#metallic gold flats

[flats-fan]

Source: @ballerinaslippersexperience

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Remi Dress from Ivy City Co ($158), Trendy CC Top Handle Metallic Bag from Chanel (n/a) and Michaela Mary Jane Flat in Bright White from Sam Edelman ($130)

[crowned-peony]

Tell me of a sentimental item(s) you have

I wanna listen to the story about who gave it to you or how you got it

Is it with you every day? Is it somewhere safe?

[freshthoughts2020]

[aosororityhouse]

Dana dancing on the beach during a party for her cheerleading squad. (10485)

[monicasaiplayground]

10485 - Dana Heart 1 as a los angeles rams dancer - OpenArt

[blingschlingersjewelry]

A Cute Vacation Accessory!

Save big, accessorize for less, and enjoy the deep discount prices at #Blingschlingers.com!

These gold plated solid sterling silver Sandal Earrings are only $6.89!

[madisonmaison]

Stepping Out in Trendy Gold Ankle Boots

These trendy boots can be paired with various outfits, such as skinny jeans or leggings for a chic casual look, or with dresses and skirts for a more glamorous and dressy appearance. The gold ankle boots create a focal point in the overall look, drawing attention to the wearer's feet and making them stand out from the crowd.

Due to their unique color and design, these boots are perfect for adding a touch of drama and flair to an otherwise simple or monochromatic outfit. They can also be a fun way to experiment with fashion and add a playful element to one's personal style.

When stepping out in trendy gold ankle boots, confidence is key. Embrace the boldness of the footwear and rock them with pride, knowing that you're making a fashion-forward statement with every step you take. These boots offer a fresh and contemporary take on traditional ankle boots, and they are sure to turn heads and spark conversations wherever you go.

[dead-end-draws]

WOF tribe Merchant/Trading booth concepts:

Hey folks! This one was the recent winner of this WOF poll, so here’s my concept art that headcannons trading in Pyrrhia.

Read below cut for close-ups of the individual booths + the thought process / headcannons behind the design choices: 👇

Skywings: The Sky Kingdom’s mountain ranges provide plenty of pasture for raising sheep. As such, Skywing shepherds benefit from traveling to sell their wool, dyes, fabric, and woven tapestries. Many of these merchant tables also include herbs grown exclusively in the mountains, or ibex drinking horns that can be strapped on a dragon’s shoulder & carried in flight.

Along with goods, Skywing merchants may offer sewing services to fix tears, burn marks, or other fabric damage. They are sought out for their quality clothing, and most fabric across Pyrria originated from a Skywing’s talons.

Mudwings: Mudwings’ abundant food & cooking skills are envied almost anywhere in Pyrrhia. Their swamps have fertile soil, responsible for hosting diverse crops which can be purchased as produce at merchant stalls. For those lucky enough to find a traveling Mudwing merchant, the promise of a delicious dish can be whipped up and served at the stall in no time. Along with produce goods, Mudwings sell weaved baskets, spices, and cooking ware.

Sandwings: Sandwing booths offer luxuries of the desert: It’s most common to find accessories such as gold carved jewelry or musical instruments such as drums, lyres, & mandolins for sale. Though, even more sought out across Pyrrhia is Sandwing tattoos/piercings, which are done within the merchant areas. Ink etchings on papyrus paper are stationed outside their tents to showcase designs. All which can be selected, and poked into the skin with a tapping stick and plant dye ink by a trained talon.

Seawings: SeaWings sell a variety of ocean related goods; taking a share in the fish market with Icewings. Outside of food, there are den decorations like driftwood carvings, accessories such as seashell & pearl jewelry, and rope nets weaved by expert Seawing sailors. Some Seawings even sell fishing equipment, canoes, or offer sailor knot tying instructions to curious dragon buyers.

Nightwings: During the war, it was near impossible to find a Nightwing merchant. Most refused to participate in merchant territory, mostly as a way to keep up with their tribe’s mysterious nature.

Though in the more shady, unground parts of the market you can buy from a huge selection of obsidian weaponry, the sharpest in Pyrrhia. No one knew initially how Nightwings smithed so many weapons, or why, until their secret volcano kingdom and the intention to invade the rainforest was discovered. Then forging armor & weapons became clear. Along with a vast armory, for the right price, some Nightwing merchants offer Prophecies & Nightwing Literature (not always guaranteed to always be reliable) and assassin services as well (very reliable).

