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000jeon · 10 months ago

Text

Focused on her

mature: graphic detail.

synopsis: He had always been a master of concentration, but the sight of you in that black, figure-hugging dress was enough to shatter his focus. The way the fabric clung to every curve of your body, accentuating your shape, was simply irresistible. It was as if the dress had been tailor-made for you, and him alone. Every inch of his being was drawn to you, he found himself struggling to keep his eyes off you and had to his frustration out in other than boxing gloves. So about a leftover spiked condom in his leather wallet he had left from previous nights?

aged jungkook au! complicated friendship au! Roommates!

contains: oral, smut, dirty talk, tattooed JK, pierced JK, not as much plot but plot, dub-con, Dom jungkook, sub reader, ball sucker, coy reader, slight pinning, wall, floor, verbal jk, the reader isn't as verbal, jk focused, jk is very imaginative, in love jk, cursing, daydreamermer, face sitting (m), the reader isn't on bc, mentions of pregnancy, crempie, cumshot, blowjob, rounds, he is big, w.a.p.

Sweat glistened down his towel-wrapped forehead and rolled down his chin and neck as if melting underneath the warmth of the sun. His stamina and determination kept him going for hours at a time, taking a break every second to see what you were up to In the living room as he practiced alone. Typically he'd go down to a trainer or have him over, but due to severe rain pour and storm, it was best to cancel and take precautions for both parties.

You on the other hand took the opportunity to go through your clothes and see what could be donated. He never minded you stripping naked in front of him, allowing him to view you in such a relaxed state and you never hesitated to ask why. Was it because like his friends he was a pervert or because it was just a woman's body and he shouldn't huff and puff like a dog wanting a chew toy? You never knew and you never gave it a second thought.

With a loud smack coming from an undercut against the 6'0ft punching bag, he whipped his chin using his tattooed sleeve arm and continued working on his strength. Continuing he took his gloves off with his teeth and placed them besides his hip, giving himself a break to drink some water and sit on the little black padded gym bench he bought recently. With your back towards him, he took the opportunity to check your ass in your panties out and smirk to himself while he quietly took a small spit to drink.

Curious about why you were slowly bending down to pull something up he soon realized the dress had small chains of gold around the midsection of the dress and he practically held in a laugh at how you thought aloud of how delicate the seems were. Within another sip the dress was under your breast and almost completely on besides the spaghetti straps that looked like they needed to be clasped by another.

In amazement, his eyes raised and mouth slowly hung as he watched in awe of your beauty and amazing figure. Was it the ideal body you'd see marketed no, but the way your body hugged and tugged at the dress made him rethink his life choices of women in an instant. Once again shaken to his core, he stood up and walked over to help you clasp the back of the dress, his height leaning over your smaller frame and taking a peek at your breast naturally sitting comfortably in the dress.

With a wrap around your waist, he turned you, softy. With fear your eyes expanded wide like dear in headlights afraid he'd stupidly break it, but instead gave you more breathable room and adjusted the dress with a smile he wasn't aware he wasn't hiding from you.

"mmm, you think I could take you somewhere nice in this. It's a shame you've never worn it until now," he mentions, backing up to get a better view of the dress. Looking up at him you could see his gaze dancing to the slight sparkles that shined ever so softly in the living room light.

With a faded smile you look down and sigh saying "I've never felt confident with anyone enough to really show it off, so I hid it until now I suppose." Ignoring his offer due to the last bit of his speech, he walked up and lifited your head a bit with a sweaty finger.

"let me be the confidence you need, I'd train harder to protect something as bright as that smile when you turned around in that dress" he mentions, his heart fluttering more than yours at a soft compliment. Taking a moment he realized what he had uttered and pretended to cough to the side in his arm.

Flustered he tried speaking and only studdered words came out and was embarrassed. Taking a breath in, he smiled and gain a slight composure to excuse himself to what he believed was a full sentence.

"I'm going to uh, yeah. I'll -" he stopped himself, walking off itching his hair as he walked back to the puffy cool new gym bench. Flustered himself, that giggle you let out killed him and he knew it was about to haunt him for days of how he messed up a cool moment like that.

Undoing the towel wrapped around his head, he sighed and smelled it. It wasn't very noticeable but it was time to wash his hair. Which to him was a blessing sent from above or love itself, a moment he could hopefully steam out his head as he washed his worked-out bodys trophie of sweat and pride out his pores or so he thought.

He thought the cold water would stop the thoughts of taking you out as friends to a dinner, to show off your curves. As friends to a fancy 5 star restaurant in Seoul, he'd have to book now to see you in that dress again. But the one thing that made the water run warm was the thought of watching the dress fall down your body like a melted white chocolate fountain. A fountain he'd pour over you if you gave him one day, a night, and even the chance. Something his mind was begging for at this point.

Turning the water to warm, he gently hit his head against the wall in frustration and desperation at that point in time. He wanted to last one more hour to make it four with boxing, but damn if he did it's be obvious on how he felt about the dress on your body and there would be no way of getting out of being teased for months on bodily functions.

Couldn't help he liked what he saw, it pumped more thrill in his body to watch you turn your back away from him then to finally land that harsh punch he's been aiming for all day. And that was bad, very bad. He could trip over thoughts as he was over you. Was he in love or just desperate or maybe both? Not a teenager anymore, but grown enough to acknowledge that his heart dipped lower than his chest and throbs at the sight of you at times. Something he kept secret and hideen if possible, very hidden..

With a last scrub and the daily shower confession, he assumed he was clean of rightfully lustful thoughts until he walked out in a towel to his imagination of the black dress falling at easy down your body. He gulped and quietly made it to his room in search of clothes and franticly looked for clothes to go out in.

"gah, fuck this" he cursed aloud, pulling his shirt down as looked for clothes and ways to get that image out his head. Infact he needed to get out of his head, out of his apartment as he searched for boxers and his pants, and his wallet in a hurry.

"why me?" He whined to himself silently as he fell dramatically on the bed in a pain only you could fix. Reaching for his wallet in defeat he felt a circle like dent and remembered he kept a condom in there incase the day you wanted to get spicy with him out side of his head he'd be ready. Was he ready if that ever happened. Sighing he took the condom off and placed iton his bed side counter.

"it's pouring outside, wet. Wet like- ugh" he slapped himself slightly on the forehead. "What am I doing wrong with my life" he groaned sitting up and gaining the mental strength to go back out to see you. Which he did, to only find you ordering a pizza online without him.

"Ya" he yelled loudly scaring you as you jolted towards him on the bar stool to face him.

"Without me you jerk. First, you surprised me with the dress and now you're ordering without me, is this how I'm being kicked-"

"No you're not being kicked out, you purchased the place, and two, I just got the website. It's late, cold and I'm sure they will happily deliver here. So here, look and order with me. We get wings half off today." you mentioned getting up In your set pajamas and shoving your iMac laptop in his face.

Grabbing it with thanks he ordered his half added more items and placed his credit card in the order so you wouldn't have to pay before handing it back.

"Thank you jungkookie oppa!" you teased seeing the uncomfortable scrunched face he let as he regretted coming out here. Laughing, you ordered some drinks from another website to come and eveuting wa settled to come withing 45mins to an hour, which could increase due to the storms harshness.

"Is this where we play games and head back to" he jokingly questioned pausing as you got on your knees in front of him. Blinking several times he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or just maladaptive daydreaming again. Looking down he saw he wasn't and his Best friend of 20 years was on her knees looking at his Bonner like it was meat on a menu.

"Why not skip to the fun part of waiting," you softly bit down on your glossed lower lip as he gulped in anticipation.

"Maybe the wait is worth the fun in the end?" He lets out a deep huff of warm air backing up a bit in sheer awkwardness. It wasn't like he didn't want you, it was more he didn't like the way you started it when he could've 'man up' and started it himself. It was his erection anyway.

With a hand offered to help you up, you gratefully took it and he used it to pull up and close to his chest. Breathing heavily out of shock, your eyes slowly trailed up to meet his as he smirked in a smile.

"One thing to know about me is I like taking care of others, I want to have the lead, and those soft pleading eyes you're giving me are driving me crazy right now" JK mentions, lowering his head down so his lips could meet with yours but only keeping them an inch away for added suspense.

"then I'm glad I've always listened to you, to every word and command you've asked of me thus far" you gulp, lips quivering in need of attention. With that in mind, his head slightly turned and yours did too without breaking the small gap between his throbbing lips and your slightly quivering ones. A distance he shortly after broke, with his hands feeling around your back before bringing his arms around in a comfortably tight embrace around your hips.

Moaning from the tug and the great relief of broken space, he drank up the vibration and used it to fuel his lustful fire below. One that could be felt pushing against your pelvis as if asking on his behalf for more, for consent of the obvious.

Wanting more, he kissed vigorously. Their lips moved from the pace of uncertainty to tongue exploring the edges and buds of your own as his heart pounded from the excitement of your arms wrapping around his neck loosely like his thin silver chain with a gem pendant you bought him for his birthday years ago.

The birth gem necklace he swore to himself to wear religiously every day. The one he didn't put on today, in an attempt to run away from your hold. To only be wrapped around your embrace, just like the necklace.

While he tries to calm himself before making any long-term decisions with you. He knew that was a promise he couldn't keep with himself as he ached for something long-term and his body was pushing him to. Meanwhile, with his heart controlling his movements now, he started to walk you over to the closest kitchen wall in sight to corner you. To trap you in his warm-hearted embrace the same way the thought of you, your body, and your whole existence did to him mentally.

With the kiss naturally breaking off, he moved his lips around your jaw and pushed any fly hair strands away as he made his way to your neck. Gripping his shirt, in the back his mouth drooled over it in need as he applied rough pressure in the crook between your jaw and neck. With a burning desire he build higher than the pyramids of Asia, you pulled his shirt up and gripped his skin. A bright hue of red plastred on his cheeks as he marked other places on your shoulder of him.

"so much pleasure" you whined quietly, your words loudy admitting to the idea of how sensitive you were to every touch of his on your body. A sentence he repeated mentally as he pulled off to see your pleading state of your face and lips.

"Good, I wanted that" he chuckled at your need for intimacy. Whilst eyeing you carefully watching for your aroused response to his movements, he gripped the hemming of his shirt to pull over and throw off to the side of you. In all its glory, his upper body was indeed muscular and slimmed. A pack of 8, along with his biceps were seen more clearly as you walked your eyes down and around his bare uper torso.

"keep them lowered for me only" Jungkook insisted, pulling his shorts and leaving him in his ballooned underwear for your visual pleasure. A moment- wait no a sight you never thought you'd see like this. Moving your gaze back up, caused him to tilt your head back down to look.

"never said to look up, so keep your eyes lowered" he leaned in your ear to say. With a nod, you saw him lower his body to his knees and pull both layers of pajama pants and underwear down to reveal a slight bush. Embraced you covered yourself modestly with shock as he pushed them away and lifted one of your legs on his shoulder.

"looks good, so it'll taste good," he says, tongue slowly brushing and coating his lips in hunger as much as wetness as he leans his nose forward more. With a lookup of yes, you nodded and soon gripped the jet-black strands of his hair as his lips collided with your folds. Tongue lathering your juices around your clit as his hands held your hips still and close as he sucked and teased the floods and your nerve with ease. Arching, you felt the release of wetness drip along your thighs as he continued to lick his deep coral-pink tongue around the nub as his lips attached to your labia with thirst.

Moaning at almost an uncontrollable pace, you tugged and played with stands of his washed musk musk-smelling hair as your mouth felt like it was being held open for you in need. Pulling away softly, he made his eyes make contact with yours as he continued to orally fuck you to insanity before pulling off at any side of orgasm as he could feel the convulsions of your opening with ease and with some experience and a vague memory could tell the difference between one cumming and having an orgasm. A feeling he could sense was near.

Completely coming away from you, he caught you in his arms as your Legs buckled and gave up on standing on him. With a smile, he laid you on the thankfully clean, but cold white-lined tile floor and even placed his shirt under your head for a slightly better experience. Pulling his underwear off he threw them and eventually kneeled himself over your mouth, shaft in hand as his hard on faced towards your tits.

"get me even more excited for your mouth" he requests, your tongue like his earlier licked to become wet to provide a more comfortable experience for both of you. Thankfully JK decided to spend a few minutes trimming himself a bit in the shower as it was overdue for him, something you didn't mind not caring long as he was sexually clean. Something you knee from the constant lack of lotion in the bathroom and your bottles disappearing out of sight .

Succking on one side of his balls, you were glad they weren't too big to suck and roll around in your mouth as he jerked his cock in pleasure. Pulling up your shirt, he saw your breasts once again in a relaxed state and jerked and toyed one handily at them in ecstasy.

