#round diamond drop earrings

[diamondemotions]

How To Style Round Diamond Drop Earrings To Look Classy?

Drop earrings can add a flawless finishing touch to any outfit. Choosing earrings that go with your outfit and look attractive would be best. Drop earrings come in many designs, colors, and shapes; thus, we need clarification on how to style these with your everyday outfit.This blog will help you choose the best round diamond drop earrings that fit your face and outfit. Below are some ways to style diamond earrings. Read more: https://www.blogbangboom.com/blog/how-to-style-round-diamond-drop-earrings-to-look-classy

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: NANAMI

A/N: So sorry this is getting reposted. Tumblr got glitch-y and it went away. Hopefully the second read around is just as enjoyable!!

C/W: Breeding, Mature. 18+

“You’d make such a beautiful mother.”

Nanami comes up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist. He travels up your torso to cup your tender, swollen mounds spilling over his favorite tank top.

“Ken,” you whine and wince back into him.

You’re so focused on chopping vegetables, you let him grope you. No use fighting it. If you slapped his hands away they’d be back in less than a second. Magnets to your perfect frame.

You’re ovulating.

He knows it like clock work.

You become docile. With puffy, tender breasts. And so emotional. Tears flow at a harsh breeze, much less anything else. Forgetful. Flustered. You hang off of him like perfectly cooked Lamb off a bone.

You’re ovulating. His cock is hard nearly 24 hours a day when you’re supple like this.

“Oh goddamit,” the knife comes down, loud and shrill on the marble island.

Nanami bites back a grin, he knows whatever it is is inconsequential.

“What is it, my love?” His hands trail down to your stomach. Cock beating against his thigh thinking about how pretty it’ll look swollen with his seed.

You dive your face into your hands. Crystal tears flowing from your eyes through the slim spaces of your elegant fingers. Sparkling against the Diamond engagement ring. He pulls you in tighter, unashamed of his erection now digging into your back.

“I-I forgot, I forgot the stupid basil at the store and now dinner is ruined.” More sobs. You melt back into his arms. Absolutely devastated.

“Ahhh, yes. So ruined.” His gentle teasing opens the flood gates.

The Pacific Ocean flows out of you and he’s even more fond. More turned on.

“Ken!” You scold him, turn around and dive into the crook of his neck. All in one fair motion.

“I was trying to be a good fiancé. I wanted to make this perfect. And I can’t even I can’t —“

“Shhh.” Nanami lifts you onto him. You wrap your legs around his waist. Drenching his work shirt in diamond tears.

His back hits the couch, and you’ve calmed to just baby sniffles with his constant rubbing.

“Let me take care of it.” He rasps out. Not even trying to hide his strain. You nod and bring the back of your hand to your puffy eyes.

And this is why he wants to fill you with his cum. Keep you pregnant. Soft, open. Tender hearted. Your kids would be born from the purest love.

It’s a daydream that exists on cinematic repeat in his mind. How he could change the shape of your beautiful body. Round your hips. Swell your feminine torso. Fill your breasts with nourishment for the little one you create together. It makes his cock leak and twitch and lead pipe hard. At work. At the gym. While eating. When you’re like this. Like this. He feels like an animal. Insatiable. You bring out the most primal parts of him. To provide. Protect.

Procreate.

He dreams about you staying at home, nurturing your little family. Coming home to you nourishing the baby with your gorgeous, plump…

God.

He’d drop his pants and push his cock past your pretty lips at the same time. Feed you while you’re feeding the love child he put in you.

Your sugary, soft gasp tethers him to reality. Eyes fixed on his restrained dick, begging for release.

“Kento, you’re so…” your dulcet voice trails off and you palm his length through his pants.

Nanami hisses. Unashamed of the growing stain of his precum seeping through his khaki work slacks. Not the first time.

“Let me make you a mother, baby.” His voice grazes the shell of your ear and you shudder into him.

“Ken.”

So “stern” but you keep petting his dick in the way that drives him insane. “We can’t because I think I—“

“You’re ovulating.” He finishes your thought with a buck of his hips into your hand. Greedy for more touch. More warmth.

Fine, fine. You’ve already compromised with him to stop taking the birth control and track naturally. He won’t push it. Watching how your hormones ebb and flow within your body is a privilege, so he won’t push.

For now.

“Let’s get takeout, baby.”

(PART II)

[starsjulia]

spoilt rotten // leah williamson

masterlist

a/n : i flipping love writing leah x spoilt reader so here’s another one

warnings : fluff, playful teasing, kinda suggestive at the end

Leah Williamson was known for her unwavering focus on the pitch—sharp, commanding, and completely in control. As Arsenal’s vice captain, she knew how to lead, how to push her teammates to be the best, and how to give everything for the badge. But when it came to you? Well, Leah was nothing short of head over heels, and everyone knew it.

You were, simply put, breathtaking. A model with a body that could stop traffic, and a face so stunning it made people stare. Your presence was captivating, whether you were at a glamorous event or just lounging at home in one of Leah’s old hoodies. And Leah? She couldn’t help but spoil you rotten, constantly doting on you, treating you like a princess. It was something her teammates never let her forget.

The latest round of teasing came after a grueling win for Arsenal. The team was in high spirits, buzzing from the post-match high as they headed out for a team bonding dinner at one of London’s trendiest restaurants. The private room was filled with laughter and chatter, but all eyes turned when you walked in, your arm linked with Leah’s, her hand resting possessively on your lower back.

Dressed in a sleek outfit that hugged your curves perfectly, you looked every bit the model you were—effortlessly chic, and drop-dead gorgeous.

Leah, as always, couldn’t take her eyes off you. She was practically glued to your side, her thumb tracing gentle circles against the small of your back. Her teammates, well, they were all too used to it by now, but it didn’t stop them from throwing their usual jabs.

“Oh, here she is—our very own supermodel,” Katie called out, her Irish accent coming through as she grinned at you. “Come on then, Leah, what’s it gonna be tonight? More Chanel? Maybe a trip to Milan? She’s got you wrapped, mate.”

You laughed, used to the teasing by now, as you slid into the booth next to Leah. “I’m thinking diamonds, Katie. It’s been a while, hasn’t it, babe?” you teased, turning to Leah with a playful glint in your eye.

Leah groaned softly, rolling her eyes but smiling nonetheless. “Only the best for you,” she murmured, her arm slipping around your shoulders as she pulled you close. Her lips brushed the side of your temple, her voice low enough that only you could hear, “You deserve the world, love.”

Katie snorted from across the table, leaning back in her chair. “Jesus Christ, she’s got you good. You’d buy her the moon if she asked, wouldn’t you?”

Beth, who was sitting across from you, grinned and elbowed Caitlin. “Aye, I reckon she already has. I mean, look at ‘em.”

Caitlin chuckled, her Aussie accent thick as she nodded. “Mate, I think we’ve all accepted Leah’s never gonna say no to her. She’s gone.”

Leah just smiled, unbothered by the jabs, and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “They’re just jealous,” she whispered in your ear, her breath warm against your skin. You shivered lightly at the feeling, biting your lip as you leaned into her touch.

The team broke into laughter, but Leah didn’t care. Her attention was solely on you, her eyes filled with affection as she watched you chat easily with the girls. Even after a tough match, you were the most beautiful thing in the room, and Leah’s heart swelled every time she looked at you.

As the dinner went on, the teasing continued. Between sips of wine and mouthfuls of food, the team couldn’t resist throwing more playful jabs Leah’s way.

“So, Leah,” Beth started, her voice laced with amusement, “how many handbags have you bought her this week? We reckon it’s at least three.”

Leah smirked, her fingers idly playing with the ends of your hair. “Only two,” she responded nonchalantly. “Had to hold back a bit this time.”

Katie let out a loud laugh, nearly choking on her drink. “Hold back? Are you hearing yourself?”

You giggled, leaning into Leah’s side as her arm tightened around you. “She’s just generous,” you said with a grin, flashing Leah a look that made her stomach flip.

“Generous,” Lotte echoed from further down the table, shaking her head. “More like she’s whipped.”

Leah huffed playfully, pulling you even closer so your legs pressed against hers under the table. “You lot are just jealous you don’t have someone as gorgeous to spoil.”

Caitlin raised her drink. “Touché.”

Leah’s hand slid a little lower on your waist, her fingers brushing just under the hem of your shirt, her touch making your skin tingle. You turned your head to give her a knowing smile, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You really don’t mind, do you?”

Leah’s eyes darkened just slightly, her gaze flicking to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Not one bit, princess.”

---

A few days later, Leah had invited some of the girls over for a chill night at her place—Beth, Katie, and Lotte were sprawled across the couch and chairs, beers in hand as they chatted casually about the latest matches, the conversation flowing easily. Leah was mid-sentence, explaining some tactical breakdown from the last game, when you suddenly strolled into the room, your voice lilting with that teasing tone you always used when you wanted something.

“Leahhhh…” you called sweetly, padding barefoot across the living room in one of her oversized hoodies. Leah immediately looked up, her heart fluttering at the sight of you. “There’s this new Victoria’s Secret collection that just dropped,” you continued, drawing out your words as you made your way over to where she sat. “And you know how much you love it on me.”

Leah barely blinked, already reaching for her wallet. Without even thinking twice, she pulled out her card and handed it to you, her mind clearly still half-absorbed in the football conversation. “Sure, princess. Get whatever you want,” she said casually, not missing a beat.

You grinned, taking the card with a cheeky kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, babe,” you purred, already planning your shopping spree as you turned and left the room, your hips swaying just a little more than usual as you walked away.

The second you were out of earshot, the room fell into a stunned silence before erupting into laughter.

“No way!” Katie gasped, her Irish accent thick as she clutched her side, barely able to contain herself. “Leah, you didn’t even blink! You just handed her the card like it was nothin’!”

Beth was wiping tears from her eyes as she shook her head. “Mate, you didn’t even ask what it was for. She’s got you wrapped, doesn’t she?”

Leah shrugged, leaning back on the sofa with a lazy grin. “What can I say? She looks incredible in everything she wears—especially Victoria’s Secret. It’s a win-win for me.”

Lotte leaned forward, her brows raised in mock disbelief. “You serious? You didn’t even think about it.”

Leah smirked, completely unbothered by their ribbing. “Don’t need to. She can have whatever she wants.”

Katie groaned, tossing a cushion at Leah. “You’re bloody hopeless. Whipped doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Leah caught the cushion and threw it back, shaking her head with a grin. “Yeah, well, if you had someone like her, you’d be the same.”

Beth grinned, leaning back in her chair. “Fair play. But seriously, Leah, you’re like a bloody ATM at this point.”