Rainwings: Though Rainwings haven’t been part of Pyrrhia trading for years, they have a vast hold on dragon medicine. An apothecary of herbs, salves, and remedies are all offered for various ailments due to the rainforest’s abundant resources. Along with medicinal goods, many Rainwings are fruit vendors, promising to any hesitant meat-eating dragons that such an array of flavors isn’t to be missed. Though, their fruit selling pitches often fall flat to most other predominantly meat-eating tribes.

Icewings: Icewings have everything a dragon could need to brace the cold, with a selection of goods only found in the most frigid regions of Pyrrhia. Furs, bone jewelry, and fresh fish (thanks to frost breath) are served on ice. Though Icewings themselves don’t require fur to withstand the cold, it’s considered fashionable and common in upper ranks to wear fur as a status symbol. Since metal is hard to smith without fire & in cold temperatures, fur and bone are more accessible to Icewings for clothing statements.

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (One)

CW: Mutual masturbation ;)

Inspired by Neighbour!Simon

Chapter Two

Your legs perched up across the woven strings of the porch chair, knees littered with blue and black kisses, knotted joints tucked into your chest as you watched the peak of gold settle into a deep blue. Bony fingers laced the pages between parched hands, eyes darting maliciously between words as you hummed to yourself softly.

You were used to being out here alone, an orchestra of bats occasionally sounding out to you as they scurried away into pine trees, nipping between each other.  Your flat, a smaller duplex, was tucked away into a quiet cul-de-sac, away from the hustle and bustle of London life. It was an organised routine, your body succumbing to the night air as you bathed in the comforting atmosphere of the twilight. There was an occasional hum from up the road, the chug of a car passing through, but your interest peaked when the gravel road lit up, headlights streaming towards you as you shielded your eyes.

The sound of the engine frightened you a bit before you adjusted your vision. A large shadow stepped into view, the staggering height of a man peaking your attention before you took in the balaclava flushed against his face, russet eyes covered by a delicate frame of blonde lashes, stained with black face paint staring at you before dropping his head in a curt nod.

You recognised him as your neighbour. Quiet bloke, away often on deployment you presumed, but nether-the-less was a comfort for you. Even at home, it was like he was never there, the occasional echo of hollow boots sounding against the floorboards before they disappeared. He was ghostly, slightly peculiar but you noted him down mainly as mysterious.

You had spoken a few times, sounding good morning as he was outside having a smoke when you were leaving for work. His response was gruff and shallow, a deep voice barking out a short reply before smashing the dart under the rubble of his shoe, calloused hands gripping the door handle.

He walked past you, duffle bag dropped against the porch as he huffed with his keys, bruised knuckles peaking your attention as you glanced at him, framed eyes peering in curiosity.

“Y’ alright?” His tone was curt, a hint of annoyance ringing through as his eyes stained trained on the metal knob, working the key through the hole.

You squeaked out a noise, taken back by him as you adjusted in the chair, feet flat against the floor now. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just not used to you being here, it’s uh, nice for you to be back, less lonely,” you rambled, shuffling your hands awkwardly before you shut yourself up.

He let out a grunt, the noise almost animalistic sounding as he shut the door, his vague appearance shuffling into the quiet of his own home as you sat outside, whispering an expletive under your breath as you prodded at the ecchymosis on your nobbled knees.

Rough hands rubbed at the face paint, gentle soap working into the scorn skin, thickened skin almost melting under the velocity of the scolding water. Simon’s throat was scratchy, the irritating feeling of sandpaper lining his oesophagus as he choked out a cough. Broken blood vessels littered across the scarring of his back and ribs, a splurge of hematoma drawn across the broken skin.

Ivory skin was now painted with falling droplets of water, a scratchy moose-coloured towel adorned his hips as he shook his hair, moist residue landing on the mirror as he rubbed his hands across his face, a soft moan leaving his lips as he prodded the tender knot in his back.  

His home felt foreign, no matter how long he had lived there for.

