#ravishing wife

[lllilyttthommmaaas]

sweet lady near the sea beach

[garnet-xx-rose]

The Phantom may be toxic, but he would NEVER ask Christine to be his long-term long-distance low-commitment casual girlfriend.

[floooraaarrrobert]

sweet ladies dancing

[lesmisscraper]

Happy Anniversary and Good Night!

Clips from <Il cuore di Cosette>.

[monikkkasssiimon]

sweet female

[bittersweet-mojo]

Binged the entire first season of the gilded age in a day and I just KNOW the Russell’s fuck nasty I KNOW IT

[lesmisscraper]

Am I the only one wondering what happened during Mr. Hugo paused his pen?

Well, I admit that Mr. Hugo wrote about their wedding night 'in his old fashioned way', Marius is not the guy that would do those things to Cosette.(See their night date scene!) We only see Cosette was with her sweet face, her hair was in charming disorder, her eyelids were still swollen with sleep after that night. I think this means Cosette was very satisfied, so their wedding night was happier than the average couples at that time. It may rude to them, but I really want what happened on that night. To see how it's different from how Mr. Hugo mentioned.

[monikkkasssiimon]

sweet actress

[betweenthesinnersandthesaints]

New Muse Added

Name: Anne Boleyn

From: The Tudors/ History

FC: Natalie Dormer

Verses: 

-Doomed Second Wife of the King-  This verse follows the regular timeline of the show/history. Threads during this verse will take place during this time and end with her beheading.

-Mother of the Future King AU: What if she hadn’t miscarried her son? What would life be like for Anne now that she has fulfilled her promise to Henry, but knows her husband has lost interest in her? 

-Divorced Instead of Beheaded AU: Instead of the trumped up charges that led to her execution, Anne and Henry divorce, leaving her the Marquess of Pembroke and the mother of Elizabeth, who is still declared a bastard but gets to be raised by her mother.

-Regent of the Future Queen AU: Henry dies from his injuries received in the joust, leaving Anne as the Regent to their young daughter, surrounded by her enemies.

-Modern AU

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Imagine your vampire husband guiding you onto your werewolf best friend’s cock, cooing softly as you winced in discomfort at the stretch.

“Oh, my little angel… you’re taking it so well, can’t you be a good girl for your dear friend and give him a litter of pups?”

You whimpered, staring down at your friend. His wrists were bound to the bed frame, but you could see in his eyes that all he wanted to do was ravish you, to have his hands all over your soft, delicate body.

But your husband held the reins. He was the one guiding you, digging his nails into the werewolf’s thigh if he bucked his hips upwards a bit too roughly.

Your husband sneered, looking down at your friend with his scarlet eyes.

“Gentle, mutt. Getting to fuck my wife is a privilege that I can take away. Now…”

His voice became gentle again, a purr escaping his lips as his fangs brushed against your neck. “Is it feeling good, my angel? Oh, you want it a little faster?”

Even though you were bouncing on your friend’s cock, you called out your husband’s name. He was the one moving your hips at the perfect pace, rubbing your clit in circles and biting into your neck, your friend was basically just a dildo to your husband.

“There we go, take his knot love. It’ll be uncomfortable for a moment, but you’ll get used to it…”

After leaving both of you a complete mess, your husband untied your friend, then carried you away. “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart. Shh, don’t worry about him… he’s already asleep.”

Your husband ravished you as soon as you were in his bedroom, reveling in the fact that he got to touch you when no one else could.

[j-edward-fitzgerald]

The Raven Chronicles ~ 46

(Chapters are arranged chronologically in ARCHIVES) Dr. Sylvester Agnostica, MD. Sterns-Carson Sanitarium Green Pines, Ohio November 22, 1932 I have always considered myself a realistic and practical man, therefore, I cannot lie about today’s visit from Jacob Drummond; I survived a squall, but the storm is not over. At most, I have been granted a reprieve. I know full well that time is limited,…

[pseudowho]

"Why the fuck...does this vacuum cleaner smell like cheese?"

Kento was yet to arrive home, and you saw this as only a blessing for him. Staring down the barrel of the hoover, the house finally hushed from the sounds of rowdy children, you wore your finest holey tank top, and pyjama shorts which covered asscheek, pussy and belly (but only ever two at a time, at any given time).

Your antiperspirant didn't have the same stamina as you. You swore as you trod barefoot on Lego, staggering and cussing like a mad old witch.

Bra-less, and without the time to scout the laundry pile for underwear, you hoovered crumbs and war-detritus like a skrunkly raccoon; hungry, cross, and in need of a shower. Your mind was lost, running between the alleyways of your chore-list, when the door clicked open, and closed.

You vacuumed, and vacuumed, not even looking up as you heard the rhythmic tack, tack, tack of his brown Oxfords approaching.

"There she is."

As if you were the Venus de Milo.

You grunted, lifting the rug and picking up an abandoned, squashed peach with an ugh! and cursed your sleeping offspring. You stood up with a huff, blowing sweaty hairs off your face, your breasts swinging independently of you.

"How's my darling wife?"

Pristine as ever, crisp and ironed and with the faintest tang of sweat and cologne, you wondered if Kento would ever arrive home looking like he'd been intimately acquainted with a trash can. The day had not yet come. Whiskey-deep eyes drank you in, parched.

Your heart ached with how handsome he looked, and how pathetically mismatched you were against him.

"Kento. You're home."

"Mmmm."

Either in confirmation, or having seen something delicious; you weren't sure. You suspected the latter. You scoffed as his hands reached out to slip round your raggedy waist, and you scoffed, and he shushed you, and you berated him, and he mumbled sweet nothings into your neck until you were finally folded into him, his missing ingredient.

And how he looked at you, as if you'd hung the stars and orchestrated the seasons.

You breathed him in, lax against the brick-wall solidity of him. You could have cried.

You still had sloppy peach remnants in your hand as Kento kissed you, soft and mellow and longing. You huffed against his lips.

"Kento, I am a fucking mess--"

"You're lovely--"

"--I absolutely am not--"

"--ravishing--"

"--you're ridiculous--"

"--gorgeous--"

"You're an idiot."

"I've missed you."

"God, I've missed you too. So much. You don't even know."

"I'm sure I do."

You sighed, nuzzling your face into the hard planes of Kento's collarbones, growling away a day of frustration. His chuckles rumbled up, tickling your nose. You rested your cheek against Kento's chest, your weariness bone-deep, having had no agency over your body or your time since dawn.

You surveyed the carnage together in silence; toys strewn as if the bodies of soldiers, abandoned laundry with stains of suspect aetiology, congealed meals, lovingly prepared and never eaten. You felt the weight of the day threaten to overwhelm you, feeling the panic and anxiety climbing, tidal waves on your waterline--

"Sit down. I'll make you a cup of tea."

The floodgates almost opened. "I can't do that-- you've had a long day-- so much to do--"

"And, I'll do it."

"No you won't, I--"

"Sit down. And I'll make you a cup of tea."

A single, slow kiss to your sweaty forehead. You sniffled, no strength left for another battle. You offered paltry smiling complaints as Kento nuzzled your hair, gripping you closer, growling into your neck as you squeaked and laughed.

You felt the familiar heavy press and twitch of his cock against you, and he groaned as you squirmed in his grasp, giggling. You caught his eye, as he twinkled down at you, pressing one slow kiss to your lips, possessive and full of promise.

"...I'm not apologising for anything. You look incredible."

"Ridiculous man, Nanami Kento."