Plethaid - Ye Olde Koolaid

when she says she doesn’t send nudes

Simon would definitely use “don’t bite the hand that fingers you” unironically

horrific and he'll say it in polite company too. now ya neighbor knows you're getting finger fucked on a lazy tuesday. (as if they can't hear ya while it happens.)

Bitches: mad about Rings of Power's Galadriel not being serene and wise at all times.

Me, an enlightened bitch:

LOTR & HOBBIT TEXT POSTS

it's okay thorin, love will find a way.

Absolutely feral over this oml it crawled under my skin and I fear it is going to stay there for a long while

)some graves love for graves enthusiasts like @nightunite & @grombs-blog <3 :3)

No one breathed too loudly in your court. You made sure of that.

The throne room was a thing of precision- cut glass chandeliers that dripped crystals like frozen tears, walls the color of spilled wine, and floors polished until they reflected the gleam of your wrath. Ministers spoke only when addressed, and courtiers knew better than to linger near the dais, and ladies flicked open their fans in practiced fashion so as not to raise your wrath and displeasure, for you were not kind nor were you warm, and you wore your reputation like a crown sharper than the one on your head.

But the moment the great doors creaked open and he entered, the air shifted.

Philip Graves walked with the quiet arrogance of a man who had never truly known fear- not the way others did. Shadows seemed to coil around his boots like old friends. He bowed as always- graceful, efficient, head low, almost theatrical- but those damned eyes found yours the moment he rose and a grin stretched across his face- even when yours curdled like milk.

“You’re late.” You said, voice cool enough to crack glass.

“Only by a few hours, Queen,” he replied, smiling just enough to test your patience. “And I brought you a gift.”

He held out a velvet pouch, and the court stiffened when the glint of a ring- plucked from some now-dead rebel prince-of-the-people, if you had to guess- shimmered inside. But it wasn’t the token that pleased you, for you had far more fancier rings and jewels.

It was him.

You leaned back, studying him like a particularly fine blade, and thus your finger curled to summon him close. “Come here.”

He obeyed, of course. Philip always obeyed you.

With a casualness that sent ripples of horror through the room, you pulled him to sit on the wide arm of your throne, letting one leg drape lazily over his lap. Your hand curled into his hair, tugging lightly- an unspoken warning and a familiar comfort. You felt him exhale, the only noise to be heard in the dead silence of the throne room.

This was your routine. A dance sharp as the knives he uses.

“My little pet,” you murmured, stroking his jaw with the back of your fingers, your cold rings brushing across his cheeks. “Did you make a mess?”

His lips curled, the barest echo of smug pride. “Nothing that can’t be cleaned up.”

You smiled, slow and dangerous. Ministers looked away. One of them- a particularly vocal noble from the southern isles- looked like he might be sick, but you didn’t care; you wanted them to see. Let them clutch their pearls and avert their eyes, for you and Philip were a sight unmatched.

Let them try to reconcile the brutal head of the infamous Shadow Group with the man now nuzzling into the crook of your neck like a favored pet.

They didn’t understand and they never would, because he was yours. Not just your assassin, not just your hound- yours. And no blade he carried was half as sharp as the softness he reserved only for you.

“You missed me, Queenie.” He said quietly, so only you could hear.

“I don’t miss things, much less belongings.” You replied, but your fingers still curled tighter into his shirt, digging like claws that would not let go.

Liar, he almost said. But he just smiled again for he fancied keeping his silver-tongue, eyes glinting like knives beneath silk.

The court watched, silent and stunned, as their cold, untouchable Queen cradled him with all the tenderness of someone holding a beloved cat.

Let them whisper and let them fear, for you had your throne and you had your blade.

And curled in your lap, purring like a devil in velvet, you had Philip Graves.

A lazy morning fuck.

cw: fingering, anal sex.

John wakes with a start and a strangled noise when his body clock jolts him conscious at 5.30am. He'd overslept, his startled mind informs him. He fights his way out of his heavy duvet to free his arms, knocking one of his pillows onto the floor. "Fuck, what day..." His head's all over the place because he's bloody exhausted, and he gropes for his phone on the bedside table, eyes fuzzy with sleep. It's not there and he lets out a frustrated grunt as he moves to sit up.

Nik's big arms reach across the mattress and encircle John's body. He pulls him back into the soft warmth of their bed, nuzzles into his fluffy, shower-soft hair. "Relax. You are on leave, solnyshko. Easy." Nik had left all their phones in the kitchen, with all the alarms turned off. The bedroom is quiet and cool, the curtains drawn to block out the early morning light flutter gently in the breeze. They're not on any schedule other than 'rest'.

Nik can feel the panicked rabbit of John's heart, the confused tension in his body, and begins to caress him gently. After their bath, John had pulled on his boxers and a cotton t-shirt before burrowing beneath the duvet and promptly falling unconscious. It had been an abysmal week, even by John's standards. He needs the leave to recharge, to find his peace again.

