#Custom belt design

[arm-championship-belts]

Celebrate your fantasy football victory in style with our ARM Championship Belts Fantasy Football League Belt Spinner! Crafted with exquisite detail and quality materials by ARM Championship Belts, this spinner belt is the ultimate champion's trophy for your league.

The belt features a sleek design with intricate football-themed embellishments, making it a standout piece that will make any winner proud. The spinner mechanism adds an interactive element, allowing you to proudly display your championship year with a simple spin of the belt.

Made from durable materials, this ARM Championship Belts fantasy football belt is built to last and is the perfect way to immortalize your fantasy football triumphs for years to come. So, claim your rightful place as the league champion and showcase your victory with the ARM Championship Belts Fantasy Football League Belt Spinner!

[anede]

oh yeah, sketches of that assassin

[texasbuckles]

Sterling silver buckle Texas

The finest handcrafted buckles with superior craftsmanship are displayed in the Texas Buckles exhibition. With our assortment of timeless and contemporary styles, you may find the ideal sterling silver buckle.

[doomednarrative]

Goddamnit I'm gonna end up getting the Magnum Boost driver arent I

[thisisgraeme]

Discover the Craft of Leatherworking: A Beginner's Guide

Embark on a rewarding journey into the world of leatherworking! From basics to advanced techniques, discover how to craft beautiful, functional leather items. Projects include coasters, wallets, belts, and bags. Start your leather crafting adventure now!

Welcome to the enthralling world of leatherworking! This art has been a respected skill through the ages, and – if you’re reading this post – now it’s your turn to learn how to craft functional and beautiful items from a simple piece of leather. I’ve been writing about leatherwork off and on for a few years now. The time has come to consolidate this passion and knowledge into something more…

[blujayonthewing]

shoutout to the effects of Having OCs on my own personal aesthetic preferences: I could have predicted that teal/turquoises and purples would gain prominence in my already cool colors/ jeweltones heavy tastes but the floral pink was a surprise

[techdriveplay]

Sound On-The-Go: Ultimate Ears Unveils MINIROLL, an Ultra-Light Portable Speaker With Strap

Ultimate Ears, a brand under Logitech, has expanded its portable Bluetooth speaker lineup with the introduction of the MINIROLL. This ultra-light, compact speaker comes with a silicone strap for easy attachment, making it the perfect companion for any adventure, whether you’re biking, boating, or just carrying it on your bag or belt loop. With its sleek, river rock-inspired design and portable…

[fysanayairani]

Guest - Modern Bedroom Example of a huge minimalist guest carpeted bedroom design with white walls

[heartfeltsylvia]

Walk-In Closet Atlanta An illustration of a mid-sized, modern, gender-neutral walk-in closet with recessed-panel cabinets and light wood cabinets.

[nightingale-prompts]

Talents -DC X DP prompt

The public is aware that each of the Wayne children are creatively gifted. It was almost expected. Richard Grayson was the acrobatic of course and no one was surprised but highly praised. So many parents began putting their children in gymnastics after seeing Dick's performances.

Jason Todd took up writing and published his own books at the age of 13. Poetry, anthologies, and historical fiction were the genres he favored. His books still remain on the best-seller's list, especially after his death. His poetry book "Blackouts" is an emotional journey of everyday tragedies and miracles of life. People would often quote lines from his poems after tragic events.

Tim Drake was more elusive. No one knew what he did until his name came up under a national photography award. His album called "The Shades of Gotham" was a contract between parties of the wealthy and the impoverished citizens of Gotham.

Cassandra Cain kept to herself constantly. No one knew what she did for years. People assumed that Bruce Wayne stopped forcing his kids to perform and others argued that she just didn't have any talents to showcase. All wrong of course. Cassandra posted one of her recent projects online which proved she was very talented. It was a beautiful scarf she was making for the winter. Cassandra was gifted with a talent for textiles. She knitted, weaved, and sowed many of the clothes she was seen wearing. It was no secret that some of the clothes the Waynes wore could not be found anywhere else but people assumed they had a tailor to make custom designs but no one knew it was Cassandra.

Damian Wayne did not lag behind his siblings as she quickly showed off his artistic talents. He's still young so he hasn't gone as far as opening his first gallery but one of his paintings has already been put in a museum. Some call it nepotism but art is subjective. The other Waynes disagree since they have hung every art piece Damian makes in their offices and home right next to Tim's photos.

Duke Thomas isn't one to show off too much. But he does go all out in his hobbies. He secretly takes after Jason in writing poetry and has been inspired by "Blackout" since he first learned to read. Duck related to it deeply. But along the way, he learned a different way to express himself. Kids on the streets of Gotham learned a bit of breakdancing and Duke was no exception. Duke is an accomplished dancer and has gotten a few competitions under his belt now.

Now that there is a new member of the Wayne family the public is waiting to find out what Danny Nightingale's talent is. Everyone knew that Waynes were creative but honestly, no one expected this. A play was announced at Monarch Theater and none other then Danny's names was on the ticket as the star.

[augustinewrites]

satoru bday fic! cw: suggestive

gojo thinks he should be nominated for boyfriend of the year.

not only had he managed to get the kids to school on time, pick up the groceries, get all his reports in to principal yaga, and clean the kitchen, but he’d managed to do it all while extremely hungover on his birthday. 

he’d even managed to do it all before you’d even gotten out of bed.

he doesn’t blame you for sleeping in. the impromptu birthday party he’d thrown had left you all in quite the state by the early hours of morning. you need the re—

“satoru! could you come in here for a second?”