Leah just shrugged, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not about the money. I want her to feel special. She deserves it.”

Just then, you reappeared, walking back into the living room with a satisfied grin as you handed Leah her card. “You’re the best, babe.”

Leah smirked, sliding the card back into her wallet before grabbing your hand and pulling you down to sit on her lap. Her arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as she nuzzled into your neck, teasingly repeatedly shifting yourself to ‘get comfortable’.

“Jesus Christ, can you two get a room?” Katie groaned, taking a long sip of her beer as she watched the two of you. “This is getting out of hand.”

Leah just chuckled, her lips brushing against your jaw. “We might just do that later,” she murmured lowly, her voice soft but with enough edge to make your skin tingle.

Beth groaned, throwing her hands up. “And here we go again.”

You laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Leah’s cheek before turning to Beth with a cheeky smile. “I told you—it’s the Victoria’s Secret effect.”

The girls erupted into laughter again, but Leah’s grip on you tightened slightly, her fingers brushing the hem of your hoodie. “Can’t say I mind,” she murmured into your ear, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

You turned, your breath warm against her skin as you whispered back, “I know you don’t, babe.”

Leah’s eyes darkened slightly, her thumb brushing against your bare skin under the hoodie. “I’ll show you just how much later.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you bit your lip, the playful glint in her eyes sending a shiver down your spine. But before you could respond, Lotte interrupted with a dramatic groan.

“Alright, alright, enough with the flirting,” Lotte said, rolling her eyes playfully. “Save it for when we’re not here.”

You and Leah exchanged a look, both of you grinning before turning your attention back to the group. The night continued, filled with laughter, teasing, and the easy banter that only comes from close friends. But even as the conversation flowed, Leah’s hand stayed glued to your waist, her fingers gently tracing patterns against your skin.

And though her teammates teased her relentlessly, Leah wouldn’t have it any other way. You were her princess, her everything, and she’d spoil you for the rest of her life if it meant keeping that smile on your face.

[aamiaajewelry]

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[redwinterroses]

It's not like it's hard to get Tango taking about Decked Out, but buy him a couple of potions in the museum speakeasy and he gets downright confessional.

Grian leans across the stat poker table, his wings rustling eagerly. "Truth or dare, Tango," he says. "Is Decked Out... alive?"

“Aren’t I supposed to pick truth or dare before you ask the question?” Tango tosses back another potion and gives the group a half-smirk.

“We all know you’re going to pick truth because you’re too particled to get up.” Etho’s face is obscured, but they can hear the laugh in his voice and see his fox ears twitch with amusement. “So spill.”

Tango shrugs. "Well," he says, "It's not exactly not NOT alive, if you know what I mean."

Grian glances at Doc on his right and Etho on his left. They shrug at him.

"Yeah, no," he says, looking back at Tango. "I don't think we know what that means."

"Is it like that Grumbot robot that Mumbo and Grian built?" Doc asks, scratching thoughtfully at his chin, his blunt black claws scritching loudly against the stubble of his beard. Grian tries to catch a peek at his stat tokens and gives a sheepish grin when Doc notices and quickly angles them away.

"Hey, now," Doc starts to say, but Tango interrupts.

"Nah, no -- I mean, Grumbot was pretty... Simple. No offense."

"None taken." Grian pulls a token from his stack. "Number of villagers traded with," he offers. "And I'll up the ante to three diamond blocks, gentlemen."

Tango lays down his own token, and taps a finger on it in an aimless rhythm. “The dungeon is… aware,” he says. “Not alive, I guess, but it knows things. It recognizes people.”

“I’ve noticed,” Etho says dryly. “That place hates me.”

They all laugh, but Tango shakes his head. “Does it hate you?” he asks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Or does it want to impress you?”

“Oh, I’m impressed enough.” Etho drops his stat token on the table with a soft click. “So it can stop glitching and trying to kill me now.”

“Aww, you’re just playing hard to get.”

Doc lays his tokens down on the table and stands. “I will sit out this round, I think,” he says. “I have done almost nothing with villagers this season. Will anyone have more to drink?”

“I’m not playing hard to get!” Etho protested, ears lying flat. “If anything, I’m playing easy to get – I just walk right in there!”

“You heard it first here, folks,” Tango says. “Etho’s easy.”

He ducks, but not in time to dodge the rolled-up napkin Etho chucks at his face. It lands in his hair and goes up in a miniature whump of flame.

Grian snickers, waving away smoke.

“So if the dungeon’s not alive, but it’s not quite not alive,” he says. “How does one maybe go about… making friends with it?”

“That,” Doc says, thunking a fresh bottle of Cub’s custom-mixed potion onto the table. “Is cheating, you pesky bird. No flirting with the possibly-not-not-alive dungeon.”

“You’re telling me you’re above flirting for a few extra keys and crowns, Doc?” Tango asks with teasing skepticism.

Doc sniffs, flipping the cork from his bottle with his thumb. “I don’t need flirting,” he says dismissively. “I have skills. Game strategies, man.”

“He’s already planning how to get the dungeon’s attention.” Etho flips his token over, exposing the total. “Aren’t’cha, Doc.”

Doc tips back his drink and shrugged. “Eh… that is for me to know, and you to worry about.” He winks.

“Tango, what’s your total there?” Grian fiddles with his token.

“Well, I know it’s higher than old three-digit Minecraft master over here.” Tango holds up his token and pinches it between his fingers. “Under three hundred, Etho? What’ve you been doing all season?”

“Not hiding out in a hole for thirteen months,” Etho grumbles good-naturedly, pushing his diamonds into the center of the table.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I have been doing and look at that stat.” Tango displays the count. “Seven k, baby – read ‘em and weep.”

Grian makes an exaggerated sad face that immediately morphs into a triumphant grin. “Rookie numbers, fellas,” he crows. “Try over twelve thousand.”

Tango groans and rolls his diamonds toward Grian with a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “Definitely not telling you how to flimflam my dungeon, you shyster.”

“Tango, I’m hurt.” Grian, entirely unbothered and very un-hurt looking, scoops the pile of diamonds into his pouch. “My stats are all ethically earned.”

“And that’s how your dungeon runs will be too.” Tango stashes his tokens and stands. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Mostly.”

“Back to your cave, Tango?” Etho doesn’t stand, but his bushy white tail wags a little in barely-contained excitement. “So, Decked Out will be open again… soon?”

“You bet your foxy good looks,” Tango says. “Or… maybe don’t. Not with those stats.”

This time he does duck the thrown napkin.

He exits through the museum, the laughter of his friends fading behind him as he steps out into the cool afternoon air. For a moment, he stretches, shaking out his elytra and clearing his head a bit of the potion particles.

Is Decked Out alive?

Tango grins, sharp teeth glinting. Of course the dungeon’s alive, who’s he kidding? And she’s hungry, too, he can feel it even from here. His friends should just be grateful he’s only ever built friendly monsters that want to devour them.

“On my way,” he mutters to himself. Or the dungeon. “And Etho’ll be coming over soon too.”

He feels the dungeon’s excitement.

“Oh…you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tango launches himself in the air and spirals over the shopping district, angling toward Decked Out and laughing so loudly the sound bounces off the buildings below.

His dungeon totally has a crush on Etho.

[jobean12-blog]

Let Me

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader (Mafia/Mob AU)

Word Count: 1,191

Author's Note: I can't get enough of super softie Mob!Bucky and I was thinking about how after a shit awful day it would be so lovely to come home to him and of course he prioritizes you above all else. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: softness and fluff and sweetness and love and a bad day but Bucky fixes everything!

I picture him with the long hair/bun and beefiness and looking classy and amazing but not to flashy! You know- just right for someone as powerful as him 🫠

You walk in the door, dropping your bag to the floor and toeing off your shoes so fast they bounce off the wall. With a slight wince your shoulders jump before you deflate and drag yourself toward the kitchen.

A comforting aroma fills the hallway the closer you get and you start to hear the clinking and clanging of pots and pans.

You were expecting to come home to an empty apartment.

“Bucky?” you ask quietly as you round the corner.

He looks up from the stove, his smile faltering when he sees the look on your face. He rushes toward you with his arms outstretched and open.

Your eyes well with tears and you launch yourself into his embrace, burying your face against his bare skin and taking a deep breath.

“You’re home,” you mumble.

“’Course I am doll,” he states. “You sounded terrible on the phone so I wanted to be here when you got back.”

“But…” you sniffle. “You said you had a very important meeting tonight…”

“Steve can handle it for now,” he murmurs and kisses the top of your head, “you’re more important.”

You tighten your grip and look up, resting your chin on his chest. “Thank you.”

He dips his head, the light brush of his lips making your eyelashes flutter closed.

Without a word he leads you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. He stops in front of his closet and shuffles through his folded tee shirts. After pulling one out he moves to your dresser and gets a pair of your most comfortable cotton panties and a fuzzy pair of socks.

Then he sits on the edge of the bed and crooks you over with his finger, positioning your body between his spread thighs. He starts to unbutton your blouse; his movements deliberate and slow. Once he has all the buttons undone he carefully slips the silk from your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

“Want to tell me about it baby doll?” he asks softly before running his fingers along your collarbone.

He gently grabs your chin and brings your eyes down to his, then brushes his thumb across your lips.

“It was just awful,” you blurt out, leaning into his touch.

Your fingers trace his jaw, falling lower until they meet his necklace. You toy with the gold, dancing your fingers along the outline and over his chest.

As you ramble on about the shit day you had he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, delicately letting it fall forward until your free of the constricting lace. You sigh in relief but shiver at the chill of air against your bare skin.

“Absolutely stunning,” he murmurs as his eyes sweep over your skin.

He grabs your hips and pulls you closer, placing soft kisses along the swell of your breasts.

You sigh contentedly and rest your hands on his shoulders.

He reaches for his tee shirt. “Arms up,” he instructs and you lift them.

When he has his shirt secured over your arms he lets it fall down your body and you’re instantly surrounded by soft warmth and his soothing scent.

“And then I lost one of my diamond earrings,” you continue, sniffling between every other word.

He listens intently while he changes your clothes, removing your skirt next and then your stockings.

“Aw baby doll. But it’s ok, I’ll buy you another pair,” he assures you.

He takes your hand in his and ghosts his lips across your knuckles.

When he gets to your shoes he lifts your foot into his lap and unstraps your heel. Before he sets your foot down again he gives it a little massage, making your groan as you go on with your rant.

“But you gave those to me on our honeymoon in Greece. It was such a special moment and…”

He looks up at you lovingly as he hooks his thumbs into your lace panties and tugs them down your legs and off your feet. Once he has your cotton pair in his hands he slides them up, adjusting them before pressing his lips to your stomach, his soft butterfly kisses making you giggle.

