Just as Persephone's life changed when she became queen of the underworld, your love will transform you both. You might feel that this person has an air of intimidation to them. Despite your reluctant nature to consider the longevity of this connection as certain, you might still be drawn to them as though you are influenced by a mysterious force beyond your control. I feel as though this is a connection that your ancestors would require you to have this lifetime.

Thirdly and most conveniently you have received The Temperance card and The Two of Cups. These cards represent balance and harmony. Despite the changes and challenges, your relationship will find a beautiful equilibrium. You will both learn to blend your energies, creating a partnership that is both peaceful and powerful. After all you see each other eye to eye. There is a rightful place in each others hearts made just for the both of you.

================================================================================================

Pile 3

To start things off you have received The Ace of Pentacles and Six of Cups. These cards symbolize abundance and nurturing. Your love story will be one of growth, both emotionally and perhaps even physically. Like Persephone's role in the cycle of life and death, your relationship will be a source of renewal and creativity. You will feel that this connection is a fresh start for your life. You might have met this person before once upon a time, whether you recall it or not.

You have also received The Devil card. This card indicates temptation and passion. Your relationship will be intense and possibly a bit tumultuous, with strong desires and deep emotional ties. However, like Persephone and Hades, you will find strength in your connection, learning to navigate the darker aspects of love. Since this card speaks for itself there is not a necessity for another pull regarding the main challenge to be faced.

The Justice card is present here, it brings fairness and truth. Further you have received The two of Pentacles. Your love story will ultimately be one of balance and justice, where both partners are seen and valued equally. Just as Persephone balanced her time between the underworld and the earth, your relationship will find its own harmonious rhythm. There will be compromises made with proper communication as shown by the presence of the Ace of Swords to end off the reading.

[caturnmoon]

Astrology Observations #6️⃣

♍️ Happy Virgo Season!! ♍️

🌱Virgo rising is a super underrated beauty placement in my opinion. Virgo is ruled by the maiden archetype, and physical hallmarks attributed to Virgo are that soft, doe eyed, effortless beauty for women and boyish good looks for men. They take pride in their wellness routines unless the chart indicates otherwise, and cleanliness and grooming take priority too. They always have this effortlessly put together beauty about them. Queens of the “clean girl” aesthetic. A lot of celebrities and models have heavy Virgo influence. Ex: Brooke Shields, Blake Lively, Beyonce

🌱Mercury Pluto aspects and always feeling like their mind is a scary place to be. They can struggle with mental health in general, but can also have AMAZING laser lock focus too. The expression, “You can do anything you set your mind to.” definitely comes to mind at its most positively expressed.

🌱Having the asteroid Fama in Virgo could indicate being famous/well-known for anything that you’re really good at. Virgo’s are known for their attention to detail and work ethics, so depending on the house it’s placed in, this area could be a natural talent for you and something you’re “famous” for.

🌱Gemini over the 6th house could indicate multiple jobs and not holding one job down for too long due to boredom. You need constant mental stimulation, so if your work doesn’t provide this, then you’ll be looking for the next best thing elsewhere. Creating a podcast could really appeal to you as well since Gemini rules oral communication. You’re most likely known as phenomenal multi-tasker in your everyday life and routines!

🌱Part of fortune in the 6th house could bless you with wonderful health and longevity. You probably don’t get sick that often and heal quickly too.

🌱Scorpio moons no matter how extroverted they may be if their chart supports this, value privacy over everything. They feel most secure when their privacy is respected and made top priority. If it’s in the 8th, 4th or 12th houses then this is even more emphasized. Needs solitude to decompress.

🌱Look to what phase the moon was in when you were born as well for added elements to your chart! I interpret the phase in correlation to my moon sign and the nature of it. it makes a lot of sense. I’m an Aries moon born during a waxing gibbous moon; the cusp before the full moon. Aries is fiery, assertive, and headstrong ready to charge forward. Waxing gibbous moons symbolize consolidating gains, moving forward and preparing for forward momentum before the full moon.

🌱Have a lot of 7th house activity? Your focus is developing (and learning what it takes to maintain) relationships in this lifetime. Give and take, compromise, and boundaries will be repeated themes and lessons for you to learn this time around.