His bedroom had dusk lighting, a double bed pushed against the flaky walls, the metal rods holding the frame scraping at the paint. A singular pillow to each side perked up against his touch as he layered them, unused linen welcoming him with a slight dusty smell, aching body collapsing into the plushness of the duvet.

He was aware that your bedroom was adjacent to his, your beds pushed directly together on opposite ends. He could hear the subtle creaks of your feet against the floor as you shuffled around, a chair squeaking across the floor as it collided with something before the noise of you walking sounded again. Simon could hear the springs in your bed, an acknowledgement that you were now lying down.

There was a low hum of a fan whirring, the white noise drifting into his room as he stared up at his own, the stagnant noise felt unorthodox, the familiarity of the barracks being the usual for the Lieutenant. Simon’s hands felt weighed down as he moved them from his chest to rest at his side, his breathing shallow as his ears perked at every movement you made.

You were restless, sweaty body tangled between cotton as you adjusted yourself, flinging your blankets off you as you let out gentle pants. You cursed at the lack of air conditioning available in British homes, peeling off your silken pyjama shorts as you flung them somewhere across your bedroom. Your body was hot and achy, the heat settling in even during the night as you turned to the side, beady eyes watching as the wind flickered the branches occasionally. You were tempted to sleep outside at this point, your room feeling like a sauna as you let out a frustrated quip.

There was a subtle ache between your thighs, a dull throbbing ringing through your brain as you attempted to position yourself better, clicking your calves as you rustled around. Tired arms stretched your top over your head as it too met the wraith of your floor, bare breasts perked against your sheets as you closed your eyes, cuddling up against a pillow.

Slumber never succumbed to your heated frame, the drill of your fan almost teasing you as it provided minimum cooling. You spread your legs, sweat prickling over your stretch marks as you moaned in annoyance. Your fingers trailed your slit through the thin fabric, turquoise-coloured panties fading into an aqua as you let out a shaky breath. You felt dirty, the dull throb of your cunt mocking you as needy fingers hooked into the lace, dragging them down the plushness of your thighs before settling at the end of your bed.

You fumbled around in your draw, clumsy fingers feeling around for your bullet vibrator before they rubbed against the silicone. You were sure to be quiet, your hands covering the majority of the vibrations as you nestled it between your folds, collecting the sweetness of your slick before resting it on your achy clit, an instant moan rising at your throat as you tweaked at your nipples.

The hum against your sex wasn’t enough as you sat up, resting the vibrator on your swollen nub as you straddled a pillow, sloppy pussy grinding against it rapidly as you rutted like a dog in heat, chasing your high.

You were a sight for sore eyes, breasts bouncing at your movements as you humped against the cushion, the cheap sex toy sounding against the bundle of nerves as you let out soft whimpers, mouth opened in an ‘o’ shape as you tugged at your hardened nubs that were practically aching against your chest.

It was like you were going through puberty again, squishy sounds squelching from your cunt at the licentious actions, hips getting sloppy as you felt your coil forming, antagonising moans dripping from your lips as you stilled, the silicone pressed sweetly into your clit as you whined into your hand, orgasm ripping through you as you jutted away from the stimulation, collapsing into a heap.

Simon frowned at how quickly your noises were over as a spit-covered cock throbbed in agony, veiny hands jutting around the angry member as he milked himself to the memory of your orgasm, hot splashes of cum spurting against his belly, a thick trail of hair leading down to his softening cock as he cleaned himself up before nestling into the comfort of his sheets and the barely audible hum of your breathing.

[sajidhaji]

[flats-fan]

[cheolism-archive]

BAPTIZE

✰ — motorbike racer!song mingi x f!reader ✷ — summary: a moment in a coat closet during a party. ✰ — wc is approx. 1.6k ✷ — genre: mob scene, underground racing, undefined sexual relationship. ✰ — warnings: oral (f! receiving), fingering (f!receiving), biting (f!receiving), mentions of murder, morally grey reader, morally grey world & fic. possessive mingi, pussy-drunk mingi, mingi's rings, mingi w an eyebrow piercing. exhibitionism (ig), mentions of suffocation (in a good way), the relationship between sex and religion (blasphemy). mob boss!choi seungcheol mentioned. ✷ — rating: 18+ mdni. ✰ — note: this is just an idea i got n wanted to flesh out a bit! if anyone wants me to explore some more, lmk! it's very much just a passing moment between these two characters; you're being thrown into a world, catching a small glimpse of it. inspired by that scene from "birthday" where mingi's grabbing the cake!