“And?” he says, waiting for you to finish.

“I would have been heartbroken to lose it but thankfully, I ended up finding it in my bag. It must have fallen out and into there.”

“Good thing,” he says. “I can’t have you heartbroken over anything. And I would have figured out a way to fix it.”

“I know,” you answer.

He takes the fuzzy socks and slides each one on, then stands and tucks you under his arm.

“I like when you help me get dressed,” you tell him.

“As much as you like when I undress you?” he simpers, throwing you a playful wink.

“No way, that’s my favorite.”

“Mine too,” he croons with a sweet kiss as he leads you to the living room.

“Wait here,” he says, “and then you can tell me about the rest of the day.”

You nod and watch him leave then lift the collar of his tee shirt to sniff it.

“Smell good?” he muses as he walks back in with a plate of food.

You smile sweetly. “Almost as good as you.”

He sits on the couch with a smirk and pats his thigh. “Come ‘ere doll.”

You shift and move into his lap, resting against his chest.

“So finish telling me what happened,” he gently prods as he picks up the fork of food and lifts it to your lips. “But make sure you chew first.”

You take the bite and moan around the delicious taste, chewing well before you let the rest of your problems out. With each bite he waits patiently for you to talk and chew and all the while you mindlessly fiddle with his wedding ring, twirling it around his finger.

“I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” you say, opening up for another bite of food.

“Did you eat anything after we had breakfast this morning?” he asks pointedly.

You drop your chin. “No.”

“Doll face,” he admonishes. “You have to eat throughout the day!”

“I was busy and it was such a shitty day,” you whine, trying to defend yourself even though you know he’s right.

“I know,” he coos softly, placing the plate down and grabbing dessert. “But promise me you’ll be more careful.”

“I promise,” you tell him, sealing it with a kiss.

Once the dessert plate is clean and you’re licking your lips for the last drops of deliciousness, he puts down the plate and then pulls his hair tie free, releasing his bun so his hair falls loosely at his shoulders. You grab the tie and slip it over his wrist with a smile.

He lays down on the couch, taking you with him until your cocooned in his arms.

“Want to watch something?” he asks as his hands reverently wander over your skin.

“Can we just cuddle for now?”

You nuzzle his neck, softly running your nose along the strong muscles before placing a soft kiss to his scruffy jaw.

“Anything you want doll.”

@book-dragon-13 @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @sebstanwhore @hallecarey1 @kmc1989 @goldylions

[killmeprettypleasee]

𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓒𝓵𝓾𝓫𝓼

✁___________________________________

Warning: Loving sex, nipple play, Stripper reader, age gap! Reader is 23 price is mentioned to be around his late 30's.

It was a normal work shift at the strip club, you were at the back getting ready for your show while your other colleagues were keeping their clients busy.

Only 5 minutes left before your show starts... You wore light and natural make up aswell as a revealing bunny suit with a big diamond opening at the back and a small one by your tummy, white thigh high stockings matched to the outfit.

You looked in the mirror to see your wear and it looks so cute, the fluffy ear bounced at the top of your head as you turned around to get a better look of yourself.

You then got out of your studio and went on the stage, where men and women glanced at you, they were in awe to what they saw.

Especially the man with a bucket hat.

As you began to dance, you body gracefully moved while you pole danced, all eyes are captivated by the mix of your cuteness and sexyness.

The music played was a slowly beat, matching your movements as you danced.

Then a crowed began to throw money on the stsge, showing how entertained they are to have you danced on the said stage.

While looking in the crowed you saw a poor looking old man man maybe around his late 30's with a bucket, drinking whiskey while watching you, he noticed that your eyes were on him and gave you a flirty wink causing you to turn away in embarrassment..

The old man was attractive, yeah? He's really attractive.. you never knew you were into old men before.. but damn...

----------------

After your show, you were back at your studio to rest until someone knocked on your door, you opened it and saw it wad your manager.

"you're free right now, kid?.."

He spoke out, he looks clearly in a hurry.

"why's that Daniel?"

You replied.

"You goy a bew client and he seemed to want you now?.. he literally payed a fortune for you there"

Daniel shot you a smirk.

It shocked you that someone would really pay alot just to have you..

"how much?"

"Around 10k"

Your jaw dropped when you heard that, normally people would pay around 300-500 each round but damn! You thought you're gonna faint at the amount.. but you were also curious on who this man was.

"Lets go.. we should not keep him waiting."

"Y-yeh.. okay?.."

----------------

After changing-- you are now wearing a pair of cropped tops and shorts that has an opening to your ass.

You followed Daniel to the back, and opened a room to see the same man tha winked at you during your performance..

"Ive been waiting pretty boy..~"

The man spoke out and called you to walk in, you already done this before but you felt so shy around him, there's totally something about him that makes you weak to your knees.. and you couldn't quite identify it.

You walked up to him and.sat on his lap, you could feel his hard on press against your thigh.. you could tell how bug it was.. then soon he pulled you closer to him grind his hardon against your thigh, making you let out soft moans.

"Call me Price, I'd love it when you scream my name, sweetheart"

He spoked out, kissing your forehead lovingly.

His movements we're so loving and gently, you couldn't help but whimpered softly.

Slowly his hands spread your trembling legs as his finger's played with your tight ass hole, You moan against him, clinging close to him.

"Such a pretty boy hm?.. you feel so tight.."

Price chuckled softly as he fingered you, feeling how tight you'd gotten.

Then he laid you down on the bed, lifting your cropped tops up and began to play with your nipples.

To Price, The sight was so cute! Having you beneath him and being all cute and submissive for him.. he knew the moment both of you locked eyes, he knew the he had to have you.

Soon his lips wrapped around one of your nipple and began to suckle on it making you whine out softly.

Then Price took out his cock, stroking while pre cum slowly began to drip down his base,and slowly pushed in.

"A-ah.. s-so big"

You whined out, letting out soft sobs of pleasure.

He let you adjust to his size around a minute and when he felt you loosing up he began to gently and carefully thrust into you.

The way he did it was so gentle and almost so loving.

Praises slip down his lips as he thrust into your warm core, he felt like he was in heaven having to be inside of you.

It was the perfect feeling to be inside a cute boy like you.

His fingers kept on groping your skin, making sure you were really really as his thrust began to slowly increase.

His lips got back, wrapping up around  your puffy nipples as this action made you feel so blished out.

Having some man use you was the norm, but this was different..

"Such a good boy aye?.. be a good boy for me baby boy.."

Price grunted.

"N-ngh.. a-hah! G-gonna cum.. P-price.. f-fuh.. fuck--"

You whimpered submissively as you clung unto his broad shoulders as you legs began to tremble.

Price's gips pistoned abit faster as he whispered little praises of encouragement in your ear as his lips kissed a trail on your neck oh so lovingly.

Finally he slammed his hips into you both cumming at the same time, his lips soon met with yours in a loving kiss, you kissed back.

You felt so loved for once doing your job, other's treated you like the cheap whore you are but this man? Price?.. oh god you felt like you don't wanna leave him..

"Fuck.. my little price looks so cute, just wanna have you all to myself my cute boy.."

Price chuckled, holding you close in his embrace, you cuddled up close against him.. breath getting heavy as you cuddled up against his form.

"P-please.. im yours please"

You begged softly, wanting to stay with him so badly making him let out a soft laugh.

"Dont worry.. I'll keep you and make you feel the love you deserve pretty boy.."

----------------

After that encounter Price became you regular, always wanting to be with you, sometimes he paid just to make love with you and sometimes just to cuddle up with you on bed and do nothing but feel each others embrace.

You end up quitting your job and went on to have a date with your new boyfriend, he would spoil you all the time and even pamper you like a baby, he just thinks your so damn cute!!.

He so happy he have you now.. he felt so blessed winning your heart, now that you're his, he only wished to love you and to be loved back by you, he woukd never love another because he has you in his life now.

✁___________________________________

A/n: I just noticed military captains get paid alot! So yeh... And ive been craving for loving sex lately with older men 😞

[hazbinshusk]

husk x afab/fem!reader. inspired by this conversation with the lovely @irkimatsu and an ask from @marcieadoresu. husk finds you laying on his bed and wearing his boxers. and so ensues 1.3k words of a scent-obsessed dirty old man ❤

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Husk sighs heavily as he finally reaches the door to his room in the hotel, tucked away at the far end of an out of the way hall on the second floor. He runs a hand over his face, but a ghost of a smile overtakes his exhaustion as he notices the soft glow emanating from beneath the door. He opens it quietly, that soft smile staying in place as he removes his hat and enters the room.

“I’m sorry I’m so late, doll, new residents got no sense of—” he stops, his ears flicking forward in interest. “What’re you wearin’?”

You’re sprawled out in the middle of his bed, laying on your stomach with a book open in front of you. The welcoming smile on your face morphs into something more sheepish as he takes in the sight of you dressed in a tank top and a pair of his boxers. You shrug a shoulder, closing the book. “Sorry; all my pajamas are in the wash, and I… you’ve got plenty of these, so I didn’t think… you don’t mind, do you?”

Husk shakes his head slowly, untying his bowtie and pulling it off of his neck. He drops it on top of the bureau as he passes, his eyes never leaving your body as he rounds to stand behind you. There’s something almost predatory in the way he walks even while that curiosity and surprise still register on his features, and the first tendrils of excitement curl inside you.

“Husk?”

“They look good on you,” he tells you, and you squeak in surprise as you feel him take hold of your hips and tug you back towards the edge of the bed. You feel him run his claws over the silky fabric, the diamonds and hearts patterned across your backside. He leans down as he pulls you up onto your knees, and you tense as you feel him, hear him take a long, savoring inhale, his nose pressed right below the waistband. “Fuck…”

Your fingers curl in the sheets beneath you, your face flushing crimson as Husk breathes in and relishes the way your scent has mingled with his, the lingering musk of his own body mixing with the warmer, headier scent of yours… it’s intoxicating, addictive, and Husk can feel himself harden as his hands smooth up and down your thighs.

“Husk, baby, are you—OH—!” your head falls forward, eyes widening in surprise as Husk suddenly buries his face between your thighs, running his tongue over the fabric covering your cunt. Even with the silk in the way the texture of his tongue is torture against your clit, and you squeeze your eyes closed, your breathing suddenly heavy. Husk groans deeply as he steadily soaks the shorts with his saliva and your arousal, claws flexing on your thighs as he continues lapping at your clothed sex with fervor. When he begins to purr, your eyes roll back. “Jesus Christ, Husk…”

Usually, this kind of reaction from you would earn a self-satisfied chuckle from him but he just moans quietly, forcing your legs further apart as he presses his face as close as possible to your scent, to your taste. The position he has you in has drawn the silk tight across your ass, and you feel the fabric tear as Husk clutches at your ass, splitting down the seam.

