silk perfection


Robin Wright, New Beauty Magazine, Oct 2017

Photography / Ruven Afanador

Style / Kemal Harris

When it comes to getting older, Wright says she’s not fighting it. “One of the greatest virtues is acceptance, right,” she tells NewBeauty. “It’s a struggle to do it; it’s an exercise; it’s a muscle you have to train, to accept things that are hard to accept. And also, accept the things you can’t change. And change the things you can.”



“Heirs: The 13th Stranger” (Chapter 5)  - [A Jeremy Irons/Tom Hiddleston/Sebastian Stan/Chris Evans story].

Written by: A.Wölf.

Previous chapter(s): 1: “Heirs: The Scent of Revenge”.  // 2: “Tiptoed love”. // 3. “Family Bonding”. // 4. “Wine Bath”. 

Notes: This chapter took me a while. It was hard to write because it’s the “calm” before the real storm so… get ready. Next chapter shall be much better.


Tom rolled on top of his wife on the bed, thrusting into her for the last couple times, with his forehead pressed against hers and his eyes shut as a grunt escaped from his lips, and he finally poured himself into her.

Panting, he opened his eyes to find her staring back at him, and he crashed his lips against hers with nothing but the satisfaction that precedes good morning sex.

“Get in the shower. You’re going to be late for work”, she purred between lip brushes.

“I could call in sick”, Tom whispered against her lips, “Or just tell the truth. Tell them I’m trying to get my wife pregnant”.

She giggled and gently pushed him away. Tom slowly got up and grabbed a clean towel on his way to the bathroom.

“I’ll pick your tie”, she said.

As soon as Tom closed the door behind him and she heard the shower running, she rolled her eyes and reached out to grab the glass of water from the nightstand as she opened the drawer and pulled out a Midol box to take a pink pill; she knew her husband would never touch that box, so hiding her birth control pills in it was the most reliable choice.

She got up and stood before the mirror, just staring at her reflection. She turned to get a side view and for a split second imagined herself pregnant; she almost cringed.

When Tom got out of the shower, his wife was waiting for him in the bedroom with the tie she had picked out. She stood in front of him and draped it around his neck.

Keep reading

Equally Breathtaking

A/N: An anon request for a Spencer x Reader where he comes home to the reader walking around in his clothes. Steaminess ensues. @coveofmemories @sweetg @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn


After a week away on an unbelievably difficult case, there was nothing he wanted to do more than go home to Y/N. Earlier in the day, she’d texted to say that she’d made his favorite dish, chicken cutlet and baked ziti, and couldn’t wait until he got home.

To say he was lucky she was in his life was an understatement. She understood the pressures of his job. Never made him feel guilty for being away so often. When he was home, he gave her everything he had, and then did the same at work. It was tough, but it was enough. 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and rattled them in the lock. After what felt like ages, the key finally fell into place. The second he stepped inside, the vision before him caused him to drop his bag to the floor. Dancing around in the kitchen was the love of his life, damp, wavy hair hanging loosely at her shoulders as she prepped the last of their dinner. “Hey baby,” she said as she turned around. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Why wouldn’t I be looking at the most beautiful woman in the world?” he asked as he scanned her frame. Apparently, she’d decided her own clothes weren’t good enough. She was wearing one of his button-down shirts, one of the older ones that hadn’t been ironed in a while, which hung loosely on her torso. As his eyes fell toward her legs, he noticed the material of his boxers hugging the curves of her bottom. The messy yet beautiful vision before him made him smile. “What happened to your clothes?”

Confused, she looked down, as if only now realizing that she was wearing his clothes. “I was running around all day, cleaning and cooking and doing laundry and I got really, really hot in my own clothes, so I decided to change, but everything I picked out was just going to be too tight and I needed freedom.” She rambled on, shaking her breasts for emphasis. “So I took one of your shirts and even though I knew you were coming home tonight, it smelled like you, and I’ve missed you, so I put it on and it was comfortable, so I kept it on.”

