jewel trim

Ma Reine
  • Word Count: 1,655
  • Characters: 2p France x Overweight Reader
  • Theme: Sugar Daddy, NSFW

You sighed as you sat on your throne in the empty, thought exquisite, room. Your fingers carefully turning the pages in the book you have been interested in lately. It’s funny, you asked for one book but now you own the whole series but more. With a loud sigh you placed the book mark between the pages and closed the cover. He was late again.

He promised to come home early from work so you two would have dinner together. You even went as far as to dress up for him. Standing up you admired yourself in the tall mirror admiring your reflection. The new Dior velvet dress hugged your curves and plump form perfectly, and the Louboutin heels accentuated your silky smooth legs that you previously used lavish oils on. Your chubby fingers delicately traced over the Chanel jewelry you recently got as a gift from him.

You were so entranced by your luxurious appearance you failed to feel a presence behind you and the smell of cigarette smoke. It wasn’t until two strong arms wrapped around your large waist did you notice his appearance in the mirror. “Mon Amour..” he spoke softly in your ear while planting soft kisses on your bare shoulder.

You let out a sigh before replying, “You’re late….again” before you pushed out of his arms to sit back on your throne he had bought you. He always expressed how much you resembled a Queen to him, and that you should be treated exactly as such. He bought you a throne and multiple crowns for you to wear as the finishing touch. However, after the fifth tiara you began to grow bored of its dazzling impression.

He sighed before bringing out a box and laying it on your lap gently with a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You smiled and opened the box to reveal, yet another, tiara. However, this one seemed to be the most extravagant of your collection. He watched you contently as you admired the new accessory. Shining diamonds and jewels with gold trimming, immediately catching your breath.

He took the crown and placed it gently on the top of your head before smiling, admiring at the finishing touch to your complete look. This is how you should always be, sitting on your throne in his lavish home with a crown on your head to resemble the Queen you are of his life.

You often asked him how he was able to afford such gifts, but he always chuckled deeply and patted your head telling you not to worry your pretty head. Of course, there was always benefits of running an underground empire while having a couple of politicians in his pocket at his disposal. He had more money than he couple spend, until you came alone that is.

Your smile soon dropped into a frown, immediately catching his attention. “Do you not like it Mon Amour? I could always buy you anothe-” but you quickly cut him off. “N-no, it’s not that. You said you would be home early so we could have dinner together” you said before looking into your lap. Of course this was not the first, nor the last time, he would be late to an evening with you. But you understood, bills needed to be payed and he played a big part in his job. “

His fingers gently lifted your chin, making you look into his violet eyes. "I know I said I would, but today was very busy” he said before leaning into gently place a kiss on your plump lips. His lips lingered on yours, enjoying the moment you both were sharing.

“You’re wearing that red Chanel lipstick I love, Mon trésor” he said huskily while his hands wandered down your sides, stroking and grabbing every roll and curve. You nodded your head before melting into another kiss, but this one more heated and passionate than the last.

He hoisted you up and carried you bridal style to your shared bedroom, something like a Princess from a fairy tail. He placed you on the bed that was covered in silks and velvets. He stood and admired you, oh how you looked so beautiful. Something like an European masterpiece, artists painting noble women with curves.

He crawled onto the large bed and hovered over your body while his hands delicately wandered your body, making their way up your dress. You gasped as you felt his fingers skillfully stroke your nether regions through your Agent Provocateur lingerie you wore underneath. Oh how he loved when you wore brands that originated from Paris, it brought a sense of pride over him.

His fingers continued to drag alone your folds, ever so often bumping into your clit which earned an exquisite moan from your lips. His fingers soon found the zip to the back of your dress and agonizingly pulled it down slowly, the zipper resonating in the stale room as he peeled the dress off your body leaving you only in your luxurious lingerie and high heels.

You quickly grew impatient from the lack of touch and pouted, “Please touch me!” you whined out. This caused him to smirk, he always loved how spoiled you acted when you didn’t get what you wanted when you wanted it. Reason being, a punishment always followed behind when you acted out.

“Care to rephrase that, Amour?” he said with lust clouded eyes. You were shocked at his response and lack of actions to indulge you, “Please play with me…papa?” you said with a light blush dusting over your chubby cheeks.