Husk barely registers the tear other than to move his attention higher with an almost feverish growl, and you jerk forward as his tongue meets your asshole.

“No, no, no, no, baby…” he mutters against your skin, tugging you back against his mouth by wrapping his arms around your thighs. One hand reaches around to your cunt, one claw expertly tearing the shorts open further for better access to your clit. “Don’t go…”

“Goddamn it, Husk,” you reply and this time he does chuckle, drunk on the taste of you, on the scent. And as far as he’s concerned it’s better than any of the booze he’s ever forced down his throat. You shudder under his ministrations, bracing yourself on your elbows, one hand clutching at your hair as you exhale a moan.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he rumbles, dipping back down to taste your clit once more before pulling away, replacing his tongue with his hand. You grind your hips down against his palm as you hear the sound of his pants being unfastened, and your eyes widen as you feel him slowly press the head of his cock into your pussy. “Just gorgeous…”

“Fuck…”

The two of you moan the word in a whispered tandem as Husk slides his cock slowly into you, his hands once more on your hips. He rocks you back into him as he thrusts forward in a gentle rhythm, savoring the way every inch of him feels as it glides into the warm wetness of you, of the brief tickle of torn silk against his shaft as he slides himself in and out of you.

You arch your back as Husk angles his hips and you keen as the head of his cock brushes against that spot inside you that brings stars into your vision. His claws slip under your tank top and they make you shiver, and when you cum you feel him press lips against your spine, his breath fanning over your back.

“Don’t stop, darlin’,” he says roughly, groaning deeply as you push yourself back to meet his hips, fucking yourself onto his cock steadily. He curses, purrs and murmurs your name with what you could swear is reverence. You can tell from the way his hips move to meet yours more sharply that he’s closer, teetering on the precipice of release. “Fuck, you’re a good girl…”

“Thank you, baby,” you breathe and Husk’s moan catches in his throat. His claws dig into your hip, your thigh.

“Say it again.” he orders gruffly and in your haze it takes you a moment to register what he wants from you. What he needs. “Say it, doll.”

“Thank you,” you whimper, grinding back against his cock just as he thrusts particularly deep into you. He chokes on a groan, letting out a drawn out, heavy breath that rolls through him and makes you quiver. “Thank you, Husk.”

“Again.” he urges, and you’re both so close your bodies are quaking against each other, yours threatening to collapse on the bed. “Again, baby, please…”

You smile dazedly, fingers tightening white-knuckled on the sheets. “Thank you for— fuck— fucking me so good, Husk…”

Your partner moans your name as he cums, bottomed out inside you. You do collapse now, your face meeting the sheets as Husk folds himself over you with a sigh, chuckling drunkenly against your back as he feels you clench around him. You cum in shuddering, overwhelming waves, trapped by his body on top of yours and the hand he snakes around you to torture your clit.

He doesn’t stop until you beg for it, withdrawing from your dripping pussy and rolling off of you. His back meets the mattress and he huffs out a breathless, delirious laugh, smoothing his hand over your back until his claws are lingering on the waistband of the now-ruined boxers. He leans over to capture your mouth in a kiss and you hum happily into it. The purr rumbling through him has softened but still fills you with a light-headed warmth.

“I think…” you murmur against his lips with a smile. “You’ve ruined your boxers.”

Husk chuckles again, letting his head fall back against the sheets. “I’ve got more. And for the record, darlin’, you can borrow them any damn time you want.”

[j-jinxee]

Could I request a fic with nijiro or chishiya where reader uses a sex toy or toys on him to make him beg. I love the idea of them being whiny.

[ ⟡​ ] — MAKE ME LOSE,,

NSFW under the cut! ⊹ Chishiya x Reader

[warnings - nsfw, sex toys, begging, public(?), swearing]

A/N - tysm for the request!! hehe I loveee this :3 don't ask me how they got access to sex toys and stuff in the borderland since there's no like, electronic devices kind of yk? Just go w it hehe —★

─────

Chishiya's poker face was one to admire. He had incredible control over his emotions showing, not cracking for anyone or anything. It interested you, his whole demeanour was something no one else at the beach even came close to. The beach influenced everyone to be incredibly care free, dropping their guards and just having a good time, but of course, not Chishiya. Chishiya still kept that same unamused yet intrigued look on his face, he was so peculiar.

Fast forward a few games, you and Chishiya got pretty close. He found you weren't annoying like most at the beach, the way you spoke didn't irritate him at all, plus it was fun having someone around who was actually a challenge. The games got pretty boring after a while, sure you'd get hurt sometimes, but they eventually all got so easy. So you and Chishiya would start placing bets just to spice it up a bit, betting who could get a higher score, who got hurt the least, who predicted which players would die, you know? It was your guys' way of attempting to enjoy the games.

However this type of bet came as a surprise.

"You're so full of it! You would not be able to keep it together!" You exclaimed to Chishiya.

"Trust me I could, it wouldn't be that hard."

"Alright then, let's bet on it." You said with a smile.

His face slightly dropped, you finally got to him. You know he wouldn't be able to keep it together, let alone survive a full game. He'd be too sensitive to focus, because you'd be watching from afar, in full control of a pretty little cock ring he's wearing, vibrations running through his core as he tries not to falter.

Fuck the idea was so hot, and it'd soon be a reality thanks to your betting games. You knew from a friend of a friend that the beach wasn't too far from an adult store, how convenient. Before the next game, you'd taken a little trekk to the store, sure it was creepy and abandoned like everything else in the city, but it still looked relatively clean. Making your "purchase" of the toy, you began your way back to the beach, Chishiya's next game was tonight, so he was just praying it wouldn't be anything in the spades category.

Much to his luck — it was a diamonds game. Fuck, he might actually win.

You two had discussed the "rules" earlier, you'd be in an undisclosed location somewhere near the game arena. You'd also have an ear piece in so you could hear all his pretty little noises, but he'd have to focus completely on the game, no communication was allowed on his end.

He'd win if his poker face stayed strong, basically if no one caught on or asked him about it. He also wasn't allowed to cum, poor baby. However, if you won — he'd have to keep it on all night, all the way back to the beach, in his own bed, everything.

It was some sort of numbers game (think like the king of diamonds except not that serious). There was a screen with numbers 0-100, and a math formula that went along with it. You honestly didn't pay much attention, you weren't playing and were just here to make sure Chishiya doesn't cheat. It was more than likely Chishiya knew where you were, he always knew somehow, and right now you may or may not have been pirched on top of the roof, looking in through the high windows. It was night, and you were in full black, no one else would've seen you.

You decided not to touch the remote at all during the first two rounds, hopefully making him feel the suspense. You doubt it would have any real effect on him, but it's fun to imagine.

"Your move Chishiya, what'll it be?" Another player asked.

His lips parted to begin speaking. vrrr vrrr

You smirked as you saw him hesitate, his mouth closing for a split second before going back to his sentence. You had it on the lowest setting, wouldn't want to ruin the fun immediately.

Your mind started to wander as the game went on, thinking back to all the other pretty toys you saw in the shop. Invasive thoughts clouded your mind, beginning to think about using all the other toys on Chishiya — binding his wrists to the headboard with those hand cuffs, watching hot wax run down his bare chest, fuck. You definitely had to go back.

Two players had already had their heads blown off, three remaining including Chishiya. Your thumb dragged along the buttons of the remote, surprising you with the fact it even worked from this distance. Shiya was beginning to get restless, adjusting his posture, looking around randomly, rubbing his eyes, just trying to feel anything else to take his mind off the pleasure, threatening to spill at any second.

"mm-mmh! shit-" he quietly panted, completely unable to focus. The other players shot him suspicious glances, wondering what was happening to him.

"You alright there?" Another player asked, his expression showing signs of disgust, has he caught on?

Chishiya's little whines did sound very suggestive, even if you were completely oblivious to the situation he was in.

"Hm? Oh- yeah, yeah I'm good" Liar.

As the game continued, Chishiya's moves were less and less calculated. If he didn't get it together, he could actually make a fatal mistake. You decided to give him a break, it was the second last round, and you slowly turned it all the day down to the lowest setting. You could see sweat start to form on his forehead, quickly being wiped away with his sleeve as he proceeded with his move.

Another player was executed, entering the last round. The inconsistent vibrations were starting to make him feel sick, he would've came twice by now if it wasn't for your bet. As he looked back at the screen, his hand went up to select "01" vrrr vrrrrrr

Spiking it up to the highest setting, what else did he expect for the last round? His hand clenched into a fist, his boxers completely soaked in pre, making all the small adjustments feel even better. He resumed selecting the last number, but for some reason changed his answer.

'Player Chishiya selected 00'

He glanced to the only remaining player, giving them a little wave. His expression was horrified, realising he had just lost, and this psycho was- waving him goodbye? Not a second passed before more blood was splattered on the walls, Chishiya had won. Fuck.

You made your way carefully down from the roof, not looking forward to seeing his smug 'I won' face again. You really thought this would break him, sure the other players were suspicious, but they didn't outright ask him about it, you'd lost. However, you were met with something you certainly didn't expect.

Chishiya was barely standing, leaning against the entrance of the game hall with his head angled upwards, bulge very prominent in his pants. Once he heard you approaching, he needed this to end.

"ff-fuck is it over? Please be ove- ah! Does it count? I win right? right?" Holy shit, he was so lost in it. Of course it was over, what was he talking about? He was clearly deluded from all the adrenaline, mixed with pleasure he want allowed to experience, you never thought you'd see him like this.

You decided to play, "I don't know. We could keep going, see if you could last the night, see if anyone at the beach notices."

"Fuckkk- fuck please! No one noticed I- ahhh! I didn't even cum" you still had the ring on full power, getting him closer and closer while he was trying to convince what'd already come true.

"Didn't you? Awh what a good boy. I guess I could let you cum, you've done well enough."

"r-really? Ahh! are you sure? Please end it."

You held his face so gently, attempting to make eye contact as he struggled to keep his open. Calming him with your touch, your other hand slowly went up to stroke him through the wet fabric. "aAH- mmh!"

"I'm sure, you've won. Pretty boy can cum now."

He whined out louder than ever as the most intense orgasm of his life washed over him. Thick ropes of his hot white cum spurted out into his boxers, all his muscles tensing from the pleasure. Nearly collapsing from the pure ecstasy, you turned the small device off and sat down next to him. He was silent for a few minutes before coming back down to earth, his eyes finally opened.

"Fuck, I barely remember the game, or what I was saying. I won again though." He smirked as he looked over at you, there's that smug little cat.