“pretty,” mingi breathed out. his nose bumped against your clit, and you could feel the movement in the air as he breathed in, smelling you. his hands – his large, beautiful hands decorated in silver and gold metal – grab at your thighs greedily, as if they were mounds of diamonds and gems instead of flesh. 

“so fucking pretty,” he moaned. his tongue was thick and broad as he licked a stripe up your cunt, from the rim of your hole to your clit. he slurped at your pussy, suckling at your clit. 

“‘gi,” you whined out, your hands darting out to grip at the fur surrounding you. a coat closet wasn’t the sexiest place mingi’s fucked you in, the winning spot being in that balcony pool that overlooked bangkok. 

but there’s something dangerous about it. something dangerous about mingi, his tongue thrusting into your hole and swallowing your juices, with his black smeared eyeshadow and leather outfit. something dangerous about fucking in a coat closet, laying on top of a stranger’s fur coat. 

“say my name,” he groaned out. his voice was deep usually, but now it seemed to come out from his gut, deep within. “tell me, baby.”

you couldn’t help tossing your leg over his shoulder, your skirt falling the rest of the way off of your ankle from where he had shoved it down. with your leg over his shoulder you brought him closer, hugging him between your other leg and your thigh, tight around his broad shoulders. 

he laughed into your cunt, fingers digging into your skin. “that’s it baby,” he said. you could barely make out his facial features – the sharp cut of his eyes, the plushness of his mouth. his eyebrow ring glinted in the faint light, a silent siren song. 

“suffocate me,” he said. he brought his face back to your pussy, speaking into your cunt, nose sliding up between your lips. “trap me, baby.”

you dug your heel into his back. he was still entirely dressed and so were you, save for your skirt and panties. but it was so unfair. you could count the amount of times you saw mingi naked on one hand, the amount you got to treasure the wide panes of his shoulders and slim curves of his waist even less. 

with your thighs around his head, keeping him trapped, mingi got back to work. 

he dug a single finger into your pussy as he lapped at your clit. mingi ate messily. he smeared his mouth over your cunt, pressed his face flat against your pussy. he devoted himself to eating cunt like he did racing. 

he’s a golden racer, you thought, but if it was a challenge between which he did better, racing or eating cunt, he’d have to settle for being silver. 

mingi angled his finger up. his single finger was long enough to where he didn’t really have to search for your g-spot, finding that sweet little treasure easily. he didn’t do anything other than press against it, rubbing it. 

he didn’t need to do much with his finger. 

he was doing above and beyond with his mouth. 

“fucking get me wet,” he mumbled out, tongue dipping out to trace against the muscle surrounding your clit. “come on, baby. baptize me.”

mingi pressed a kiss to your clit, and then he was ducking down to your hole again. you were clenching fervently around his finger, begging for more. you needed more. no matter what was going on outside – no matter why you were at the party in the first place, no matter that your boss wanted to kill his and serve his fucking head on a plate – 

mingi shoved his tongue in beside his finger. he shoved his spit inside, drenching himself further. his nose poked and prodded at your clit with every movement of his face, though it wasn’t true stimulation like what he was providing before. 

he suckled at your hole; lapped at it. mingi was a dehydrated man stumbling through the desert, your cunt an oasis. 

you could feel your juices slide down your ass, could feel them smear along your inner thighs as mingi moved to press quick, hot kisses to them before he dove back to your pussy. 

he always made you feel so hot. not sexy – well that too, with how he always acted as if he was starving for your cunt – but overwhelmed. like you were an asteroid streaking through the night sky, hurtling straight toward the ground at the speed of light. 

when your phone vibrated beside you, you were so startled you jumped in mingi’s hold. he let out a muffled noise, and then he was lifting his face from between your legs. 

you grappled for a moment, and then you grabbed your phone. the light of your phone pierced through the darkness of the room, making you squint against the harshness. 

“fuckin’ boss,” you slurred out, half-drunk on mingi. “wanting me.”

mingi let out a chuckle. then he was pressing a fervent kiss to your thigh. “gonna make you cum first,” he announced. 