“coming!” he calls back, shoving the coupon that’d fallen from shoko’s birthday card into his wallet before making his way to the bedroom. “hey, let’s get some frozen yogurt when the kids get ho�� holy shit.”

your face breaks out into a grin of triumph at his sudden silence. gojo’s rightfully stunned, carefully studying each bit of revealing lace and the way it sits against your body before committing it to memory. 

“is that…”

“the set you had commissioned in paris,” you hum, nonchalant as you drag your fingertips up your hip. “that’s the one.”

he takes a few slow steps toward where you are and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, arousal warming his whole body. “but you said you’d never wear it because—”

“because i was saving it for something special,” you finish, leaning up and shifting towards him. “like your birthday.” 

“well,” he sighs as you close the distance between you. “i should unwrap my gift then.”

“please try not to tear it,” you murmur as his lips brush over your pulse. “i’d very much like to wear it again, and i, oh, i saw the charge on the credit card…”

his reply is no more than a distracted hum as you shift onto his lap, allowing curious hands to explore your body and hungry lips to move against yours. 

the lace is soft on your skin, his hands eagerly working to undo the ties holding up delicate florals and sheer material. 

“satoru, i need you.” your breath is warm against his skin, exciting him more as he goes to pull off garter belt.

“uh, babe?”

“hm?”

“how do you take this off?”

_____

“well, i connected it to this piece—”

“but we can’t take this piece off unless we take this one off too. that doesn’t make any sense.” 

“i’m telling you, that’s how i put it on.”

“then why won’t it come off?”

it’s then that gojo decides custom lingerie should come with instructions. when he’d designed it, he hadn’t actually considered the logistics of this operation.

“okay,” you huff, turning around and placing your hands on his shoulders. “you’re just going to have to tear it.”

“fine by me,” he grins, slightly smug as he curls his fingers around the expensive material and tears—

the two of you scramble up when the front door slams open. it’s in that moment you realize that satoru hadn’t closed the bedroom door. 

“mom!” you hear megumi shout, his stomps echoing through the apartment. “tsumiki ate one of my snacks!”

“shit, fuck.” cursing, you grab his discarded t-shirt and slip it on before jumping into bed. satoru slips in next to you, pulling the duvet up to your chins and pressing against you from behind.

“satoru!” you hiss when you feel something poke the back of your thigh. 

“we just made out for like ten minutes,” he whispers back, only pulling you closer. “you didn’t think i’d get one?”

“put it away!”

“i could, but—”

you manage to summon one of your divine dogs in time for it push the bedroom door closed, breathing a sigh of relief when the kid’s footsteps come to a halt. 

“we’ll be out in a second!” you call, hearing their hushed argument as they trudge back to the kitchen.

“i might need more than a second…”

you hit satoru in the face with a pillow. “you’ll get the rest of your birthday gift tonight, after you drop the kids off at nanami’s.

[arm-championship-belts]

Kickboxing, a sport that combines the art of punching and kicking, has a rich history that dates back centuries. From its origins in ancient Asia to its modern-day popularity around the globe, kickboxing has evolved into a highly competitive and respected martial art. One of the most iconic aspects of kickboxing is the championship belt, which symbolizes the pinnacle of achievement in the sport. In this blog post, we will explore the evolution of kickboxing belts, from their humble beginnings to their current status as coveted symbols of excellence.

[armchampionshipbelts1]

Custom championship belts

Custom championship belts have become an integral part of professional wrestling culture, serving as a tangible symbol of a wrestler's achievements and legacy. While traditional championship belts are often provided by promotions, custom championship belts allow wrestlers to create a personalized championship title that reflects their personality, style, and accomplishments.

The History of Championship Belts in Wrestling

Championship belts have been a fixture of professional wrestling for over a century, with the first recognized wrestling championship dating back to the 1880s. In the early days of wrestling, championship belts were often handmade and passed down from wrestler to wrestler. As wrestling grew in popularity and became more organized, promotions began creating their own championship belts to signify their top titles.

Over time, championship belts became more elaborate and ornate, with larger plates and more intricate designs. The most iconic championship belt in wrestling history is arguably the WWE Championship belt, which has undergone several design changes over the years but remains a symbol of excellence in the wrestling world.

The Rise of Custom Championship Belts

While traditional championship belts remain an important part of wrestling culture, custom championship belts have become increasingly popular in recent years. With the rise of independent wrestling promotions and social media, wrestlers are looking for ways to stand out and create a unique identity. Custom championship belts allow wrestlers to showcase their individuality and accomplishments in a way that traditional belts cannot.

Custom championship belts are typically designed and created by specialized companies that work with wrestlers to bring their vision to life. The design process involves choosing the size and shape of the plates, selecting materials for the strap and any additional embellishments, and incorporating any custom logos or artwork. The end result is a championship belt that is truly one-of-a-kind and reflects the wrestler's personality and accomplishments.

The Benefits of Custom Championship Belts

Custom championship belts offer several benefits over traditional belts. First and foremost, they allow wrestlers to create a unique identity and stand out in a crowded marketplace. Custom belts can also help increase a wrestler's visibility and social media presence, as fans are more likely to share photos and videos of a unique and personalized championship title.

Custom belts also offer a way to honor a wrestler's accomplishments in a more meaningful way. While traditional championship belts are often handed out as part of a storyline, custom belts are a tangible symbol of a wrestler's achievements and can be passed down as a legacy to future generations.

