#I loved making stables for all the different animals

[honeybunluna]

I’ve been playing minecraft for years and I honestly didn’t know half this shit. Mostly because vanilla minecraft was so hostile and confusing to me that I just added a bunch of mods that fundamentally changed that game (also I haven’t played much higher then like, 1.17?) I think the last mod pack I put together pretty much turned it into a peaceful farming sim, except the ghosts that replaced the hostile mobs at night

Wow the updates to villager trading in Minecraft are shit

[insipid-drivel]

Horses: Since There Seems To Be A Knowledge Gap

I'm going to go ahead and preface this with: I comment pretty regularly on clips and photos featuring horses and horseback riding, often answering questions or providing explanations for how or why certain things are done. I was a stable hand and barrel racer growing up, and during my 11 year tenure on tumblr, Professional Horse Commentary is a very niche, yet very necessary, subject that needs filling. Here are some of the literary and creative gaps I've noticed in well meaning (and very good!) creators trying to portray horses and riding realistically that... well, most of you don't seem to even be aware of, because you wouldn't know unless you worked with horses directly!

Some Of The Most Common Horse + Riding Mistakes I See:

-Anybody can ride any horse if you hold on tight enough/have ridden once before.

Nope. No, no, no, no, aaaaaaaand, no. Horseback riding has, historically, been treated as a life skill taught from surprisingly young ages. It wasn't unusual in the pre-vehicular eras to start teaching children as young as 4 to begin to ride, because horses don't come with airbags, and every horse is different. For most adults, it can take months or years of regular lessons to learn to ride well in the saddle, and that's just riding; not working or practicing a sport.

Furthermore, horses often reject riders they don't know. Unless a horse has been trained like a teaching horse, which is taught to tolerate riders of all skill and experience levels, it will take extreme issue with having some random person try to climb on their back. Royalty, nobility, and the knighted classes are commonly associated with the "having a favorite special horse" trope, because it's true! Just like you can have a particularly special bond with a pet or service animal that verges on parental, the same can apply with horses. Happy horses love their owners/riders, and will straight-up do their best to murder anyone that tries to ride them without permission.

-Horses are stupid/have no personality.

There isn't a more dangerous assumption to make than assuming a horse is stupid. Every horse has a unique personality, with traits that can be consistent between breeds (again, like cat and dog breeds often have distinct behavior traits associated with them), but those traits manifest differently from animal to animal.

My mother had an Arabian horse, Zipper, that hated being kicked as a signal to gallop. One day, her mom and stepdad had a particularly unpleasant visitor; an older gentleman that insisted on riding Zipper, but refused to listen to my mother's warnings never to kick him. "Kicking" constitutes hitting the horse's side(s) with your heels, whether you have spurs on or not. Most horses only need a gentle squeeze to know what you want them to do.

Anyway, Zipper made eye-contact with my mom, asking for permission. He understood what she meant when she nodded at him. He proceeded to give this asshole of a rider road rash on the side of the paddock fence and sent him to the emergency room. He wouldn't have done it if he didn't have the permission from the rider he respected, and was intelligent enough to ask, "mind if I teach this guy a lesson?" with his eyes, and understand, "Go for it, buddy," from my mom in return.

-Riding bareback is possible to do if you hold onto the horse's mane really tight.

Riding a horse bareback (with no saddle, stirrups, or traditional harness around the horse's head) is unbelievably difficult to learn, particularly have testicles and value keeping them. Even professional riders and equestrians find ourselves relying on tack (the stuff you put on a horse to ride it) to stay stable on our horses, even if we've been riding that particular horse for years and have a very positive, trusting relationship.

Horses sweat like people do. The more they run, the more their hair saturates with sweat and makes staying seated on them slippery. Hell, an overworked horse can sweat so heavily that the saddle slips off its back. It's also essential to brush and bathe a horse before it's ridden in order to keep it healthier, so their hair is often quite slick from either being very clean or very damp. In order to ride like that, you have to develop the ability to synchronize your entire body's rhythm's with the rhythm of the horse's body beneath you, and quite literally move as one. Without stirrups, most people can't do it, and some people can never master bareback riding no matter how many years they spend trying to learn.

-You can be distracted and make casual conversation while a horse is standing untethered in the middle of a barn or field.

At every barn I've ever worked at, it's been standard practice with every single horse, regardless of age or temperament, to secure their heads while they're being tacked up or tacked down. The secures for doing this are simple ropes with clips that are designed to attach to the horse's halter (the headwear for a horse that isn't being ridden; they have no bit that goes in the horse's mouth, and no reins for a rider to hold) on metal O rings on either side of the horse's head. This is not distressing to the horse, because we give them plenty of slack to turn their heads and look around comfortably.

The problem with trying to tack up an unrestrained horse while chatting with fellow stable hands or riders is that horses know when you're distracted! And they often try to get away with stuff when they know you're not looking! In a barn, a horse often knows where the food is stored, and will often try to tiptoe off to sneak into the feed room.

Horses that get into the feed room are often at a high risk of dying. While extremely intelligent, they don't have the ability to throw up, and they don't have the ability to tell that their stomach is full and should stop eating. Allowing a horse into a feed/grain room WILL allow it to eat itself to death.

Other common woes stable hands and riders deal with when trying to handle a horse with an unrestrained head is getting bitten! Horses express affection between members of their own herd, and those they consider friends and family, through nibbling and surprisingly rough biting. It's not called "horseplay" for nothing, because during my years working with horses out in the pasture, it wasn't uncommon at all for me to find individuals with bloody bite marks on their withers (that high part on the middle of the back of their shoulders most people instinctively reach for when they try to get up), and on their backsides. I've been love-bitten by horses before, and while flattering, they hurt like hell on fleshy human skin.

So, for the safety of the horse, and everybody else, always make a show of somehow controlling the animal's head when hands-on and on the ground with them.

-Big Horse = War Horse

Startlingly, the opposite is usually the case! Draft and carriage horses, like Percherons and Friesians, were never meant to be used in warfare. Draft horses are usually bred to be extremely even-tempered, hard to spook, and trustworthy around small children and animals. Historically, they're the tractors of the farm if you could afford to upgrade from oxen, and were never built to be fast or agile in a battlefield situation.

More importantly, just because a horse is imposing and huge doesn't make it a good candidate for carrying heavy weights. A real thing that I had to be part of enforcing when I worked at a teaching ranch was a weight limit. Yeah, it felt shitty to tell people they couldn't ride because we didn't have any horses strong enough to carry them due to their weight, but it's a matter of the animal's safety. A big/tall/chonky horse is more likely to be built to pull heavy loads, but not carry them flat on their spines. Horses' muscular power is predominantly in their ability to run and pull things, and too heavy a rider can literally break a horse's spine and force us to euthanize it.

Some of the best war horses out there are from the "hot blood" family. Hot blooded horses are often from dry, hot, arid climates, are very small and slight (such as Arabian horses), and are notoriously fickle and flighty. They're also a lot more likely to paw/bite/kick when spooked, and have even sometimes been historically trained to fight alongside their rider if their rider is dismounted in combat; kicking and rearing to keep other soldiers at a distance.

-Any horse can be ridden if it likes you enough.

Just like it can take a lifetime to learn to ride easily, it can take a lifetime of training for a horse to comfortably take to being ridden or taking part in a job, like pulling a carriage. Much like service animals, horses are typically trained from extremely young ages to be reared into the job that's given to them, and an adult horse with no experience carrying a rider is going to be just as scared as a rider who's never actually ridden a horse.

Just as well, the process of tacking up a horse isn't always the most comfortable experience for the horse. To keep the saddle centered on the horse's back when moving at rough or fast paces, it's essential to tighten the belly strap (cinch) of the saddle as tightly as possible around the horse's belly. For the horse, it's like wearing a tight corset, chafes, and even leaves indents in their skin afterward that they love having rinsed with water and scratched. Some horses will learn to inflate their bellies while you're tightening the cinch so you can't get it as tight as it needs to be, and then exhale when they think you're done tightening it.

When you're working with a horse wearing a bridle, especially one with a bit, it can be a shocking sensory experience to a horse that's never used a bit before. While they lack a set of teeth naturally, so the bit doesn't actually hurt them, imagine having a metal rod shoved in your mouth horizontally! Unless you understand why it's important for the person you care about not dying, you'd be pretty pissed about having to keep it in there!

-Horseback riding isn't exercise.

If you're not using every muscle in your body to ride with, you're not doing it right.

Riding requires every ounce of muscle control you have in your entire body - although this doesn't mean it wasn't realistic for people with fat bodies to stay their weight while also being avid riders; it doesn't mean the muscles aren't there. To stay on the horse, you need to learn how it feels when it moves at different gaits (walk, trot, canter, gallop), how to instruct it to switch leads (dominant legs; essential for precise turning and ease of communication between you and the horse), and not falling off. While good riders look like they're barely moving at all, that's only because they're good riders. They know how to move so seamlessly with the horse, feeling their movements like their own, that they can compensate with their legs and waists to not bounce out of the saddle altogether or slide off to one side. I guarantee if you ride a horse longer than 30 minutes for the first time, your legs alone will barely work and feel like rubber.

-Horses aren't affectionate.

Horses are extraordinarily affectionate toward the right people. As prey animals, they're usually wary of people they don't know, or have only recently met. They also - again, like service animals - have a "work mode" and a "casual mode" depending upon what they're doing at the time. Horses will give kisses like puppies, wiggle their upper lips on your hair/arms to groom you, lean into neck-hugs, and even cuddle in their pasture or stall if it's time to nap and you join them by leaning against their sides. If they see you coming up from afar and are excited to see you, they'll whinny and squeal while galloping to meet you at the gate. They'll deliberately swat you with their tails to tease you, and will often follow you around the pasture if they're allowed to regardless of what you're up to.

-Riding crops are cruel.

Only cruel people use riding crops to hurt their horses. Spurs? I personally object to, because any horse that knows you well doesn't need something sharp jabbing them in the side for emphasis when you're trying to tell them where you want them to go. Crops? Are genuinely harmless tools used for signalling a horse.

I mean, think about it. Why would crops be inherently cruel instruments if you need to trust a horse not to be afraid of you and throw you off when you're riding it?

Crops are best used just to lightly tap on the left or right flank of the horse, and aren't universally used with all forms of riding. You'll mainly see crops used with English riding, and they're just tools for communicating with the horse without needing to speak.

-There's only one way to ride a horse.

Not. At. All. At most teaching ranches, you'll get two options: Western, or English, because they tend to be the most popular for shows and also the most common to find equipment for. English riding uses a thinner, smaller saddle, narrower stirrups, and much thinner bridles. I, personally, didn't like English style riding because I never felt very stable in such a thin saddle with such small stirrups, and didn't start learning until my mid teens. English style riding tends to focus more on your posture and deportment in the saddle, and your ability to show off your stability and apparent immovability on the horse. It was generally just a bit too stiff and formal for me.

Western style riding utilizes heavier bridles, bigger saddles (with the iconic horn on the front), and broader stirrups. Like its name may suggest, Western riding is more about figuring out how to be steady in the saddle while going fast and being mobile with your upper body. Western style riding is generally the style preferred for working-type shows, such as horseback archery, gunning, barrel racing, and even rodeo riding.

-Wealthy horse owners have no relationship with their horses.

This is loosely untrue, but I've seen cases where it is. Basically, horses need to feel like they're working for someone that matters to them in order to behave well with a rider and not get impatient or bored. While it's common for people to board horses at off-property ranches (boarding ranches) for cost and space purposes, it's been historically the truth that having help is usually necessary with horses at some point. What matters is who spends the most time with the animal treating it like a living being, rather than a mode of transport or a tool. There's no harm in stable hands handling the daily upkeep; hay bales and water buckets are heavy, and we're there to profit off the labor you don't want or have the time to do. You get up early to go to work; we get up early to look after your horses. Good owners/boarders visit often and spend as much of their spare time as they can with spending quality work and playtime with their horses. Otherwise, the horses look to the stable hands for emotional support and care.

So, maybe you're writing a knight that doesn't really care much for looking after his horse, but his squire is really dedicated to keeping up with it? There's a better chance of the horse having a more affectionate relationship with the squire thanks to the time the squire spends on looking after it, while the horse is more likely to tolerate the knight that owns it as being a source of discipline if it misbehaves. That doesn't mean the knight is its favorite person. When it comes to horses, their love must be earned, and you can only earn it by spending time with them hands-on.

-Horses can graze anywhere without concern.

This is a mistake that results in a lot of premature deaths! A big part of the cost of owning a horse - even before you buy one - is having the property that will be its pasture assessed for poisonous plants, and having those plants removed from being within the animal's reach. This is an essential part of farm upkeep every year, because horses really can't tell what's toxic and what isn't. One of the reasons it's essential to secure a horse when you aren't riding it is to ensure it only has a very limited range to graze on, and it's your responsibility as the owner/rider to know how to identify dangerous plants and keep your horses away from them.

There's probably more. AMA in my askbox if you have any questions, but that's all for now. Happy writing.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Satin Pillows To Cry On

CW: coercion with money, age gap(7 yrs), transactional marriage, obsessive/yandere behavior

gn! reader

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

You’ve got nothing else, no one else to rely on. 

‘You’re something he bought to keep from growing old.” 

Your clothes are worth small countries. Your cars stacked in 3-level garages. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls hanging from your wrists and ears, satchels made of endangered animal skins, different shoes for each day of the year. 

Your boyfriend of three years spat at your feet when you told him what you were doing. 

“His money can’t love you, not like I can.”

The wedding was only two months away when you broke up with him, told him you couldn’t live in his broke-down apartment anymore, that you couldn’t live with debt trailing wherever you went. You went so far as to make him hate you, to tell him that you never wanted to see him again, that you never loved him, that he better not bother showing up to the wedding. You didn’t want him there, you never wanted to see him again. 

“You’re lying to me; he’s making you say these things, he’s using you against me! You’ve known him what-- two seconds, and you’re going to marry this man?! He’s nearly a decade older than you!” 

Seven years of an age gap or not, he was still a thousand times more independent, wealthy, and a safer choice than your boyfriend. You weren’t some fresh college student new to the world, you had graduated over two years ago, still finding no luck in getting a stable income-- forget about whether or not it was in the field of your degree. 

You left in a single day, fitting all of your scavanged belongings into one of your fiance’s awaiting cars. You left anything worth of value with your ex-boyfriend, knowing he’d find more use out of it than you would. You would even leave the rest of your things there if he could find use for them, but you knew they’d just be one more painful reminder of your betrayal. 

He did as you said, not showing up to your wedding, staying clear, never appearing in your line of sight since the day you left. It made it easier…. For both of you that way. 

And now you were happy-- well, maybe not happy, maybe not even content, but you were… safe. You had everything you needed: a working car, a stable job that you felt productive in, a clean and comforting house to come home to, a spouse. Sure, maybe you didn’t get your new job yourself, or your house or your car-- but did that really matter, in this economy? Who wouldn’t trade their life and their independence for this kind of wealth?

And your husband… he wasn’t all bad. He might have only wanted you for the sake of having you at first, like a new jewel or the latest technological invention. But he was doting and caring in his own way. Maybe just a tiny bit too invested in you, in your schedule and who you talked to. A little too hateful towards your ex-boyfriend, the one who had you before he could. But everyone had character flaws, and on good days you could distract him from his grumpy mood and stress and obsessive behaviors by being the loving and oh so perfect spouse you had trained yourself to be ever since he asked to marry you. 

“Colder than all that gold…” You repeated in your mind, the words your family whispered to each other at your wedding reception only a few feet away from you. 

That was over six months now, though… the honeymoon phase never existed, you rarely saw your husband except for his midnight appearances back from the office, and whenever he would whisk you away for a weekend vacation to savor the time he had with you. For someone more sophisticated, much wealthier, and dare you say handsomer than the average man-- you were surprised to find he didn’t have a line of divorces behind him. 

No; he said, he had been “waiting for you.” whether  you or he knew it, he understood right from the moment of meeting you that you were the one he’d have for the rest of his life, even if it killed him. That severity… scared you. But in a sick sense, it made you feel relieved. Forever? This could be yours, forever? Your family would never have to struggle again, you would never have to worry where your next meal came from?

“I cleared your schedule until tuesday; we’re going to the isles. A mini vacation, you might call it. Get your things.”

He was cold, that was for sure. But, was he any worse than your ex-boyfriend, especially when he was offering you an expensive experience on top of that?

“All right..” You acquiesced. 

And now, you lied sunken into the bed feeling his loving, hot breath on your navel. Going so sweetly slow, so oddly and uncharacteristingly lingering with his touches as he gazes into your eyes. You didn’t like this; didn’t like that when he was cherishing you, making love to you, holding you so intimately, he was appearing… like a husband should. Where did he get the nerve to ignore you everyday, to have hardly any time for you, only to come back and beg for your love when it was convenient for him? 

But you keep your mouth shut, like you should, if you want to keep eating breakfast in bed, keep wearing silk robes while watching the view of the ocean outside your window.

“So beautiful…you’re like a work of art, the kind no amount of money can buy.” 

That was funny, hilarious even. Enough so to make you cry. 

A familiar face passes by the slightly ajar door to distract you, likely one of the housekeepers leaving for the night. But you swear the man’s figure reminds you of someone from your past, someone you loved and left for good. 

Your husband brings back your attention by placing a gentle kiss to your temple, blindly undoing the clasp of the necklace he bought you.

“I’m so lucky… so lucky to have been the one to catch you, forever. No one could’ve done it, not without what I have.”

He wanted you to kiss and caress back, but sometimes lying still was just enough. It was enough for him to witness you, basking in the glow of everything you wore from him, lying in the Egyptian cotton sheets he paid extra for, your body molded to the diet his personal chefs cooked. 

Even as he pushed a knee between your legs, traveling from your navel to your stomach with open-mouthed sucks and kisses in the rawest form of affection, you couldn’t help but turn your face deep into the pillow. So soft, the soft purple shielding your eyes from his tender gaze.

You might’ve given up love, given up everything familiar and those who you’ve cared for-- but at least you had satin pillows to cry on, and the finest jewelry to wipe your tears with. 

[illubean]

Could I get headcanons for Feitan, Illumi, Leorio, and Chrollo falling for gn!reader who by all means seems like a strong, nuturing, emotionally stable individual but every once in awhile casually says or does smthin that makes people go "Oh you're a little fuckin nuts, actually"

(e.x.: Most of their D.I.Y. furniture is made of different kinds of bone, morbidly interested in the more gorey parts of their jobs, probably works in a field that allows them to be around the dead often like a taxidermist or a mortitian, highkey just unabashashedly a morbid little freak™️ whenever it comes up naturally in conversation but otherwise comes across as just an attentive lil guy you could bring home the average parents would love.)

HXH Men with a Morbid!S/o

Characters: Leorio Paladaknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

this is so me

Warnings: dead things and body parts and stuff

Leorio Paladaknight

being an aspiring doctor, Leorio thought that your knowledge on both human and animal anatomy was pretty useful

at first he didn't think much about your job and just assumed you were some type of doctor or biologist or something

he often asks you questions as he studies and you're a pretty good tutor

the first time Leorio realized you were kinda weird is when one day you were walking down the street and saw some roadkill

and you were like "aww too bad, the skin and bones are too damaged to harvest"

and you kept walking like it was normal while he was like ?!!??!?

or you guys were having a normal conversation and you say something like

"if you died i'd taxidermy you and re-articulate your skeleton so you'd be with me forever <3"

1 taxidermizing humans is illegal and 2 WHAT

he is cold sweating wtf did he get himself into

when he comes to your house for the first time and sees a bunch of bones, animal skins and wet specimens he damn near passes the fuck out

how do you just casually have dead things and remains around your house!?

AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MADE YOUR COFFEE TABLE OUT OF CAMEL BONES?

he is freaking the fuck out and you're just like "dw everything is ethically sourced :D"

yeah he thinks you're a freak and he is too fearful to break up with you ever (not like he was planning to anyways)

Illumi Zoldyck

whatever drew Illumi to you had to have been some type of power

aside from that power, to Illumi you were relatively normal and had a good grip on your emotions which made you a perfect candidate

that being said he could care less what your job was, you'd just end up working for or with him eventually

when he started bringing you around the estate, you often sought out their guard dog Mike and Illumi couldn't think of why

that is until you came back one day with a human femur and bright smile on your face

"... where did you even get that?" "From one of Mike's victims. If I collect enough I could make a whole set of bar stools!"

he blinked at you and chose to ignore your statement

i mean, to each their own am i right?

so you have ah hobby, big deal

Illumi just thinks you're pretty normal personality wise until you randomly but casually drop information about what you do in your free time or have in your home

so now whenever he has a job Illumi calls you in for cleanup

you get to do.... whatever it is you do and there's no evidence of a dead body left behind, it's a win win

Chrollo Lucilfer

he couldn't care less what your job is because it's probably not worse than his 😭

he didn't really notice anything "morbid" about you until he asked about your jewlery

you wore things like resin caster bug pendants or bird skull earrings and stuff

he just assumed they were fake and you bought them because they looked badass

but then you told him you make it all YOURSELF

he is intrigued

he doesn't really question you past that because you were probably buying the bones and stuff somewhere (spoiler alert you're not)

what really caused him to think was when you casually just picked up a dead rat off the floor in some abandoned building you were exploring and suck it in your pocket

bro was so confused

"What do you need that for?" "To make a new necklace :3"

yeah now he knows that your odd taste in jewelry goes deeper than just that

he won't judge you though, if anything you're a better person than he is considering you don't kill things yourself

he is literally a murderer and a thief and has committed like 3467633788 crimes so he couldn't judge even if he wanted to

so now when he sees dead animals and what not he bags them up and brings them to you

he likes to sit in on your cleaning and making process

you seem like a perfectly normal and sweet person to everyone else but Chrollo knows about your freaky little hobby and it just makes him like you even more

Feitan Portor

I feel like for you and Feitan to even be acquainted you have to be part of the troupe

whatever you do outside of it is your business

buttttttt since you are his s/o and Feitan is probably homeless he crashes wherever you are

thus him finding out about your hobby and other job

out of everyone on this list he is the most interested

he too is a morbid little freak

he goes with you to find things and will help you with the cleaning/taxidermy or whatever process if you let him

what he doesn't understand though is why you don't just kill the things you want instead of hunting for already dead things

sometimes he will go catch like a squirrel or something and bring it back to you like a cat and tell you he found it like that

Fei baby. No the fuck you didn't

after doing what you're doing for so long you can tell what caused an animal to die but you wouldn't tell him that

he's just so cute and wants to be supportive of your hobby <3

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 9)

first chapter >> last chapter

-

If you’d lived any closer to other people, you’d be ashamed of the state that you arrive home in. Both you and John had stumbled out of the river and put on your clothes hastily, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your wet skin, difficult to put back on without drying off. He hadn’t brought a flannel or towel to dry yourself with after your swim—perhaps thought you’d dry in the sun. Even if there had been one, you can’t imagine you’d have the patience.