“you won’t be able to fuck me,” you said, spreading your legs out for him. 

he shrugged, moving each of your legs over a shoulder. “you’ll owe me,” he decided. “you’ll be at the race the yontararak princess is hosting, yeah?”

“minnie isn’t a princess.”

mingi shrugged. “wears a fucking crown, don’t she?”

“that was once,” you said. 

mingi slapped two of his fingers against your thigh. “answer me. will you be there or not?”

“that’s two months away,” you said. “a lot can happen in two months, mingi. especially in our line of work.”

mingi ducked his head. in a rare display of – you don’t even know what to call it. adoration? admiration? devotion? posession? mingi bit at your thigh, his teeth settling into your skin. 

you jumped beneath him, thighs going tight around his head. he released your thigh, pressing a heavy, hot kiss to the skin before rolling his tongue over the mark. 

“meet me at the princess’s party,” he instructed you. “and you’ll pay me back.”

mingi went back to your cunt. your pussy was tacky from where your fluids had begun to dry, but he paid it no mind. he held your thighs in a tight grip as he licked broad stripes up your pussy, ignoring your clit in favor of swallowing the delicious combination of your cunt juices and his spit. 

he was a sinner before a god like this, vehement with his desperation to devour you. he’d swallow you whole, you knew, if he could; if you allowed him. 

mingi slid two of his fingers into your pussy, not at all gentle. he rocked them in bluntly, your hole burning with the pleasure-pain of your cunt hurriedly trying to accommodate the intrusion. 

then he was lapping at your clit brutally, and you came with a muffled whine. 

it was that deafening orgasm that always seemed to overcome you whenever you were with mingi. it was the ocean waves breaking against a cliff; thunder clapping down against a tree, igniting it. it was harsh and beautiful, and you arched up into his hold with desire eclipsing all over thought. 

mingi turned on the flashlight on his phone to search for your skirt while you panted, reeling from your orgasm. you watched as he shifted around. his face was entirely destroyed. it shined with your pussy juices, from his neck to his jaw to his nose. the black eyeshadow around his eyes was smeared down his cheeks, and when you looked down at your thighs you could see proof of your treachery there, the black powder stained into your skin. 

“baby,” he said, and then he was slipping your panties over your feet. 

“don’t you wanna keep them?” you asked, minding casting back to remember all the other instances where mingi had pocked your panties. “white not your color?”

mingi laughed. you could feel his rings as he slid your panties up your legs and to your thighs. “we’re in a dog house,” he mumbled, voice somewhat hoarse. “not having you prance around, flashing your pussy. bastards might get ideas.”

“ideas.”

“like taking what’s mine,” mingi said, snapping the band of your panties once they were settled around your hips. the cloth was cool from the air of the room, and you hated how it settled around the tackiness of your dried juices. “nothing put puppies eager for a cunt.”

“says the wolf who just kneeled in front of my cunt for fifteen minutes,” you giggled, kicking his side. 

“different,” mingi said. he didn’t offer any explanation. instead he grabbed your skirt. he dressed you in it, too, though he bent over to press a quick kiss to your clothed pussy before pulling it all the way up. 

with expert hands mingi fixed your makeup to the best of his ability. he helped settle your hair, adjust your clothes. 

“how do i look?”

he raised his brows, glancing you up and down. “like you were fucked,” he said. “but not like half the fucking people in this damn house aren’t doing the same.”

mingi agreed to wait five minutes after you left the coat closet to exit, and then you were standing up from the fur-covered chair. you wobbled, and he reached out to steady you, still kneeling. 

you laughed a little. you reached out, tugging at his hair. “if only they knew,” you said, “underworld champion biker, song mingi, kneeling at the feet of choi seungcheol’s secretary.”

mingi looked up at you, and for a moment you let your brain conjure: a reality where instead of the black diamond tattoo underneath your ear you had mingi’s initials; where instead of girls and boys wearing slutty dresses and skirts hanging off of mingi whenever he won a race it was you; where you didn’t have blood on your hands and he wasn’t under the authority of kim hongjoong. 

but then you gently pushed him back, taking your phone in hand and making for the door. 