"so good" he breathed out heavily, cock heavy in his hands as he jerked over your breast harder in delight. It wasn't like he needed the extra help, but fuck if he had the chance to jerk himself over your pretty breasts he'd take it with no questions asked. Another fantasy fulfilled to him. Pulling himself off of you he stood up and helped you up to strip you of your top.

"fuck there's no way I'm letting your body get pleasure on this floor baby. You deserve somewhere warm and cozy, like my bed to lay on" he insists, taking your hand and urging you to his room. You gladly followed behind him as he rushed the both of you to the bed.

With the shut of the door and the flick of his warm-toned mood lighting. His bedroom was lightly illuminated with a warm yellow glow. Laying on the bed, he thought about a blowjob first but realized saving it for the end was more worth it as he knew how much of you he could handle before leading to his own orgasm.

Turning you over with light force, you laid on your belly and he handed you a pillow for added pleasure as you placed it under your pelvis. Waiting as he was you were getting adjusted completely, he tore his spiked, lubed, and internally ribbed condom and shuttered in slight coldness as it went down his shaft. Ready as you were, he soon pined your legs down and wanted to do things in prone bone style jungkook version than anything. Besides your ass in his eyes was meant to take it face down like this.

With his chest now hovering above your back, he placed his tip on the entrance of your cunt as he held himself in a somewhat of a one-armed plank position to do so. Kissing your upper back he warned you his cock was a large size to take. Which you believed based on how tight his boxers were on him minutes ago and the sound of him jerking wasn't light. With that in mind, he softly slid just his tip in before going into a full plank-like stance above your back as he introduced his protected cock to your warmth.

With the sound of painful pleasure coming from your lips, he stopped and allowed his hips to roll his tip in circles to get you accustomed to his cock. A feeling both mentally and physically arousing to both of you. After about 3 mins of him rolling his tip in and back kissing, he was able to inch his way deeper into you which caused him to panic at the feeling of walls tightly gripping and sucking him in with urgency.

"I'll pay for plan b if I fuck up and more if that doesn't work" he assured, knowing he's gonna wanna take that condom off to feel skin to tissue any minute.

Part 2: coming soon

M.LIST

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook jeon #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jk fanfic #jk x reader #Jk x you

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senualothbrok · 5 months ago

Text

Revelation

Gif by @dolceaspidenera

Summary: Gale shows Aurora she has nothing to hide. Sequel to Progress and Promise.

"Wreathed in morning light, sitting astride you, her every blemish and bulge is on display. She is exposed. Doubt disturbs her gaze.

You must banish it.

“I want to see you, Aurora.”

You take hold of her hand, swirling your tongue across the pads of her fingers. “All of you. Just like this.”"

AO3 link

Word count: 3.8k

Disclaimers: NSFW. 18+. Smut. Gale x female OC (Aurora). Aurora is in recovery from an eating disorder/body dysmorphia.

More disclaimers: Body worship. Hand and finger kink. Woman on top/cowgirl. Vaginal fingering.

-----

When she rustles beside you, your hand darts out by instinct. Buried in your bedsheets, you hear faint shouts from the docks outside, the morning call of seagulls circling overhead. Aurora has always been one to rise early, much to your chagrin. You prefer to cling to the comforts and luxuries of the night. You reach for her, groaning into your pillow.

“Early,” you manage, as your fingers dance across her hip. “Stay.”

She laughs, a huff of affection. As she retreats, you open a sleep-blurred eye. She is shuffling speedily into her slip, her auburn hair spilling over her shoulders. Strokes of golden light linger on the contours of her face. Even after all this time, your breath still catches at the sight of her, here and yours. The space she has left beside you is an ache, whirling with her scent of lavender and rain. The fragrance of home.

“Come back to bed, Aurora,” you rasp.

She smiles, amused, forbearing. You mourn the cascade of white silk over her curves. Never before have you hated a piece of flimsy, spiteful fabric as much as you do now. You could disintegrate it with a thought, were it not for Aurora’s wishes. You yearn for the constellations of freckles below her breasts and navel, trembling beneath your touch.

“I need to get to the market, Gale. I want to get you those pastries you like. And I need to get some paints and ink.”

You grizzle, shifting onto your back. After the discoveries of last night - a secret mole on the innermost curve of her thigh, a snug spot that made her body sing - you cannot think of anything less appealing than leaving this bedroom. Not for a thousand ancient tomes would you trade such reveries. Not even for signed first editions.

“All that can wait.”

She is reaching for her robe, draped lazily on a chair beside your bed. Outside the paradise of your bedsheets, Aurora cannot bear to be naked. It saddens you, how difficult it still is for her, though your love burns in every caress of skin and tongue and soul. This goddess in all but name, the north star blazing in your blue-green sky. In your haze, it seems the greatest injustice to watch the covering of her perfect form, so recently bare and flushed against yours.

It will not do. No, you cannot bear it. You spring awake, your mind and body united in their purpose. With a crackle and flicker of your fingers, her robe whizzes into your grip. You draw yourself up against the headboard.

Aurora can be playful. You discovered it soon after she moved into your home. It was a delight, to step behind the veil of solemn reservation, to see the twinkle in those appraising eyes. There was the joy of novelty in her, too. She had never had the chance for mischief, under the yoke of illness and her mother’s cruelty. Now, she relishes the opportunity to tease and tickle, to nip at an earlobe or ghost over a nipple. To rise to the challenge of desire. You are almost certain she will play your game.

Her lips part in surprise for an instant. Then she frowns, an impression of disapproval. “Gale.”

There is something about the intensity of her furrowed brow that makes you want to grin. It is almost theatrical. Supremely endearing. You resist the urge, mirroring her frown instead.

“Oh.” You smooth out her robe in your lap, deliberate and measured. “Did you want this?”

“Gale.” Her tone is stern, but her gaze is tender. She bites her lip, a telltale sign that sparks through your thoughts and steels your resolve. Heat simmers beneath your skin, the thrumming arousal of half-sleep that swells. “Come now.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You come now.” You tap your thigh briskly. “Come here.”

She narrows her eyes, silver flashing in a grey sea. For a while she waits as you tilt your head, your lips curled in appraisal and expectation. She pulls at her slip, her arms hovering over her belly, a habit of concealing beauty she believes to be ugliness. A habit you are bent on helping her to break, even if it takes a lifetime.

The standoff does not last long. You knew it would not. With a sigh, she climbs onto the bed, grasping for the robe which you snatch away from her once, twice, three times. You are deft and quick, and she is small, and it is easy. She glares at you, shadow daggers without an edge.

“Come closer,” you drawl.

Her cheeks are dusted coral now. You laugh as she clambers onto your lap, her slip riding higher and higher up her thighs as she clutches for the prize that you suspend frustratingly beyond her reach. A shoulder strap falls, her lowered neckline dancing over the dark skin around her nipple. The trail of freckles between her collarbone and her cleavage is a torment, stirring your ever-present compulsion to follow where it leads. You linger on the peaks pressing through the silk that clings to her breasts, almost translucent as she jostles. There is a gathering within you, a tingling in your groin that is spreading into your core. Your growing hardness twitches against her as you wet your lips.

You feel her sharp breath, warm and sour-sweet, the tightening of her lean calves bracketing you. The gentle, subconscious roll of her hips as her eyelids flutter. You sense, once again, that she cannot resist you. Rare are the occasions when she tries. You only have to ask, and she will open to you, like the blooming bud of an unseen flower, kept in a vault to which only you have the key. She is yours, and always will be.

A jolt of desire, red and raw, pulses through you.

You fling her robe onto the floor. She does not move towards it. You seize your victory. A gasp escapes her as you press down on the velvet soft cheeks of her ass, her arms falling around your neck like an anchor. As she buckles forward, her thick waves form a curtain around your faces, streaked with faded light. She is everything, and there is nothing else but her.

Aurora is quiet. In the early days, your only guide to her arousal was the catching and quivering of her breath, the tensing of her flesh, the rippling of her features. Through pants and pauses, you learned the peaks and troughs of her pleasure, and in the discovery, found that she, too, was embarking on uncharted territory. Until you, Aurora’s only experience of intimacy was to mask herself with a Glamour, lying still and silent to perform a role she never asked to play. Before you, she had never known the topography of love and desire, the twining of mind, flesh and soul with another.

She had confessed, later, that you were the only one to have brought her to climax. She had never before felt that explosion of ecstasy - singular and earth-shattering, entirely alien. You remember the long, lilting moan that dripped from her, echoing the first taste of her release. And though you felt sorrow at her story, you swelled with pride. Yours is the only flesh to have joined the marvel of hers, naked and unglamoured, and brought her to bliss. If you could wear this as a badge of honour for the world to see, you would.

Yet at times there is still a hesitation in her. Not just a shyness, cemented by years of isolation, when her body was always a punishment and never a privilege. But a hint of shame. A deep-seated suspicion that you will turn away.

To have beheld Aurora in all her glory has transformed you. You could never turn away.

Your hungry mouth finds hers, open, wet and willing. You clutch and pull at the offensive fabric that stubbornly separates her skin from yours. Heinous, wretched thing. You could tear it off, rip it with your teeth. As her tongue glides against yours, she does not seem to notice your frenzy. Her delicate fingers weave into your hair, setting every fibre alight. She whimpers ever so softly as you lap and suck at the corner of her lip, her chin gleaming and moist with your spit, and all at once you are rock hard, possessed by the feel and smell and taste of her. You wrench and tug her slip upwards, drawing back slightly to whip it over her head.

Aurora pauses. Flushed and breathless, she looks down, and you know she is registering her position. She is not cloaked by your writhing limbs, or obscured beneath the bedsheets. Wreathed in morning light, sitting astride you, her every blemish and bulge is on display. She is exposed. Doubt disturbs her gaze.

You must banish it.

“I want to see you, Aurora.” You take hold of her hand, swirling your tongue across the pads of her fingers. “All of you. Just like this.”

She shivers. For emphasis, you press her hand firmly against your cock. It throbs, free from the constraints of clothing, seeking her like a beacon. Her touch is a surge of electricity, and you cannot stop the groan that spurts out of you. Her grey eyes are almost black, dilated with unmistakable longing.

“Please,” you whisper.

You would not ask if you thought she was unwilling. If you saw displeasure in her hesitation, and not a residual fear of rejection, an anticipation of disgust. And you must show her, again and again, that you could never respond to the miracle of her beauty with anything but the most all-consuming love. You will never stop showing her.

In the steepling of her brow, you sense a shift. The shell of trust and love peeking open. She arches backwards with the easy grace of a swan, and you are the lake beneath and around and within her. You peel her slip off with a slow and gentle reverence, your breathing stilted by awe. She closes her eyes, and you are entranced by the arc of her lifted arms, the web of her lashes, the starry patterns of her dappled skin. The sheen of desire adorning her mound.

She is, as always, a revelation.

“I love you.” Your voice is a prayer. “Every part of you.”

You do not let her hands fall to conceal the softness of her stomach, the stretchmarks around her hips and breasts. All the parts you cherish which she yearns to hide, dazzling stitches in the glorious tapestry of Aurora. Her eyes glimmer as you clasp her hands against the bristles of your beard, holding her fast. An eternal affirmation. A promise you will keep making until the end of your days.

You are safe. You are seen. You are loved.

Her eyes widen as you push your tangled bodies away from the headboard. Raised halfway on her knees, she steadies herself on your shoulders, as though balanced on a tightrope, with only you to keep her from falling. Every muscle within you clenches with a building ache as you bend upwards to clasp her close. You run your tongue from the nook behind her earlobe to the heave of her breast, swirling a circle around her nipple.

“I love this part,” you murmur, sucking at the hardened bud.

Her breath seizes, arousal thrusting against uncertainty. As she tilts forward, you lean back on an elbow to savour the gift of this moment - the fullness of Aurora bare and naked before you, the undeniable quiver of faith, hope and love that vibrates through her flawless form. You circle one arm around the small of her back, and the warmth of her hands gliding up your neck and into your hair sends a spasm through your gut. When your tongue catches the salt around her navel, sweeping over each mole and freckle on her midriff, she stiffens. But you trust.

“I love this part,” you repeat.

You plant wet, starving kisses on the dimples of her belly, dark corners which Aurora so fears to tread. She tenses with apprehension, hanging back slightly. You look up at her, open mouthed, your tongue still flickering from its feast before. You hold her gaze as your fingers snake over her hip bone, through her damp wiry down, to her molten core. Her folds are hot and slick, her clit smooth as a nectar-coated petal. She shudders, toppling back into you as you find it, sending a pulse from the tips of your toes through the deepest recesses of your balls.

“And this part,” you groan into her skin.

You can smell the salt tang of her desire now, and it is intoxicating. You hum, half-drunk, as you lap at the curves of her waist, tracing swift whirls around her fire with your lithe and expert fingers. With them, you can summon the mightiest storm, reduce enemies to dust. You can raise up and tear down. But no spell could ever come close to this most masterful of skills, reserved for her alone.

