La passe-miroir Auteur : Christelle Dabos Genres : Fantasy, Action/Aventure Longueur : 4 tomes (seulement 2 publiés pour l'instant). Note : Le premier tome a remporté le concours du premier roman j...
Sade Olutola

blake kathryn
i don't do bad sauce passes
cherry valley forever

Andulka
will byers stan first human second

tannertan36

Discoholic 🪩
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
NASA
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Mike Driver

Janaina Medeiros
trying on a metaphor

@theartofmadeline
DEAR READER

titsay
dirt enthusiast
noise dept.
Three Goblin Art
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Netherlands

seen from Germany
seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States

seen from T1
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia
seen from Belgium
seen from Germany
seen from Spain

seen from New Zealand
seen from Türkiye
seen from Netherlands
@hetep-heres
La passe-miroir Auteur : Christelle Dabos Genres : Fantasy, Action/Aventure Longueur : 4 tomes (seulement 2 publiés pour l'instant). Note : Le premier tome a remporté le concours du premier roman j...

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Ayé, “a voté” !
Comme nous, vous êtes peinés à l’idée de dire au revoir à Lady Mary, à Bates, et même à Thomas ? Nous vous proposons de prolonger le plaisir avec cet appel à manuscrits ! À l’occasion de la diffusion de l’ultime saison de la série et la parution de l’ouvrage Chroniques de Downton Abbey, Librinova et …
Concours d’écriture / appel à manuscrit autour de l’univers de Downton Abbey...
Jusqu’au 10 mai 2016
A short resume.
The French tradition of giving lily-of-the-valley (muguet) flowers on May Day is supposed to have begun on 1st May 1561, when King Charles IX of France was presented with a bunch of lily-of-the-valley flowers as a token of luck and prosperity for the coming year. History does not record who it was that presented the King with this perfumed gift, but he took a shine to this idea and began the custom of presenting muguet flowers to the ladies of his court each year on May 1st. From around 1900 it became traditional in France for men to present a bouquet of muguet flowers to their sweethearts to express their love and affection. Nowadays muguet flowers are also given as a general token of appreciation between close friends and family members. This custom has now been adopted by other european countries. (Not in England unfortunately!!!!!)
Source : http://www.old-forge.net/frmaidex.html