The Design and Creation of Custom Championship Belts

The design and creation of a custom championship belt is a complex process that requires careful consideration of many factors. The first step is to choose a company that specializes in custom championship belts and work with them to develop a design concept. This may involve creating sketches or 3D models to ensure that the design is feasible and visually appealing.

Once the design concept is finalized, the company will begin the process of creating the belt. This typically involves creating metal plates that are etched or engraved with the design, as well as crafting a leather strap to hold the plates together. Additional embellishments such as jewels, faux fur, or LED lights may also be added, depending on the wrestler's preferences.

The Cost of Custom Championship Belts

Custom championship belts can be expensive, with prices ranging from a few hundred to several thousand dollars depending on the complexity of the design and materials used. However, the investment is often worth it for wrestlers and promotions looking to create a lasting impression and elevate the prestige of their championships.

The Future of Custom Championship Belts

Custom championship belts are not a new concept, but they have become increasingly popular in recent years. As technology advances and new materials become available, the possibilities for custom championship belts will only continue to grow. Custom belts may even become a standard feature of wrestling championships, with wrestlers and promotions alike recognizing the value of creating a unique and personalized championship title.

FAQs about Custom Championship Belts

Are custom championship belts only for professional wrestlers?

No, anyone can order a custom championship belt for their own personal use, such as for cosplay or as a trophy for a competition.

Can I design my own custom championship belt?

Yes, many custom championship belt companies offer design services and will work with you to create a unique and personalized championship belt.

How long does it take to create a custom championship belt?

The production time for custom championship belts can vary depending on the complexity of the design and the availability of materials. It is important to communicate with the company to determine a timeline for your specific project.

How do I take care of my custom championship belt?

Custom championship belts should be kept in a safe and secure location when not in use. Leather straps should be conditioned regularly to prevent cracking or deterioration. Metal plates can be polished with a soft cloth to maintain their shine.

Can custom championship belts be used in actual wrestling matches?

While custom championship belts are typically used for promotional purposes and not in actual wrestling matches, some promotions may choose to incorporate them into their storylines. It is important to communicate with the promotion or venue to determine their policies regarding championship belts.

[thesecondhandwoman]

ANOTHER REPAIR

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: It was a normal day at the workshop all up until Sevika came in, battered and bruised, and her mechanical arm was much worse. The perfect job for a mechanic with a heart.

You were working on a new piece you recently designed for a customer, magnifying glass dangling infront of your eyes, a pair of tweezers in your hand as the thin, gripping metal clung to a miniature yet necessary trinket for the object. You had finally aligned it perfectly before the workshop door swung open, the flimsy wood slamming into the wall, causing a few things to shake, including the table. You let out a startled cuss as your hand jerked forward, causing the miniature piece to go flying out from the tweezers and somewhere on the floor, again.

How fun that was going to be looking for later, or it will be even funner dealing with an angry customer and whatever weapon that one carried this time, you thought with a groan.

You turned on your chair, already fuming, ready to yell at whoever was retarted enough to swing the pieces of wood that was considered a “door” that hard despite the constant warnings. However, the words were unable to leave your lips when you were met with a familiar tall, muscular figure: Sevika.

She was leaning against the wall in a drowsy manner, her body battered to the extent where she was covered in cuts and bruises. Her hand, too, was in the same condition, shattered and wrecked. She looked exhausted but angry, which wasnt a surprise for you, a person who saw both the “Lioness of Zaun” and the actual Sevika.

“Just tell me you can fix this shit.” She said between a grunt, pushing herself off the wall and towards you, a slight limp in her step. “Some jackasses jumped me at the last minute and wrecked the piece of junk to scrap.”

“I,” you were barely able to finish your sentence as Sevika dropped the heavy mechanical arm on your desk, causing you to not only lose the small trinket to the floor today, but the entire piece. “Sevika!” you choked out as you watched the trinket shatter before quickly looking back up at her.

Sevika only gave a small glare before scoffing like she did nothing or what she did didn’t matter, maybe both. She then proceeded to crash onto your couch, letting out a pained groan as her battered body sunk into the slightly uncomfortable cushions. But that was obviously the last thing on her mind at the moment as she ached when cuts and bruises, able to feel each and every ghost of the beating she received from some other scumbags.

You glanced back at her before sighing, pushing your chair back with your feet until it rolled over to the couch, slowing down right infront of her. You lowered the seat and glanced up at her before grabbing the little medical pouch (mainly for you and your repetive, clumsy accidents) from your belt pouch. You were opening an alcohol wipe pack, ready to apply it to a cut when Sevika stopped you. Her hand clutched your wrist, making your breath hitch as your eyes quickly darted to her in slight surprise.

“What the hell are you doing?’ She asked, using that dangerously ticked off and defensive tone she used on other Zaunites or henchmen of Silco. Her grip grew tighter, eyeing the wipe suspiciously like you drenched it in acid or some fatal drug.

“It’s called patching you up. Now hold still, I dont want to hurt you.” You said softly, trying to coax her into letting you help her and the various damage that was evident on her body. Your heart ached a little everytime you saw the effects of being a Zaunite, even by other Zaunites, all because this is the undercity, a place where scumbags and scraps were tossed to make the city above clean and cleansed.

Sevika paused momentarily, eyeing the wipe a little longer before her eyes met yours. She let out a sigh and slowly released your wrist, allowing you to push it forward once more and wipe at the cut beneath her eye. She winced a little at the small sting, trying to cover up the sound of weakness with a casual grunt. But based on the way her brows furrowed and her jaw clenched, it was obvious that it did hurt a bit, and would get worse as you got to the wounds that were much worse.