"Yeah, didn't think you had it in you to be honest. So, what's my punishment? Gonna make me eat natto again?" You referred back to the last bet you lost, where he made you eat your least favourite food ever.

The smirk plastered on his face got even wider before he spoke, "no. I thought this time, I'd use your reward against you."

What does he mea- oh.

Before you knew it, you were back at the beach, on Chishiya's bed, wearing a pretty little vibrator that he had control over. Maybe we shouldn't have made that bet.

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 48: A Proper Proposal

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Reader (24)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Please comment and engage it means a lot to me and keeps me motivated 😇

Almost eight weeks later, the evening before Cillian's birthday, and at your new and still somewhat empty house in one of London's suburbs, Cillian did exactly that. He proposed to you, properly and in a traditional sense.

Cillian had it all planned and when you arrived at home after stressful day at work, you were surprised when you saw your living room  fully decorated with candles, flowers, and an elaborate dinner setting.

At the end of the room, right in front of the fireplace, Cillian had prepared a pathway made out of red rose petals, his way of guiding you towards him.

The sight alone took your breath away and you couldn't help but put a hand on your slightly rounding belly as you took it all in.

Walking slowly towards him, you couldn't help but feel your eyes welling up with tears. This was so cliche, but also so God damn beautiful and you knew what was coming next. 

"What on earth is all this?" you giggled, blushing slightly as you looked into Cillian's affectionate gaze.

"Well, you said you wanted a real fucking proposal, so here it is," he chuckled softly, causing you to blush even more. 

"But this is so over the top, Cills," you chuckled yourself, shaking your head at him.

Cillian grinned, "I know. I may have gone a little overboard. But it's worth it, just to see that look on your face," he replied, gesturing to your slightly teary eyes.

You swooned a little as he pulled you towards him and dropped onto one knee, holding a small black box in one of his hands. 

"Y/N, I've loved you since the first moment I saw you standing in my doorway in Dublin. I've known that you've been 'the one' for me almost since then and I can't imagine my life without you.  I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Y/N. I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night. I want to experience all of life's joys and sorrows with you by my side. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

You felt tears streaming down your cheeks as you nodded your head, unable to speak for a moment. Cillian looked up at you with a mixture of hope and love, and when you finally found your voice, it came out in a soft and trembling whisper.

"Yes, Cillian. A thousand times yes."

With those words, a silent cheer exploded within your chest, as your eyes welled up with tears. Cillian's expression immediately softened, and he let out a sigh of relief before carefully opening the black box in his hand. There it was, a pear-shaped princess cut diamond ring with six smaller diamonds on either side. The ring was absolutely stunning, and you couldn't help but gasp as Cillian slipped it onto your finger.

It fit perfectly, like it was meant to be there all along.

"Oh, Cillian, it's beautiful," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion as you looked at him. He smiled up at you, his eyes shining with love and happiness.

"I'm glad you like it," he replied, rising to his feet and pulling you into a warm embrace.

"You make me so happy, Y/N," he whispered against your ear, causing you to shiver with delight.

You hugged him back tightly, feeling like you had finally found your forever home in his arms. "I love you, Cillian," you murmured, your voice tinged with emotion.

He gently leaned back, his hands cradling your face as he looked deeply into your eyes. 

"I love you too,"  he replied, before capturing your lips in a soft and tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with love, hope, and promise for the future.

Cillian then pulled away slightly and looked down on you, marveling at your round belly , smiling lovingly.

"You look more and more beautiful each day," Cillian whispered, leaning down, planting soft kisses on your stomach.

"Stop Cillian. I am still wearing my scrubs," you chuckled, seeing how you had been working all day.

"I know, I should save that for later," he agreed before raising to his feet again and placing a chaste kiss on your forehead, which was as comforting and as loving as any intimate moment shared between the two of you.

Cillian then leaned back, and looked into your eyes affectionately. "Why don't you go have a shower, freshen up while I finish cooking dinner?" he suggested warmly.

You nodded and kissed him lightly on the lips before making your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

Inside the shower, you marveled about how you got here, to this stage of your life, so soon and with a man who was not only significantly older than you but who was also your ex's father.

You were happy, even if the circumstances of your relationship were less than ideal. You and Cillian loved each other deeply, and you were going to spend the rest of your lives together.

And yet, you were worried about how his son Max would take all this. The pregnancy and the engagement would likely be devastating to him and whilst Cillian had many attempts to meet up with him and tell him about the fact that he would become a big brother soon, Max refused to see his father.

As such, you were already thirty weeks along and he did not know yet. But you also knew that time was running out. You knew that, with you showing, he would learn about your pregnancy sooner rather than later and you worried what this might do to him, and to Cillian and his already strained relationship with his son.  Thirty weeks had gone by fast and you could feel your belly growing more and more round each day. It was now obvious for all to see whenever you ventured out in public.

You smiled as you thought of the little life inside you. This was Cillian's and your child, and the thought of finally holding it in your arms excited you.

You knew that Max might not be happy about all of this, but hopefully he would come around eventually.

You hoped that your pregnancy would be the catalyst that would help the father and son reconnect, but deep down you feared the opposite.

You sighed and pushed those thoughts away, focusing instead on the joy that this little one brought into your life. As you finished up your shower and got dressed in a warm, cozy sweater and leggings, you marveled at the fact that you were creating a life within you. A life that would be half Cillian, half yours.

You made your way back downstairs, your nose picking up the scent of freshly cooked pasta.

"Smells delicious," you remarked as you entered the kitchen, your eyes meeting Cillian's warm and affectionate gaze.

He grinned at you and gestured towards the table, which was beautifully set with candles and flowers. "I hope you like it. I made your favorite spaghetti," he said, watching as you took your seat.

You beamed at him, feeling the warmth in your chest spreading throughout your entire body. "This looks amazing," you enthused, your voice filled with excitement. "I've been craving this all day."

Cillian chuckled and took a seat beside you. "I'm glad you like it. I know how much you love carbs these days."

You laughed, your eyes sparkling with mirth. It was true, since you became pregnant, even unknowingly so, all you wanted to eat was pasta, bread and cake. "I can't help it Cills. I am eating for two after all," you  teased as you took a bite of the pasta, your eyes meeting Cillian's as you savored the taste.

Cillian chuckled as he walked past and leaned towards you, kissing your neck lightly as his hand wandered down until it rested on your rounded belly. "I love you, Y/N," he murmured, causing you to sigh in happiness.

You leaned against him, closing your eyes for a moment and feeling the warmth of his love wash over you. It was moments like these that reminded you why you fell in love with Cillian in the first place.

"O love you too, Cills. And I love your cooking!"  you replied, as you continued to eat while Cillian got himself a glass of wine.

Just as you both ate peacefully though there was a knock on the door, and you were curious as to who this may be. You were not expecting anyone but decided to get the door anyway.

"I will get it," you told Cillian who was still finishing his plate at the table.

"Okay," Cillian replied as he took a sip from his wine glass.

You walked towards the door, opening it curiously and standing there was a familiar face.

"Max?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not expecting him at all.

"Hi Y/N," he said dryly. "I just wanted to drop off a birthday present for dad, because I am flying to Dublin tomorrow morning," he told you, not having taken in your appearance just yet. 

"Do you want to come in?" you asked, opening the door a bit further but, just as you did, Max's jaw dropped.

His eyes widened in shock as he took in your appearance, his gaze first landing on your belly and then on your face.

"You're pregnant," he said, his voice barely above a whisper and you nodded nervously, awaiting his reaction. 

"Oh my god you are fucking kidding, right?" he asked, his voice wavering as he seemed to struggle to comprehend the situation.

"Max," you simply stammered, feeling the tension rising in your chest as you faced his confusion, but he quickly shook his head.

Max's eyes went wide, and his mouth opened, but no words seemed to come out. He stood there frozen for a moment, as if waiting for the whole thing to be a huge joke.

"I can't believe this," he spat angrily then as if his trance had been broken , Max's face twisted into a mask of frustration and hurt.

With great difficulty, he moved toward you, his eyes dodging away as he tried to avoid looking too closely at your swollen belly just as Cillian emerged from the kitchen to greet his son. 

"You are a fucking gold digger after all, aren't you?" Max spat out angrily, causing you to recoil at the harshness of his words.

Cillian, who had just entered the room, froze in his tracks at the sight of his son standing in front of you. "Max, that's enough. You are out of line," Cillian said, his voice filled with anger and hurt. His eyes locked onto Max's, and you could feel the tension radiating between them.

"I am out of line dad? Seriously?" Max countered. "You are the one who knocked up my ex, and she probably fucking planned it too, but you are too blind to see it," he  continued, his voice filled with anger and resentment towards both Cillian and yourself.

Cillian's eyes narrowed, and his whole body tensed up as he took a step closer to his son. "I said, that's enough and I need you to leave if you can't calm down," Cillian snapped back, his Irish accent stronger than ever when he was angry.

"Hell yeah I am leaving. This is fucking disgusting. The both of you. I mean honestly. You both should be ashamed of yourself,"  Max finished, sneering at the two of you.

His words were like a punch to the gut, and you could feel tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to find the right words to say in response.

But Cillian beat you to it. "Get out of my house, Max," he growled, his voice low and full of anger. "We'll continue this conversation when you've calmed down and are ready to have a proper discussion." Max scoffed, but didn't say another word.

He simply turned around, leaving the room without so much as another glance at either of you. You could hear the door slamming shut behind him as he left the house, leaving you and Cillian in stunned silence.

Tags:

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@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

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[ivystoryweaver]

hi ivy!!!!

congratulations on the anniversary, I think you’re doing amazing and I’m really impressed with the frequency at which you put out stories

Could you please write me some thing super soft with Santi? That’s my baby. Maybe something smut but loving and communication, ys know, LaL style

love you

When You Come Back Home

"But on really good days, you get a picture of him."

Awww hey bb, you are so sweet. ILY! The muse has been kind lately - you know it ebbs and flows, so it's always nice to catch up. (Until I went on vacation, that is)

Yes ofc Santi is your baby, I'm so honored you trust me to write something soft, especially mentioning the amazing LAL! Leather and Lace is sooo good and you're a genius at world building.

Word Count: 3.9k

Santiago x f!reader, fluff, married life, flirting, dirty talk, lingerie, oral, fingering, p in v, language, absolute smitten husband!Santiago

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Gazing listlessly out the window, you idly pass your off day, waiting for word from your husband. Despite the ease electronic communication provides you, Santiago writes you letters, and sends polaroids. It may be the thing you love about him most - he wants you to have something tangible when he's not there to hold you, kiss you and gaze into your eyes.