You move in quick bursts, pants pulled up your legs, blouse buttoned with trembling fingers, feet straight into your bottoms, your socks stuffed in your pockets. John moves with similar purpose, quick to dress and usher you over to Buttercup with a hand flat on your back, pushing you with the force you remember him using all those weeks ago on your way to the courthouse. 

Neither one of you says a word. Words feel far away and clunky. Rough in a way they’ve never felt. Improper too, to turn to your husband under the light of a clear day and whisper, I want you to make love to me. Say to him, I need to be as close to you as physically possible, I need you to soothe this ache in me, in front of God and all of His creatures wandering through the woods. 

You wonder if you look as disheveled as you feel. 

The ride home passes by in a blur. Perhaps the sunlight catches your eye through the treetops and pries the memory from your head, the passive observer in you usurped by the soft animal of your flesh. It feels John’s strong hand on your hip and purrs. It coaxes you to rub your backside up against him, startled when his fingers tighten around your hip and he holds you there against his erection, groaning softly. 

“Keep that up ‘n we won’t make it home, darlin’,” John warns, voice growling in your ear. Your blood sizzles, vision going white. 

You feel coltish when he helps you dismount, legs shaking beneath you as you watch him take Buttercup back to the stables. He makes quick work about it, long legs carrying him swiftly from the house to the stables. It’s different observing him now because the thought that rises to the top of your mind now, like the fat on the cream, sweet and plump, is, that’s my husband. My husband is going to deflower me. My husband is going to take me to bed and strip me down to nothing and spread my legs—

The thought evaporates when you notice him shut the stable doors and head back towards you. Again, he walks with such purpose that you can only stare at the movement of his hips. 

Time stops when he puts a hand to your cheek and bends low, drawing you into another kiss as deep and languid as the one back in the river. His tongue curls around yours, plying you open until you have no choice but to relinquish everything to him. Your tongue, your docility, your mind. Everything parts to let him inside.

“Look at you,” John murmurs against your lips. “Sweet little thing. Can barely keep yourself upright. Let’s get you to bed.”

He ushers you up the stairs with haste. The staircase feels longer than usual, more of an effort to get up each step. In the bedroom, he locks the door like he did that first night, but this time your heart flutters instead of trembling.  

It’s hardly been any time at all since you saw him naked in the river, but the sight of his bronzed flesh and hirsute chest when he strips his shirt off leaves you breathless. He’s the kind of man that you would studiously avoid looking at if you were to pass him on the street. Too strapping of a man to waste your yearning heart on. Too much of a blow if he were to pass his eyes over you and find you wanting. 

But to know that he wants you as bad as he does is almost too much as well. 

John leans back against the pillows with you cradled in his arms, your pants long since stripped from your legs. Your blouse is still on, but barely, rucked up over the soft swell of your belly. Only a single button holding it in place, even the thread on that button loose and fraying. A hand cups your breast, the other folded over your hand resting on your belly, your fingers threaded together.

“God, you’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he sighs. Your core tightens at that and he breathes a laugh when he feels the muscle of your stomach flex under his hand. “Could hardly believe it the first time I laid my eyes on you. I was spittin’ mad, left waitin’ and wantin’ all those weeks, but then you walked in and…Christ, I just knew.”

“Knew what?” you ask, ignoring the ache in your chest at the mention of the girl he’d been waiting for. 

“Knew I would’ve waited my whole life if it meant I’d get you.”

What does it mean that everything in you quivers at that? On the threshold of breaking. Your husband’s fingers plucking your nipple and then soothing the hurt by swirling his thumb around your areola. He’s worn your resistance down to the quick. You curl the hand on your belly into a fist and his fingers curl with yours.

“Been such a sweet thing for me too,” John says into your ear, dragging his hand from your breast down your stomach and over your hip, curling around the inside of your thigh and pulling it open. He can see everything now, the dewy petals of your sex spreading wide for his perusal, no longer hidden beneath a shift or dress. “Fuck, darlin’…look at that gorgeous little slice of heaven.”

“Oh Lord—” you say, heat crawling up your neck.

John huffs, rubbing his palm up and down your thigh, closer and closer with every stroke. Your sex pulses with each glancing stroke, your breath coming out in ragged pants. “Made me work for it, didn’t ya?”

“I did no—I barely did a thing.”

“Yeah, you did, pretty girl,” he says, dismissing your words, and then his fingers are there, splitting your lips wide, middle finger dragging down the seam like he did on the porch swing all those nights ago. Any rebuttal you might’ve had vanishes in a blink, heart beating staccato. “Could’ve taken it that first night. I wanted to—almost did. But I wanted you sweet and simpering.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, beard burning the skin there. “And what are you now, darlin’?”

“S-sweet and simp-simpering,” you whisper, stuttering when his finger glides over your opening and finds you soaked. So slick that his finger sinks right in up to the second knuckle.

Your knee falls open even more. 

He smiles against your neck before kissing up to your temple. “That’s right, honey. Knew you had it in you.”

“Oh—it’s…it’s…” you gasp when he gives you another, two fingers plunging into you, shallow pumps that hardly get you where you need to go.

“There we go, darlin’. Ain’t that nice? Need ya to be nice ‘n soft for me—don’t wanna hurt ya.”

He’s far from hurting you, but still your stomach twists up. 

“I need—I need—p-please, John, give it to me.”

“And wha’s that?” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Give you what, honey?”

You’re tempted to grab his hand and bring his fingers up to your clit, but you can’t quite muster up the nerve. Instead you huff, brows puckering in frustration. You try to draw your knees up to your chest and gasp when he pulls his fingers out of you and wrenches your knee back down to the mattress, pinning it there. 

“None of that,” John scolds, his wet fingers curling around the inside of your knee. “You have to ask for things, darlin’. Use your words.”

Your core clenches at his words. The little bit of stretching that he did leaves you feeling empty without his fingers, slickness dripping down the inside of your thighs. 

“I need to…” you say, thoughts slipping from you. All you want is for John to plunge his fingers back into your sex and take you to your peak, but the words get lost as they travel down your tongue. “It’s not enough.”

“Just my fingers, you mean?” The same ones he digs into your leg until the flesh bulges around his fingers. 

“No,” you whine. You try to drag the hand intertwined with his on your belly down to your sex, but he resists, keeping your hand pinned in place. He holds firm when you struggle, chuckling at the whine that slips past your lips. 

“Poor girl. Needy little thing, aren’t ya? Not stretched enough yet though, darlin’—I’m a lot bigger than a couple fingers.” You choke at that, scandalized. “I’ll give your clit a little lovin’ though.”

He takes his hand off your knee and brings it up so he can spit in his hand. You flinch when you hear the glob of spit hit his palm, and then his hand is back between your legs, wet palm grinding into your sensitive button when his fingers push back into your hole. Single-minded now, trying to coax your orgasm out of you. Forcing a third finger into your hole and shushing you dismissively when you howl and try to squirm away.

The voice in your head demeaning you for acting so lewd is drowned out by your own cries when you come on John’s fingers. It disappears entirely when John kisses your temple and thanks you for giving him your release. Like it’s a gift you’ve given him.  

Your hands flutter over his shoulders when he gets you on your back and fits his hands into the creases of your knees to guide your thighs open. He must like what he sees because his eyelids droop when he stares down at the slick folds between your legs, heavy with lust. 

“Lord, that’s pretty,” John says, petting your clit with his thumb and smiling when you squirm. 

You breathe in quick, shallow breaths, hopelessly beyond composing yourself. Perhaps once or twice you might have allowed yourself to imagine what it might be like to lie with a man. You’ve heard other women giggle amongst themselves about it, about men going cross-eyed, rubicund cheeked, heaving bellies and thighs slapping against the girl’s rear—a handful of thrusts and then finally some peace and quiet when he passed out on the other side of the bed. 

You’re familiar with the mechanics, if only in theory. The expectation of disappointment; that you’d only have to grin and bear it. Think of England. 

John, of course, does not conform to those expectations.

“You take my hand, darlin’,” he murmurs, taking your hand in his and pressing it down to the bed. “Give me a squeeze if it’s too much.”

Your mouth is too dry, mind too scattered to form a response. All you can do is stare up at him.

“Hey.” With his other hand, he gives you a light tap on the cheek. It doesn’t even sting, but it makes you blink. “You still with me?”

“Yes,” you answer, nodding. Your heart jumps when he reaches down to take his shaft in hand and notch the head against your sopping entrance.

Everything collapses down to the feeling of him pressing forward, an insistent siege that doesn’t let up because when you squeeze his hand reflexively, it comes with a, yes, yes, please, falling unbidden from your lips. It feels foreign at first, bigger than the fingers he pressed into you before. Claustrophobic, suffocating. With his arms braced on either side of your head, John eclipses everything else from view.

When it gets too much, you squeeze his hand and dig your nails in, hissing at the stretch. It hurts, and the more you tense, the tighter you get. John winces when you clench around him.

“Easy does it,” he says, squeezing your hand back. He dips his head to drop a soft kiss on your lips, coaxing them open. When you think of the men that languish in opium dens, you imagine that it must feel something like John Price’s tongue licking into your mouth. 

“It hurts,” you mumble when he pulls away.

“I know, honey. Being so brave for me though.” You whine when he sinks in another inch, flexing your toes up in the air. “My brave girl—that’s it…just a lil more, darlin’.”

“There’s more?” you blurt out, and he laughs, the sound coursing through you, shaking you with him. 

Effervescent bubbling joy swells in your chest, so crystal clear for a moment. The man above you almost glows, so radiant that you reach a hand up to cup his face, entranced. 

There’s nothing like him in the world. No one else like him. Steel underneath silk, the very roughness and essence of man that you’ve always known tempered by a softness that makes you physically ache. And in spite of self-doubt and common sense, he looks down at you with the same reverence. Knowing nothing about you. Knowing only something essential about you, the part divested of history, past or future. Whoever you are at your core, he wants it. He’s taken it as his own. 

Then he pushes that last inch into your cunt and you go breathless. 

“There we go, darlin’,” John grits out, and you can see the sweat beading on his temples now. “Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all of that.”

Your hand feels clammy in his, a thin layer of sweat building on the nape of your neck and along your back as well. He helps you cinch your legs around his waist more comfortably, and you lock your ankles at the small of his back, but still it feels too much. Stretched to your limits. You can hardly swallow, never mind open your mouth to speak. 

John praises you the whole time in hushed whispers, squeezing your hand in his and petting your face with the other. Fingers slide past your cheek and tangle in your hair, a thumb tracing the shell of your ear. He drops wet, sucking kisses down your neck and over your clavicle, licking up the hollow of your throat. Your skin must taste salty with sweat, but still he lavishes you with kisses. 

“Can you take a bit more, darlin’?” he asks. “Still hurt?”

“It—it’s tight,” you rasp, wiggling your hips. You’re hardly able to move though, pinned in place by his bulk. 

“C’mon, arms around me,” he tells you, waiting until your hands are tangled together behind his neck. “We’ll take it real slow, okay?”

You squeak with the first thrust, not expecting the feeling of his cock pulling out of you before pushing back in. He rocks into you slowly though, letting you grow used to the feeling of him inside you. His eyes don’t leave yours the whole time. Dark blue warmed by the sunlight.

My husband’s inside me, you think, a bit hysterically. The same man that you thought might lock you up and throw away the keys now has you on your back in his bed—your bed—making a space for himself in your body. 

The discomfort takes most of the pleasure away at first. All you can focus on is the way your flesh has to stretch to accommodate him with every thrust, the breath forced out of you. Lips screwed up, teeth digging into your bottom lip painfully to hold back the soft grunts building up in your chest. 

“You alright?” John asks in a pulverized voice. You’ve never heard him quite like that.

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m f-fine.”

You don’t sound fine. The sound he lets out lets you know what he thinks of your response. He takes greater care for a time after that, each stroke deliberate, a slow, smooth glide. You feel ragdoll-like in his arms, like a poppet for him to play with; a well-cared for thing. A treasured thing that he rocks into and peppers with kisses, across your eyelids and forehead. 

The bedroom echoes with the sound of your panting breaths and John’s deep, guttural groans every time he sinks into your sex, the lewd, wet squelch of your cunt growing louder as his hips pick up speed. You can see the second you lose him when his eyes go flinty, staring past you. His hands fist into the bedsheets, knuckles going white. 

“Jesus—” he grunts, driving into you hard enough to send you shuttling up the bed. You squeal at that, digging your nails into his back. “Yeah, hold me like that, honey.”

Your breasts bounce with every thrust. John’s eyes flit between them and your eyes before snapping back up to meet your gaze, barely tearing his eyes away long enough to blink. 

Your skin feels hot, tight. Worse when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth like back in the river and suckles. Crude, wet sounds fill the air; sucks that turn sloppy. He kisses between your breasts before latching on to your other nipple. 

He murmurs praises into your skin, breath going choppy. Little susurrations. My wife. Brave, pretty girl. Taking it so well. Tiny little thing.  

When a couple tears leak down your cheek and it starts to build beneath your skin, hot tongues of fire licking up in you, John’s lips pull into a flat line. He can smell it on you. See it in the way your eyes lose focus, glossy and wet. He grabs your face with one hand, pinching until your lips purse. 

“Look at me when you come,” John growls, fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to meet his gaze. “You look at your husband when he makes you come.”

You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. His fingers pinch where they hold your cheeks. This close to his end, his strength gets away from him; you can feel the attempt to be gentle, but it gets lost in his frenzied need to pump his spend into your belly. His biceps bulge beside your head, a vein near his temple throbbing. 

“You w-won’t let me go? You won’t leave me?” you ask desperately. You don't know why you need to hear him say it, but you’re afraid you’ll die without it. 

“Mine until the end of fuckin’ time, you hear me?” He pinches your cheeks until your mouth falls open, then leans down to lick into your mouth. “You’re gonna let me put a baby in you, wife, and you’re never gonna fuckin’ leave me.”

You come when his mouth brushes over yours, the intimacy overwhelming. Your thighs tighten around his waist, trying to get as close to him as possible, nails raking down his back. If you could climb into his skin, you would. 

John reaches his peak noisily, his thick spend filling your cunt and his tongue filling your mouth. You can feel it inside of you, spurting against your womb, and even the thought of that makes you shiver. He made a house for a wife and children, and he has the former now. Only the latter is missing. 

His hands and mouth are everywhere on you. Petting along your flank, stroking down your side. Sucking softly at your lower lip while he pumps the last of his essence into you. You feel wrung dry, every limb aching and sore. It’ll be worse come morning. For now, exhaustion settles over you like a blanket.

When he pulls out, you can’t help the sound that comes out of you, like a sob trapped in your chest. 

“Oh Lord, I’m a mess,” you whisper, leaning up on your elbows and glancing down between your legs with morbid curiosity. 

Embarrassment at the sight of John’s come leaking onto the bed sheets nearly makes you curl up into a ball. It’s filmy and sticky when you try to gather it up with your fingers. You wipe it on the bed sheets when you realize that now you just have a mess on your hands. 

The mattress squeaks under his weight when he gets off, wet, flaccid cock swinging between his legs. Again, you can’t help but stare despite the way your stomach twists. 

“Sit up,” he orders, and you do without thinking. “Can’t go to bed like this.”

John washes you with a warm cloth, dunking it in the porcelain basin on the bedside table whenever it gets too cold. You’d protest the gentle treatment, but it’s nice to be waited on for a change. You can see why some would grow used to it. The only time you lose your cool is when he drags the washcloth gently between your legs. 

“You could just give me the cloth,” you snip, horribly embarrassed. “I’ve washed myself once or twice, you know.”

For all your spitting and hissing, he only laughs. 

He takes care of the wet spot beneath you as well, lifting you up and sitting you down on the wooden chair before changing the sheets. 

“I can—I can wash those in the morning,” you chime from the chair in the corner of the room, ankles crossing and uncrossing nervously. You wince when you feel a glob of his spend drip out of you. 

John’s mustache twitches with a barely contained smile. “We’ll worry about that in the morning, bug.” 

It’s hard to just let things go. Two weeks in his care can barely begin to equate to the decade plus you spent fending for yourself. There are still days you spend looking over your shoulder, waiting for your past to catch up with you. Waiting for this life to evaporate like smoke. You can’t relinquish all of your control just yet, not when that possibility still looms on the horizon. No matter how much you want. 

You don’t think he knows what’s doing. Not truly. 

John can’t know what he’s become to you. That he is fixed, that he is binding you to a present that you never saw as sure. It wavers in front of you like the fickle light of a candle, and suspended above it, you stare at the douter, waiting for it to come down and snuff the flame out.

[zzencat]

Your Best Qualities - Current ⏳

From left to right. Breathe and choose.

Some of your best qualities in 5 bullet points! Decided we’d get a post to remind you of your best qualities, in case any of you guys are feelin’ down or going thru some tough weather. Let’s bring it back and focus on the good :)

To enhance accuracy before choosing: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

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Pile 1. Feels like family…

• you’re definitely capable of bringing peace to others or keeping harmony within your own relationships, whether they be platonic or romantic — mediator skills or a person with good judgment

• you think twice before making moves or saying things — able to find balance between being the listener and being the speaker

• your resilience is unmatched!!!! — emotionally stable and can manage finances well

• loyal and uncaring of what others think — you stick to your crew and keep good people around you

• you’re super creative and your sense of timing is impeccable — you grab opportunities like it’s nothing. it’s like you always know what to say to make others feel good, reassured, comforted, confident

Points of Interest: good natured person or has good intentions in general; balanced af; leadership skills; a good head on your shoulders; extrovert-ambivert/very healthy introvert; entrepreneurial skills; ceo/vice president/secretary vibes; the type that listens to both sides of the story before acting; calm and peaceful; bounces back easily; thoughtful; considerate; family oriented; cares for others as well as oneself; clear minded; good work-life balance; open-minded; cautious in decision making; “confident” - justin bieber; good self esteem; good attitude; faith in your abilities; optimistic; creative; cares a lot for animals; people like being around you; possible mbti: healthy exxj, enxp, ixxj

—————————————

Pile 2. I got your back.

• intimidating and classified as a loner, but in the best way possible — you either have an expanse of knowledge OR do a great deal of self-reflection — very intuitive person (EXTREMELY)

• BIG, BIIIIIIG defender energy. when it comes to defending yourself or those you love, no one can do it better than you (have you ever considered being a lawyer btw?) — potential to be materially abundant and wealthy

• you empathize and feel for others easily, even when nobody else sees it or thinks that you do (but I’ll tell ya rn, most of the time you’re the most empathetic person in the room) — in a world full of evil, you’d make villains cry and can actually help them turn a new leaf — your level of empathy and understanding is on a totally different level

• independent and mature — if people come to anyone for advice or counseling, or just a good ear, it’s you

• you are very deep and insanely caring under the surface — you might approach things logically first and try to see things from all points of view before making a decision or advising other people — you really do have the biggest heart and only those who are close can see it

Points of Interest: introvert; very smart; spends a lot of time alone; VERY LOYAL !!!!!! (almost to the point of possessiveness); may need to work on control issues and rebalancing social life; communicates differently from others; sees things from a different perspective; offers good advice; good listeners; prone to pushing people away bc you start caring too much; knows who to trust and who not to; selective; secretly creative; very nurturing but kinda doesn’t want to show it; humble/modest/doesn’t want to be seen; wants to help people but doesn’t want to be put in the spotlight for it; you’ve felt more hurt/seen more trauma than those around you; defending like their lives depend on it; perfectionists; behind the scenes, extremely intuitive; possible mbti: inxj, healthy exxj

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Pile 3. Life of The Party

• confident, outgoing, charismatic, funny as hell — there’s a lot of charm to you — you carry the energy fam, no you ARE the energy — you laugh/smile easily or cause others to

• highly ambitious and have the will to fight for what you want — you’d prob be the last one standing in a mr. beast challenge

• you light up the room !! (i keep hearing “baby, you light up my world like nobody else by 1D 😂😂😂) — potential for fame/someone in the public eye/someone in a position of power

• mischievous and fun to be around/has the most jokes — always up for a challenge or touching grass activities lmfaooo you’re always down to hang out — you don’t care if you look like an idiot as long as you’re having fun or are out with friends/family

• you don’t give up easily and take opportunities as they come — persistent, stubborn and strong-willed — you’ve achieved many things or definitely will in no time

Points of Interest: A-Class comedian; daredevil; extroverted or highly energetic; prominent fire energy, possible zodiac signs that are prominent in your natal chart (sun, moon, or rising): aries, leo, sagittarius; mistakenly seen as the leader of a group; impulsive; instigator; jumps on opportunities immediately; wearing what you want; impatient/bored easily; fast-paced; has the most friends/wants to have the most friends; easily sociable; questionable decision making, but has the most experience; likes to experiment; has seen a lot in life/plans to see a lot in life; probably a fan of fast and scary rollercoasters; among leaders, you’re the “fun” leader; confident with self-image

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Teddy note: what is guuuuuuud guys!!?!?! I’m feelin pretty nice today so I thought I’d put this out for you all as a reminder of your good qualities 😊👍 we’ve all been working pretty hard lately!! Whether that’s on your physical, mental, emotional health—it’s all very draining to do SO I hope this reminds you of things you should remember to be proud of!! It’s a checkpoint! I hope it resonates with you and if not, leave it. Thank you v much guys 😎😎

Feedback through likes, comments, and feedback and very much supported!!

[allgirlsareprincesses]

Choosing the Beast: Modern Folklore Heroines Embrace the Animal Husband

“I choose the bear.” The refrain rang out across the web, with many a woman nodding in agreement or at least understanding, and certain men huffing with indignant outrage. Just a meme, really, but did it speak to a deeper truth? Is it merely age-old mistrust of patriarchy talking, or a true desire for the beastly, the wild, the untame?