As you were wiping a wound on her chin, she jerked back a bit a little when it hurt again, letting out a frustrated grunt before cussing. “God fucking dammit–”

“Shh,” you interupted as you cupped her cheek, leaning forward again, your chest against hers. You looked up at her eyes again before your eyes trailed back down to her cut, staring at her lips for a few seconds before focususing again. “I’m almost done, just try and relax.”

Her eyes wided a bit when your soft skin wrapped around her cheek, her lips becoming a thin line as she glanced at you. She stared at you in temporary shock before she forced herself to relax again at the cold touch of the wipe, sinking into the touch of your palm a bit to try and anchor herself. Her greys softened, her eyes trained on you and you only now, watching each and every expression you had as you eyed her cuut. Her hand slowly met your thigh to make sure you werent gonna accidentally slip on the moveable chair, a common action that she did when you had softened her down a bit, showing the difference between the “Lioness of Zaun” and the real Sevika.

A smile crept onto your face when you felt her calloused fingers on your skin, gripping the muscle of your thigh in a protective hold. You found it slightly cute, knowing that you had successfully coaxed her again. But you tried to ignore it as you continued down her body, patching up the other cuts and bruises that you found. You only stopped when you came around her hips and lower, glancing up at her. “You arent hurt down here right?”

Those grays met yours as you asked the simple question, a glint slightly in them when she realized what you were talking about. She cleared her throat when she saw your eyes trained on her, those eyes so innocent and puppy-like despite the second, more dirty meaning of the question you had just asked out of concern. It made her clear her throat before she nodded.

“I’m fine down there, doll.” she huffed, glancing away and leaning into the couch more. “Now can you get back to my damn arm so I have something to punch those scumbags with later?”

You were a bit surprised at the sudden change in topics, but didnt question further as you chuckled. “Okay, okay, I’m getting to it, Vika, baby.” you teased before getting back up, pushing your chair back towards your desk, spinning back infront of it.

Sevika scoffed a little as she watched you twirl in your obnoxious, spinny chair before glancing back down at her patched up bandages. She growled a little at the way she felt her cheeks flush, especially when she realized all of the colorful bandages you put on her, rolling her eyes despite how cute she found it.

[busra-tr]

TIMELESS Denim Revolution Part 1 (AUG #2)

Hey there, lovely followers!

We are thrilled to introduce our brand new collection, Timeless Denim Revolution, crafted with love by Busra-tr, Mermalade, and Daph's! 🎉

This collection features a total of 10 unique pieces, with 6 of them being different denim designs that are sure to become wardrobe staples. Each piece is carefully designed to bring out the timeless elegance and versatility of denim, making sure you can stay stylish and comfortable at the same time.

Timeless Denim Revolution is a two-part collection, and today, we are excited to release the first part just for you! The first part of the collection includes a minimalist polo shirt paired with an asymmetric denim skirt, a little black dress with a stylish denim jacket, and a loose denim dress with a chic belt detail. In this collection, we are offering you both package files and blend files to enhance your experience. Rediscover your style with our new collection and add a touch of denim sophistication to your wardrobe! 🔥

These stunning pieces are now available! Visit our pages to explore the first part of the collection and find your favorites.

PART 1 LOOKS;

10 Opitons

_________

Adult-Elder-Teen-Young Adult

For Female

————–

Compatible with HQ mod-

New Mesh

All Lods

Custom thumbnail

Early Access ( Avaible 24.11.2024)

**-Please do not re upload or claim as yours feel free to re color but do not include the mesh .

DOWNLOAD PATREON

MERMALADE'S LOOK;

→DOWNLOAD←  

 DAPH'S LOOK;

→DOWNLOAD←

Thanks to @saffirabluu for these amazing photos 💗

I hope you like them.  ♥

💖 You can check out my Patreon for special cc and other early access content. 💖

[austinbutlerslovers]

Silk & Silence 

Label Mature 18+

Summary After your celebratory anniversary takes a dark turn, you press Patrick to finally commit to marriage—but his chilling reaction leaves you speechless.

⚠️ Hardcore Smut ⚠️  Patrick having a mental break • toxic relationship dynamics •power play• name calling •gagged with a silk tie• retrained with a belt• edging • sweet talk • dirty talk •coercion• orgasms used as leverage nipple play • fingering • clit play• bj infront of a mirror•sex in front of a mirror •Patrick reaching climax seeing the reflection • orgasms •cream pie • mild aftercare

Proofreader @purejasmine 🎊 🥂 Happy New Year 🥂 🎊

Silk & Silence

The restaurant is a masterpiece of modern Manhattan opulence. Sleek marble floors gleam under chandeliers that sparkle like falling stars, while waiters glide between tables dressed in sharp black and white uniforms.

Your handsome fiancé Patrick sits across from you in the corner booth, the epitome of control.

His designer suit is tailored to perfection as he taps a manicured finger against the stem of his martini glass. His expression is distant as you finish a story about a mutual friend.

“And then she decided to wear that dress—can you believe it?” you say with a giddy laugh, leaning back against the booth.

Patrick’s sharp gaze flicks to you, his jaw tightening slightly.

-Her voice sometimes. The pitch, the arrogance of her laughter, but the way she looks sitting there…

His eyes wander as he studies your appearance. You are flawless, a trophy of the same elite world he navigates with ease, a reflection of his own carefully curated image.

His eyes fall to the Tiffany bracelet on your wrist catching the light, a shimmering token of his devotion tonight—or at least his obligation.

