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dresshistorynerd · 2 years ago

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So I got this tag on my answer to an ask about when it became acceptable for western women to wear pants, and you know it's all I need to go on a tangent.

I think the short answer here would be men have worn skirts as long as people have worn anything, so pretty long tbh. But since I am incapable of answering anything shortly, I think we can re-frame this question:

When did skirts stop being socially acceptable for men?

So let's start with acknowledging that tunics, togas, kirtles and such men wore through history were, in fact, skirts. I think there's often a tendency to think of these as very different garments from those that women wore, but really they are not. Most of the time they were literally referred to with the same name. (I will do a very broad and simplified overview of men's clothing from ancient times to Early Middle Ages so we can get to the point which is Late Middle Ages.)

Ancient Greek men and women both wore chitons. Even it's length wasn't determined by gender, but by occupation. Athletes, soldiers and slaves wore knee-length chitons for easier movement. Roman men and women wore very similar garment, tunics. Especially in earlier ancient Rome long sleeves were associated with women, but later became more popular and unconventional for men too. Length though was still dependent on occupation and class, not gender. Toga was sure men's clothing, but worn over tunic. It was wrapped around the waist, like a dress would, and then hung over shoulder. Romans did wear leggings when they needed to. For example for leg protection when hunting as in this mosaic from 4th century. They would have been mostly used by men since men would be doing the kinds of activities that would require them. But that does not lessen the dressyness of the tunics worn here. If a woman today wears leggings under her skirt, the skirt doesn't suddenly become not a skirt.

All over Europe thorough the early Middle Ages, the clothes were very similar in their basic shape and construction as in Rome and Greece. In Central and Northern Europe though people would wear pants under shorter tunics. There were exceptions to the everyone wearing a tunic trend. Celtic men wore braccae, which were pants, and short tunics and literally just shirts. Celts are the rare case, where I think we can say that men didn't wear dresses. Most other peoples in these colder areas wore at least knee-length tunics. Shorter tunics and trousers were worn again mostly by soldiers and slaves, so rarely any other woman than slave women. The trousers were though definitely trousers in Early Middle Ages. They were usually loose for easier construction and therefore not that similar to Roman leggings. However leggings style fitted pants were still used, especially by nobility. I'd say the loose trousers are a gray area. They wore both dresses and pants, but still definitely dresses. I'd say this style was very comparable to the 2000s miniskirts over jeans style. First one below is a reconstruction of Old Norse clothing by Danish history museum. The second is some celebrity from 2005. I see no difference.

When we get to the high Middle Ages tunics are still used by both men and women, and still it's length is dependent on class and activity more than gender, but there's some new developments too. Pants and skirt combo is fully out and leggings' are back in in form of hose. Hose were not in fact pants and calling them leggings is also misleading. Really they are socks. Or at least that's how they started. As it has become a trend here they were used by everyone, not just men. During early Middle Ages they were worn often with the trousers, sometimes the trousers tucked inside them making them baggy. In high Middle Ages they became very long when used with shorter tunics, fully displacing the need for trousers. They would be tied to the waist to keep them up, as they were not knitted (knitting was being invented in Egypt around this time, and some knitting was introduced to Europe during middle Ages, but it really only took off much later during Renaissance Era) and therefore not stretchy. First picture is an example of that from 1440s. Another exciting development in the High Medieval era was bliaut in France and it's sphere of influence. Bliaut was an early attempt in Europe of a fitted dress. And again used by both men and women. The second illustration below from mid 12th century shows a noble man wearing a bliaut and nicely showing off his leg covered in fitted hose. Bliaut was usually likely fitted with lacing on the sides, but it wasn't tailored (tailoring wasn't really a thing just yet) and so created a wrinkled effect around the torso.

In the 14th century things really picked up in European fashion. European kingdoms finally started to become richer and the rich started to have some extra money to put into clothing, so new trends started to pop up rapidly. Tailoring became a thing and clothes could be now cut to be very fitted, which gave birth to fitted kirtle. At the same time having extra money meant being able to spend extra money on more fabric and to create very voluminous clothing, which gave birth to the houppelande.

Kirtle was once again worn by everyone. It wasn't an undergarment, for women that would be shift and men shirt and breeches, but it was an underlayer. It could be worn in public but often had at least another layer on top of it. The bodice part, including sleeves were very fitted with lacing or buttons (though there were over-layer kirtles that had different sleeves that changed with fashions and would be usually worn over a fitted kirtle). Men's kirtles were short, earlier in 14th century knee-length but towards the end of the century even shorter styles became fashionable in some areas. First picture below shows a man with knee-length kirtle from 1450s Italy.

Houppelande was also unisex. It was a loose full-length overgown with a lot of fabric that was gathered on the neckline and could be worn belted or unbelted. The sleeves were also wide and became increasingly wider (for men and women) later in the century and into the next century. Shorter gowns similar in style and construction to the houppelande were also fashionable for men. Both of these styles are seen in the second picture below from late 14th century.

In the very end of 14th century, first signs of pantification of men can be seen. In France and it's sphere of influence the skirt part of the kirtle became so short it barely covered the breeches as seen below on these fashionable musicians from 1395-1400 France. Long houppelandes, length ranging from floor to calf, were still used by men though (the second picture, 1414 France), as were knee and thigh length gowns of similar loose style.

The hems continued to be short through the 15th century in France, but in other places like Italy and German sphere of influence, they were still fairly long, at least to mid thigh, through the first half of the century. In France at some point in late 13th century the very short under-kirtle started to be called doublet and they are just getting shorter in 1400s. The showing underwear problem was fixed by joined hose and the codpiece, signaling the entrance of The Sluttiest Era of men's fashion. Below is an example from 1450s Belgium of doublet and early codpiece in display. As you can see from the other figures, the overgowns of the previous century were also getting very, very short. In the next French example below from 1470s we can see the skirt shrink out of existence right before our eyes.

The very skimpy doublet and it's accompanying codpiece spread to the rest of the Europe in the second half of 15th century and it would only get sluttier from there. The Italians were just showing their full ass (example from 1490s). The dress was not gone yet though. The doublet and codpiece continued to be fashionable, but the overdress got longer again in the French area too. For example in the second example there's Italian soldiers in a knee length dresses from 1513.

But we have to talk about the Germans. They went absolutely mad with the whole doublet and codpiece. Just look at this 1513 painting below (first one). But they did not only do it sluttier than everyone else, they also changed the course of men's fashion.

Let's take a detour talking about the Landsknecht, the mercenary pikeman army of the Holy Roman Empire. (I'm not that knowledgeable in war history so take my war history explanation with a grain of salt.) Pikemen had recently become a formidable counter-unit against cavalry, which earlier in the Medieval Era had been the most important units. Knights were the professional highly trained cavalry, which the whole feudal system leaned against. On the other hand land units were usually not made of professional soldiers. Landsknecht were formed in late 15th century as a professional army of pikemen. They were skilled and highly organized, and quickly became a decisive force in European wars. Their military significance gave them a lot of power in the Holy Roman Empire, some were even given knighthood, which previously wasn't possible for land units, and interestingly for us they were exempt from sumptuary laws. Sumptuary laws controlled who could wear what. As the bourgeois became richer in Europe in late Middle Ages and Renaissance Era, laws were enacted to limit certain fabrics, colors and styles from those outside nobility, to uphold the hierarchy between rich bourgeois and the nobles. The Landsknecht, who were well payed mercenaries (they would mutiny, if they didn't get payed enough), went immediately absolute mad with the power to bypass sumptuary laws. Crimes against fashion (affectionate) were committed. What do you do, when you have extra money and one of your privileges is to wear every color and fabric? You wear every color and fabric. At the same time. You wear them on top of each other and so they can be seen at the same time, you slash the outer layer. In the second image you can feast your eyes on the Landsknecht.

Just to give you a little more of that good stuff, here's a selection of some of my favorite Landsknecht illustrations. This is the peak male performance. Look at those codpieces. Look at those bare legs. The tiny shorts. And savor them.

The Landsknecht were the hot shit. Their lavish and over the top influence quickly took over men's fashion in Germany in early 1500s. Slashing, the technique possibly started by them, but at least popularized by them, instantly spread all over Europe. That's how you get the typical Renaissance poof sleeves. They at first slashed the thighs of their hose, but it seems like to fit more of everything into their outfits, they started wearing the hose in two parts, upper hose and nether hose, which was a sort of return to the early Medieval trousers and knee-high hose style. The two part hose was adopted by the wider German men's fashion early in the century, but already in 1520s had spread to rest of Europe. It was first combined with the knee-length overdress that had made it's comeback in the turn of the century, like in this Italian painting from 1526 (first image). At this point knitting had become established and wide-spread craft in Europe and the stockings were born, replacing nether hose. They were basically nether hose, but from knitted fabric. The gown shortened again and turned into more of a jacket as the trunk hose became increasingly the centerpiece of the outfit, until in 1560s doublet - trunk hose combination emerged as the standard outerwear (as seen in the second example, 1569 Netherlands) putting the last nail on the coffin of the men's dress as well as the Sluttiest Era. The hose and doublet became profoundly un-slutty and un-horny, especially when the solemn Spanish influence spread all over with it's dark and muted colors.

Especially in Middle Ages, but thorough European history, trousers have been associated with soldiers. The largely accepted theory is that trousers were invented for horse riding, but in climates with cold winters, where short skirts are too cold, and long skirts are still a hazard when moving around, trousers (with or without a short skirt) are convenient for all kinds of other movement requiring activities like war. So by adopting hose as general men's clothing, men in 1500s associated masculinity with militarism. It was not a coincidence that the style came from Landsknecht. I may have been joking about them being "peak male performance", but really they were the new masculine ideals for the new age. At the time capitalism was taking form and European great powers had begun the process of violently conquering the world for money, so it's not surprising that the men, who fought for money and became rich and powerful doing so, were idealised.

Because of capitalism and increasingly centralized power, the feudal system was crumbling and with it the feudal social hierarchy. Capitalism shifted the wealth from land ownership (which feudal nobility was built upon) to capital and trade, deteriorating the hierarchy based on land. At the same time Reformation and centralized secular powers were weakening the power of the Church, wavering also the hierarchy justified by godly ordain. The ruling class was not about to give up their power, so a new social hierarchy needed to form. Through colonialism the concept of race was created and the new hierarchy was drawn from racial, gender and wealth lines. It was a long process, but it started in 1500s, and the increasing distinction between men's and women's fashions was part of drawing those lines. At the same time distinctions between white men and racialized men, as well as white women and racialized women were drawn. As in Europe up until this point, all over the world (with some exceptions) skirts were used by everyone. So when European men fully adopted the trousers, and trousers, as well as their association to military, were equated with masculinity, part of it was to emasculate racialized men, to draw distinctions.

Surprise, it was colonialism all along! Honestly if there's a societal or cultural change after Middle Ages, a good guess for the reason behind it is always colonialism. It won't be right every time, but quite a lot of times. Trousers as a concept is of course not related to colonialism, but the idea that trousers equal masculinity and especially the idea that skirts equal femininity are. So I guess decolonize masculinity by wearing skirts?