God she was beautiful. It didn’t matter if she was decked out in the most beautiful silk dress, matching heels, perfect make-up and gorgeously coiffed hair, or standing in front of him with damp hair and dressed in his shirt and boxers. She was equally breathtaking either way - the most beautiful woman in the world. “And the boxers?” he asked, his eyebrow raising as he glided his hands over her bottom.

That amazingly, adorable, embarrassed smile painted itself across her features. “I know how much you like how my butt looks in your boxers.” That he couldn’t deny. He was a big fan of her butt - his boxers, her panties, nothing at all - it didn’t matter. “You want dinner?” When he couldn’t keep his eyes off her, she must’ve noticed. “Or I could put it away for now?”

“Yea,” he said dreamily. He wasn’t normally the kind of man to get away with any kind of dirty talk, he couldn’t pull it off, but when he was in a daze, she found it cute. “I think I’d rather have dessert first.”

She giggled and stepped up on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the lips. After he helped her put the food away, he spun her into him and gradually backed her into their bedroom. “I’ve missed you,” he said more seriously. 

“I’ve missed you, too,” she breathed. As he backed her into the bed, she fell backward, causing them both to giggle. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and grazed his hands up her thighs and underneath his shirt, gliding his gun-roughened palms over her sensitive nipples. The sound of her moan ran up his body, goosebumps showering themselves across his skin. 

Y/N dipped her finger into her center, bringing it out and dabbing the wetness across his lips. He groaned and took her finger into his mouth, sucking it clean before peeling down the boxers and throwing them to the side. He bent his head to her legs and began to kiss her inner thighs. She was needy, grinding her pelvis downward and silently begging for the magic of his tongue, but he wanted to take her all in. “Mine,” he mumbled softly. 

As he kissed closer and closer toward her center, she deftly undid the buttons of his shirt, letting the material fall to the side and expose her needy skin. When he finally pursed his lips against the swollen bundle of nerves that had been begging for him since the moment he got home, she lightly gasped and grabbed his curls, pushing his mouth to where she needed him most. “More, please, Spence.” His cock twitched at her words and they drove him further, burying his face into her slick heat. She writhed beneath his mouth as he licked, sucked and kissed her. “Please, I need you inside me.”

“Is that so?” he asked coyly as he crawled up her body, gently lifting her off the bed to peel the rest of his clothing off her.

Eagerly, she nodded and bit her lip, desperate to feel him inside her after a week away, and he was more than needy for her. When he was on a case, he was 100 percent there, but once he left, the need for home and her was even greater than if he had been thinking about her while on the job. 

Spencer pushed himself off the bed and ridded himself of his clothes. He breathed a sigh of relief when his erection was free from the constraints of his own boxers. As he crawled onto the bed and hovered over her, she reached out for his length, teasing the tip and bringing the remnants up to her mouth to taste his desperation. “Please fuck me,” she begged. Her half-lidded gaze was nearly enough to push him over the edge, so when he slipped inside her, her walls tightening around his member, he cried out and took her mouth in his. 

A strangled cry ripped from her throat as his cock hit the deepest parts of her. But neither of them could get as close as they wanted. The room filled with grunts, groans and whimpers as he kept up his pace, watching for signs of increased desperation. “Oh, god, fuck,” she cried underneath him, reaching down and grabbing his ass. With one hand on his ass and the other around his back, she pulled him into her as closely as she possibly could and bit down on his shoulder.

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” he cried out, pulling out and releasing himself onto her stomach. “Holy hell.”

Her breath came in ragged spurts as Spencer pooled into a puddle at her feet at the end of the bed. “My god. Have you missed me, Spence?” She chuckled.

“So much,” he whispered as he kissed her knee. Reaching over, he grabbed a wipe for each of them to clean themselves up, and then helped her off the bed. “Now, I know I’m going to need much more of this…and this…” he said, kissing up her body. “But I need fuel. You want dinner now?”