🌱Having the 22nd degree (the Capricorn “kill or be killed” degree) can indicate immense potential for success and notoriety. In my opinion, this can be a very underrated fame degree.

🌱Having the rectangle pattern in your natal chart can indicate a strong pull towards making a difference in the world and being given all of the tools in order to make that happen while you’re here. This pattern is rare, and is made up of two oppositions connected with two trines and two sextiles. These aspects support and complement each other providing stability necessary to fulfill your life purpose and calling with relative ease.

🌱Pisces Mercury could have such profound imaginations and thrive at communicating through creativity of any kind. Keeping a dream journal may be beneficial for you too!

Until next time!!🖖🏼👽

[lewisvinga]

venice bitch | charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary; snippets of charles’s love for y/n that makes her forever grateful he is hers.

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs

word count; 674

notes; requested ! tbh i struggled to decide to make this angst or fluff but k made it fluff😭😭 n i also couldn’t figure out how to incorporate the exact words ‘venice bitch’, so this lowk could’ve been better im sorry🤒🤒

masterlist !

“I swear you’re like an ice cream ice queen,” Charles says in between laughs as Y/n drags him down the streets of Venice to a local gelato shop. She playfully rolls her eyes as he opens the door for her.

“Like you’re one to complain. I know you like to kiss me after I eat gelato!” She exclaimed, glancing back at him with a smile and getting in line.

He holds his hands up in defense. “You’re just so sweet for me when I kiss you!” He replies, watching her order gelato. “The strawberry flavor makes your kisses taste sweet.” He whispers in her ear as she orders that exact flavor.

“You’re something else, Charles Leclerc.”

“But you love it.”

She rolls her eyes once again with a smile lingering on her lips. Once she made it to the register, she didn’t even notice that he already had his card out and was ready to swipe.

By the time Y/n opened her bag, Charles already swiped his card. The realization made her let out a gasp. “Charles! I said I’d pay.”

“No can do, honey.”

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“Got the fire started!” Charles calls out from the backyard, adjusting the seats around the bonfire he had started. Y/n was out in the front yard tending to her plants before rushing to the backyard.

He had set out the ingredients needed to make s’mores, and when she noticed, she gasped. He pats the spot beside him, “Got a special seat for you here.”

“Cha’” She whispers, sitting down next to him. “You’re amazing.”

“Anything for my honey.” He kissed her head gently before grabbing the ingredients along with the bamboo sticks for the marshmallow.

They spend hours by the bonfire as the summer fades away and slowly ends. The scene felt like it was out of a hallmark. It was something that Y/n had always dreamt of. It was always the same one dream, one life, and one lover.

And she couldn’t have wished for a better man.

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“No peeking yet!” Charles exclaims, making sure to not mess up her makeup while keeping his hands over her eyes. He carefully leads her into their shared home in Monaco. They had just returned from a 5th anniversary dinner and Y/n returned with a special stone on her ring finger.

“Charles, you have another surprise? I’ll mess up my makeup even more!” She whined, her fingers playing with the diamond engagement ring. “Besides, this diamond is enough to keep me satisfied with surprises for the next few months.”

“Amour, we both know that’s a lie.” Charles chuckled, “You love your diamonds.” He added, gesturing at the diamond necklace and earrings she wore even though she couldn’t see him.

“What can I say? Me, myself, I like diamonds. Diamonds are a girl's best friend.”

“Okay, ready?”

“To cry more? Yes.”

The Ferrari driver couldn’t hold back his laugh as he slowly removed his hands. Y/n opens her eyes and gasps as she sees the scene. Her closest friends and her family were standing in their very decorated backyard. There were white flowers everywhere, and there was a table with a cake set up that had the words ‘Just Engaged!’ written on top. He invited the people closest to her and him to celebrate their engagement.

“You did not…” She says, still in shock, and turns around. Tears filled her eyes as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re too good for me, Cha’.” She cried in his arms.

“My best girl deserves the world,” Charles whispers, caressing her cheek in his hands. He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her lips, smiling as their family and friends cheered for the newly engaged. “I love you, mon amour.”

“And I love you, honey,” Y/n whispers back, staring at him with nothing but love and adoration in her eyes. “Truthfully, if you weren’t mine, I’d be jealous of your love.” She adds, leaning in and giving him another of many kisses as a newly engaged couple.