Nik's big palms move beneath that t-shirt, over John's chest, across his belly, up his arms, enjoying the downy softness of his body hair, the swells of muscle and plusher give around his abdomen, warm and inviting. Nik kisses his neck, noses his beard, and eventually John relaxes back into a deep sleep. He burrows into Nik's chest, nose between his tits, and Nik feels him deflate with a long sigh, aching body sinking into the mattress as Nik pulls the blankets back over him.

Nik stays awake for a while, just watching. John is beautiful in the low light. The lines around his eyes have smoothed out in sleep, his fluffy hair ruffled, broad shoulders rising and falling in time with the slow beat of his heart. Nik can feel it though his back, a strong, steady thrum that lulls him back into a lighter doze. He dreams of captains with pretty blue eyes and muscular bodies stretched out in pleasure, and his body stirs even as he snoozes.

Later, at a more reasonable hour, Nik wakes again slowly. He can hear the traffic outside the open window, taste the morning on the cool air, and he breathes in deep, basks in the peace and safety of the moment, still and soft.

John's still sleeping, but he had rolled over so his back pressed to Nik's chest, the pert curves of his arse pushed up against Nik's morning wood in the most exquisite tease. Nik sleeps naked, and his thick shaft sits perfectly in the dip of John's cleft, cradled by the stretchy cotton of his boxers, his heavy balls pressed up beneath. They had been too tired last night, but morning sex with a well rested, eager John Price is Nik's reward for a long op. His cock gives a needy throb as he rocks it against John's body, aching to be inside him, wet tip drooling a bead of precum in anticipation.

Nik starts as gently as he did before. He circles his fingertips over one pert arse cheek, stroking John through the soft material of his underwear. The flurry of goosebumps that rush over John's exposed arm betrays his enjoyment, even if he hasn't fully woken yet. Nik continues, sliding his big palms up John's torso to grope his tits. They're perfect. Firm, with that soft layer of hair that Nik likes to rub his face into. His thumb circles the soft areola of John's nipple until it pulls tight, so he strokes the firm nub between finger and thumb until John's entire chest is firm with arousal.

Where Nik's nipples are dusky, John's are a light pink, as sweet as the rest of him beneath his austere disguise. The first time Nik had undressed John, he had been completely smitten by the constellations of freckles over his pale skin, the tan lines, the scars, every soft patch of skin and sensitive erogenous zone. How beautiful John was when he let himself be vulnerable. That first night John had sunk onto Nik's cock, making soft noises of overwhelmed pleasure, and Nik had kissed and licked his nipples until he came in the dense curls of Nik's chest hair, gasping and moaning in a low, sultry timbre that Nik still pleasured himself to the memory of.

The memory makes Nik's cock twitch now and he pushes it firmly against John's arse with a low moan of longing. John stirs, his body straightening a little, pressing into Nik's hands with a soft sigh. Nik smiles into John's hair and continues his lazy exploration, squeezing and massaging John's chest as he leans over to kiss his neck and shoulders.

Even asleep, John arches into it, he's so responsive, so sensitive. His freckled skin warms, flushing over his neck and chest, and he begins to squirm in Nik's arms. Nik worms one beneath him, slanting up his chest to slide a hand around John's throat to tilt his head back just as the other strokes down his belly and into his boxers to claim his prize.

John's wet and hard, the soft cotton of his boxers damp against Nik's knuckles as he strokes John's cock with a firm grip from root to tip. John's eyes flutter, damp lips parting as he tilts them against Nik's jaw. He pants, reaching to hold the wrist of the hand around his throat as he's drawn close to Nik's chest, and Nik squeezes a little, and John lets out a soft noise of enjoyment. John's cock pulses in Nik's hand as he draws it over the waistband of his boxers, precum wetting the hem of his shirt.

"Couldn' wait fer breakfast, eh?"

"No," Nik replies softly, fingertips following a thick vein down the underside of John's shaft to the curls around the base, continuing along the seam of his sac, firm and high. "You need this as much as I do." Nik traces lower, caressing down John's taint to his hole, stroking the rim in gentle passes.

"God, fuck, yeah..." John moans, thigh lifting to drape over Nik's, hips rocking up to encourage Nik's touches, grinding his arse back enticingly against Nik's prick. Precum wets the small of his back as Nik's tip nudges beneath his shirt. "C'mon, Nik. Stop teasin'. Yer so hard..."

Nik chuckles, tugging his hand free long enough to pump out a handful of lube from the tub on the bedside cabinet. Price wriggles out of his boxers, kicking them down his legs, and Nik bites his lower lip as the soft skin of John's cleft presses the heat of his shaft. Nik draws John over him a little more, delighting at the demanding growl that vibrates under the palm around John's throat. Nik doesn't leave John wanting, slick fingertips caressing the outside before the first presses inside. John's legs spread wantonly, the heft of his balls sitting against the cup of Nik's palm as he relaxes.

Nik slides in a second, licking into the shell of John's ear, nibbling the lobe, as he crooks his fingers in a slow, deliberate come hither gesture that makes John's thighs shake. "Nik, fuck... Nik, ahh..."