#this has been sitting in my drafts almost finished for like a year or something #historical fashion #fashion history #fashion #history #dress history #men's historical fashion #renaissance fashion #medieval fashion #western fashion #western fashion history #landsknecht

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kitten4sannie · 9 months ago

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ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ

ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴘʟᴀʏ/ꜰʟᴏɢɢɪɴɢ ➠ ʏᴜɴʜᴏ/ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ

pairing: enemy emperor! yunho x empress! reader x scribe! yeosang

genre: historical au, smut

summary: you have another tension filled meeting with the stubborn man that wants nothing more than to conquer and own you. your new dedicated scribe records everything.

w.c: 4k

warnings: hard dom! yunho, bratty pillow princess! reader, bricked up witness! yeosang, monster cock alerttt, cnc, light mxm, exhibitionism/voyeurism, name calling/pet names, degradation, dirty talk (this man…he’s so nasty in this i’m not even sorry…), lots of manhandling, spanking/flogging, dacryphilia, half dressed kink idk, spit, hair grabbing, threesome elements, some cucky vibes, a little dash of praise, rough wall sex, creampie, yeosang licks everything up… AHEM, oral (receiving), fingering, cum eating, squirting

a/n: i was extremely high when i wrote this and i am down bad astronomically for yuyu and yeosang so yeah something religious happened to me during the writing process !! i mostly blame it on jackson wang bc that song is sooooo…. rfhhehwh it turns me into a rabid animal ngl anywaysss i hope you enjoy lovelies xx

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ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ʙʏ ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ ᴡᴀɴɢ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

As the empress of your country’s land, it’s always been up to you to partake in the anointed trivialities that required your royal attention. Aside from drawn out, traditional ceremonies to endless horse riding and archery lessons with a seasoned member of the congregation, you spent most of your time having meetings with your supposed suitors, having to listen to their boundless, self-important monologues about their days in battle, coming to know just how much knowledge they held in combat and war strategies, and fighting the urge to pull your hand away when they would hold onto it, pleading you with their eyes for your approval. It all bored you to tears.

Though, there was a particular individual that you couldn’t seem to keep your mind off of, no matter how hard you tried. Jeong Yunho, an emperor from the land that bordered yours. A man from a bloodline that your family had gone to war with many times over the years. Despite that you were quite literally sleeping with the enemy, you couldn’t help yourself. You had never met anyone like him before. Instead of asking and pleading for your attention, time, and body, he simply took it. Took what he wanted from you without a care in the world. He wasn’t even bothered by that fact that your dear scribe still sat in the meeting room with you, hazily scribbling down everything that occurred and what was said, spilling bottles of ink onto his scrolls due to how flustered he was from witnessing the way Yunho forcefully conquered his dear empress with a domineering smirk plastered on his sweaty face, the panting emperor’s cock routinely disappearing underneath your disheveled ceremony garments and into your willing cunt.

“Your Highness, Lord Jeong should be here any second now,” your fresh-faced scribe began from across the meeting room, setting up various sized brushes in a line, smoothing out a few creases he found embedded in the elongated sleeves of his ceremony robe. He suddenly looked up at you, concern present within his widened honey brown eyes. “Should I make more tea?”

“That won’t be necessary, Yeosang, but your intention is very sweet, thank you,” you replied softly, making your way across the room in your heavy garbs, taking the time to run your fingers through your newest scribe’s hair, offering him a smile that made him drop one of his brushes. “Lord Jeong doesn’t drink much tea. He…prefers to get straight to business.”

Yeosang’s smile dropped slightly when your hand left his hair, his eyes traveling your form as you sat on your knees in front of the meeting table, watching you take a sip from your steaming celadon cup and nod your head in approval of the flavor. “Have you considered his marriage requests? I’ve read some of the letters he’s sent to you…” The young scribe blushed suddenly, his eyes lowering to look at the blank spaces on his scrolls. “They’re quite intense. Does that sort of thing interest you?”

You rested your chin inside the palm of your hand, your gold bracelets dangling from your wrist, squinting your eyes at Yeosang, your lips curling up ever so slightly. “It does, very much so. Lord Jeong is one of the most interesting men I’ve come across thus far…I’ve greatly considered his offers, despite him being the enemy.”

Yeosang tilted his head, a few locks of his hair falling into his focused eyes. “If I may ask, your Highness…What’s stopping you from accepting?”

You ran your finger around the rim of your celadon cup, looking at your reflection within the black tea, your smile fading. “I don’t want the excitement to end, Yeosang.” You looked back up at him, unable to keep yourself from smiling gently at his confused expression. “Marriage, as beautiful as it is, brings monotony, which brings contempt…”

“Ahh, I see now,” Yeosang nodded slowly, giving you a sad smile back, feeling like he understood his empress a bit more in that moment. He squeezed his fingers around the intricately carved wooden brush inside his grasp. “Your Highness, may I ask you a question?”

Just as you were about to respond, the large, jewel-encrusted doors of your meeting room opened with a groan. A tall, handsome man dressed in an extravagant, hand-sewn traditional robe came strolling in like he owned the place, holding an expensive mahogany box within his large hands.

“Oh, princess, I’ve brought you a present,” Yunho called out teasingly, walking up to the table. He acknowledged Yeosang’s presence with a nod, who bent over to bow. The confident emperor sat down across from you at the table, his eyes hooded, his lips quirked up perversely as if he was reminiscing about your previous meetings. “Hi. Did you miss me?”

You rolled your eyes, pretending as if you didn’t care about the emperor’s arrival, despite your heart and core throbbing rhythmically from him simply sitting there across from you. “What did you bring me, Yunho?”

“Something that’ll have your little scribe here pulling at his robes when I’m done using it on you…Maybe he’ll even spill his ink all over himself like your last one…” Yunho’s eyes shifted from Yeosang, who gulped, to you, who simply sipped on your tea, his long fingers rubbing along the smooth edges of the mahogany box.

You tilted your head to the side, idly biting at the tip of your manicured nail. “Is that so? Well, get on with it. I’m a busy woman, as you know, and I don’t like when my time is being wasted with nonsense.”

Yunho simply scoffed, shaking his head slightly, sitting there silently for a moment, the only sound in the room being Yeosang’s wet brush expertly sliding across the scroll and your nails tapping against your tea cup.

All you registered was the sight of Yunho swiftly getting up onto his feet and heading in your direction, his feet thumping against the mat below. Before you even realized what was happening, you were laying face down on the table, watching your tea pool out onto the sleek wood, your intricately crafted tea cup now split in individual pieces. Yunho had you held down by the neck, his fingers closing around it, his warm body pressing against yours, able to feel his stiff cock against your ass, even through your thick robes.

He chuckled at the gasp you let out, bringing his lips near your ear to purr huskily, “Am I still wasting your time, princess? Or is getting your little cunt all nice and wet for me something worthwhile?” Instead of letting you answer, Yunho simply reached past you, flipping the boxe’s lid open, bringing it closer for you to take a good look at its contents. Inside the box sat a hand-woven flog, the edges of it decorated with a silver finishing, making it glisten in the light. “Do you like your present? I got it made just for you.” He rubbed his cock along your ass, his free hand roaming over your upper thigh to the curve of your ass. “Can’t you see? I’m in love with you…”

“Oh, please.” As you tried to get up, Yunho pushed his body weight down onto you, holding your wrists down with ease. “Do you really think I’m going to let you use your little toy on me in front of my innocent scribe, Yunho? Who do you think you are?”

“I’m simply a man who’s head over heels for you, Y/N…Take some responsibility…” Yunho quickly reached past your neck and down to your chest to rip open your garments, tugging on them while you continued to resist until your bare body was revealed underneath the many layers.

Yeosang dipped his brush inside the bottle of ink with a shaky hand, his cheeks flushed, unsure if he should speak up, his eyes fixated on you, never having seen you in such an indecent state before. “Sh-should…I keep going, your Highness?”

When Yunho forcefully bent you over his knee and pulled your disheveled robe up to reveal your ass, his large hands squeezing into it, you nodded your head weakly at Yeosang, feeling a bit dizzy from being treated in such a way with your lovely dedicated scribe watching on. “Please, don’t let us stop you from doing your job, Yeosang…you’re doing so well…”

“Thank you, Your Highness…” Yeosang blushed from the praise, dipping his brush back into the ink, before pressing it to the scroll, thankful that his garments were thick enough to cover his stiffening length.

You weren’t able to reply to Yeosang when Yunho abruptly slammed his open palm against the curve of your ass, a moan leaving your lips instead of words. He smacked the other side of your ass to watch it bounce and groped along it, squeezing your sensitive flesh between his slender fingers. “That’s it…just look at that color…Wish you could see it, princess. Shall I add some pretty shades of purple and pink too? You’re my canvas, Y/N…I’m sure you’ll let me paint you with my cum next, right? Just like every time, yeah?”

“Fuck off, Yunho,” you grumbled, attempting to climb out of his lap, throbbing at the feeling of him grabbing you by the waist and holding you still, knowing you couldn’t get away even if you tried.

“You weren’t saying that last time, princess. You were begging me for more…” Yunho picked up the flog, running his fingers along the woven leather, before he cracked it in the air, making Yeosang and you jolt from the sudden loud noise, bringing joy to the emperor. “Take a deep breath for me, Y/N…”

Just as you did so, Yunho brought the flog down onto your ass, watching the individual leather straps leave pretty red marks on your skin, groaning, “So pretty… you’re so pretty for me, princess…” and repeating the motion, lacking the proper self control to stop himself, even when you began to cry, his arm wrapped tightly around your middle.

“F-fuck…! Stop!” You kicked your legs and thrashed around until you were able to wiggle out of his grasp, just barely making it over to Yeosang’s large scribing table, before Yunho slammed you down onto it, knocking over one of the ink bottles with his rough handling of you.

“Crying just for me, princess? You’re making me so hard,” Yunho sighed into your ear, moving closer to your face to lick one of your tears away, his hot breath hitting your cheek, your ass stinging more when he grabbed it roughly, bolts of pleasure shooting into your core.

“You fucking asshole…” you choked out, about to pull yourself up when the emperor pinned your hands painfully behind your back, feeling his knee press in between your thighs.

Yunho tugged more of your garments off without a care in the world, huffing and as he shoved his hand in between your thighs from behind, rubbing two fingers along your clothed cunt, before tearing it off with ease. “Ahh, that’s what I thought…You’re so wet for me, Y/N.” He looked to Yeosang, who was blushing wildly, still just sitting there and haphazardly recording the chaos that was occurring right next to him, knowing it wasn’t his place to interact in any way unless either of you allowed him to. Yunho continued to rub at your cunt, enjoying the noises you and your gushing slit were making. “Hey, scribe, make sure you make a note about how fucking soaked your empress gets from getting manhandled by an enemy emperor. That’s an important detail, isn’t it, princess?”

You struggled underneath the man, starting to feel ink soaking into your expensive garments, some of it staining your cheek. “Yunho, get off of me, or so help me–” You suddenly found yourself gasping for air, having been flogged again, though this time some of the leather straps reached your cunt, feeling it sting pleasurably in between your trembling thighs.

Yunho looked over to Yeosang, who had his fingers clenched around his brush, his free hand in between his clenching thighs. “Hey, Yeosang, do you know why the previous scribe quit?” When he shook his head, Yunho grinned, admiring the pattern of bruises he left on your ass, running his fingers lightly over them. “He couldn’t handle watching his beloved empress cry and take what I so graciously gave her, but you can, can’t you, Yeosang?”

He bit his bottom lip, feeling conflicted, not sure if he should nod or not. He instead looked to you, his eyebrows knitted together with concern. “Your Highness…” Yeosang whispered softly, hesitantly placing one hand on top of yours, holding it tightly.

You looked up at him, smiling gently, blowing a bit of hair out of your hazy eyes, reaching your other hand over to rub the top of his knuckles. “It’s okay, Yeosang…I want this…”

Yunho grabbed you by the hair, forcefully lifting up your head so that he could get a good look at you, practically drooling at this point, his cock throbbing against your backside. “Say that again…Let me hear it…”

You turned your head to look at him, smiling sweetly, before you pursed your lips and sent a wad of spit onto his cheek, satisfied with the way it dripped down along his tightening jaw. “If you hurry up and fuck me instead of continuing on with this bullshit, I’ll think about it.”