“Anything for my princesse” before he got up to make his way to the safe in his large walk in closet. After inputting the safety code and grabbing a couple stacks of money, he made his way back to his awaiting Queen, whom has a confused expression on her features.

He broke the paper band on the stacks and threw them on the bed, green trickling down onto the bed and your curvaceous body. He licked his lips at the sight of his Queen covered in nothing but lingerie and his blood money. He had finally had enough and decided it was time to finally indulge into her fantasies.

He dropped to his knees beside the bed before pulling you close by your hips and biting the trim of your lace panties between his teeth, dragging it down your deliciously thick thighs to your ankles before completely removing them and tossing them into some unknown destination in the room. Never would he treat another woman like this, so gentle and loving. Yet, you were not some other woman. You were the love of his life, his everything.

He stood up and began to loosen and remove his Valentino tie followed by his Versace button up shirt and trousers. He fumbled with his leather belt until he was left in nothing but his Calvin Klein underwear while clearly sporting an obvious boner. You blushed deeply at this, even though you both have made love many times

He pulled out his erection and probed at your entrance, before looking into your eyes for a sign of assurance to continue. After you curtly gave him a nod, he slowly pushed into you. The sensations of lack from contact between you two, it felt like heaven. You both longed for this, needing to indulge each other and bask in each others presence. Ever since he had been so busy with his job, you both lacked spending quality time, so this was desperately needed.

After allowing you to adjust he began to rock his hips back and forth, earning sounds of pleasure from your lips. He smirked to himself knowing he was the one causing you to make these noises, and would be the only one to ever hear them for that matter. Soon, this slow pace began to become torturous. He needed to have you, desperately.

Soon, the pace went from loving and gentle to desperate and hungry. Your loud moans being echoed through out the stale room along with the sound of skin against skin. He pulled your leg onto his shoulder to allow a better angle and proceeded to push and pull into you with ease. Your head thrown back onto the bed in pleasure as your back arched and eyes rolled back, lost in the pleasure you were receiving from your french lover.

He pounded into you mercilessly on the green money he previously thrown on the bed, adding to the excitement of fucking on his blood money he earned under the table. Your juices running down your thighs and onto the bed sheets and on some dollar bills. Soon, he felt you contract and massage around him. Clearly nearing your end and his as well, he picked up the pace and rammed into you deeper. Trying to desperately rut his cock into you as deep as possible before finishing.

He lifted your large hips off the bed to rut himself deeper. With the new angle he found that one special spot deep inside you, earning a squeal from your lips and begs for him to do it again. He smirked before complying to your wishes, pounding into that certain spot over and over again.

He finally felt you contact and massage around him, nearing your end. You both were clearly nearing your ends soon so he began to rut himself deep into you, trying to give you a special gift deep into your womb. With a final push, you both had climax. His seed spilling inside you in spurts, filling you completely.

After embracing each other as close as possible, he finally pulled out of you. Streams of both your cum leaking out onto the bed and dollar bills. He smirked at the mess you’ve made on his bed before brushing your (H/C) hair out of your sweaty face.

“je t'aime”

Perfect Collision, We Call it Art (AKA Happy birthday Hailey!)

All right, so it’s @victuurificrec‘s birthday, and she’s kind of amazing. So I want to do something to say thank you for all the work she puts in. I have these few hundred words of a drabble about Yuuri and Phichit getting ready for a masquerade ball. I hope she (and you!) enjoys! <3

Here’s the thing about Yuuri Katsuki: everyone underestimates him.

It’s not really their fault, and in his healthier moments he’s able to acknowledge that it isn’t his fault either; it’s just how anxiety warps the world around him, like a miniature black hole or the world’s shittiest invisibility cloak. It coats him in a shimmering mirage of shyness and insecurity, and more often than not it’s basically impossible to remove.

It’s not a problem with him, not at his core. He’s just driving a damaged model, and he’s always painfully aware that the whole world can see every dent and scratch and crust of dirt. But there is a part of Yuuri that isn’t shy or introverted or self-loathing, but is instead all the things which make him awesome—a ball of flirtatiousness and confidence which takes pleasure in realizing his own potential. Being underestimated means you get to surprise people, given the chance, but doing so with all the anxiety is something of an uphill battle. The lump of flesh called Yuuri Katsuki—the one with the blue-rimmed glasses and the propensity for chubbiness around the middle and the infuriating ability to cry at the drop of a pin—is saddled with over two decades of emotional baggage. It’s hard to shine your brightest when you’re dragging all of that around.

