#custom anklet with name

[kaash-customs]

Beyond the Ordinary: Elevate Your Accessories with Custom Name Anklets

Custom name anklets are more than jewelry; they are an extension of your identity. engraved jewelry with your name, initials, or a meaningful word, they become an intimate expression of who you are. Each time you wear the anklet, you carry a piece of your essence, making a subtle yet powerful statement about your individuality. Visit Now :

[dickaspointed]

𝑬𝑵- 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑶 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑵𝑬𝑾 𝑱𝑬𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑳𝒀 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑰𝑹 𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑺 𝑶𝑵 𝑰𝑻

hyung line

𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 , 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥

𝘺'𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 , 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴

HEESEUNG always loved playing with your legs, they were hairless, soft and smelled really good. as his fingers were doing their daily skim up and down your plush skin, his fingers got caught around little gold letters that hugged your ankle tightly. his eyes dropped from his phone, using his index to pick up the small piece of jewelry to inspect it properly. obviously caught off guard from your leg being yanked so suddenly, you laughed nervously, lowering your own phone to watch his antics.

“what is this?” Heeseung asked, rotating it around your ankle.

“i got a custom anklet with your name, cute right? it was on sale—”

you barely made it off the couch alive, your legs were thrown over Heeseung’s shoulders for hours. every gold letter of his name spinning around your ankle as he fucked you senseless into the soft cushions.

̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙

JAY often rested his cheek on your full chest. whether you had a bra on or off, that was his favorite place to rest. your fingers would course through his dark hair, gently tugging at the ends as your free hand thumbed through your murder mystery book.

sometimes his boba brown eyes would look up through the valley of your breasts to ask a really stupid question just to hear himself talk, but this time something silver sparkled in his eyes. his fingers wrapped around the little silver letters, holding it up better for him to see. caught off guard, you lowered yourself to him, a frown crossing your lips.

“hey! this was not cheap,” you started, moving to lean away but he stopped you. “jayyyy, c’mon it’s getting to the good part—.”

Jay watched his silver letters bounce between your bare breasts, mesmerized by the contrast of dewy skin and hickies that surrounded the crystallized letters. you clung to him for dear life as you rode him, bouncing along to meet and match every thrust he was offering.

̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙

JAKE loved your hands the most, even though he was constantly groping your ass or tits. he simply couldn’t deny that he loved the softness of your hands on his. after a long day of stress induced manual labor, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed besides you and have your sweet, soft hands caressing his bare back.

sticking true to his plan he showered and threw on a random pair of underwear, throwing himself into bed. his body nestled between your parted legs, sinking into your delicate smell. “i’ve missed youuuu~” he cooed, bracing his back for your soft touches that felt like little butterfly kisses.

he felt a strangely cold material scratch the surface of his skin making him stir a bit before turning to grab your wrist. dangling from your wrist was his name in golden letters, little gems decorating the top.

“you like? i got it today! the nice little ole’ lady helped me pick it out—“

Jake pressed your wrists into the mattress, kissing the cold, gold, metal into your skin as he repeatedly as he pistons in and out of you. both of you barely able to choke back pleasurable sounds that would only come from a porno scene.

̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙

SUNGHOON lazed into your shared bedroom after a much needed shower, a white towel hung low on his slender hips, showing off his monumental happy trail. you were stretched out across the mattress, scrolling through whatever new videos were trending.

once your boyfriend was dressed in boxers, he happily joined you in bed, reaching over to pull you into his muscled up arms. you rested with your cheek against his pec, holding your phone steady with one hand while the other caressed at his bare skin.

“what’s this?” he asked, guiding your free hand up to show off the ring that was wrapped around your ring finger. his initials in silver letters hugged your finger, the band was encrusted in cubic zirconia.

“i got it in the mail today! isn’t it purrrty—“

Sunghoon kissed your open hand numerous times whilst fucking your body down into the mattress before he intertwined your fingers with his. every now and then he’d turn your hand over to admire his little letters hugging your finger, letting it fuel him even more to fuck you the way you deserved to be fucked.

K BYEEEE !

[23victoria]

𝔡𝔞𝔡𝔡𝔶'𝔰 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢!

*☾⋆･ﾟ pairings:𝔰𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯!𝔡𝔞𝔡𝔡𝔶 𝔧𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔟𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔫 𝔵 𝔣𝔢𝔪!𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

word count: 3𝓀

*☾⋆･ﾟ synopsis: jenson loves fucking his sweatpea 𝒸𝓌! pet names, praise kink, rough, fingering, degradation, body worship, overstimulation, size kink, dacryphilia, somnophilia, creampie, face sitting, cockwarming, daddy kink

authors note: porn without a plot basically, it’s been a week since I updated and I didn’t even notice, Kinktober will be finished by the end of this week so i can start spooktober! i’m so excited, send in ideas and characters you think the f1 drivers would be!! i hope you enjoy! likes, asks, and reblogs are appreciated!!

𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔟𝔢 𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱?! CLICK HERE!

*☾⋆･ﾟ f1 MASTERLIST KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

“Ohh, fuck!” Jenson groans, his hands gripping your waist with a possessiveness that sends a thrill down your spine, and his thrusts are hard and deep, filling you in a way that makes you gasp with every movement. He’s relentless, the sound of his waist hitting your ass filling the room, the tension thick and palpable. Each snap of his hips sends shockwaves through your body, the pleasure intense, overwhelming.

Jenson's gaze is locked onto yours, darkened with desire as he takes in every inch of your expression—your parted lips, your flushed cheeks, the way your body arches in response to his dick hitting your cervix. His grip tightens, pulling you impossibly closer as he picks up the pace, the force of his thrusts making the headboard shake behind you.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, voice hoarse and filled with need. “You’re so fucking perfect. Look at you. Taking me so well. My little sweetpea, aren’t you?”

His words make your head spin, each syllable dripping with praise and possession, only adding to the fire coursing through your veins. He shifts his angle, driving deeper, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl, and you cry out, unable to hold back. Jenson smirks at your reaction, pride flickering in his eyes as he watches you unravel beneath him.

“You love this, don’t you? Love it when I fuck you like this,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as he leans down, lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. “You’re mine. All mine.”

You can barely nod, the pleasure too intense, too consuming for coherent thoughts. All you can do is moan his name, your nails digging into his back as your body trembles with every thrust. His lips trail down your neck, over your collarbone, until his mouth finds your breasts, his tongue flicking over your hardened nipples in a way that has you gasping for air. He pulls one into his mouth, sucking gently before his teeth graze the sensitive skin, making you shudder beneath him.

“You still want that waist chain, don’t you?” he breathes, his voice thick with lust as his hand moves to grip your hips, holding you firmly as he continues to thurst in and out of you. “Something custom, just for you. I’ll spoil you, baby. Anything you want.”

His words send a shiver through you, the thought of him adorning your body with something so delicate, so personal, making your heart race. Jenson’s always loved spoiling you, treating you like you’re the most precious thing in the world, and tonight is no different.

In one smooth motion, he hooks your legs over his shoulders, sinking even deeper into you. The new angle pulls a gasp from your lips as he presses a kiss to your ankle, his eyes dark with lust.“And how about another anklet?” Jenson whispers, his voice thick with desire as his lips trail down your leg. "Something delicate, to match these pretty feet of yours," he murmurs, his lips lingering on your skin as he fucks into you harder, making your whole body tremble. “Something to match this perfect body of yours.” He reaches your ankle, pressing a soft kiss there before looking up at you with a grin. “God, I love spoiling you.”

His words are intoxicating, but it’s the way he looks at you that makes your heart pound—the way his eyes are filled with adoration, hunger, and something so much deeper. It makes you feel cherished, adored, as if you’re the only thing that matters in the world to him.

The rhythm of Jenson’s hips is relentless, every thrust deeper and harder than the last, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Your back arches, your fingers gripping the sheets as your body moves with his, every nerve on fire. His hands grip your waist firmly, pulling you closer to him as he pounds into you, the room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the breathless gasps escaping your lips.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” Jenson groans, his voice ragged with pleasure. His pace doesn’t slow, his body moving with precision and force, his desire for you consuming every movement. You can feel the heat building between you both, the tension winding tighter with every thrust until it feels like you’re going to break.

Then, with one last, deep thrust, Jenson buries himself inside you, groaning low in his throat as he cums. The warmth floods through you, and the sensation of him filling you sends a final wave of pleasure crashing over your body. You shudder, completely spent, collapsing against the bed as your body trembles in the aftermath.

Jenson doesn’t move immediately, staying buried deep within you, savoring the moment. His hands roam over your body, possessive and tender at the same time. When he finally pulls back slightly, his gaze drops down between your legs, and a satisfied grin spreads across his face.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, his voice soft, filled with pride. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby. Full of me like that.”

His thumb brushes over the wetness between your legs, his eyes filled with awe as if he’s savoring the moment, the sight of you so completely claimed by him. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your belly, then your thigh, his lips lingering as if he can’t get enough.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice low and possessive as he nuzzles into your skin. “Every inch of you. And I’ll never get tired of this. Never get tired of you.”

You can barely respond, your body still trembling from the aftermath, your mind a haze of pleasure and satisfaction. All you can do is cling to him, your hands gripping his shoulders as he pulls you closer, holding you tight against him.

“Let me take care of you, baby,” Jenson murmurs, his voice soft now, almost tender as he kisses the side of your neck.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jenson’s breathing is heavy, still ragged from the intensity of the moment, but his eyes are far from done. You can see it in the way he looks at you—still hungry, still obsessed. His hands never leave your body, and his lips keep brushing over your skin, as if he can’t get enough.

“Come here, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with desire. “I’m not finished with you yet. I need more… I want to taste that sweet peach of yours.”

You’re still trembling, body aching with overstimulation, but the way Jenson’s hands trail down your waist, fingers digging gently into your hips, makes you shiver with anticipation. His eyes are dark, filled with a dangerous kind of devotion that makes your pulse quicken.

Before you can even fully process what he’s asking, he’s guiding you, pulling you toward him as he shifts down on the bed. “Sit on my face, baby,” he commands softly, but there’s an intensity behind his words that sends a thrill down your spine. “Let me taste that’s sweet pussy of yours.”

You hesitate for only a moment, your body still reeling from the last wave of pleasure, but Jenson’s hands are already gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. His strength is undeniable, and he moves you with ease until you’re hovering above him, his face inches from your most sensitive spot.

The anticipation is maddening, and before you can even catch your breath, he pulls you down, burying his face between your thighs. His tongue is relentless, his lips pressing hot kisses against you as he devours you with an intensity that steals your breath.

“God, you taste so good,” he groans, the vibration of his voice against you making your legs quiver. He’s holding you up, strong hands gripping your thighs as he pulls you even closer, his mouth working you over with a fervor that has your head spinning. You lean back against the headboard, trying to brace yourself, but it’s no use. The pleasure is overwhelming, each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, sending shockwaves through your already overstimulated body.

“Jenson,” you gasp, your hands gripping the headboard for support as your legs shake uncontrollably. But he doesn’t let up. His grip tightens on your thighs, holding you in place as his tongue delves deeper, his hunger for you insatiable.

“Yes, baby,” he groans, voice muffled but clear in its desire. “Let me taste you. Let me take care of you.”

You can barely think, let alone speak. Your body is shaking, pleasure coursing through you in waves as he continues to eat you out with a devotion that has you on the edge of losing control. Your thighs quiver in his hands, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps, but Jenson holds you steady, refusing to let go.