Turned on beyond measure, Yunho grabbed your own jaw, forcing it open so that he could send a wad of spit straight down your throat, chuckling darkly at the moan that escaped your parted lips. “This is why you’re my favorite, princess. You’re such a bratty little thing, just aching to be put in your place, huh? You want me to do that? Fuck you into submission in front of your sweet little scribe? Just say the word….”

This time around, Yunho could see the desperation on your flushed face, your lips forming a pout. “Please…” you whined, surprising yourself and the two men watching you with your sudden act of obedience.

“Oh my god, that’s fucking it right there…” Yunho groaned, pulling at the sash wrapped securely around his slim waist and pulling it loose, so that he could gain access to his undergarments, quickly tugging his stiff, leaking cock out. “Do you draw portraits too, scribe? This slut’s pretty face should be kept in the history books…”

Yeosang nervously shook his head, starting to spread the ink across his scroll from watching the way Yunho pushed you up against the wall, so close to Yeosang that his garments spilled into his lap, forcefully wrapping your legs around his waist, just as he fully sheathed himself inside you, your soaked panties pushed to the side.

“No? That’s too bad…Well, at least jot down the fact that I conquer your Highness’s tight little cunt every time I give her a visit…” Yunho huffed out, smiling at you with his canines showing, his hands cemented tightly around your bare waist, bringing himself down to one of your tits to suck it into his open mouth.

“God, will you just–aaah–shut the fuck up and…nnngh…fuck me properly?” you asked in between pants, barely able to take the emperor’s thick, oversized cock without feeling like you were going to break, your nails digging into his straining upper back through his garments, one side of his robe starting to drape off one of his broad shoulders.

“Yeah? You want it rough just like every other time, don’t you, whore?” Yunho groaned against your skin, dragging his tongue up over your spit-laced tit to attack your neck with his lips and teeth, leaving your skin in various shades of red and purple. “Write this down too, scribe. The people should know that this pretty princess can’t cum unless she has a horsecock ramming into her cunt. Isn’t that right, Your Highness?”

You couldn’t even speak at this point, from the way Yunho lifted one leg up onto the scribe table, using the leverage to fuck into you as deep and hard as he could, about to cream yourself from the way he kept you pinned down, just using you like a doll made for his pleasure.

Now almost directly underneath his empress and the enemy emperor’s rapidly joining bodies, Yeosang couldn’t help but look up, fixated on the way your cunt spread open each time Yunho slammed himself inside your clenching hole, feeling a few drops of your mixed arousal drip down onto his face and roll down his warm cheek. He gingerly opened his mouth and held his tongue out, now pressing his brush directly into the soaked paper, leaning his back against the wall behind him, his hand beginning to rub at his pre-cum soaked cock that was still trapped underneath his heavy garments.

“God, you’re so fucking wet, princess…I think I might…slip out…” Yunho sighed heavily against your ear, roughly nibbling it with the aid of one of his canine teeth, slowly sliding his cock out of you and slapping his heavy cock against your abdomen, smearing his pre cum onto your skin.

The feeling of being completely empty just as you were about to cum almost sent you into a full-blown rage, practically ready to start another war with Yunho if he didn’t stick his cock back inside you. You abruptly grabbed him by the hair, clutching a tuft of his damp icy blond locks, leaning in so that your lips ghosted his. “Fuck me, you goddamn bastard. Make me cum.”

This time Yunho didn’t play any games, simply rubbing his cockhead back and forth over your throbbing clit just to make you shudder against him, before he slipped back inside, immediately pounding himself into you, essentially leaving you breathless. “Look at you just taking it, princess… I know it’s big…You’re doing so well for me…taking it so good, princess…I’m so proud…”

The sudden bout of praise coming from the enemy in such a sickly sweet tone, especially while he began to pump hot loads of cum into you, sent you barreling over the edge, not doing your dear scribe any favors when you began to babble nonsensically, tears beginning to fall from your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body.

“Yeahhh, take it, princess…I’m gonna knock you up so you have to marry me.” Yunho chuckled darkly, his fingers squeezing into your hips, pressing a rough kiss to your lips, biting at your bottom lip before he pulled away.

“You’re disgusting,” you huffed, grimacing at him, despite the fact that your thighs were still trembling.

“Don’t say that, princess,” Yunho whined, leaning his forehead against yours, slowly pulling out inch by inch. “You know how hard that makes me…” He looked down to Yeosang, who was breathing heavily underneath the both of you, his mouth agape, splashes of arousal decorating his pretty, flushed face and damp hair. “Hey, scribe, you’ve been a good boy just sitting here and watching the whole time. You want a taste of your Highness’s used cunt?”

Feeling sufficiently dizzy, Yeosang looked to you for approval, feeling his cock pulse at your slow dazed nod, bringing his hands up to your thighs to caress them, bringing his lips up to kiss and lick at the wetness around your cunt with a gentleness that would’ve had you collapsing if your legs weren’t securely hooked over Yunho’s shoulders.

“Make sure you get it all…” Yunho murmured softly, completely pulling out of you with a wet, shlick sound, dribbles of his cum beginning to gush out of your gaping hole, allowing Yeosang to collect it inside his drooling mouth. Yunho brought a free hand to Yeosang’s head, holding him against your cunt, finding great joy in the desperate, sloppy manner in which he ate you out, like a delirious, thirsty man that had just found a hidden oasis.

It was when Yeosang slipped his slender fingers deep inside your pulsing cunt, his hot mouth closed around your sensitive clit, that you began to whine and whimper, one arm hooked around Yunho’s neck for support, your free hand going down to grab onto Yeosang’s hair when Yunho let go, gazing down to find him already looking up at you with half closed eyes.

“It’s so good, you’re so good for me, Yeosang, I’m going to…oh my god…”

Yeosang clutched one side of your bruised ass with one hand, curling three of his fingers inside you and rubbing them against your clenching walls, lapping at your clit, his thighs closing together, his cheeks bright red from the praise.

All the while, Yunho simply watched on, his chest swelling with pride, occasionally leaving kisses and licks on your straining, marked-up neck. “Cum for him, will you, princess? Won’t you soak his pretty face with your squirt?”

Having your lovely scribe in between your legs, eating your cunt like it was his assigned job to do so, having your sworn enemy pressing his heated, sweaty body against yours, more filthy words leaving his lips for your shared pleasure was all far too much. “Yeosang…!”

Yeosang found himself being covered in a warm spray of liquid, tasting your squirt on his tongue, closing his eyes for a moment to bask in the pleasure of it all, opening them back up just in time for you to pull him into your arms, your bare body against his half-dressed one. “Your Highness…”

“I didn’t mean to do such a dirty thing to you, Yeosang, I’m so sorry…” You used your sleeves to wipe some of the wetness away from his face, blushing more than you had during the whole night.

“Your Highness…” he repeated, softer this time, giving you a shy smile, pulling his robe apart until you could see what he had done to himself.

Your eyes widened at the milky stains of cum splattered across the insides of his ceremonial garments, looking back up into his eyes, returning his shy smile. “If I had known you had such an affinity for me, I wouldn’t have looked for suitors this long. Who needs them when I have you?”

Yeosang reached up to hold his heated cheeks, dumbfounded by the string of events, unable to believe that his beloved empress could feel such a way about him. “It’d be an honor to always be by your side…”

You giggled, reaching up to place a hand over his, your thumb brushing over his pretty birthmark.

Yunho cleared his throat, running his fingers through his sweaty hair, his robe already wrapped ornately around his body, looking like he did when he first entered the meeting room, besides the afterglow he was now sporting. “I’d love to stay here longer and experience this beautiful moment with you both, but my job here is done.” He patted both of your heads, as if he were a proud father, before heading taking a few elegant strides towards the door. Before he left, he turned back to look at you, his tongue poking into one of his canine teeth, giving you a shit-eating smirk. “Until next time, princess.”

“There isn’t going to be a next time,” you muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes, your arms still around Yeosang, watching your smug enemy leave the room with a soft chuckle.

Yeosang chuckled softly, reaching up to run his fingers through your hair, feeling confident enough to share his thoughts with you. “Now, let’s not kid ourselves, Your Highness.”

“Heyyy,” you whined, giving him a pout, watching him pick up his drying brush up from the table. “Don’t you dare write that down.” When he motioned to dip his brush into the spilled ink, you hugged onto him from the side. “Yeosangggg, I’m still your empress!”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you rested your chin on his shoulder. “By the way, what was that question you wanted to ask me?”

Yeosang gulped, studying the ink-stained table below for a second, before turning his head to look at you, your faces just centimeters away from one another. “Will you replace me one day, Your Highness?”

Your eyes widened slightly, taking in your scribe’s vulnerability, wanting to return the same energy to him, as he was deserving of it. “Never, Yeosang. You’re here to stay.”

Yeosang blushed fervently, dropping the brush back down to hug you into his arms, nuzzling your neck gently, his hair tickling your skin, about to melt inside his empress’s grasp. “Promise?”

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, pressing your lips to his cheek, waiting for him to look back into your eyes to whisper, “Promise.”

FFF taglist: @itza-meee @chnt1 @k-hotchoisan @wonyobie @vampiregirl215 @christmastodoroki @luvt0kki @goldnhwa @choisanboobenthusiast @icyb3rry @maximofftrash @choism @yunhosmelonbar @nebulousbookshelf @astayinwonderland @slutologyy @10nantscompanion @ddaeing @pandagirl-016 @horanghae8 @smally97 @ateezzzser @bubblegumbird @midnightmaja @i2nsstuff @asimpelslut @wisejudgedragonhairdo @deathbyyeekies @firefox79 @wildesreblogs @everyonewooeverywhere @raspberrysannie @channiespup @abby-grace @seonghwaddict @mxnsxngie @jeongwangjessmina

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#cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #wonderlandnet #ateez #ateez smut #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #yunho smut #yeosang smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic

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darkmold · 19 days ago

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BG3 characters + mundane parenting because I’m mental illness coded

Warnings: babies I guess, it’s not specified how they and Tav acquired the baby (could’ve been theft), I liked this lemme know if anyone wants an npc edition, got depressed on Karlach’s entry oops-

Astarion

He requires very little sleep, so he’s typically on nightshift with the baby. If the little one fusses, he’d rather be the one to handle it than have his poor, tired partner wake up. Sometimes if the baby is being particularly clingy or petulant, he’ll take one of that week’s sewing projects into the nursery to keep himself entertained while he sits by their crib. Sewing project is usually a new garment for the baby- they grow too fast to keep up with.

Halsin

Halsin has wanted kids for so long but never allowed himself to settle down. You know he’s never putting that baby down. Carries them in a sling all day long sometimes just because he’s so thrilled to be a papa. It’s an honor to show them the world.

He would never pass up a chance to spend time with them. He knew having children would be require effort, and he’s fully prepared to be active.

Gale

When his partner is out and he’s left with the baby, he quickly realizes he’s not half as good at getting them to stop crying as they are. He tries everything that usually works- bouncing, feeding, changing, etc., but soon finds that the quickest way to soothe them is by using his voice. Gale runs out of things to say, which results in him carrying the baby around the tower and just explaining various objects.

“See? The metal points are called the ‘hands’. The big hand represents how many minutes have passed, and the little hand represents how many hours have passed…”

Wyll

Reads to his child every night. It was rare that Ulder had the time to, but he remembers his nursemaid reading to him frequently. It’s important to him that his baby get that experience. Plus, maybe it will encourage them to read more when they’re older? There are lots of good stories out there including the ones about their cool dad

Karlach

Keeps to tradition any chance she gets. She wants her kids to grow up like she did- with family gatherings, and sun melon slices, and stupid inside jokes. She wants her babies to know what home feels like. One day, the memory might be all they have left.