She lets out a whine, short and needy - that precious signal, the spark which stokes the raging fires within you. You cannot hold it any longer. You grab her hand in your slick-soaked fingers and wrap it around your cock. You are fully erect, veins throbbing, a desperate bead leaking from your tip. In her slender fingers, you are a giant, growing stiffer by the second. You are invincible.

If she had any reservations about her effect on you, there can be surely no doubt now. In this moment, there is nothing you want more. You are nothing more than an all-consuming ache for her. She looks at you half-lidded, a gossamer string of saliva trickling from her parted, plump lips.

“Yes,” she pleads.

You are panting as you guide her hand, aligning your length against the dew of her entrance. She lowers herself onto you so delicately that you feel like clay in a sculptor’s hands. Her walls are so smooth, so tight, against the head of your cock, and the pleasure is so piercing that your elbow buckles under you as you writhe. She falls forward, her arms trembling on either side of your head, her tongue a helpless flurry inside, outside, around your eager mouth. The mattress shivers beneath you. You see how her mind narrows to a pinpoint, drifting from the flaws she imagines and longs to hide. You feel the grinding of her hips, inviting you deeper inside her. Every sign of her unravelling snaps a frayed nerve inside you.

“Yes, my love,” you manage. “Take your pleasure.”

She withdraws a little, confusion flitting across her features. A fleeting awkwardness. You remember that this is not a position Aurora is accustomed to, nor is the control and rapture that comes from it. All at once, you are gripped by a singular determination. You will show her, or help her learn herself. You will help her reclaim what has been lost to her, all these long and lonely years, before her comet blazed into your world.

You lean upwards, your hands resuming their placement on her ass. She stares, wide-eyed, unsure. You send your thoughts out to her - trust me - and her lips ease into a faint, halting smile. You finally understand the purpose of all those meaningless dalliances of your youth, when you fumbled over and finessed the techniques of love. They were all for her. All for this.

You draw your knees up and shift your pelvis. You feel for the swollen pearl of her clit against the top of your shaft. You have memorised its contours well, so well you could seek it out blind. Aurora is your favourite topic of study, a masterpiece you will never stop unveiling. And between the sheets, this gem is her centre. When you find it, you angle yourself so every surge of your cock will grind against it. She sucks in a breath, and you smile at the confirmation.

“Does this feel good?”

As you thrust up into her, you push her hips down to swallow your length. A blush flares on Aurora’s cheeks, deep as the pink of her folds. You grit your teeth through the compulsion that engorges you, the tremors of need through your muscles. On the third stroke, she bites her lip and rolls her eyes back as she takes your fullness inside her.

Gods, you think to yourself. You cannot hold on much longer. One moan, one whimper, one gasp as she arches back, and you could let go and fall off the edge.

You remind yourself that you must not. You must hold on for her.

“Take your pleasure, Aurora,” you rasp.

She moves slowly, tentatively, chasing after the movement you have set. You cup her breasts as they sway, pinching gently at her nipples, thumbing at the freckles nestled within their smooth, silky undersides. Rapt and voracious, you watch for signs of growing tension seeking release. A wrinkle appears between her eyebrows, the mark of laboured concentration. The drag of your cock inside her is an ache that rubs you raw. But there is a faltering in her rhythm as she rises and falls, a frown that betrays her mounting anxiety.

You realise, with horror, that she has slipped into a performance, and she feels she is failing.

She stops. “I'm sorry.” She looks away. “I'm not very good at this. I'm not sure-”

You lurch upwards to catch her words with your mouth. You speak your reassurance through the tender dance of tongues, the shield of your arms around her. You are furious with yourself, incandescent, to have put herself in this position. To have made her feel that she could do anything to let you down. It is unconscionable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, moving back. “I didn’t mean-”

She cuts you off with an embrace. The force of it winds you. Aurora is small, but she is not weak. Her resolution has a firmness that has always stilled you. She nuzzles into your hair and neck, sealing tiny kisses along your Adam's apple. She soaks you in, and you are buoyed by the strength of her love, pure and unwavering.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You cannot ignore the sincerity in her voice. Her love is larger than your anger, greater than any foolish mistake you could make. Before her altar, you lay down the burdens of blame. You press your lips to her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks. You had wondered if it was all too much for her, if you should stop. But her fingers are ghosting over the base of your cock, and her mouth is almost greedy when she tilts your chin down to taste your moan.

“What feels good?” you ask, when you pull apart to breathe.

She struggles to answer. The question is a continual discovery, its waypoints not formed from words. But you know some of them already. You can remind her.

“Does this feel good?”

You brush your lips across her fingers, widening your mouth as you take two, then three, into your wet warmth. You swirl your practised tongue into the space between them, sucking one in softly, the other more firmly. Her gaze darkens, the edge of her thumbnail bearing against your beard as it glistens with your spit.

You are wizards. It was not a surprise to discover your mutual love of fingers, those graceful channels of power and wonder. She had been surprised, at first, to find out all the secret spells they could cast. Her clear delight filled you with a fervent satisfaction. You know, as you press your fingers into her open mouth, that this will drive her wild.

Her eyes wrench closed as her tongue glides down the length of your index finger, weaving and winding across, desperate for more. The shine of saliva on her chin mirrors the moisture that streams over your spasming cock as she licks and sucks with increasing hunger, whining as you plunge her digits deeper into your mouth. As you savour every inch and groove of her, your thoughts slow to a trickle. You are coming undone.

She begins to rock, echoing the rhythm of your fingers. The flame of her desire burns over in tiny oscillations of her hips that shudder through your girth. Wider and stronger they grow, following the fierce current that takes hold of her, banishing all thought and doubt. You keen, her walls tightening and clenching as she flinches, the top of your shaft aching from the bulge of her clit and the friction that mounts as she rolls faster and faster into you. Her whimper rumbles through the pads of your fingers, and you hear the slick, heavy sounds of her arousal everywhere at once.

“Gale.” Her voice is torn with need and pleasure. “That feels so good.’

Her words are a spell. A door swings open inside you, breaking from its hinges. She senses it. Your hips snap of their own accord, thrusting to her quickening pace. All the love and lust within you gathers into the power between your legs, a roiling river ready to burst its banks. You gulp and suck, your teeth catching on her knuckles, your fingers pressing down on her flurrying tongue. She shakes as her wetness convulses around your surging cock, the twitching urgency of climax pulling her off the precipice. You gasp out a muffled cry, clinging to the last vestiges of the dam inside you as they splinter, one by one. She throws her head back and cries out your name.

You explode inside her. It is a shattering of every sensation that you have ever felt, an unleashing of yourself in bursts of blinding ecstasy. You spasm against her, a chaos of incoherent murmurs through the aftershocks of bliss. Your chest heaves, your vision fogs, your skin tingles against hers. And when your eyes meet again, a haze of awe and wonder cocoons you.

There are many things you want to say as you lie beside her. Her gaze is bright and gentle as sunlight on snow, her tousled hair a waterfall winding through your heart. You want to tell her that you love her with the fire of a thousand suns. That no night sky or grand illusion could ever hold a candle to her beauty. That she is your beginning and your end, and every instant with her is the most magical of revelations. But you do not.

It is her moment. Her milestone. You sense the memories that ebb and flow within her, the tide of your love washing over her wounds. You listen to the lilt of her breathing, the swell of the sea, the drum of your heartbeat. Her robe and slip lie discarded on the floor as the morning wears on. You trace the footsteps of her freckles, while she maps out the drifting down on your skin.

“I think I could do that again,” she says finally. Her smile is light with mischief.

You grin as she melts into your arms.

-----

Liked this fic? Check out my other work.

#gale x oc #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 gale fanfiction #bg3 gale fic #gale fanfiction #gale fic #gale romance #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fic #gale smut #bg3 gale smut #baldurs gate 3 smut #bg3 smut

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essentiallyleaf · 1 year ago

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day 24. car sex. with. ningning.

1286 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, car sex, Z O O M I N, deepthroating, semi-public sex, a bit of classic existential dread.

notes.

it is so fucking late i gotta go. speedily, leaf.

It’s at times like these that you want to treasure the most precious resource you have. The sun just sank down the horizon of Alpha-Earth, giving the sky this vibrant, electric aura, from the golden and pastel blue West to the indigo East. Hundreds of headlights leave long trails of yellowish white and rusty red all along the highway, almost as if the lines were already there, and the cars just following their predetermined paths. Your right foot pushes down, getting closer and closer to the asphalt. They can call you old-fashioned, but you love the growl of the rear combustion engine, the sound of rubber on tarmac. Time. They say it gets slower as you approach light speed, you’re far from it, but it’s almost like the clock’s hands move slower as the speedometer needle reaches new peaks. Nothing feels as close to God as this. The car takes a life of its own, and you wish you could simply close your eyes and, feel. The thrill you get when you’re on top of a tall building, and part of you wants to take a step. Those are also just passing moments, you think as you lift and return to cruise speed.

Ningning is beside you like she, sometimes is. Her hand falls on your pants-clad dick and starts rubbing like it does almost every single one of those times; the other times you’re already naked. Not the first time this happens in the car, even at high speed, so you simply turn auto-pilot on (they forced everyone to install it even on cars built before 2035) and let your head fall back in pleasure as she reaches inside your underwear to caress your bare length. Your right hand naturally goes to her almost naked back, needing to feel her skin under your finger pads.

She doesn’t dress to impress; sometimes she doesn’t dress at all. And the navy skintight rags she’s wearing today, well, those almost qualify as the latter. You’re in your usual attire, combat boots, cargo pants, the ones that tighten at the ankle, a close-fitting long sleeve shirt and a windbreaker. She needs your help to lower your pants and underwear, then goes back to stroking your cock, spitting on it for lubrication and reaching down to fondle your scrotum from time to time, causing you to moan up towards the roof of the car.

“Mmmh- Ning?”

“Huh?”

“Mind speeding the process up a little?”

Ningning likes to take her time, you learned that long ago. To make you look at her as she pulls the little lever on the side of your seat to move it backwards, positions herself between your legs, and stamps one long wet kiss on your tip. Or to observe people strolling at the night market, mothers buying their sons balloons, couples eating tanghulu (“You can tell if they’re good kissers just by looking at that” “Want to try with me?” “There’s a more hands-on way”; that was your first shared kiss, and it was more than just hands, on one another’s bodies after that). Right now her blue-tinted eyes are on yours, as her mouth surrounds more and more of your cock and she starts to feel her eyes watering and her lungs lacking air. She resists for almost fifty seconds this time - a good one, though not in her top five - drawing more than a groan from you before she has to back out and seek for oxygen.

“Are you okay?” She nods quickly, her hands cleaning up some of the drool that has accumulated on the sides of her mouth. “I need you right now, Ning.”

Ningning smiles and snorts lightly like she has you in the palm of her hand, and at the same time she has to concede this one to you. You stare at her open-mouthed as she somehow rids herself of her clothes, revealing her supple breasts and thick outer lips to you, and only thanks to your tinted windows not to any car around yours. She straddles your lap and wraps her arms around your neck to kiss you deeply while you grab onto one of her plump thighs with one hand and align your shaft with her already wet slit with the other. Her eyes are finally closed as she focuses on the feeling of your tip swiping up and down her vulva, brushing on her clit at every passage.

She’d been looking outside for almost all the trip, scrutinizing every detail of the gray and neon skyline of Nu-Seoul. Ningning has always had her own, unique wide-angle lens on the world. She has a little plant shelf right below her window in her apartment. It’s in one of those old, gray, samey buildings they were plopping one next to the other back when a growing world population wasn’t just a myth; the place is small and the plaster falling apart. One day she was sitting in front of the window, staring at the new little blossoms on the orchid, or at the bland, shiny neons on the skyscraper behind it, you couldn't really tell.

“Do you ever feel like the world is moving too fast for you?” She asked, sounding dispirited.

“I try to stay on pace”

“I feel… impotent. Like there’s nothing I can do, to change it”

“Do you think it’s on you to change it?”

“I think it’s on me to try.” She turns her gaze towards you, you let out a little sigh.