He looks up at you from between your legs, eyes dark and wild with obsession. “I love seeing you like this,” he murmurs, pausing only long enough to speak before diving back in. “Falling apart just for me. That’s my good girl.”

His words push you even closer to the edge, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as the overstimulation takes hold. It’s too much, too good, and you don’t know how much longer you can hold on. But Jenson doesn’t stop. If anything, he becomes more intense, his mouth working you over with an urgency that leaves you breathless, his hands gripping your thighs like he’s never letting you go.

Your body trembles, legs shaking as you lean harder against the headboard, your vision blurring with the sheer force of the pleasure coursing through you. “I can feel how close you are,” he growls, his voice sending vibrations through your core. “Let go for me, baby. Give it to me.”

You can’t hold back any longer. With a final, desperate moan, you fall apart completely, your entire body shaking as the pleasure overtakes you. Jenson doesn’t stop, his mouth still working you through it as you cry out, your hands clutching the headboard for dear life.

He finally slows, his kisses becoming softer, more tender as you come down from the high. But even then, he doesn’t let go, his hands still gripping your thighs as he presses one final kiss to your sensitive core.

“There’s my sweet girl,” he whispers, pulling you down into his arms as you collapse against him, legs still trembling. “You taste like heaven.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your body feels completely spent, every muscle heavy and relaxed as you lie there, limbs tangled with the sheets, barely able to move. Jenson’s arms are wrapped around you, his warm breath ghosting over your neck as he nuzzles closer, pressing lazy kisses against your shoulder.

He hasn’t let go of you, and you can feel his fingers trailing over your skin, gentle and possessive. The weight of his touch is comforting, a reminder that he’s still here, still very much wanting you.

“Aww, is my sweetpea tired?” Jenson’s voice is teasing, soft in your ear, but it carries a note of affection that sends warmth flooding through your already exhausted body. “My baby’s all worn out, huh?”

Your lips curve into a weak smile, but your body refuses to cooperate further. You feel utterly spent, every nerve ending tingling from the pleasure he’s already pulled from you. But despite the fatigue, a shiver of anticipation runs down your spine when his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles on your skin.

He shifts slightly, moving behind you, and the heat of his body presses against yours. You can feel the weight of him, solid and grounding, his presence taking up every inch of space around you. Jenson’s hand slides down to your hip, fingers gripping you gently as his lips brush against your neck, trailing kisses along your skin. Each touch is deliberate, filled with intent, as if he’s savoring the moment, taking his time with you.

“You want me to fuck you to sleep, baby?” he murmurs against your ear, his voice low and teasing, sending a wave of heat through your exhausted body. There’s a smirk in his tone, and you can feel his lips twitch against your skin. Even though you’re tired, the promise in his words makes your breath hitch, and a soft whimper escapes your lips.

“Y-yes,” you manage to whisper, though your voice is barely audible. You’re so tired, so overwhelmed, but the need is still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

Jenson chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and against your back, and he kisses your shoulder, his lips warm and soft. “Of course you do,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a kind of dark affection that makes your heart skip a beat. “Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s going to take care of you.”

You barely have time to process his words before his hand slides between your thighs, fingers moving slowly, teasingly. His touch is gentle but firm, and the sensation makes you gasp, even though you’re so sensitive it borders on overwhelming. You squirm slightly, but Jenson’s other hand presses against your hip, keeping you still.

“Shh, just relax,” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck. His fingers move in slow, tantalizing circles, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated body. “Let daddy take care of you, baby.”

You can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers work you over, the pleasure building again despite your exhaustion. His lips never leave your skin, kissing along the curve of your neck, his stubble grazing you in a way that has you shivering. His free hand moves to cup your breast, fingers rubbing your tit as he teases you mercilessly, driving you to the edge of pleasure once more.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs against your ear, his voice filled with satisfaction. “I love how you react to me. My perfect girl.”

You want to respond, but the words get caught in your throat as his fingers slide deeper, hitting that spot that makes your entire body tremble. His touch is slow, deliberate, and the tension in your body begins to coil once again, despite the exhaustion weighing you down.

Jenson’s lips move up to your ear, his breath hot and teasing. “Just a little more, baby,” he whispers, his voice dripping with control. “You can take it.”

Before you can even brace yourself, he thrusts into you hard, the sudden stretch and intense pressure makes you gasp. You can feel his hand gripping your hip, holding you steady as he fucks you, his thrusts deep and demanding. The sensation is overwhelming, your body still so sensitive from before, but you can’t stop the way your muscles clench around him, the pleasure building too quickly.

You feel yourself coming undone before you even realize it, the wave of pleasure crashing over you so suddenly that it steals your breath. You come, hard, and the intensity of it leaves you shaking, your body trembling against him as you moan weakly.

Jenson’s hand tightens on your hip, and he lets out a low, irritated groan. “You came without me, baby,” he mutters, his voice edged with frustration. But then he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his tone softening as he nuzzles against your neck. “I know, I know… you’re just overstimulated and tired. It’s okay.”

His words are tender, understanding, and it makes your chest tighten with warmth. Despite his irritation, he never stops moving, thrusting into you with a steady, deliberate pace that has you quivering beneath him. His breath is ragged, and you can tell he’s close, his movements becoming more urgent.

“I’m almost there, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with need. “Help me out a little, yeah? Just give me a little more.”

Your body feels like it’s on the verge of collapse, but you nod weakly, biting your lip as you push back against him, trying to meet his thrusts. The movement is small, your body too exhausted to do much more, but Jenson’s groan of approval lets you know it’s enough.

“That’s it, good girl,” he groans, his grip on your hip tightening as he thrusts harder, deeper. “You feel so good, baby.”

You can feel the tension in his body, the way his breath comes in short gasps, and you know he’s right on the edge. The pleasure builds between you both, a shared intensity that makes your head spin, and before you know it, you’re both tumbling over the edge together.

Jenson’s hand tightens on your hip as he comes, his body trembling against yours as he groans your name. “Ohh fu-ck..Y/N. Ugh..yes.” The sound of his pleasure, the way his body moves with yours, sends a final wave of satisfaction through you, and you collapse against the sheets, utterly spent.

“That’s my baby,” he breathes, his voice soft and full of affection as he kisses your shoulder, his hands still gently running over your skin. “You’re perfect.”

You feel his weight shift behind you, and just as he’s about to pull away, you weakly reach back, your fingers brushing against his arm. “No… stay,” you whisper, your voice so quiet it’s almost inaudible, but Jenson hears it.

He pauses, his body still pressed against yours, and then he lets out a soft chuckle. “Aww, you still want daddy in you, huh?” His tone is teasing, but there’s a tenderness behind it that makes your heart flutter.

You nod weakly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure, and Jenson presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck. “Okay, baby,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth. “Daddy’s not going anywhere.”

He pulls you close again, his body curling around yours as he wraps you in his arms. His lips find your neck, kissing you gently as his hands stroke your skin, soothing and tender.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he whispers, his voice soft and comforting. You feel your body relaxing even more, the exhaustion finally taking over. But before sleep can fully claim you, Jenson turns your head gently, his lips brushing against yours.

He kisses you deeply, a slow, wet, and messy kiss that leaves you breathless. His tongue teases yours, the affection in his kiss making your heart swell. When he finally pulls back, he presses one last kiss to your lips, his voice a soft whisper in the quiet room.

“Sleep well, my love.”

*☾⋆･ﾟ taglist: @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality @eternoange1 @pear-1206 @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld @szalovebot

copy right: © 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[gurugirl]

Dress up

sugardaddy!harry x yn | An extra for The Arrangement

Summary: Y/n dresses up in diamonds and jewels and thinks she looks sexy so she secretly makes a solo video of herself. But then she goes out on a limb and sends the video to Harry while he's working.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've given you an update for these two! This was requested! Here

Word Count: 4,548

Warning: 18+ only, smut, use of toys, spanking, sharing of a solo sex tape

The Arrangement Masterlist

. .

Y/n remembers a time when she’d wear clothes that were slightly unkempt. Clean but perhaps maybe a little wrinkled. Shirt hems and collars would be folded funny, buttons misaligned, sweaters and dresses not fitted properly…

Back then she relied on the drier to de-wrinkle her clothes. Nowadays a professional service delivered her freshly cleaned and pressed items to her door. All of which were tailored to fit her perfectly.

So it wasn’t unusual for Y/n to play dress up with herself when Harry was away at the office and she was at home alone. She enjoyed having such nice clothes and things filling her closet. It’s something she never had before.

She’d layer on a silk Chanel dress with her Ferragamo belt, a Hermes scarf, and the expensive custom disk hat with silk roses Harry bought her when they went to the Kentucky Derby. She’d watch herself in the long floor-length mirror and practice walking like a woman who owned the kind of clothes she was wearing.

But sometimes she focused on the jewelry. The pretty shiny rocks and jewels, delicately woven precious metal bands and chains… Harry had bought her more jewelry than she’d ever seen in her life. Diamonds, gold, platinum, rubies, emeralds, pearls, silver… Rings, watches, brooches, necklaces, anklets, earrings, belts, and bracelets. You name it.

And on this particular evening, Harry was at a dinner meeting that was going to run late. She’d bathed and put on her perfumed moisturizing balm and then walked naked into her massive walk-in closet where she opened up her lingerie drawer and spotted the elbow-length velvet opera gloves. She’d only ever worn them once but she remembers the way they felt on her arms and how luxurious it made her feel.

Watching herself in her mirror she slid each glove up her arms and posed, raising her arms over her head to lift her tits and make her tummy appear more svelte.

She grinned as she turned and then she had a sudden idea. Opening up her jewelry armoire she was presented with shiny, sparkly bobbles and jewels.

“Siri… shuffle music by Sara Vaughan to the master bedroom speakers.”

When the jazzy slow music began to play she traced her gloved fingers over the diamond necklace she often wished she could wear every day. It was littered in diamonds, the drop cutting down to just above her cleavage. Lifting it up she placed it gently over her head and laid it over her bust. It was spectacular. Heavy and twinkly and chilled on her skin. She smoothed her hands down her body and stared at her figure in the mirror wearing nothing but gloves and the ridiculously expensive necklace Harry had bought her.

Which then gave her the idea to add on the pretty rainbow jewel body belt. The thin chain was loaded with various colored diamonds, emeralds, rubies, topaz… The end of the chain draped down her back, laying just over her bum with a pretty pearl at the end. Then she put on the drop diamond earrings that matched the necklace. The bottom diamond was so big it nearly reached her shoulder when she shrugged.

She layered pearls and opals and her diamond bracelets over her gloved wrists and then slid on her black high heels, doing a dramatic twirl and bending to see her backside with a giggle.

She swayed her hips to the sexy music crooning through the speakers and then grinned at herself in the mirror, “Look how pretty… Daddy would love this.”

Feeling her naked skin under her gloves was a dream. The way the velvet ran smoothly over her flesh felt sexy and the more jewelry she layered on the prettier she felt. All sparkly and fancy with soft skin and perked nipples.

Sitting her video camera on its stand next to the mirror she hit record and began dancing slowly with herself, all decked out in diamonds. Running her hands over her curves and up to her tits she bit her lip and looked at the camera, “There isn’t anyone that wouldn’t want to have this…” She spun around and laughed to herself before bending at the waist and spreading her thighs just enough that the camera could catch the view of her pussy from behind.

Peeking over her shoulder she stared into the lens and drew a hand down her back and over her bottom before swatting a cheek and moaning softly, “Not so bad with the glove,” she spoke aloud as she lowered her fingers until she could feel the velvet sliding over her pussy, back and forth.