I’m no sociologist, of course, but I have noticed an emerging trend in fem-gaze media that seems to reflect this view. In movies like I Am Dragon (2015) and recent shows like My Lady Jane and The Acolyte, the heroine chooses the beast, loving her animal husband in his wild form rather than requiring him to transform back into a mundane man to earn her affection. This is such a departure from the typical folktale pattern that it’s difficult to even find an historic example where this occurs.

Commonly thought to reveal the desire to tame a dangerous mate in a patriarchal society, most animal husband tales (ATU 425a) feature a hero who ultimately transforms permanently into a human. This is viewed not only as freeing him from the maddening effect of his wild form, but also saving his bride from committing the sin of bestiality. In these tales, the animal mate’s transformation is necessary for the salvation of both.

Is the modern heroine then damned by choosing her husband’s beastly form? Or does she actually free them both from the yoke of patriarchal expectations?

Bathing: Discovering the Wild Masculine

The first motif that stands out in these modern screen examples is bathing. In animal spouse tales, there is often a dynamic of the hunter and the hunted, and thus a moment when the hunter comes upon their would-be lover unawares. Perhaps they find the animal spouse sleeping, or they cast a light on them unexpectedly, see them without their animal skin or disguise, and so on. And of course, they often come upon the lover at their bath.

There is an implied eroticism in this discovery, finding one’s quarry not only undressed, but also in the most private of activities. Water of course symbolizes fertility, but bathing is also purifying, symbolically washing away all that might make a mate undesirable. And this, perhaps, is the reason that historically this motif is used almost exclusively for animal brides, not animal husbands.

For the animal husband, he either actively chooses to reveal himself to the bride (perhaps on their wedding night), or she violently strips away his disguise, often armed with “flame and steel” like Psyche and her many avatars. Animal brides on the other hand are nearly always discovered at a body of water, bathing. The hunter will then capture her either by stealing her animal skin or cloak, or by placing his own clothing on her. What does it mean, then, when it is the husband who is discovered bathing in a body of water, held as an erotic object in the feminine gaze?

In The Acolyte, Osha follows Qimir to a pool where he slowly undresses, in full knowledge that she is watching. On the shore, she steals his lightsaber, just like the hunter who steals the animal skin, symbolically claiming him. When he emerges, Qimir dons new clothes, as if acknowledging that he is a different person than before he entered the water, almost purified in a way. Osha is forced to confront that there is more to the murderer in the mask than she realized.

Similarly, in My Lady Jane, our heroine goes looking for Guildford just before sunrise on their ill-fated wedding night, only to discover him bathing in the stables. The scene is gratuitously filmed from Jane’s (very horny) perspective, flipping the script on the countless scenes in screen history shot with the masculine gaze. Immediately after she discovers and confronts him, Guildford transforms against his will into a horse, and Jane realizes that he is an Ethian, a creature she has been taught is demonic and unnatural.

And in I Am Dragon, Mira makes several discoveries in quick succession: first, she deduces that Arman is actually the dragon. In the next moment, she slips from the island’s peak and falls, saved only when Arman transforms at the last moment and breaks her fall with his dragon form. The water begins to wash over his unconscious body, and at first Mira thinks that she will allow him to drown. But the sight of Arman in his human form after he rescued her, worried over by his animal familiar, stirs her to pity and she wraps him in a sail and drags him to safety. In this way, she clothes him, claiming him as her own.

Each of these heroines discovered a new aspect of her husband at the bath, finding him unexpectedly alluring, and ultimately choosing to begrudgingly claim him. Each animal husband tried to wash away his beastly form, to separate himself from the wild masculine. These men feel a sense of disassociation from a part of themselves, but now that their brides have discovered it, there will be no more hiding. Further, the bride now holds the power in the relationship, evidenced by how her husband needs her: Qimir needs Osha to be his apprentice, Guildford needs Jane to help him “break the curse,” and Arman needs Mira to heal him from his wounds.

Playing House: The Half-Husband

The second feature of these stories is a period of domesticity for the couple. For a brief time after the husband’s beastly nature is revealed, the lovers “play house” like children. While sexual tension is present, they typically do not consummate their union during this time, but instead cook, eat, rest, and care for one another. What’s more, they ignore or even attempt to actively destroy the husband’s animal form. They deny that this is part of him and therefore part of their relationship.

In I Am Dragon, Mira heals Arman, and wakes the next morning to find he has left food for her (dragonfruit, appropriately). Together they begin building a home out of shipwreck debris they find scattered around the island. A cheery montage shows them decorating a living space, choosing clothes, playing music, and dancing. But the specter of Arman’s monstrous form lurks on the edge of their idyllic life. Mira has nightmares, and tells Arman how much she fears “the dragon,” notably not referring to them as the same person. And eventually, it emerges that Mira has been planning to escape, rejecting Arman’s dragon form entirely.

After he sheds the helmet and robes of The Stranger, Qimir turns his attention to caring for Osha: he heals her, lets her sleep in his bed, provides clothes, and cooks for her. In turn, after some lightsaber-wielding, Osha becomes more comfortable in his home and accepts the food he offers, eventually even trying on his helmet. Later, they bicker amiably on their way to Brendok, like an old married couple on a road trip. When not facing down Jedi, Qimir leaves his menacing persona behind and transforms into an empathetic, protective, and alluring partner.

Jane Grey, meanwhile, finds herself using her honeymoon sequestered away in a private cottage to try to cure Guildford of his Ethianism. With her knowledge of medicine, she concocts various potions and magical cures, but none of them succeed. Guildford often checks in on her after these disappointments, making sure she’s getting enough sleep and taking care of herself. It’s also clear that they’ve been regularly dining together when Jane suddenly dashes off to rescue her friend. Guildford follows her and the two protect one another, followed by an almost-tryst. Even when they move into the palace, their day-to-day (or rather night-to-night) life is one of comfortable domesticity, although they continue to deny Guildford’s horse form.

In each of these cases (although less so in The Acolyte without Season 2 to continue the story), playing house can only last for so long while the husband’s animal nature is denied. There is a part of him that is suppressed, rejected, and this leads to him being incomplete, a half-husband. Each hero is unable or unwilling to accept and celebrate his whole self with his bride. Eventually, it is that denial that leads to a rift between the couple, which can only be healed not with the transformation of the husband, but with the embrace of his animal form.

Enforcing Patriarchy: The Rival

Each of these relationships exists in direct opposition to the dominant culture in the story: Arman as the Dragon is the literal enemy of Mira’s people, Qimir as Sith is the enemy of Osha’s Jedi masters, and in My Lady Jane, intermarriage between humans and Ethians is punishable by death. By choosing to stay with their animal husbands, even for a brief time, our heroines are openly defying the patriarchal norms of their societies. But no oppressive society is about to take that transgression lying down. In each story, a rival emerges to enforce the patriarchal order, kill the beastly husband, and retrieve the bride.

In I Am Dragon, Mira’s betrothed and descendent of the dragon-slayer, Igor, journeys to rescue her from the dragon. Over the course of the story, it becomes clear that Igor cares nothing for Mira herself, and merely feels entitled to her as his bride. Dragon-slaying is his heritage, so he must find her, kill the dragon, and take his place as the hero of his people. Even the marriage ceremony illustrates his ownership of her: he takes hold of a rope tied to her boat and reels her in, thus binding her to the patriarchal order. Contrast that to Arman, who offers her the power of flight, a symbol for freedom.

In Osha’s case, Qimir’s rival for her loyalty is clearly Master Sol, who wants to keep his former pupil dependent on him and the Jedi. Sol takes patronizing fatherliness to an extreme, constantly rescuing Osha rather than letting her stand for herself, teaching her to deny her feelings and instincts, and lying to her to “protect” her. The Jedi refuse to allow that there might be any other way to access the Force than their own, thus invading the home of the Brendok witches and ultimately orphaning the twins. Sol continues to press this dominance to the end, challenging Qimir and insisting to Osha that his own lies were justified.

In My Lady Jane, there are two rivals, both women. Lady Frances attempts throughout the show to dominate her daughters and crush their wills, forcing them into unwanted marriages, applying political pressure, and even counseling Jane to abandon Guildford to save herself. The other rival is Mary Tudor, who is determined not only to emulate her father’s violent, oppressive, and misogynistic reign, but to crush anyone she considers “unnatural” or who poses a threat to her rule. These characters stand as clear examples of how women can enforce patriarchy, too.

In each story, there is a moment when the rival briefly recaptures or “rescues” the bride from her beastly husband, bringing her to a moment of decision: will she stay within the bounds of patriarchy like a good little girl? Or will she make an act of defiance to choose her own path?

Marriage: Choosing the Beast

The bride’s choice will ultimately decide not only her fate, but that of her mate as well. As an independent character, the wild masculine is deeply wounded, separated from himself and thus from his bride. He longs to transform not into a greater, more whole person, but into a lesser, half-person. Alone, without the embrace of his anima, he cannot see the value of his beastly form. Instead of healing, he faces annihilation.

As a part of the bride’s psyche, the beastly husband represents her innermost desires, the truth of her heart, and a spirit freed from the expectations of her society. He is her animus, her missing wild masculine. If she transforms him into a man, then she will tame his wild nature, bringing him to heel under the boot of the patriarchy. Choosing the human form and rejecting the beast means rejecting her own psychological needs. It would be just another form of psychic dismemberment.

Fortunately and unusually, each of these modern brides chooses her beastly husband without demanding he transform. When Osha finally agrees to become Qimir’s apprentice, she takes his hand under the willow tree, clasping the newly-bled lightsaber between them. A few scenes later, this wedding imagery is repeated when they hold hands over the saber again, this time looking into a sunrise/set. Notably, at the moment they “marry” under the willow tree, Qimir is wearing his beastly helmet with rows of menacing, wolfish teeth. He has not come to the light side or shed his Dark Side persona, but Osha has embraced him anyway without fear. And while they might not both be healed (yet), they are more whole together than they were apart.

When her efforts to cure Guildford of his Ethianism repeatedly fail, Jane begins to suspect that his “condition” cannot be cured at all. But listening to her Ethian friends Susanna and Archer finally convinces her that the truth is Guildford doesn’t NEED to be healed - being an Ethian is who he is, and it’s nothing to fear. Unfortunately, Guildford still associates his beastly form with his mother’s death, so he is unable to accept it as Jane encourages, and flees. After a near-death experience, he uses his equine speed to return to the castle just as Jane is deposed and captured. As our heroes battle toward the end, Guildford comes to learn that there are many other proud Ethians, and that his family loves and accepts him in any form.

Still, he’s unable to transform at will, and when Mary captures him and sentences both husband and wife to death, it seems their story may end in tragedy. But as Guildford has been struggling to accept himself, Jane too has been battling with her own conscience. Does she renounce Guildford to save herself? Use her wits to kill the guard and escape? Bend to her mother’s manipulation? Jane confronts each temptation, and ultimately chooses to face death rather than betray Guildford or herself. But when her Ethian friends (the wild instinct) appear to disrupt the execution, our heroine seizes the opportunity to rescue Guildford. Unable to free him from the burning pyre, she confesses her love for him, and they kiss amid the flames.

Fire is often a herald of transformation, burning away illusions to reveal the truth. And when Jane and Guildford exchange their vows in this symbolic marriage ceremony, Guildford’s fears and illusions are finally burned away. Now that his bride has accepted his beastly form, he can accept it too, and so he at last transforms at will into a horse so that they can escape. Their story ends with them married and whole before the sunrise.

Among our modern heroines, Mira is the boldest in her embrace of the beastly husband. Offered yet again as a bride to Igor, she realizes that this is not what she wants, and casts off the tether from her boat. She declares “I love the Dragon!” using the name of her husband’s animal form rather than his human name. Then, she sings the song that will call the dragon to her, and he appears to carry her away again.

But their story is not over yet! Earlier in the story, Arman told Mira of how he loses control when in dragon form, and that dragons are compelled to reproduce by burning maidens to death and retrieving their offspring from the ashes. Returning to the island with her a second time, the dragon drops her on the altar and prepares to spew fire, but Mira lunges up and kisses him. This act of love, even when he is a monster, stuns the beastly husband. Again, Mira declares her love and kneels before him, saying she does not wish to be parted. We might expect the animal husband to transform in this moment, but instead he lays his fearsome head in her lap as a lover. Their story ends with a child and a flight in the sky, silhouetted by the sun just like the other couples.

Each bride, when confronted with the option to return to the patriarchal limits of her childhood, chose instead an act of love and acceptance for her wild masculine. This embrace helped the beastly husband to accept his whole self, and he is healed without having to cut off the wild parts of himself.

What Does It Mean?

Again, this story is so rare in world folklore that it’s difficult to even find examples. On fleeting occasions that the woman chooses an untransformed beast, it is presented as a cautionary tale. These women are framed as a danger to the community for their bestial impulses and abandonment of the social order, much like witches who were said to consort with the devil. It was certainly never presented as a happy ending, insofar as we can tell from written accounts.

So what does the emergence of this tale mean for our culture? I would argue that this is just the latest step in our ongoing reckoning with historic gender roles, as well as renegotiating with other forms of systemic oppression. People of all genders are pressured to reject a part of ourselves, cutting us off from our own truth and desires that run counter to the enforced social order. We must not challenge patriarchy, must not embrace different gender expressions, must not blur established hierarchies of power, must not find joy and power in our identities, and so on.

This enforced denial does tremendous damage to everyone caught in the system, and so through story, we dream our way to escape. We dream of embracing the dark, wild parts of ourselves, of flying free on a spaceship or a dragon or enchanted horseback, and of being totally loved for who we are.

It’s clear patriarchy is still fighting back against this emancipation of the wild feminine and wild masculine, given that both The Acolyte and My Lady Jane were canceled not long after their release. In the case of The Acolyte in particular, there was a sustained campaign from its announcement to harass and silence the creators. Demoralizing as this phenomenon may be, it’s important to remember WHO ultimately owns these stories:

“Fanfiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk.

-Henry Jenkins, NYT 1997

Ah, an oldie-but-goodie. But Dr. Jenkins is right. Corporations may greenlight, film, release, and then cancel these stories, but ultimately they belong to the people. We take from these tales what speaks to us, leave what does not, and then retell them ourselves in fanfiction, in art inspired by the stories, and in lessons we pass on to our friends and families. If the embrace of the wild masculine speaks to you, let the story take root in your own life. Do you know someone who needs to be embraced, just as they are? Do you need to accept the parts of yourself that society tells you to hate? Do you want to be free, healed, and whole?

If so, then let these stories show you how, and tell more like them. Embrace the beast, and find your joy.

Sources:

Beauty and the Beast Tales From Around the World by Heidi Anne Heiner

In Search of the Swan Maiden: A Narrative on Folklore and Gender by Barbara Fass Leavy

And a relevant song for you, as a treat:

Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D.

[thecuriousbeauty]

can you write something with cowboy harry, like a sex in a pickup truck or something like that?

Easy there, Cowboy (Cowboy!Harry x reader)

A/N:- I made this a oneshot cause once I started writing it, I just kept going. Now I understand the obsession with cowboy tropes these days. Thanks for the request, anon! Let me know if you guys would like a part 2!

Word Count: 5,131

Warnings: Smut. Oral(m receiving), fingering, penetration(p in v), dirty talk. Talks about horses and horse riding.

Synopsis: y/n decides to go home to the countryside when she gets a university break. Little does she know she'll fall in love with the new cowboy who's working in her father's ranch.

______________________________________________

You felt great to be back home. You grew up in the countryside, in your father’s ranch and around all the different animals. But your father had big dreams for you, he didn’t want you to spend your life tending to the ranch like he did. So you studied, and went off to the city to attend university. You always rush back home when you get breaks. As much as you love the city, you miss your home and its people so much.

“I might take Clover for a ride today, dad.”, you tell your father as you sit with him, eating breakfast. Your mother kept piling your plate with food, murmuring about her daughter not eating enough while being away.

“Yeah? He’s been a bit aggressive these days. The vet said he’s alright, don’t know what’s wrong with that one, cost me a fortune to get him.Thought I’d use him for the race, but I’m not so sure now.” Your dad mutters, making you frown. “That doesn’t sound like Clover.”

Clover was your favorite horse and he was always gentle to you. “Yes, see for yourself. Harry will be around when you go, just ask him if you need something.”

Your dad has talked to you a lot about Harry, the new cowboy who started working for your father. He had joined a few months back, just when you left, so you had never met him. Your mom and dad seemed to love him though. They said he’s helped bring up the profits by a huge margin. 

“Mom, I’m stuffed!”, you laugh, pulling your plate back as your mom comes with more home made sausages.

 “Eating all that city food has messed with your appetite, sweetie. You used to eat so much as soon as you got back from the ranch!”

“Because I used to get tired from helping dad.”

The ranch wasn’t too far away, so you decided to walk. You put on your boots, and got going. Your father’s ranch had all kinds of animals. Chickens, cows, sheep. But what interested you most were always the horses. And that’s where you rushed off to first. 

The earthy, dusty woodchip and ammonia laced smell of the stables reminded you of the horse races your dad used to take you to when you were young. 

“Well hello, Silver!” You greeted the first horse, who immediately greeted you with a happy neigh, nuzzling her head right onto your shoulder as you reached out to stroke her shoulder and neck, giggling. “How’re you doing girl?”

You had named most of the horses, and the method you used was their appearance. Silver is a beautiful white horse. White horses are quite rare and Silver was your family’s favorite. She has won a lot of races with her impressive speed.Your father’s very proud of having her. The only problem is that she’s getting old.

You greet the other horses, and finally make your way towards the last one, kept separate from the others, which makes you frown. 

You loved all of the horses, but this boy is your favorite. He is younger than most of the other horses, yet, he’s the only one who can beat Silver in races. He has a rich brown body with defining black shading on his legs and tail. His soft parts, such as the muzzle and eyebrows and around the flanks, are golden brown. 

“Might wanna be careful with that one, miss.”

You turned around to see the handsome young man, watching you curiously. With the long dirt covered boots, and the cowboy hat he had on, you figured he was Harry. 

Wow. You had no idea Harry was hot.

“Why’d you say that?”, you ask.

He pushes the barrel of horse feed to a side, dusting his big hands against each other. His sleeves were rolled up and you could see that his skin was inked. Just his sculpted arms made you imagine how he could use it to hold you down while-

“He’s not as friendly as the others. Doesn’t hesitate to put down whoever irritates him, which is just about everyone.”, Harry speaks, not taking his eyes off you. He had sharp jaw bones, captive green eyes and beautiful features on his face. 

Harry’s lips turned up into a smirk as he caught you checking him out and you quickly looked away. “Are you here to look at horses?”, he asks.

“No, I’m here to take Clover for a ride.”, you tell him, smiling as you look into the big beautiful caramel eyes of the horse’s, letting him know it was you, before you slowly move your hand to stroke his neck. 

“You know his name and he seems to know you, seeing as how you’re not on the ground yet.”, Harry comments. “But I would advise stepping away right about, now," he adds as you move your other hand to stroke his body. 

“Hey buddy, you miss me?”, you coo softly, grinning as the horse lowers his head down to you and you nuzzle your against his forehead. “I missed you too.”

Harry had never seen the horse being affectionate to anyone. But if he was a horse, he would definitely want to get close to you as well. You talked to the horse like you were talking to a child. 

“He’s never been aggressive around me, Harry. We rode round the hills every evening.” Harry strides right next to you, slowly putting a hand on the horse as well, and he didn’t make a fuss at all. 

“See? Just needs a bit of extra love, this one. Oh I’m y/n, by the way.” Harry smiles, already having put that together by now. Your dad always talks a lot about you, his only daughter. He never expected you to be so strikingly beautiful though. 

“Nice to meet ya, y/n. No wonder why Clover likes you, he’s fallen for your beauty.”, Harry says, making you giggle as Clover continues to nuzzle his head against you. “Lucky horse, getting to flirt with you.”

“I much prefer animals over humans, anyway.”

“Why is that, y/n?”

“Cause they don’t cheat on you, they don’t lie to you, they’re innocent and they deserve our love.” 

Harry was now very interested to know more about you. “You don’t think there are humans capable of that too?”

y/n shrugs, going to open the small door to get Clover out. “Maybe.”

“Well there are things animals can’t help ya with, ya know.”, Harry says, stepping aside as you lean down next to him to undo the lock. He sucked in a breath as he saw your ass in those tight jeans. 

“Nothing I can’t do to myself.”, you answer, getting up and turning around to look at Harry. “I’m gonna take Clover out now. Nice to meet you too, Harry.” You give him an innocent smile, and he gives you a smile back, but his mind was already having thoughts. The kind of thoughts he shouldn’t have about his boss’ daughter.

______________________________________________

You were out with some friends at the local bar, catching up. Most of them were in relationships, so you felt a little awkward after some time. You excused yourself to go get a drink. 

“Aren’t ya a fine little thing. Haven’t seen you around here before, have I?”, a heavily drunk man steps in front of you, eyeing your body up and down, letting out a low whistle.

“That’s cause I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere around you.”, you mutter, stepping aside but he blocks you with his body, letting out a laugh. “I wonder what else you can do with that mouth, little girl. Wanna show me?”

“Move!”, you snap as you try to go through his other side and he steps in front of you again. 

“Clint, leave her alone.” You were surprised to see Harry step in between you two, pushing the other man away with a hand on his chest. “She’s not interested. Go away.”

The man grumbled before going away, and the tall cowboy turned to you, his eyes looking you over. “Are you okay?”

He was not in his soiled work clothes. He had a different, cream colored cowboy hat on, and boots, but not the ones he was wearing back in the farm. The light colored shirt he was wearing fit around his muscular torso very well, and it was slightly translucent, allowing you to see that there were more tattoos on his body. 

“y/n?”

You quickly nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks Harry.”

“People around here never really change.”, he says, giving you a small smile. “You look bored.”, he notices.

“Is it that obvious?”, you let out a laugh. His eyes twinkle as he smiles. “My friends are busy snogging their boyfriends’ faces off. I was just about to get a drink before leaving.”

“Well, let me give you some company.”, he says, nodding his head towards the two bar stools at a corner.

“Oh it’s okay Harry, you must be here with your friends too-”

He cuts you off before you complete, “They’ll survive without me for a while.”