[ink-n-shadow]

after the day i’ve had, i’m thinking about owner!ghost just taking care of me)):

NO MORE TEARS

𝜗𝜚 the one where you have a bad day and owner!ghost is more than happy to take care of you

𝜗𝜚 pairing: owner!ghost x puppy!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: no explicit smut but allusions to smut themes (so minors—DNI). obvious dom/sub dynamics, pet play, mentions of collars, subspace in play but not explicitly mentioned, sweet!owner!ghost, very self-indulgent work, unedited as usual

owner!ghost knows as soon as you fumble your way through the front door of your shared flat that you��d had a bad day. he can see it all over your face—the way your eyebrows are furrowed and pinched in the middle of your forehead, how the corners of your lips are tugged down, posture slumped and eyes blinking sleepily over at him.

his hands are on you as soon as he crosses the living room to meet you at the door, pushing loose strands of hair away from your face and letting his thumbs sweep gently across the planes of your cheeks. “there’s my pretty girl—y’ alright? did’ya ‘ave a bad day, baby?”

and ghost lets you get it all out of your system, listening to you rant and rave all the while running his hands up and down your arms in a soothing attempt to quell the rising tide of emotions inside of you. as the tears begin welling in your lash line, his thumb reaches up to brush gently against the necklace you always wear around your neck.

to the outside world, it looks like a simple piece of jewelry, small gold rectangular links (or silver links, depending on your metal preference) looped infinitely around your neck with no clasp. forever locked around your throat—well, at least until ghost decides it's time for you to get a new one, then he's got you kneeling between his thighs and gently snipping the necklace from your throat just to weld another one on the very next day.

the slight brush against the necklace is enough to have a hiccuping sob rip from your chest, lurching forward instinctively and burying your face into the soft wool covering ghost's chest.

"shhh, shhh—s' alright, baby. no more tears, hmm? you're 'ome now," and owner!ghost is immediately sweeping you up in his arms, one hand secured beneath your bum and the other buried in your trestles of hair. “lemme take care of ya, yeah? make it all go away?”

words seem to escape you now, the stress and panic and dread from the day melting away from you as soon as you’re wrapped up in ghost’s arms. an almost pitiful whimper leaves your mouth in response, sounding almost unhuman as it exits your lips and melts into the air around you.

but it doesn’t deter owner!ghost or make him worried—no, he’s become quite acquainted with that kind of noise.

“s’fine, pup. y’ know ‘ow to ask me,” ghost murmurs softly into your ear as he slowly begins moving the two of you down the hallway towards your bedroom. there’s a soft curl of his lips when he feels the way you nose at his jaw twice, a signal he was all but extremely aware of. and once owner!ghost enters the bedroom, he’s setting you down onto the floor, careful not to bruise your knees as he helps you into a kneeling position before him.

ghost cradles your face in the palm of one of his large hands, thumb catching the stray tears dripping down your cheeks as a gentle smile stretches his lips at the way your teary eyes stare up at him adoringly. he can see the imaginary tail between your legs wagging slightly, hesitant to get too excited before being given permission.

“you’re absolutely sure, baby? more than ‘appy to just talk everythin' out while we have a cuddle,” ghost asks one last time, eyebrow quirked and expression as serious as his tone of voice. he always did one last check, one last verification that this is what you needed in that moment. and the second your chin dips down in a firm nod and the word ‘yes’ slips from your tongue, owner!ghost is slotting his lips against yours in a possessive and slightly messy kiss, keeping a firm grip on your cheeks to push your lips into a pout. once he pulls away and leaves you feeling dizzy, he pats your cheek firmly, gesturing to the end of the bed.

“be a good dog ‘nd find yer collar for me, then.”

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[shortnotsweet]

This technically applies to my Stepmother AU in which Alicent is around six years older than Rhaenyra, and occupies a wicked stepmother role as opposed to ex ‘friends-to-first loves-to-enemies’. Despite lacking the foundation of shared girlhood, both find simultaneous comfort and rivalry in one another, and undergo a gravitational pull. A young Rhaenyra’s eagerness to participate in swordplay and political affairs at a young is accommodated for, and she grows up with a sword in one hand and the weight of experience in another, which further helps pave her way to the throne.

