deep purple velvet

Did You Enjoy Yourself Last Night? (Thomas Jefferson x Reader)


I’m sorry if this is not what the requester originally intended. I just took the first idea I thought given the prompt and I ran with it. It’s not totally NSFW but boy oh boy is it steamy. THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I’VE EVER WRITTEN SMUT PLEASE DON’T HURT ME. Enjoy!

“You know, you really need to be careful around me when you’re in that dress,” Jefferson stated, a wide grin spread across his face, and a mischievous spark in his eyes. 

You smiled back.

“Well maybe that’s my intent, Mr. Jefferson.” 

You had been seeing Thomas for a few weeks now, and had been growing fonder and fonder of him. Tonight he had taken you out to a very posh restaurant, which was something you weren’t entirely used to, but your experience there so far had been exquisite. You had definitely dressed for the occasion: a velvet, deep purple dress that hugged your curves perfectly. You knew you looked amazing, and you could tell that Thomas agreed by the way he had been eyeing you the entire night long. The dinner had been finished, and you both were sitting at the table drinking glasses of red wine.

“Ah, dear (Y/N), I have some plans for you tonight…” he said, his voice getting raspy.

“Plans?” you raised your eyebrows as you asked innocently.

He chuckled.

“Drink some more wine, dear.”


You were walking back to your home, arm and arm with Jefferson. It was almost completely dark out, your pathway only being lit by the stars and candles sitting in the windows of homes. You were both quiet, but enjoying each others presence anyhow. You approached your home.

“So,” Jefferson suddenly said, as you approached your porch.

“Should I kiss you goodbye tonight?”

He suddenly snagged you by the waist, pulling your body up against his, and locking his arms behind your back.

“Or tomorrow morning?”

You blushed, giggled, and tried to wriggle out of his arms.

“Let go of me!” you exclaimed between laughs.

“Nope. You’re mine now, pretty lady!” He laughed before diving down to shower a myriad of little kisses on your cheeks. 

You giggled as you writhed in his arms, but to no avail. He had quite the grip on you.

Suddenly, his fast pecks melted into slow, sensual ones. He would kiss your cheek gently and linger there for a moment before finding a new spot, and planting another gentle kiss there. You stopped wriggling.

Eventually he began working his way up your jawbone. You felt a certain warmness in your stomach. You longed for him, and he knew you did. He was enjoying every second of teasing you. He was going to make you beg.

He continued placing kisses dangerously close to your lips, before moving down to your neck, peppering the area. You couldn’t take it anymore.


You felt him smile. He let out a chuckle before finally pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He then lifted his head up, looking down and smiling at you. You wanted more.


“Again what?”


His grin grew wider before crashing his lips into yours. You were surprised by how sweet and velvety they were. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer as your lips moved in sync. You felt his hands suddenly begin to slide down your back, until they reached your ass. You continued making out as you felt him give you a light squeeze. 

Two could play at that game.

You unwrapped one of your hands from his neck, and gently placed it on the area between his legs. You slowly began to move your hand back and forth, back and forth. 

He let out a moan as he bit your bottom lip.

You continued.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Suddenly, he parted from you. You didn’t care. You continued stroking him.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

His excitement was becoming more and more noticeable.

You looked up at him, beaming.

He chuckled.

“Naughty, naughty, naughty.”

“Do something about it.” you suggested.

“If you insist.”

He bent down and threw you over his shoulder. You let out a playful scream as he carried you into the house, slamming the door behind him and heading towards the nearest piece of furniture. He finally set you down in your bedroom.

“Now then, as much as I love this dress on you, I think it’s time you lost it.”

You turned around and he began pulling at the lace on the back, loosening the dress as it began to fall off of you. Once it had completely slid off, you began to turn you around. He stopped you, and quickly pushed you up against the nearest wall. He breathed heavily as he passionately kissed the back of your neck, then gently sucking and biting on your neck and shoulders. His hands slid their way to your breasts, and he fondled you while running his tongue along the new hickeys. 

You let out a moan and a light cry as he suddenly brought his hand down on your ass. 

“My God, (Y/N), we should have done this long ago…” he breathed as he massaged your breast with one hand and your ass with the other.

He then slowly turned you around, and began kissing you once again, He grinded his hips into yours.

“You know,” you began, pulling your lips away from his, “I think it’s time you lost some clothes.”

He smirked, stepped back from you and began undressing. First his coat, followed by his shirt, followed by his belt, followed by his pants. You both stood before each other in your underwear. You admired his chest and abdomen, both abundant with muscle. You placed your hand on his chest, and slowly moved it down to his abs. 

“Wow…” you breathed.