Some of her favorite memories growing up were of birthdays. They didn’t have a lot of money for presents, but her dad always baked sweet rolls, which is one tradition she’s not giving up on anytime soon.

#bg3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #bg3 headcanons #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios x tav #wyll ravengard x tav #wyll ravengard x reader #karlach x tav #karlach x reader

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untolduttering · 3 months ago

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Good Boy

Part two to this one, but can be read as a standalone

Summary: You find out about Sanji stealing your underwear and decide to confront him and do something fun about it.

Tags: female!reader x Sanji, nsfw, oral (female receiving), fingering, face grinding, grinding, small mention of blood

Word Count: 3.2k

You weren’t a complete idiot.

Sure, small garments such as socks did go missing. Underwear, too, could slip through the cracks. You didn’t really pay attention to your dirty laundry, but you sure did notice when a pair of underwear you had worn showed back up, clean, in your drawer. Especially when you hadn’t done any laundry.

And when it followed a routine? Put back carefully folded, the love put into the action almost radiating from the drawer?

You knew from the start, really. When Sanji would use that first day at a new island to stay with the ship. You were in a shop that overlooked the docks when you saw him and his overeager little self enter the women’s quarters, and leave with a heavily flushed face and a bounce in his step.

His idea worked quite well at first. If you hadn’t seen him sneaking in, you might’ve stayed blissfully ignorant for a little while longer. For him to pick the first day, when you were too excited to be on land to really pay much attention to the mundane routines, and the laundry day that typically followed after, was a good example of his strategic thinking.

If only he wasn’t a known pervert. If only he had any control over his desires. It seemed that once he started, he couldn’t stop, and couldn’t help to take more. The silly, horny boy. He really was so needy.

You didn’t mind, though. You’d become quite smitten with the cook in your time with the crew. You didn’t think he’d return any desire you’d had for him, until you realized that he’d stopped taking Nami’s and Robin’s underwear. Nami had been quite vocal with her complaints, and once you’d noticed that she’d stopped, you’d asked about it. And she confirmed, in her need to keep a sharp eye and rigid check of her underwear drawer, that they remained the same. Robin’s was a swift answer, amusement clearly there at Sanji’s behavior, but he had stopped rooting through her things as well.

So you let it continue, and sometimes even indulged in making it better for him. Every once in a while, you’d wear the same pair of underwear for two days. It wasn’t something you did often, as you preferred to be clean, and wearing a pair for so long wasn’t always all too pleasant, but you noticed that when you did that, the pair was gone for longer. The acknowledgment of your efforts was much more rewarding than it should have been.

And when your own longing for him grew to be unbearable, your self-consciousness being overridden by your need to have him, you had to figure out how to tell him. You thought of all the different ways you’d wanted to confess to him, making it as romantic as possible. But now, with this new ammunition, you wanted to have a little fun with it. You were thinking of making it a little more sexual. And that thought grew.

Now, you had an idea. And the first step required waiting for the next island, for that first day, and hoping that Sanji would volunteer as usual.

It was midday when Brook yelled out that he’d spotted land. You were helping Nami prune her tangerine trees, enjoying the sun warming your skin. The call made your stomach flip and caused a different sort of excitement than it usually did.

Nami predicted that you would all arrive by nightfall, and the crew decided to sleep on the ship and venture out tomorrow morning. You were suddenly thankful that you decided to wear your pale peach panties with a lettuce ruffle along the edges, and a cute little bow at the top of the waistband.

Come morning, Sanji offered to stay with the ship during breakfast. You had to fight off the stupid grin that wanted to spread across your face when you heard it.

“I wanna see what sort of stores they have,” Nami chirped.

“I think that’d be nice to do, too,” you offered.

Immediately, Sanji swooned and started fawning and crooning, “Oh my lovely, lovely ladies, out on the town, stripping down and dressing up!” He had his hands clasped and pressed to his face as he spun around, hearts in his eyes.

You giggled as Nami dragged you away from the table, ready to go out. The rest of the crew did similarly as they all decided what they were going to do with their day. You let her drag you off the ship and into town, and followed her through one store, commenting on everything she tried on. It wasn’t until you were on your way to the next store that you paused.

“Ah! Nami, I’ve forgotten my money on the ship. I’ll be right back,” you told her. You turned and left before she could offer to pay, adding to whatever debt you had to her with another added interest.

The ship was finally empty and you headed straight for the women's quarters. As quietly as you could, you pushed open the door and snuck in.

Sanji was standing there, the pair from yesterday pressed to his face. He was licking at the fabric, dragging his tongue across before sucking on it. A moan spilled out of his mouth as he did, and it was all somehow both equal parts lewd and cute.

You let the door click as you shut it behind you, causing Sanji to jump and spin around. His face flushed a deep red as he sputtered. He shoved the panties behind his back, as though hoping you hadn’t seen anything at all.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked.

“Y/n-san! I— I was just… thinking of how nice it would be to clean for you ladies in here!” Sanji let out a nervous laugh.

“Mmmhmmm,” you hummed. You reached out and grabbed the arm he was trying to hide, and slowly guided it forward. He let you, unable to do anything that might seem like resistance to you. You dragged your fingertips down the length of his arm until you reached his hand to take the panties from his grasp.

“They were on the floor.” His gaze refused to meet yours. “I was just putting them back.”

“Right…” you unfurled them and held them up between you. “I know you’ve been taking them.”

Sanji opened his mouth to defend himself again but you cut him off. “But I don’t mind. I, uh, quite like it, actually.” His eyes widened in surprise. “It’s been very sweet of you to clean and return them, too, ever the gentleman. But you’ve been taking without asking, and I thought I should do something about that.”

You could hear his swallow. “Like what?” he asked.

Now it was your turn to get nervous. It was a bold move, one you wanted to work desperately. You dropped your hands, keeping your underwear gripped in one as you stepped forward and grabbed the front of his coat. “I want you to strip down.”

Sanji’s jaw dropped, clearly not expecting the request, your forwardness, your hands on his front. He was frozen by it.

“Please?” you added.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, breathless, his lapse broken by your plea. His hands immediately began to loosen his tie while you unbuttoned his coat. Piece by piece, you both peeled all of his clothes off. Once they were piled onto the floor, you took a step back just to admire.

He cut a lean figure. He did not have very large muscles, but what he did have was well defined. His legs were the most toned, and little faint scars crisscrossed along the skin. It was clear that he took care to keep himself as well groomed as he did clean. The hair on his chest was kept trimmed, and so was the line that followed down to his happy trail, all the way down to his pubes. You felt the heat that was coursing through you burn hottest when you stared at his cock. It was pretty. Long, but not all that girthy, and that rosy tip sitting tall from his hardness. It was also clear that the attention was making him nervous, as his hands shifted, not knowing where to place themselves.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathed out, completely in awe. You couldn’t believe he’d even waste his time on your underwear, when he looked like that.

Sanji’s cheeks got even redder somehow, as he deflected the compliment, “You must have mistaken me for a mirror, mon amour, when your own beauty outshines all.”

And that personality, so ready to serve and make others feel good, all above his own needs. You felt your heart swell with fondness, and it ached a little at how he couldn’t see how wonderful he was.

But that was part of why you were here now. To make him feel good.

You raised your underwear, offering it to him, and asked, “Can you put these on?”

Sanji’s face went right back to shock. “You want me to wear them?”

You nodded, a grin tugging at the edges of your mouth. You were also here to toy with him, too.

“If… if that’s what you’d like.” He reached out for them and then slipped them on.

And oh, had you made the right choice. The way they sat high on his hips, and just barely contained his bulge had your head swimming. The little ruffles and peach color made him look so sweet. You stepped close again and pressed your hands to his chest, feeling the muscle there before dragging them down, enjoying the fuzz that covered it all. He was warm from his embarrassment, and his breath hitched from the contact. You toyed with the band of the panties once your hands got there, playing with the material. Then, you grabbed his length, feeling him through the fabric. He moaned immediately.

“Y/n…” He grabbed your face and brought you in for a kiss, unable to resist any longer. It was heated and needy, and you were eager to return it. The taste of his last cigarette lingered on his lips. You rubbed at his cock, earning another moan, one that caused his mouth to open, and you took the opportunity to dart your tongue in, to taste more, to take more.

You stepped forward, gently guiding him to the bed. He let himself be led and broke off the kiss to be pushed onto his back. You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist, needing to have your hands back on him. You ran your fingers through his bangs, pulling them back as you went, and hungrily went back to devouring him. You ground your hips down into his, eliciting a whine from his throat.

Sanji’s hands wandered, first groping your tits before reaching down to slip under the hem. As badly as you wanted to let him strip you, you grabbed his wrist and tutted.

He looked at you with a furrowed brow and his bottom lip jutted out, confused, and like he had done something wrong.

“Not until I’ve had my fun, when you’ve made up for stealing from me.”

He averted his eyes at being reminded of his shame, and let his hands fall to your hips. He nodded, but kept his bottom lip pushed out. You could tell he was put out for not being allowed to serve you, but oh he was serving you so, so well right now.

You smiled at him, warm and genuine. “Good boy.”

His eyes lit up at the praise and he pulled you back in for more. Sanji was always eager to do as he was told.

You started grinding into him properly now, keeping a steady rhythm. You were both moaning and struggling to breath as your makeout became messier and messier. Teeth gently nibbled into lips and tongues explored mouths until Sanji couldn’t take much more.

“I’m so close,” he whimpered.

You lifted your hips, wrapped your hand around his cock, and started pumping. Sanji’s back arched as he started babbling. “Yes, yes, please, yes.” His moans got louder and louder. He cried out as he came, and you made sure that all the cum that came shooting out remained in the underwear.

“Just like that, baby. Just like that,” you cooed as you rubbed him the rest of the way through his high.

“Thank you, thank you,” he cried.

You kissed all over his face; his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. You lingered on his lips, but when his fingers dug into your waistband, you pulled back.

“Not yet. You’ll have to wait. For now…” you trailed off, building up courage. “I want you to get dressed.”

“What?” he asked. “But what about you, my love? You have to let me take care of you.”

“Later, later.” You pulled him up from the bed. “And I want you to keep the panties on, just the way they are.”

“But what about…” he gestured to the mess he made.

“Exactly.”

Sanji looked a little horrified at the prospect, and you wouldn’t make him do it if he truly didn’t want to. But he started nodding. “You like me like this?”

You grinned. “It’s a punishment, too, for all the cumming you’ve done in my underwear. You’ll have to sit in now.”

The loud sound of footsteps climbing the ramp that led onto the deck interrupted the two of you.

“Saaaaaanjiiii,” Luffy called. “I’m hungry!”

“You’d better hurry then,” you teased while swiping his pants off the ground.

Right before he left, after dressing him, you gave his cheek a quick kiss and his crotch a quick squeeze. The smile it put on his face dazzled you as he left, and you could see a faint trickle of blood flowing out of his nose.

It was hard for you to focus for the rest of the day. All you could think of was Sanji and his cum covered panties. When you were near him, it was impossible to function properly. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander right to his crotch and recreate the image of what you knew was there in your mind. Sanji seemed to be struggling in a similar way, as he seemed determined to keep an apron on at all times. To think that he must be covering his hard-on made your spine tingle. At one point he even accidentally switched the meals he was supposed to give Luffy and Nami. You couldn’t recollect a time he’d ever made a mistake like that.

At dinner, he made sure to place himself next to you. He rested his hand on your knee at first, letting it sit there as you all ate. But then it creeped its way upward, his fingers massaging as they went. You hooked your ankle around his and pulled his leg closer, just to feel more of him. This meal couldn’t end fast enough.