“When it’s just the two of us,” You sit beside her and wrap your arm around her back. “We can make what we want of our time. Make it speed up, slow down… It’s just ours. No one will ever take that away from us”

What you’re making of it now is pumping your dick in and out of her pussy while gripping onto her full asscheeks while she whimpers in your mouth at the sensation of her hole being stretched. She loves that feeling like she loves the feeling of wet grass on her feet when it’s raining, though meadows are but a distant memory in a city eaten by cement and desolation. Her soft, tight walls squeezing you in a humid embrace. You were wrong; this is what makes you feel like you’re touching the Infinite, reaching Eternity. Ningning moaning in bliss on your lips, on the crook of your neck, on the headrest of the driver’s seat. Her hands not finding rest, switching between your pecs, your jaw, your hips, and her own heat, digits circling at frenzied pace on her clit. You speed your thrusts up, time slows down. It’s a race ending in a photo finish; you can see the end, it’s close for both parties, but you never seem to reach it. Take a look at her pleasured state, savor the moment. Savor her tits as well, feast on them, then slap her ass once, twice. She wasn’t expecting it, her instinctive reaction is to drag her pelvis forwards towards you, giving you a different angle to attack. Exploit that to hit every crevice, every little patch you weren’t able to before, and as she contracts around you in one long, then multiple short and rhythmic flexes of her lower abdomen, each accompanied by a scream that fills the entire cockpit, you have your own release. Spill cups and cups of milky substance into her womb, every spurt coinciding with an upwards thrust and a small bite on her shoulder, as you continuously groan in complete bliss. Then it’s silence, a second, or an eternity, it doesn’t matter anymore, before she talks again.

“Back seat for round two? I want it from behind”

footnotes.

now i can’t unsee the asthma periods. you cursed me @erospandemos. gaspingly, leaf.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #girl group smut #idol smut #female idol smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #idol x reader #idol x male reader #aespa #ningning #aespa ningning #aespa smut #ningning smut #aespa ningning smut

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atsadi-shenanigans · 4 months ago

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Tightrope and Lace

Astarion has a proposition: you’d look lovely in rope. And you shouldn’t be the only one who gets to dress for the occasion. Rated extremely Explicit.

Like a lotta questionable decisions in your life, this one also starts with four words.

“I have a proposition, darling.”

Okay, so that’s five words. But Astarion uses “darling” the same way the man deigns to breathe, so it don’t count.

It’s an hour after sundown. The last traces of pink light smear low on the horizon, behind the lit towers and buildings of the city. Warmth still clings to the stones of y’all’s townhouse, and your hair is still damp from your bath.

Astarion pads up behind you, and his cool fingers trace softly down the back of your neck. A shiver races along after them. Which he know’ll happen.

“Uh huh?” you say all non-committal, because the last time he said that to you it involved a phial of arsonists oil, the city watch, and the stray cat incident.

Y’all are still in your sleepwear. Well, he is. Soft, loose trousers and his bare chest against your back. You actually had to throw on a mumu (they call it a shift) after bathing, and that bitch is see-through in direct light, but y’all ain’t expecting visitors and it’s chilly enough you don’t want to walk around bare today.

(Fuck the heat.)

That mumu is thin enough you feel the first stirring of his intent against your ass.

“Uh huh,” you say, much more interested.

He nuzzles in, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. Down the side of your neck to drag his teeth over the fain scars you now carry there.

Feeding and fucking ain’t always synonymous with him—sometimes a man is just plain old hungry. It often is, though, and his cock is definitely starting to pay attention.

“Come back to bed,” he says.

“I’m hungry.”

He hums. Nibbles at you again and his hands move to your front. One lifts to cup a breast, while the other trails down, down to slip between your legs.

“So am I,” he says and he had to’ve practiced that line.

Except you’re up and washed for a reason. The night market is opening, and y’all are getting low on provisions. You want soup, goddamnit, and y’all are somehow out of both onions and fucking salt. Plus, if you get there soon, you can grab yourself a chicken before they all get snatched up (thank you Gale for teaching you how to defeather and dress them little dumplings).

(Ooh, chicken and dumplings sounds great.)

So you, very reluctantly, push his hands away. Turn in the circle of his arms—you don’t get a chance to talk before he leans in for a kiss. He’s gentle, this evening. You fall into it a little, until his teeth find your lower lip.

This’ll get out of control (y’all have fucked on this counter more than once already). And you need provisions.

So you break off. He tries to follow, and groans when you don’t let him.

“So selfish, leaving me here like this,” the man whines.

And the idea blooms in your mind. Your breath catches and a tendril of warmth shoots between your legs. Astarion, with his fucking vampire hearing honed in on your cardiac uptick, raises an eyebrow and a sly smile slides across his face.

“What if, um,” you say. “What if you weren’t the only one left wanting?”

“Oh?”

Your cheeks are warm. You bite your lip (and catch how he stares).

“What if we got the rope?”

The rest on AO3 cause I don't wanna get thrown into horny jail.

#astarion smut #bg3 smut #tightrope and lace #these two shitheads #tavstarion #astarion x tav #astarion x eleanor #astarion in lingerie #smutfic #eleanor in rope

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redbleedingrose · 1 year ago

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Wake Up Call

Girl Dad!Eris x Reader

A/N: 6.2K words later?? I missed Girl Dad!Er and my babes Marwa and Twila! I hope y’all enjoy! As always, please reblog, comment, and like! It means the literal world to me and I will smooch you! (if u want)

~ a special thank you to @augustinerose who inspired me, and pushed me to continue to write, even when I didn’t think I could.

Warmth. It was all I felt. It was all I wanted to feel. I shuffled my body closer to the only source of warmth in the large emerald stained oak bed, wriggling my hips backwards and using the corded bicep that was resting under my head to cuddle further into the sleeping male behind me, the high lord of Autumn Court, my husband and mate. A puff of breath escaped his lips, too sleep-idled to fully be aware of my nestling into him, but sensing through the bond that had been present for multiple centuries now, one that had grown stronger and firmer with every moment we spent together, that his mate was near, but not nearly close enough. Eris shifted his body towards me, groaning as he lifted himself from his back and onto his side, throwing his free arm around my waist and squeezing the soft flesh as he closed the gap between us, yanking my body in one tug to be fully against his, before settling his face into the crook of my neck.

He pressed a soft kiss just behind my ear, humming in contentment before, apparently, falling back into a deep sleep as quickly as he had woken up, his soft snores fading into the fall breeze that was entering our room from the open balcony doors. The sun had barely risen, just peaking above the horizon, the milky orange and peach from the rays blending into the background of the giant sequoia forest that was married with the colored leaves of the sycamore maples and the weeping willows that I so very much loved. Sighing slowly, I dropped a delicate kiss onto a knife thin yet deep scar that marked the cream toned arm that had been acting as my favorite pillow since we had accepted the mating bond. I watched, barely awake, as the sun rose in the quiet peace of the morning, reveling in the end of the cries of the crickets and the start of the singing of honeyed songs by the diamond spotted doves.

I lived for these moments where I had alone time with Eris, as did he, his arm tightening around my waist as the song of the morning became louder and the chill of breeze became stronger, marking the start of a new day. The moments before we became high lady and high lord to our vast and expanding land. The moments before the Autumn Court depended on our daily activities to keep the territory in harmony and fruitful success. The moments before our perfect, mischievous little babes sneak into our room with their “guard” dog, who was really just a runt from a killer hound litter that Marwa and Twila convinced their papa, the usually unshakeable high lord, to buy from the farmers market with their tiny pouts and big brown eyes, in tow, just to jump onto our bed and scream with delight until we would wake and bless them with our coziest of hugs and our sunup smooches.

Honestly, I was quite surprised the babes hadn’t run in yet, the pitter patter of their feet running towards our room that correlated with the sunrise is usually what sent my eyes flying open, shoving a warm and cuddly Eris off of me, scrambling to pull on any clothing that the newly grumpy male had hastily pulled off the previous night before we scar our innocent children for life. An observation that apparently hadn’t gone unnoticed, a groggy murmur emmenanting from the lordling whose hand was now roaming the expanse of my abdomen and breasts, a stray finger sliding over my nipple, “What trouble do you think the babes are getting up to right now, my beloved?”

I caught his exploring hand with my own, twining our tattooed fingers together before bringing it up to my lips and pressing firm kisses that were followed with a tiny bite to each of the available pads of his fingers, humming in response, “I haven’t the foggiest idea, husband.” He growled, shoving his naked leg between my thighs, sighing out as I brought his pointer finger into my mouth for a soft suckle to soothe the sting of the bite I had gifted him with, running my tongue along the length of his digit.

A grin overtook my face as I finally turned to face Er, who was staring back at me with his own lust-filled smirk. A jolt of excitement ran through your core, the warmth that I had felt suddenly, rushing down to my barely covered sex that was starting to throb at the butterfly sensation that had erupted in my belly. My mate pulled me in for a slow kiss, meshing our lips together so that they would melt against each other as they had last night, quickly working in harder and faster pecks. I molded my entire body against his, grinding into the hard muscle as his hand slipped out of my embrace and up to caress my jaw, his thumb carefully pressing into the soft skin of my neck. Another thrill of heat tingeled its way through my entire body, starting from his thumb and spreading down all the way to the tip of my painted sage green toes. I couldn't help the desperate whine that escaped me, further encouraging Er to kiss me more firmly, with intent to continue into what would surely be rough morning sex that would blend into incredible love making as the hours passed.

Unfortunately, the gods had other plans for us two today.

The familiar sound of two pairs of small feet scampering through the hall towards our room had sent me thwarting off the edge of the bed, hurling Eris his pants as he chuckled at my panic. I shot him a dirty, betrayed look, rolling my eyes as I shoved on the silk slip I was wearing last night when I put the babes to bed, tossing myself back into Eris’ arms while pulling the heavy comforter back over us. The lordling grunted in surprise as he caught me when I tossed myself back into bed, pulling me back into his grasp, chortling into my disheveled hair with a planted kiss, “Ah, who would've known our babes would be such wonderful cockblocks, my beloved?”

I clenched my jaw, jabbing my elbow into his perfect abs, hissing at him to “Shut up.” If I was anyone else, if I wasn’t the love of his life and his mate, if I wasn’t the mother of his children, I would already be disintegrated into ash with the force of his magic. Another swift kiss was pressed into my hair by the high lord as the hickory double doors carved with intricate designs and stained with henna were barely pushed open by the two toddlers who tried peaking their heads through the opening.

A tuft of amber hair resembling her fathers along with another tuft of darker hair resembling her grandmother poked into the room through the doorway, curls inherited from their papa that are tangled and in disarray from the dreams of their pegasus’ in Day court, taken care of by their grandparents, mixed in with dreams of milk chocolate swirled with caramels and pecans that their uncle Lucien sneaked them constantly. Tiny grunts are heard as the babes struggle to manage keeping the doors open, their little, pudgy hands too strained against the heavy wood to even allow their shoulders to squirm against each other and through the pressed doorway, “Help pwease, papa.” The request comes grumbled out by Twila, who has decidedly put all her effort into keeping the door open for her and her sister, Marwa, whose back is now pressed into the grand oak, bare feet trying to climb up the emerald green wallpaper to use the force of her upper body to aid her twin, waiting rather impatiently for their papa to save the day, as he always does for them.

I lean back into Eris, chuckling at the effort of the babes, nudging his already moving body towards them. His reply comes swiftly, mingled with mirth at the sweet girls he loves more than the moon, more than the stars and the sun itself, “Coming, my little loves.” Centuries ago, he couldn’t have ever imagined this is what his lifetime would be blessed with. Two perfect babes who were happy and safe, and a perfect mate who warmed his heart more than the eternal fire of Autumn. Now, he wakes every morning to the scent of his high lady who seeks him out for the fire in his blood he once despised, followed by the sounds of his precious darlings sneaking into the room, jumping onto our bed, screaming with laughter to start our day.

He drew the door open slowly, allowing for Twila to release her efforts from holding the doors open and shift them into racing into the room towards the bed, leaving her sister behind who is hoisted into Eris’ embrace. I watched him press soft kisses into Marwa’s cheeks and messy hair while Twila fisted the fluffed out comforter to pull herself onto the bed. I settled myself into the padded headboard, crossing my legs at my ankles and placing my interlocked hands into my lap. A chuckle escaped me once again, Twila’s grunts and reddening face bringing me a sense of delight that can only be ascribed to the pride I felt in her never-ending effort, “Do you need help, little one?” I hummed down at her, leaning down to the side to see her bare feet off the floor and pressed into the side of the bed to steady her climbing.

She whined for a moment, her amber curls falling above her eyes which she swatted away, huffing out a, “No tanks you mama.” In all her struggles, she didn’t notice Er sneaking up from behind her, winking at me with a small smirk when he fisted her daffodil yellow nightgown and gave her the final tug she needed to climb onto the bed, letting go before she could realize how her papa has interfered, and ultimately helped her succeed with her mission. Twila panted against the crumpled bed sheets, her hands curling to fist the fabric for a moment before leaping up onto her feet, jumping on the bed as though the completion of her mission had revitalized her energy, big brown eyes sparkling with joy, leaping into my open arms to shove her face into my cheek, sloppily pressing a wet kiss before she cried out, “Look mama, I did it!”