The Valentino dress he purchased for the occasion accentuates your body to perfection, custom-tailored especially for you—which, of course, it was.

Nothing but the best for his princess.

But then his gaze suddenly hardens, as if some unpleasant thought has resurfaced.

-Why does she care so much about things that don’t matter? The incessant talking—details, plans, nonsense—it’s exhausting.

“Patrick you even listening to me?” you ask, a hint of irritation creeping into your voice.

He blinks slowly, setting his glass down with deliberate precision. “Of course I’m listening,” he says evenly, though his voice carries a thin edge of mockery. “It’s just riveting to hear yet another story about someone’s poor fashion choices.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why do you have to be like that Patrick?”

“Like what?” He tilts his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Honest?”

“Patrick, you’re impossible sometimes,” you snap, crossing your arms. “You act like you’re above everyone. Even me.”

His smirk fades slightly, replaced by a calculating expression his eyes sharp and unrelenting. “If you’re so miserable with me,” he says quietly, his tone calm but dangerous, “then why are you still here?”

You open your mouth to retort, but his words cut deeper than you expected. The tension between you is undeniable, and the hum of conversations in the restaurant around you suddenly feels oppressive.

Tears well in your eyes as you frown, struggling to mask the hurt. You love him and you don’t understand why at times he has to be so cold.

You let out a huff, your emotions threatening to spill over as you fan back unshed tears with dramatic flicks of your manicured hands.

“I went through so much to look perfect for you tonight, Patrick,” you whisper sharply, your tone petulant, laced with just enough hurt to demand his attention.

Patrick exhales slowly, his gaze darting around the restaurant before leaning forward, his voice smooth and controlled.

“Let’s not make a scene here,” he says, his tone low and deceptively soft as his sharp gaze locks onto yours radiating a silent command of obedience.

He signals the waiter with a simple raise of his hand, and within moments, the check is handled, his black AmEx card gliding across the table. You barely have time to protest before he stands, buttoning his suit jacket.

“Let’s go,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The sleek black limo idles on a quiet side street not far from the elite restaurant. Patrick slides into the seat beside you his posture controlled as he adjusts the cuffs of his jacket.

“You didn’t have to be so rude on our anniversary, Patrick,” you say, your voice tinged with frustration as you glance at him, your arms crossed as your lips form a slight pout. “I just want us to enjoy the evening. To be together. Isn’t that what tonight is supposed to be about?” you ask sweetly, hoping to soften the tension.

Patrick doesn’t respond. He gazes out the window, his expression unchanging as the city lights blur past, casting sharp, angular shadows across his flawless face.

You try again, undeterred, launching into a topic you’re sure will catch his attention, your voice bright and animated as you attempt to regain his favor.

“Now that it’s our one-year anniversary, we should definitely hire the planner and finalize our guest list,” you say, smiling as your fingers brush lightly against his arm. “Everyone who’s anyone will want to attend. It’s going to be the event of the year,” you continue, your tone brimming with enthusiasm, completely immersed in the vision of grandeur.

Patrick listens with a vacant expression, though his mind is anything but.

-She never stops. She’s Always talking. Always planning. It’s incessant. Like white noise that gets louder and louder until it’s deafening.

-How much longer can I keep up this façade?

His jaw tightens, though he maintains the mask of polite detachment as you chatter on.

“..There should be lots of chocolate truffles. Godiva, of course. Nothing less than the best, and oysters on the half shell. Oh! And we’ll need a videographer, Patrick. It has to be perfect.” you say, your tone certain.

When he doesn’t respond you touch him lightly on his thigh, oblivious to the simmering tension beneath his calm exterior.

“Patrick, we should do it.”

His head turns slightly, his eyes narrowing as he finally looks at you. “Do what?” He asks his voice clipped, his tone barely masking his irritation.

“Get married silly” you exclaim, looking at him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Finally have the wedding. Can’t you picture it? Everyone would be there, it would be so chic, Patrick.”

His jaw tightens, and he looks back out the window, his voice flat. “No. I can’t take the time off work.”

You laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “Patrick, your father practically owns the company. You can do anything you like.”

He turns back to you, his sharp gaze cutting through your playful tone. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he says coldly, his voice dropping a degree.

“But Patrick,” you press, “you hate that job anyway. I don’t see why you don’t just quit. It’s not like you need the money.”

His gaze hardens, his voice quiet but each word pointed. “Because I want to fit in.”

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by his intensity.

The limo slows to a stop in front of his building, and Patrick steps out without another word, his sharp movements betraying his rising frustration.

You are quick to follow him, your heels clicking behind him as he strides toward the entrance of his penthouse.

The elevator ride is quiet with Patrick’s back turned toward you as you study him.

Something about his silence feels heavy, different from his usual cool demeanor.

Once inside his immaculate penthouses he shrugs off his jacket off, his jaw clenching as he throws it over the back of a chair, the silence between you filled with unspoken tension.

“Patrick, are you mad?” you ask carefully, your heels clicking against the marble floors as you follow him into the bedroom. “You know I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Patrick’s gaze turns to you, cold and unblinking as you enter the room.

-She never stops. Always talking, always complaining.

Patrick’s hands move to loosen his tie, his movements rushed and unfocused, each motion sharp with barely restrained tension.

“Do you ever stop to think before you speak?” he says finally, his voice low and razor sharp, each word slicing through the charged silence.

You glare at him, your brows furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you demand, your voice rising in defiance.