When it did finally end, you lingered in the dining room, waiting for the rest of the crew to go their separate ways. Walking back into the kitchen, Sanji had you pinned to the counter immediately. He buried his face into your neck, covering it in kisses as he spoke.

“Have I been good, my dear?” he asked, his voice desperate.

“Yes, you’ve been very good,” you purred as you pet his hair.

His hands slipped lower. “Let me take care of you, please.”

You nodded your assent, but pressed a hand to his chest to make him pause. “ Just take your pants off and then you can have me however you’d like,” you told him.

Sanji stripped himself faster than you thought possible, and dropped to his knees. He pressed his face into your clothed cunt, inhaling hard and mouthing at it. He lifted his eyes to yours, and asked, “May I?”

The sight before you made your stomach burn and cunt ache. The tip of his cock just barely peeked out of the soiled underwear, and his lips were wet with spit, just begging to be on you. “Yes,” you breathed.

He tugged off both your shorts and underwear in one go, and you could see the stars in his eyes as he stared at your pussy.

“So pretty,” he said, before hefting one of your legs onto his shoulder and diving in.

He dragged his tongue through all your folds, trying to get all the wetness that had gathered into his mouth and down his throat. Once he was satisfied, he pressed it flat to your clit, licking up and down, switching to tongue your hole and licking his way back up to it.

You brought your hand down to grip his hair, but had to restrain yourself from doing more. You wanted to pull his face even closer, if possible, and grind against it, but you were afraid of accidentally hurting him.

But it was Sanji, someone well attuned to how gestures convey emotions, needs, and he said, “Use my face, baby. I’ve been bad, selfish, for stealing your underwear. Take all you need from me.”

And you did as he asked, grinding down as soon as the last word left his mouth. The new stimulation made you whine, but your sounds were nothing compared to the sinful ones that came from Sanji. He was loud, and you could feel the sound just as much as you heard it. His hips began to thrust into nothing and his eyes were fully glazed over.

It didn’t take much longer for you to cum. With being pent up all day, the sounds from Sanji only increasing in pitch, and his tongue working at you relentlessly, the coil that had been growing tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen snapped, and Sanji drank up all that you gave him.

But he didn’t stop. Instead, with your hips gone still, he inserted two of his fingers into your hole and started pumping.

“One more. Just one more, can you do that for me?” he asked, before latching onto your clit without waiting for an answer.

Sanji curled his fingers and pounded at your sweet spot. He pulled another one from you as you gripped the counter behind you, trying to keep yourself upright and grounded. But of course, he still didn’t stop, and you whined out his name.

“Another one, my love. Only once more.” he murmured. And you let him, with legs shaking and hopeless moans spilling out of you.

He added another finger, stretching you out so nicely, The third orgasm had you near to collapsing, and you truly had to tug him off of you. “I can’t, Sanji. I can’t do anymore.”

He left a spattering of kisses across your thighs and whispered out thank yous and praises. Cheekily, he left a kiss to your clit before pulling all the way back and looking up at you. His face was a complete mess. His hair was sticking up every which way from your hands, and his face was soaked with your juices, smeared all across his mouth, cheeks, chin, and even his nose. You looked down to see that he’d already come, a fresh wet patch on the front of those panties, and a few ropes of cum dripping down his stomach and thighs.

“You’re so pretty like this. We’ll have to do it again,” you told him as you caressed his face.

Sanji gave you a big, dumb smile,full of admiration, and said, “Anything for you.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #can’t believe this is the longest one so far #putting Sanji in my underwear makes me feral

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dr-dendritic-trees · 1 month ago

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"I'm actively suppressing the urge to just launch into my potted lecture on how much of people's reluctance to deal with natural fibre clothing is based around laundry, because its only semi-related."

please please lecture!

@drafty-castle you also indicated an interest in the Laundry Lecture so you can come join us, but your unfortunate run-in with Hobbit Pants more or less summarizes my concerns.

So basically the tl;dr is, laundry is hard and ethically made natural fibre clothes are expensive and that is a bad combination and its not fair or reasonable to expect people to do a bunch of independent research just to wash their clothes.

If I go out and buy a bunch of cheap shitty polyester clothing, it will feel bad, and be made unethically, and be environmentally destructive, and get stinky and need to be washed all the fucking time, BUT and this is crucial, I can be pretty confident that I can just toss it in the washing machine and dryer. Its very easy, it doesn't require much outside knowledge other than a basic grasp of the settings on my laundry machine, its not physically taxing and it doesn't vary very much from brand to brand or item to item. On top of that, if my shitty shein shirt does shrink or otherwise get destroyed in the wash that's frustrating, but unless I'm very poor, the shirt is replaceable.

If I'm dealing with higher end, more ethical natural fibres none of that is true. Even if we set aside the issue of cost for a minute, and just assume the clothing fairy magicked them into your wardrobe, each of those lovely, ethical, natural fibre pieces has its own washing instructions which again, are not common knowledge and which often aren't communicated by the people selling the clothes.

One of the benefits to natural fibres is actually they don't need to be washed as often, they can often be aired out between wears and only laundered relatively infrequently, but that's only helpful if you already know that. And unless you attach the information to the garment they don't!! People don't know that!!

So with your brand new exciting natural fibre wardrobe, you have to know how to wash, probably, 3 separate fibre types at minimum, probably closer to 5-10, and you have to know, or check the fibre composition of every garment and you have to do different laundry, for all of those different fibre types.

So the laundry becomes much more complex and cognitively demanding, and much more time consuming, and much more labour intensive physically, and you generally need more space to do it in. A small washer and dryer can be tucked into a closet, garments that need to be aired or dried on a rack take up a lot more room. So when we talk about how great it would be if everyone had access to these sorts of clothes there's a whole segment of the population that just will not be able to do that. It just won't be possible for them to keep their clothes clean without either paying for labour, or getting support, even if they do have the facilities, which is not guaranteed. And where is the huge pool of skilled laundry labour coming from? Historically, that was done by people how had literally no better options, usually impoverished women, but no one's talking about that funnily enough.

And on top of that, these clothes are expensive. That's not avoidable. So now, when you do mess up the (complex, labour intensive, time consuming) you've destroyed a garment that's going to be financially painful to replace for all but the absolute richest people.

And that's the best case scenario! That's not even getting into stupid problems like how some cotton and linen can be machine washed and some can't not based on any property of the the fabric but based on the fabric was preshrunk, so the garment which might or might not shrink in the wash based on decisions made up the supply chain. Or how, frankly, not every company actually uses good quality natural fibres, so sometimes your very expensive linen trousers just wear through in 18 months no matter how carefully you wash them (ask me how I know this).

This is also how I feel about mending. Another theoretical benefit to natural fibre clothes is that they're much more able to be repaired and altered but that's only helpful if you either have the time and skill to repair your clothes, or access and money to pay someone else to maintain your clothes. Again, where is this extra labour coming from?

I'm not meaning to be the clothing grinch! I really do think this could be resolved constructively. But people who just want to buy clothes that aren't an evironmental and ethical nightmare are not going to be able to spontaneously fix it. Someone needs to actually put some proactive work into fixing the logistics.

#fibrecrafting #laundry

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marzipanandminutiae · 2 years ago

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in view of Netflix and a few other networks apparently announcing that they are no longer requiring actors to wear corsets/stays, but framing it as the ultimate in feminist allyship against an Oppressive Historical Torture-Garment (and presumably typing their press releases one-handed, if you catch my drift), I have a few things to say:

1. I presume they will also be condemning Spanx, dieting, weight loss surgery, obsessive exercise, breast or pectoral or ab implants, Flat Tummy Tea, editing actors’ bodies in post, etc. since this is all about promoting healthy body image. ...right?

2. Okay, this one is not tongue-in-cheek: if a costume designer forces you to wear massively uncomfortable stays or corsets and tells you your discomfort is an inherent feature of that garment type, they are lying. All the articles on this cited reports from actresses saying they threw up because of Regency stays or couldn’t eat in Edwardian corsets. And while I’m sure some of that is giving interview audiences the sensationalism they want to hear, I believe them in general.

Someone needs to tell them that that’s not normal.

I have worn corsets and stays a lot in my life. I know people who wear them as everyday support garments. And neither I nor anyone I know has been seriously hindered in normal activities by them. There are even photos and videos of women from corset-intensive eras climbing glaciers, playing sports, having snowball fights, doing manual labor...living their lives

Sure, there have always been and will always be people who find corsets or stays inherently uncomfortable- that’s why it’s good to have many support garment options available for people who need them. And there have always been and will always be ill-made, ill-fitting, or extreme examples of the type- I’m not saying corsets are always The Most Comfortable Thing Ever For Everyone, because that’s not universally true of any garment.

But these production companies have been hurting actresses under the guise of “historical accuracy,” and this latest pronouncement is just another attempt to shift the blame.

Don’t let them get away with it.

EDIT: Apparently the Official nature of the source for this announcement is in question, but the gist of the post still stands, so I’m leaving it up. Will edit further if new developments arise.

#netflix #period drama #historical fiction #bbc #itv #(those are the other networks mentioned in the articles)#dress history #fashion history #historical costuming #historical fashion #corsets #stays #rant #diet mention #disordered eating mention

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waddei · 7 months ago

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something very few talk about when it comes to learning a new skill is how it unlocks a new level of appreciation for the seemingly mundane

as I learn more about knitting or crocheting for example, I've found myself examining Every knitted garment I see people wear in the street. is it machine made? does it have cables? what kind? how thick is the wool? how thight is it? how is it constructed?

im specially fond of any crochet items as they're always confirmed to be handmade to some degree! I saw a woman with a crocheted bottle holder the other day in the bus, and a woman with a loosely knit shawl that must have required some big ass needles!

i really do think every skill you learn widens your perception of the world around you in lovely ways .. it's something I always find so thrilling!

#wddy #knitting #crocheting

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waight-gain · 1 month ago

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The Chef and the Critic

Chapter 5: Public Recognition and Private Indulgence

Sunlight streamed through the window as Jacob searched for a suit that fit, Alex had been invited to a prestigious culinary competition and he was meant to judge one of the categories. While searching he found his old suit, the one he'd worn to La Cuisine on his first visit, in the back of the closet. He knew he had to try it on, he had to know how much he had changed since their first encounter.

He unzipped the garment bag, a familiar smell of dry cleaning fluid and aged fabric filling the air. Holding up the suit, his eyes widened as he took in the sight. The jacket and pants hung limp, a stark reminder of how much smaller he used to be. A smile tugged at his lips, a mix of amusement and satisfaction.

Stepping into the pants, Jacob struggled to pull them up his now-thick thighs. He wiggled and tugged, his breath huffing out as he finally managed to get them up to his waist. The button, once loose, now strained against the fabric, threatening to pop off at any moment. "Well, this is a tight squeeze," he muttered, working to fasten the button. It creaked and groaned, the fabric pulling taut against his belly. With a final, desperate push, the button slid into place, the suit pants now fitting like a second skin.

Turning to face the mirror, Jacob's eyes widened at the sight. The pants accentuated every curve, every inch of his new, rounder figure. The seam ran dangerously low, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his crack. Jacob chuckled, shaking his head at his reflection.

Next, he slipped on the dress shirt. The fabric stretched tightly across his chest and shoulders, the buttons requiring some serious persuasion. Jacob worked his way up, each button barley making their way into the holes. The fabric pulled taut against his nipples, the buttons straining against the pressure.