Humming she looked at herself in the mirror and then pressed her finger over her other tight hole, “Needs a little sparkle, doesn’t it?”

She stood up and pulled open her toy drawer to select the plug of the night. It was an easy choice. The anal plug with diamonds. Real diamonds. Another thing she didn’t often wear because it was the least practical of her plugs. But it was pretty.

Stepping back up to the camera she held the plug up and drizzled lube over the tip then repeated the words of the song Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets…

Bending at the waist, ass aimed toward the camera she took her left hand and pulled at her cheek as she began to push the plug into her hole with her right hand. Y/n had become quite the expert at putting in her own plugs. She was used to it now. Even though Harry always told her to not do it when he wasn’t present, she often did it anyway. They had fun with it every time he found out she disobeyed him (but she knew he secretly loved it).

“Oh!” She squeaked when the cool metal fit into place and stretched her out. “Feels so good…” she swayed her hips as she spread her ass cheeks for the camera and hummed to the music.

Turning around to face the camera she tutted at herself, “Beautiful… So sparkly. Think I deserve a treat,” she grinned at her reflection and brushed her hand down her torso to her hips, and raised the other arm over her head as she toyed with her clit and gasped.

Of course, she was putting on a little show. Something to watch later on in private. She’d gotten in the habit of making little videos of herself dancing naked or masturbating. Or just talking about nothing really. She’d started to feel so confident and happy with herself thanks to Harry. And the videos were her naughty little secret. Sometimes, with the extra sexy ones, she’d even touch herself as she rewatched them later on, loving the way she looked.

This time was no different. She was stunning with sparkly jewels and velvet gloves. Long stretched of bare skin, breasts bouncing as she swayed and twirled.

Reaching for her breasts she squished them together with a moan and then jiggled them at the camera before swiping her thumb over each nipple, “Get those nice and hard. We know how much I like hard things don’t we?” She laughed to herself.

Reaching into her toy drawer she found her tiny pink vibrator and turned it on, “Gonna feel so good,” she ran the small toy down the center of her body, between her breasts, over her belly button, and then circled it over her pussy with a sharp inhale.

Moving to the music she kept her eyes on the camera and continued pressing the toy against her clit, “Oh… I’m getting so wet.”

Her breathing picked up and her nipples tightened more, goosebumps covered her skin as she felt the yummy sensation of arousal fill her veins.

“Mmm… I do it so well. Always get myself off. Don’t need Daddy every time, do we?” She chuckled and then gasped when she pressed the toy harder against her bud.

“So wet already. Such a dirty, horny girl…” she bit her lip and turned off the pink toy before placing it on the counter and running her velvet-covered fingers up and down her swollen, wet pussy, “So messy… mmm… Gonna get in so much trouble doing this. I think Daddy’s gonna have to spank me.”

The more she stroked her pearl the wetter her gloves got. She clenched her empty hole and moaned, “Need more. Like all my holes stuffed,” she spoke breathily as she peeked into her drawer and pulled out her clear silicone dildo. The extra long one that was ridged thickly and made her come so fast. She needed to get on with the show. Harry would be coming back soon.

Pulling her soft chair in front of the mirror and the camera she gently sat and cooed at the feel of the plug shifting under her bum, “Oop! Fuck that’s feeling really good.”

Y/n lifted her legs, planting her heeled feet on the seat cushion and spreading her thighs so there was an excellent view of her plug and her pussy.

“I’ve gotten myself all wet,” she drew a finger over her inner thigh and licked at the velvet-gloved finger, “Mm! I know why Daddy says it tastes so good. So yummy,” she sighed as she spread her legs wider and placed the dildo against her pussy lips, running it through her slippery folds before finally pushing it in slowly.

She parted her lips and stared into the camera as she began to work the silicone toy in and out until she could push it in deep and it pressed into the shared wall where her anal plug was. The toy tucked in her ass bobbed every time she thrust the dildo in deep and she moaned at the sight, “Oh my god… that’s so hot isn’t it? Look at how both holes take everything I give them so well.”

Fucking herself with the dildo and rubbing her clit with her gloves she stretched her neck back and whined loudly.

The slick sound of her cunt around the silicone toy filled the spaces between the notes and the music playing, just loud enough for the camera to pick up the sound. Going in faster she lulled her head forward to keep her eyes on the camera but she was in a bit of a daze. She always tried to keep her eyes open for the camera when she came because that was her favorite.

“Good girl, baby… Taking your toys so good. Fucking look like a goddess right now. Oh shit… that’s it… doing it so good…”

Her chest was rising and falling and she heard the chime of an incoming text, which she was sure was Harry, “Daddy’s trying to reach me,” she laughed playfully, “But his little girl is busy fucking herself, isn’t that right?”

It wasn’t long before she was shaking and her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her velvet gloves were ruined with her arousal as she fingered her swollen clit and clamped down on the dildo and the plug with a soft cry, “Oh god! Right there… Fuck…”

Her orgasm had wiped her out. She tried keeping her eyes on the camera but her whole head was swirling with pleasure and lust as she trembled and moaned, creaming all over her dildo.

She heaved and pulled the toy out, dropping it to the floor, and leaned back into the cushion to recover for a moment, “So good. You always do it right. Even better than Daddy sometimes,” she snorted a laugh and sat up to look at the camera teasingly before wobbly legs took her across the space to turn off the recording on her camera.

.             .             .

Y/n had watched her newest home video at least four times. And she was so turned on every time she watched it, she’d make herself come in record time, rubbing her clit and feeling so proud of how pretty she looked and how brave she’d become since she’d been with Harry.

And the recent video with all the jewels was her best work yet. She really loved it. So much so that she was thinking about sharing it with Harry. She wondered what he’d think about it. She was positive he’d just go nuts over it like she did. He’d act all upset and stoic. Probably give her a good spanking (at least) but she knew he’d adore it.

So, in a moment of sheer insanity or bravery (she wasn’t sure which) she tucked her top row of teeth into her bottom lip, attached the video to a text message for Harry, and squealed when she hit send. She couldn’t believe she’d sent it. All of her solo videos had been her little secret all this time but now she was bringing Harry into the mix by showing him.

It was 2 pm on a Wednesday. He was at the office and probably just getting out of his most recent meeting. And she knew he’d see it shortly after she sent it.

She kept her eye on the screen of her phone, waiting for the message to say ‘read’. It only took a few minutes. She giggled to herself as she snuggled into the couch with her laptop and watched the video, trying to time it so that she was watching it at the same time he was. Wondering what he was thinking with every minute that drew on.

Her heart was racing in anticipation of his response. She knew she’d be in for a bit of punishment but she didn’t know exactly what to expect from it.

But then minute after minute drew on. The video had ended and there was no word from Harry. No bobbing dots to indicate he was texting. No phone call. Nada.

She felt heat creep over her skin as she thought about all the ways Harry would teach her a lesson. Y/n knew Harry was making a plan. Surely he was devising some kind of punishment for her misbehavior. She couldn’t wait.

Less than an hour later Harry was walking through the front door. Y/n peeked over the back of the couch toward the foyer entry and she saw him pass through but he didn’t look in her direction. He breezed by cooly and went into the kitchen.

Y/n scrambled off the couch to follow after him. He was pouring a glass of water for himself silently when she rounded the island and put her hands on his shoulders, “Hi, Daddy.”

He grunted and moved away, making her hands fall from his back as he put the water pitcher back into the fridge before taking a long gulp of his water.

Waiting silently for him to award her a glance she watched her man place the empty glass into the sink as he sighed, placing his palms flat onto the marble countertop, “So you think you can take care of yourself better than I can? Is that right?”

She knew that line would stick out to him.

“I was just teasing. You know no one does it better than you, Da–“

“And you disobeyed me. Looked like you were having the time of your life, Y/n. Did you enjoy wearing all the expensive jewelry I bought you? Enjoyed getting yourself off while I was working hard to keep a roof over your head?” He turned and looked at her. Stern and serious.

Now she knew he was being dramatic. The whole keep-a-roof-over-your-head comment was a bit silly. Harry could retire right then if he wanted to.

“I did enjoy it, actually,” she quipped back before biting her lip.

“Well now at least you’re being honest with me. When did you make the video? Was this today?”

Shaking her head she leaned into the counter, “A week ago.”

He nodded slowly, his green eyes trailing down over her body. She was only wearing one of his t-shirts.

“And what were you up to today that compelled you to send me this one-week-old video?”

 She gulped, “Nothing really. Um… I just wanted to share it with you because I liked it. Thought you’d like it to.” She said blinking her eyes innocently at him.

Harry sniffed, “It was very pretty to look at. But you went against my explicit rules. Does Daddy not give you enough orgasms every day? Every morning and every night I work to keep you satisfied. Are you so desperate for an orgasm that you can’t wait a few hours until I get home?”

She breathed shallowly and looked down, “I just sometimes like to do it myself. And I felt so pretty.”

Y/n felt Harry’s touch on her arm, “Come.”

She followed him upstairs to her closet where he opened up her drawers until he found her toys and then her gloves and opened up the jewelry armoire.

“Put everything on that you had in the video. Meet me in the bedroom when you’re ready.”

Y/n felt her nerves bubble as she put everything on. The jewels, the gloves, the plug, and her heels. She sighed as she gave herself a once over in the mirror before stepping out into the bedroom where Harry was seated at the end of the bed facing the TV. Her video on the large screen paused at the beginning. He had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, ready to get to work.

“C’mere,” he patted his lap. He kept his eyes focused on her body as she neared him and placed her hand on his shoulder to sit down but he pulled her over his thighs, tummy down, and ass up where he gave her a very swift smack and then massaged at the meat of her bum, pulling her plushy cheeks apart and tapped her plug, “Good. Looks like we’re all set.”

Her head was hanging down and the weight of the necklace was especially heavy in her new position, the earrings pulling at her lobes as she rocked over him to stabilize herself. She imagined she was going to need to hang on to something.

“Watch with me. Lift your head. Let’s see this dirty little video my spoiled girl made.”

She scoured the screen with her eyes, her body in view and the jewels glinting off the light from above her. Y/n had to strain to keep her head up. She leveraged herself up with her hand on the bed next to Harry’s thigh.

She had seen the video enough times that she had the whole thing nearly memorized. The music, the moment she bends and shows the camera her plug, the lines she spoke…

Harry spanked her ass, two stinging open palmed swats to each side and she winced at the pain and gasped as she slid down, losing her balance when she kicked a leg up.

“Stay still for me and keep watching,” he spoke gruffly as he grasped the front of her neck and tilted her head back up so she could watch with him.

Gulping into his palm she arched her back when he spanked her bottom again, “Look at how pretty you are in my lap, baby,” he ran his hand down her spine to the little jeweled belt where the pearl hung at the top of her crack, “All these expensive things on your body, ass up for me,” he twisted the plug, “Pussy wet.”

She moaned when he ran his fingers between her crease and pressed his middle finger inside of her cunt before pulling it out and wiping it on the back of her thigh, where he then gave her another smack.

“Who bought all this for you, baby? Hmm? Who made this whole thing possible?”

“You, Daddy!” She didn’t hesitate to answer him.

“That’s right. This video wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for me. This pussy wouldn’t be wet if it weren’t for me.”

She nodded against his palm and moaned when his fingers circled her clit.