Alicent’s Costuming

Alicent’s clothing is almost entirely bottle, emerald, or forest green. While there is layering present in her skirts and jackets, the accent should always be a darker green than the base color. The fabric is deep, rich, and retains an undeniably high-quality luster. Look to velvets and silks. Gold embroidery lingers around her sleeves, neck, and hemline to elevate the coloring.

Metallic embellishments should be almost military-like, and appear heavy. Contribute to the imagery of chains or shackles in addition to her status

Draws inspiration from historically accurate stiffness and Victorian shapes, with a tapered waist, imposing, puffy sleeves, and a high neckline. Despite inaccuracies, this shape is evocative of someone elegantly and conservatively feminine, repressed, and capable of exerting power over others. Reference a classic, trussed hourglass shape. Skirts should be notably heavy and full; may make noise in movement

The coloring and shapes remain relatively consistent but lack variation; this is to demonstrate a lack of freedom and exploration, as well as an adherence to conventional feminine roles

Despite these limitations, her costuming should always be put-together, coordinated, and unquestionably fashionable. Tight sleeve cuffs may be accompanied by a more traditionally medieval fan sleeve

Shoes should stick mostly to slippers, or flat designs

In this AU, her hair leans more towards a dark brown instead of auburn, as her show counterpart. This is mostly due to faux-book accuracy and to simplify the sketch process, since keeping her hair darker in comparison to Rhaenyra’s lighter hair translates more easily in uncolored renderings.

Keep her hair either in a tidy bun or pulled back and loose; avoid too many intricate shapes, braids, or styles. Occasionally, the hair will hang loose. Lean into medieval or royal headpieces, clips, coverings, etc.

Rhaenyra’s Costuming

Rhaenyra’s clothes are primarily black and red, occasionally accented or substituted with neutrals such as beige, white, or gray. Exceptions may include blue or yellow, but she generally stays in this color palette.

Strong focus is drawn to her shoulders and neckline, sometimes with embroidered or embellished detailing. She often has strong, angular shoulders in her dresses or jackets, occasionally theatrically pointed. Off-the shoulder necklines emphasize her collarbones and a certain broadness.

There should be decent variety in her clothing; there is a hypothetical outfit for every occasion and more (for battle, for riding, everyday, formal, feasts, everyday, etc.), and most should be composed of multiple pieces and utilize generous layering. This includes under-fabric, belts and corsets, jackets and doublets, draped fabric for aesthetic purpose, and even functional capes.

Most of her clothes should provide visual aid for movement; additional fabric to her skirts, for example. Her clothes should be highly stylized but still easy to move in. In riding and battle gear, it is presumed that she wears pants and boots under her skirts, even if they are not visible.

Shoes lean more into boot cuts, still practical but should have a sleek and uniform quality to them. When she walks, she should make some kind of noise. Shoes should usually be black or potentially red, the latter for decorative purposes.

Overall her style should be more contemporary and lean into the fantasy element. She’s not opposed to oriental details or showing skin, and her costumes should reflect both couture-height drama and period-reliant aspects. Longer lines and diagonal hems mean she is not as devoted to an hourglass shape, and her high collars should always be decorative in some respect.

Keep her hair long and mostly loose, sometimes pulled back. Small braids should be implied as incorporated. Occasional hairstyles feature complicated braids. With the exception of highly decorative braided styles, simple buns should be avoided unless accompanied with very high necklines.

Avoid headpieces that are not either a) her crown or b) ceremonial.

[autonomyofadeer]

sevika and her baby ✧.*

16+

plot: sevika stumbles upon a hidden gem inside the brothel. who is to deny her her fun after a long day?

tags: genderless, zaun au, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, ribbon tying, spanking, sevika x reader, fem bodied reader

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it's currently 10:04 pm, the brothel has been slow today for some odd reason. people whisper about a brawl that happened between silco's men and some barkeep, but i pay no mind. babette suddenly knocks on the wall to my room.

"y/n? there's a customer here for you." babette tells you, a sly hint of hesitancy in her tone. why was babette nervous? there was no time to be thinking these dumb questions, i had a client.