So the masquerade is kind of a no-brainer.

Phichit, ever the social butterfly, is the one who invites him. The party is thrown by a complete stranger and details spread by word of mouth; this fact would normally mean a hard pass from Yuuri, but the idea intrigues him. It’s not a fundraiser or a networking event or a banquet; there’s no need for him to go and be himself. It’s a lavish party thrown for its own sake, promising food and drink and entertainment and dancing, with one strict rule: masks are required.

Yuuri doesn’t own a mask, nor does he own any clothing fancy enough to wear to such an event. He buys a ticket anyway.

The anxiety spikes, abates, and ebbs. He lets it come and go like a tide, getting lost in his work and very nearly forgetting that he and Phichit went for tuxedo rentals until the day before, when his roommate drags him to go pick up their suits.

At the tuxedo rental place, Yuuri lets the clerk fuss over him as much as she wants; it’s not until he steps out of the change room and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror that the wave of possibilities hits him. Because holy cats.

It’s not that he doesn’t know he’s attractive; Yuuri’s a perfectly decent-looking person, if a little on the plain side, and he ordered a plain tuxedo, but somehow the two plains are adding up to make a brand new and extraordinarily spiffy whole. He can hardly believe it.

The clerk cracks up when she sees his face. “First tailored suit, huh?”

“How could you tell?” Yuuri can barely drag his eyes away from the mirror.

She leans over to adjust his bow tie. “You look like you’re at your first prom, my lad.”

That yanks Yuuri out of his reverie, and he blushes furiously as Phichit emerges from his own dressing room, clad in a red-trimmed jacket that accents the warm tones of his skin. Yuuri lets the two of them chatter, musing and sneaking glances at himself in the mirror when he thinks no one is looking. His mood remains stoic all the way to the costume shop, at which point the sheer onslaught of sparkle and colour causes him to lose track of why he’s feeling so pensive. For the first few minutes he’s completely overwhelmed by the choices on display.

“What kind of mask are you going to wear, Yuuri?” Phichit asks, his voice muffled, and Yuuri looks over to see his friend glancing out from underneath a comically bizarre demonic visage. He cracks a smile.

“I’m not sure,” he says, letting his eyes wander over row after row of sightless eyes. “I’ll know it when I s—”

There. That one. Yuuri stands on tiptoe to gently lift the mask from its peg, and he knows it’s just his imagination but he swears that a tiny spark of electricity jolts through his fingertips as soon as he touches it.

In contrast with the outrageous amount of jewel tones and gold trim which surround it, this mask seems offensively plain at first. But as Yuuri looks closer, he sees that the piece is actually divided cleanly down the middle, and purposefully asymmetrical: one is an inky blue-back, plain except for three bands of silver that slash across the top corner of the mask, almost like the mark of a knife. The other side is even more stunning; the eye hole sweeps to a slight upward point at the outer corner, and the colour is more charcoal, studded all over with tiny black and silver jewels that resemble the night sky. The colour slowly blends into dark red at the very bottom corner, so subtly that it’s hard to notice except from the right angle.

With only the barest pause, he lifts the piece to his face and turns to look in the mirror.

Oh yes.

This is the one.

Have a Holly Jolly - wait, what?!

What if Hobbits celebrated Christmas. I mean, dwarves have their celebrations, but what if over the course of their journey, the dwarves found out about how hobbits believe in a fat man called Santa Clause who brings gifts and presents for all well behaved children, or he will bring other stuff for the children who are bad. They learn all about the Christmas tree, the presents they need to get for each other, the cookies needed to be left out along with the carrots for Santa’s magical flying reindeer, the decorating they have to do, the letters they have to write to Santa, and of course they learn all they can about Santa Clause.

Kíli: So, what does this Santa Clause man look like?

Bilbo: Well, he has a big long beard, and a pointy hat.

Fíli: So, like Gandalf, but in red robes???