“Always my desperate, needy little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasped when he pinched her bud and she wiggled her hips but he gripped her neck tighter, “Don’t wiggle. You got yourself into this mess. These are the consequences.”

She squeezed her eyes closed as he swatted her again before he continued speaking, leaning down to groan into her ear, “Do you know how hard I got the moment I opened up that video at work? Walking down the hall to my office I had to hide my boner and click the volume off.”

She felt him pinch at her inner thigh, giving her clit a moment of respite from his fingers, “Had to calm myself down and lock the door. But then I finished watching your little video and I had to excuse myself to leave work early. Do you know how disruptive that was?”

She grunted as he pressed over her plug, “Right now, I’m supposed to be in a meeting with a potential investor. This was a big deal, Y/n. But I physically wasn’t able to stay at the office for a moment longer, and it’s your fault. Every time I thought about the way you came with your legs spread and this little plug flicking around from the dildo you were fucking yourself with… had to calm my cock. Was gonna burst in my pants.”

His fingers slid back into her cunt, two this time as he pumped into her walls and continued gripping her neck, “Look.”

She shifted her eyes to the screen and her voice filtered through the room, her gasps and moans as she began to come. And just as he described, her little plug was twitching in time with the way she was pressing the dildo into her cunt. It was a pretty sight.

She moaned when he kissed the back of her ear, “Fucking gorgeous when you come, baby. But this video? S’like a work of art. But you were still naughty. Didn’t get permission to do any of that did you?”

“No, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

His fingers were filling her up and squelching with every thrust, “You look so proud of yourself too. So confident. Like a big girl playing dress up with Daddy’s things. And if my cock weren’t throbbing right now I’d really teach you a lesson but I need to come inside of this little pussy. Been aching for it.”

She felt his legs shift and her body was moved, heels on the floor as he steadied her hips before he stood up and began to undo his pants, “Bend over the bed, spread your legs.”

She wanted to watch him pull his cock out. Wanted to see how hard he was but she knew better than to hesitate. She laid herself tummy down on the mattress and spread her thighs apart.

One of his hands was on her hip, lifting her slightly when she felt his thick cock drag against her pussy and then his chest was pressed into her back, “No one does it better than, Daddy.”

The moment he finished his sentence, lips against the shell of her ear, he slammed his cock inside of her. He took both of her hands in his, the velvet gloves keeping her from feeling his palms, as he pulled her arms behind her back and took both wrists in one big hand as he continued rocking into her.

She felt a sharp smack on her ass again and he grunted, thighs flexing as he worked into her. Her shoulders burned as he kept her arms held down at the middle of her back, one hand groping her ass cheek.

The view he had was gorgeous as always. Her plug pushed and pulled with every thrust of Harry’s cock and he could feel the press of it gliding over his cock through her tight warm walls.

The necklace was digging into her chest but she welcomed the way it felt on her skin as well as the burn of another swat to her bum because her body was giving itself over to him.

“My spoiled girl just keeps getting whatever she wants. Even when she’s naughty she gets all these pretty things; gets Daddy’s cock inside of her, gets all the orgasms she can handle. Guess you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you, baby?”

“Umph!” She croaked, her cheek smushed into the comforter, letting go of her ass as he leaned over, palm on the mattress, and drove into her with the kind of force she loved. It felt so much better than anything she could do to herself with her meager dildo. Harry’s cock was exactly what she needed.

“Yeah? Didn’t hear you make that noise in your little video.” He buried himself in, bullying another lewd sound from her throat as his hips rutted against her ass.

“Can’t help those pretty little noises can you? Daddy’s cock will always feel better won’t it?”

She was jolted forward, her mouth open with drool pooling over the blankets, “No… your cock… aoohha!”

Harry grinned at her inability to answer properly as he continued pounding into her, still holding her wrists together at her mid-back.

“Squeezing the fuck out of me baby. There you go… fuck…”

Y/n’s orgasm wiped her body out. The way the plug was stretching her out and Harry’s big cock was slamming into her guts she couldn’t hold on for a second longer.

She heard Harry panting between grunts and then felt both of his hands on her ass as he pressed in deep and unloaded himself, filling her insides with his come.

“My pretty baby. Love seeing you dripping in diamonds and all fucked out of your mind. Does it make you feel good baby? Wearing all these expensive things?”

He had his chest pressed into her back as he spoke quietly into her ear, hips pasted to her ass.

“I love it. It’s so nice, Daddy.”

He moved off of her, reaching an arm under her waist to pull her up to standing, and turned her in her arms, “Look at this,” bringing her gloved hands into his, he lifted them upward, “Ruined. Need to buy you new gloves it appears.”

She realized the cleaning job she’d done on them after making the video had been shoddy at best and now the tips of the fingers were steaky and lighter than the rest of the material, “Maybe dry cleaning?”

Harry pursed his lips as he began to take off her bracelets, unhooking each clasp, “Maybe. Not sure these can be salvaged, though.”

When he pulled her gloves off he reached around her neck to undo the necklace and then her jeweled belt before running his hands up and down her arms, “Gorgeous with or without all the diamonds,” he smirked.

“I like the diamonds, though. Fun to play dress up.”

He raised a brow and brought her left hand up to his mouth pressing his plush lips over her ring finger, “Thinking about what you’d look like with a pretty diamond right here.”

Y/n parted her lips and kept her gaze locked on Harry’s, “Like a… ring?”

Harry laughed at her shocked expression and pushed his fingers between hers as he cupped her cheek with his free hand, “Yeah. Like a ring.”

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[julymusings]

jalebi baby !

or; Dick Grayson and his Indian gf hosting Diwali 🧨☄️🎆

dick grayson x indian!fem!reader, like one euphemism i originally wrote more but it was kinda off-topic so i didn't include it. but if this ends up like...resonating particularly deeply with anyone i'll make another part also never quite got an answer on that friends question... Read Jason's version here !

In the years you’ve been with Dick, he’s celebrated multiple Diwali’s with you. He’s familiar with the customs and practices by now, knows the story behind the holiday, and has space in his closet for the several traditional garments he’s collected over the course of your relationship. But this year is different; this year, you are the hosts.

The day before, you were a mess. Rife with stress and nerves over your first time hosting the family party, an unspoken rite of passage into adult life. He had to basically drag you away from your checklist so he could sit you down and pamper you, massaging coconut oil into your scalp so you could relax. You can’t lie, though, it did help. That, and him being extra generous while washing it out in the shower later. You slept like a baby that night, worries long forgotten.

When the time for the party comes, he’s looking so…

He’s wearing a kurta that perfectly matches the cerulean of his eyes and has a shimmering silver paisley pattern, and he wears it with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows to put his tan, muscled forearms on display. (*Barking*)

Like the gentleman he is, he helps you drape your sari. He presses the pleats flat, secures the pins in place, all with a graceful precision that makes the finished product better than you could ever achieve. He’s pouting the whole time, though, because no matter how much you insist that it’s magenta, it still borders too close to red for his taste.

“It’s magenta, Dick.” “That’s basically red! Why don’t you just wear one that says ‘I Hate Nightwing’ in huge letters?” “Dickie, don’t be ridiculous…you know the pleating would hide the words.”

You thought that was hilarious, but he’s EXTRA pouty after that.

He can’t be mad at you for long, though, not when you’re looking like that. The gold border of your garment, the sparkle of your gold jewelry, and the rosy color against your brown skin with a bindi to match…you’re practically glowing. And if you’re wearing paayals (bell anklets)…that dainty twinkle that follows you when you walk— hold on, he needs a minute. He thinks he’s died and gone to heaven because there’s an angel in front of him.

While you’re spending the whole party running around and looking after everything, he’s looking after you. He’s making sure you take sitting breaks, he’s bringing you water, he’s feeding you while you’re cooking, and taking over the cooking (when you let him) so you can take some time to actually enjoy the party.

For dessert you prepare his favorite (jalebi) but every time you remove one from the pot and place it in the serving dish, two seconds later it’s gone. He tries to pin it on one of your relatives, which results in said relative calling him lode (lode-eh), and you having to sequester him in another room so you can finish cooking.

While you take him on his walk of shame, he asks you what that means and you lovingly reassure him that it’s nothing bad. (It isn’t, technically…I mean it is his name, right?)

I didn't include this in Jason's version but I think while Dick likes jalebi, Jason is a gulab jamun kinda guy

divider from here

[honey-minded-hivemind]

To give a small update, I've been making jewelry the past few days with pearls and necklaces with repurposed charms/earrings. It's pretty fun, to be honest. Has anyone here ever made jewelry before? A few relatives of mine used to make jewelery and sell it/gift it to people as a side job/hobby. It might just run in the family😅 This being said:

Imagine a Reader who makes jewelry...

Necklaces, chokers, bracelets, earrings, rings, anklets, you name it, they can and will make it.

Picky about your beads? Never fear! They have TONS of them! Bags and boxes and crates full, some repurposed from old pieces, some brand new, some from thrift stores or craft sections, it's all there! You like a certain color but want a gem for it? Reader has you covered! Amethyst, crystal, pearl, amber, fluorite, tiger's eye, garnet, pyrite, obsidian, etc. ! You want something more down-to-earth? Reader can do that, too! Wooden beads in all shapes and sizes and shades, crafted glass beads in different flora and fauna or abstract forms, even charms of metal and plastic and ceramic, if that's your style!

The platonic yamderes would definitely ADORE whatever Reader themed after them! A pair of earrings with lighting bolt charms and cloud puffs after Storm, complete with a weather-inspired necklace full of little cloud puffs and sun beads and rain crystals? She'd model it for you if you wanted! You want to make an entire cottage-core themed bracelet set with frogs and toads and mushrooms? Toad would love to be your muse, so you can capture their essence! You used animal bones and rough stones based on how Wolverine and Sabretooth are? Ohhhhh honey, they'd be supplying you with any bones you want, all while seeing how it looks on them. Point is, if you have ANYTHING that is based on or themed after any of the mutants, they are so going to be taking a look and talking about it!You want to sell your jewelry? They're your hype men. You need to find customers or a crowd who enjoys your craft? Surprise, the entire superhero, supervillain, and mutant communities are informed about it, and suddenly you have a steady stream of buyers. Oh, someone wants to show them in a gallery or show? They'll be pushing people towards your masterpieces, all while talking about the artist, who they know personally (you). You can bet the mutants who have some money tucked away buy the entire collections that are based on/themed around them (and they are NOT cheap when it comes to buying every last piece centered on them).

You can bet yourself that the platonic yans would be all for you and your craft, no matter the cost or trials it brings. H*ck, they're probably funding/donating to your art at this point, making sure you're never out of jewels, beads, threads, wires, metals, or jewelry pliers. If you need an extra hand with something, you have several willing volunteers. You need a new muse? Sign them up, they'll do all sorts of stuff with you to give you that inspiration you crave. You need a break from working too hard? Sit down, have some tea or coffee or orange juice, and let them help you wind down. They love you, and they love what you do, but they won't have you stretching yourself thin just to make ends meet. If you need anything, say the word and they'll be there. You've always been a pal, a friend, a sibling, or kid to them; let them repay the favor. You're their jewel, their gem, their lucky charm, and they wouldn't ever want to let you down.

(Should I make a post about the type of jewelry/sets/collections each X-Men Evolution character would have made by Reader based on them and their theme/colors/powers?)

[pedriswife]

Valentine's Day is coming!

So can you write a story which reader and pedri is going on a picnic for valentine's day and later pedri gets hard so they go to home and have sex?