Your collection of polaroids covers the side of the fridge, top to bottom, the bulletin board behind your bedroom door, you have a few on the bathroom mirror and even a couple in your car. Most of them tell the story, through scenery, of each and every place he's visited or worked.

But on really good days, you get a picture of him.

Santiago practically vibrates with energy - always on the move, ready for a mission or an adventure. When he's home, he inevitably takes on a project, hosts an entertaining barbecue, whisks you away to a special trip, and his stamina is no less vigorous when he gets you alone, between the sheets.

The mail truck rumbles around the corner onto your street, nudging you out of idleness. You rise to your feet, ready to collect the mail the moment the truck pulls up to the next driveway. Your bare feet hit the sizzling Florida pavement, hurrying you toward your destination.

But there is no letter, not today.

Slightly deflated, you rush back inside, grateful as the air conditioning kisses your skin. That's the thing about snail mail: it's unpredictable, which makes receiving it such a delight. Oh well, at least you'll be able to see your husband's face later when he calls.

Shuffling to the kitchen, you pour yourself some fruit infused water, rolling your eyes at how quickly the Florida heat can parch your throat.

Then you hear the front door open. The voice of your husband almost makes you drop your glass.

"Oh my god, Santi!" You screech, rounding the corner and flying into his waiting arms.

"Heyyy, mi cielo," he breathes against your ear as he holds you close. He's not a tall man, but he's a solid wall of strength - his forearms flexing along the curve of your back as he molds your body to his.

"How...are you here?" You gasp, sinking your fingers into the thickness of his salt and pepper curls.

"Home early," he states the obvious. "Missed you too much." His mouth chases after yours, tasting your soft lips one at a time. The heat of his breath melts you in his embrace, and it occurs to you that this experience far surpasses a new Polaroid.

"Let me take you out tonight, bebécita," he hums against your mouth between kisses. "Got you something pretty to wear."

You assume he's brought you a dress, but it's something much more...shiny.

"Don't ask me where it came from. I don't think you want to know," he cryptically warns, earthy eyes sparkling with a playful glimmer.

"Please tell me there were no drug lords involved," you half joke as he fastens a gorgeous diamond bracelet around your wrist. "Florida is way too close to all that shit."

"No drug lords. I promise." He grins, kissing your mouth for good measure.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Music pulses, colorful lights flash - the tang of alcohol fills the air. Santiago's hips move expertly to a familiar tune, the Spanish lyrics energizing the delicious Bachata he leads. You gladly follow, feeling success as a dancer, simply by matching his movement and energy.

Spinning you a few extra times to show you off, Santi grins as you laugh delightedly. You tend to recharge with alone time, but your husband needs this - friends, fun and some sort of action. You gladly give it to him, knowing that when he gets you home, you will have him all to yourself for days on end, with no one to disrupt your bubble.

“Mi cielo," he cinches you tightly against him, the shift of his hips pulsing against yours, urging you to drag him by the collar to a dark corner. "Ready to go?"

You know he's not ready. But he checks in with you, just to be sure, to give you an out.

"Already tired after one dance, Garcia?" You tease, syncing the movement of his body with your own, the motion honestly a tad scandalous for the dance floor. "Thought you wanted to show me off tonight. Me and this mysterious bracelet."

He smiles brightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight as he dips you and finishes the song with a flourish - trumpets wailing as the bongos boom out a fantastic finale.

"They're good," you huff out breathlessly, motioning toward the live band on the stage.

He nods, leading you by the hand toward the bar as the band eases into the next dance - a merengue.

The night goes on this way, with a generous amount of alcohol, a group of your best friends and a few sensational slow dances that have you desperate to get him alone.

During one particularly smooth Rumba, he kisses a trail down the side of your neck, the tequila lowering his inhibitions to a scandalous level. "Ready now, Señora Garcia?" He smoothly husks, working his lips over yours and stealing your breath as his hips once again swirl into yours.

"Si, mi amor," you gush back to him, noticing the sparkle of your bracelet as he leads you outside by the hand.

A ride share carries you safely home, but Santi's long, dextrous fingers have already temptingly edged under the hem of your shirt, anxious for the caress you both crave.

"Behave yourself," you teasingly admonish, swatting his hand away even as he nibbles on your neck, his breath ghosting your skin.

"Can't wait to get you out of this and underneath me," he rumbles on your ear, linking his fingers with yours, simply because there is nowhere else he can put them without earning another stare from the rearview mirror.

"Hey," you whisper, returning the favor by breathing hotly, making him shiver with want. "What makes you think I won't be on top?"

He growls, gripping your chin with his free hand and opening his mouth over yours - the heat of his tongue setting you on fire. You forget, for a few heavenly moments, that you're in the car with a complete stranger.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Stumbling through the front door like teenagers, your husband can't help but manhandle you, shutting the door dramatically before pushing you up against it - his strong hands gripping your hips as he touches his forehead to yours.

"How uncomfortable did we make that driver?" He jokes between lingering kisses to your lips.

"Don't worry, I gave him a good tip," You remind him, locking your wrists behind his neck and arching against him temptingly.

You carry on this way, endlessly kissing, caressing, bodies craving contact at every point. Santi hooks your thigh around his own, thrusting slowly up into the center of you as his free hand slips back underneath your top. “You really wanna do this here, bebécita?” He whispers between kisses.

Santiago is in amazing shape and you’re stupidly in love with him, but gone are the years of sneaking around for wild quickies against doors. Still…it’s tempting.

“Maybe not,” you smile against his lips. “Got something new for you too. Why don’t I go change?”

“Mmm, okay.” Although he agrees, he squeezes your hips, shifting up to rock against you with renewed vigor, lips trailing across your jaw to suck a mark into the flesh of your neck.

“God, baby…” you pant, meeting his thrusts eagerly, dizzy and euphoric from the alcohol and the dancing…and him.

“Missed you so much.” He clambers through the fog of his own lust and pulls you into a protective embrace, helping you stand up straight, so he can take you upstairs, as you requested.

But the world has spun off its axis tonight, and as he takes you by the hand once more, the way he loves to do, you find yourself stumbling down with him on the staircase, giggling like you did when you were younger - when he took your virginity and made you fall in love with him.

“Shit, sorry,” he half apologizes, his legs falling open as you drape your body over his, your thighs spreading wide across his lap.

“Told you I’d be on top,” you cheekily toy with him, shifting your aching core to rub over his obvious erection.

“Fuck…honey,” he growls, done with all the teasing and flirting. He pushes hungry hands under your shirt, feeling you up as his lips chase yours. As his tongue rolls over yours, he moans into your mouth when he feels the softness of your bra. You wore his favorite - the black lace with touches of emerald green satin. He bought it for you overseas - the biggest surprise of all being that he got the right size in a beautiful bra that’s actually comfortable and supportive.

But that’s how Santiago is: observant, beautiful, comfortable, supportive and sexy. Weird to have a bra remind you of your stunning husband but well…

He all but tears the shirt over your head, restraining himself only enough to keep from pulling or otherwise messing up your hair. Santiago is an expert at you. He knows when to push or pull or lead or follow - when to be rough or test your boundaries, and when to protect you and love you softly.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he rumbles, hands reverently steadying you on top of him by your soft shoulders, before he drags them down to cup your lace covered tits. You arch into his expert touch, slowly rocking in his lap, putting on a little show for him.

You’ve changed over the years. Your body naturally isn’t what it was the first time he took you. But Santiago never ceases to make you feel prized and adored and so beautiful. He makes you believe it somehow, even when you silently criticize yourself in the mirror.

So you let him adore you - you’re safe with him as he touches you all over, worshipping your curves and soft, plush places.

“I love you so much,” you breathe out as he nudges at your stomach, attempting to get you to lift up so he can take off your pants.

“Love you too, baby. But I’ll love you more when you’re naked.”

You snort at his cheesy forwardness, realizing he’s a bit more horny while you’re swooning with romance. You are on the stairs, after all. But he’s determined, rolling you beside him and yanking at fabric until you’re bare from the waist down. So much for the matching cheeky panties.

You forget to care that he didn’t mention them when he spreads your legs wide and drags his knuckles through your wet heat. The overexposure you feel dwindles away as he leans over to brush open-mouthed kisses against your stomach. Steadying yourself, you push your fingers through his curls. “This isn’t fair, babe. You’re still completely dressed.”

Peering up at you through endlessly long lashes, he smirks. “I don’t need to be naked to eat you out.”

“Santi,” you gasp in mock surprise, as he quickly and tauntingly kisses a trail down to your core. “What has gotten into you?”

He grins. "That a trick question? Oh shit - "

You watch him wince in pain. "Knees?"

He groans, nodding. "Knees."

"Come here, Papacito," you tease, climbing to your feet and offering him your hand.

The sight of you standing above him on the stairs, naked except for your bra and a sparkling bracelet quickly convinces him to follow.

You rush ahead of him to your bedroom, feeling a dizzy, freeing rush after a night of dancing and foreplay, but so ready to get this man of yours on your familiar, comfortable bed. After ordering him to lie down, you slip into the silky little number you ordered specifically for his next homecoming.

Slithering on top of him, you yank at his belt buckle.

“Just tell me what to do, mi reina. Make it easy for me.” He grins in self-satisfaction.

"I just want you out of these clothes," you fire back, wordlessly working him free enough for you to take hold of.

He groans out something incoherent as you tease the hot, heavy length of him, gliding your hand up and down his shaft.

"Just like that," he pants, his hips involuntarily bucking as you lean over and swirl your tongue all over his tip. "Fuck, I missed that." Slipping his hand around the nape of your neck, he has to restrain himself from thrusting up into your hot, wet mouth.

Santiago knows there's not another woman like you, anywhere. He's traveled over half the world, a couple dozen times over, so he knows. It's not just that you're beautiful. You radiate beauty. The trust you place in him and the freedom you give him to be who he is, to pursue his career, is as much a siren call, luring him back to you every chance he can manage, as it is a steady anchor for him.

As you take him deeper, his breath quickens at the thought of coming down your throat, but somehow, he's distracted by a need to reclaim you. To take possession of your body the way he dreamed of doing on the dance floor. As your lithe body swayed, matching his rhythm, following his lead, he noticed the men devouring you with their eyes.

He would grip your hips tighter, grind against you possessively and trail his lips down the side of your neck, marking you as his own.

But before he can claw his way out of the haze you're literally sucking him into, you pull off his cock with a pop, lips wet and pouting.

"Take these off," you whine, yanking at the waistband of his pants, attempting to pull them down over his thick thighs. "Can't reach all of you."

He surprises you by climbing off the bed to undress completely. With only moonlight spilling in through the bedroom window, he wears the vigor of his last mission on his skin, darker from days in the sun. His toned muscles flex with every motion, fresh bruises and old scars telling the story of his adventurous life.