He smirked, enjoying the attention. You always knew he was a handsome man, but he looked irresistible with his shirt off.

He suddenly drew close to you, hooked his arms around your thighs, and lifted you up. You giggled as he carried you towards the bed, then set you down and gave you a light push so you laid flat on your back. 

He sat on the space below you, before lifting up your legs and giving gentle kisses to your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to your panties. Finally, he reached dead center, and began kissing the cloth, which progressed into long, sensual licks. You arched your back and moaned, as he continued to lick you. Finally, he slid your panties down, and skillfully worked them off your legs. He then returned, burying his face in you and overwhelming you with pleasure.


You woke up to birds chirping and the the sun glaring through your window. You were laying on Thomas’s chest, snuggled up next to him. Sitting up, you realized he was already awake, and watching you.

“I was waiting for you to get up, my love. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Thank you.” You smiled before leaning down, giving him a good morning kiss.

He smiled and rested his hand on your hip.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

You laughed out loud.

“We should really do that again sometime.”

He sat up and placed his hand on your cheek.

“Who says we have to wait?” He asked before placing his lips on yours.

Psychic Dreams Magick Pillow Recipe


  • mugwort
  • patchouli
  • cedar shavings
  • oak moss
  • ground cardamom
  • lavender
  • patchouli oil
  • wisteria oil
  • lemon grass oil
  • sandalwood oil
  • a cleansed crystal of your choice
  • muslin (to make pillow case)
  • black, deep blue or purple velvet fabric (for pillow cover, optional)
  • needle and thread for embroidering (optional)

On the first night of the full moon, combine the herbs, then lace them with the essential oils. Pour the mixture in a glass jar or bowl along with a small cleansed crystal (when in doubt, use clear quartz) and cover it. The jar should be set outside where it can catch the moon’s rays. Be sure to bring it in again before the sun comes up. Do this for 3 nights in a row. Use the mixture (crystal included) to stuff your pillow case made of muslin. This can then be inserted into your cover made of black, deep blue or purple velvet. Trim the pillow  (you might use fringe or tassels) and, if you wish, embroider a pentagram, crescent moon, small stars or runes on it. 

This Magick Pillow may be placed by your regular one on a night when you wish to have a psychic dream. Be sure to keep a journal and pen next to your bed along with a candle or oil lamp to record the visions that will come.

The Men Christmas Forgot

From the RusAme Secret Santa 2013, reposted for holiday spirit :)

Ten dollars and three cents sat solemnly in Alfred’s palm. Crumpled single dollar bills were held down by three tarnished pennies and an assortment of dines and nickels, the faces of dead men poignantly ignoring him. Alfred Jones blinked, eyes narrowing over the glasses perched over his nose and counted the singles again, smoothing out one with a ripped corner in the upper right. The bills had been fished through the year, pulled from forgotten pockets, gray gutters, and the left over change of bought frozen dinners. Alfred counted the change, scowling when the amount would not magically increase. Gray tile flew past like the scales of a dead fish. The harsh light of the tunnel made it seem as though everything was burning in sickly orange. The Yellow Line bus lurched, sending Alfred forward in his seat. The money nearly fell from his hand and Alfred stuffed his hand in his pocket, not daring to chance his fate for fear of dropping even one penny.

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Attack of the Clones: Though less restricting and more practical than her royal robes, Senator Amidala’s deep purple dress, velvet overcoat, and strict hairstyle are still elegant and impressive and conform to the Senate’s harsh sense of etiquette. The dark color of the ensemble also speaks to the somberness of recent events. The golden neckband, gift from the Naboo Council to their Senator, matches the metal bands holding back her hair and adds a touch of elegance to her ensemble. 

Design: While the inspirations for The Phantom Menace gowns came from Eastern countries such as Japan and Mongolia, concept artist Dermot Power drew on Western influences for this gown. The rich colors and textures are reminiscent of the 1500’s Elizabethan Era. The headdress, however, is from a completely different source, based on styles from Central Africa. It was constructed from gold metal circular coils with detailing that went over a cage-like base. 


part 1 here

It was a warm morning in hell, which surprisingly was rare. But when you turned around your husband Crowley wasn’t besides you in your king size bed. “Crowley?” you called, rolling over. 

“In the kitchen!” he yelled back, “stay in bed, I’ll be over in a few.” 

The smell of pancakes and maple syrup flowed into your bedroom and you smiled, it was your and Crowley’s one year anniversary today. 

“Breakfast,” he smiled, entering in his silk pyjamas, a tray filled with chocolate and blueberry pancakes.

A smile spread across your face. “You have never cooked before.” 