I woke up every morning happy bc of your stories! you make my day better! Love you 💋

Warning! Smut ahead (omg bestie it makes me happy to hear that, I LOVE YOU TOO LOVELY💗)

☆

Pedri really thought the day through; he arranged a picnic for the pair of you in one of Barcelona's many parks, him spending the early morning of the day preparing food before getting you in the car and setting off to spend valentines together by mid afternoon. He gifted you a massive bouquet of flowers and a jewellery set, his initial visible on the necklace and anklet that he got custom-made.

You munched on one of the chocolate covered bread sticks, Pedri's eyes on you, admiring your beauty in the light.

"Did you like today bonita?" he asked, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip to wipe some crumbs off, watching you intently as you nodded, a smile over your face.

"It was the best. I love you, Pedri, " you said, the admiration clear in your voice as he mirrored your words, taking your face into his hands and kissing you deeply, the kiss conveying his message of love.

You pulled away, your eyes dazed from the kiss as he smiled, starting to pack up the things from the picnic blanket. You watched him from behind as his back muscles flexed as he put stuff away before starting to pack as well.

Once finished, you got in the car, and Pedri drove the two of you home, some music playing in the background but mostly enjoying each others presence in silence.

"I have some gifts for you at home bonita. But first, I was hoping that maybe you'll help me out with something?" He spoke up, your eyes meeting his lust filled stare before looking down, his hard on evident in his trousers.

Your breath hitched as you brought your thighs closer together, not expecting to see what you saw. This didn't go unnoticed by Pedri; he smirked to himself, knowing that he could make you feel butterflies just by a simple thing.

Once you got home, Pedri picked you up and led you to the bedroom, his lips on your neck gently sucking on the plush skin, different from his usual harsh style. His hands kneaded your ass, a gasp escaping your mouth as he gladly swallowed your sounds up before placing you on the king-size bed.

You moved to get your dress off, but his hands stopped you straight away.

"What's the rush bonita, I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to take my time with you, make love to you, " he whispered into your ear, his teeth grazing over your jawline before sucking on your sweet spot, soft moans leaving your mouth as his hands started to stroke your covered breasts, squeezing them gently.

He moved his hands down all the way to your thighs, gently stroking them before moving up, his fingers fanning over your already soaking core. He teased your still clothed pussy, smirking at how wet your panties were just from mere touches before he pushed the material aside, plunging two fingers deep inside of you. Your back arched as you moaned his name, his lips on yours, making it hard for you to kiss back as he thrust them inside of you, curling them up to hit your g spot. His thumb gently swiped over your clit, as he breathed in your gasps and moans of pleasure.

"Pedri I - I want you," you gasped out, his touch sending you into an overdrive as he continued to push in his fingers, now completely slicked with your juices. He continued, ignoring your request, whilst you felt close to cumming your moans now higher pitched, bouncing off the walls of the room.

He pulled away before you could make a mess on his fingers, him quickly removing your drenched panties, your dress and bra soon following, thrown carelessly on the floor. He took off his clothes as well before he joined you back on the bed, attaching his mouth to your sensitive nipples, sucking on them, shots of pleasure going through your body once again.

"I'm gonna make feel so good bonita," he said against your skin, aligning his cock with your entrance, gasp leaving your mouth as he pushed into you, his hands on your hips, pushing your body down to meet his thrusts. He gently thrusted into your core, his cock continously hitting against your g spot. You wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him to go deeper inside you, the new position making you gasp out his name repeatedly, loving the way he made you feel.

He kissed you passionately, his hips continuing to drive in and out of you, leaving you breathless and unable to kiss back. Your bodies were a tangle of limbs on the bed, moving together to bring yourselves to your orgasms, passion seeping through your bodies, hot breaths heard throughout the room, and occasional groans escaping Pedri's mouth.

A wave of pleasure washed over your body as you came, your back arching and his name on your lips like a mantra, your hands going down his back as he rode you out of your orgasm, soon following with a few sloppy thrusts into your sensitive core, he came inside of you, gasping your name as he stilled, catching his breath.

He left on last kiss on your lips before getting up and gently pulling out, making his way to the bathroom to run you a bubble bath, picking your tired body up and massaging it with oils so you could relax, before continuing with the rest of the valentines night.

[chromiumagellanic06]

The Silver Knight: Warrior, Princess, Wife

Daemon Targaryen/Original Fem [Targaryen] Character

Chapter 12: Perfection

MASTERLIST

Summary: A strangely intense and out-of-context wedding night

Word count: 5k

Warnings: NSFW Content, incest, uncle-niece incest, smut, purity culture, creampie, cunnilingus, Daemon is his own warning, etc.

Age.

It is the count of name-days one has lived through. It is the number of grey hairs in one’s locks, the clutches of wrinkles on one’s face, the estimation of how hardened the skin of their hands has become. It is the endless count of how many trials one has survived, how many pains one has suffered, and how many joys one has been denied. It is the sum of a person’s life, boiled down and reduced to a single number.

Age.

It is the time that has passed, the decade, the century, the millennia of power and might one has flourished. It is a modicum of history, a way to divide and a way to tell, when ruled that dictator, and when shone that emperor. It is the time a dynasty has prospered, a place has grown, or remained still, or a mix of both.

Valyria.

It was a place of wealth--great, dark, deep, unimaginable wealth. It was a place of gold, obsidian stone, and entire cities forged by fire. It was the place of dragons, of great, horrendous jaws and sharp teeth, of the ripples of scales and the fleshes of wings, and the crescent moons carved into every dragon’s egg. It was the place of engraved iron and steel, the heaven of rubies and blood, and of fires that never ended. It was a land borne and broken and shrouded in darkness. It was the place of fire and blood.

Valyria was Old.

It was old, in its ancient customs, in its blood sorcery passed down from child to babe since the dawn of time. It was old, in its draped flags and thousand-year-aged dragons, in its steel anklets and collars that wrapped around the necks of the fairest maidens, down the hands of the palest ivory skin, down the braided hairs of the worthiest—anklets, necklaces, crowns of iron and rubies and steel, morphed and twisted, etched and shaped to resemble the scales, eyes, wings and jaws of dragons.

It was a land of fire, of blood, of dragons, and of gold, and steel, and stone, and slaves. It was the land of volcanic flames that towered above the tallest buildings, beneath the skies where winged creatures borne of fire and darkness stretched their domain. It was the land where lava poured beside streets of onyx, where topless towers higher than giants were built every day, where the blood of Old Valyria resided—the noblest, the truest, the dragon lords of Essos.

The age of Valyria had been long, it had been grand, it had been forged with the pains of slaves and the braveries of the dragons. It had been lived in the luxury of the Freehold, in the wines and the delicacies, in the fashions and fabrics that were woven and coloured to resemble the hides of dragons, to resemble the eyes of their beasts, to resemble the fire of their beings.

Valyria was gone.

It had been decades, centuries, since the deeds of their own burned them, and since the Fourteen Flames burned too hot and consumed the legacy of centuries old. It had been decades, since the cursed waters of the Smoking Seas ran dark and bloody near the peninsula that once was, since the echoes of the Doom of Old Valyria had begun haunting any who dared venture too far there. It had been years, and years, and years, since the gods of Old Valyria were forgotten, since the might of the old flames were extinguished, since the Freehold collapsed, and the world descended, and the magic of the world died away.

The Valyrians were gone.

The Valyrians, the proud dragon lords who flew above their slaves and the Ghiscari, who mounted the ugliest of beasts and burned any who dared question them, who had raised a land from ash and stone to blood and fire, had died. The Valyrians, who had borne the blood of their magics, who had morphed the flesh and bone of a thousand beasts, had witnessed the births of babes and monstrosities, had witnessed the age of the dragon, and the age of blood magic, and had revelled and grown in its might, were no more.

The Valyrians, the very same people who had yearned for their purity to remain as clear as water, who had wed brother to sister, to preserve the sorcery in their blood, were no more. We are the blood of the dragon, they had claimed at every turn, as bride and groom circled flames and exchanged blood, swore fealty in soul and body, in their dragons and their kin—they were gone, burned by the very same fire that ran through their veins.

The Targaryens survived.

They sailed, and they conquered, and they lived. They ruled, and they fought, and they rode their dragons. The Targaryens survived, but the ways of Old Valyria did not. The lands of the west demanded changes in their rulers, demanded that the old gods be forgotten and the old ways stopped. The lands of the west broke their culture, crumbled it, and put the flames out. They rid the world of the might, the beauty, the oldness and tradition of Valyria.

If Daemon Targaryen could fulfil a single wish of his, irrevocably, completely and indefinitely, it would be to bring back the heights of Valyria, the statutes of its power, the lights of its divinity, and the age of the dragons. It would be to bring back the world where none could dare challenge the dragon lords, where none would dare fathom the complexity of theirs, where none questioned their traditions, and their ways, and their beliefs.

He would bring back the age of the dragon, the blood of old Valyria, the might, the power, the sorcery, the perfection of it all. He would usher in that age of history, where his desires would not be insulted, where his House’s prestige would not be tarnished, where his blood would reign supreme, once, and for all.

One day, he would witness the return of it all, whether by his hand, or not, but he would see the glory, and he would see mastery over all that is seen and known, he would hold the potency of a million dragons, and he would hold his blood, his wife, his niece, his Naera, closer than ever.

Old Valyria was gone, its beauty, its age—the age of the dragons—were gone. The Valyrians were gone, for all they were worth. House Targaryen remained. The Blood of the Dragon—the Blood of Old Valyria, imbued with fire, tempered in the depths of the fourteen flames, remained. He was the blood of the dragon, and so was she. His ancestry was gone, but his present remained. His dragons remained. His House remained. His Naera remained, and if he had another wish to spare, if he had another choice, another gift from the gods, he would have her feel the same.

He would have Naera Targaryen, the Silver Knight of Westeros, the rider of Wisestone, the Blood of the Dragon, yearn for her homeland as she yearned for her freedom and her travel. He would have her yearn as such for the greatness of her past, for the future grace and power of her blood. He would have her yearn for it all, for yearning for her heritage, meant yearning for him. They were the blood of the dragon, and he wished to the Gods of Old Valyria, for he knew them to be the only ones still true, that she would burn as bright as he did, as he always had, for the prestige of their selves, for the regality of their blood, for the success of their kin.

He would make her see—he would make her see the beauty of Valyria, he would read to her, he would tell her every tale there is to tell, he would take her there itself, the Doom be damned, if his Naera understood at the end of it. He would make her see the power of their blood.

But, tubis daor. Not today.

It did not have to be today. There would be a day for everything, a time for everything. This was not the time for a journey to the east, the winds in their faces, the world beneath them spinning past, faster than they could see. This was the time for her—she, who was the queen of some land he did not know, she, who brought power he could never understand, she, who would sing the songs of old magic one day to him, and she, who was perfection personified—this was the time for her worship.

Daemon’s chest hurt, like a clawing, shuddering pain trapped within his heart that broke out, burning, eating, and growing with every breath. He could hear the whistles of his own breathing, going in, and out, and in, and out, and in, and out, faster, and faster, and faster yet, and his hands twitched, almost entirely out of his control, and they moved and squeezed and trembled, out of place, out of touch, out of turn.

Naera stood before him, still dressed, for whoever would dare touch her for their tradition? They couldn’t fathom her beauty in their little minds, Daemon knew, and they shouldn’t. She would kill them in their thoughts, suffocate them in their dreams, and leech away their souls with her perfection if they saw her as she was.

They did not deserve her.

He did.