“It means,” he says, stepping closer, “that you’re exhausting. Your whining, your constant need for validation—do you ever get tired of hearing yourself?”

Your breath catches as your heart pounds harder in anger. “Patrick you’re such a prick,” you finally snap.

Patrick’s smirk returns, but this time it’s darker, more dangerous. “And you’re a spoiled little brat who doesn’t know when to stop.”

Before you can respond, he moves with unsettling precision, pulling his tie off and slipping it between your lips.

“Shhh,” he whispers, pulling the silk tight to stifle your protests as his cold gaze locks onto yours. “Since you don’t know when to keep quiet, I’ll do it for you.”

Your hands instinctively fly up to tug at the gag, but Patrick is faster seizing your wrists, forcing them behind your back together in his single unyielding hand.

His free hand moves to his belt, unfastening the buckle before he slides the leather free with an audible snap.

Your eyes widen in alarm, panic flaring in your chest as he wraps the belt around your wrists, pulling the leather tight and securing it against your skin.

You muffle his name against the gag in panic, twisting your wrists to break free, but it’s futile against his makeshift restraint.

Your gaze locks with his, and the devious smirk on his lips paired with the cold triumph in his eyes confirms what you already know—you’re under his control.

Without hesitation, he lifts you up over his shoulder as though you weight nothing. Your stomach presses against his broad shoulder as his arm tightens around the back of your thighs holding you firmly in place.

You kick your legs, your body writhing in resistance, but your struggle is futile against his strength. Your panic rises as he strides toward the bed and tosses you down with ease, the motion stealing your breath.

Your heart pounds as he steps closer, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you onto your back. His touch is firm, his dominance undeniable.

Your wide eyes meet his, and for a moment, you’re frozen. His gaze is unreadable, a mix of satisfaction and something far darker.

His hand slides up, lightly wrapping around your throat, the rhythm of your pulse thundering against his palm.

-I could end it right here—right now. Silence this perfect façade for my hollow existence.

The war inside him flickers briefly in his expression, shifting from cold determination to a shadow of hesitation.

Then his thumb brushes softly along your jawline, almost reverently, his sharp eyes studying your face, lingering on every detail.

-Why waste something so perfect?

-People see her on my arm, and they don’t question. They envy. And isn’t that what matters? Appearance. Power. Control.

His jaw clenches tightly, the tension flickering in his eyes before his face falls effortlessly back into its mask of detachment.

-She’s flawed, yes—but manageable. Moldable.

His hand softly trails down your chest, his eyes gleaming with barely contained lust.

His fingers splay over your breast and as he squeezes softly you pitifully whimper against the gag, his smirk deepening as his gaze flicks back to your face.

“You’re so used to getting your way, aren’t you?” he rasps, his tone dripping with mockery. “Now look at you—bound, silenced, and completely at my mercy.” He confirms, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

You turn your face away, desperate to deny his words, but his hand moves to your jaw, gripping it firmly and forcing you to meet his piercing gaze.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispers, the edge of dominance unmistakable as his hand returns to cup your breast. “You’re exactly how I want you—perfect, helpless, and entirely for my satisfaction.”

His thumb grazes over your hardened nipple, the friction of his touch through the thin fabric of your dress igniting a surge of arousal through you as your pride tries desperately to resist him.

Patrick’s smirk widens, his eyes flickering with satisfaction as he studies the flush spreading across your cheeks, the subtle betrayal of your body as your chest rises and falls unsteadily under his hand.

“You’re too spoiled for your own good,” he taunts, his thumb circling your nipple slower, coaxing soft whimpers from your lips as his touch dissolves any resistance into undeniable arousal.

Your hips shift instinctively, the slickness between your thighs exposing the desire you’re so desperately trying to suppress.

“My entitled little brat,” he taunts, his voice low and razor sharp seeing the way your body moves sensually giving itself away. “So desperate to be controlled.”

You whimper against the gag and he brings his other hand into play, teasing both of your nipples at once. He circles and flicks them with agonizing precision, drawing out your frustration and arousal until the sensation becomes unbearable.

He pinches the sensitive peaks between his fingers, pulling hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure and pain coursing through you.

A muffled whine escapes you against the gag as your thighs tighten instinctively feeling a rush of heat flood your core.

His smirk deepens at your reaction, a flicker of triumph lighting his face as his eyes lock onto yours. “See how easy it is when you don’t fight me?” he taunts, his tone dripping with dark amusement. “Your body knows exactly who it belongs to.”

Your mind races, a war of defiance and surrender raging inside you. Part of you wants to hate him for the control he wields over you, for the way he reads your every reaction and uses it against you. But another part—a part you barely recognize, craves the way he dominates you, the way he effortlessly takes your body under his control.

His hand moves lower, his fingers trailing down your stomach with maddening slowness, the thin fabric of your dress bunching beneath his touch.

His thoughts linger as his eyes roam over you bound and vulnerable beneath him.

—She’s so perfect like this. Silent. Submissive

—I want her this way forever.

His hand slides up your thigh, slipping under the hem of your dress, his thumb pressing against the soaked fabric of your panties.

You involuntary moan feeling the slick wetness of how much you crave him and your hips shift instinctively into his touch pleading for more.

His grin deepens, the dark glint in his eyes revealing just how much he revels in your surrender.

“You’ll learn,” he responds, his voice low and commanding, the faintest edge of mockery lacing his words. “You’ll learn when to speak and when to stay silent. And when you do… I’ll reward you.” His sharp gaze never leaves yours as his fingers tease the edge of your panties. Your legs part instinctively, desperate for more, but his movements are slow and methodical.