By the time he reached the top button, Jacob was sweating, his breath coming in short gasps. He looked at himself in the mirror, taking in the sight of the barely contained bulge of his belly, the way the shirt clung to his chest, the tightness of the pants. He couldn't help but laugh, the sound filling the room. "Well, this is certainly... different," he said, turning this way and that, admiring the way the suit highlighted his new figure. He ran a hand over his belly, feeling the softness, the fullness. He loved it, loved the way his body had changed, the way it reflected his indulgence, his pleasure.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Jacob? Are you in there?" Alex's voice called out, a hint of concern in his tone.

Jacob grinned, an idea forming in his mind. "Just a moment, Alex!" he called back, quickly unbuttoning the shirt, just enough to reveal his chest. He turned to face the door, his hands on his hips, his pose accentuating his new curves.

When Alex walked in, he stopped short, his eyes widening at the sight of Jacob. The suit pants, the tight shirt, the way Jacob's body filled out the fabric... it was a sight to behold. Alex's eyes roamed over Jacob's body, taking in every inch of his new figure.

"Jacob," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "You look... incredible."

Jacob smiled, turning in a slow circle, giving Alex a full view of his new body. "Do you like it, Alex?" he asked, his voice sultry. "Do you like the way I've filled out?"

Alex nodded, his eyes dark with desire. "I do," he said, his voice low. "I like it very much."

Jacob stepped closer, his hands reaching out to touch Alex's chest. "I thought you might," he whispered, his fingers playing with the buttons of Alex's shirt. "I thought you might like to help me out of this tight suit."

Alex growled, his hands reaching for Jacob, pulling him close. "I'd be delighted to, Jacob," he murmured, his lips capturing Jacob's in a deep, passionate kiss. "Delighted indeed."

As they kissed, Alex began to work on the buttons of Jacob's shirt, his fingers struggling with the tight fit. Jacob moaned, his body pressing against Alex's. Jacob moved them to the bed and sat down, the pressure proved too much for the buttons as they burst, his desire growing with each button that flew across the room.

When the shirt was finally open, Alex pushed it off Jacob's shoulders, his hands exploring the softness of Jacob's chest, his belly, his thighs. Jacob stepped out of the shirt, his eyes locked with Alex's, his breath coming in short gasps.

"Now the pants," Jacob whispered, his hands reaching for the button, eager to be free of the tight fabric. Alex nodded, his fingers working on the button, his eyes never leaving Jacob's.

As the button popped open, the pants fell to the floor, leaving Jacob naked and panting. Alex took a step back, his eyes roaming over Jacob's body, a look of pure appreciation on his face.

"Jacob," he whispered, his voice filled with desire. "You're beautiful. Every inch of you."

Jacob smiled, his heart swelling with love and desire. "We'll be late," he said, his voice soft. "Can you contain yourself until after the event?"

The competition was a whirlwind of activity, with chefs from all over the city vying for the coveted title. The event was held in a grand ballroom, adorned with crystal chandeliers, lush velvet drapes, and an array of tables groaning under the weight of the most exquisite dishes imaginable.

Jacob, despite his initial reservations about his wardrobe, found himself eager to showcase his new figure. He knew that his once-slender frame that every man and woman wanted to have and hold was now a distant memory, replaced by a soft, rounded body that he and Alex both adored. He took pride in his new size, in the way it reflected his indulgence and his happiness.

As he made his way through the crowd, he felt the eyes of the other competitors and attendees on him. He knew that they were taking in his new figure, were whispering about the transformation. He could feel the heat of their stares, the curiosity and surprise in their eyes. And he loved it.

He was greeted at the entrance by the event organizer, a harried woman with a clipboard clutched tightly in her hand. "Mr. Wellington," she said, her eyes widening as she took in Jacob's appearance. "We're so glad you could make it. Unfortunately, two of our judges on other panels were unable to make it, would you be able to fill in? We've prepared everything for you in the main hall."

Alex responded before he could even think about it, "He'd be delighted to." He looked at Jacob with a familiar look in his eye, the look he got when feeding Jacob. Jacob nodded, following her as she led him through the bustling event. As they walked, Jacob couldn't help but notice the way the other chefs looked at him, their eyes filled with a mix of surprise, curiosity, and a hint of admiration. He stood tall, his chin held high, proud to be the center of attention. Alex clung to his side, pressing into his love handles that spilled over the sides of his pants, already needing to be let out again. He whispered into Jacob's ear, "I want you to finish every plate they put in front of you." They both knew this was a massive gathering and judges would be taking one maybe two bites of each dish, there was no way they could finish every dish. Jacob, now on three panels, blushed at Alex's demand, public gluttony while wearing an already too tight suit. He shifted the event materials folder in order to hide his growing excitement at the thought.

The main hall was a sight to behold, with row upon row of tables filled with the most incredible dishes Jacob had ever seen. He took his seat at the judges' table, his eyes wide as he surveyed the feast before him. He knew that this was going to be a challenge, a true test of his palate and his capacity.

As the competition began, Jacob found himself surprised by the sheer amount of food he was expected to judge. Dish after dish was presented to him, each one more decadent and delicious than the last. He ate, and ate, and ate, his belly growing fuller with each bite.

His once-snug suit began to feel even tighter, the fabric pulling taut against his expanding belly. But Jacob didn't mind, didn't care that his clothes were too tight, that he was showing more skin between his suit buttons than was strictly appropriate for a public event. He was too focused on the food, on the sheer joy of indulging in such an incredible spread.

As he reached for another dish, a rich, creamy truffle risotto, he heard a soft pop. He looked down, his eyes widening as he saw one of the buttons on his suit fly off, leaving a gaping hole exposing his belly button. He chuckled, shaking his head at the state of his clothes. But before he could do anything about it, another dish was placed before him, and he was lost once again in the joy of indulging.

By the time the competition was over, Jacob's belly was round and full, his suit straining against the pressure. He could feel the shirt and jacket straining, could feel the way the fabric pulled against his skin, the waistband cutting into his gut. He knew that he must be a sight to behold, a bloated, food-filled judge in a suit that was far too small.

As he stood up, his chair creaking in protest, he heard a sharp intake of breath from the crowd. He looked up, his eyes meeting Alex's across the room. The chef's face was a picture of desire and pride, his eyes roaming over Jacob's body, taking in the way his suit clung to his curves.

Jacob smiled, his heart swelling with love and desire. He knew that he had shocked the crowd, had surprised them with his transformation. But he didn't care. All that mattered was the way Alex looked at him, the way he saw the beauty in Jacob's new size.

As Jacob made his way through the crowd, he could feel the eyes of the other attendees on him, could hear the whispers of surprise and admiration. He held his head high, proud to be the center of attention, proud to be the bloated, indulgent bear that he was.

And as he stepped into Alex's arms, as they came together in a deep, passionate kiss.

#ex jock #ai generated #gay gainer #gaining weight #gaining kink #male feedism #bloating kink #fat guy #ai image #ai story

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years ago

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Entanglement.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, unwanted kissing, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 1k.

“You’re still refusing to wear the clothes I gifted you, dearest?”

A dulcet voice smoother than the finest silk coos from behind.

You don’t deviate from your original task. Just outside the window, the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space looms. A mere panel of specialized glass is the only barrier between you and infinite nothingness. The concept used to frighten you, to a paralyzing extent. It got to the point your oh-so-benevolent captor had to make adjustments. Using some technology you’re unacquainted with, the dark canvas morphed into a familiar, more palpable set piece: the scenery of your home planet.

You’ve since overcome this hurdle and no longer require the mirage’s services.

Space isn’t what you fear anymore. No, it’s the woman with the future in her eyes who holds that distinction.

“It isn’t to my taste.”

“I know,” she agrees. Her perfume is near stupefying when it invades your senses. “It's to mine.”

Kafka is either aggravatingly unassuming or laser-sharp with her intentions. You’re never given time to adjust to her fickle ways, the second you think you might understand her, she reveals just enough that you’re right back where you started.

Gloved fingers hover over your wrist, causing your hair to stand on end. As if she’s playing a glissando on the piano, her fingers slowly creep up, from your forearm to your bare shoulder. Presently, you’re wearing one of the few garments you were allowed to bring. It’s a plain, white dress that she longs to stain with her own palette.

Her arms envelop your midsection from behind. She nuzzles her nose into your neck, swaying you back and forth while she hums a haunting ballad. Can she hear the skipping of your heart? Does she consider it just another instrument to compose her hedonistic harmonies?

“Are the stars truly that interesting?” she murmurs against your skin. “Surely, they aren’t prettier than I am, hm?”

“Maybe. At least they understand the concept of personal space.”

“Oh, I do as well. I just choose to ignore it when it comes to you.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

You can feel her smile.

“You’d be lonely without me. Maddeningly so.”

“Insanity is tempting if you’re the alternative.”

She laughs, the sound low and husky, belying any offense taken, if you had the hubris to think anything you said could hurt her. Before you can register anything, she twirls you around. In this new, uncomfortable intimate position, you’re forced to look her in the eye. There’s no quality of hers that unsettles you more. They draw you in and devour you like a black hole, picking apart actions you haven’t even committed yet.

It reminds you, similar to the path she walks, that nothing you do will ever amount to any meaningful change in your circumstances.

Kafka settles her gloved pointer finger and thumb on your chin, tilting your head up. Whatever she’s thinking is as unknowable as the universe itself. Her fondness for you is an illness without a cure — even she must know how sick it is. Something tells you that if a remedy for it ever existed, she’d refuse to take it, and would instead crush the vial before your eyes.

“What a beauty you are,” she praises through lidded eyes. “There is no greater joy than knowing you feel every second we’re apart, just as I do.”

Irate, you try moving your head away, but this causes her grip to tighten. Never enough to hurt — it’s only meant to warn.

“I take it you don’t like the cosmetics I brought back, either?”

Kafka delights in asking questions she already knows the answers to. If she had anything resembling a hobby, you suppose that would be it.

The skin beneath her eyes crinkled with amusement at your abrupt vow of silence. You fight off a shiver at the look. It’s all-consuming, dangerous in a way that rouses your primal instincts. She leans down close enough that you can feel her breath fan against your face. Her head tilts in a deliberate show of faux curiosity.

“Is your tongue frozen? Should I think of a way to warm it up?”

The hand that isn’t holding your head in place toys with the strap of your dress.

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. You know when to surrender in a losing game.

“... No.”

“No?” She repeats, mimicking the inflection of your voice. “Ah, well, that’s a shame.”

You almost sigh in relief when her hand retreats. She reaches into a pocket on the inside of her coat and pulls out a tube of lipstick. She applies the roseate pigment, maintaining smoldering eye contact with you all the while.

After what feels like an eternity, she descends upon you, her lips seeking yours in a fit of scathing passion. You freeze up at the unexpected boldness. She takes advantage of your reverie, interlocking your lips in a languid motion. There’s no urgency to the kiss, she takes her time with you, just how she likes it.

Her hand presses against your back, urging your chest to arch into hers. It isn’t until her hand starts venturing down that you return to your senses. In a fit of panic, you raise your hands to push her away. The defiance gets you nowhere — she catches your wrists with ease and holds them in place.

Fortunately, she pulls back, although she doesn’t relinquish her grip.

“I knew this color would look good on you,” Kafka sighs, almost wistful. Then, she raises your wrist and presses a lingering kiss against your pulse point. It leaves a smudged lipstick stain behind. “That leaves the issue of the outfit. Hm, what to do, what to do…”

As if hit with an epiphany, her eyes light up in microscopic supernovas. “I know. If you need my help applying makeup, then why should getting dressed be any different? Why, you should’ve said so sooner.”

Indignant, you seethe, “That isn’t…! Fine, I’ll put it on myself. Just— just turn around, okay?”

“Of course. Anything for my sweet, shy girl.”