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
RURAL RAP...
Genius !
Rapping in the countryside... about life in small godforsaken country villages, where there is nothing to do for youngsters... SO FUNNY! And a nice change from rap about ghettos!
The gentle dame and the villein, or the new Heloise - Chapter 12
"Oh Sybil... I love you!"
WHAT?
It sobered her up instantly, making her come down in a split second; the landing and return to Earth and reality was hard, to say the least, and she felt something icy and heavy spread suddenly in her chest and belly as her mind cleared up sorely.
But she felt absolutely stunned.
Her eyes wide opened, she stared at him, bemused. What the...? Did she hear right? She froze under him. As caught up in what he was doing as he was, he didn't notice her sudden change of demeanour; he was too far gone, too close to the brink to take notice of anything and he zealously carried on with his current task.
She was relieved that it didn't reach his conscious mind, since she really didn't want to talk; relieved that he didn't stop to ask her if something was wrong, since she didn't want to have to explain, to have that conversation. Not right now. Well, not ever, if she had her way... And after all, perhaps it just blurted out of his mouth as some kind of self-encouragement, of pep-talk, without any real meaning behind the words? Just like when he mumbled 'so good', or 'sweet Sybil', or anything that kind? A spur-of-the-moment-in-the-heat-of-action kind of meaningless words?
Or perhaps she simply didn't hear right? Perhaps he just called her a dove? Perhaps he said that he dove inside her? Perhaps he said he had a low view? No, she reflected, these last two were just pure silly nonsense.
She felt him speed up his pace even more, saw his eyes roll upward. She knew the first wave of impending pleasure was just about to hit him.
Perhaps he had only meant he enjoyed being above her? She held onto this idea, regaining some hope at that thought and relaxing a bit. Some heat even returned to her stomach and her loins.
"I love you so muuuch..." he then moaned, throwing his head backwards, "oh m'darliiing...!"
So much for hearing wrong, she realised, flabbergasted by his words. He even called her his 'darling'! The icy paralyzing something came back full force, gripping her limbs and preventing her from moving any part of herself, from even battling en eyelid. It was as though her mind too totally froze, aghast and empty, astounded and vacant.
Stunned as she was, she didn't even watch his ecstasy, a sight she usually revelled in whenever she wasn't herself overcome with the same sensations. But right now her mind was too punch-drunk for that, too knocked out. For a few seconds it was a though her mind and whole body had gone blank. Not a good and pleasant kind of blank, though, and if her body had gone limp, it wasn't from exertion or intense pleasure.
The gentle dame and the villein, or the new Heloise - Chapter 11
From this day on, there had been more kissing than actual teaching and learning during their so-called 'lessons'. And then in their makeshift 'study', with their books opened before them, more words of desire and passion than of reading passed between them. Her hands strayed oftener to his thigh than to the pages, and his hands found themselves at her bosom more often than to his quill and parchment; love drew his eyes to look on her face more than reading kept them on his texts. Their desires left no stage of lovemaking untried. They entered on each joy all the more eagerly so that they were previously almost inexperienced, and also were therefore less easily sated.(1)
When after a couple of days into their new... relationship? – no, she told herself, it wasn't really a relationship, not in the way people meant this word; their agreement? Well, they didn't explicitly agree on anything, not in the spoken form anyway. It was rather a tacit agreement. So, she resumed her previous train of thought, when for the first time since they had become physically intimate she didn't achieve ultimate pleasure, she made the most of it to observe and study his face as he climaxed: the contorted features, the wide opened mouth as if to let out a silent long shout, his head thrown back while his neck and spine were arched, the becoming rosy colour on his cheeks, his eyes screwed tightly shut... all this made an absolutely fascinating and unforgettable sight.
A very instructive one, too: it showed her the power they had on each other and taught her much about the similarity between men and women. And to reciprocate the teaching, once he had recovered she in turn instructed him on how to 'serve' her with... well, other parts of his being. And like the dutiful servant and the eager pupil he was to her, he willingly did.
After a few weeks she noticed with great shame that her attention was no longer as much on her studies and her education as it should have been, and also that the care she used to give to Branson's actual lessons nearly disappeared: before, she used to always prepare something, a text, a subject, a point to debate with logics, she wrote down some guidelines for her lesson and really put her attention and care in it. Now she just improvised, grabbing a book or a roll of parchment at random, and simply repeated what whoever its author was had written. What tutor worthy of the name would do that? In other words, she was simply botching up the task, now.
All that because her mind was entirely obsessed with lechery and lewd thoughts. Because her mind was crowded with reminiscences of their previous trysts and anticipation for the next one. Because he had invaded her mind and the thought of their passionate embraces was now taking precedence over philosophy and her love for logic. Her hunger for him had become stronger than her thirst for knowledge.