“If we are to be married,” he continues, his tone calm and calculated, “Those are the rules. Do you understand?”

You nod frantically, your breath catching as his fingers slip beneath the fabric to meet your wetness.

The soft strokes of his fingertips against your slick heat sends shivers through your body, your thighs pressing against his hand as you look at him with worshipful eyes.

He drags the pad of his thumb over your clit in agonizing tight circles making you writhe in bliss, his smirk deepening, with satisfaction as he watches you submit.

“Good girl,” he praises as the gag muffles the desperate whimpers and moans spilling out of you. “No one wants to hear a spoiled brat begging,” he confirms, his words as intoxicating as they are degrading.

The first thrust of his fingers inside you makes you clench involuntarily around them, your wetness easing them deeper as he strokes against a sensitive spot with maddening precision.

The tension in your core tightens with every thrust, the slick sounds of your arousal mingling with your muffled cries as his thumb circles your clit in perfect sync with the relentless pace of his fingers.

A sob catches in your throat as the pressure inside builds impossibly tighter. Your body trembles, the overwhelming sensation making your thighs quake as your head falls back and you moan against the gag.

“You’re already so close,” he whispers darkly, his voice dripping with sadistic satisfaction. “So easy to break. So desperate for me to let you come.”

The silk tie muffles your moans as your hips push instinctively against his hand, every muscle in your body tightening as he holds you on the edge, commanding your pleasure.

Tears prick your eyes as your thighs tremble uncontrollably, your mind going blank as you feel the overwhelming surge of your orgasm.

A broken sob escapes your lips, the sheer intensity leaving you breathless, your body arching and surrendering fully, powerless against the pleasure he’s drawing from you.

One last pitiful whimper escapes your lips as he slips his fingers from you, his eyes glinting with smug satisfaction.

“Look at you,”He grins savoring the sight of his handiwork.

“Completely spent,” he says softly, his smirk widening as his eyes trail over your trembling form.

Your chest heaves and your skin flushes, the dazed look in your eyes showing just how completely he’s unraveled you.

“My spoiled little fiancée ruined already?” he asks, his hands moving to unbutton his pristine white dress shirt. “You’re not finished proving yourself to me yet.” He confirms.

The first reveal of his chiseled torso is like a work of art—his broad, commanding shoulders tapering to a lean waist, every muscle perfectly proportioned and sculpted to perfection.

His smooth skin divots over his defined torso, the deep lines of his abs drawing your gaze downward.

With equal precision, he unfastens his dress pants, lowering them to reveal his long thick cock, the sight making your pulse quicken.

He kneels in front of you on the bed with a commanding presence, pulling you on your knees.

His sharp jawline tightens as he guides you level to his waist, his eyes dark with intent, the corner of his mouth curling into a knowing smirk.

“Now “He says, his voice low and commanding. “Let’s use that pretty little mouth for what it’s good for hm?” he taunts, undoing the silk tie gagging you and letting it fall from your lips.

His smirk deepens as his he looks to the mirror across from the bed, the reflection capturing every detail of your submission with your wrists still bound tightly behind your back.

He pulls you possessively closer, his cock now inches from your face as he watches the scene in the reflection. “Open your mouth for me,” he orders, his voice smooth but heavy with dominance.

You obediently part your lips, and he guides his cock into your mouth. The tip presses against your tongue, warm and heavy, before he pushes deeper. Your lips widen to accommodate him, your eyes lifting to meet his as he fills your mouth completely.

He hums low in his throat, his satisfaction undeniable as his hand tangles in your hair, holding you steady as he begins to gently thrust. “You should see yourself,” he rasps, his voice rough with pleasure, his eyes locked on the mirror. “On your knees, looking so eager, so desperate to please me—my spoiled little brat is finally doing something useful.”

You moan against his cock his words humiliating yet exhilarating and the reflection captures every detail; the way your cheeks hollow as you take him deeper, your bound wrists trembling slightly behind you, and the flush on your face deepening as he guides his cock smoothly back and forth in your mouth.

Patrick’s sharp jaw tightens, his breaths quickening as his hips thrust slightly harder the wet sounds of your mouth meeting him on every push.

Your eyes water slightly as he thrusts deeper, hitting the back of your throat, but you don’t pull away. Your body reacts instinctively, a soft gag escaping you and he groans, his hand tightening in your hair with a possessive grip.

The sounds of his pleasure vibrate through the air, his voice faltering for the first time as he looks down at you. “You’re so good at this—we’re finally putting that mouth of yours to proper use.”

His words cut through you, the mix of degradation and praise sending a wave of heat coursing through your core. You whimper softly, the vibration drawing another guttural groan from him as his hips push forward, rougher and deeper.

His sharp gaze flicks to the mirror, catching the sight of himself thrusting into your mouth, your bound form kneeling submissively before him.

His eyes lock on the way you take him as deeply as you can, the desperate need to satisfy him overpowering any lingering thought or resistance.

A ragged groan tears from his chest, as the tightness of your throat milks another groan from him.

His pace becomes relentless the muscles in his thighs tensing, as he meets your mouth and a deep groan escapes from his chest as his control slips for a moment.

His grip on your hair tightens, guiding you in sync with his movements, each thrust deliberate but increasingly unrestrained.

The sight of himself in the mirror—his cock thrusting between your lips, your eyes watering yet locked onto his, drives him to the edge, his breath coming faster, rougher.