"Da, solnyshko... da tebya yebat nado." Nik growls, easing his fingers out as he scrubs his face into the coarse bristles of John's beard. He rolls John onto his front, pressing him into the mattress with the weight of his chest, biting and kissing the slope of his shoulder, the skin of his neck between the gaps of the fingers still holding his throat. He reaches down to guide the tip of his cock to John's wet hole, teasing his slit with the soft rim before easing his crown inside. John's still pleasantly tight, sucking Nik in greedily, bearing down with a deep, satisfied moan as Nik sinks in hilt deep until the firm swell of his balls pressed to the back of John's. Nik growls, satisfied by the wet heat enveloping his cock, snug, keen, perfect. "Ya zastavlyu tebya umolyat ob etom."

"Mm, Nik, fuck... fuck... yeah. So, f-f-fuh.. s-so good." John's cock is trapped between his belly and the mattress as Nik slowly rocks into him, keeping him pinned with his bulk, thick chest pressed to his back. Nik grinds more than thrusts, precum and lube making obscene noises at the seam of their bodies, echoing their gasps and groans, muffled only when Nik presses his mouth to John's shoulder to breathe him in as the pleasure rolls through his hips in a deep, slow ebb that matches the pace of their love-making.

Even with his cock inside him, Nik wants to be deeper; to burrow in his scent, to feel the heat of his body against every inch of his skin. John sounds so good, every low moan, every time Nik's name slips out in his deep, gravelly tone, cigar smoke and the roar of battle buffing his voice like sandpaper. Nik could listen to John talk for an eternity, but the way he sounds in pleasure, his moans, his pleas, is a whole new level of indulgence.

When John spreads his legs over the bed, tilting his hips to urge Nik deeper, Nik nudges his knees up beneath his thighs and grinds in slow, graceful rolls that drags his cock in and out at an angle that makes John moan loud and wanton. The firm muscles in his back pulling taut in a decadent arch. "Oh fuck, Nik... 'm gonna cum, 'm gonna.... fuck, 'm so close... please, please."

"Not yet, detka," Nik murmurs against John's neck. "Hold on." Nik lifts up, changing his grip to the back of John's neck to push the side of his face into the pillow, the knuckles of his other pressed against the bed.

"Nik, please... please..."

John's fingers curl in the sheets, fists shaking as Nik fucks him with the same firm, deep pace, the continuous drag of his cock teasing him higher. Nik looks down the slope of his body, watches his thick shaft sink into John's body, ruddy skin slick with precum and lube, John's hole fucked open and desperate. He picks up his pace a little, listens to John's low moans break into whimpers as he walks the precipice. "Nik, Nik, Nik... Ahh, ahh."

Nik closes his eyes and tilts his head back. He knows the moment John comes he'll follow, he's on a knife edge, the knot of tension in his hips pulled tight. John begs, whimpering, and Nik chokes out his permission. "Da, John... da." He feels John come, his body tightening, and fucks in deep to enjoy every spasming pulse of it. When his own crests, he releases John's neck to take his hip and draw him back onto his cock, shoulders hunched as his head drops, forehead in the centre of John's. As his heart thunders, cock twitching in the aftershocks, he presses gentle kisses to the back of John's neck and draws out.

He slumps to the side and strokes John's hair as one fuzzy blue eye watches him from the folds of the pillow. They say nothing in the soft afterglow, heavy breaths fading into deeper ones. When the sweat had eased, Nik draws John into his arms again and kisses the soft skin beneath his ear and lets him doze.

When he wakes later, John shrugs out of his t-shirt and pushes Nik onto his back, straddling his hips to sink onto his cock again, hole still fucked open and eager. Nik watches those thick tits bounce as John rides him, John's head tilted back in ecstasy, big hand pumping the length of his prick as he chases another high. They'll spend a lazy weekend in John's flat, smoking expensive cigars and drinking expensive whiskey, having marathon sex that Nik will drop tantalising hints about over poker, leaving the sergeants equal parts aroused and traumatised. Nik is, after all, a great believer in finding joy in the simple pleasures.

The Lord of the Rings + Tumblr Text Posts

Part 2

LotR fandom, as far as I've seen, pays an astounding lack of attention to the Fellowship's canonical Roommates Period, in which they all lived in the same house in Minas Tirith for two-and-a-half months after Aragorn's coronation simply because he wanted his friends to still be around for his wedding (which, incidentally, he refused to tell them was coming).

obsessed with the idea of onlyfans model! reader x Simon

Maybe you’re one of the biggest creators on the platform and you’re very well known after doing it for a few years. Except, you only do solo content, despite your peers constantly asking to collab or getting requests from fans to see you getting fucked.

Then, one day you post a video showing off some new panties and Simon’s tattooed and scarred hand just appears, squeezing the meat of your ass, claiming and possessive. A subtle message he’s sending to your audience as he spreads your cheeks apart, sliding your panties to the side and shows off your pretty pussy dripping with his cum.