Now imagine once they reclaim Erebor, they actually remember all of that stuff Bilbo told them(it helps when you have Ori who wrote it all down for them), and they surprise Bilbo by getting a tree, decorating it in pretty jewel ornaments and gold trimming, and every single person has gotten a gift for every member of the company.
Imagine all of them getting all worked up over Santa.
Imagine Fíli and Kíli all of a sudden becoming suspiciously well behaved and helpful.
Imagine every member of the company getting super worked up over their letter, and they keep going to Bilbo to ask him for advise on how to phrase certain things, or how many things can the big fat red man actually bring me in Christmas.
Imagine a very timid and shy Thorin asking Bilbo if he was writing a letter to Santa (because if Bilbo wasn’t than neither was he) but to his relief and pleasure Bilbo wrote a letter too, so now Bilbo can help him with his letter (Also imagine Dwalin asking for help too!!)
What they all don’t know, is that while they were asking Bilbo for help, Bilbo was reading their letters and finding out what they all wanted.
Just imagine Bilbo playing Santa, and figuring out exactly where and how he could get serrated throwing knives, or a new axe cleaning supply kit, or new paints for wood crafts, or … what in Yavanna’s name does Kíli plan to do with a beard kit?
But, he manages to get at least one thing off each members Santa wish list, and puts them under the tree on Christmas Eve, eats five of the many cookies on the plate, takes the carrots and goes down to the stable to feed the horses, and finally is able to go to bed; and this of course is after he convinces Nori, Kíli, and Fíli to go to bed instead of waiting up to capture Santa and make him give them gifts all the time.
Now imagine, come Christmas morning, Kíli and Fíli wake up at the crack of dawn, along with the rest of the eager company, and just imagine how ecstatic they all are to receive presents addressed to them by SanTA!!!!!!
Imagine they all pass out their presents and Bilbo sits from his cozy chair watching all of them with a happy smile.
Imagine Bilbo feeling a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Thorin smiling softly down at him before he leans down to whisper in his ear.

Thorin: I noticed you did not receive any gifts from Santa Clause.

Bilbo: Oh, but I did! (Thorin looks at him puzzled)

Thorin: And what might that be?

Bilbo: A big family around me on Christmas Day. My own family.
Imagine Thorin smiling gently down at him before placing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Thorin: You are a priceless gift to us, ghivashel. One that Santa Clause did not give to us.
Imagine Bilbo just smiling at Thorin, before whispering a Merry Christmas, and giving that dwarf a big fat kiss. Their first kiss, in fact. How could Bilbo not? Especially since that’s what Thorin told Santa he wanted for Christmas.

Lady Playing a Lute (c.1530). Bartolomeo Veneto (Italian, c.1470-c.1531) and Workshop. Oil on panel. J. Paul Getty Museum.

Wearing an enigmatic expression, a young woman plays the lute. Instead of consulting the open book of music, the lutist faces the viewer. A sheer veil covers her wavy hair, and embroidered and jeweled trimming lines the bodice and sleeves of her green velvet gown. A fur piece is draped over her left arm. Worn by high-ranking women in the 1500s, such furs were thought to keep away fleas.


SD Legend BB - Gilded Knight Gundam

Woo! I finally got around to fully painting some gunpla! 

I wanted this guy to have a regal appearance, so the main colors I chose were gold and purple, with blue and silver for the trim. The jewel on the sword’s hilt that came with the kit was red, so I got some blue rhinestones and glued them to either side of a plastic rod that I slotted through the hole in the hilt. 

I also can’t stand the plastic capes that come with Legend BB kits, so instead of just recoloring the cape that it came with, I made a fabric one out of an old shirt that was filled with holes anyway. It has the same blue rhinestones on the front as the ones I used on the sword. 

Overall, I’m super happy with how this kit turned out! This has been one of my favorite builds I’ve ever done, and I can’t wait to keep improving.

And if anyone has any critiques, please feel free to offer it, and I’ll take the advice to heart.

The entire build process will be below the break.

Keep reading


Okay, this looks like a big upload but it is just pictures! So, in my attempt to make everything match (who doesn’t want matching sofas and curtains?!) I have recoloured all the ‘Caress’ curtains that came with TS4 BG.

  • Sandwich Jewel Colours
  • No trim, and black or white trim for each colour
  • Black or white rail
  • The curtains with rails and trim are in a separate recolour to the plain colours with rail
  • Original price


On Sunday, September 1st, in 1532, Anne Boleyn was made the Marquis* (Marchioness or Marquess) of Pembroke by King Henry VIII. Just a few months later, her status would be elevated to that of Queen of England.  