You're way past giving him a lecture every time he returns home with a new piece of the story etched onto his skin.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, you stretch out your fingers, tracing a healing bruise just under his ribs, situated beside a small, angry cut. Your eyes lock with his and he nods, letting you know that whoever inflicted this pain is taken care of. You press your lips there, learning the new marks of him, claiming this new part of him as your own.

"Show me where else," you plead, but he's shaking his head, easing down to hover you, his body flexing deliciously as he rolls you underneath him and covers your lips with his.

You moan into his mouth as his hands roam all over the shape of you, just like while you were out dancing, but wilder, more possessive. His tongue licks deeper as he grips your hips, positioning you underneath the hungry thrust of his hips against your thigh.

Your fingers slip around his neck, tenderly fingering the scar from his surgery before sliding into his hair, yanking hard enough to pull his mouth free of yours and earn you an appreciative moan. You yank again, harder, the leverage enabling you to pull your silk-covered breasts flush against the bare heat of his chest.

Slinging one leg around the back of his thigh, you meet his steady grinding eagerly, already panting as he smirks against your cheek.

"You've been wet all night, haven't you?" He teases, tugging your earlobe into his mouth. "All those men watching you dancing, but no one's touching my wife but me."

He sucks a mark into your neck, pushing one hand up your inner thigh, kneading the soft flesh, but stopping short of your aching, wet core.

"Wanted to touch you right here, make you come, soak those pretty panties," he taunts, tracing one finger over your puffy folds.

"Why didn't you?" A pout escapes your lips as you desperately attempt to shift your hips, to chase his fingers for any sort of friction. "Wanna come for you, Santi, show them I'm yours."

At that confession, he slides two thick fingers inside you, curling them forward into your spongy softness, beckoning your hips forward.

"Want me to finger you next time we dance, baby?" He huffs against your lips, rubbing the heavy length of his cock against the slick on your thigh, already dripping from your sopping core. "Wear a pretty dress for me and let me feel you up? You would be louder than the music when you come. Dirty girl.”

Your back arches off the bed at the sound of his voice goading you - something he does often during long distance sex. Your mind briefly drifts to the half dozen times he’s nearly taken you over the edge with his voice alone, uttering filthy things, finally allowing you to touch yourself for some gratification, or at least relief.

Before you can beg him to keep talking, he swipes his thumb over your clit, working a third finger into your hole, expertly coaxing your first orgasm out of you. Your thighs shake, chest heaving as you tremble and shudder around his fingers. “Oh fuck, Santi…so good,” you pant. “Missed you so much.”

Chasing after his lips with your own, you press a tempting kiss to his mouth, licking it open even as he strokes you past overstimulation, smiling into your kiss as you squirm to get away from him.

“Too much?” he grins, nibbling your bottom lip, swirling his middle finger like a cyclone inside you, just because he can.

“No. Want your cock.” You bite his lip and he hisses as you wrap smooth fingers around his hard, leaking length, pushing your thumb roughly over his tip.

Shimmying your hips closer to what you really want, you beckon him forward, rubbing his tip between your folds. But he resists you.

“Say that again,” he murmurs, biting gently on your jaw, then your throat, his hot breath making you tremble with desire.

Twisting your wrist, you work your hand up and down the length of his aching dick. “Want your cock. Want you inside me so bad.” Your tongue swirls inside his ear and he stutters out a gasp, shifting his hips to push his fat tip into your dripping hole.

He moans out your name, thrusting all the way inside. Your warm, wet walls hug him perfectly and he settles in that spot he knows you love. The stimulation and warmth of feeling him flush against you has you desperately rutting against him.

His hand grips your luscious thigh, pushing it up, folding you and opening you wider for him. Shifting his hips, he pumps into you faster, this angle hitting you so deep your head drops to the pillow as you whimper, overcome with how delicious it is to feel your husband, home, in your arms, in your bed, deep inside you where he belongs.

Grunts of pleasure pass his lips as he makes you his again, after weeks of nothing but a blurry, in-and-out video or sometimes, a crackly voice over a satellite phone.

“Don’t know how I ever leave this pussy,” he huffs, his body rolling over yours, spearing you open, molding you to the shape of his cock after so long without it. “That’s it. I fucking quit. I’m gonna spend the next month inside you.”

You know he’s not serious. Not yet anyway, but you love to hear it when he reclaims you like this. How he’ll forget everything else just to spend all his time coming inside you. And oh, does he make up for being gone when he’s home.

"This feels good," he sighs, hands tracing the shape of you through the silky lingerie you're wearing for him. His fingers drag and push the soft fabric until he's taking it over your head, licking his lips at the way your tits bounce as he fucks into you. "You feel better, though."

"Come here," you plead, luring him down all the way on top of you, kissing him wildly as his chest settles against yours. A light sheen of sweat forms between you, slick and hot as you sling your legs all the way around his waist, pulling him harder and deeper, if it's possible.

The thrusting of his tongue inside your mouth almost seems to match his hips and you grip onto him for dear life, holding him so tightly, your bodies rutting faster and harder in one deliciously fluid movement, so in sync you move as one.

The friction against your clit has you on the edge. You're unable to meet his hungry kiss with anything more than a long, breathy moan.

"Come on, baby, I'm so fuckin' close," he rumbles, his rhythm faltering as your walls hug his shaft, fluttering and pulsing, soaking his cock before you shriek in pleasure. Gripping him tighter, so wet and so tight he comes with you, filling you with his warmth, dragging his lips across your shoulder to bury his strangled cry in your neck.

You cradle his head, kissing his cheek, his ear, carding your fingers through his damp curls and whispering how much you adore him as he comes back to himself, finally going still, safe in your arms.

You rest there together, mouths fusing for a languid kiss, bodies joined and sated, sharing one another's breath. Santi holds you so close and you know he needs this. Needs to stay inside you, connected to you, wrapped up together, the heat of your bodies, your sweat and the slick between your legs raw and real and grounding for a man who has seen too much and is gone too often.

This is when Santiago is his most vulnerable, and inevitably makes his way to the question voicing his deepest fear. "Don't let me go."

"Never," you swear, wrapping your arms and legs around him tighter and squeezing him fiercely. "I'll always be right here, you know that."

He feels the slight scrape of your new diamond bracelet against the nape of his neck, toying with the scar from his operation. He knows diamonds won't make up for the fact that he's not here, and he doesn't want to pretend that it means something deep - such as he's with you whenever you wear it.

You're both years past that bullshit now. It's a beautiful piece and it belongs on his beautiful wife - it's that simple.

He asks you every time he comes home, if it's too much. Makes you promise you'll tell him if doubt has crept into the back of your mind. He does it now, and you know what he means.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He kisses you again, his body finally relaxing completely.

"Besides," you tease, "You're going to be inside me for the next month, remember? So neither of us are going anywhere."

He was teasing about that. You know it and he knows it. But now that you say it out loud...

"Yes ma'am." The next mission can wait.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Ivy's 1st Ficiversary Celebration

Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist (Santiago, Leto, Nathan, Llewyn, Orestes)

Main Masterlist

updates blog @ivystoryupdates

[angelacademy]

Accessorising according to your face shape and undertones.

ⅰ. finding your face shape

▸ Oval: Your face is slightly longer than it is wide, with a rounded jawline and forehead slightly wider than the jaw.

▸ Round: Your face appears equally wide and long, with a rounded jawline and hairline.

▸ Square: Your face has a similar width across the forehead, cheekbones, and jawline, with a strong, angular jaw.

▸ Rectangular (Oblong): Your face is longer than it is wide, with a squared jawline and more length than a square face.

▸ Heart: Your forehead is the widest part of your face, tapering down to a narrow, pointed chin.

▸ Diamond: Your cheekbones are the widest part, with a narrow forehead and jawline.

▸ Triangle (Pear): Your jawline is the widest part, with a narrower forehead.

ⅰⅰ. finding your undertone

compare you skin colour to this chart, keeping in mind the colour of your veins as well to find your undertone.

ⅰⅰⅰ. finding the jewellery for you

▸ Oval Face Shape:

Earrings: Oval faces can wear almost any style. Long dangles, hoops, and studs all work well. Avoid overly long earrings that can elongate the face further.

Necklaces: Short necklaces, chokers, and collars can complement your balanced proportions.

▸ Round Face Shape:

Earrings: Opt for long, dangling earrings or angular shapes like rectangles and trapezoids to add length and define the face.

Necklaces: Long necklaces and V-shaped pendants can help elongate your face.

▸ Square Face Shape:

Earrings: Choose earrings with curves, such as hoops or rounded designs, to soften your angles. Long drop earrings work well, too.

Necklaces: Long necklaces with pendants or shapes that elongate and add curves, like teardrops, are ideal.

▸ Rectangular (Oblong) Face Shape:

Earrings: Choose studs, shorter dangles, or chandelier styles to add width and balance your face length.

Necklaces: Chokers and shorter necklaces can help shorten the appearance of your face.

▸ Heart Face Shape:

Earrings: Look for earrings that are wider at the bottom than the top, like teardrops and chandeliers, to balance the narrow chin.

Necklaces: Short necklaces, chokers, or necklaces with a curved shape to balance your chin and draw attention upward.

▸ Diamond Face Shape:

Earrings: Choose earrings that are wider than they are long, like studs or short dangles. Teardrop and curved designs work well.

Necklaces: Choose shorter necklaces or chokers to soften the angles of your face and add width to your jawline.

▸ Triangle (Pear) Face Shape:

Earrings: Opt for earrings that add width to the upper part of your face, like chandeliers, teardrops, or other designs that are wider at the top.

Necklaces: Look for necklaces with intricate details or bold designs to draw attention away from the jawline and add balance to your face.

▸ Warm Undertones

Characteristics: Yellow, peachy, or golden undertones. Veins may appear greenish.

Best Metal:

Gold: Yellow, rose, and even bronze gold tones work wonderfully with warm undertones. They enhance the natural warmth of your skin.

▸ Cool Undertones

Characteristics: Pink, red, or blue undertones. Veins may appear bluish or purple.

Best Metal:

Silver: Sterling silver, white gold, and platinum are ideal for cool undertones. These metals complement the cool hues in your skin.

▸ Neutral Undertones

Characteristics: A mix of both warm and cool undertones. Veins may appear bluish-green.

Best Metal:

Gold or Silver: People with neutral undertones have the flexibility to wear both gold and silver. Both metals will complement your skin tone, so you can choose based on your outfit or personal preference.

▸ Olive Undertones

Characteristics: A combination of green and yellow undertones, often giving the skin a slightly greenish cast.