He laughed. “It’s a special day today.” He sat down beside you and you dug in, it was so delicious, you closed your eyes at how soft the pancakes were. “Is it that good?” 

You nodded, grabbing more, “so good.” 

You finished them and spent a few hours cuddling, today as going to be a day of hell. A day for just the two of you.

“I have a present.” he whispered against your ear.

“No you don’t, I told you no presents. You told ME no presents, and now I don’t have anything for you.” you whined, making a pouty face. 

A smirk prayed on his lips and he pulled you out of bed, wrapping you in his luxurious bathrobe. “Follow me my queen.” He walked you into the living room, his red velvet throne standing tall and proud. But next to it was a new one, gold edges curling around deep purple velvet. A small pink bow on the top, you gasped. “I only have one rule. Make a deal, keep it.” he kiss your cheek.

And you pulled him in to kiss your lips, feverishly and lovingly. The two of you ended on the chair, you on his lap. “Thank you, now let us put this new chair to use.” you smirked, and started to unbutton his shirt.

Requested by: anon

lala-kate  asked:

Prompt: OQ “I’m having a fantastic time, sitting here and baking in the sun.”

Missing year. How it starts between them. Kinda long :)

The apple blossoms have finally popped from their tightly held buds, and Regina’s little orchard, her perfect haven among the stone and steel of the Summer Palace, is just as glorious as it was all those years ago when she was a young, lonely, frightened bride. Before, the first day of May was a celebration in the kingdom, a celebration in which she was never included. Her mother refused to let her dance around the maypole with the commoners’ children in the village when she was a child; as the queen, by right she should have been the one to be presented with bouquets of wildflowers and well wishes from her subjects. Instead, she spent every May Day in her private orchard, alone, while Snow collected flowers and passed out shiny gold coins.

That first day in May in Storybrooke, when she realized that it was just another day in the land without magic, was the happiest May Day she’d ever spent. Later, when Henry came into her life, she celebrated in her own way, helping to create a garden of construction paper and pipe cleaners on the first of the month. As he grew older, he never forgot – he brought her first a flower he’d made in school, and then a flower he’d picked out of the bushes surrounding Town Hall. That last May Day, the year he’d turned ten, he went to Game of Thorns and paid for a small bouquet of blossoms with his allowance.

Two days later, he found out he was adopted. Their relationship crumbled to dust, but that bouquet, carefully dried and pressed, did not.

She thinks of it now, wonders if it still exists. Wonders if Storybrooke still exists. Wonders if her apple tree at home (she thinks of Storybrooke as home, will always think of Storybrooke as home, no matter how long she’s trapped in the Summer Palace) has burst into blooms, wonders if anyone will pick the fruit or sit under the tree, listening to the sounds of summer under the shade of its emerald green leaves. More than anything, she wonders if any part of Henry remembers a mother with dark hair and dark eyes lifting him up off the ground, bracing him as he reaches stubby fingers to the shiniest apple on the branch and promising him that she’ll never let him fall.

Wondering gets her nowhere. Wanting gets her nowhere; she knows that now. The trees at the Summer Palace will bloom whether or not she’s there to bear witness, and thinking about the son that’s lost to her forever won’t change a thing. She rises from the stone wall, brushes imaginary dirt from the deep purple velvet of her gown, and begins to pace along the flagstones of the courtyard. How to stop the witch? How to protect the people who’ve been entrusted in her care?

How do I make sense of a sister I never knew I had?

One problem at a time. She tugs at the elaborate collar of her gown and wishes, not for the first time, that she could forgo the trappings of the Enchanted Forest in favor of a simple sleeveless black sheath. Velvet in the summertime. Were they always this ridiculous?

The doors to her rooms burst open, and her stepdaughter barrels into her private sanctuary. Snow is wearing a gauzy white gown, all chiffon and billowy layers. Clearly, it was only Regina that was this ridiculous. She shifts under her corset, attempts to square her shoulders under the weight of the jeweled collar and crosses her arms. “What?” she spits.

Her sharp tone is enough to stop Snow short, and even though she knows they’re meant to be on the same side, she can’t quite quash the thrill of seeing Snow thrown off balance. She has so few pleasures left in this world; why not enjoy this one?

“I thought,” Snow starts, then pauses. Regina cocks an eyebrow. “I thought you might like to come out to the grounds. The maypole is up, and the celebration will be starting soon.”

“I’m busy,” she says as she turns her back to her stepdaughter.

“Doing what? Sitting out here staring into space?”

This feisty Snow is a thorn in her side.”I should have killed you years ago,” she mutters, but the words don’t have any weight, not anymore. She couldn’t kill Snow then; she can’t shut her up now. All she can do is poof herself as far away as possible.

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