My arms wrapped around her wriggling body, yanking her into my lap while she giggled and kicked at the feeling of my fingers poking into her sides, “You did it my sweet, good job!” I returned the sloppy kiss two-fold, pressing a smooch to her warm forehead and freckled nose. The mattress shifted as Eris sank in beside me, Marwa quietly pressed into his side, her head leaning on his chest, her heavy eyes watching her sister and I before taking a deep breath and clinging closer to her papa. I reached out my hand to run my fingers through the tired babes hair, giving a soft tug to one curl following it with peppered kisses all over the top of Marwa’s head. A sleepy smile tugged at her flushed cheeks, preening under her mamas attention and love, her half lidded eyes finally giving into the sleep she so clearly felt, sliding shut with puffs of breath escaping her open mouth, soothed by the strokes of Eris’ hands down her back and back through her hair.

Twila kindly babbled on, though, she did so more softly so she didn’t wake her twin, telling Eris and I of the things she planned on doing today, “I wanna eat nachos for breakfast, mama, an then I wanna go for a walk with Ruby,” the pup who had slid into the room with the babes and had nestled himself into the rug, dozing in front of the crackling fireplace, “An then I wanna eat nachos for lunch,” Eris cut in with a small laugh tumbling from his pretty lips, a single brow arched as he eyed the babe in my lap with amusement, “Nachos for breakfast and lunch Twi?”

She brought up her tiny palms to stifle giggles that escaped her like a little sprite at Er’s slightly concerned tone, nodding with a hum in affirmation, finding great pleasure in being a source of what could be called ‘a healthy stress’ for her papa. Twila was always the most mischievous and playful of the two, the one most likely being the mastermind for the adventures she took herself and her sister along in as the outgoing babe she is. Poor, sweet Marwa always found herself roped into whatever Twila had planned, following along with unbreakable loyalty, and a secret knack for getting the two out of any trouble they may have found themselves in.

Eris shot me a look that nearly sent me over the edge with cackles, the hilarity of Twila’s cravings were too adorable to handle, a feeling of delirious content spilled into my heart as I thought back to my pregnancy with the babes that were sat in our arms. I thought back to the countless nights I had woken up Eris, who startled awake with distress, thinking there was something wrong with me or the babes, or that there was some danger that needed to be eliminated, only to find that his high lady was craving cheesy, melty nachos with jalapenos and all sorts of other peppers as toppings. Pressing another kiss, this time into the babes chubby cheek, I let my smile widen as her big brown, sparkling eyes turned up to me, “How about we have scrambled eggs and potatoes, the ones that I make, and nachos for lunch, hmm?” Her replying smile lilted her ruddy cheeks enough for Eris to lean in and press his own kiss onto her.

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It had been hours since the morning lull had quickened into the busy afternoon. Eris and I were immensely crammed with our duties, negotiations of forging an alliance between Night, Dawn, and Day was proving harder than expected. Demands that were being sent by all parties were being denied outright without explanation, driving tensions higher and higher with every passing day. The other problems of the court also required our utmost attention, the lords who remained from the rule of Beron were rebelling against Eris’ new laws that were set into place to protect the farmers and townspeople that were once oppressed, both financially and politically. Changes had to be made in Autumn once Eris took his place on the throne, assigning me as the first high lady of Autumn was the first step he made into bringing these changes. After years on the throne, things hadn’t gotten any easier. The only point of peace we got were the moments we had with each other, and the moments we had with our babes.

We hadn’t been able to see them since breakfast; Er and I had been pulled into different meetings while the babes were whisked away to their morning lessons. I glanced up, looking over Eris’ hair at the clock that had been hung on the wall behind his desk. The times after our meetings were spent decompressing within his office, either through fucking out our frustrations or reading together in a peaceful silence. Today, it had been reading together in a peaceful silence. It was nearly a quarter till the sixteenth hour, which was encroaching on what should be the babes naptime.

Their nanny, Zephyrus, should’ve put them to bed already, and it was high time to check and see how they were resting. Normally, Twila slept like a log, soft snores leaving her, similar to her papa in every way. It was Marwa who sometimes struggled with her sleep, waking up in the middle of naptime, coming to her papa’s office to be snuggled and sung back to sleep. Sighing, I pulled myself up from my seat on the tanned leather couch, lifting my feet from Eris’ lap, lightly smacking his shoulder at the groan he had let out as he threw back his head into the couch. I was ready to kiss the babes and give them a quick snuggle, however sexually frustrated my mate was. “Leaving so soon, gorgeous?”

I nearly tripped at the nickname, my heart stuttering for a moment as the bond between us pulled taught. I recovered rather quickly though, my heart returning into the deep yearning feeling for my babes and their warm bodies pressed against mine, clinging onto my hold and whining in their sleep for more soft kisses to their foreheads and cheeks, their mama’s attention something they craved even in their deepest of dreams. “I’ve been here for two hours Er, giving you my undivided attention,” I replied in a rather deadpan tone, the poor male could really never get enough of me, and he made that quite clear with another groan that slipped from his lips. I scoffed at the high lord of Autumn, “so fucking needy aren’t you?” sending him a smirk, swaying my hips as I turned toward the exit. I could hear him shuffle behind me, the image clear in my head that he was adjusting his hard on; another smirk tugged at my lips, one that was now hidden from my mate.

As I turned to shut the door, I brought my hand up to blow Eris a kiss, and he, wordlessly, caught it, his beautiful gods-forsaken eyes glinting back at me until the knob had clicked into place. The bond between us was now struggling against me with need, enticing me to run back into the office so Eris could have his way with me, but I was more focused on getting back to the babes. I strolled through the halls, tracing with my eyes, the giant archways and marbled columns that opened into the back forest and plains of the estate before looking to the ceiling. There is a haze of lychee and pear in the breeze that guides the hung roses and peonies that cover whole portions in rocking motions, the portions that sit free are painted with the histories of Prythian breaking into the seven courts that stand today. The inner gardens had fountains that spouted water that glittered like diamonds under the afternoon sun, dazzling rainbows sent in every direction, landing on the swaying leaves of the eldred willow trees that Eris had planted in victory after he had defeated Beron.

I reached their bedroom without haste, admiring the peach pink and lavender shade of the stained glass embedded into the entryway to the babes room, a lovely gift from Rhysand and Feyre when they were born. The rulers of the Night court had been delighted to hear that their own son, Nyx, would have not only one, but two playmates whenever we would find the time to visit their home in Valeris. Our alliance had never been stronger with the Night court, and that was something that both Eris and I had taken great pride in. I cracked the door open, peering into the dark room, only to find the two beds where the babes should be asleep, empty.

A jolt of panic shot through me and down the mating bond without meaning to, the answering tug from Eris, filled with concern and worry. I sucked a tense and heavy breath through my teeth, calming myself into believing I was just an overprotective mother hen. I sent back an ounce of reassurance down the bond, back to Er before hurrying down to the playroom. I convinced myself that it was entirely possible Twila woke early and insisted that Marwa join her for a game of pretending, pushing down the weightful sense of dread that began to fill me. The estate was impossibly protected with wards and spells that Eris himself, along with Lucien and Helion had cast, blocking off any chance of breach. My breath was too difficult to catch as I paced down the hall, a horrible voice croaking in my head, ‘Nothing is impossible, you fool. What if they were taken?”

Hot tears rimmed my eyes as I tore into the playroom. Empty.

Scattered toys were all over the floor, the table in the center still set with the tea cups that Marwa had gotten as a gift from Lucien, ready for the babes and their favorite uncle to join in on their ‘princess party.’ The sun shone in through the window, heating the room to the point where beads of sweat had formed at the top edge of my lip. The panic that I had shoved down reared its ugly head, spreading through me and in full force down the bond as I broke into a sprint towards their tiny classroom where they received their afternoon lessons. Maybe they had been kept by Draconus, the fae professor who, before, had taught Eris and all his brothers, and before them, Beron and his siblings, and so on. Marwa had always complained about the elderly male droning on for lengths beyond their lesson time.

The door banged against the wall with the force that I had used to slam it open.

Fucking Empty.

My hand came up to my chest, clenching at the feeling of my heart squeezing too tightly in my chest, like a noose had been tied around it and tugged. A wave of nausea and dizziness swept through me, sending me tumbling backward. I nearly fell over as a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, turning me to face the person who had caught me, but I couldn’t see. My vision had blurred, blackening around the periphery as ugly, deep sobs ripped through the lump that had lodged into my throat and out of me. A set of warm hands cupped my cheeks, lifting my gaze to meet crazed amber eyes flickering back and forth with mine, “They are gone. Where are… Where are the… Where are my babes?” It comes out rather quietly, stuttered between short and incomplete gasps. Rather breathless. Almost whispered. As if I couldn’t find it within me to speak the horrid words any louder.

My knees gave out completely, any sensation in my legs ceased to exist, but Eris was there to lift me into his embrace, wrapping his arm around my legs and lifting me into a bridal style before resting me on the small desk that Marwa usually sat at. He didn’t wait for another moment, screaming out to his personal guards in the most chilling voice I had ever heard him use, “Lock down this fucking estate. No one moves in or out. Search the entire fucking house. Leave no room unsearched. Turn every piece of fucking furniture over. Find my children, heirs to the Autumn throne. Immediately. Or heads will roll.” His back is turned towards me as he shouted, but the panic he felt rippled down the bond in heavy waves, focusing into a rage that he had never experienced, not even when Beron lived, “and bring me the fucking nanny.”

His guards immediately drew their iron swords at his orders and dispersed rapidly, some running further into the home, some running outside. Splitting into groups of two, one ran towards the outskirts of the estate where Zeyphrus lived to drag her back here, and the other towards the outer forest that surrounded the home. My hands shook as I traced the little carving of Marwa’s name on the small desk, left by what looks to be a very sharp pencil, or possibly, a tiny dagger. I could hardly feel the indents into the wood, my hands tingling with panic and nerves as Eris turned towards me, the fire in his eyes still evident. His hand caught mine, squeezing tightly, “We will find them my love, they will be fine. They are strong and will take care of each other.”

Another sob escaped me as I collapsed into his arms, clinging to his figure for a moment before the shouts of the nanny were heard down the hall. Two of the guards were dragging her by her elbows, she glanced wildly around the room in confusion until she was brought to her knees facing us. She took one long look at Eris’ face, wincing at the cold fury that was directed at her and turned to stare down at the ground, “Where are Marwa and Twila?” Her head snapped up, confusion washing over her face, “I– in bed my lord,” stuttering it out, more as a question than as a statement. She shifted her gaze to me, maybe hoping to find more mercy, mercy that I could not find within me as long as my babes were missing.

She continued, her voice trembling as her body began to shake, the guards tightening their grip on her elbows and yanking her up to face us once more, “My lord, I put them to bed for their daily nap, I– are they not there?” Her cerulean blue eyes filled with tears, panic shone across her face as she begins to process the implications of not knowing where Marwa and Twila were. My tone was piercing, “No, they aren’t.” She began stuttering, but the patience of Eris and I had already been drawn out the moment we found their classroom empty, Eris had fully shifted into the ruthless high lord he once feared becoming, slamming his hand onto the wooden table next to him, his eyes filled with the fire that was stoked by the fear of losing his children, the greatest joys of his life. Zephyrus cried out in fear, flinching as the nearby supply closet lit into a controlled fire, the pent of rage and horror Eris felt bleeding into his surroundings through his fae magic.

But there was something in the way that she had looked at us, the way she had been truly confused, almost flabbergasted that we had been questioning her about the whereabouts of our babes that made me feel as though, deep in my gut, she had nothing to do with this. I felt weak, my hands still tingling from the panic, shakily resting on one of Eris’ forearms, “She doesn’t know anything Er.” Both of their heads jolted towards me, Zephyrus with a look of relief muddled with confusion, and Eris, shaken and upset. The babes adored their nanny, and she loved them. Marwa always has stories of the cuddles she and Zephyrus had, and Twila was filled with tales of their afternoon walks through the forest. She had looked after them since they were born, setting up to help me on the toughest of nights, and the busiest of days.

Er jerked his head at the guards, gesturing for them to take the woman away, likely to a holding cell for further questioning until the babes are found. But it would be pointless. We had sworn her into secrecy and loyalty the day she signed on as our babes nanny, and any movement away from that sworn loyalty, would result in her immediate death by the magic that bound us together. I painfully swallowed against the hard lump in my throat, still struggling to breathe, the pressure in my chest making it only possible to catch my breath, even in small gasps of air.

The fear burned my eyes, I blinked back the stinging tears to prevent them from streaming down into an endless sea of panic. Blowing out the breath from my puffed cheeks, I stared into Eris’ flickering irises, still flaming from the worry. His warm hands came up to cup my cheeks, pulling me closer into him until his forehead was pressed against mine, “You can find them my love,” his lips fluttered above my upper lip as he spoke, “You know them better than anyone. They are your soul, as they are my heart. C’mon sweet girl, think.” His hand marked by our shared tattoo reached down and grabbed hold of my own, pressing it against his chest right where his heart beat. It felt like a hummingbird fluttering against my palm, only slowing with pulses of comfort that waved down our bond.