Naera blinked, blinked and blinked, silver and ivory closing and opening, shielding and showing the lavender, and violet, and purple of her eyes. Her nose stood still, as did her chest, as did her lips, and her hands, and her feet, and her whole self, as though she held her breath, holding, holding, holding for too long, as though she had forgotten to let it go.

She watched Daemon, his hair that grew far too fast and already clustered below his ears and his eyes that dazed at hers through the distance, at the lines on his face where his brows met his nose, where his lips curled into the shadow of a frown, where his jaw clenched shut, where the browned scar of her cut streaked across his cheek, where his eyes narrowed just a fraction, black and blown with thirst and hunger, just to gaze at her with more clarity. Naera tracked the curves and falls of his garb, the dangles of the thin steel chain which held together his cloak, at the clasp of that very chain which was engraved into a miniature of Caraxes, and she let her eyes wander, to the smooth dark silks of his shirt, to the intricate, old, labyrinthine curves and fills in silver and red along his sleeves, below his neck, and on, and on it went, following a pattern reminding of her ancient rituals and sacrifices, of his mind and just him.

She did not know what she was to do. She did not know what she wanted to do, other than a vague, kindling urge to run her hand down the scar on his cheek, to smile as he hissed in pain, to groan as he pulled away her hand and held it in his own. She felt at a loss, lost in all but corporeality, other than the shapeless desire to wind a finger around the dragon-linked chain, and unlock the clasp, and watch the fabric crumple with elegance to the floor. Elegance. That’s the spirit.

That is what she wanted.

“Daemon,” her voice sounded weak, unused, but it went heard too well. Daemon took a step, and another, and another, until his shaking hands held her waist, over the bejewelled dress she had worn to the feast, and they moved up, and down, and up again, as though to map and learn every curve and dip of her form. He did it with simplicity, with practice, with confidence and elegance, and it made Naera gasp and shudder.

“Naera,” yet his voice sounded just as brilliant as his actions felt, deep, musky, aged and experienced, and lived, and pure. “Naera,” and he spoke her name differently, as though he wasn’t trying to lie, as though it was complete, when she knew that it was not. Her name was wrong—it was hollow and broken, incomplete, and yet, he bespoke it with an elegance that prevailed over its flaws. He made it sound finished.

“Daemon,” she let her eyes flutter close at the feeling of his hands, large, warm and wonderful, tracing higher and higher to hold her clothed chest, to feel her rounded breasts beneath all those layers, and she sighed out, in relief, in pleasure, in delight, or something else, she did not know.

“Naera,” he repeated her name, but his tone grew sinful, blasphemous, daring and daunting all the same in a way that crept up and down her neck, her mind, and down to where she felt hot and wet and awake. He said it again, slow, decadent and rich, like one’d name a dish of the finest meats, like one’d term a wine most sweet and pleasurable, like one'd confess one’s darkest desires onto a paramour. Filthy, and lovely.

“I…” and Naera broke the trance, broke their symphony of names and his touches, and her eyes blinked open. She found him staring at her still, at her eyes, at the fine lines of obsidian which streaked her pupils, at the depth and endless darkness of her irises, and she could only shudder, she could only gasp, and wish a sob, but it was not the time. There would be a time for tears—there would be a time to console over how deep and endless his desire ran, how strangely he made her feel. There would be a time for it, but tubis daor—not today, not when she felt as if a dragon had breathed fire unto her soul and set her mind ablaze.

“Let me,” Daemon told her, without ever really asking, as she’d refuse now was a thought beyond his conception, and she agreed. She couldn’t stop now. She wouldn’t stop now.

With a look she would only call hunger, and a stature sinking with crave, he brushed his lips to hers, slow, gentle, breaking and returning, and almost sweet, and certainly gentle, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t hold the fire within. He pulled his hands up, to hold her burning cheeks, to coax open her mouth and to drink in her taste of sour wine and cherries, and to let their tongues dance.

Lust.

Her chest rose, and fell, rose, and fell again, faster, and faster, until she panted, gasping, breathless, and he pulled away, watched the glow of magenta in her blown pupils glimmer and twinkle, and thin further, and further until he saw just a ring of clear lilac again. She blinked away the last of her hesitation, the last of her crazed and held breaths, and she laughed, out of place, out of turn, like a stammer of rain in a desert long known for its barren lands. Unneeded, but delightful, and destructive.

Daemon growled, and he trailed kisses down her lips, down her chin, to the dip of her throat, and to her neck—her smooth, supple neck, and he sucked, and bit and he kissed, and kissed and kissed, and it wasn’t enough—nothing would be enough. She tasted of sweat and sweetness and metal, and she smelled of bitter inks and old parchments and flowers, and he would drain her of every last drop of taste, and he would go thirsty still.

Naera trailed a hand down his chest, past the weaves and threads of his shirt and his dark cloak, past the girth of his muscles, and up, up, until she reached his collar, and the steel chain glistered in the candlelight. She tightened two fingers around it, and tugged at it, strong, shocking, breaking the clasp off its place, and the ruffling of fabric graced her ears, his cloak falling to the ground in curves and folds and twists. She trailed her hands up, to his chest, to his neck, and chased his lips with hers.

When she gasped for breath again, he pulled off her, taking her hand, taking her waist, and walking her back, back, and further down to his beds. He leaned his forehead against hers, noses touching, breaths mingling, and he pressed her down, gentle, kind, precious, against the mattress. Naera laid back, her hands running across the white sheets, the texture just an agitating burn, a different kind of dread settling within her.

He wouldn’t care, she knew—no one cared. It was an age-old tradition, and her dear uncle knew better than to depend on its fragility. Daemon would not care that she’s no maiden, but she felt wrong, and guilty, of a crime never committed. Daemon saw her fear, saw her hesitation drain back into her eyes, saw her grow stiffer and colder, and he felt agony.

“No.” He refused, taking her hands off the sheets, taking her fear in his heart, and he leaned down, close to her, warm breaths fanning across his face, and he told her, again, “Ñuhon iksā,” you are mine, but with somehow no malice, no enslavement, no cruelty in his words, only pride, only lust, only sin of a wonderful kind, “I do not care about your past,” for one day, he shall know it all, and then repeat his words again, and repeat every action of his, again, and again, and again, until she forgot those crimes, forgot those others.

Naera sighed into his mouth, his lips moulding against hers, dry, then wet, then hungry, and then famished. She hummed something fazed, something not meant to be understood, but only taken at the face value as agreement. He ran his fingers down the crests and jewels along her dress, down to the lace-ridden hips, and lower, and lower.

Daemon kissed her hands, her fingers, her lips, and dragged himself down to the marble floors of his chambers. He hooked his hands under her knees, under her white and grey skirts, and he fell back, to the floors, on his knees. He dragged her to the edge, and he felt the laces and satins hum beneath his touch. He peeled a layer off, letting it fall in bunch at her waist, and another, and another, until he finally saw his reward. His bride, and her long legs, smooth, though scarred in some places, but delicate, and soft in the right places, and his. He dragged down whatever small clothes she wore, ignored her shudders, and drank in her anticipation which only intoxicated him further. Delightful.

Daemon pulled apart her thighs, parting her legs, and settled them on his shoulders. He dragged his calloused hands down her legs, leaning down to delight in her smell—iron, flowers, and just everything nice, and he couldn’t help his smile, his smirk, and the joy that befell him. His trousers felt tight, tighter, and too much, but he relented.

“Gevives,” he only said. Beauty. Naera shuddered again, chest rising up, and falling down, painfully tight, scaringly tight within her corset. Daemon dived forth, his smirk never besmirched, and he tasted her.

Naera mewled with careless abandon, moaned out praises, desperate, and her hands directed his hair, knowing, tugging, gripping, sighing at its spider silk texture, and she broke into another moan, and another, as he closed his lips over her clit, and he sucked with a force unneeded. Daemon let his tongue trail up, down, and then into her cunt, tasting her sweet, flowery, metallic self, that was warm, hot, hotter than a flame, and so much more delicious, that he could only drink her in, lick after lick, moan after moan.

Her legs tried flaying free, but he held them tighter, as Daemon squeezed a finger through her velvet folds, through her tight, dripping cunt, and he heard Naera go louder, faster, moving her hips to aid in his movements, and she screamed as unlike as could be, to a whore, or another woman, for she moaned with a deeper ruse to her voice, a different kind of frayed innocence, an unknown shade of lust, that was all held and loved and done in a single word. Perfection.

He felt her tighten, felt her hands tighten in his hair, heard her moans grow higher and higher in pitch, and as does a scale about to crescendo, she would too. He sped himself up, pushing in another finger to brush against her tender walls, while his lips returned to her clutch of nerves, and he counted the thrusts of his fingers, the swipes of his tongue, one, two, three, and oh, she broke her legs free, and pulled his face into her legs, and there, a rush of wetness, a cacophony of whines and moans, and pleads and praises, and a word repeated through it all.

Daemon.

“That’s it,” he shushed, and hummed, and the reverberations of his voice sent tingles through her cunt, through her weakening legs, through her mind. Her feet fell slack, and Daemon crawled back up the mattress, slow, silent, like a preying cat, or a hungry beast. Like a dragon, Naera supposed, as her eyes felt tired and heavy, but her breathing, and her gasping kept her awake.

“Daemon,” she praised another time, pleaded, chanted, and he kissed her lips, making her taste himself. Daemon pulled her up by the shoulders, made her sit despite the heaviness in her shoulders, rocking back, and forth, and back, and forth, gently, in a rhythm she let him form, foreheads touching. A smile lingered on his lips, a devilish sort of smile which faded very quickly into a smirk, and she laughed through her nose at it.

“Naera,” he called her name again, kindly, gently, and again, but softer, darker. She faced his eyes again, saw the urges and the desires, and he lifted her up onto his lap. She felt the flurry of fabric around her legs, and she moaned at the drag of his trousers against her bare cunt as he continued rocking, slow, gentle, calculated, counted.

Daemon threw his face into her chest, into the jewels embedded with the silks, breathing the smell of wine and metal that seemed different every second breath. Not enough, and he reached a hand behind, tugging at the bindings for her gown, skilfully, nimbly, until the fabric loosened, and he dragged it down to her waist. Naera pulled away her arms, freeing herself from the sleeves.

Daemon wrapped a finger around the locks of her silver hair that fell upon her face, twirled the bunch and cast it away, smirking, smiling, yearning, but with a calmness that ran short with every inch of skin she revealed. Naera reached behind herself, no thoughts, no hesitation, and pulled at the cinch of her corset, loosening it enough.

Daemon sighed halfway, and his face trailed lines, his nose brushed past the curves and skin and flesh of her neck, and every breath of his sent her moaning, every shift in his stature making her gasp in sync. He unhooked the front of her corset, one at a time, torturously slow, two, three, four, and his resolve had all but collapsed, as he rocked her hips against his, dragged her wet cunt across his legs, and she moaned, light, breathy, at the edge of pleasure. Perfect. Five, and he snatched the corset with haste, and tossed it somewhere away. The clink of glass and shatter of bottles made it clear that she would not be very appeased to wear it again.

“Gevie,” Beautiful, and her breasts were rounded and full, and her skin was smooth and soft, and her waist dipped like a thundering tide, and rose again, with sharp angles, near the hips. He felt his cock push painfully against his pants, but he ignored it. There would be a time for everything. He took a mouthful of her flesh, of her delightful skin, of her gorgeous breasts, and he wound his tongue around her in circles, holding her back still as Naera moved her cunt against the fabric of his trousers, now drenched, and she moaned at his every touch, whined at every flick of her nipples and sighed at every squeeze of her skin.