Best Metal:

Gold and Silver: Olive undertones can generally wear both gold and silver. However, gold (both yellow and rose) can enhance the warm aspect of olive skin, while silver can bring out cool, greenish hues. Experiment with both to see which you prefer.

▸ Additional Tips:

Mixing Metals: Don't be afraid to mix gold and silver. This works especially well if you have neutral or olive undertones.

Skin Tone Changes: Your skin tone can change with the seasons (e.g. getting more tanned in summer), so you might find that different metals suit you better at different times of the year.

XOXO

[the-jewel-catalogue]

Monthly Jewels: June || Pearl

The Bahrain Pearl Drop Earrings

The then princess Elizabeth received a haul of royal jewels as wedding gifts. Among them was a cache of seven pearls, presented in a shell, a gift from the Hakim of Bahrain.

At some point shortly after the royal wedding, two of the Bahraini pearls were used to make a new pair of earrings. The earrings feature round diamond studs, from which are suspended round- and baguette-cut diamonds in an arrangement typical of the late 1940s. The pearls are used as drops on the earrings.

[ladysomething]

hi mads!!! i’m on a vacation rn and was just thinking about max and charles going on one and what would happen so i just wanted to ask if we are gonna get a scene like that or probably not? 🩷🩷

well I guess we'll get summer break?? that kind of counts??? but I'm not telling you what happens! hahah

instead you can have this completely unrelated fic I started while I was just on holidays!!!

completely unedited, haven't read it back so it might be garbage but have everything I wrote for it anyway

The year Max retired from F1, Charles won his second Championship. 

Max had been going to win it, probably, because he’d had such a lead over Charles going into summer break. Even Charles hadn’t thought he’d be able to overturn the deficit, not with with shitty car Ferrari had built that year. 

And then, two days before the season was going to start up again after summer break, Max had announced his retirement from F1—effective immediately. 

Charles had called and texted, and called and texted, but eventually the number had come back as disconnected. 

It’s been five years since then, and every day Charles wonders what happened. He’d asked all their mutual friends, and then he’d even tried just Max’s friends, and eventually he’d even decided to bother Sophie and Victoria, but nobody would tell him anything. Charles has thought of everything in that time: maybe Max was sick. Maybe his mother was sick. Maybe Red Bull had wanted something Max couldn’t give. Maybe Max had just decided he simply didn’t want to get in a car one more time. 

Without a single photo of Max in the last five years, Charles had even wondered whether Max had died. 

Now, standing in a patisserie, in a tiny rural town in France, Charles finally has his answer. 

“What the fuck?” Charles demands, stalking up to him. Max’s shoulders go tense, and then he spins around, jaw dropped. “What the fuck?” 

Max claps his hands down over the ears of the little girl he’s with, then says, “Language!” like that’s really the biggest issue right now. 

“Don’t you—I thought you were dead!” Charles shrieks, feeling half insane. The staff member and the only other customer in the shop stare at him, but Charles doesn’t care. “Max—you!” 

He rushes towards Max, probably looking half insane, which is confirmed when Max tenses up like Charles is going to punch him, but instead Charles throws his arms around Max’s shoulder and pulls him in as close as he can, hooking his chin over Max’s shoulder and pulling their chests so tight that Charles can’t really breathe. 

Max is clearly surprised, but Charles doesn’t let him go, just pulls him in tighter until Max puts one arm around Charles’ waist too. It’s clearly what Max needed, because he sighs into it and then is hugging Charles back fiercely, face buried in his neck. 

Fuck. Charles has missed him so fucking much. 

He breathes him in deeply, but Max doesn’t smell like he remembers; there’s not even a hint of petrol on him, no smell of oil or tyres. He just smells . . . normal. 

It’s Max who lets go first, and Charles reluctantly follows. 

“I missed you,” Charles tells him, terribly earnest. He’ll feel humiliated about it later. 

Max gives him a small smiles, and then says, “I missed you, too,” with the same raw emotion in his voice. 

Maybe Charles won’t feel humiliated about it, then. 

Beside Max, the little girl tugs on his hand. Max turns to look down at her, expression so fond and open that it takes Charles’ breath away. It hasn’t hard to guess who she is: she looks exactly like Max. 

Blonde hair up in two little pigtails, round, pink cheeks, blue eyes, and dressed in a baby blue and white checkered dress. She has on little white socks with frills around the edges, white sneakers, and a little chain bracelet with a star on it. Charles thinks the star might be inset with diamonds, which he wouldn’t put past Max, really. 

“Papa,” she whispers urgently, tugging on his hand again. 

Max smiles at her and crouches down, letting the girl whisper into his ear. She’s staring nervously up at Charles as she does, but when Charles tries to give her an encouraging smile her eyes widen and she looks away from him. 

“This is Mister Leclerc,” Max says, straightening back up. “Charlie, this is Céline.” 

Lump in his throat, Charles kneels down himself, not caring that the floor of the patisserie is probably going to ruin his white linen pants. 

“Bonjour, Céline,” Charles says softly. “I like your dress. Blue is my favourite colour.” 

Céline lights up, smiling at him widely. She’s got the same smile as Max, her full lips pulling up her cheeks so she’s smiling with her whole face. Charles wonders what parts of her mother she has in her; as far as he can see, she’s all Max. 

“It’s my favourite, too,” she confesses with a heavily accented voice, and then looks like she’s concentrating very hard on something, before she turns back to Max. “Papa, hoe zeg ik in het Engels dat ik de ogen van meneer Leclerc mooi vind?” 

Charles looks up at Max, who looks like he’s about to burst into laughter, and says, “Why don’t you try French?” 

In almost perfect French, she says, “I like your eyes.” 

Charles’ face flushes red as he glances up at Max, who is grinning widely. 

“I like your eyes, too,” Charles answers in French, because that’s clearly easier for her. Max has clearly been putting in a lot of effort with her, if she can already speak three languages. “They look like your father’s.” 

Céline beams at him and leans into Max’s thigh, burying her face into his pants as she giggles. When Charles looks up again, Max’s cheeks have gone pink, too. 

“Are you staying in town?” Max asks Charles as he stands back up. “Céline and I are on our way home from the park for nap time, but maybe you can around for dinner tonight?” 

Charles isn’t staying in town. He’s actually only here because he got hungry and decided to stop for a pastry on his drive back to Monaco—he’s got plans there tonight, and all of tomorrow. 

Instead, he blurts out, “Yes, I’m staying in—I’d love to come over. For dinner. Tonight.” Max stares at him like he’s an idiot, and Charles finishes with a lame, “Please.” 

[taylorswiftstyle]

"Fortnight" music video | April 19, 2024

Anita Ko 'Diamond Loop Earrings' - $5,900.00 Anita Ko 'Diamond Huggies with Round Diamond Drops' - $3,800.00

[i-heart-slashers]

For birthday promos. Jealousy jealousy number two.

With Charles Lee ray plz

“Of course I am jealous! You’re mine!”

Pairings: Charles Lee Ray x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): theft. dark themes. mentions of murder and brutality. toxic relationship. jealousy.

You had gotten sick of seeing Charles talking to Tiffany any time the two of you had gone out to the bar or any place the blonde had popped up like she had a tracker on your boyfriend.

He'd broken up with her months before he'd met you, but still, it was like they couldn't fully part ways.

His comments of only wanting and loving you now went on deaf ears, especially when he made no move to stop Tiffany from flirting and touching him flirtatiously.

Whenever you bring it up, he's clueless to the blonde's charms and expresses that they're just friends now and are comfortable around each other because of their history.

It wasn't easy being Charles' girlfriend, especially with him being the Lakeshore Strangler, but you loved him, and you also loved being a part of that danger.

With every touch Tiffany places on Charles, a murderous thought goes through your brain as she cackles at his words. You've mentally killed Tiffany numerous times in so many different scenarios, but your face expresses nothing.

You can't really blame her; she was still head over heels with Charles and would definitely keep putting the moves on him, displaying ample cleavage with that heart tattoo.

Instead, you could blame your boyfriend, who, for all his cluelessness, heard your angered pleas of keeping her away too many times to be able to act dumb anymore.

So, you put a plan into action. Tiffany may have the seductive womanly wiles to distract your boyfriend, but you have brains and pure knowledge of how Charles works.

Denying your boyfriend's invitations to go to the bar that night to celebrate his success of killing some rich woman, you instead get yourself dressed up and meet a friend you met in the 'scene.'

Aka… another criminal you knew.

Pulling your 'friend' into the bar, you ignore everyone as you lead him over to a booth, the act immediately caught by Charles, who was no longer listening to the bartender.

No Tiffany in sight…. strange…

This was your plan all along; you knew that it would piss him off to not only see you with another man but another criminal. A petty criminal at that.

Charles had an ego the size of America, and you knew him seeing you laugh it up with someone he deems beneath him would cause a volatile eruption.

It's not long before Charles storms over, threatening your 'date' with his revolver and forcing you out of the bar, hissing and swearing as he drags you to the run-down apartment you share.

The two of you yell over each other as your arguments are usually this explosive. Neighbors bang on paper-thin walls as gunfire rings out from outside as you live in a rough part of town.

Pushing his hands away from him, you frown, hissing, "You're just jealous, Charles. He's just a friend, and we've known each other a long time." You say this, which is pretty much summarizing his words about Tiffany.

Charles throws his coat on the couch, runs his hands through his hair, and looks frustrated and furious. "Of course I am jealous! You're mine!" he yells, grabbing your arms, not as rough as you were bracing for. "…and I'm yours."

"Could have fooled me!" You scream back at him as his face drops as the words you hiss in his face. "I may be yours, but… I wonder sometimes if you're just mine."

Your boyfriend stops as the apartment gets the quietest it's been after an argument. "Is this about Tiff? She means nothing anymore. You're it for me, doll; you get me through every shitty day!"

Charles brushes your face out of your hair before turning and walking to the mantlepiece, picking something up, and walking back over to you.

It looks like a custom-made ring with a 2-carat pear-shaped diamond centerpiece, a halo of round gemstones, and a plain band. You'd gotten used to identifying jewelry when you began dating Charles.

"I got this from that rich bitch tonight. It's probably worth five to six grand easy; I was gonna get you to sell it for us, but-…" He slips it onto your ring finger as you gasp. "I can kill more rich hags for their jewels."

You give a tiny smile, trying not to betray your happiness and joy that he had chosen you. Kissing him deeply, you hug yourself into him as his hands wander.

"Strange how Tiff didn't make it to the bar tonight, though; she was excited to hear about my latest victim," Charles muses as he holds you against his chest, his hands on your ass.

You just smirked knowingly as your head lay on his chest. "Yeah… strange."