I tightened my palm into a fist, gripping the soft material of his blood red shirt as I forced myself to think back to where the babes could possibly be. All the areas I had checked were my firstline stream of thoughts, but it was possible they were elsewhere in places I hadn’t even initially thought of. But the possibilities remained endless. Eris and I had been quite strict with incorporating family outings into our schedules. Even as high lord and lady, we still made sure to have one on one time with the babes, girls’ day out with their mama and daddy's day out with their papa, even their favorite uncle, the newly ascendent high lord of Day, Lucien joined in on occasion.

From having their own treehouse built in the sacoya, to private pathways in the forest, to small alcoves for a game of hide and seek, to the rapids of the Sienna river where Eris took them fishing.

They could be anywhere.

And who even knows if they were together?

I sent a silent prayer to the mother and gods above, to any deity who had the sympathy to listen and hopefully, the benevolence to answer such prayers, that they were together, that they remained as a unit of sisters, stuck together with the everlasting love of siblings. I prayed a prayer that they would give me even the smallest of clues as to where they could possibly be, And I hoped that Ruby, their pup, was with them, even as small as he was, it was possible that–.

The pup.

The hounds.

Though Eris’ palm was rubbing the back of my neck, keeping me close to him as he eyed my now concentrated face, I felt myself hurtle back. The fucking hounds. “I– I think I know. Gods, please, I think–,” I couldn't even finish my sentence, already using all my force to push myself off the desk, legs pumping underneath me, carrying me before the thought could even finish itself. I continued crying prayers to myself as I ran, “gods, please, please.” I could barely hear the thudding of Eris’ leather boots against the marbled floor and then the evening dewed grass over the blood that was whooshing in my ears.

Eris slammed into my back, not expecting me to suddenly stop in my tracks. His arm wrapped around my hips as we both stumbled forward, trying to prevent me from being thrown over the stable door as the force of his impact made its way through me. But my feet were planted on the floor, my hand frozen stuck on the door handle. A question comes out of Eris’ mouth, one that I do not hear as I forced myself to take another deep breath, a final beseeching prayer to the cauldron before heaving the heavy door open.

One of my hands reached back to grab Eris’ as I pulled him and I inside, eyes searching over every millimeter of the stable, over and over. The stalls remained childless, with only hay and curious horses peaking at us. My grip tightened its hold on Eris’ hand, squeezing three times on occasion as he paced behind me, rechecking every stall that I have peered into. I switched my path away from the horses and towards the area where the killer hounds were kept. The ones that belonged to Eris, even before I was in his life. The ones who are supposed to tear apart any enemies to the Autumn Court into literal shreds. The ones who are known to maul intruders of the estate.

The ones that have the softest of soft spots for the babes and I.

The ones who used to whine at our bedroom door until Eris would get out of bed to open the door for them. The ones who would rush into the room and pounce onto the bed to snuggle against me. The ones who refused to leave my side during my pregnancy, taking turns laying their head on my swollen belly. The ones who stood at the doorway during the birth of the babes, growling at any sentry who walked past the room. The ones who licked the small toes of Marwa, and sniffed at Twila’s little fists. The ones who ran ahead during our family hikes to warn us of any pedestrians ahead. The ones who slowed their trots to match pace with the small toddling of Marwa and Twila. The ones who patiently allowed for Twila to climb onto their backs, who screamed with joy, “Onward Buster!” forcing them to carry her to wherever the little one pleased. The ones who sat with Marwa, who settled herself on their side, reading tiny books to them, pointing out the pictures with her chubby pointer finger which they would attentively stare at.

And there they are.

I took a moment, soaking in the scene before me, pressing my hands into my belly, trying to quiet the sobs that are forcing their way through my body. I heard a gasp of relief from Eris, who hugged me from behind and stroked the backs of my hand, popping a quick kiss into my cheek and then on my temple before resting his head on top of mine. He slowly swayed us side to side, enjoying the most adorable, relieving sight he had ever seen in his entire lifetime.

Twila was curled into Marwa, her pudgy arm clinging to her sister's soft, plush belly. Marwa’s head was turned toward Twila’s, her tiny hand tightly gripping her sisters, the both of them fast asleep, cuddled together, surrounded by the warmth of the twelve killer hounds that Eris had raised. Their pup lay on his stomach, snoring softly as the babes feet rested under him, acting as a miniature comforter.

It was Marwa who woke first, hearing the shuffling of her mama and papa trying to move around the hounds to reach them. Her tiny fist released her sister's hand, rubbing at her sleep crusted eyes, a tiny yawn escaping her as she sat up and stretched, her adorable rounded belly sticking out. “Mama?” Her voice is heavy with sleep, her eyes half lidded as she fought off falling back into her dreams.

I choked down another sob, reaching down for her, my smile watery and full as her arms automatically reached out so she could be held, “Hello my beautiful little babe.” I pulled her into my embrace, clutching at her dress and stuffing my face into her messy, knotted hair, “And what kind of mischief have you and your sister gotten into little one?” Her legs could barely wrap around my waist, her arms tightly wrapped around my neck as she buried her face into my shoulder, taking a deep sigh of content as she took in her mothers scent. Eris finally reached the passed out Twila, who continued snoring quietly as he lifted her up into his chest. He planted a kiss onto her nose, which twitched at the tickling sensation, before she snuggled deeper into his warmth. He rocked her, patting the space between her shoulders to soothe her back into her deep sleep. The hounds lifted their deadly stares at us, taking a moment to recognize who we are, before resting their heads back onto their feet.

I huffed out a snort, rolling my eyes while I approached Eris, focused more so on bending over to kiss Twila’s ruddy, warm cheeks than the napping hounds. Marwa grumbled, wriggling deeper into my embrace when Eris landed a sloppy kiss onto her forehead. He sent a smirk my way, bumping his hip into mine as we strolled out of the stables, “They really are your children,” his voice is hoarse, but filled with mirth and fondness. I scoffed, bumping his hip in return, much rougher than I had initially intended, “And what is that supposed to mean fireboy?” I side-eyed him, pursing my lips into a wicked grin as he flushed red at the nickname. “I mean, they fall asleep anywhere and everywhere at any time. And I wonder who they got that from,” boring his amber eyes into mine without any sense of hesitation.

I playfully gasped at the hidden accusation, tickling the bottoms of Marwa’s feet who kicked them out and cackled as I stared incredulously at her, “Do you hear your papa little one? How ridiculous is he?” She leaned in, pecking my lips with a tiny kiss, before pulling back, her chocolate brown eyes bright and sparkling, “So so ri-ducky-lucky mama.” Eris chomped his teeth at her, “Honk honk,” snickering at her cheerful yelps. He settled the napping Twila, who had a tranquil smile gracing her face, on his hip, reaching his free hand, tattooed with our marriage vows to rest on the small of my back as we walked back to the estate.

They were most definitely sleeping in our room at nightfall.

Masterlist

General taglist: @nyotamalfoy @brekkershadowsinger @kennedy-brooke @fieldofdaisiies

#Girl dad!Eris x reader #girl dad!Eris #girl dad eris x reader #girl dad!eris vanserra #marwa and twila #babes #acotar fanfic #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra as a girl dad #girl dad!#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra acotar #eris acotar #girl dad!er

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y-rhywbeth2 · 6 months ago

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Clothes and Fashion

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest, etc etc etc]

Clothes in general; underwear; not wasting trousers on children who'll only outgrow them within the week; pockets! Sparkly hats; cosmetics; the word for hair care products; etc.

Demihuman cultures might vary slightly from this, but will generally follow the gist of it and they're all noted to be far less fashion conscious than humans. Dwarves, gnomes and orcs as a norm like to dress practically in durable clothes. Halflings, goblins and kobolds will blend in quietly until special occasions, where they'll dress as brightly and colourfully as possible. Elves have their own various culture-specific fashion trends, but mostly tend to wear whatever the hell they personally feel like wearing, be that human fashion, diaphanous gowns, or just living plants trained to be worn as garments with some jewellery.

Underwear:

Dethmas: '...a tight cloth breast-binding or sling (the equivalent of a modern sports bra, although instead of stretchy fabric covering a lot of skin, the Realms version is more like a trough or shelf of tightly-stretched cloth sewn to cords (precisely because elastic fabric is largely unknown in the Realms).

The concept of wire for breast support and shaping is unknown in the Realms, but corsets (laced-up, tight boiled hide, not whalebone or any sort of stiffeners) and stomachers that cinch the waist tight are popular, and many of them have shaped panels for the hips and a top ‘shelf’ to thrust out and support the breasts. Corsets are also unisex garments.

Clouts: '...a very tight leather, cloth, or cord (listed here in descending order of perceived quality and durability) belt worn around the hips, and usually held tight by multiple hooks (like a modern bra) at the front. Then a long, diaper-like strip of rectangular cloth (usually cotton) is passed between the legs, up through the front of the belt to dangle down, and up through the back of the belt to dangle down. [...] In many cases, the dangling front and back ends are designed to be tied together, and the cloth may be folded in on itself for absorbency [menstruation] and padding [horse riding].' Clouts come in fancy lingerie styles and are easily available in cities. Those who menstruate place extra layers of thick red cloth in and change as necessary.

Codpieces are also normally worn.

Black - and especially red - are considered the 'sexy' colours, especially when applied to undergarments. I'm going to make a different post about dating and so on in Faerûn though, so I'll talk about dressing sexy there instead.

Children:

Nobody wastes money getting complicated clothes for growing children who are going to outgrow their garments in a matter of weeks or months. All children wear smocks, usually hand-me-downs, ‘with leggings or pull-on hose (long stockings tied to an underbelt to keep them from “riding down”) with boots, clogs, slippers for indoor wear, or bare feet.’

Nevertheless, customisation is common enough in children’s clothes. Things such as belts, scarves, deliberately arranging a too-big smock to bare one shoulder in a way that I do remember doing myself as a child, curiously.

General:

The majority of people in the Realms can afford a sizable wardrobe. Daily wear tends to be practical, but almost everyone has some kind of fine clothing they’ll bring out on special occasions. Noble and the wealthy women are often seen in fancy gowns, but will likely be wearing practical garb underneath and be prepared to pin up their hems if need be. Nobles also really like their cloaks

All cities and markets will have tailors and seamstresses for altering garments as necessary, whether as repairs and maintenance or for aesthetics like dyes and adornments. Almost all clothiers found in cities are prepared to do on-the-spot alterations. Enameled metals, coloured cut-glass and painted wire are popular amongst the working glass who want to look flashy but can’t afford genuine fancy stuff. Many outfits may be modified, so that armour such as breastplates and gorgets are disguised within fabric and bodices, or jerkins reinforced with armour plating.

Breeches and tunics, the former usually made of leather, are the most common garment on all genders in most of the continent. Skirts are rarely seen, though gowns are common enough. Bare arms, a low neckline that exposes a ‘little bosom’, and a hemline at the mid-calf or lower is considered dressing conservatively. 'Low-cut peasant blouses and even lace trimmings are widely used.'

Keyhole necklines are common along the trade routes of the Heartlands, and they're called 'gracetels' which is an elven word of unknown meaning. The elven empire of Cormanthor was known for skin-exposing risqué fashions (by real-world and in-universe dwarven and gnomish standards, at least), so possibly the word comes from there, although humans were cutting their clothes like this long before Netheril.

It's also called a 'heartbare' or 'heartbearing' cut, and Waterdhavian generation of the 1350s to the 1370s called it a 'splendour-glance.'

The commons style of jerkin on Faerun is a heavy, fitted garment that goes down to the knees and fastens down the front or side by a sustem of toggles and loops. Shoulder padding and a stand-up collar are common, and they usually have pockets (internal or external)

Most people will be wearing belts and baldrics (belts that go diagonally across the chest, over the shoulder) for holding clothes up and carrying items.

A tammalar is a type of baldric with many pouches attached.

Bracelars are leather braces with pouches, popular with merchants.

'...and the scrip, which in recent centuries has come to mean a large piece of leather or cloth with sewn-on ties or thongs, and sewn-on loop or sleeves for those ties to go through. It is gathered up (around goods, to form a carrysack) into a bundle, and kept that way by threading ties through the sleeves (and a user’s belt, to carry it at the hip or hanging from the rear waist).'

Typical shoes are either boots or open-toed sandals. Thigh-high boots and stiletto heels canonically exist, ways to make them stop murdering your feet when you wear them apparently do not.

Hat fashions come and go rapidly. A ‘fancy-me’ or ‘dee’ is a hat that’s been augmented with several feathers, gauze, gemstones and various sparkly things, usually worn by those concerned with fashion.