She dragged herself across him once, twice, and again, but her time was up, and she clutched his garb in desperation, her face dropping to his shoulders, and he held her, rocked her, moved her, until she came back to sense.

Daemon felt her wet slick course through the fabric of his trousers, his legs damp where she sat atop them, and he felt his skin sweat, and heat, and ache.

“Kepus,” she addressed for the first time that evening, winded, puffing, wheezing in turn, and felt his resistance crumble.

Daemon groaned, in a way Naera could only register as starved, and he caught her lips again, harsher, stronger, dissident and strident, and he took her down, leaned on her, breathed on her as would a lion to his deer—as would a dragon to his sheep—as would a predator to its prey, and it burned her, it boiled her, it made her wish to tear into a thousand pieces, all at once.

“Nuha gevie abrazyrys,” my beautiful bride, and he was tearing away his breeches, throwing off his shirt, pulling the remainder of her dress off her waist, and down, down, down her legs and off to clutter somewhere else. Daemon ran his hand down his cock, finally out and free, wet with the slick his fingers had dealt with, and he watched, and gazed, and gazed, at her molten gold and silver locks that lay spread beneath her head, at the red bruises littered across her rounded breasts, and her cunt—beautiful, tiny and ready for him. His Valyrian bride.

Naera felt him raise her legs, and she did him the courtesy of wrapping them around him, and he smirked, and he burned, and he was hers, until the end of their days—he was hers.

He held his cock, and brushed the tip against her wet cunt, waiting, watching, tarrying, but no more, and he pushed in, inch, after inch, in, and in, and gods, he groaned at the warmth, at the thundering, boiling, brewing heat, at the tightness, at the way she squeezed him without trying.

“How are you this fucking tight?” Daemon groaned out, head leaning down, breathing her scent, her sultry aromas, and he feared his ability to last. Naera held her eyes shut, letting out sounds less than dignified as his cock stretched her beyond words, and made her ache, and hurt, and moan, and sigh.

“Shhh…” she spoke, a sprinkle of bravado, a spoonful of bravery, and far too much exhaustion mingled with her heat and her desire, “Dīnagon, kepus,” Move, uncle, and he bore deeper into her at her words, leaning down, eye to eye, darkened eyes blown with mischief, with taunt, with rebellion, and her smirk nearly matched his own.

He held her hips tight enough to bruise, and he obeyed. With a shudder, he pulled out half his way, and slammed into her heat, groaning at the way she sucked him in again, and she threw her head back with a scream, and wheezing, voiceless, Naera moaned.

He pulled back again, and thrusted into her, again, and again, and again, and felt her squeeze him tighter, and tighter, and harsher, as though to suck the life out of him, and oh, he loved it. She arched her back, held by her elbows.

Daemon groaned, pitch high for him, and roared out, gritty, brash, abrasive and brilliant, “Look at you, my lovely lady wife,” and he crept a hand down to her cunt, to her clit, and brushed a thumb across it. “Taking your kepa’s cock, oh, you do love it, don’t you, my whorish little bride…” His Valyrian Bride, who moaned at every turn and squeezed his cock too well, with too much vigour, with too much beauty for him to hold back.

Daemon crushed into her with a wheeze, sliding in, and out, and then again, and spitting absolute filth down her ears, “I should have stolen you away to Dragonstone the minute we kissed—oh, but how fiery you were, my little knight, my little bride, with your resistance…” Fun while it lasted, Naera would have jabbed, was she not near failing at her words the very moment. Her mind was blurred, with the pains of his harshness and the pleasure of his making, and gods, he really did know what she wanted.

“I…” Naera broke her words, nothing sounding at all, as her eyes clenched shut, and her core tightened, her release dangling oh, so near, and she knew he’d be devious. She knew that one day, he’d deny her the pleasure for hours on end, but tubis daor—not today, for his own restraint had crumbled with the pleasures he gave her, and his thrusts were growing sloppy, untimed, out of rhythm and out of place, and he knew how close she was, he knew what it would take for her to tumble off the edge for good.

Daemon circled her clit with his finger, and she roared in ecstasy, tightening around him, fluids gushing, pressure rushing, and he collapsed over her, and he said, “There, my good girl—I should fill you with my seed, make you round and full with child,” and Daemon gasped, with a loud groan, and a bruising grip of her body, spilling himself in one, two, three spurts of warm seed.

He could hear the beating of her heart—frantic, uneven, and her mindless gasping, wheezing and the symphony of her body as it curled around her, arms tightening, legs wrapping, and there, with a final breath, it was over.

She was his, and he was hers.

MASTERLIST

[kaash-customs]

The Emotional Significance of Custom Name Anklets

In the realm of jewelry, every piece has the power to tell a story, evoke emotions, and serve as a tangible reminder of cherished moments. Among the myriad options, custom anklet with name holds a special place due to the profound emotional significance they carry. These personalized ankle bracelets not only adorn your feet but also weave tales of connection, identity, and heartfelt sentiments. Visit Now :

[loverthyme]

Little ways to embrace your gender for when it’s not safe to express it in big ways (from a closeted genderqueer still living with conservative parents)

-Wearing your gender’s underwear

-Wearing your gender’s deodorant

-Wearing your gender’s good smelling stuff (perfume, cologne, etc.)

-Wearing your gender’s socks (you can do no-shows or wear long pants if that would be a problem)

-Using any kind of your gender’s toiletries (shampoo, conditioner, body wash, shaving cream, hair product, etc.)

-Taking your gender’s multivitamins (it’s weird but I actually kind of like it)

-Shaving/not shaving your body hair accordingly to your desires (areas like chest, armpits, genitalia, possibly legs if safe, even feet)

-Wearing your gender’s accessories (if needed to prevent harassment subtler bracelets and necklaces under your shirt could help. anklets are also hella cute)

-Keeping a little trinket/charm on your person that makes you feel represented and safe, fiddling with/looking at it whenever you have a moment to yourself

-Making your video game characters your gender if they have the option, customizing them how you want to present and naming them your chosen name if you have one

-If you have anyone or any place to share your gender identity with--whether it be a secondary social media account, an online friend/mutual, or your stuffed animal--share it. Just putting it out there into words can be so therapeutic.

You are perfect exactly the way you are and I genuinely hope you are able to get into a safe, healthy environment for you as soon as possible.

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US: (877) 565-8860

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[panoplysilver]

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[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

          Saengdao Thanom, a 25 year old son of Nut.           He is an engineer with the MPFD and a pro paintball strategist.

FC NAME/GROUP: Ohm Pawat/ Actor CHARACTER NAME: Saengdao Thanom AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 25/ June 21st, 1997 PLACE OF BIRTH: Krabi Town, Thailand OCCUPATION: Engineer at the MPFD, Pro Paintball Strategist, Co-owner of a Paintball Arena located outside Mount Phoenix HEIGHT: 6’1 WEIGHT: 169 lbs DEFINING FEATURES: 

His hair is perpetually shaggy and a bit messy. Looks rather fluffy about 90% of the time but any time he pulls his hair back or gets his hair trimmed the effect is very noticeable.

He wears a lot of bracelets and dangly things when in casual/comfy clothing. All of them are custom made or are mostly made from leather and hemp.

Piercings: Two Lobe Piercings and an Industrial in his Left ear, One Lobe and a Helix piercing in his right ear.

Tattoos: STARLIGHT written in a Stylized font followed with a tiny moon and three stars on his right hip, Another set of stars on the back of his neck (One big one, two small ones all clustered together) 

Scars: Jagged line through his left shoulder (Definitely an injury that needed stitches and was not patched professionally), Gunshot graze on his right side (near his ribs, looks like it barely missed something vital.), three faint scars circling around the area just above his left ankle (Covered by three anklets that he almost never removes.)

PERSONALITY: Saengdao is bright and kind. He’s gentle to a fault but is always determined and ready to protect his friends. He’s incredibly protective towards those he’s close with but he’s not someone that would let his protective nature get out of hand. He cares a lot about his friends but he always believes in letting people make mistakes in order for them to grow. He’s generally docile and sweet but if someone threatens those he chooses to protect, that person better run as fast as they can. There are times when he can be quite puppy-like as well, happy and teasing with gentle smiles all around. He’s very playful as well, fond of jokes and having fun. He likes getting to know people, always eager to make more friends.

There is a bit of darkness deep beneath all the smiles, however.

While Saengdao is very kind and supportive and sweet to his friends and those he hangs out with, he has a tendency to not be quite as open and bright when it comes to himself and his personal mistakes. He has a bit of trauma from how he grew up between ages fifteen and twenty, followed by even more trauma that developed from an incident at around age twenty two (or three). He has a very low opinion of himself and his self-worth in comparison to those he cares for. He’s harsh with himself whenever he makes mistakes and even has a habit of blaming himself in situations far outside his control. 

He struggles with expressing all these things as well, preferring to hide the negative thoughts and feelings behind a facade of smiles and a near hyper-focused fixation on helping his friends with their problems versus talking about his own. He needs to be poked and prodded by his more perceptive friends any time he falls into a negative mindset before he ever tries focusing on it or explaining his thoughts. But all around, Saengdao is a friend that can be counted on and a true friend for life.

HISTORY: Seangdao has experienced much over time. His life being one full of the light he shares with everyone, leaving none for himself. When he was young, his father moved the two of them away from their home in Thailand to make way for a new job that his father believed would be better for the both of them. They ended up in Los Angeles. Through some personal debate on his father’s part, the two of them started living in Koreatown there. It had the base of an asian community, despite the culture differences it still was a place that was close enough to home that Saengdao’s father felt comfortable raising him there. 

(Though Saengdao has no knowledge of the thoughts inside his father’s head, the man also thought Koreatown was a good place to live due to the chance that, should Dao leave and find his own way in the future, his son might one day make it to Mount Phoenix as well and thus giving him much needed experience and knowledge to make living there easier as well. For the man was fully aware of the goddess that had gifted him with his little bundle of gentle starlight.)

Soon after their arrival in Koreatown, Saengdao met and befriended another child. He was younger than him by about a year but from that moment on, with the sudden surge of strong but gentle protectiveness filling his small body, Dao decided he’d be there for him whenever he needed him. This was his first meeting with Lio. They became fast friends after that, soon realizing the two of them were neighbors and hanging out often.

Dao also started getting into a lot of fights after meeting Lio, the urge to keep his new friend safe combined with the need to teach the younger’s bullies a lesson any time they harassed the younger boy causing him to immediately try fighting them. Anyone who wanted to bother the younger male had to go through him first. No excuses. Despite this, Dao did keep himself bright and gentle. He always kept to the thought that you shouldn’t attack someone unless they tried to hit you first. He usually tried to talk to people first, only those being mean or threatening being the ones to face his wrath from the start.

Even when Lio had to move away from Koreatown, the two of them still kept in contact.

A lot of things changed for Saengdao between the ages of fourteen and fifteen. He’d noticed a change in his best friend. The other male had shifted dramatically, both physically and in personality. He wanted to ask him if he was okay, to check on him more. But shortly after this change in his friend, Saengdao’s life entered an upheaval. His father suddenly passed away, leaving him alone and lost before his aunt appeared and had him return to Thailand with her.

A series of unfortunate events continued to follow him around once he was back in his birthplace. His aunt had adopted him, but she was the mother of two girls and his uncle (now adopted father) struggled to deal with having a son after years of raising his two daughters. Dao still got into fights and the man could only respond with corporal punishment. Something that didn’t help either of them in the long run. 