She stood up and picked up his shirt, draping it around her as they walked outside. He was right behind her, which meant once again, he was getting a view to die for. Suddenly, she turned around and smiled, grazing his member through the boxers he’d pulled on. “If you don’t stop doing what you’re doing, and looking like that, I’m not going to make it to dinner.”

“If we can make it to the table, that’s all that matters,” she winked. 

anonymous asked:

For a prompt (I dunno if you do smut or not but) Ereri praise kink ?? It's the literal best thing ever

“Look at you,” Levi says, sitting back. There’s a predatory look in his eyes, one that has Eren’s own eyes falling shut, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“Don’t be shy,” Levi murmurs, fingertips ghosting over Eren’s ribs. “Your body’s incredible… look at the way it reacts to me.”

As if to prove his point, he brings his hands lower, running over the sensitive skin of Eren’s inner thighs.

“Levi,” he moans, fingers twisting further in the pillows. He both hates and loves when Levi talks to him like this.

“I could stay here all day,” Levi drawls, running circles along Eren’s skin. It’s so hard not to react, not to roll his hips upward, to seek out more–

“You’d like me to, wouldn’t you?” Levi’s voice is pure silk, his touch perfect sin. Eren’s legs are shaking, chest heaving, and–

“I’d gladly sit here and worship your body,” Levi murmurs, bringing a hand to Eren’s face. He can’t help but turn, a small whimper escaping him when the rough pad of Levi’s thumb brushes his lips.

“All you have to do is ask,” he breathes. Eren’s heart thumps wildly in his chest. “Just ask me, Eren. Ask me to touch you everywhere, kiss you everywhere.” Levi leans down, kisses his collarbone. “You know you’re perfect, don’t you? So tell me, Eren, tell me how beautiful you are. Tell me how you need me to show you.”

This the worst, when Levi tries to get him to say stuff like this– he can’t, absolutely can’t, but his body betrays him, jolting upwards into Levi’s touch when he wraps a hand around his cock.

“Ah– Levi!”

“Tell me,” Levi repeats, husky and broken. Eren can’t stand it anymore.

“I need you,” Eren gasps out, hands flying toward Levi, gripping at his arms. “I need you, I need you, show me how you need me–!”

Levi groans, shifting forward, bodies pressed together - ‘such a good boy’ - the whisper against Eren’s skin is enough to make him shiver, his hold on Levi tightening. He wants to be good, wants Levi to know he’s good - and Levi does, Levi does know. His touch is everywhere, his lips everywhere, and Eren sinks into the pillows, head fuzzy, skin thrumming.

My Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen,

Welcome! I am Charls, the renowned Veretian cloth merchant. You do me great honor by patronizing my humble establishment, be it due to my recent notoriety in my association with their Majesties, Laurent of Vere and Damianos of Akielos, or of course my long established good taste and extensive selection! Whether for the discerning eye in search of the perfect Varennes silk for an impeccably tailored Veretian suit or the bold tastemaker acquiring the crisp Isthima linen for a daring chiton in the Akielon style, I am pleased to offer my distinguished clientele a wide array of textiles of the finest quality (at the fairest prices, of course!). And for those who have yet to make up their minds, I humbly offer any advice and expertise my years and experience can provide. I am committed to bringing you, fair visitor, the most exclusive and up-to-date information on the latest fashions - guaranteed to turn heads from Arles to Ios.

Your humble and obedient servant,
Charls, the Renowned Veretian Cloth Merchant


// Hi there! Welcome to my Charls ask blog! I’m glad you’re here :) I’m Mem, your friendly neighborhood fashion historian. My intention is for this blog to be a blend of fun, in-character shenanigans and historical clothing reference for the Captive Prince fandom. Fashion history is a surprisingly small field and research isn’t always easy, and I want to be a resource to you all! Feel free to ask me for either (or both) - I am happy to RP, and I will always do my very best to cite my sources for historical information. So ask me anything!