"thank you ma'am." i reply hastily. i jump out of bed, slipping on my fox mask, orange with hints of gold lacing along the edges. i tighten my black and gold corset, pulling the strings to cinch my waist. lastly i slip on my heels and i lie on the bed waiting.

after a few minutes, loud footsteps could be heard from across the hall. until they stopped at your room. a metallic hand pulls aside the curtain. my eyes go wide. it was the all known sevika, the woman that men scattered in the streets from. the most well known and powerful woman in all of zaun was now in your room, wanting your time.

"so.. what's your name doll?" sevika says, the words dripping from her tongue like pure honey. she strides towards me until shes stopped at the foot of my bed.

my mouth seems to go dry, my tongue being stuck in my mouth and suddenly i no longer know what to say. i have to admit, i was frightened of her and of all the stories ive heard.

"hm? cat's got your tongue? too bad.. wish i could hear your beautiful voice." sevika replies to herself, cupping my chin in her hand as she slips off my mask. she runs her fingers over my lips as a prompt. i slack my jaw and she easily slips her fingers into my mouth. i circle her thumb with my tongue, suckling slightly on it.

"jus' like that doll." she murmurs to me as she presses her thumb flat on my tongue, causing me to gag.

"such a pretty thing" she says to me as she moves over to the table of toys. "too bad you'll be ruined once im done with you." she tells me as one last warning. she grabs a set of ribbon ties and a blindfold.

my eyes flutter at the items she picks up. "y/n." i stammer out, "my name is y/n" i tell her as she moves back to the bed. i move into the middle of the bed as she kneels at the edge of it.

"such a pretty name for a pretty lass like you, yeah?" she tells me, my face going a pale pink. she suddenly pulls my wrist, spinning me around and onto my stomach. my face was now shoved into the pillow. i try to ask what shes doing, but it's to no avail.

she ties the ribbon around my wrists, binding my arms behind my back. suddnely she pulls my head up by my hair, a pained grunt escapes my lips. a silk blindfold is slipped over my eyes. the world goes dark.

metal clanking can be heard behind me, suddenly im spun around onto my back. god i wish i could see what she looks like, i start to imagine her body.. toned abs? c or d cup? what scars does she have? and suddenly i feel a little too damp in my underwear.

sevika moves closer to me, my lower half now balanced on her thighs. a ripping sound of fabric is heard as my underwear is shredded with her knife. "just trust me, okay?" she whispers into my ear before a moan is ripped from my throat.

her fingers pinch and rub at my clit as moans slip from my lips. everything seemed heightened due to the blindfold. i needed more- i needed her. i move my hips up closer to her, whimpering for more.

"so needy" she mumbles before giving a small slap to my clit. a strangled moan escapes my mouth.

suddenly all friction is moved away for a few minutes until i feel her hot mouth on my peppled nipple. i arch my back, up and into her mouth. small and soft grunts come from her mouth, only spurring me on. after a while of abuse to my breasts, a sharp stretching pain takes control of my body.

she easily plunged 2 of her thick, warm fingers into my dampness. i wince at the pain, but it quickly subsides as she starts rubbing my clit with her other hand. i go to say something, but im quickly cut off as she curls her fingers up and into just the right spot.

my vision goes white for a hot second until i feel her dragging her fingers in and out of me. every few seconds she curls her fingers inside of me.

"please- shit- sev!" i quickly moan out as i start to feel my orgasm approach. i start to grind my hips against her fingers, my thighs clamping around her waist.

"jus' a little more. almost there." she reassures me as she quickens her pace.

sharp and loud moans are drawn from my lips as i feel hot liquid drip down my core, i squirted all over her shirt and pants. a soft moan can be heard from her lips.

i groan at the loss of sensation as she pulls her fingers out, i can hear her licking my juices off her fingers. the dip at the edge of the bed suddenly dissapears as she gets up.

a damp and cold cloth strokes against my clit, sending a jolt down my spine. "easy, im jus' cleaning you up." she coos to me.

next thing i know the binds on my arms are coming undone, falling down at my sides. i pull them to my stomach as i rub the leftover marks where the ribbon was. i take off my blindfold to thank her for her service, but the curtain was already shut. she had disapeared like most of my usual customers. three silver and a bronze coin lay at my desk.

i wonder if i'll ever see her again.

thank you for reading if you got this far! this is my first post, not sure if ill do more. just depends on if people like my writing!