Surprisingly, Kafka acquiesces. She pivots on her heel and covers her eyes with her hands. A teasing gesture, if you had to guess.

Just when you believe you’re regained a semblance of control over the situation, she throws in a comment that snuffs out this fledgling hope.

“I’ll give you to the count of a ten before I come and help you myself.”

#just wanted to write a little something for my Woman #kafka x reader #yandere kafka x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff

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eamour · 9 months ago

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a change in self.

every change in the outer world requires a change from within, your inner world — SELF. a change in self means a change in feeling, a change in feeling means a change in state, and that leads to a change in your external reality. but changing self isn’t as hard as you may think it is.

self concept.

your self concept is a summary of all convictions you have accepted about yourself. all beliefs, all assumptions regarding you. your concept of self directs and affects most of the things that happen in the external world as it is the "blueprint" to your experiences.

changing your concept.

the purpose of this post is to make you understand that revamping your assumptions of self doesn’t ask for a lot of effort. no, you do not need to go through a ritual, prepare for all demons to leave your body, sell yourself to the devil, do shadow work, or anything of that kind.

ending and beginning.

just like every living being, there is life and death. there is a beginning and an ending. in order to create new life, old life has to disappear, entirely. for new life to be placed, old life needs to be replaced. and the same way, you go about changing your conceptions of self. you don’t just let go of one-two assumptions about yourself — you let your old self die and surrender COMPLETELY before you make room for your new one. this is so important because you cannot carry with you any conceptions of the old self into the new one. or else you won’t change, you won’t shift self.

when we aim for a change in self, we actually "aim" for two things or do two things at the same time. one thing (1 · letting go of old beliefs) paves the way for the other (2 · claiming new beliefs), so 2 automatically follows after 1.

old concept · "i am poor, hated, dumb and unsuccessful."

new concept · "i am rich, loved, smart and successful."

all you have to do is to claim yourself to be your desired version of yourself. you don’t need to work on beliefs you had about yourself for ages or dip deep, find out what type of traumatic events must have occurred for you to believe yourself to be who you are now. you don’t need to do ANY of that. by declaring that you are who you want to be, you are automatically declaring who you NO LONGER are.

self is god.

you shall never forget your true self. in order to change your assumptions about who you are, who you were and who you are going to be, you need to become clear about who you are — GOD. you are an all-mighty being, and in imagination you can be whoever you want to be. you have permission to adapt and take over any convictions of yourself which you wish you had. you aren’t limited or restricted like a human being but possess power to its fullest. you are the only creator and outside of you, there is no other. you aren’t this garment of disappointment, fear or failure that you have assigned to yourself. you aren’t this one version of yourself just like there isn’t only one version of you that exists. you are everything, at all times. you carry all possible conceptions of self and will continue to own an infinite variety of self concepts to select from because YOU happen to be INFINITE.

"no one to change but SELF" — neville goddard.

with love, ella.

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utterlyotterlyx · 8 months ago

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4 and/or 25 with Eris, please!

Lost In The Fire

Eris x Fem!Reader

Warnings - mentions of arranged marriage, suggestive comments, lots of fluff

(not spell checked sorry x)

What if you - If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you. Don't leave me here alone.

Balls had never been, nor ever would be, your thing.

The opulence that came with them was sickening, a waste of precious resources that could be put toward something more beneficial. The gold on display, the mountains of food that hardly anyone would touch that sat as a putrid reminder of power and wealth, and the stench of ale made your stomach churn with distaste.

You would forever curse your brother, Thesan, for giving you over to the Autumn Court, you understood that you had a duty to fulfil, and since you were the sister of one of the more liberal courts, with unmatched spiritual abilities, it meant that you were a high prize indeed.

You had long lost your usual clothing, red and gold loose fitting robes that still had the power to accentuate every feature you held lay dormant in your wardrobe and had been swapped out for tighter fitting garments in an arrangement of greens and browns and oranges. By order of Lady Autumn, of course.

There would be a day when her title would belong to you, and you always had to look the part.

It was a part you played well.

Marriage to Eris, the Heir of the Autumn Court, wasn't nearly as bad as you had expected it to be. It was lucky that your talents in spirituality were so advanced, and you were also lucky that his knowledge of your gifts was so little when you had first met.

Despite his cold exterior, you saw a small boy within him wanting more than anything to break free from the chains that bound him to his position. It was his only defence against his father. But, he knew that you could see through it, see through him in a way that no one else could and part of him was relieved to finally have someone who could understand him.

Things were still rocky, you struggled with their way of life, something Beron despised and spoke of frequently, saying he did not want you leading his court if you couldn't bend your morals and do what was needed. If turning your back on the people who needed you was too stiff, then you didn't want to be leading his court anyway.

But everything with Eris was good, more than good actually, you had actually come to care for him beyond the requirements of your marriage. Eris had moved your rooms opposite his own to have you closer to him, to have you speak him into newfound calm when his duties became too much; to have you closer to him so that he could soothe your clairvoyant episodes that pounced on you from nowhere.

It was meant to be a marriage of convenience, a marriage to forge new power and bonds and produce a litter of children who possessed both of your abilities. A new path for Autumn, a stronger path.

The clouds darkened on the horizon, the moon poked through their curls and illuminated them with a faint pale blue glow. Lanterns lined the garden paths below your window, Eris had made sure to give you the room with the best view, and you watched idly as high born nobles and invited guests to the nights festivities strolled down the cobbled stone paths arm in arm, pointing at the array of intricately carved white marble statues and fountains littered across the lawns, scattered between the hedges and lush flowerbeds.

Ladies swarmed you, tugging at your limbs and shimmying skirts up your legs before huffing and ripping them down again, tapping your calves to tell you to lift your feet so that they could try the next one. Lady Autumn ordered that racks upon racks of opulent dresses be wheeled into your chambers, it was important that you look your best in front of all of the nobles attending that evening, from Autumn and those from other courts.

Even Beron knew how powerful your opinion was to others, not like he would ever listen to it himself. You had been the one to accompany your brother to the High Lords meeting to find a path forward against Hybern. It was your grace and elegance that kept the meeting from boiling over since you were able to feel the emotions of others and force them to simmer down before they consumed the room. It was you who had been able to tell them all of Hyberns movements which no doubt gave them the edge they needed. It was you who saved dozens upon dozens of soldiers from all courts.

You had been the one to help Feyre with the complications with her pregnancy, you had been there for the birth of her son and had given a kernel of your own gift to keep her alive; it made you a very trusted ally to the Night Court, a friend. Helion wrote to you often asking for you opinions on research and inventions, even went as far as to ask for your input on some new policies he wanted to introduce to Day.

It was stupid to suggest that you wouldn't be the perfect High Lady.

Diplomatic. Gifted. Elegant. Poised.

And Eris adored every part of you that you decided to show him, he basked in it actually.

You weren't really paying attention as the ladies around you tugged at your hair and pulled another dress up your body, fitting it tightly around your breasts and hips before standing back and humming in approval. Then you looked.

An assortment of shimmering golds, burnt oranges and flecks of silver, all weaving between one another like the summer tides. It was sheer, enough to be endearing and elegant but not enough to appear indecent. There was a cut out half sphere below your breasts and the bodice flared upward like streaks of sunshine at the crack of dawn. Even you had to admit that it was a stunning piece indeed. Like a stained glass window glowing with dawns kiss.

"This is the one," your fingers brushed around your hips with a faint smile, your hair was unbound and simple, a perfect compliment to the other-worldly dress you adorned, and your makeup was a picture of dewy perfection, shimmers along your cheekbones and forehead, arched brows, glossed lip. "Thank you," you had dismissed the flock of women as soon as they strapped your shoes to your feet, taking a moment for yourself before you slipped from the room.

The quietness of the hallway was enough to tell you that Eris would already be in the ballroom, no doubt sassily quipping the other High Lords and Ladies with cold eyes and a stiff spine. An act that would melt under your presence.

You weren't wrong.

As soon as you had entered the room, it was encapsulated by you. Feyre and Mor rushed to greet you, stroking your hair and running their hands down your skirts, begging for you to tell them where had gotten it. Cassian bundled you into a boisterous embrace which earnt him a curt jab from Nesta for the inappropriateness, Azriel kissed your knuckles as did Rhys, and Helion kissed your cheek in greeting, muttering to you how beautiful you looked in a hushed tone.

No reaction compared to that of Eris however as he remained glued to his seat with lips agape as his russet orbs scoured your figure, the mere action of his eyes on you making heat rise to your cheeks.

Tables lined the room with benches on either side, all packed with goblets of wine and mugs of ale, platters of food scattered at intricately measured intervals. Only Beron and Lady Autumn sat at the head of the hall, the latter of which examined you with approval.

Everyone had floated about you, stealing your attention from the one you desired to give it to. From Rhys asking you, jokingly, to revolt against Autumn and find sanctuary in Velaris, to Thesan pulling you to the side to inquire if you were being treated well. Helion had updated you on the policies you had so gracefully aided him in implementing, and you found a moment to catch up with Kallias and Viviane.

Then you made your way over to Eris who was wrapped up in a conversation with Lucien and Elain, whose gaze jolted from cold to warm in a split second when he saw your dress glistening in the corner of his eye, "Hello, Embers," his voice was as smooth as freshly cracked open whisky as he prodded you with the nickname he had given you, he thought you glowed, not brightly, but like embers on a dying fire, low and warm.

Eris was extremely proud to call you his wife, not only were you clearly beautiful, but you had a heart of molten gold, people sought you out for comfort and aid, you were graceful and poised, and could change the world with your bare hands if you wished it. It was what he needed, a chance of a real future with the woman he was falling in love with.

He couldn't blame you for your feelings toward him, you didn't exactly have a choice in the marriage but you had tried to make the most of it, and you had let him in and spent more time with him away from the duties required of you. Eris thought that you had finally started to feel a certain way toward him as well, from the faint shine in your eyes when you looked at him to the real laughter that sliced through the fogged atmosphere when he quipped something to you. You made him melt, you made him be who he always wanted to be.

"Hello," your voice was as soft as drizzled honey and your hair fell over your shoulders as you leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek, a necessary act to display your strength as a couple.

Eris felt your eyes trail down his chest and arms, the open collared cream shirt and chestnut brown jacket and pants; he had styled his hair the way you loved it, tamed but still with a playfulness to it, tousled slightly as if he had been stood on the balcony in the wind for a few moments. "Do you like it?" Eris motioned to his suit with that gleam in his eye that made your knees weak, it was certainly a good thing that he wasn't an empath like you, otherwise he'd know his effect on you and no doubt tease you for it.

Just because Eris couldn't feel your emotion doesn't mean that someone else couldn't read you like a book.

You're blushing, a voice infiltrated your mind and you did well to keep a stoic face against Rhys' shit-eating smirk he was no doubt wearing from his seat across the bench from your husband, with his arm loosely wrapped around Feyre's waist, sipping from his goblet with a teasing glint in his eye. Someone might say you might actually feel something for the man.

Ignoring the voice in your head, you spoke, "I love it, we're basically matching."

You'll definitely be matching when both of your clothes are on the floor tonight.

Go fuck yourself, Rhys.

I don't need to. Not when I have my lovely mate.

The walls in your mind flew up then, trapping his talons against the roof of your consciousness with such force that the High Lord visibly winced and rubbed his temple tenderly.

"You look angelic," Eris stood before you, taking your hand in his and pressing his lips against the back of your hand, dipping low and peering at you through his lashes, making no effort to mask the desire in his emotions.