Eventually, the man reached his breaking point and ended up kicking Dao out despite his wife and their children’s protests. He was his adoptive son, his nephew, but he didn’t know how to handle him or his protective nature.

Saengdao still kept in contact with Lio, the letters they sent each other always taking some time to make it but eventually they got to where they needed. He did stop sometimes, dealing with the twist of ugly feelings he’d begun to develop since his uncle had started his punishments and struggling to find the words he wanted to say until he’d pushed all the negativity away to deal with later.

Life got better after a little while, Dao discovering a small group of others like himself. Homeless and lost, needing a family. He visited his cousins (sisters) and aunt where he could, careful to keep out of sight of his uncle any time he visited for the man forbade him from ever returning to them. He went to school once he’d gotten to a better place, him and his new family all doing odd jobs and other types of work to make a living they all shared. He managed to get into a Faculty of Engineering, a smaller school than the more famous places of learning but it was still good enough to earn a valid education and a solid degree in engineering. 

It was good, until it wasn’t.

Dao’s little family got caught up in one of the worst situations that could have ever happened. An all out turf war between two competing cartels. Their little abandoned building that the group of them had built a home out of was caught between the two territories and the group of them had no choice but to learn how to defend themselves. They got drawn deep into the war, struggling and fighting to stay alive despite all the chaos but one mistake cost all of them greatly. Two of Dao’s friends, his family, the eldest members of their group lost their lives. 

Not only that, but another friend also ended up permanently disabled for the rest of their life.

And Dao blamed himself for all of it.

He struggled hard, dealing with everything building up and snowballing in his mind. He thought of ways that they could have avoided the situation, other ways the whole thing could have gone until the one remaining friend snapped him out of the spiraling and gave him something new to strive for. They moved in with the other friends they had, ones outside their little family with homes of their own but still close enough to offer support.

Saengdao and his now deaf and mute friend began learning sign language together, focusing on moving forwards with their lives while knowing the friends they both lost wouldn’t want them to drown in their grief.

Lio stopped contacting him, and Saengdao had some trouble dealing with that fact. He’d wondered why, not sure if it was something he’d done or something else. It drove him crazy until one of his friends offered him more things to do and his focus shifted to learning more about handicapped communities between attempts to overcome some of his trauma with professional paintball. 

His friends thought it would help and it did, he took to it fast and started doing better once more.

One day, his aunt brought him a little notebook. It was one of his father’s possessions left behind in Thailand. It explained a lot of things for him, bringing light to the existence of demigods and the fact that Saengdao himself was one as well. Thus, he headed to Korea, to try and find this place that his father had found out about so long ago. He landed in Ichinen, but it took a lot of time to find the bridge. 

It felt like months, but over that course of time he’d formed a couple of new friendships. One with a quiet owner of a paintball arena that he ended up spending enough time at to form a close bond with the older person who oversaw it, and one with another demigod like himself. Someone who’d also had trouble finding the bridge to what could be a true home for the both of them. They’d bonded a lot, Saengdao growing fond of the baker and forming a close friendship with him that stood strong even as they finally spotted the bridge that led the way into their new home. To Mount Phoenix.

PANTHEON: Egyptian CHILD OF: Nut POWERS: 

Natural protective instincts

More energetic on sunny days and weaker on cloudy days

Minor stellar manipulation at night

STRENGTHS: 

Sunny Days. He has a lot of energy when the skies are clear and the sun is bright. These days are his activity days. He gets a lot done where he can when he has the excess energy to burn.

Naturally protective. His protective instincts are high class and he’s always there for those he considers under his protection. It keeps him alert to dangers and fairly empathetic to his friends.

Skilled with Strategy and Tactics. From learned experiences over time, Saengdao has a good mind when it comes to thinking his way through problems or tactical issues and resolving them. He knows how to look at a problem or setting and come up with a successful plan to combat it.

Multilingual. Knows Thai, English, Korean, and Arabic. He also knows Thai Sign(TSL), American Sign(ASL), and Korean Sign(KSL).

WEAKNESSES: 

Cloudy Days. He gets weak and tired to the point of lethargy. Oftentimes he’ll end up sleeping until the skies clear up.

Has issues with his own self worth in comparison to friends and those he wants to protect.

Suffers from PTSD due to ‘causing’ the loss of two of his close friends and the permanent injuries suffered by another friend that rendered them deaf/mute for life. Mistakes were made by all of them but Saengdao believes the entire thing was his fault.

Puts on a façade when his thoughts and feelings aren’t the brightest. He’ll put up a front of being happy and comfortable even when the things going on in his head are very much not the kindest in regards to himself. He won’t admit to any of it either unless cornered and given no choice but to explain where his thoughts are going.

[boobtoucher89]

MIA IS HERE!!! I haven’t done a proper photoshoot with her still, just because i haven’t found a good place to yet, but i finished refurbishing her a week or two ago and i love her very much :~) i named her mia because that was written on her motherboard, i don’t know if that was from the factory or from someone who also tried to customize her … she’s been a great friend to sit on my desk and chill!!! i might make her some lace little anklets or something soonish, i have this pink lace that i think would suit her perfectly …. until then please give her a warm welcome!!! ^_^ <3

[choora]

Embracing Tradition: The Significance of Wedding Bangles

In Indian weddings, particularly in North Indian and Punjabi cultures, bridal chura or traditional wedding bangles hold an emotional and cultural significance that has been passed down through generations. These bangles aren’t merely ornaments; they represent a bride’s journey into her new life, blessings from her family, and the customs that bind her to her roots. In recent years, bridal chura trends have evolved, with brides choosing to add personal touches that reflect both tradition and individuality. Let's dive into the cultural depth of wedding chura and explore how modern styles and personalization make these bangles even more special.

1. The Cultural Essence of Wedding Chura

The wedding chura set, traditionally red and white, symbolizes good luck, love, and prosperity for the bride as she steps into her new life. In traditional Punjabi and Sikh weddings, it is believed that these bangles shield the bride from negative energy and bring blessings to her and her husband’s future together. Typically made of ivory and embellished with gold and stone designs, wedding churas are considered essential bridal bangles for weddings.

2. Bridal Chura Ceremonies and Symbolism

A pivotal moment in the wedding festivities is the chura ceremony, where the bride’s maternal uncle and aunt place these bangles on her wrists. This ceremony often includes blessings, family prayers, and sometimes the attachment of kaleere, decorative danglers symbolizing well-wishes for the bride’s happiness. The chura remains with the bride for a traditional period, often up to 40 days, and removing it is a symbolic end to the initial stage of her married life.

3. Evolution and Trends in Bridal Chura Designs

With modern bridal fashion, chura designs have expanded to suit individual tastes, while still maintaining their cultural significance. Today's bridal chura trends offer everything from minimalist designs to intricate churas with embellishments and patterns. These updated styles allow brides to match their wedding chura with their overall attire while expressing their unique style.

4. Customization in Wedding Chura

For brides seeking a more personal touch, custom wedding chura options allow the addition of meaningful symbols, names, or dates. Many brides now prefer adding gold or silver bangles to their traditional chura or incorporating pastel hues that match the wedding’s color scheme. Customizing these bangles is a way for brides to celebrate their new journey while keeping family tradition alive.

5. Wedding Chura as a Timeless Indian Bridal Accessory

Beyond fashion, the wedding chura serves as a constant reminder of the bride's family and loved ones, symbolizing their support as she embarks on her new life. Alongside other Indian bridal accessories such as maang tikka, anklets, and earrings, the bridal chura completes her traditional look, adding a touch of elegance and heritage to her attire.

6. Guidelines for Wearing and Removing the Chura

The tradition of wearing the chura varies; some brides wear it for 40 days, while others choose to keep it on for an entire year. When it’s time for removal, some families have a chura removal ceremony to mark the occasion. For brides wondering, “Can chura be removed and worn again?”—while traditionally, it is a one-time wear, modern customs allow brides to re-wear or store them as a keepsake.

7. How to Choose Your Bridal Chura

Selecting the perfect bridal chura involves choosing designs that resonate with your style while honoring tradition. Look for chura designs that blend with your bridal outfit and reflect your personality. With options in vibrant colors, mixed metals, and detailed carvings, today's brides have a wide array of choices to make their wedding chura truly memorable.

8. Preserving and Cherishing Wedding Chura

After the wedding, some brides choose to store their chura as a cherished memory, while others may pass it down as a family heirloom. Keeping the chura in good condition allows it to be a lasting reminder of the special day and the love and blessings it symbolizes.

In essence, wedding churas are more than just bangles—they are symbols of love, blessings, and the timeless beauty of Indian bridal accessories. With evolving trends and customization options, bridal chura continues to celebrate the bond between tradition and modernity, allowing each bride to carry a part of her heritage while expressing her unique identity.

[strangethejeweller]

Permanent Jewelry: Innovating on the Bracelets, Accessories & Ring Sizing

Jewellery is not just an ornament; it means something to people, is associated with events, and can be someone’s individuality. Over the last couple of years, several markets have come up with trending permanent jewelry, and permanent bracelets near me. Whether you’re searching for a custom method of honoring something specific or just desire something that becomes a form of armor, the concept behind permanent jewelry is as chic as it is topical. In addition to this, simple services such as getting a ring resized near me have also increased in GI. The prime reason is that GIs have greatly increased the ease of getting a ring resized near me.

Permanent Bracelets: A Lasting Keepsake

A permanent bracelet is definitely what it’s named: a bracelet that is welded or soldered or closed in a way that cannot be opened and thus doesn’t have a clasp. These thin threads of metal typically gold or sterling silver are hand-adjusted to the size of the client’s wrist and then soldered for closure. It is common knowledge that when looking for a permanent bracelet near me most of the jewelers and boutiques will provide this service. This would normally mean that you choose your chain, and the jeweler will then fit it to your wrist and then use a very fine laser to melt the edges of the chain to shut them completely. The process is painless, fast, and safe, and you get a piece of jewel you wear through life until you get it taken off.

A view into the popularity and process of Permanent Jewelry

Thus, although permanent bracelets near me have become the main focus, the idea of permanent jewelry is much wider. There are similar services for anklets, necklaces, or even rings and bangles as well you can order. Such jewelry is in demand among those who prefer simple and concise accessories and are ready to wear jewelry daily, without thinking about its deterioration.

About performing permanent jewelry one of the main reasons why individuals require them is because inherent features signify entities. It either symbolizes a relationship the achievement of a personal goal, or even a life principle; it tells a story.

This means that when one is searching for a ring resizing service provider, it is very important that this person hires the services of a reputable jeweler to avoid damaging the valuable piece. Usually, ring resizing means adding or subtracting metal to or from the band to reach the right size. Proficient jewelers are going to maintain the structural balance of the ring to retain its looks and longevity.

How to get it Right with Permanent Jewelry and Resizing Services?

Here are a few tips to help you choose the right professional for your needs:

Expertise: If it will be permanent jewelry or is heading to involve resizing of pretty sensitive pieces then the specific jeweler must carry out this service. Enquire about their procedure and things they have done before.

Materials: Ensure that the jeweler uses high-quality workmanship for the permanent jewelry. No matter if you select gold, silver, or other metal types, the materials need to be sturdy and provide long life cycles.

Personalization: Permanent jewelry is a very big decision so getting a jeweler who will allow for changes allows you will allow you to get a perfect piece that aligns with your style and meaning.