Shame, shame, shame on you, her conscience was chastising her, for neglecting the care of your mind in favour of the needs of your body. For giving in to sloth because of lust.
She sighed.
But apart from this slightly inconvenient piece of guilt nagging at her at the back of her mind, Sybil was feeling absolutely wonderful about the new turn her life had taken a few months before. Now that Mary had given birth to a healthy son, had survived the childbirth and had fully recovered from it, the whole family and household was over the moon and their whole attention was on young George Crawley, future Earl Grantham – as late as possible – and on his mother. Sybil was again as free to come and go unnoticed as when she first met Branson.
She recalled that day: who would have thought, back then... She had been hardly more than a little girl, and he had already been a grown man; or at least, she had seen him as such... Yes, who would have thought. That had been the very first time she had ever hitched up his tunic, she reflected, but with absolutely no ulterior motive at that time.
Well, times change and little girls grow up.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The gentle dame and the villein, or the new Heloise - Chapter 10
She was lying flat over him, onto him, totally spent, exhausted. Covering him like a blanket, skin against skin, with their sweats mingling between them, she was slowly coming down, her laboured breathing tickling his hair and drying the damp skin of his shoulder.
Oh... she hazedly thought.
So, they had been at it again.
Once more.
The first time, once the frenzy was over, they had felt terribly awkward to each other. At least she had. Wonderful, yes, but awkward. She knew it shouldn't have happened. She knew she had had no right to. Just like when she had kissed him a few days before. A spur-of-the-moment thing which got a bit out of hand. She told him so. She told him she was sorry, told him she shouldn't have taken advantage, told him she didn't have any right over him.
And he replied that she didn't take advantage. Then in the end, once their respective clothing were straightened, he had agreed to her statement that it had been a moment of madness, that it wouldn't happen again, that it could only interfere with his schooling and her studies, that they both were better than just mere bodies, that lust shouldn't get the better of their minds. That they should both forget it and get over it.
He had agreed, hadn't he? Or else... at least tacitly so, right?
She had told him that she was sorry, that she regretted, but inwardly she knew it was not totally true: she couldn't get herself to regret. It had been so... so...
So. No other word could do justice to it.
It was heart-wrenching for her, but it had to remain a one-time thing, a past fling. She resolved she would deprive herself of it, even at the price of enormous frustration, but they had to. Her schooling, his, her sanity, her reason were at stake, here.
And she stuck to this resolve. They stuck to it.
For two long weeks.
Ages, so to speak.
The second time, right after the renewed and unplanned roll in the hay, they had agreed that it was a relapse. A regrettable relapse. It had felt as wonderful as the first time, but as inconvenient too. The same objections to anything of that sort between them still existed.
After that, they had kept their mutual promise to abstain from each other's touch. And they had stood firm to it.
A whole month, this time.
And now, they had just given in to their weakness again. But on this third occurrence of their mutual desire getting the better of their will, for the first time they had at least taken the time to undress, to really undress during the foreplay. Well, in fact this time there had at least been some foreplay worthy of the name. So for the first time they had actually and fully experienced the feeling of each other's skin against their own. Or against their lips and tongues. It had felt... intoxicating, enhancing the already intense and wonderful sensations.
Beautiful, too. It had been the first time she had seen an entirely naked man's body, and she had enjoyed the sight very much.
So this is my bit for the secret Valentine exchange. It is for the the lovely and ver patient http://hetep-heres.tumblr.com/ and I hope you enjoy it
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11073547/1/Ag-athr%C3%BA
Thank you so much, that was so sweet!
And Sybil is suddenly feeling unsure of her place in Branson' heart -- and life! Feeling possibly endangered by another woman... Isn't that called jealousy, uh?
Lovely vintage Valentine card, by the way!
Thanks again, it was a really nice and touching story!
The gentle dame and the villein, or the new Heloise - Chapter 9
They were in 'their' workshop, it was late afternoon and as always since the day Mary had caught her near the stables with Branson, Sybil was carefully keeping a respectful distance of ten to twenty feet away from him; she had retreated to her new usual spot at the opposite side of the small room, as far as possible from his stool. And from his still very enticing neck. And hands. And cheeks. And jaw. And lips. And–
STOP!
Stop this immediately, she ordered herself.
Pure hell. And yet she was still there, day after day. Yet she was always coming back for more frustration. Something was probably being very wrong with her, that couldn't be otherwise.
She knew it could cost Branson dearly if she gave in to her lusty need, and the benefit of it probably wasn't worth the very high risk it would put him in. She had no right to endanger him that way. Not for her own benefit.
That's why she had decided to stay away from him as much as she physically could, this physical limit being right now the walls of the shed they were in. She was flattening herself against the wood, in a desperate attempt to put some more inches between herself and the object of her irrational desire.