"Thank you," it came out as a whisper and he placed your hand back to your side, sitting down again beside his brother, allowing you to glance along the table which housed not only Eris and Lucien, but also Elain, Rhys, Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, Azriel, Helion, and your brother, meaning there was no space for you, "I suppose I'll go and sit with Kallias and Viviane," you picked up your skirts to turn away when Eris' hand shot out and secured around your wrist.

Eris' eyes glowed in the candlelight, you could see the flames flickering in his russet orbs that had you in a constant chokehold, "What if you-"

"If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you," Azriel choked on his wine and coughed as Rhys and Cassian howled in laughter, even Eris chuckled and ran a hand through his hair at your words, standing to tower over you and cup your face in his hand.

"Perhaps later," he smirked and you visibly blushed at the words, even Eris couldn't miss it and he stroked a thumb over your rosed cheek.

In defence, you quipped, "Maybe I'll go back to my chambers then," the words flew from your mouth and you only realised how they sounded when Eris' focus darkened, the tension between you both was palpable to the point that even Azriel let out a whoosh of air he didn't realise he was holding in his lungs.

"So tempting," he took a step closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and speaking a low, rough tone, "Don't leave me here alone, you know I don't do well without you."

"Fine," you strained and he grinned victoriously before ordering his brother and Elain to scooch down slightly to make room for you, and you slotted beside Eris like the final piece to his puzzle, thanking him for the goblet of wine you had taken from his offering fingers and looking upward at Rhys and Feyre who both sent you a knowing glance.

Knocking on the doors of your mind, you allowed Rhys to slip in, doing your best to stay distracted against Eris' hand on your hip that sent fire coursing through your veins and heat pooling between your thighs.

I've never known him to be like this, you know.

Like what?

Rhys' eyes flickered to Eris in examination before finding you again whilst Feyre kept the heir ignorant to the conversation between you and her mate.

Soft. Caring. He loves you, Y/N.

Well, it's a good thing I love him too then.

Rhys smirked, raising his goblet to you to which you clinked against your own, sipping the spiced wine and smiling with happiness at his words.

Eris sighed and turned to you, placing a kiss to your cheek, allowing his lips to graze against your cheekbones and his breath to fan down your neck. The rest of the room had moved on, wrapped up in one another, wrapped up in the ale and music, leaving you and Eris alone and untouchable in your little bubble. His eyes scanned you, sketching every part of you onto the canvas within his mind, "Your presence has impacted me so deeply that I'm convinced that if we never met then something would feel missing," he rested his forehead against your own and his hand gripped your waist as his gaze bore into you, "Don't leave me alone, don't ever leave me," a breathless plea that stole your heart.

"I will never leave you, Eris. I will be here to watch all of your dreams come true, I promise."

Flames danced in his eyes and he became unbothered by who could be watching, "They already are," his finger stroked a line up the curve of your throat as he lifted your chin up, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours in something you could only call ethereal, so tender but passionate that you felt your heart burst with golden light in your chest.

Eris smirked against your lips, a knowing thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened, pulling away, you gasped as your hand ghosted over the fabric of your heart, "You knew?"

"From the moment we met at that meeting in Dawn," his nose brushed against yours, "You were too busy helping Thesan and keeping Tamlin under control to notice, but I saw you, and I knew I needed you."

"You never said anything."

"How could I?" Eris pressed a kiss to your nose, "You had to fall for me on your own, I couldn't influence that."

You inhaled his scent, of crackling firewood and spiced oranges and sighed, you curled your fingers around the lapels of his jacket and kissed him again, more forcefully, and luckily for you both, the room hadn't noticed your infatuation due to Cassian's well played distraction to give you both a moment, one that you needed.

"I need to get you out of here before I take you on this table," his voice possessively growled and it made you shudder in intense delight.

Rhys watched from across the way as Eris took your hand in his own and pulled you from the room, smiling at the large grin on your face and the faint giggles passing through your lips as he saw the silhouette of Eris flinging you over his shoulder cascaded in shadow onto the white stone floor.

If anyone deserved true happiness, a life of wonder and love, it was you, and it was something Rhys believed Eris was now fully capable of providing for you.

Author's Note

Back from Paris in love with the idea of love so expect lots of fluff coming your way x

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tragedybunny · 1 year ago

Text

Bedroom Hymns - Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW - Breeding / Sex Pollen

This is technically the second part of my wedding fic Dance With Me Under the Diamonds, See Me Like Breath in the Cold. I separated it out as it is just porn with a small tie-in to the plot. There will be another part that continues the story that doesn't require reading this. Reader is based on an Archfey Warlock. Tried some new things here and I'm not sure if they worked but oh well.

Reader and Astarion are happily married and celebrate their wedding night. But there may be more occurring than they realize.

Your hand fumbles for the handle of the door behind you, a difficult task with Astarion kissing and nipping your exposed skin. The door finally relents and swings open, to your endless relief. Maybe it was all the wine, but you feel as though there’s a fire stoking inside you, your skin radiating heat, to go along with the growing aching need between your legs for your now husband. You answer the door’s creak with a whimper. “Aren’t you in quite the state, my Love?” Astarion teases you, whispering against your ear.

There’s a blank in your mind where a witty retort should be, answering instead with another hungry kiss, and gasping when your legs are swept out from under you. Astarion carries you over the threshold of your home, turning to kick the door shut. It slams loud enough for you to be grateful Scratch is with Shadowheart tonight. That’s the last thought you have to spare for anything that’s not him though.

There’s no questions asked as Astarion starts for the stairs of your house, just your breathing, heavy with anticipation. The world around you has a haze to it, like it’s shimmering with summer heat. The need has turned to a feeling of emptiness that is almost painful. Arms looped around his neck to hold yourself steady, you whine in frustration you haven’t reached your bedroom yet. “Gods I need you.”

His grip on you tightens and he growls in your ear, something wild in his voice you’ve never heard before, but it makes you want to spread your legs and beg for him. “Soon my Sweet.”

Just beyond the last stair is the cozy bedroom the two of you share when you’re not adventuring beyond the walls of Baldur’s Gate. Safe and secure, the shutters block any sunlight when locked down, protecting your beloved while he sleeps next to you. It seems you’ll be needing it before either of you get any sleep tonight. Astarion sets your feet on the ground just before the bed and you open your mouth to protest, but he hushes you by grabbing your waist firmly. “Patience, Love, let's get this dress off.” Skilled fingers set to work unlacing you out of the dress that seems more like a prison, you lean into that touch, craving him. A cool finger bushes along your skin and the inferno inside you rises, hips rock back, the curve of your ass pushing against him, feeling how he’s already half hard. An arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place. “Behave or I’ll cut it off you, your choice Darling,” his voice is low as he speaks the words against your ear and you shiver. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recall it was an expensive dress and you were fond of it. You focus on holding yourself still. “Good girl,” he coos at you and you can feel your small clothes becoming damp with your arousal.

By some miracle of some god somewhere, he manages to free you before you turn into a writhing mess. Frantically, the two of you work to rid you of your undergarments before turning to Astarion’s clothes, the sound of tearing fabric letting you know they don't survive his attentions. “Help me,” you all but beg, leaving searing kisses along his skin as you undo buttons and trouser laces. He obliges, aiding in removing the offending garments until he’s bare before you. The fire and wanting fade just enough for you to drink him in for a moment, and you feel a giddy smile come on that you can’t repress. So perfect, he’s yours and yours alone. “You’re so beautiful, my Love,” you breathe out, almost reverently, and pull him in for another kiss.

Again he lifts you in his arms, finally settling you onto the bed and kneeling between your open thighs. One finger drags languidly along your slit. “Look at you all soaked and swollen already, needy little thing.”

“P-please Astarion,” you thrust unthinkingly toward his hand, your own reaching out to stroke him, thumb swiping through the liquid beaded at his tip. A throaty moan is your reward.

“Oh my Love, just you wait.” He sits back, content to let you touch him. Aching and still desperate for relief, you continue, wanting nothing more than to please him. Soft groans escape him as he rocks his hips into touch before finally taking mercy on you.

Pushing your hands away, he grips your hips and you obey his wordless command, turning so that you're kneeling before him, elbows propping you up. “My gorgeous wife.” Lips trace their way from the base of your spine up to your shoulders, hands cup your breasts, kneading them, thumbs brushing over peaked nipples. With a whimper, you grind yourself against him, the barest teasing touch of his cock driving you mad. “You want to be fucked so badly, don’t you. But you want more than that, you want to be filled, to be bred, like a good little wife.” He’s so close to you, words speaking of desires unknown until this moment, but it’s there in you, the yearning for what he promises. Desperately, you writhe against him and he pushes your hips away. “Say it.” One hand grips your chin, thumb worrying your bottom lip.

“I want to be filled with you,” his thumb slips between your lips and you suck at it gratefully, “bred by you.”

The press of him into you grants blissful relief to the emptiness, and you both still for a moment, bound as one. And then he moves, slow and deliberate, burying himself again and again. There are no words from you, just sounds of need, of pleading for more. “My Love, taking me so good.” His hand dips between your legs, finding your clit and tracing small circles over it as the rhythm of hips increases. A few more moments of those heady sensations and, with a keening sound, you clench around him, desperate for him to fulfill the promise of earlier.

He’s there right after you, one hand digging into your hip, pulling you tight against him, the other still playing with you. The feel of his seed pumping into you is almost enough to send you over the edge again. Gasping, ragged breaths are the only sound as you obediently remain how he positioned you, taking all of him, crying out when he pulls out of you.

The empty ache returns, but not for long. “Hmm,” fingers press inside you, spreading you.

“Love,” you plead, the need burning again at his touch.

“I don’t think I’m done with you yet, my desperate, sweet little thing.” His touch slips back around to your clit and you hiss at how sensitive it's become. The discomfort fades soon enough and you're lost in the euphoria of it.

His body covers yours, and teeth lightly nip into your shoulder and lap at the little drips of blood that escape. “Astarion.” You lose yourself again.

The world blurs around you, the only constants, his touch and your own ragged breath. There are no thoughts, only the drive to be taken again, like a wild creature in heat. Pliantly, you let him guide you to your back, where you stare up at him, enraptured. “Gods you’re incredible,” you whisper, “my husband.”

Leaning over you, he kisses your forehead gently. “Incredibly lucky.” Fingers brush your hair back and trace your cheeks, your lips, along your chin. “You’re the most amazing person in the whole world. And somehow you’re mine.” He ponders you for a moment, staring at you like you’re some holy thing, as though he’s engaged in an act of worship. Then his lips catch yours and you feel the length of his cock slide along you. Despite what you want, it’s painful as it presses against the exhausted bundle of nerves between your legs, leaving you whining. “One more for me, you can do that, can’t you?” His voice, sultry against your ear, is all the encouragement you need, and you nod. “Good girl.”

Legs wrap around his waist as enters you one more time. “I…ohhhh…hells,” divine torment, pain flowing into pleasure, desperation driving away exhaustion.

“Shhh, Darling, you’re doing so good,” he moves inside you, guiding you back to your precipice. Lips and teeth are everywhere all over you, fingers back to playing with you, you mewl and cry his name over and over until nothing makes sense. Your eyes are closed, all you know is the feeling of him, waves of rapture crash into one another and become one, and you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

Finally, with a jerk he stills and you feel at last gloriously sated, filled as promised. Collapsing next to you, he pulls you onto his chest and nuzzles your hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” your eyes flutter close, your body finally succumbing to exhaustion, the strange need fading away. And then you remember, the woman at the park, the bottle, a gift from summer. Fuck, who knows what your patron gifted you with, you should really tell Astarion when you wake up.

Tag list:

@micropoe10 @spacebarbarianweird @writingmysanity

@mxxny-lupin @azu21things @tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87

@fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

#astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #my fanfic #my wrting

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