Outdoors wear:

Weathercloaks are ankle-length cloaks made from a light material held together by a brooch. They’re noted to not be much use at keeping the cold out, but are better than nothing. Those with more coin can afford leather longcoats that keep the rain off and greatcloaks for the cold.

Piercings:

Ear piercings and naval piercings are common, but other piercings are much more rarely seen outside of some priests who have ritual piercings for religious reasons. In the Western Heartlands (including the Gate) piercing your nostrils is also normal.

A person who has piercings other than these areas is assumed to be clergy, as these alterations are done for religious rites of passages rather than cosmetics.

Cosmetics:

Makeup on Toril is called 'fleshpaint' in the tradestongue (i.e., Common), and apparently 'dardarra' in Chondathan and 'adratha' in Alzhedo (unless those are localised words in dialects of Common. It wasn't specified). Apparently they don't know the word 'makeup' at all.

The stuff that we'd recognise as cosmetics is created from a powder base of mud or chalk, mixed with the boiled essences of bark, reptile hide, plant matter or whatever else and then some kind of lipid (animal fat, seed oil, etc), simmered over heat before having colours and maybe scents added in. High-end brands may be enchanted with cantrips or orisons to keep it from going bad.

Fleshpaint is mostly popular in the south (Vilhon reach and lower), with most of the cosmetics industry working in southern Tethyr, the Vilhon, Chessenta and etc.

In the northern half of Faerûn, for the most part, your cosmetics options are mostly stuff like crushed berries that temporarily dye the skin that you can make in the kitchen.

Obviously trade hubs like the Gate and Waterdeep import the stuff, though it may not be cheap. You can buy it from street stalls or from beauty stores. Average decent quality product is 4-8gp, with the worse stuff peddled on the street going for 4sp (which is a decent chunk of most people's weekly wages gone). The luxury brands go for 20-75+gp per tiny bottle. It's also mostly popular with nobles and the nouveau-riche 'who may have closets full of a wide selection of scents, fleshpaints, specialized lip-paints, and so on.'

There's also a trend for doing decorative beauty spots in fancy shapes (flowers, stars, etc) painted onto the skin with something like a very thin tapered stick... or tattooed under the skin with a needle.

Painting your nails is also popular.

Hair:

Thurdrixes are hair products that work as dyes or to encourage hair growth (up to several inches a day). These treatments are also expensive, and may not be widely trusted due to being arcane magic. These products usually have long, fanciful sounding names.

Barbers and trained hairdressers aren't much of a thing, though they do exist. Usually you ask a family member to cut it for you, so there's not much call for professionals in the market

Plucking and shaving body hair is a fashion in the Southern hemisphere, but not really present in the rest of Faerûn (so not common in Baldur's Gate outside of places like Little Calimshan).

The fashion for men in the Heartlands is to have facial hair, though no particular style is more popular than others. Illuskans favour long beards, provided that they're not too impractical. Calishite fashion involves oils and perfumes to keep lice out, and a popular fashion in the South is for bare chins and long moustaches and sideburns which may well be seen further north due to trade and migration.

#lore stuff #Elminster's Forgotten Realms is just like browsing ye olde Candlekeep archives but with less talk of sex

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sweetnxthingz-yandere · 2 years ago

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The perfect pet

CW: kiddnaping, non-con touching, light tourture, master/servant roles, fem reader, human trafficing, mindbreak.

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It seemed it was only a few days ago you were snatched away from your simple lifestyle, your friends and family. Kiddnapped and involuntarily sold on the black market, to being bought and compeled to be a servant to the large daunting man who sat behind you, working silently.

You felt his warm breath cascade across your neck at every exhale he made, sending shivers down your spine. one of his large hands gripped the soft, bare skin of your upper thigh, massaging lightly. He had you perched upon his thigh, “sitting prettily to warm his lap”, as he said. His office was silent aside from the fireplace crackling and the sound of his fountain pen scratching across paper.

“Master?” You questioned softly.

His sharp eyes darted to meet yours, a permanent scowl adorned his visage as his eyes traveled over your face. He spoke in a hushed tone.

“Yes, my pet~”

You felt your stomach flutter at the tone, squirming lightly ontop of his lap. You heard the sound of his pen stop and he pressed his chest closer against your back.

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

His now unoccupied hand slowly made its way to your waist. Fingers brushing over your chest, the tight maid dress he insisted you wore, pushing your breast up. Exposing your cleavage for his predatory, roaming eyes. Taking note of your hesitation he placed a ringed finger in your chin, tapping your lips with the rough pad of his thumb.

“Speak.”

“A-Are you sure you want me to sit on you lap this long? I don’t want you to be uncomfotable master.” You stated hesitantly.

Pulling your body closer to his chest his warm breath right on the side of your face. Soft lips grazed over your ear as he spoke huskily. “Pet, if i didnt want you here you wouldve been gone a long time ago”.

Pulling away he laid back on his chair as you sat and pondered his words. looking behind, you met his gaze as you lightly inquired.

“do...you mean...?”

His eyes narowed when he spoke, “ Yes. Things or people who do not please me don’t last long. But you are special, thats why I bought you. I know you won’t disappoint me.” while he spoke he turned you in his lap to face him. Large hands finding purchase on the supple skin of your ass.

Those simple words snapped you back to a hard reality you forgtten about. Youve been with this man for what, weeks?...Months? In that time you have forgotten how much of a dangerous man he is.

You remember how Harshly he broke you in when you first arrived to his sucluded residence.

The countless escape attempts, endless times fighting aganist everything he forced you to do, days without food or water to break you down, hours of crying in the dark basement where he tied you up.

But...

After the horrid tourture ended he comforted you, held you while you cried and begged him to let you out the cold basement, treated your wounds after your attemps for freedom failed once again, putting ice on brusies he created when he savagely grabbed you.

Finally he broke you, and here you sat obedently at his every beck and call.

The perfect pet

You felt your eyes water at the sudden recollection. Your stomach dropped as you comprehended the false sense of hope he lured you into. Tears fell down your face as you abbrubtly hugged his form, face buried in his neck. You felt a hand pat your hair as another rubbed your back consoling you. He always loved comforting you when you got like this.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere blog #yandere x reader #master #servant #kiddnapping #yandere prompt #cw noncon #black market

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tvreadsandsleep · 2 years ago

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » Also inspired by this piece of amazing fanart by @xblackreader. «

Stood in the shower, the hot water cascading down her body, Okoye gave a sigh of relief. The bustle of the day melted away, flowing down the drain as she washed off the grime she’d accumulated during her travels. The wash up she’d done that morning, after her sunrise run and calisthenics, hadn’t been this soothing: a quick scrub and rinse to rid her body of sweat before she kissed Attuma good-bye, hurrying to meet Nakia for breakfast.

The rest of her day had seen her navigating the marketplace (her kitchen’s bare cabinets the catalyst for her trip), where the mouthwatering aromas of all the available food clung to her skin and clothing. After she’d finished shopping, she’d paid M20 his daily visit on her way back. The rhino’s licks of affection had left her cheeks feeling sticky, the brillo pad of his tongue abrasive on her skin. Plus, the odor of animal excretions was added to the kaleidoscope of scents she’d obtained from the market. Dropping her purchases off at home, she’d then gone to meet Aneka for one of their tri-weekly training sessions. This had led, again, to her being drenched in sweat, and though she felt satisfied, her muscles pleasantly fatigued, she was ready to clean herself and spend what remained of her day in tranquil relaxation.

Her wishes beginning to come to fruition, Okoye tipped her head forward under the spray of water. Another sigh left her lips and they curved into a smile, her eyes closing for a brief moment as she inhaled the steamy air. She reached for her favorite lavender body wash, and was busying herself with lathering up her washcloth when she heard a shifting from beyond the shower stall’s entrance. Before she could react, the door was pulled open, and the massive frame of her boyfriend blocked the bathroom’s light.

His eyes roamed over her naked body, heating it in a different, much more carnal, way than the shower currently was.

“I didn’t think you would be home until late,” she said, continuing with what she’d been preparing to do. Under his leer, she ran the soapy cloth over her arms and chest. She spent more time than necessary stroking her breasts, lifting and fondling them with the suds for his benefit. She smirked at his deep inhalation then moved to lave the rest of her body.

He ignored her statement, his eyes steady on her, groaning when she bent forward to wash her legs and feet.

“May I join you,” he asked, finally speaking.

She paused in her bathing, the water flowing to rinse her skin, and looked him over. She’d expected to see lust in his eyes, but the underlying mischievousness in his expression was slightly unsettling—especially when he flashed his teeth at her, his tongue running over their sharp edges.

“Only if you behave.”

“Of course, my love.” He made quick work of removing his clothes, unconscious to where he threw them.

She was readying to lecture him about putting them in the hamper, but he stepped into the stall and crowded her against its wall before she could speak. He kissed her right shoulder, tenderly moving his lips along her skin. She leaned into his chest, letting her head be supported by his body. Lulled into a sense of calm, her eyes snapped wide open at the sting of his teeth sinking into her flesh.

“Ow,” she exclaimed, swatting at his head. She twisted in his hold and leveled a glare in his direction. “I told you to behave. I’m not done and I don’t need you distracting me.”

“I am behaving,” he claimed, moving to take a bite at her opposite arm. He was, for the second time, met by the slap of her hand, this one on his chest.

“This is not behaving, Attuma.” She tried to sound stern, but the hold his teeth had taken on her left cheek impeded her efforts. “Attuma!” She whined, closing her eye, lest it be poked out by his nose.

After a short time, his jaw relaxed, unhanding her face.

“I am behaving, my love. Had I not been, I would have immediately removed you from this chamber to receive me, on your hands and knees, in the comfort of our bed. I am behaving by allowing you to complete your cleaning ritual.”

Conceding his point, Okoye pouted softly. On one hand, she mourned the loss of her quiet evening, while, on the other, she was excited about where this bit of foreplay would lead. Rest was, without a doubt, no longer in her near future. Attuma was sure to filled their evening and night with passionate lovemaking.

Yes, she was now loved—far more tenderly and thoroughly than she’d ever been before—but at what cost? The question echoed in her head as Attuma gathered her closer to lay another bite on her, this time aiming for her breast.

#okoye x attuma #attuma x okoye #attoye #okoye #attuma #mywriting #attoyedailyprompt #domesticattoye #black panther #wakanda forever

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pearls-notes-from-asia · 6 months ago

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Day 12

Korea is so much funner than Japan. Why? 1) Better coffee. 2) Louder people. 3) Shin ramen. 4) Nengmyun. 5) Ddukbokki.

Also look at this chef-ed ramen that Josh made.

He added tuna and sausage. I had regular instant ramen like a normal person. We also mixed muscat grape juice with Chilsung and took turns drinking it before it went flat. I can't tell if it was the food or the views that made Namsan Tower worth it—all 20,000 steps!

In the morning, we had gone to a retro themed cafe called 을지빈. There we read the sixth part of Psalm 119, which talked about the boldness and freedom that the Word brings. It encouraged us. In my current 복잡한 mind, I especially loved verse 45: "I will walk freely in an open place / because I study your precepts."

Afterwards Josh worked and I read Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami. It was cool to read it after just visiting Tokyo—I recognized all the subway line references.

Then, I went to the 12-floor Daiso and picked up stain remover, an eyeliner, a contour stick, and some pads. There was a line at the elevators so I walked up and down eight floors there too. When I got back to the Airbnb, Josh and I left for Namdaemun Market. We ate some 분식 but didn't buy anything because the stalls were closing for the most part when we arrived. Our evening was walking (hiking?) up to the Namsan Tower, enjoying the skyline, eating food, and walking home.

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muu-kun · 1 year ago

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Speaking of fashion, I will eventually have the appropriate amount of time to dedicate myself to a proper attire headcanon post. For now, I only have examples for silhouettes pertaining to dresses gathered. Which at this point can ultimately be narrowed down in explanation as Muu holding preference for a bodice that does not require even just a modest breast size.

Although he does wear bralettes (which is not out of gender dysphoria or euphoria on any account actually. Instead, it is more so like a running joke with himself at this point due to the fact he's actually had an infatuation with wearing them since he was a sixteen year old boy that found a bra lying in the street) he doesn't do so with the intent of applying padding to them-- especially when considering the fact he has some minor gynaecomastia due to stubbornly persistent baby fat going on. He can deal with those, but he definitely doesn't want to even so much as imply he has "real breasts."

He also isn't one to gravitate towards those built around the necessity for breasts due to the fact that he does not wish for the attire adorning his body to appear as though something (or somethings) is missing. Which is also the given reason why even in his decision to wear what is considered women's underwear underneath the dresses similar to above, he does not engage in the act of tucking. Yes, that does come within treacherous territory per the fact that he is then advertising himself as a flamboyantly youthful individual with an occasionally visible (and not incredibly well endowed, mind you) genitalia outline in his attire. That's not even to mention the detectability of his disabilities on establishing conversation with him.