So you follow him to the bar, and you both order your drinks. “Do you wear your cowboy hat all the time?”, you ask, making Harry chuckle. “Most of the time, yeah. Is it not my style?”

“No it is, you look great-” You flinch and Harry smirks, spinning on his stool as he faces you. “Thanks, love. I think you look beautiful too.”

You know the blush is creeping up your cheeks, and you hope he doesn’t see them. “Thanks. Um, tell me about you, Harry. My parents speak very highly of you.”

“I love working for them, and they treat me well! There’s nothing much to know about me, I’m a cowboy, I love my cattle and horses.”, he says plainly. “But you, you’re interesting. What do you study?”

You tell Harry about your course in the University, and how your father didn’t want you to spend your life on the ranch like he did. 

“You must think I’m some stuck up bitch, I lost most of my friends like that.”, you say, chugging some beer from your jug. 

“No, I don’t think so at all! It’s amazing that you’re studying something you love, and it’s not like you forgot about your home. Like I said, the people here will never change, y/n, don’t think too much into it.”

You nod, smiling at him. “Now I know why my parents like you so much.” Harry wasn’t anything like the other men you’ve met. He had a broad mind set, and he was respectful.

He grinned, showing off his dimples. You haven’t been able to take that cute smile out of your head since the time you first saw it. You spend some more time talking with him, until you decide to stop on the beer. 

“I blabber shit when I get drunk. Don’t wanna embarass myself.”, you explain, and Harry laughs, swiping his hand over his lips as he keeps his empty jug on the counter. “I’m sure it’s not gonna be embarrassing, love. What do you usually blabber about?”

Your heart melted at the term of endearment, and you took a minute to answer his question. “Uhh, things on my mind at the moment.”

“Hmm. What’s on your mind at this moment?”, Harry whispers, leaning closer to you. Your eyes move to his lips. You really want to kiss those lips, throw his hat away, run your fingers through his hair while he pulls your clothes off of you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”, you answer instead.

“I really would. Think I know already but it would be much better if I can hear it from your sweet voice.” You tip your head to the side, watching him pull out some cash to pay for the drinks. “I can take care of mine-”

“My treat! Got my monthly pay from your dad today.”, he winks at you and says bye to the bartender. “Come on, I’ll drop you home.”

“Is it on your way?”

“Yes, I live on the next street.” He places a hand on the edge of the barstool, keeping it steady so you can hop off. You get out of the bar and Harry points to the truck. “That one.”

“Of course. You drive a truck.”, you nod as you follow him and he laughs. “What? Do I look like someone who drives a truck?”

He does, actually, you thought. Big and strong.

“It has a lot of space, you know, and I use it a lot for work.” He opens the passenger side door for you, offering you his hand to get in since the seat’s a little high up. You held his calloused fingers, they were rough but also really warm and strangely comforting. You realized you were still holding on to it, so you quickly dropped it.

If Harry had noticed it, he didn’t comment on it as he closed your door and went to the other side.You sat in silence for a while, until he asked you, “Do you think Silver’s the best option for the race?”

“She’s great, we use her all the time but I think Clover’s our best bet if we wanna win.”

“I think so too, he’s faster.”, Harry answers. “And as far as I’ve seen, you’re the only one who can ride him, so you should do the race instead of me.”

You turn to look at him. “Harry, you won our last race with Silver. Besides, I won’t be here that long, I’ve gotta go back to uni.”

“Oh.” His face looked a little disappointed. 

“How about we work with Clover together? I’m sure we can train him in time for the races. He’ll let you ride him. If not, Silver’s always a backup option.”

Harry slowly nodded.  “I’m using you as defense if he decides to be mean, though. That horse can kick.”

You laughed, slapping his arm lightly. “I think he just doesn’t like you!”

“Oh come on, everyone likes me! You just met me and you’re already falling for me.”

You gape, turning around fully to face him. He had a smug grin on his face. “I-I’m not!”, you say, but your face was heating up.

Harry shrugs. “Whatever you say, love.”

It was wrong. He worked for your dad. But God, as cocky as he was, it was the truth. You are falling for him, hard.

____________________________________________

“I’m gonna go get this to the houses, thanks lad.”, you hear your dad as you go downstairs. You had just woken up, but everyone else already had and they were on and about their work. 

You wouldn’t have gone down stairs in your shorts and an old t-shirt if you’d known Harry would be there. He had brought in the milk supply from the cattle for the day. You finally saw him without his hat, which was tucked under his arm. 

He had lucious brown locks, curly at the ends. 

“There she is, sleep well, honey?”, your mom asks you and Harry’s eyes shoot up to look at you. He takes in your outfit, and smiles. 

“Yes mom, good morning everyone.”, you say, going down the rest of the stairs since Harry’s seen you anyway. 

“Harry told us what you want to do with Clover and I think it’s a good idea! Nothing wrong in giving him a try.”, your dad says and you nod, looking everywhere but at Harry. “Be careful.”, he adds.

“Don’t worry dad, I’ll watch out for Harry.”, you say, making them laugh. 

“Nice to know.”, Harry says, drowning the rest of his tea and your mom takes it from him. “Thanks, Mrs.y/l/n. I’ve gotta go now, I’ll be around whenever you wanna come over.”, he tells you and you nod. 

“We have to go to the market in the evening to pick up some more fodder.” Your dad walks him out.

“Sure, I’ll bring my truck.”

You went over to the farm later, finding Harry feeding the cattle. “I liked your outfit in the morning.”, he calls out to you, making you roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, it was cute.” You grab the extra gloves laying around, putting it on and grabbing the sweeper. “Thanks! I finally saw that you have hair, I thought you were bald.”

He scoffed, and you grin before starting to sweep all the dirt. “y/n! Leave it there, I’ll do it. Don’t get yourself dirty.”

“It’s fine, I grew up doing this stuff. I’d love to let you do it, but we don’t have all day, Harry, you and Clover need all the training time you can get.”

“Yes ma’am.” You didn’t know, but Harry made a mental note to get up extra early tomorrow so he can finish all his work in time before you came over. He found himself staring at you in awe. You had tied your hair up into a high ponytail, keeping it away from your face that barely had any makeup on. 

“Pass me the shovel, Harry?”

He snaps out of his trans, getting up and taking the shovel, grabbing the sweeper out of your hands. “What-”

“-I got this, you can feed them.”

He didn’t really give you a choice so you switched places. Once you were done, you headed to the stables to get Clover. Harry kept the saddle and blanket over the horse, getting him ready as you wore your helmet and gloves. You mounted him and he trotted along, making a guttural neigh as Harry kept one hand on the bridle. He was walking alongside you, holding his helmet in the other hand.

“Be nice, Clovie.”, you rub under his neck, and look at Harry. “He likes neck rubs a lot, so if he’s getting restless, that’ll help.”

“Noted.”, Harry nodded. Once you were out to your usual spot where the horse can run free, you got down. “You gonna let Harry ride you?”, you coo, as the beautiful eyes of the horse look at yours. 

Harry carefully mounts the horse and he neighs, immediately trying to shake him off. Harry has experience with a lot of horses so he didn’t fall right away, he held on with one hand and reached to do the neck rub. 

“There you go, it’s okay, Clovie..”, you say, nodding at Harry as the horse calmed down, just a little bit.

“What’d ya say we go for a small ride?”, Harry asks the horse. Clover was clearly ready to let go and run. 

“Keep talking to him, he likes it.”, you tell him, stepping away and taking your helmet off. “I’ll wait here, come back safely!”

“If I die let my mum know that-fucking hell!” You couldn’t help but laugh as the horse took off. This was going to be fun.

______________________________________________

In the next few days, you worked with Harry to train Clover and they were looking good for the race. Clover had stopped throwing Harry off for fun, and you loved to know that Harry didn’t think he was an aggressive horse anymore. He just requires a lot of attention. 

You noticed Harry coming to your house quite often too. He would either bring something in for your mom and dad, or come to take something for the ranch, stealing glances at you whenever he came. 

You were sitting up in the balcony with a book in your hand when he came that day, and Harry was disappointed he couldn’t catch you. He was just going to his truck parked outside when you whistled.

Harry looked up with wide eyes, and grinned, but put his finger up to his lips. “Your dad’s right here!”, he mouthed and you giggled. 

“Can I come up there?”, he asks, already looking around for a way to get up without having to go inside the house again. 

“Stairs at the back.”, you tell him, pointing to the back of the house with your thumb and he runs away. 

Soon the cowboy was there to see you, tipping his hat to you in greeting. “I was hoping to run into you.”

“I’m sure you were.”, you tease. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Can’t go long without seeing me, can you?”, he teases back, stepping closer to you, backing you up to the wall.

“Nothing like that.”, you say, holding your breath as the tall man towers over you. He reaches a hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re so pretty.”, he mumbles. You blush under his gaze, keeping a hand on his chest. You both knew you liked each other and that the other knew, by now.

 “Harry. You realize what can happen if my father finds out?”

“He won’t find out.”, Harry says. “And if he does, what's the worst that can happen? I’ll lose my job. No problem, I can go work anywhere else. Cowboys are in high demand, you know.”

You shake your head, grinning as he smoothes a thumb over your cheek. “Besides, what’s life without a little thrill? I know you enjoy it. I’ve seen the way you look at me like you want me to fuck-”

You bring your other hand up to cup his mouth. “Harry!”, you whisper-shout..

He snickers. When you lower your hand he says, “Love it when you look so blushy and flustered for me.”

You hear your dad telling your mom he’s going to go out, and Harry has to move his truck or he’ll see that he’s still here. “I’ll see you tomorrow, your mum invited me over for a barbeque.”, he tells you before he goes.

You nod, and he bends down to press his lips against your cheek. Even that light touch sent shivers through your nerves, shivers that made your whole body tremble. “S-See you, Harry.”, you managed to say.

“See ya, pretty girl.” He winks and tips his hat to you again, before taking off. 

______________________________________________

Your house was filled with a lot of people. Your mom and dad love to host a barbeque party every now and then. You sat exactly opposite from Harry, both talking to family and friends, but stealing glances at each other when you had the chance.

You wore a cute yellow summer dress, and Harry wore jeans and a red shirt, leaving the top buttons open, with a bandana around his neck.

Finally, when Harry was free, he caught your eyes, giving you a look. He nods his head to the door, telling you he’ll be waiting outside. He leaves, and soon you excuse yourself to leave too.

You looked around for him, and a hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you into a closet. “Finally. God you look so amazing in this dress.”

“Thanks! I like your look too-”

He presses your hand to his crotch. “Feel that? That’s what you did to me.” He was so hard. That must have been painful. 

You were wet too. You wanted him to stuff that bandana into your mouth to keep you quiet while he fucked you. The thought made you clench your thighs together, and Harry cups your cheek, pulling you closer to him with his arm wrapped around your waist. “Can I kiss you, y/n?”

“Please.”, you whisper, and he doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to yours. Your eyes close as his lips mold against yours and you respond with enthusiasm, tilting your head back as he leans in, devouring your lips. You rub your hand against his crotch, making him groan. “Shit. I’ll come in my pants if you do that.”

You started to go down on your knees, but he stopped you. “It’s too dusty. Let’s go to my truck.”

“Your truck? What if someone sees?”

You were giggling with the thrill of it as he grabs your hand and leads you out without anyone seeing. “We’ll be careful. But I can’t wait any longer, I need you.”

You got into the back of his trunk and you made him sit, while you laid on your stomach, keeping a hand on his thigh. You didn’t really have space to sit down. Harry dropped his pants and you took his dick out of his boxers, mouth watering at the sight. 

“You’re so big.”, you muttered, boosting his ego. “Thanks love, do you wanna take me in your mouth? Give it a taste?”

“Uh huh.” You wanted nothing more. You lowered your head, taking just the tip into your mouth. Harry groans at the sight, he could also see your ass this way and he flips up your dress so he can grab a handful of your ass, making you moan. You slowly take him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, one of your hands fondling with his balls. 

“Bloody hell, that f-feels so fucking good.” Harry throws his head back, his other hand bunching up your hair into a makeshift ponytail so he could hold it away from your face. “T-That’s it, baby, just like that. You know how many times I’ve dreamed about having those pretty lips wrapped around my dick?”

You take him deeper, eyes watering as his hips thrust upwards a little, making you gag. “Shit, sorry.”, he says.

 “It’s okay, I like it.”, you whisper, stroking him with your hand as you lift your head up to look at him. “Are you gonna cum, Harry? Fill my mouth up?”

“Fuck, yeah. You’re gonna take it all like a good girl, aren’t you?”, he moans as you put your mouth on him again, and he pushes your head down, your nose burying into his mound as his dick hits the back of your throat. You feel him getting close and Harry tugs you off by your hair, shooting his cum into your open mouth. You swallow it all, humming and he pulls you up to sit on his lap, bringing your lips to his again, tasting him on your tongue. 

He slips his hands under your dress, squeezing each of your breasts. You start grinding on his thigh, rubbing yourself against him. “Harry..”

“Don’t worry, baby girl, I’ll take care of you.” He brings one hand to where you most need him, pressing his fingers over your throbbing clit making you gasp. “You’re so fucking perfect, I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you.”

“Yeah? Do whatever you want to do to me, Harry.” He pulls your panties to a side, his fingers running over your folds. “You’re so wet, darling. Is this all for me?”

“Yes.” You moan as he slips two fingers inside your pussy. “I can’t wait to put my dick inside this pretty hole. That feel good, baby? Want another finger?”

“Yes, yes, please..” Harry gives you another finger, curling them to stroke against your g-spot, making you grip onto his shoulders and writhe on his lap. “I’ll give you whatever you want, sweetheart. I’m so fucking gone for you.”

You were cumming on his fingers soon, moaning loudly. “Yes, baby, give it to me. You sound so sweet, you know? Wonder how you’ll sound when I’m inside of you.” Harry gets you through your orgasm, continuing to move his fingers in and out of you until you smile up at him, cheeks flushed. 

He grins, bringing his fingers to his lips, licking his fingers clean. “You taste so sweet.”

“I need you inside me.”, you kiss his jawline. You couldn’t wait to feel full from his dick. 

Harry nods, and lifts you up so he can stand up. “Legs up on the seat, want you on all fours.”

You do as he said, getting on the seat and pushing your ass out. Harry groans, spreading your cheeks. “Never seen such a pretty pussy before.”

“Quick, Harry, we have to go back inside!” As much as you didn’t want to, you had to.

“Right. I’ll just have to save eating you out for later, eh?” He had to bend his head to stop it from banging against the top of the trunk, and he kept one knee on the seat for support as he brought his dick to your entrance.

You push back against him as he enters you, and you rest your head against the seat, moaning. “Oh fuck..”

“You’re so tight, god, so perfect.” He pushes his full length inside you and lets you adjust for a minute. “Fuck me Harry..” 

“Gonna fuck you so good, sweet girl.”, he promises, pulling his hips back and thrusting it forward making you squeal. He went in so deep, hitting all the right spots. You were trying not to scream. 

“Shit there’s someone outside.”, Harry says, but his movements didn’t slow down. 

“W-What?”, you were out of it, you didn’t care at this point. You wanted to cum. He took his bandana off of his neck and brought it to your mouth. “Here. Hate to muffle your pretty moans, sweetheart, but we don’t wanna get caught now, do we?”

You moan into the cloth as his fingers push it into your mouth just like you imagined, but this was hotter. “So warm and tight, best fucking pussy. I’m not gonna last much longer.”

Harry goes faster, holding onto your hips. “You gonna cum for me sweetheart?” You nod, and it only takes you a few more seconds to reach our high. Harry pulls out when you’ve finished, stroking himself as you turn around. He takes the bandana out of your mouth and holds your jaw open with one hand, the other shooting his cum down your throat again.

You swallow it all down, and Harry collapses next to you on the seat. You both catch your breath, and smile lazily at each other. “That was good.”, you say.

“Never thought I’d take a sexy girl in the back of my trunk.”, he said, and you roll your eyes. Harry reaches to grab a cloth from the front and wipes around your mouth and neck. You fix your panties, dress, and your hair. 

“Do I look okay?”, you ask him.

He smiles, cupping your cheek for a quick kiss. “Perfect.”

You both get out of the trunk, and he mutters in your ear, “I’ll top this off next time, promise.”

“Next time huh?”, you say and he smirks, playfully smacking your ass. “I know how well you can ride horses, maybe you can show me how you ride something else.”

You gasp, turning around to hit his chest as you were now walking towards people and they couldn’t hear what was coming out of his dirty mouth. “Easy there, cowboy.”

______________________________________________

Taglist:-@livypops12352568 @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan, @kiwitsayedsugar, @angeldavis777, @madstyles3204

(Drop a message if you want me to add you to my taglist!)

[blacktabbygames]

why is scarlet hollow hard to pitch? you can romance a cool stylish goth girl who loves anime and has a pet stick bug. this should be enough for people

So part of the challenge is that, from a marketing perspective, that isn't really a pitch! You don't actually know what kind of game it is from that, and there isn't a story hook. A pitch needs to communicate: 1. Gameplay. 2. Story. 3. Why someone should play — what's ~special~ about the game?

And a good pitch needs to do all of that without falling back on specific genre-descriptors. So you can't just say, "it's a mystery game" or "it's a horror game," and you definitely can't say "it's a visual novel."

Slay the Princess has (IMO) a very strong pitch (and I can say that because we've got hard data on how well it sells!):

Juxtaposition of cute art with horror elements sets the tone and communicates the interesting narrative dissonance in the game.

Logo + "please don't" combination establishes a push and pull between the narrator and princess + communicates that the game is funny.

Short description tells you the story by giving you a task, and communicates that you have agency to do something different in the second sentence.

To capture what's special about Scarlet Hollow you need:

To communicate the story hook — harder with a slow burn!

Communicate how much your choices matter — useless to say as a developer, because developers lie about this all the time.

Scarlet Hollow is also dragged down a bit by being in early access — so we have high hopes for it performing a lot better after the full release.

Falling back on the splashscreen text we use as an intro (you won't be able to save everyone, etc.) helped improve things a lot — it communicates in a quieter way that choices matter. And it's also helped to lean on the reputation we built w/ StP by mentioning it at the beginning. But even then, most days we're able to move 1 copy for every 20 copies we sell of StP.

At the end of the day though, we're super comfortable and stable as a studio now, so we can continue to make scarlet hollow the best game we can without worrying about how well it sells on a day to day basis!

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 5

<-former chapter -AO3 link -next chapter -> Call of duty. My ko-fi, Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. WC: 6.3k

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, it dies later on, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

MDNI. MDNI. Dead dove do not eat.

Authors note: do note there will be the use of prong collars in this. Just like all the other fucked up stuff in this, i don't support that irl, but this is fiction. On a different note, it will probably be at least a week before I can give you another chapter lol, shit is happening, my sinners and im holding on. Also thank u to all the nice asks and comments ive been sent. means a lot <33. ENJOY!

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You could only stay in the farmhouse for so long; even though you desperately wanted to stay inside, Price dragged you outside, talking about fresh air and enjoying nature. 

To you it was nothing but lies and the smell of animal shit.

There were no pavements, no cars flashing by, no advertisements or shops, no scents of food or sweets trying to lure you in. There were no hybrid clothes shops, where John would play dress up with you for his next party. Show him how the lingerie set he picked out looked against your tail.

He would make sure your nails were always perfect and manicured. Without the claws, he made sure you knew you were loved anyways, your nails adorned with expensive nail polish and gemstones. Anything that his Daisy, his princess, his darling, his puppy wanted, she always got.

Now you were here, following him into the stables, to see how far Nikolai - who had forced himself into your life - was with the tractor.

Warily looking out for the hybrids, staying close to your owner.

The stitches were gone and everything was healed all nicely - that didn’t mean that you wanted to start over and get more bites that would need stitches. Once was enough. Hopefully Price and Nikolai understood that too.

Also, you didn’t want to get fucked dumb by those mutts again; they didn’t deserve your pussy. Especially not Ghost or Gaz. Not really Soap either, he had just been nice because he had to. You were sure. They were nothing but stupid working dogs, who didn’t know how to behave.

Your owner, John Price, looked in love; he was watching Nik just as much as he was watching the tractor. The stress that had sometimes followed him home when you lived in the city was no longer visible. It had left his bones, made him happy and pliable, clearly blossoming in his new role as a farmer. You loved him but what the fuck were you supposed to do with this whole situation? Pretend to be happy?

You were a pet, so it wasn’t like you had any options. And your attempts at persuading him to move back to the city hadn’t gone well. Resisting your ever present urge to let him fuck you, would probably not do you any good. Earn you a spanking from both him and Nikolai. They might even throw you to the hounds.

One of those said hounds were getting closer to you, the hybrid making you tense up a little.

“You’re looking good, princess,” Gaz said casually, shooting you an awfully charming smile, his tail wagging while you tipped your ears backwards instead of replying.

“Feeling better?”

You didn’t reply, merely stared at the tractor, boring as it was. Maybe if you ignored him, he would go away. He stepped closer to you, his dark gaze resting on you, while you stepped closer to John, growling as a warning.

“Behave,” Price said over his shoulder, clearly more interested in that Russian man of his, than your safety.

It only took another step and Gaz’s teeth a tad too close to you, to send you bolting out. Back inside it was then, you concluded, enough farming bullshit for today.

Only to meet Ghost in the way, his scarred face grinning smugly, ears tipping towards you.

“‘Ello pup.”

Nah, you weren’t fucking with that today. You managed to see the shadow of Soap before you bolted again.

Running still wasn’t your best talent; so though you knew it was stupid, you decided to do what you weren’t allowed to anyways. You crawled the wooden fence, ignoring the male hybrids' shouts and barks — as well as the fence’s slight squeak - and landed on the other side with a grunt. 

The corns were tall and you took a breath, looking over your shoulder, only to see a worried looking Soap being the closest.

He let out a concerned whimper.

“Dinnae lass,” he warned, a softness in his voice that you recognized from your moments inside.

You would deal with the consequences and the punishment that Price would give you for leaving the ground. It was better than getting your shoulders bitten to pieces - so you got up and rushed into the tall corn field. Abandoning the male hybrids.

Stupid. They were all stupid.

Maybe this should be your new go-to hiding spot. You could hear them bark aggressively but not getting nearer. They weren’t allowed to leave either. You felt your chest swell a little with pride over the idea. You wouldn't be gone for long, just until they lost interest in you.