The lavish ceremony was held at Windsor Castle, and it was followed by a sumptuous banquet, where Henry and Anne celebrated her elevation to nobility.  A marquis is one of the most prestigious ranks of nobility, ranking above a count, but lower than a duke.  The title of Marquis was not a normal status for a female.  Females only became marchionesses if their husband was a marquis.  Because Anne was given the status of marquis, that meant that her lands and income were hers, and hers alone.

For the ceremony, Anne dressed in jewels and crimson velvet trimmed with ermine.  She would have undoubtedly looked like a queen with her beautiful loose flowing hair, which was a traditional look for coronations, as well as her elaborate clothing and jewels.  But Anne looking like a queen was no doubt what Henry and Anne wanted, since she was Queen of England in all but name.

Anne’s cousin, Mary Howard, Dorothy Countess of Derby, and Elizabeth Countess of Rutland accompanied Anne at the ceremony. Mary Howard was tasked with carrying the crimson ermine trimmed mantle and the golden coronet that would be placed on Anne’s person during the ceremony.  Mr. Garter bore Anne’s patent of creation.  Anne was taken into the King’s presence by men-at-arms and some noblemen, where she knelt in front of Henry VIII and the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, as well as other nobles, and the French Ambassador.  While kneeling, she listened as Archbishop Stephen Gardiner read out the patent which gave her the noble title of Marquis of Pembroke in her own right and which would pass on to her children.  After the patent was read, Henry VIII crowned her with the gold coronet of a marquis and then he placed a crimson velvet mantle upon her shoulders.  Along with the patent of nobility, Anne was also given ownership of lands that were worth over £1000 per year.  After receiving her two patents, Anne thanked the king and returned to her chamber for a short time.

The lavish ceremony was later followed by a sumptuous banquet as Henry and Anne celebrated Anne’s noble title. She would be Queen in just a few months.

There is the following record of the ceremony In Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII:

” ‘Creacion of lady Anne, doughter to therle of Wilteshier, marquesse of Penbroke.’

Sunday, 1 Sept. 1532, 24 Hen. VIII. The lady was conveyed by noblemen and the officers of arms at Windsor Castle to the King, who was accompanied by the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk and other noblemen, and the ambassador of France. Mr. Garter bore her patent of creation; and lady Mary, daughter to the duke of Norfolk, her mantle of crimson velvet, furred with ermines, and a coronet. The lady Marques, who was “in her hair,” and dressed in a surcoat of crimson velvet, furred with ermines, with strait sleeves, was led by Elizabeth countess of Rutland, and Dorothy countess of Sussex. While she kneeled before the King, Garter delivered her patent, which was read by the bishop of Winchester. The King invested her with the mantle and coronet, and gave her two patents,—one of her creation, the other of 1,000l. a year. She thanked the King, and returned to her chamber.

Gifts given by the lady Marques :—To Mr. Garter, for her apparel, 8l.; to the Office of Arms, 11l. 13s. 4d. The King gave them 5l.

Officers of Arms present :—Garter and Clarencieux, kings; Richmond, Carlisle, and Windsor, heralds; Rougecross, Portcullis, Bluemantle, and Guisnes, pursuivants.”

There is also a record of the valuation of Anne’s lands:

“Valuation of her lands.

Total of the lands of the lady Anne marchioness in Wales, over and above casualties not charged, 710l. 7s. 10¾d., out of which she is charged to pay by the King’s grants yearly, 199l. 5s. 11d., “which the tallage or knowledge money will discharge for the time; and after that, the fines for the sessions and the customs which be not charged in the value will discharge them.”

Sum of the lands in England: Corry Mallett, Soms., Hundesdon, and Estwyke, Herts, “lands late Philip Pary’s, in Hundesdon,” manors of Stansted, Roydon, Fylollyshall, and Cokkeshall, and Weston next Baldoke (value of each stated separately), 313l. 5s. 3¾d. Total for England and Wales by the last gift of the King, 1,023l. 13s. 2¾d.”


Marquis- A marquis is a nobleman that is ranked above a count and earl, but lower than a duke.