Beyond that, he's not too partial to much else. Length and material is otherwise irrelevant as long as he can freely move within it to accommodate an in-between active and sedentary lifestyle. He would also best appreciate those that are not overwhelming to the senses in one manner or another-- this includes itchiness, heaviness, lack of breathability, and so on. Textures usually aren't too worrisome to him, however, as he has been raiding the closet of his female friends (such as Hannah of @kannojo predominantly) for years, so by now he knows what he does and doesn't like with enough ease that even unexpectedly finding something is unappealing to him van be easily remedied without any fit.

The bottom line with all of this is while Muu strictly wears what is primarily marketed as women's clothing, he does not do so out of the desire to be a woman. In fact, he's asked that question within himself many times only to come up with the same conclusion each time: He is simply an aged up boy caught up in having to navigate too many things at once, therefore eccentricities intended to lighten his load have transpired. Being that 99% of abusers have been men throughout the years, and women his sanctuary from them, it became sensible at some point for him to cease one struggle for favor of mirroring his safety while he sources through another. Muu has no idea even how to be a person yet, let alone a gendered one.

That is also not to say he wishes to abolish entirely in favor of utilizing they/them pronouns. In fact, it still remains quite the opposite. At this time in his life, he's not looking to be othered more than he always has acquired for himself. Being gridlocked into a perpetual state of regression in his present has been isolating enough as is that he doesn't wish for more beyond that. It also has intriguingly been almost beneficial in keeping some of his identity centered, though, as being so interwoven with his inner teen provides connection with the perspective of character held back then.

When he was sixteen, he was very self assured in nearly all aspects in life until led to second guessing the bulk of them. Of those is one of which where he was well adamant that he was a boy with a preference for he/him pronouns to demonstrate that. And while he's been able to find appreciation for femininity that he'd have otherwise mocked in his youth, that is as far as it goes for the time being. Working beyond the semantics of that just isn't on the table at this time in his life.

Where he might go with it during Pride Month is still up to him, but, really, his focus is far more centered on fulfilling and answering other aspects of his person at this time. Generalized comfort and safety are of the utmost importance to his emotionally led manner of living. Once that is established, whether or not he opts for reintroducing what is considered men's attire back into his wardrobe is completely up in the air.

#; ♡ ; headcanons #muu doesn't even necessarily actively consider himself nonbinary due to the fact that he's open to the possibility #that he will feel centered in his identity as a man just as he was with boyhood once he is no longer Terrified to exist as is #identifying as genderflux in some aspect is definitely a cluch for him in regards to #when you've heard from people your whole life that you are not a man for aspects relating to maturity and physical appearance #you eventually may find yourself going I'm not a man maybe!! Out of safety and hopefulness that doing so might make people be kind to you #socially he definitely feels abandoned by masculinity and blocked out of spaces by his peers #but being a woman has never fit right in his head either as he genuinely knows he does not Want to be one #what he wants to feel included and wanted with so the bulk of muses who've so far made him feel that way are women #and only really a couple men at best with fran at the top of the list #women wise he has neff who he has commented even himself to be the only person not including his canon wife #to love him unconditionally #and suki who after one stint or another involving sully and calix was the only person to ask him how he was feeling #I'm also including lyla per the fact that she is one of few he can be fun and funny with which may not sound like a lot #but when you carry the burden of holding a notoriety for being melancholic it is actually really an act of kindness #to be considered something other than that even just once because he did used to be very cheeky back in the day #nowadays he just spends so much time worrying about what characteristics of himself must be so grotesque to others around him #that he's lost the ability to even breathe too loud around another person let alone take up space and time beyond that #which is actually why I find it very fitting he wears women's clothing because which section of the binary has gone centuries being told #to stay out of sight and out of mind for their own safety ??#not to mention the fact that can one really be too surprised that someone deeply in need of nurturing spaces #would then decide to dress like a woman because of the connection with motherhood #being that moms are usually the poster parent for unconditional love which is a whole mixed bag I'm not getting into today #nonetheless the bottom line is still that muu does not identify as either transgender transsexual or even as a crossdresser as #none feel applicable to him at this time and instead he's solid in being people's eccentric friend who happens to be #both feminine and jovial and most Definitely sensitive all while he figures out all else beyond that

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shinebrightlikeanarwhal · 2 years ago

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Kenneth having to wear absorbency-pad tops under his normal tops because if a baby cries his nipples start leaking, and him being thankful he found that out at home and not during his sermon.

Travis definitely didn’t play a video with a baby crying just for Kenneth to learn this. Totally didn’t help his dad out for the third time this week.

He totally didn’t misplace an add for the new and improved model of absorbency pads circulating the market. Totally just perfect time. And he definitely didn’t tell Kenneth they should head to that store to pick up some baby stuff! Totally not a stress free way of Kenneth being able to pick up some pads.

I just know his business partner enjoys the free drink. Fuller breasts and a snack from his snack. A great time to be alive. (Travis hates them for ruining motherhood for him)

I just know this is a chunky lil baby. All cute and rotund. Hardly cries unless their needs are NOT met. Likes to cuddle with their mommy or Travis. Really likes to cling to Travis. Cries when someone takes him out of Travis’ arms, even if it’s Kenneth.

#sally face #sally face au #travis phelps #intersex kenneth phelps #kenneth phelps

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geniebrasuk · 2 years ago

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The Best Bras for Women – A Review

New Post has been published on https://geniebras.co.uk/the-best-bras-for-women-a-review/

The Best Bras for Women – A Review

The Best Bras for Women – Is There Such A Thing?

Blog Introduction: A good bra is an essential piece of clothing for any woman. Not only do they provide support, but they also help to create a flattering shape. With so many different styles and brands on the market, it can be difficult to know which one is right for you. That’s why we’ve put together this review of the best bras for women, to help make your decision a little easier.

The Balconette Bra

A balconette bra is a great option if you’re looking for something that provides both support and style. They usually have wider straps and cups that cover more of the breast, making them ideal for larger bust size be worn with lower cut necklines without showing too much cleavage. Balconettes also tend to give the illusion of a lifted bust.

Plunge Bra

A plunge bra is perfect if you’re looking for something that will show off your cleavage. They have a V-shaped neckline that dips down in the center, which creates a flattering silhouette. Plunge bras are also available in a variety of different fabrics and colors, so you can find one that suits your needs.

Push Up Bra

As the name suggests, push-up bras are designed to push your breasts up and together to create a fuller, more voluptuous look. They usually have padding in the cups to help achieve this effect and can be worn with a variety of different outfits. If you’re looking for something to wear under a low-cut top or dress, then a push-up bra is a good option.

Conclusion:

There are many different types of bras available on the market, so it’s important to know what style you’re looking for before making a purchase. We hope that this review has helped you. Always find something that is comfortable and fit right for your shape, you are unique after all! Thank you for reading.

#balconette bra #plunge bra #push up bra #womens bra

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sunnyuto · 3 months ago

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This is somewhat of a niche issue in comparison but the bra example brought it to mind.

I am someone who is in between what might be called “midsize” and “small fat.” When talking about bras, I wear a 40D, which, all things considered, isn’t really that large of either a cup size or a band size. I also happen to have a permanent medical device on my rib cage that makes it very painful to wear bras with underwires.

It is truly insane the number of bras and bathing suit tops that will be completely wireless and marketed as such until you hit the D cups. It is possible to make wireless bras that are supportive for larger breasts, I know because I literally have some! But for some reason, some companies can’t fathom the idea of simply adding a bit more padding or a slightly strong strap to support larger breasts instead of relying on wires. They’re not constructing them differently to better fit our bodies, they’re taking a cop out to avoid having to put actual effort into making clothes for fat people. Like OP’s friend, I have found my white whales, my unicorn bras that actually support me while being wireless, and if they were ever to be discontinued, I would actually probably cry.

(For anyone wondering, the bras in question are the Smooth Wireless Bra by Gailife which seems to exist only on Amazon and the Foam Wirefree Bra by Beauty By Bali which I found at Target but is a common brand in most department stores. I wear an XXL in the Gailife bra and a 40D in the Bali bra, both of which are true to fit. The Gailife bra also has completely removable straps.)

We don’t talk enough about the systemic health effects of casual fatphobia and how much they fucking skew the data to the point where we literally cannot know how much outcomes are actually related to fatness and how much they are related to society not being designed for fat people, like literal design.

My best friend cannot find a bra.

She’s fat. We won’t get into the ~why~ here because it honestly wouldn’t matter whether it was “all her fault” or whether it was a result of outside forces like genes and such, she still deserves a goddamn fucking bra that fits.

And she cannot find a bra.

She’s short and fat, and Fat Bras are usually full cup, but because she’s short the full cups are usually too tall, or the armbands around them are too tall, to the point where what’ll fit around her chest and over her boobs will also dig up into her arms or have such high coverage that she literally cannot wear a shirt with a neckline high enough. Any bra that goes out enough goes too high.

This affects her ability to find clothing, impacting her ability to go outside sometimes, because she has this tiny selection of bras and she constantly has to wash them and when they’re gone she has no idea when she’ll next be able to find another unicorn bra. They appear in a flash usually in startups that die soon after, and COVID has killed most the small businesses remaining where she had even a hint of a chance of finding a fitting bra.

So she wears bras that don’t fit. Or she doesn’t leave the house. One gives her back pain. The other is, obviously, not very active. She likes to be active.

If she brings it up, people suggest breast reduction surgery.

But the thing is, with a good bra, she does not get back pain.

But if it’s that hard to find a good bra, they say, wouldn’t a reduction just be easier?

Wouldn’t it be easier for you to chop off part of your flesh, they say, then for us to cut fabric and underwire to more sizes? As if that is normal. As if that isn’t horrifying.

It’s not just bras. It’s chairs. It’s benches. It’s goddamn shoes. It’s seatbelts. It’s exercise equipment - I just got an exercise bike for Christmas. I had to shop around to find an affordable one that was also rated to take my level of fat. If I were 100 pounds heavier, which some people are? I don’t think any equipment would have existed in a price range that any working person could expect to afford. I don’t think most people even look at the weight ratings on chairs and couches and furniture. Once you start? They are lower than you think. There are absolutely 100% people you love in your life - whether really tall men or just average kinda overweight fat people - who should not be using the things they are using. Who are not getting support from their mattress, their footwear, their office chair. It might be you! You might be thinking “but I am average size!”, but the amount of furniture out there that’s only weighted to about 200lbs? Or 175??? It’s SO MUCH MORE THAN YOU REALIZE. Get into the Proper Fat? The 350lb, 400lb, 500lb fat? There’s virtually nothing.

Seatbelts are not tested for fat bodies and seatbelt extenders aren’t regulated.

We know about the problems with too small a blood pressure cuff. With too low a medicine dose. With no MRI a really fat body can fit in for a thousand miles.

We know, from multiple studies on multiple oppressed communities, that social bias by itself, with zero other compounding factors, can give people worse health outcomes.

Now add up

+ one of the social biases with the least pushback even from the educated liberal set with

+ having a world that is literally not made for you. Where you cannot get clothes, furniture, or transportation in a way that will actually accommodate you,

+ where society is constantly blaming you for this. And even if you somehow (and if you know how, please tell me) manage to retain some sense of self worth and optimism and determination despite all that

+ that’s not gonna magically give you access to the daily supplies a person needs in their home and out in public that’ll make living safe and healthy life literally physically possible.

If you’re really so concerned about fat people’s health start a bra company. If you’re really so concerned about fat people’s health mandate changes to seatbelt requirements. If you’re really so concerned about fat people’s health have a variety of chairs in your waiting room with at least some being properly Fat Rated. If you’re really so concerned about fat people’s health, make it easier for fat people to be active by making exercise equipment that fits them, swimwear that’ll actually stay on them, athletic shoes that can bear them. If you’re really so concerned about fat people’s health ask they be included in more medical trials. If you’re really so concerned about fat people’s health, promote fat visibility and fat people loving their bodies - because hating yourself has literally never been good for anyone’s health.

If you’re using “concern for health” as a shield to allow you to judge and criticize strangers, you don’t give a fuck about anyone’s health. You’re just an asshole who prefers a veneer of respectability when you bully people. You’re hateful and we can see right through you.

But fatphobia isn’t just bullying. It isn’t just judgment from strangers. It isn’t just medical neglect and medical bias. Even if we could wave a wand and make all that go away, my best friend still wouldn’t have a bra that fits, people still wouldn’t have a chair that supports them, a seatbelt that protects them. It’s literally engineered in. And it slowly kills people day by day by day.

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