It was several seconds before you stopped, panting with your tongue out. You couldn’t see the fence or the farm from all the corn by now, which finally meant some peace. Your tail wagged and your body relaxed, a soft wind playing with your fur for a moment, making the corn move around you, like waves in the ocean.

However, that peace didn’t last long.

“My my,” the voice almost appeared out of nowhere and you turned slowly, unsure but still afraid of what you would see, “what are you doing here, perrita? On my property?”

You knew Alejandro and Rodolfo had gotten a hybrid, but you had been too swept up in your own nightmare to ask about her; now, as she towered above you, seeming more wolf than dog, you would rather have one of the mutts on your own farm. A scared little whimper escaped you.

“You must be Price’s precious lapdog, no?” She asked, slowly moving in between the corn with ease, as she circled around you, fear making you stay still, “a little city puppy, forced to be out on a farm. How sad.”

There was no trace of sympathy in her voice. It took you a moment to swallow some spit and another moment to take a proper breath.

“I’ll go home again, I’m sorry.” You tried your best to seem submissive, leaning forward a little, tail tugged along your leg. You at least had your owner at the farm - but here? Here, with this new, wolf-like hybrid, you didn't have anyone. You weren’t even supposed to be here, weren’t allowed. Sure, you knew Alejandro and Rudy, but they also knew you weren’t supposed to be there.

“Hmmm,” she answered in a rumble, licking her teeth slowly, casually showing off her fangs, “what’s your name, perrita?”

She screamed danger. Her energy screamed ‘I can make worse wounds than them’ and you certainly didn’t feel like testing that. In fact, you would rather get as much distance between you and her as possible.

“D-Daisy.” It was the name Price had chosen, not that you were really called it. But you weren’t going to tell this hybrid woman who looked like she could swallow you whole, that you were usually called princess, pretty girl, puppy or sweetheart.

“I’m Valeria,” she replied, finally stopping her circling, only to step closer to you. She wasn’t really that tall, but her energy was as if she was,  she had strong arms and legs; scars littered her too, her hair short, ears big and tipped forward without a care in the world. Her collar was thick and sturdy, opposed to your own fancy one.

You almost wanted to point out that yours was prettier. That you were a lapdog, not one of the working ones, that you were not made to be played rough with. That you were no threat.

You could hear barking in the distance. Voices calling out for you. Even though you hadn’t met Valeria for more than a minute, you already knew you wanted to get a good distance between you and her.

“Uh nice to meet you, but I better get back home, sorry-“ you turned around quickly but before you could even think to bolt, strong arms were around you and the other dog hybrid pulled you close to her chest.

“Eres tan linda e ingenua,” she almost lovingly growled into your ear, and while you didn’t understand what she was saying, you were much more distracted by her tongue. She licked your cheek a couple of times, slow and wet strokes; you got the feeling that she might eat you raw without regret and you twisted a little in her grip, letting out a louder growl. She laughed, one of her hands pawing at your tit, claws sinking into the fabric. She smelled of danger and lust; like the mutts at home when they first got their dirty paws on you.

“I’m gonna enjoy me—“

“VALERIA!” Her name echoed through the fields, making both of you freeze. Like a warning rushing in between the corns, her name couldn’t be ignored.

She growled deeply, seeming annoyed with the disturbance, while you wanted to kiss whoever of your neighbors it was. She rolled her hips, humping your ass twice, before she was interrupted again.

“Valeria!” It was Alejandro, you realised then, who yelled once again, “ sé que la tienes! Let her go!”

With one deep sniff of you, while you whimpered, the wolf-looking hybrid finally let go of you.

“I won’t be as nice next time, perrita - now go, before I change my mind and take you from your boys.”

You didn’t need to be told that again and didn’t want to argue that they weren’t your boys - the moment she let go, you bolted towards the way you came. 

How they knew that she had gotten a hold of you wasn't clear, but it wasn’t like you were gonna turn around and ask Alejandro or Rudy.

The answer came to you anyways; one angry looking John Price stood with crossed arms, phone in hand. A grinning Nikolai next to him and three growling hybrids moving back and forth along the men and the fence. Every single one of them stilled and stared at you as you sheepishly walked to the fence, tail between your legs and ears tipped down.

You stood, just for a moment, with the fence in between you and the others. Considering staying there, as if that would be a good solution.

“Get your arse over here,” Price snapped, his voice stern and dark, as he put his phone in his pocket, marching towards you. 

You hastily and in a rather inexperienced manner, climbed the fence and got to the right side. Instantly, tears welled up in your eyes and you let out a whimper, almost ready to tell about the horrors you had just been through - only to bark loudly at the hybrids as they all charged towards you, hands touching you, only stopped by a sharp whistle. 

“Nyet,” Nikolai called harshly, “off her. Now.”

Soap and Gaz instantly let go, stepping back as John reached you, but Ghost didn’t move. His hand rested on your neck, pressing your collar against your skin, his nose almost fully pressed against your temple. 

“Let go.” Price’s voice was sharp and you let out a little whimper- not sure who of them you would rather deal with right now.

“She smells wrong,” Ghost replied, not moving, but his voice not as harsh as it could be, “smell of her.”

Her. You didn’t know whether Valeria would be in trouble over this or not. You had been the one to step into her territory anyways. She wasn't the one who had jumped a fence after all.

“We will fix that.” 

Ghost let out a grumble but after two seconds of staring at each other, the hybrid finally let go of you, earning himself a swift “Good boy.” 

Then Price grabbed into the ring in your collar and pulled, ignoring how you instantly broke into tears, excuses and explanations spilling from your lips like a waterfall, desperate to avoid punishment. You didn't want to stay with Valeria, but you didn’t want this either.

You were dragged past Nikolai who shared a short glance with Price - and they gave each other a short nod.

“C’mon boys,” Nikolai then called, the hybrids instantly moving to him, even though you could feel them staring at you, “we’re gonna join them.”

They were what? You cried harder, tugging at John’s arm, your owner ignoring your pleads and cries.

“I’m sorry sir, I got scared, I didn’t mean to run away,” you babbled, every second word followed by a small sob or whine, tail between your lets, almost making it hard to walk normally, “ they scared me, I was gonna come back, I’ll be good sir, I’ll behave! I wasn’t running away!”

There was no mercy from your owner, who just marched you towards the farmhouse that had almost become home by now.

If someone had told you a year ago that you would be a dog on a farm by now, surrounded by working hybrids, you would have laughed in their face. Loudly and impolitely.

You? Pretty lapdog living in the city out on a farm?

You weren’t even at the house yet, somehow crying harder because you felt so sorry for yourself in general. You were such a perfect lapdog, such a perfect being, forced to be out here, in the cold countryside. A tragedy.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The prong collars looked like they would choke too and you wanted to scream merely at the sight.

“I’m not running the risk of having my darling all bitten to pieces again - this will hopefully help you to remember.”

None of them seemed too happy about it; you couldn’t blame them, you wouldn’t want those either, but you were horrified by the idea of getting bitten as harshly as they did last time. If both Price and Nik hadn’t been there, you doubted it would be possible to get the collars on them.

You were still crying yourself, from the shame of having jumped over the fence and creating chaos, only resulting in this.

The moment they were allowed, they were on you, ignoring your whimpering and fingers trying to push them off - Soap was the nicest, helping you get your clothes off instead of letting the others rip them, even if all of them were obsessed with your smell. Or well, with how you smelled of Valeria to be exact.

Soap licked your cheek and you growled at him, tipping your ears back, trying to push him away, fingers against his chest; but he didn’t move, only pressed himself closer, growling back to prove he was stronger than you - that you were supposed to be submitting to him.

“They shouldn’t be this aggressive,” you heard Price point out to Nikolai, but you were too distracted by Soap grinding his still clothed crotch against your poor, exposed cunt - you whined his name, but he didn’t stop. 

“Gonn’ mark ye, hen,” he promised in a murmur, teeth sinking into your jaw for just a moment - a warning tug in the leash made him let go almost instantly, instead licking the spot a couple of times, “gonn’ make ye smell all bonnie again.”

Both Gaz and Ghost were barking, but they were both held by the collars by Price and Nik, kneeling next to them, clearly antsy.

“-are working dogs-” it was hard to hear them, over your own mind buzzing so much, over the barks and the pleasure that you hated, “-hierachy is importa-”, one of Soap’s hands disappeared and a moment later, you heard his fly get tugged down, “show them where the line is, so–”

You howled in a high pitched tone as he forced his cock inside you, making you twist and try to push Soap okay. The stretch was intense, burning despite how wet you felt. “It's okay, bonnie lass,” Soap growled, forcing his cock a little deeper into you, nosing at your shoulder, near one of your scent glands, his hands moving to grab onto your thighs, “we’re nae gonna hurt ye.”

You both knew it was a lie - but you at least trusted Soap a little more than the two other mutts who were watching, knowing he could control himself. They were barely able to sit still, tongues out, almost drooling, while their eyes were dark in a way that reminded you of that time in the shed.

He forced his cock deeper, the knot finally reaching the opening of your poor, stretched cunt and you let out a sound at the fear of it sliding inside you. The scent of Soap was already beginning to overwhelm the scent that Valeria had left behind against your will - a part of you wished you had fought her more, had attempted to hurt her more.

The cry that left you was pained and afraid - his fangs almost having forced its way through your skin; you were only saved by John, who pulled Soap back by the collar, the prongs digging into the hybrid’s skin.

“Behave, boy,” John snarled while a mixture of a whine and a growl left Soap, as he helplessly pawed at the collar, “No breaking skin - already told you.”

“‘m sorry, sorry,” he promised, a pained tone to his voice, “dinnae mean tae.”

You doubted it was true; there was a darkness in the air despite the way your owner tried handling them.

He was let go off and the moment the prongs didn’t painfully dig into his skin, he was on you again, tongue on the indent he had left, his cock pressed into you again, his tail wagging.

“‘m sorry,” he barely managed to say in between his licks and moans, before his hands were back on you, his moaning louder, as he ignored your whines of slowing down. Your own hands grabbed onto his mohawk and ears, but the hybrid did nothing but moan even louder, moving his hips a little upwards and fuck - he hit the perfect spot, grinning like a feral hound when he noticed and heard your sounds.

You came against your will, crying out and spasming around him, his hands grabbing harder onto your thighs, claws teasing the skin.

He was panting and moaning like a hound, mounting you like there was nothing in his mind but the feeling of your cunt.

“Gonna fill ye up,” Soap promised, words barely escaping his mouth, drool dripping down on you; not like you cared, too gone yourself to really do so.

“DON'T knot her,” Price’s word cut through the air like a sharp knife, slicing into your mind; you wanted him to knot you, a part of you realized, no you needed him too - while another screamed in delight of not having to be stuck to him.

“Nnngh,” his hips were going so fast it almost hurt as they clashed against your skin, “please sir, please plea—“

“No.”

The hand that appeared made you shudder - and then a second later, Soap came, almost a guttural scream leaving him; you could feel Price’s fingers near your cock, stopping him from sliding his knot into you. 

“Later,” Price answered, then pulling Soap back by the collar and hair, your own hands slipping easily from him, “we don’t have the time to wait for all of you to knot her right now.”

The moment he was pulled away, you moved, whimpering and curling to the side, wincing as cum slid out from your pussy; it wasn’t John’s, you wanted it to be your owners. You barely had time to breathe before Nik released one of the others. Gaz pushed you onto your stomach - one hand on your neck to keep you down as you snarled.

“Wait,” you barked, ears tipping down “lemme breathe, for fucks sake—“

“Need you, puppy,” Gaz merely replied, grabbing onto your collar and tugging, his other hand pulling on your tail, ignoring your yelp, “gonna make it all okay again.”

“Nothing happened-“ you snarled, trying to make him let go, but you separately rose to your knees in order to levitate the pressure on your tail.

“Why did you smell like her then, huh?” He all but snarled, finally letting go of your collar, to push down his own pants, “stinking of her lust!”

You tried twisting to grip onto his ears to tug at them, hoping it would make him let go of you but he merely let go of you fully for a moment - your wrists were caught by his hands and he slammed them against the wooden floor.

“Be nice, собака,” Nik warned him, “I’m in no mood for broken bones.”

You barely heard him nor Gaz’ aggressive reply; you were too busy, having a realization. 

They were jealous ; you weren’t sure why it had taken you so fucking long to realize. The three mutts were jealous somebody else, somebody they didn’t know, had touched you and hadn’t you been so fucking upset, you might have laughed.

Instead, you felt a cock forcing its way into your cunt, making you howl in pleasure against your will; the slide was easier this time as Gaz fucked you, as you were already wet from the round with Soap - and now with his cum as well, Gaz fucked you almost smoothly. If not more aggressively than Soap had.

It didn’t take long before his teeth sank into your skin, the first two seconds it was nothing more than an extra grip, his cock roughly thrusting into you as if attempting to move your organs, his drool sliding along your skin, mixing with your sweat. His claws were digging into your skin slightly, but even more into the floor - while you were a mess, panting and attempting to growl in between your pathetic moans, barely able to see straight.

The pressure he bit you with changed quickly however and suddenly you were whining in pain, so loudly that you almost didn’t recognize your own voice.

Apparently Gaz had tried to bite Price in aggression over being ripped away from ‘his bitch’ as Nik called it, and you heard the harsh words and slaps, while you sank down a little, your tits pressed against the cold floor, your cunt empty. 

He was back as soon as he disappeared though, pulling you up again, only to almost instantly try to bite you again – halfway pulled away once more. You looked over your shoulder, seeing how the prong collar dug into his skin for a short moment until Price let go of him again.

The moment he was back, you turned however, using the moment to grab onto one of his long, dark ears and tug; it was almost a squeal that left Gaz and you heard both the hybrids bark and growl, Nik saying something – but it was the harsh spank from the leather leash that made you loosen your grip. 

“Behave, Princess,” John was squatting down next to you, strong hand on your pretty collar; it stood out so violently when compared to the others’ current prong collars, “or I’ll get you a collar too.”

“They’re mean!” you whimpered, giving him your best puppy eyes, before sending Gaz an angry look, as he was barely held back by John.

“Well you’re not quite playing nice either, eh?” There was a slight amusement in his voice but you didn’t get to comment on it, before he moved again.

Price gave Gaz more leash and the hybrid was instantly on you again, but this time Price didn’t let go of the metal ring in your own collar, keeping you in place, as if to remind you to behave; to remember he was right here, calling the shots.

“Yeah, Princess,” Gaz mocked, pushing into your cunt again with a moan, the movement in his hips exposing the fact that he was wagging his tail, “Behave.”

“Shut up!” you hissed angrily, a tug in the collar reminding you that Price was right there. 

Gaz’ hands were mostly on your hips - he nuzzled against your back and neck, licking your shoulders and in between your shoulder blades - he bit you a couple of times, but they were barely anything more than nips, a gentle tug on his collar reminding him to behave.

Then one of his hands moved, almost catching you off guard and making you whimper - it slid beneath your stomach, pawing at it for a moment, before it found its way to your cunt where the two of you were still connected, his thrusts still hard; he touched your clit without hesitation, snarling out words you could barely recognize. Mercilessly forcing you towards another orgasm.

Price let go of your collar and you let your head slumber down against the floor, wincing at the small pool of drool that had been created, hating how you pushed back against Gaz, the dual pleasure of his cock hitting that right spot and the fingers on your clit, so good you could barely breathe.

You barely heard Price’s command of not knotting you, from the mere tsunami of pleasure that overtook your body as you came, a howl that barely made any sound, snapping of your teeth and the pawing at the floor. You tightened around his cock, the knot having been so close, oh so close to being forced into your over oversensitive cunt - but then it was pulled out of you, almost making you sob.

Cum spurted on top of your lower back and ass cheeks, before Gaz willingly went - you could hear the almost instant sound of him and Soap making out with each other. And there was only one person back, which meant you had to go now.

A hand grabbed onto your ankle, dragging you backwards as you managed to crawl forwards a few steps - you turned around, back on the floor, raising your opposite leg to kick Ghost in the face, but the other hybrid caught it easily; grinning at you, almost feral-like, lust heavy in the air. Sometimes you forgot they had been in the military for so long.

Leather connected to your skin once more, this time on your raised thigh, a whine leaving you, your eyes flickering to look up at John who stood with the leash curled in his hand, ready to spank you with it once more.

“behave,” John hissed at you, while Ghost chuckled. Idiot.

You didn’t have much time to argue, Ghost letting go of your ankles, just to grab onto your thighs and pull you closer; he was kneeling, almost pulling you into his lap, that feral grin still there, fangs exposed.

He leant over you much quicker than you had anticipated, ignoring your growling and snapping with teeth - one hand resting next to your head, the other pulling down his boxers, pants already open.

Was his cock this big last time? It was like you couldn’t remember the last time right now, you could barely think, in fact, your mind was overwhelmed with so many things. Pleasure, oversensitivity, pain and anger - his dick seemed inhumanely long.

“Not so snappy now, huh?” he crooned, voice low, his free hand grabbing onto your plush thigh, fingers digging into the fat, ears tipped towards you as he spoke, “cockdumb already?”

“nnngh,” you tried pushing at his clothed chest, twisting in his grip, but it was no use; it was like the cock inside you kept you from doing anything. Somehow you managed a small “shutup” and that was enough to set Ghost going.

“Gonna teach you to not go whoring again,” Ghost snarled against your skin, tongue sloppily leaving a wet trail of spit over one of your bouncing tits, simply ignoring your hands trying to push his face out of the way, a plethora of moans and small yaps leaving you as he didn’t stop fucking you with that monster cock of his. You knew you were being watched, both by your owner and his boyfriend, as well as the two other hybrids, it only added to the humiliation of being turned on.

“Belong to us,” his words were barely audible as he growled them, the wet sounds and rustling of his clothes seeming to overtake it, “not her.”

“I won’t, won’t go, won–” you were barely aware of the words slipping from your lips, the volume rising as you felt his teeth scrape against a spot on your shoulder over your right breast, “nonon, please, I wont–”

“Ghost–” Price’s warning was stern, the little tug in the prong collar making him grumble, licking over the spot a couple of times - your eyes met. 

Ghost’s eyes almost seemed like they wanted to own you too; as if it was no longer John who you bowed to, but the pack that you didn’t want, on a farm you didn’t want to be. His thrusts quickened and then his eyelids lowered together with his head – biting down into your skin.

Despite his fast attempt at breaking your skin, mauling your flesh into his, Price was quicker – pulling him back by the collar. He held an extra grip on his hair and you managed to look up, see through the tears.

It was like there was a flood in your ears, Price looking mad, Ghost’s ears tipping backwards as he spoke.

Fighting to get some air into your lungs, you panted and tried wiggling free. Ghost’s fingers merely dug deeper into your plush thigh even though he was currently pulled back by the prong collar, the tips of his claws pressing against your skin as a warning.

The moment he let go, Ghost was back at it, staring down at you with a dark smile, grunts and small moans even leaving him. It took a couple of moments before Price let him have enough leash to bend down over you again and this time Ghost growled into your ears instead of your skin. Licking your furry ears while you whimpered at the feeling and the words.

They owned you; were going to breed you, use you, keep Valeria away, and do whatever they needed to keep you. You were theirs. The moment you let us, he had panted, we will love you.

There was an odd feeling in your stomach, almost as if you were going to piss yourself, but with no mercy from any of the men, one of your hands dug into his short hair and the other grabbed onto his shoulder as you screamed.

It had been a while since you squirted and it took you by surprise, just as it did the others. There were several barks, voices but then Ghost was fucking you even harder than before, bordering on painful, forcing his mouth against yours. You came a second time, this time not squirting but it almost felt more intense.

Ghost came just a moment later, perhaps caught by surprise himself, but he made sure not to knot you. 

The world was spinning around you. There were teardrops in your lashes as you squinted up at the hybrid, who was still pushed inside you. Price’s hand petting him shortly on the head before pulling him back.

There was speech but you barely noticed - then strong hands pulled you up into a lap. The overpowering scent of leather and oil told you who it was and despite your slight hate for Nik, your tail wagged as he pulled you into his arms, cooing at you.

“Such a strong puppy,” he praised, one of his hands drying away some of your drool, caressing your cheek as he sat on the floor with you on his lap, cum no doubt dripping onto his clothes, “you deserve treat for being so good, da?”

Compared to the first time you had met Nikolai, you didn’t want to bite his hand anymore - he clearly didn’t fear you doing so either. You snuggled into his hand, nodding as you squinted up at him, a  small “uh-huh” leaving you.

His hand disappeared and then there was a faint rustling of plastic - even without seeing it, you smelled it. It was that mouthwatering scent that made you weak in your knees that first time and your nose instantly sniffed, almost trying to sit up further to get a look of where it was - to get it before the boys did. Nikolai laughed, letting out a “there you go, milaya,” letting you grab the piece of jerky from his finger, instantly sinking your teeth into it with a pleased sigh. Your tail wagging a little again as you heard Soap whining over not getting a piece.

You even had to take a bath with them afterwards. Your life was officially over - you made sure to tell Price that, who just huffed and rolled his eyes. Sure, you weren’t the biggest fan of showers, but you wanted the cum off and you wanted a bath in the tub… alone. That was your thing.

“- ‘nd they’re gonna use up my shampoo and my conditioner -” you continued overdramatically as Nik carried you in front of John, the russian man merely snorting at your pitiful complaining. 

“We’ll buy more-” John tried to point out, but to no avail, life might as well be over for you right now.

“- ‘nd my brushes - all my nice brushes!”

“I will be sure tae use yers, Mo ghràdh,” Soap happily proclaimed, sending you a wink, fully naked as he was, his usual collar back on, small red marks on his neck from where the prongs had been, “I will use theim the wrong way. Just fer ye.”

Gaz snickered and even Ghost let out a chuckle.

“Jooohn,” you whined, only struggling a little as Nik sat you down in the tub, the water already nice and warm, your poor body having needed this, “I’m gonna need new brushes.”

“I doubt that, Princess,” he cooed, petting your hair, “Now who wants to join in th–”

Soap was in the tub, sliding in behind you before John could even finish his question, happily ignoring your pout and growl.

“Dinnae be like that,” he crooned, “where is yer special shampoo?”

This day had been awful.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Princess.”