His hips stutter for a fraction of a second, and with a sharp intake of breath, he pulls out abruptly, his cock glistening with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip as you gasp for air.

With one swift movement he pushes you onto your back pressing your bound wrists into the mattress.

His gaze never leaves yours as he takes hold of your ankles, lifting your legs effortlessly. The smooth leather of your heels brushes against his arms as he guides your feet to rest just above his shoulders, framing his head.

His hands grip the front of your thighs, the sight of your body, exposed and vulnerable beneath him, brings a dark glint to his eyes. His sharp smirk grows as he looks to the mirror, his gaze shifting between your reflection and your flushed face.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror,” he instructs, his voice low and commanding as he reaches between your legs and pulls your slick panties aside. “You’re going to see just how perfectly you take me”

You watch as he holds your legs to him and slowly presses the head of his hard cock into you, the slick tip causing a surge of arousal to flood through your core.

He watches your reaction in the mirror as your head falls back, your soft whimpers escaping freely with out the silk gag in place.

“Look at us,” he says, his voice low and laced with pride, his eyes fixed on your reflections. “We look perfect together.”

Your breath catches as his hips press forward, the blunt tip of his cock breaching you with excruciating slowness. The stretch is overwhelming, your walls gripping tightly as he fills you inch by inch.

A broken moan escapes your lips as he begins to thrust himself deep inside, the slick heat of your arousal making the glide seamless and all consuming.

Patrick’s gaze shifts back to yours, a flicker of dark satisfaction crossing his features as he settles his cock fully within you.

You tremble under him, bound and completely at his mercy, his smirk deepening with the power of your surrender.

His hands grip your thighs firmly, holding them in place as he pulls back slightly, his hips snapping forward with measured precision.

The force of his thrusts knocks the breath from your lungs, your back arching instinctively as raw gasps escape you.

You can’t help but surrender to his control, your eyes fluttering, dazed and unfocused, overwhelmed by the sensation of pleasure surging through you.

He holds your legs pinned to his torso, your heels brushing against his ears as his cock strokes relentlessly against the sensitive spot inside you.

The intensity is almost unbearable, yet you crave more, your body clinging to the overwhelming bliss.

You moan loudly, your voice filling the air as your hands flex against your bindings. The sensation of him filling you, and overpowering you making you desperate for the release only he can provide.

It’s so much—too much—but the thought of him stopping now is unbearable, your body craving each powerful thrust as a cascade of pleasure courses through you.

“Look how well you take me,” he praises, his voice filled with satisfaction, his sharp eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror desperately aroused by the sight of you together.

His grip tightens, his fingers digging into your shins, pinning your calves to his chest. The wet sound of your arousal echoes through the room as his unyielding thrusts send shockwaves through your core.

Patrick’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, each one forcing broken cries from your lips.

The glide of his cock moving in and out on every thrust sends a surge of pleasure through your bodies that builds to a fever pitch.

Your hips rock instinctively against him, your cries spilling freely as your body surrenders completely to him.

Patrick’s hands slide down to the curve of your hips, gripping firmly as he pulls you even closer, forcing you to take every inch of his cock.

The slick heat of your arousal makes each movement seamless yet devastating, the stretch of him filling you completely pushing you toward the brink.

His sharp gaze flickers between you and the mirror, his breaths coming in rough, steady pants as he watches your reflection.

The sight of your flushed face, your body arching in rhythm as the thrusts his hardest sending a thrill of satisfaction through him.

“Look at us,” he commands, his voice edged with pride, his hips thrusting against you as his hands grip your waist “Look how perfect we look together.”

You moan as his grip tightens, his fingers pressing into your skin as his pace becomes punishing. The mirrored reflection of your bodies moving together with his perfect physique dominating yours pushes you over the edge.

The tension inside you coils impossibly tight, then snaps with unbearable pleasure as your orgasm hits. Your body arches violently, a broken scream escaping your lips as waves of ecstasy crash over you.

Patrick thrusts relentlessly, driving you through the aftershocks as his sharp gaze remains fixed on the mirror watching you orgasm beneath him with dark, unrestrained pleasure.

His cock is throbbing as he glides into your fluttering walls with powerful thrusts. The slickness allows him to bury himself so deeply the stretch makes you gasp as he grips you tightly, pulling you flush against him.

The room fills with the sounds of your pleasure as his groans turn primal, his thrusts raw and unrestrained as he reaches his peak.

“So perfect—” he groans, his voice breaking as he loses himself completely. “My spoiled little fiancée… serving me so flawlessly.”

He holds you still as comes, filling you with his release in surges, his body shuddering as he empties himself into you, his hands gripping you so tightly it feels like he’s branding you.

He stills for a moment, breathing heavily, his sharp gaze meeting yours with undeniable satisfaction.

He lets your legs down gently, his hands lingering on your thighs for a moment longer, his cock still throbbing until he slips out of you.

Exhausted he lays on the bed, both of your chests heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Patrick unfastens his belt form your wrists, his hands moving to your waist as he pulls you against his chest. For a moment there’s only silence, the faint sound of your breathing filling the room as he holds you close.

His intensity softens as he strokes your shoulder, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint smirk.

-She definitely has her uses—that mouth, she’s a natural talent, and her body, perfectly made for my indulgence.

-If she learns to stay quiet when needed, to obey without hesitation—I might keep her …..permanently

As you look up at Patrick he says nothing simply holding you against him. His heart slows, the tension between you both melting into a rare moment of intimacy.

You offer him a soft smile, and his smirk remains savoring the fact that for now the silence is perfect.

END 🔪

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