Tom, for his part, had noted she had been acting... differently, for some time. She had been more distant, less enthusiastic. Cooler. More businesslike even, in her teaching. There was no more friendly banter, no more serious talk about what he was writing or dictating, no more exchange of ideas or of dreams. They had both reverted to their respective roles of master and servant, of tutor and pupil. She had also been more subdued and cautious around him.
It was bothering him. And even worrying him, too. He turned on his stool and stood up, taking a step to her. He saw her tense.
"Milady, did I do something wrong?"
The gentle dame and the villein, or the new Heloise - Chapter 8
Milady,
My own audacity doesn't cease to aghast me, but I finally decided to write you a letter. Of course, you will tell me, I have already written letters to you, sometimes even dictating these directly to you. Yes, I have; but these letters were about my views and ideas, about what I thought.
This one is about what I feel.
You told me one day that you envied the easiness I seemed to have to find words and with forming sentences to express myself. Well, perhaps this is the case as far as my thoughts and ideas are concerned. But now that I am facing this blank parchment I found that words don't come that easily to my mind when it comes down to translate my emotions into either written language or even spoken one, come to think of that. I am struggling with all this. With the words, and with my feelings, my emotions. I wish a language without words would exist to express the depth and strength and desperation but also the pure wonderment of what I am feeling.
For you.
Here, that's finally out. I know I have absolutely no right to, I know I'm nothing in this world, on this Earth. I might be nothing, but I know you are everything. And most of all, you are my everything. Not only I have no right to feel this for you, but I have even less the right to tell you so. But I am nearly suffocating under the weight of these feelings, and I know it has to come out or I would eventually stop breathing.
I love you.
Here. I've said it. Or rather written it.
The gentle dame and the villein, or the new Heloise - Chapter 7
"Sybil!" a woman's voice exclaimed just as she was coming out from the stable's storeroom. "What on earth were you doing in that shed?"
Oh no! Sybil groaned inwardly, Mary! Just my luck!
Indeed, Lady Mary was there, mounting a horse which had just been saddled and prepared for her by a stable boy. A stable boy who couldn't be Branson, since the latter had been in his 'study' – right here – with her for the last half an hour or so. And was still inside, as a matter of fact.
Best tactic: changing the subject of conversation, Sybil thought:
"Are you sure you should still be riding in your current state? I'm not convinced that's very safe!"
"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" she sighed. "I'm only pregnant, Sybil, not injured! I'm feeling perfectly well!"
"Seven months pregnant," Sybil emphasised. "Surely mother didn't–"
"Don't even try to divert the conversation, Sybil!" she cut her. "You're just trying to avoid my question, but I'll have none of that. Why were you hiding in that shack?"
"I wasn't hiding!" Sybil protested. "I just–"
But before she had time to elaborate, she saw her sister's eyes grow wide as she simultaneously heard the door behind her squeak open.
Caught.
"What... what was this man doing in there with you, Sybil?" Mary asked, pointing her riding crop accusingly at him.
He blanched: a simple word from her to her father and he would be as good as dead, no matter that nothing ever happened.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The gentle dame and the villein, or the new Heloise - Chapter 6
This was torture.
Pure, unadulterated torture.
She had tried to turn her attention to other men, but it didn't work. She thought she could find some man of her station who would share her purely physical needs, and indeed such men existed – there was a plethora of them – but she found out she didn't want any of them.
Not want in the way she wanted him.
Pfff... what a mess. Why did she have to feel this for one of the only men she morally wasn't allowed to have? And why wouldn't any other young man make the same sensations arise in her? The same desire?
For months and months now, she had been living in hell.
Well, no, not completely: being in his presence was hell, but it also somehow felt like heaven. Sweet and sour, fulfilling and depressing, burning and caressing, pleasant and painful, exciting and frustrating.
Bittersweet.
Tom couldn't concentrate; his mind and soul were entirely busy trying to come to grips with the stunning realisation that had just dawned on him.
This tremor... this sweet something tickling his belly and speeding up his heartbeats, this cold something spreading in his stomach, this warmth making his throat slightly dry...
Oh, no. Dear Lord, no!
Love.
He was in love. He had fallen in love. With her.
Her. The most wonderful, the kindest, the most compassionate, the most admirable young woman he knew. The most knowledgeable. The brightest person he had ever met. The best-read woman of the vicinity.
And the most unattainable.
"Señor Zorro, do you think Diego de la Vega could be leading a double life?"
Yes, I've started another fic, which means I'm currently writing 3 or 4 fics simultaneously. I know, I know... But inspiration struck, and I couldn't resist.
A love child, presumed paternity, plot twists, adventure, (sword)fights, father-son relationship, jealousies... and secret identity of course!
8 chapters now, I think I'll update in 10-15 day...
If you're allergic to ffnet, you can also read it on AO3 here : http://archiveofourown.org/works/3220694/chapters/7010510
Don't hesistate to leave reviews!