You almost jumped as the voice called for you and you turned, squinting slightly in suspicion at the sight. Gaz stood in the doorway, all calmly, looking at you, playing a little with his gloves. He didn’t look aggressive and didn’t smell turned on; in fact, he looked pretty harmless, his tail wagging ever so slightly, ears turning towards you and an almost shy smile.

“What?” you asked, sitting up in the dog bed, crossing your arms, not caring about sounding nice, looking him over for a moment before adding, “you’re dragging in mud.”

He looked down at his shoes, letting out a little ‘oh’. They weren’t really supposed to be in here, so you didn’t really understand why Gaz stood there. You didn’t really care either.

The other might be beautiful, but he was still not one of your favorite people. 

“I - want to show you something,” he finally said, one of his charming smile appearing, though it was a little more careful this time, “Soap said you would probably like it.”

“What is it?” You didn’t sound too impressed.

“It's a surprise,” he smiled a little more.

“If it's your knots, then you can–”

“Jeez,” he rolled his eyes, as if they weren’t fucking you silly on the livingroom floor the other day, “it’s not. Nothing like that.”

“Promise?”

“I do,” he answered, wagging a little more than before, “Swear on my tail.”

"Hm. Where is it?”

“In the barn.”

You scrunched your nose at the mention of the barn, the idea of being stamped to death by a horse already scaring you.

“It’s nothing scary - I wouldn’t bring you if it was.”

You let out a sigh, before getting up - he went to the hallway again and you followed, stealing one of John’s jackets as well as a pair of his boots, before following Gaz outside. 

“Some air would do you good once in a while, ya’ know,” Gaz said after a few moments, “we’re not that bad all of the time, Princess.”

You huffed, wondering for a moment if you should just turn around and go back. “You haven’t really proved me otherwise.”

He let out a hum that almost sounded agreeable but opened one of the doors to the barn, ushering you inside.

“It’s all good, I promise,” he said once more and you reminded yourself, that if he tricked you, you were going to snap off his tail. Pretty as it was.

He steered you to a booth where you noticed the heat lamp at first, more than anything else - but then you saw them, letting out a little gasp.

Tiny baby goats, all snuggled together in the hay beneath the lamp. A few of the mothers stood nearby and one of them came to the door of the booth, sniffing at Gaz’ hand, before letting out a bleat - then turning around again.

“They’re adorable,” you whispered, looking back at the babies, some of them looking at you, others sleeping with no worries in the world. 

“Aren’t they?” Gaz asked with a smile, “They were born yesterday night. Come.”

You let out a scared sound as Gaz opened the door to the booth.

“Won’t the mothers attack us?” you didn’t like how Gaz chuckled to your genuine, fearful question but he shook his head.

“Nah, me ‘nd the others hang out with the animals all the time.” He explained, petting one of the mothers who came to greet him for a moment.

It was cute. You had to admit that, even with your limited love of the farm animals.

“But I don’t.” you pointed out, still standing in the door of the booth, afraid to step into the hay and join the other as he sat down next to the baby goats.

“No, but the mothers know I won’t let a predator near,” he explained gently, “Not at daytime and not during the night.”

“Oh.”

There was something special over this that you could not explain. You didn’t want to explain it. You sat down next to Gaz as he patted the spot, still a little unsure about the momma goats - but none of them battered an eye as Gaz took your hand and made you gently pet one of the babies.

“They’re so tiny,” you whispered, almost to yourself, for once not hating or fearing Gaz. At least for right now, you were just in a moment together with him, doing something that you hadn’t expected would be that nice.

[coco-loco-nut]

Barnstormer

pairing: charles x reader

summary: charles can’t help but to fall for your small town charm

a/n: so @vitalverstappen and I have been grinding on this prompt for a while (i sent the jumble of ideas to V.V. after this being in my drafts for a few months). read the sister story linked at the end!

masterlist requests open

——————————

Once again, you are in your home country to race, only this time it’s in Austin. You spent the break on your family’s ranch back in Montana, riding your horse and reconnecting with nature. You always joked that you are the racing version of Hannah Montana.

“Y/n, it must be nice to be back home. You certainly look the part,” Laura starts your interview with F1TV.

“Ah, well Austin is much different than Montana. Two different types of cowboy, I’d say,” you are dressed like you just came from the stable. Boots, jeans, hoodie, hair in a braid, and your hat. A quick look says you aren’t a driver.

“How so?”

“Well, they like the spice down here much more, and I’d say that we are much more equipped to deal with snow. One thing I do know is that we both love a good rodeo,” you feel your hat be removed from you head as you speak. Turning to your left, you see Charles put it on his head.

“Yee haw, little lady,” Charles does what might be the worst Texas accent you’ve ever heard.

“Charles Leclerc, you did not just grab my cap by the brim. I don’t think you know what you just did,” you take your hat back, by grabbing the crown - you aren’t an animal, holding it at your side as to not make fans think anything of it.

“Well, I’ll let you sort that out,” Laura turns to the camera. “Stay tuned for an exclusive interview with Y/n and Liam Lawson as we discuss being rookies, Lightning McQueen, and more,” Laura says, letting the camera cut away.

“Sorry we couldn’t get more of an interview, I gotta explain cowboy culture to Charles,” you cringe, pulling the Ferrari boys away. Charles listens as you ramble about how it’s rude to touch a hat, then straw versus felt and why despite it being past labor day you are wearing straw, and finally that his act of taking your hat could be seen as a sign of flirting. You reach the Alpine home and quickly dart inside.

“Mate, I don’t think she got it,” Carlos shakes his head as Charles groans.

“I’ve been trying all season, she just isn’t getting it,” Charles whines, sure you will never pick up on his flirting.

That night you take the boys to a bar just outside Austin that some friends back home recommended, they said it was where a lot of rodeo cowboys go. It does not disappoint, the neon offsetting the wood with Tim McGraw crooning on the speakers. You practically run to the bar to order your favorite cheap beer.

“Some of my friends said this is the best bar in town,” you yell over the music.

“Logan? He was your childhood best friend right?” Franco says, hoping that he got it right.

“Logan? No, although he is my friend. You really don’t know how far Montana is from here and Miami, huh,” you swig your beer before narrowing your eyes at the Argentinian. “Are you even old enough to be here? How did you get in?”

“Franco is 21, barely, but he is,” Alex says, a little put off by the place. Most of them did try to fit in, but everyone in the bar can tell they are tourists based off them wearing felt hats when it’s blistering hot outside.

“Oh, they have a bull,” your eyes light up as you quickly make your way to the mechanical animal. You don’t care if it’s embarrassing for you or the guys, you want to see them fall off.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Max asks, wary of the old machine.

“Sure, that’s what makes it fun. Why don’t you go first?” Your eyes challenge Max as a small crowd watches on, interested at the goings of your group.

“I, uh,” it doesn’t take you more than a second to realize that the boys are scared. You square your shoulders, finishing off your beer.

“Alright, but you’re missing out, it’s mighty fun,” you shrug, taking your hat off and setting it upside down on a table beside the operator. You hand him cash as you step onto the worn blue mats, eyeing up your worn, red competitor.

“Don’t you think this is a bad idea? I don’t want to explain to the team how you got hurt,” Pierre’s panic is evident even as the guys pull out their phones to film.

“Yeah no, I learned from the best. My hometown best friend is a champion rider,” you expertly mount the mechanical bull, unphased as it starts bucking. You hang on much longer than the boys would’ve, and when you feel yourself be about to get thrown off, you dismount with a flourish.

The guys are speechless beyond cheering for you as you put your hat on, heading back to the bar for another beer. Men tip their caps to you and you blush, a little overwhelmed by the attention.

Charles knows enough to know that you put on a show and have the interest of even more guys now. It doesn’t help that your boots and shorts show off your legs just right, and the tee you chose fits perfectly. Your hat adds a layer of mystery as it helps hide your eyes, but not your beautifully curled hair.

You don’t do much the rest of the night other than drink the guys into a hole, get violently drunk, and stand on a table singing Dolly Parton.

You pull up to the paddock the next day wearing a college football jersey, the school you’ve supported since you were a young kid.

“Texas or Georgia?” someone yells at you and you can’t help but step back in disgust.

“Neither, I’d rather die,” you yell back, despite not having a team in the SEC.

“How are you alive and still manage to look good,” Franco groans, walking beside you.

“Sheer will, and a bit of my mama’s secret recipe,” you grin.

“How does he do it?” Charles asks Max, watching Franco effortlessly flirt with you, even though Franco doesn’t realize he’s flirting.

“No idea. Have you talked to Mick, he’s pretty close with her. Maybe he has an idea,” Max shrugs.

“Mick? Like Mick Schumacher?”

“Yeah, they karted together. You could also just talk to her,” Max suggests, pushing his friend in your direction.

“So you are actually a cowgirl?” Charles asks you once Franco drops back to yap with Max.

“Yeah, my parents have a working ranch. I help out when I can, since they helped find people to house and train me throughout my career,” you smile.

“That’s so cool. You have your own horse too, right?”

“Yeah, do you want to see him? He’s a feral mustang that we domesticated, I’m thinking of breeding him with a quarter horse soon,” you pull up photos as Charles tries to understand everything you said.

“What a pretty rider,” Charles hopes you might pick up on an obvious flirt.

“Thanks,” the compliment barely registers in your mind.

“Maybe you could teach me how to ride sometime,”

“Oh, I was going to have Mick, Pierre, and Logan come up after Brazil. You should come too, hopefully we will beat the snow. There’s already been some, but if you bundle up you will be fine,” your smile melts Charles’s brain.

“Snow? Already?” Charles can’t imagine it, it hasn’t even been Halloween.

“Oh yeah, nothing like a warm cider and a fireplace though,” Charles can hear your accent come through.

“So are they dating?” Franco asks, observing how close you and Charles are standing.

“No.”

“But he likes her?”

“Yes.”

“And she likes him?”

“Hard to say,” Max shrugs.

“I am so confused,” Franco stares at you and Charles, it’s obvious you both like each other.

“Me too,” Carlos agrees, having come to retrieve Charles when he overheard Franco’s conversation with Max.

“Y/n is a smart woman, but she certainly cannot pick up on flirting,” Max shakes his head, walking off.

Charles did join you at your ranch before Las Vegas, with strict orders from his trainer on how to keep up with his training. Charles wasn’t expecting a whole complex of barns and houses. You could almost call it an operation.

They were all shoved in the back of your pickup, luggage safe on the bed of the truck, as you and a ranch hand chat in the front of the car.

“You boys are lucky there’s room in the main house during your stay,” the ranch hand had joked. Because the group arrived so late, it’s straight to bed for everyone. Everyone except you.

Charles is restless, and despite his better judgment, gets out of bed for a change of scenery. He walks into the living room, looking at family photos, school yearbook photos, and pictures of your races. Some of your first trophies are proudly displayed above the fireplace, as well as a picture from your first time in the points in F1. He takes in everything, it’s clear how proud your parents are of you.

Charles finds you on the porch, with a steaming mug and quilt thrown over your legs. You are staring at the sky, not really paying attention. He’s freezing, wearing more layers than you, but he sits beside you anyway. You hand him a spare quilt, which he thanks you for.

“It’s nice, to slow down out here, the open skies and quiet,” you break the calm silence.

“It seems busy around here,”

“You have to be. It’s a hard business, no days off. I’m lucky that we are a larger ranch and my family can afford things like my career. Most of my friends stay and work full time, some work for us now. The guys out there are just going in for the night to the bunk houses, they will be up at dawn ready to work,” you explain. Charles was right in that this is a business, and a large one.

“Makes me feel bad that we are here on a break then,” Charles rubs the back of his neck.

“Don’t be. Plenty of ranches book out guest houses for tourism, it’s good income. Plus, you are here as my guest. The town will love to meet new people,” you reassure him, reaching to pat his hand.

“So, I guess you really don’t know every city that we visit?” Charles grins. None of the drivers ever bothered to look up where you are from, so they joke that you know Miami, Austin, and Las Vegas like they are your home town. However, they’ve been taking it more seriously as of late.

“No,” you whisper, a hint of a smile on your face as you watch the snow fall. You find yourself tucked under Charles’ arm before you bid him goodnight, going to bed.

You are up early, eating breakfast with your family.

“What’s your plan for the day?” your mother asks as you help clear the table.

“I think a trail ride then go into town, I don’t want to impose too much, but I’ll probably show them around,” you say, thinking of a schedule.

“Why don’t you do a late lunch in town? I have some things for you to pick up,” you agree with her idea.

“Go ahead, Mama, I’ll clean up,” you say, knowing there is administrative work to do.

The boys meander down about an hour later as you are finishing baking a bread you started yesterday.

“Morning boys,” you wipe your hands as they stand cluelessly in the kitchen. “Take a seat, I’ll whip you up something quick,” you motion to the kitchen table as you head to the fridge.

“Do you need help?” Logan asks, but your look quickly tells him to shut up.

“Coffee’s in the pot if you want some, milk in the fridge, food will be ready in a few minutes,” you wave the offer off.

“What’s your plan for today?” Mick asks, quickly taking to the coffee.

“I’ll take you on a trail ride and tour around some of the ranch, then we will go into town and grab lunch. After dinner we can go to the bar if it isn’t too bad out,” you look out the window, most of the snow has melted off already, but you can never be too careful. The boys quickly eat what you serve them and you take them out to the barn.

“Need help?” Charles asks as you blanket and saddle four horses, one he recognizes as yours. It’s impressive, watching you easily sling the heavy saddles on.

“Hold these, stand still,” you hand him the reigns, making sure he is in a safe position.

“Are you wearing chaps?” Mick notices the tan leather covering your jeans.

“Yes, and you all should too. You will thank me later when the wind isn’t biting at your legs. We should have some extras, hang on,” you grab a few pairs and tell the boys how to wear them.

“This is quite fashionable, I should’ve worn them in Austin,” Charles twists his legs, looking at the western wear. You just shake your head and continue getting the saddles ready.

“This is weirder than I thought,” Logan says, a little uncomfortable in the gear as you help him mount the horse.

“Sit up straighter, and widen your legs a little,” you fix his feet as you speak, adjusting the saddle and stirrups. You help each of them mount the horses you saddled before mounting your own horse.

You start with the tour before the trail ride, and the boys are feeling a little sore from the trotting as they dismount.

“I’m impressed your hat stayed on,” Mick says as he feels his muscles ache.

“That’s the point of a proper fitting hat. You can tell your trainers you had your workout for the day. Come on,” you make them follow you to the truck. As you get into town, you get stopped every other minute, being asked how you are and who your friends are. The boys look around the small store as you pick up your mother’s order.

“You and your boyfriend make quite the handsome couple,” the clerk, a church friend of your mother, says. She observes your startled face and smiles. “The one with brown hair, he seems very protective of you,” you look at Charles and catch his eye, causing both of you to look away with a blush.

“We aren’t dating, he’s a friend that I race with. They all are,” you deny, but you can’t help but wonder why your heart skipped a beat at the accusation.

“Sure honey, but you should see the way that boy looks at you,” you take the package, mind spinning.

“Thank you, Mrs. Anderson,” your voice is quieter as she pats your hand.

“You take care now, don’t forget about your roots when you become a big star,”

“I’ll dedicate my first win to you all,” you smile, taking a step away from the old oak counter.

“Good girl. Watch out on the roads tonight,”

“Yes, Ma’am,” when you approach the guys you notice how you and Charles naturally gravitate towards each other, but you are quick to distract yourself before you think too much about it.

“Everything alright?” Mick asks, poking your head. You swat away his hand as he goes to poke you again. Logan and Charles are trailing you, talking about something that you couldn’t care less about.

“Yeah, just thinking about something the shop owner said,”

“That Charles likes you?” Mick says, you huff and walk a little faster.

“He doesn’t though, Mickie. We are just friends, he’s never even flirted with me. Besides, I don’t even like him like that, and I would NEVER date someone on the grid,” lies, well mostly. The grid part is pretty true, that’s a mess you don’t wasn’t to touch. Mick can read you like a book, he’s your best friend and basically your brother. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you into a side hug as you walk.

“He flirts with you endlessly, you are just too blind to see it. Meine Liebe, he is so in love with you that he would crash someone out for you,” Mick looks at you, watching the gears in your brain turn.

“Well, if he is flirting with me that much, he really needs to step up his game,” you look at the sky, then to Mick.

“It’s a shame you are basically my brother, why can’t we date?” you groan, Mick loudly laughs.

“Alpine would hate that, can’t have two of their drivers dating,” Mick lowers his arm, poking your side.

“They are separating us, but our love shall prevail,” you carry on, enjoying the antics.

“Even Mick flirts with her easier than me,” Charles groans, looking at Logan for backup.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but they are literally the definition of siblings separated at birth. They joke like that all the time, he’s just her best friend,” Logan shakes his head.

“So there’s a chance?”

“Not with your flirting,” Logan pats Charles’s shoulder as they approach your truck.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, there is a storm coming,” you turn the key in the ignition, watching the boys get in the truck. Logan calls shotgun, leaving Charles and Mick in the back.

“Who let dying cats sing?” Mick teases you and Logan as you sing along with a country song, earning him the bird from both of you.

“Alright boys, wash up and then be down here for dinner. We won’t wait for you,” you say as you park the truck. Charles grabs the package for you, carrying it inside.

“I’ll take that, son,” your dad grabs the package from Charles as you walk through the door. “Y/n,” you follow his beacon, leaving the boys alone.

“Well, I will see you all in a bit,” Mick heads to his room, it’s obvious that he’s visited before.

Much to Charles’s dismay, he makes no progress on the flirting end for the rest of the week. When you get to Las Vegas, you are swept up in media and team duties. Charles sees more of Pierre than he does of you that weekend. He does notice when you post on Instagram.

instagram

y/username brought the boys home with me, still wouldn’t call them cowboys

mickschumacher to be fair, Logan and I fit in pretty well, Charles though…

charlesleclerc hey!

y/username charlie… you still don’t know how to wear a hat correctly

alpinef1team we 🫶 our cowgirl (and Cowboy Mick)

mercedesamgf1 our* Cowboy Mick 🤠

scuderiaferrari it’s okay Charles, even if you aren’t a cowboy, we still love you (Mick was ours first, back off)

charlesleclerc hey! you are supposed to be on my side

mickschumacher love the support guys 💙🩵❤️

user29 the shared admin parenting 😭

y/username charlie, it’s okay, not everyone is cowboy material

user aww, she brought Logan with her. best former grid friendship

user4 so we are ignoring the part where she got them all to wear chaps?

logansargeant you hear that mick? i’m better than you

mickschumacher impossible, i’m literally her best friend

y/username and they looked wonderful in them 🥰 (i love you two equally)

user2 poor charles, always forgotten even if they weren’t friends until recently

charlesleclerc best cowgirl and teacher in Montana ❤️

y/username only Montana? i’m wounded, you’re uninvited from the next trip

Mick hung around, pulling double duty for Mercedes and Alpine. He watched the race from the Mercedes garage, a tense place to be during the race. The Mercedes team qualified poorly in Q3, leaving them in the midfield. Logan accompanied him, an odd sight for most fans.

You had qualified well, with you and Pierre in P6 and P7 respectively. A crash up front took out Max and Lando, leaving the two of you in a battle with Oscar, Charles, and Carlos. A late safety car and a well timed undercut allowed you to move into P2, fighting for the win with Pierre right behind you. With five laps left to go, you find luck on your side once more. Oscar locked up, giving you just enough room to overtake him. When you cross the line five laps later, you feel tears running down your face.

“We did it, holy shit! Great work team, I’m so proud of you guys. This win is for the huge support network I have back home - I told you I’d dedicate my first win to you, and it’s for this team who has struggled and fought to be in the position to win races again,” you say on the radio as you take your cool down lap, waving to fans as you drive past.

The feeling of standing on top of your car is like nothing else, the crowd electric with you first win, a home win.

Pierre pulls into P3, quickly hoping out to embrace you, rubbing your helmet.

“We did it! You are amazing!” Pierre cheers.

“Finally a podium for us,” you agree, joining Pierre in heading to the barricades to celebrate with the team.

Charles makes his way to where you are putting on your team hat and sipping water a few minutes later.

“Welcome to the home win club,” he hugs you, wishing he was on the podium too.

“Thanks, Charlie. Sorry, I’m just so overwhelmed,” you smile but tears start to flow out of your eyes again. This is likely the only win you will ever get, and you know that.

“Amour,” his voice is soft and sympathetic as he wipes the tears off your cheeks. “You deserve every bit of this win, you drove so well,” he reassures you as you nod, sniffing the tears away.

“Interview time, champ,” Pierre grabs you, pulling you towards Guenther. He quickly shoots Charles a look that says he’s talking about this later. Pierre is protective of his teammate, and he isn’t scared to rip into his childhood friend if needed. You watch Pierre speak, then Oscar, before it’s your turn. They wait for you, not wanting to leave you vulnerable to the media.

“Y/n, first off, congratulations on a monumental win. How are you feeling?” Guenther asks, his voice jovial. He watched you grow as a driver in the Ferrari program, so he feels a bit proud.

“Overwhelmed, mainly,” you laugh, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “I, uh, carry the legacy of many women before me, those who drove, served as test and reserve drivers, and affiliated drivers. I really hope this win made them proud and make the girls driving in lower formulas know they can succeed here too,” you say, still breathing a bit heavier.

“That was one heck of a drive, how were you able to take the win?”

“A lot of luck, and confidence. I knew that I had to take some risks, especially on that overtake and defending the last few laps. I’m glad that Max and Lando are okay, those collisions aren’t fun,”

“One more question and then I will let you get your trophy. How will you take this confidence into the last two races?”

“Just keeping the energy up with the whole team. They’ve worked hard to get Pierre and I on the podium, and it’s nice to see it pay off, especially at my home race. You never really know when you will get to the podium, so I think we will just cherish this and hope the points keep coming,” you say, relieved to be done with interviews for now.

“Thank you, congratulations again,” Guenther says, letting you go. You give a wave and disappear to where Pierre and Oscar await.

“An all Alpine podium,” Mick teases, waiting around the bend for you.

“Former, but I guess it counts,” Oscar smiles as you launch yourself at your best friend.

“I’m so proud, meine Liebe, and I know Dad is too,” he hugs you tightly. Mick lets you go a moment later, promising to see you after the podium.

The cooldown room is nice, you relax in the chair as Oscar and Pierre chatter, watching the race highlights.

“Nice defending, you were a brick wall against Charles,” you fist bump Pierre.

“Ready?” Oscar asks, dragging you out of your seat. Pierre is the first out and onto the podium. “Just breathe, this is your moment,” Oscar reminds you before stepping out. Before you know it you are being drenched in champagne.

“This is just the start of the celebrations, mon amie,” Pierre says, wrapping an arm around you as you head back to the motorhome.

“Drinks on me tonight,” you cheer, ready to shower off the champagne and get media over with.

You are one of the last to arrive at the club, mostly because your phone died and you had to wait on it to charge. However, that just means you had more time to pregame, and you did.

“Oscar!” you drunkenly cheer, wrapping your arms around the Aussie.

“When did you get here? Are you already drunk?” he asks, trying not to laugh.

“Mhmm,” you nod, “I drank with Logan,”

“Logan is here?!” Oscar looks around the room, trying to spot his friend.

“No, silly, he’s in Miami. He was on the phone, duh,” you walk towards the bar, ordering a round of shots for your friends and you. You don’t hesitate in downing it, ordering a drink to take with you back onto the floor.

“How much have you had to drink?” Franco asks, wrapping an arm around you to keep you steady.

“Mmmm, five shots,” you giggle then poke his cheek, pushing his face a bit due to your sloppy motions. “You’re cute, just a babbyyy,”

“You are very pretty as well, how’d you know I have a thing for older women,” Franco flushes, the flirting coming out of nowhere. He honestly thought that you and Charles were dating, but he can’t help that he’s a natural flirt.

“Pierre! George!” you walk away before he can even process everything. You are off to do more shots, intending to get fucked up.

“You okay?” Max asks, quickly replacing you at Franco’s side.

“Y/n was just here, she’s an odd drunk, can she even drink that much?” Franco asks, very confused.

“She brought Tennessee moonshine to a race last year and she out drank Valtteri. I didn’t realize she’s been here,” Max looks around, searching for you.

“Whatever she drank earlier was strong then. Aren’t she and Charles dating? Why was she flirting with me?”

“Who knows,” Max shrugs, leaving Franco confused and alone as he spots you back at the bar in the VIP section the drivers reserved.

“You are cut off for now,” Max shakes his head as he stands beside you, taking the drink from your hand and keeping it for himself.

“Charlie! Tell Max to give me my drink back,” you pout, crossing your arms as you lean back against the bar, stumbling a little as your back hits the edge.

Charles’s eyes rake across you in concern as he quickly reaches out to steady you. He looks away at Max to get a silent read on the situation.

“Amour, how much have you had to drink? Didn’t you just get here?” Charles is more worried that you may have been drugged, no one acts like that after one drink.

“Five shots,” Charles watches you count on your fingers, holding up seven of them.

“And here?”

“Um, three shots and a drink. I just got here fourty minutes ago,” your words slur together as dizzying lights flash around the bar. The change in music tells everyone that Lando got behind the DJ booth.

“You are cut off for the hour, go dance some of it off then I will buy you a new drink,” Max says, winking at Charles. Before he can respond, you are dragging Charles onto the dance floor.

“You are a terrible flirt. You know who told me that you like me? Mickie,” you poke Charles’ chest as you dance close to him. Charles wraps his arms around your waist, keeping you close but providing support.

“It must’ve worked if you know now,” Charles leans down slightly, voice low against the pulsing music. You tilt your head up more, looking at him through hooded eyes, his body moving against yours as the bass builds up.

“No,” you say, lips centimeters away from brushing against his as the beat drops. “You need to work harder to earn me,” you slip out of his arms, going to find your aforementioned friend, leaving Charles alone and horny.

You find yourself back at the bar, no one there to stop you from drinking more. Well, that is until Mick shows up right before the bartender walks back over to you.

“Let’s celebrate the win, if you drink any more right now you will puke in 10 minutes,” Mick pulls you away, back to the other drivers. Fuck Charles, the bar is your one true love and Mick is denying you it.

“Here,” Lewis hands you a drink which you happily take. It’s just a mocktail, but you don’t know that.

“To our cowgirl and her first win!” Carlos toasts, cheers ringing out across your group. You catch Lando sneaking away back to the DJ booth, and you quickly follow.

“Lando, let me play a song,” you beg, and who is Lando to deny you after your first win? The grid gravitates towards the two of you as Lando helps you set yourself up.

“What are you playing?” Lando yells as you quickly pull up your song. Your devilish grin tells him everything as he helps you blend it into the song currently playing. The song slows as a low “tu tu tu tu” rings out, the lights turning in to focus on Max.

“Is this because I took away your drink?” Max yells, embarrassed and a little annoyed even though he thinks it’s funny. The rest of the guys are singing along, teasing Max. That’s the last thing you remember.

You wake up groggy on the couch of your hotel room, Mick in the bed. Based on the weird feeling in your mouth, you were puking before you fell asleep. Stumbling, you cross the room and crawl into bed beside Mick.

Mick wakes you up a few hours later, cup of coffee in hand.

“How much do you remember of last night?” he asks as you lightly groan, launching into your past memories.

You virtually sit down for a podcast later in the week to discuss your win.

“How does it feel going viral?” The one podcaster asks after you discussed your career and fighting in the midfield.

“Viral? Honestly, I’ve been so busy since the win that I haven’t been on social media,” you laugh, very confused.

“Gen Z has taken to you, you are all over TikTok and Twitter,”

“That’s wild, thanks Gen Z,” you smile, giving the camera a little salute.

“The after party seemed fun,”

“From what I remember, it was. It’s always a good time going out with the guys. Can I confess something?”

“Please do,” the podcaster says, eager for some gossip.

“I thought Franco was too young to be out with us. The first time he showed at the bar in Austin, I genuinely thought he was about to be thrown out,” you say, letting the conversation stay of that for a bit.

“So, a photo of you and Charles dancing at the club after your win went viral. We asked him about it and this is what he had to say,”

“Oh yeah, we’re dating, didn’t you know?” Charles says, looking quite serious, but you know it’s a joke, at least you think it is.

“Haha, yeah we are engaged, almost got married in Vegas. Didn’t you know?” you joke, stifling a laugh.

The podcast blew up and Alpine ate it up. The media team was quick to partner with Ferrari to do a couples challenge in the Alpine motorhome. You quickly leave once it’s done, escaping to your driver’s room. Charles follows you, sitting beside you as you take a deep breath.

“Sorry, it’s all a bit overwhelming. I am from a small town, I’m just not used to this type of attention,” you say and Charles holds your hands, providing comfort as electricity courses through you.

“You don’t have to be. Your fans think you are perfect, I think you are perfect,” Charles says, your eyes meeting his, searching for signs that he isn’t telling a lie.

“You do?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been in love with you forever. You are beautiful, and kind, and smart,” Charles trails off as his eyes flicker to your lips. His right hand finds itself moving from your hand to your cheek. He leans in, lips brushing yours as he hesitates - waiting for you to take action.

You tilt your head up, mind spinning as you take in his scent and the moment. You don’t waste another moment, pressing your lips to his. Charles tenderly pulls away after a minute, resting his forehead on yours.

“I didn’t lie in that interview, amour, you are my cowgirl,” he says softly, a hint of relief in his voice.

“Yours? Oh no, Charlie, you will have to work harder to win that,” your sly smile tells him that the challenge isn’t over yet as he leans in to kiss you again.

“My stubborn, stubborn cowgirl,”

Can’t get enough? Check out @vitalverstappen’s sister story ⬇️!

[lovdlydaz]

❝ TOUCH ME WHERE YOU NEED TO, I CAN GIVE YOU MORE. ❞

loser!choi soobin x black!afab!reader

poor soobin, always been tortured and bullied at school just for being different and caring about his grades. but, need not worry, as you, his lovely best friend, show him things he would only ever dream about.

warnings: virgin!soobin, pervy!soobin, switch!reader, subby soobie, p in v, unprotected sex, m!masturbation, butt loads of praise, little tidbits of degradation, pet names, mommy kink, big dick soobin, js soobin being a little wimp enjoy

a/n: sorry for being so absent y'all, a lot has happened over these past months and i've been on and off in this community. i will try my hardest to get back in full swing since it is summer for me, but it isn't a promised guarantee. however, i will be writing more content for both k-pop and anime, since both are very prevalent in my headspace rn. but subby stupid loser soobin has been rotting in my mind for so long i just had to write about it, so please enjoy this as much as i most definitely did. love y'all, enjoy!!

it was never a quiet day in soobin's life, having to deal with all sorts of things from his work being shoved off his desk to food being thrown at him during lunch hours. this was his senior year of college and, by now, these childish adults should be over this phase right? but, sadly, since he had told people that he thought were his friends that he hadn't been laid ever in his life, they told the entire school and now every person that he comes in contact with either tries to seduce him or make fun of him because of this fact.

but not you, you were different.

soobin had always taken a liking to you, being his roommate and the one person that he could be himself with. he didn't have to make up a persona or have to be this way in order to be accepted, no, you liked and had in common some stuff that he liked, like anime and DnD. he was more than grateful that you didn't torment him like half of the school did, and that you were a pure soul that could do no wrong.

he followed you like a puppy ever since you two met, which you didn't mind but it sort of gave you scary dog privileges. every time you went to the store, he was right besides you with his headphones around his neck and hands in his pockets. no guys would try to mess with you since your 6'1 guy best friend looked like he could kill someone, but he would never.

he would wander off in parts of the store and come back with different manga/funko pops he would find of his favorite anime characters, begging you to buy them for him since he didn't have a stable job nor stable money. you were kind enough to buy it for him and watch him add it to his collection of funko pops on his shelf filled with manga and figurines and all sorts of other things. you watched as he happily organized his collection, giggling like a little girl as he stacked jujutsu kaisen volumes together like a jenga puzzle.

everything he did, you found adorable and innocent. however, he was far from it.

while you were asleep, he would crawl into your room and go through your dirty laundry, grabbing your freshly used underwear and crawling back to his room with them. he would hold them until his nose as he jerked off, moaning your name as he orgasmed right on them. of course he would wash them and put them back in your drawer without you noticing, but you never seemed to wake up despite all of that.

soobin never felt guilty about it either, since that was the closest thing to sex that he would ever get, that he thought of.

one day, you two were walking to the mall, your hair bouncing with your steps due to your letting your curls out in a controlled afro. he watched your smaller form move with your little pink skirt with your pink clothes and nice pink accessories. you had a bit of a bimbo aesthetic, not really so but you dressed in girly colors and girly clothes, never giving a care in the world what others had to say.

you were going to the store to go to a store that soobin specifically wanted to go to. it was a clothing store that also had some mangas in the back of them, but this time he didn't go for the mangas. instead, he wanted to go to the men's section to see what clothes he could get, since he had been wearing the same 5 hoodies ever since his freshman year. you went over with him of course, since you had fashion sense that he had no clue of what that even meant.

he looked at a shirt that had some cool little cartoon designs on it, along with some baggy jeans that had stars on them. he turned to you and held them out, your eyes lighting up and nodding at him for approval. "yes soobie! that fit is so hard," you giggled, soobin smiling at your excitement but he was heading to the changing room. you followed behind him, watching him as he went into the men's room.

he came out in the outfit and it looked so good on him, a little too good in fact. it had your eyes raise in shock and you biting your lip, his whole aesthetic was coming together nicely and it had you feeling things you thought you wouldn't feel for a while. especially for your best friend since freshman year, which was probably why and how these feelings developed overtime.

you chewed your lip as he walked up to you, holding his arms out and looking down at you. "you really do like it?" he asked, pushing his hair out of his face so he could see your face better. "y... yes! yes i do like it choi. it looks really good on you," you softly spoke, making him raise an eyebrow in confusion but he didn't think much of it. he just shrugged and went back to the changing room, getting his regular clothes on and taking the store clothes off.

after that, the whole day was filled with soobin using pinterest as his inspiration to find the coolest outfits that fit his aesthetic. you were happy he was finally starting to gain some confidence in his clothes, the outfits getting from baggy to tight to baggier to tighter. he had a good body so each outfit fit him perfectly, and you enjoyed the tighter outfits better than the baggy ones.

it was starting to get dark outside, so that was when you decided it was time to leave. you grabbed all of your shopping bags (you and soobin's), before the taller man stopped you. "oh y/n, you don't have to carry all the bags. let me do it," and he did. he grabbed all the bags out of your hands with no struggle, walking them to your car and putting them in the back. you smiled and followed after him, loving how kind he was towards you.

it was a nice drive home and you were enjoying his company, even though he was yapping to you about the newest episode of mha that had just came out that day. he had watched it before you two had left and it was plaguing his mind the whole time. he was so excited about it, even though he had the entire manga on his bookshelf that he read about 10 times in the span of 2 years. you didn't mind it however, since he was so cute when he was excited.

once you two got back to the dorms he took all the bags up the stairs and into your shared rooms, you right behind him and opening the door for him since his hands were very full. he walked in and dropped the bags down on the couch, turning around to see you closing the door behind him and locking it. he smiled as he made his way over to the kitchen, immediately going to the fridge since he was a bit hungry from all the escapades you both had went on.

you had decided to cook for the evening, letting him have time to grab all the bags and put them in your respective rooms. he realized how much you really spent on him and yourself, and he was just wondering how in the hell you had so much money. but, then he remembered that you did have a super rich family, and you were very smart so the school was paying you on a full academic scholarship. he was more than grateful though, so he would do something in order to make it up to you.

he would just have to think about it.

even though soobin was a loser and unemployed, he promised that he would still try to get you something special. just because you were his best friend didn't mean that he couldn't treat you nicely. so, he went to a store that you absolutely loved, a makeup store at that, and bought an item that you had wanted but it was out of stock when you both had went the other day. he also purchased a little bag with some stuffing paper, making it a nice little gift with a card inside.

he set it down on your bed when you were at class, since he didn't have class today. and since he didn't have class, he was going to cook for when you got home.

it took a lot of trials and tribulations in order to make a meal that he assumed would remind you of your home back in america, so it was a standard american meal. chicken tenders with fries and some fruit punch on the side. he made the chicken tenders from scratch and used some seasonings that you had brought from your home back there to use in the food. he knew that you were going to love this, and he was all the way right.

as soon as you got home your nose was hit with the wonderful scent of very good food in the kitchen, a smile on your face as you walked over to where the scent was originating from. you were pleasantly surprised to see choi soobin in the kitchen, wearing a tank top and shorts while cooking some more fries. you couldn't hold back your gratitude, going up to him and hugging him tightly.

"thanks soobie! you're the greatest person in the entire world," you beamed, making him 1. blush, 2. stutter over his words and 3. involuntarily gain a massive boner from the hug. he was very thankful for the baggy shorts however, and how he had tucked his cock in his pants to where it was barely noticeable. you did notice though, but you didn't speak about it.

the dinner was filled with laughter and gossip, you telling him about your girl drama while he ranted to you about his gaming prowess. it was a great dinner, and you were both very tuckered out by the time the sun fell.

going to your room you went to grab some clothes, putting your freshly done braids in your bonnet before going to the bathroom and closing the door. that gave soobin the advantage of going into your room and laying on your pillow. he could smell every bit of you, every single scent that lingered on you today was on the pillow and god did it make him hard as a rock.

he palmed himself through his shorts, groaning soft chants of your name and getting so caught up in it that he hadn't realized the shower had cut off, and you were now watching him with a towel wrapped around your body.

his glasses were fallen off his face at this point, tilted as he softly whimpered praise about how you smelled and how pretty you looked. he was so desperate for you that he couldn't stop himself from imagining how your pussy felt, how it smelled, how it tasted, everything about it. he wanted you so badly but he was too much of a pussy to ask you out, and too scared to lose the friendship that he had worked so hard to maintain.

you were his only friend, he couldn't lose one of the only people that understood how he was and why he was this way. he couldn't lose you, so that's why he only fantasized about you.

so, when he finally came back from his imagination his eyes traveled everywhere until they were met with yours. he jumped so hard he tumbled off the bed, quickly getting up and going to leave before you stopped him, despite you being much shorter and weaker than he was. he still let you stop him by standing in his way, giving him a fake disgusted expression even though you were dripping on your thighs right now.

"soobin, what the fuck?" you spat, making the pale boy look down in shame and fear. he knew that he was going to fuck this up, so small tears came into his eyes as the realization of what he had done and the punishment for it finally crawled into his mind. "y/n i— i'm so sorry... i'll leave if you want i... i'm sorry." he mumbled softly, trying to push past you but you didn't let him.

your hand traveled to his chin and you tilted it up, forcing him to look down at you, but in the eyes this time. you didn't say anything, but you just wiped his tears away and smiled sweetly at him. "soobie... don't cry. i'm not mad or disgusted at all, i'm just a little shocked is all," you admitted sincerely, making him raise an eyebrow in confusion. "why are you shocked?" he asked, making you chew on your lip and remove your hands from his face.

"well... i mean, this is one of the first times i've had a guy come into my room and sniff my pillows while moaning my name. so who wouldn't be a little shocked in this situation?" you giggled, making him loosen up a little bit. "yeah... you're right. so... you're not mad at all?" he softly questioned, making you shake your head. "no choi, i'm not mad at all," you reiterated, making him smile brightly at that.

however, you were pretty desperate as well, soaking between your legs and you were still very much naked underneath the towel. soobin also noticed how your voluptuous breasts were starting to poke through the towel, making them a lot more perky than he would normally see them. he could feel his cock throb at that, him gulping a little to keep the saliva from crawling out of his mouth. "though..." you trailed off, making him snap back to reality and realize that he was basically staring dead at your chest.

"it was pretty hot seeing you like that honestly... i know you've never had sex or a girlfriend before, so... i want to ask something of you," you got closer to him, standing on your tippy toes to try to be even with the man's face. "can i be your first?" you asked, not making a move until he said something. he lost his breath as soon as you asked that, mouth dry and heart threatening to pump straight out of his chest because of that revelation.

he needed a second to come down from cloud nine in order to answer you, so you let him. after a second though he nodded his head, you leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. his eyes widened in shock, he had never kissed a girl before, and this was like heaven on earth. he was so happy to be tasting your lips as his first time, and... you would be his first time for everything.

despite his avid use of the orange and black website that most pre-teens to bitchless adults go to for entertainment, he didn't have a fucking clue of what the hell he was doing. he just knew that you weren't letting go of the kiss, so he wouldn't either. that was until you did pull away, which had him chasing your lips desperately because he didn't want to let them go. he just wanted to be near you and be all over you, which he would in a while.

you giggled and got off your tippy toes, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the bed. you put yourself on the bed and laid down, beckoning him to come over to you. he did so in an instant, he was so obedient and it was turning you on even more. you grabbed his face and started to kiss him deeper, having him on top of you made this even better since you could feel all of him all over your body and feel the way he squirmed under your touch.

you could tell that he was very nervous, the way he couldn't even touch your body and how stiff he was in the kiss was a tell-tale sign of it all. so, you pulled away (much to his dismay) and placed a hand on his chubby bunny cheeks. "soobie, you don't have to be so tense with me. i know this is your first time being intimate with someone, but you have to trust me, okay baby?" you spoke in a compassionate tone, the pet name just slipping out. he obviously didn't object to that but it seriously caught him off guard, which made his cheeks redden with a small nod.

you smiled softly at him before sitting up, gently pushing him down so now his head was at the edge of your bed. you took the towel and sat up on your knees, slowly removing it and exposing your naked beautiful body. well, he saw it as beautiful, even though you had some chub around your hips and thighs, but he didn't mind that. in fact, it seemed to turn him on more. he saw every aspect of you as a goddess in his mind, a person who could do absolutely no wrong. he was so in love with you, and he was very happy that he was able to get his virginity taken by someone like you.

once the towel was off you threw it to the ground, crawling towards soobin and straddling his hips. you leaned down and started to softly kiss his neck, causing him to let out a shocked noise at the sudden feeling of your plump lips on his sensitive neck. quite frankly, everywhere on him was sensitive, despite how many sessions him and his right hand had late at night. maybe because it was you, he wasn't quite sure. he just wanted this feeling to continue.

you trailed your lips down to his covered chest, looking at him and basically asking with your eyes if you could take off his tank top. "can i?" which was followed by an immediate "yes mommy," which had you a little taken aback. once he realized what he had just said he sat up quick, knocking you back a little and forcing your ass straight onto his clothes cock. he bit back a groan as small tears gathered in his eyes, covering his face and hiding it with his large ass hands.

" 'm sorry y/n— i-i didn't mean to say that it just— it just slipped out," he was basically pleading with you not to leave, he wanted to lose his virginity to you, he wanted you to take him however you wanted him to. he was about to cry when you just chuckled and kissed his cheek, making him flush harder. "choi, it's okay. you don't have to be so scared to try things with me. if i don't like it, i'll tell you. if i do like it, then i'll also tell you. and i quite frankly love that name. you can keep calling me that if you're comfortable with it, because i sure am," you told him, making him nod his head and softly smile at you. "okay... mommy."

now that that was out of the way, you went to go remove his top and he let you, holding his arms up and the top coming straight off. he then decided to slip off his shorts and boxers, leaving you both completely naked under each other's gaze. he was so beautiful, sleeper-ish build with silky smooth skin that you wanted to ruin. he was so perfect... god he would be the perfect man.

your lips connected again and this time soobin immediately melted into it, relaxing himself as you went back to straddle his lap. your ass was right on his cock, softly rubbing against just to see how his face scrunched up with pleasure in the kiss, swallowing up all his sounds. he loved this, this was everything he could've ever dreamed of. he was about the fuck the girl of his dreams, the reality hitting him like a pleasant surprise. he couldn't hold back the dripping of pre-cum that was all over your ass by now, making him even more embarrassed than he was before. however, you thought it was hot, and you wanted him to cum deep inside you.

this time, he was the one to pull away, panting softly as he looked at you with those bright eyes of his. "please... m-mommy just— just use me, i need it so bad," he begged you with such a whiny voice, god it had you throbbing so hard. you both were needy for each other and it showed with every action you two made towards each other. so, you didn't keep him waiting for long.

"of course baby," you cooed, biting your lip before starting to get yourself situated. you put your hands on his shoulders and stood up on your knees, guiding yourself to be right above his aching cock. he gulped as you started to sink down on his ridiculously big cock. seriously, how in the hell did he keep such a monster like this in his pants? you struggled a little as you tried to sink down, realizing that you would need soobin's help in order to fully go down.

though, when you looked to ask him for help the man was so far good, eyes in a daze and mouth open and panting heavily. he looked hot as shit but you needed his assistance in trying to get yourself fully around his cock, so you put a hand on his cheek even with your trembling hand. "binnie... c—can you please help me? you're... way too big—" you strained out, feeling the pain starting to kick in despite your wetness. this man was fucking huge and he didn't even know it, but he would help you at any means necessary.

so, he grabbed your hips and, with a little jerk of his arms, slammed you right onto his cock. this motion caused you and him to both moan out in pleasure, you arching your back and soobin's eyes rolling to the back of his head. after you both came down you started to slowly move your hips, your wetness covering his area so sloppily it was exactly like a porn video. he was mesmerized by your body and how fluidly you could move, he was in a trance by your hips. so much so that he involuntarily thrusted his hips upwards, causing you to moan out in pleasure but causing him to quickly stop your hips, confusing you.

"w— what's wrong bin?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady but you were already close to your orgasm. "that didn't hurt? what i just did?" he asked, which just made you softly giggle. "no soobin, it didn't hurt at all. please do it again," you pleaded, making something in the man switch by your begging.

he grabbed you and slammed you onto the bed, pulling your hips forward and ramming deep inside you. meanwhile he had no clue what the hell he was doing, he was just trying to follow what porn had taught him. although, he could tell that you were enjoying it by the way your noises increased in volume, how more fidgety you were because of the immense amount of pleasure he was giving you. so, he continued with his unorganized pace, still moaning alongside you as he did so.

"b-bin— fuck baby 'm's'close—" you whined, making him speed up a little as well. "f-fuck... me too mommy, m-me too—" he whimpered alongside you, you pulling him down for a steamy wet kiss. this instantly had the man's hips stuttering, shoving himself as deep as he could right into your g-spot, his cum flowing against it which had you clenching around him as well. your noises were equally swallowed by each other, this being the most intense orgasm both of you have had in your lives.

after a few minutes you both came down from your highs, you looking at the man above you who was a wreck. his glasses were basically off of his face now, lips red and swollen from your kissing, pupils blown and dazed with a red face to top it all off. he was so sexy, but he was on the verge of passing out. so were you, since that orgasm took a lot out of you. so, you both decided it would be nice to just lay next to each other, but not before deciding something.

"u-uhm... y/n?" choi chirped, making you turn your head in his direction. "hm?" "what... are we now?" he sheepishly pondered, you reaching a hand out and massaging his face. "boyfriend and girlfriend silly," you smiled softly, while he grinned brightly. "really?" "mhm. now goodnight baby, see you in the morning." your drowsy voice stated before he held you in his arms, you easily falling asleep. however, he couldn't sleep, because his mind was racing with so many things that sleep didn't come until the early morning.

which wasn't a problem, since you both slept until 1pm that day.

© gg 2023. dividers were made by me. do not steal, use, or repost my work without my consent. reblogging/interaction is welcomed.

[evvyyypeters-fics]

Freak Like Me

Jimmy Darling x felinehybrid!f!reader

Warnings! Angst, harassment, female violence, abuse/ CA, fluff ending, lil cringe maybe

Reupload of the request by @jazz-berry

“Mommy! Look at her!” Chirped the small child observing me like a zoo animal, a pure smile on her face as she pointed.

“Don’t look sweetie!” Hissed her mother, yanking her on the arm as she dragged her past me. Her glaring eyes darted between her enamored child and my face. I could tell the difference in the scorn between me and her child, even if I couldn’t prove it.

It's been 3 years since I’d been accepted into the Freak Show, the glares and scornful looks becoming custom to me over the course of my life. I was born a freak, just like everyone else. Everyday came new insults and reactions, and I never got used to any of them. But I learned to tolerate it. To ignore it and keep a smile, or a straight face. Everyone in the Freak Show was always supportive of me, comforting me and giving me a place that finally feels like home. But no one was a bigger comfort to me than Jimmy Darling.

Like me, he had an obvious malformation that needed to be hidden in public to be seen as ‘normal’ in society. He was one of the few people now in my life who I felt I could lean on the most. I felt he always had my back, and in return I had his. I’d had a crush on Jimmy for ages, his generous behavior and bold, friendly personality struck a chord in my heart. His love and protection for the other freaks, the ones who couldn’t fend for themselves as well, he beat the drum of my heart creating a stead-fast rhythm. As well as that cheeky smirk he dawned.

When I first met Jimmy, I expected him to make fun of me just like the other people in my life. He seemed like just the right asshole with his charms, flirts and overall charisma. Instead, he had this soft look in his eyes, something tender and special. I think we truly saw something in each other, a kinship. I was born genetically altered during an experiment orchestrated by the now asylum doctor, Dr. Arden. His sick experiments trying to create human abominations. And I was no exception.

He believed that with the agility and resilience of a cat, if he mixed feline and human DNA he could create a modified human with extreme agile abilities, hearing, smell and sense. His experiment ‘failed’ when I came out with only the behaviors of a domestic house cat and a set of cat-like ears and a matching tail. He kept me prisoner as a pet until I was 12, I was lucky to live that long with him as he originally planned to kill me, but couldn’t bring himself to do it as I was the only one of his experiments that didn’t turn rabid or died. I eventually escaped when I was 13, becoming homeless. The cups I held for money being spat into instead of just being ignored like the others.

Sometimes people would see me and instantly begin beating me up, leaving me wounded in the bushes. But it seems that cats must really have nine lives, because I lived to meet Elsa, who found me alone and battered in a ditch. Where she invited me to join her Freak Show. Where I met Jimmy, with his clawed hands.

A Lobster and a cat was quite an ironic pairing. Jimmy still liked to tease me from time to time, holding fish out in his hand and swinging it like bait as if I was dying to pounce on it. I’d just glare and cross my arms like I was tired of his foolish endeavors even though I quite enjoyed his little quips.

It was Saturday, a perfect night for the Freak Show. Elsa had managed to save the show for now with a few more acts added to the set, and a few new freaks added to the cast. I was included at the time. Our best show had 50 people show up, and our usual crowd is almost 20. Which is enough to get us all by for a while. Our balance usually runs out by the end of the month, but with consistent show times, it was a stable income.

Today I was asked to do fortune telling in place of Maggie, who (not so) unfortunately died in a freak accident. She was a fraud and ex-lover of Jimmy Darling, so a part of me didn’t feel much sympathy for her. I hadn’t known Maggie during either of our times at the Freak Show together, but I don’t miss her presence regardless. I just hated having been put with her job, feeling like a fraud myself. But Elsa insisted that fortune telling was quite popular, and with my cat-like features it was even easier to market.

I spent the whole night giving vague fortunes to anyone of any age. I mainly had children who were curiously fascinated by the flick of my tail and twitch of my ears. I spent more time answering their questions than telling their fortunes, which was sort of a win for me. I let some of the, granted less-greasy, children brush my tail for a moment before they shrieked and scurried back to their mothers like a flock of chicks.

In the corner of my eye I notice a dark figure standing in the distance through the open tent curtains, it’s tall and dons what I could only make out as a bowler hat and a long trench coat. When I squint my eyes to take a closer look, the figure is gone seemingly, as if I had just imagined it. It was getting late, and I felt sleep washing over me, but I hadn’t realized how tired I must have been until now. Imagining dark figures in the distance was quite unusual behavior for me.

I had begun to pack up the tent when I heard the soft swish of the curtains dropping, seeing the hazy moonlight disappearing in the enclosed makeshift room, illuminating only with the small candles and oil lamps dawning around the furniture to make it more moody. I quickly whip my head around behind me to gauge who just came in.

“Sorry, I’m closing up.” I said calmly, trying not to sound frightened, but I knew it must have been obvious anyways, my tail and ears always gave away my true emotions. Not to mention the bug-eyed look most likely plastered over my face.

I didn’t relax any further though when I saw a tall man standing there, he donned a brown bowler hat and a matching long trench coat. His hands tucked leisurely in his pockets. I noticed a small scruffy pre-shave beard on his chin, despite the tilt of his head under his hat hiding his gaze from me.

“Can I help you?” I ask, eventually turning my body to face him, getting in a stance ready to fight or run if I had to.

He raised his head and I could see the glimmer of his brown eyes, a deep droop in his lids and a small mustache upon his lip. He smirks amusedly at me.

“Yes, you can.” He says in a low, smooth voice. He was quite an attractive man, I had to admit. But there was something wrong about him, and I couldn’t place my finger on it yet.

That was until he took some steps forward and began to entice me with his words.

“What’s such a pretty feline like you doing here? When you could do so much more…you’re beautiful. You could be a model.” He smiles at me, like it was meant to be pleasant, but it only sent shivers down my spine.

I went into a defensive stance as I began to back away from him, but he only got closer, easily cornering me. I felt like an idiot for doing that, but I had no other choice. My breath began to shorten in my chest, coming out as sharp inhales, my heart fluttering like a hummingbird in my chest and pounding through my ears. I was getting dizzy with panic.

“Don’t be afraid, darling.” The man coos menacingly as my ears begin to flatten to my head. My words choked in my throat as I scream and thrash in my head, only coming out as burning tears in my eyes.

“Say….” He trails, glancing at my tail with a smirk. I freeze in place from his gaze and yelp painfully when he pulls at my tail.

“So, it is real.” He scoffs delightfully as if he almost didn’t believe it despite the clear movement.

“My…what a beautiful specimen you are, indeed…” He says slowly, taking his time with each syllable like a long breath. He reaches out for my hair and squishes it between his fingers, a new sort of mischievous grin on his face. One that is dark and disturbing and makes my hair stand up.

He starts to move his fingers to tuck my hair back behind my ear, but suddenly the curtains of the tent fly open and I see a familiar figure standing in the doorway with a look of sheer shock and surprise on his face that quickly turns into rage as he drops everything in his hands and storms over to the man. They’re almost the same height, so Jimmy easily grabs his shoulder to turn him and knocks a fair punch in his face. His deformed hand created what I assumed was probably a harsher blow than average.

The man instantly dropped to the ground, holding his now surely broken nose in his hand as blood seeped through his fingers like a river. He lifts his head to Jimmy and they just stare at each other for a split second before the man silently gets up and sprints away. Jimmy watches him run, practically huffing with anger before turning to me, his demeanor shifts and his breathing calms as he gives me a soft gaze.

“Are you ok?” He asks in a concerned, gentle tone. He doesn’t even let me answer before he swings his arm protectively over me and begins to lead me out of the tent and to his caravan.

“C’mon sweetheart.” He beckons, as if I wouldn’t follow him to the ends of the Earth no matter where we were.

As soon as he closes the door to the caravan behind us, the welled up sobs begin to climb out of my throat, thick and hot tears rolling down my cheeks. Jimmy instantly looks concerned and wraps me in a tight hug, resting his chin on the top of my head as his large hands rub my back soothingly.

“There, there.” He says comfortingly as he lets all the emotions built up inside of me through the day wash over and spill. Holding me tight to his chest so I could hear the calm, melodic drum of his heart, beating lovingly for me.

The sound itself begins to soothe me, along with his tender massages of my back and eventually the storm of tears subsides. He removes his chin from the top of my head and loosens his hold a bit as he points his face towards me and gauges my expression.

“Feeling better?” He asks with a soft chuckle, a gentle smile painted on his face that swelled in my heart.

I nodded silently and threw myself into another tight hug where he began to pat my head.

“Jimmy…” I said, my words muffled by the clothes on his chest.

“Yes, Darlin’” He replied, our cheeky little inside joke.

“Can we cuddle?” I ask, my cheeks becoming a soft pink when asking, slightly embarrassed at the request. I didn’t know how he would answer, we didn’t have the cuddly kind of relationship. At least, not in my eyes.

To my surprise I feel him shift, a soft nod. “Of course.” He rings out in a soft voice and I felt as if my heart could have almost exploded from how hard it started pounding in my chest. A feverish pattering that rushed through my whole body with a light weight feeling.

Without another word we both stood in silence, unsure of what to do, before Jimmy started slowly leading us both to his bed in a slow walk. He sat down gently on the mattress first before scooting back and letting me crawl forwards over him, nuzzling snuggly into the crevice of his arm and resting my head on his chest. I was soothed again by the subtle rise and fall of his breaths, hearing again the rhythm drumming of his heart in my ear.

He strokes my hair gently with his fused fingers, petting the top of my head like a true house cat. A strange hum began to pull from my throat as he continued to stroke my head and ears, his other hand wrapping around my back and rubbing it in slow motions up and down my spine.

“Are you purring?” He chuckled sweetly when he noticed the low sound.

“N-No!” I blurt out, shy and confused.

“I didn’t even know you could do that.” He says, smiling and resting his head back down on the pillow.

“Me neither…” I mumbled, and he lifted a curious brow, dropping it and letting it go.

Despite the strange reaction he pulled from me with the massages, he continued petting me, each rub and stroke becoming stronger and more deliberate. I felt the urge to continue the favor, my fists kneading into his chest with hesitant nudges. He smiled silently to himself when he felt the soft press of my knuckles rolling against his shirt. My eyes gently closed, eyelashes splayed over my pink cheeks.

Lulled to sleep in his arms, we both fell asleep together that night, waking up in each other’s arms and sharing a comforting smile together. Things were surely going to be different around here now.

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @xrag-dollx @lacucarachapisser @alittleobsessedbitch

[lina-studen]

random shower thoughts regarding the thing that might be making lenore special (and the cause of her death).

tw: death, mentions of suic!de and related topics.

I don't have enough evidence, so I won't be upset if this theory turns out to be wrong, but just wanted to speculate.

lately I've been wondering a lot about what makes lenore different from everyone else in the eyes of the raven. she seems to be the only one who can understand him, and he believes that she may have similar abilities to the deans. as if she doesn't even belong in this academy, dare I say.

I've seen some people in the comments speculate that lenore might still be alive somehow, and is in a borderline state of sorts. I personally don't think that's the case, because in a hundred chapters of the comic, we haven't gotten any hints about it (if I recall correctly, don't quote me on that). what we have been getting hints about is that lenore most likely died from a gunshot to the head. moreover, the clues are both visual and verbal.

and from the very beginning of time, I was always sure that she ended her life herself. this is one of those headcanons (or headshot canons… sorry) that you just believe in until proven wrong. I'm not exactly sure why. perhaps due to analogies with other stories. for example, I recently compared "nevermore" to "death parade": the main character there also found herself in a purgatory situation and was the only one who couldn't remember her death. near the end of the anime it turns out (spoiler here) that she took her own life.

plus, it doesn't seem like such an impossible thing overall. whatever happened at that ill-fated wedding led to annabel lee's death. we still don’t know exactly who murdered her, but in any case it's connected to lenore, so she surely felt enormous guilt. put such a traumatic event in a mix with her not so stable mental state.

during her time at "nevermore", lenore experienced a lot of emotions: fear, sadness, anger, joy, love, pain, relief etc. but none of her experiences brought her closer to the recalling of her death and manifesting. but you know what emotions she didn’t feel? all-eating guilt, wanting to give up, simply not desiring to live… it's a big assumption, but let's say it's possible.

comparing this theory with my other speculation here, lenore might be the only one who's death wasn't caused by the third party.

maybe the cause of her death is the differentiating factor? what if she was supposed to go to another dimension? but for some reason she ended up in the same place as annabel (either because of their connection or because some purgatory secretary decided that self-murder is still murder blah-blah). and now the academy itself and its realm are trying to get rid of lenore, because she doesn't belong here.

sure, these are all far-fetched assumptions based on another speculation, but anything can happen. my moots encourage me to share such thoughts so… I do.

[resisteverything]

Stella and Valentino

These two don't have much in common but they are both portrayed as abusers, towards the creators pet.

But the handling of each is dramatically different. Valentino is the nastiest most violent person in his show aside from the genocidal angels, he has full agency over his situation, there is no room to even consider his feelings given his situation. He is a portrayed as fun and goofy and has a stable evil boyfriend, he is compared to bubbles from powerpuff girls, he is regularly sexualized to the point that one of his nastiest moments is directly based on a fetish comic one of the animators drew of the two characters.

Stella is in an arranged marriage since the age of 4. She stays committed to a marriage she never wanted to a man who does not love her, to the point of birthing a child she doesn't want, for the sake of her family. Then her husband cheats, in a way that actively humiliates her, and swears to divorce her after he cheats. Every character constantly does things equally as bad as she does all the time. She is portrayed as an unrepentant abuser who celebrates this unhappy marriage she never wanted and has zero likable elements. While shipping Angel and Val is common among these writers, shipping Stolas and Stella is just not a thing.

Her motivations don't even make sense, she just does shitty things to Stolas that actively go against her own interests, like staying in a marriage she doesn't want and staying loyal and trying to have him killed even though she wants his money and doesn't care that he cheated. So yeah.

I guarantee you if you swapped the genders things would be dramatically different in how these characters are treated. There is context that would HAVE to be different, Stolas is a queer man in an arranged marriage with a woman and that aspect adds something that would be lost if it was a gay arranged marriage. But in a lot of ways it would only be different due to the gender divide here, because for gods sake how did you end up treating these characters just so backwards?

[findmeinthefallair]

A Blank Slate for Hunter

I love this outfit of Hunter's the most.

Hope you enjoy this lil' essay as a Halloween gift from me!

Hunter's silly elegant stable boy outfit is an outfit that allows him to be agile, not weighed down by layers of armour he had no choice in selecting to wear, and he can move freely.

No more cloaks (the precursor to no more gloves!). Keep in mind that in Labyrinth Runners he still had a cloak on, even if it wasn't the Golden Guard cloak.

And we know how dear freedom is to this boi's heart. He most likely picked this outfit himself, and by then he was no longer living rough post-Hollow Mind.

I guess this outfit always makes me think of the calm before the storm, in all its innocence. I mean, look at his corresponding model sheet:

The smirk. It's childlike. He's so silly. There's his excitement about something new that's beginning and which would bloom during the summertime he spends in the human realm.

And interestingly, there's some of the cheeky Golden Guard vibe left, yet it feels so new: which shows that it wasn't 100% persona. It's part of the real Hunter too!

When he runs with his friends, he looks happy:

He looks like he's experiencing safety and connection, belonging to found family already.

Not like when he's running scared:

His world is brightening:

It would eventually be snatched away on the night that Flapjack dies. But it wouldn't be lost to him forever, as love always returns even if in a different form.

Without this first season of beginning and growth, we wouldn't eventually have the pre-timeskip season of beginning and growth to let light back in again, in a new way.

There's the relief he feels after making it past Labyrinth Runners, having support from the kids at Hexside, and having a heart-to-heart talk with Gus, receiving and then giving back.

There was relative safety, in fact the most safety he's experienced at that point in his life after the horrors of Hollow Mind and Labyrinth Runners

and he was in the process of building up groundwork that would strengthen his resolve: the peak of which was voicing his desires in his Thanks to Them speech.

Sure, he gets triggered, but my god does he have help and support:

And he's cushioned by safe, trustworthy company. People who won't harm him.

His poor nerves could enjoy some respite for once! Well,

most of the time I think.

If you have heard of the body's sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems, you can spot both in action, well-animated during his various responses to distress.

"Sympathetic" forces him to move quickly, "parasympathetic" forces him to slow down and get rest. Sometimes, one of these might go into overdrive and bringing in the other would restore a better balance between both systems.

You can even "hack" these to slow down your heart rate and reduce distress, one example being splashing your face with ice-cold water (this triggers the body's "dive reflex" which can slow down one's pulse and generate more calmness), using deep breathing techniques or meditation to deliberately activate the parasympathetic system.

Hunter's fight-or-flight moments mean his sympathetic nervous system has come online, letting him be ready to spring into action to reach safety.

As he collapsed into his own grave which he dug at Eclipse Lake, that's the parasympathetic nervous system that's a big signal for him to rest, no matter how short. Any moment where he freezes is also the same nervous system activating.

There also would've been the offscreen pre-timeskip period of being depressed about Flapjack's absence and lack of purpose - it makes me so sad that this would've made him feel as though ALL progress he made was completely erased. But this grief response from his whole body and mind would've also the result of the parasympathetic nervous system forcing him to collapse into needed rest (any supposedly "extreme" response of his is honestly a normal response to unspeakable long-term abuse). These are the closest hints we got, when he thinks no one's watching, but of course we as audience members were privy to part of what may've been going on:

We have canon material that shows Gus helping him adaptively switch to his parasympathetic system, with something meditative (the square breathing technique) which he can continue to use and even develop variations of with his future therapist's help:

What about the times where he can healthily switch to the sympathetic system - moving his body a lot to reap physical and mental health benefits - as is needed? A good guess is that resuming flyer derby:

would be a big help during the worst of his post-regime depression, as part of an elaborate treatment plan in therapy. The tricky part for Willow, Gus, Camila and his other loved ones would be getting him out of bed and the house to Hexside. Luz and co. could also drag him out of the basement into the living room to dance to music videos or something.

He would eventually feel its benefits and have more happy brain chemicals! The more he does stuff with a group that he's close to, the more bonus chemicals he gets too.

What I'm getting at with the neurology stuff is the significance of this:

Perhaps most notable of all though, is him able to rise above and practice uttering a resounding "No" to Belos. The belonging he has found with the Hexsquad empowered him to do this.

When you build up protective factors (the opposite of risk factors) such as a support system and techniques to manage distressing symptoms, you could regain some control over your responses to triggers.

When Hunter helped to save Gus, he could push back against being overwhelmed by a flooded sympathetic nervous system here:

I love that there are moments where he experiences unpleasant sensations (affection from friends being very foreign to him), but he is mostly able to believe that he won't be harmed:

Neither nervous system is overwhelmed. Flapjack being on his shoulder must be a great help in grounding him here.

I just love this smirk on his face as he's in sync with Flapjack, the most confidence he's had since Belos shattered his beliefs at the end of Hollow Mind.

He and Flapjack have become even closer. They've built a relationship and have shared some precious memories, with many more to come during the summer.

We lose Flapjack, but one day in the future, Hunter can look back on these memories without being frozen in the horrors of his worst memories. He can't let the new in without first letting his best friend go in that scary sense. But he had the strength to do it, to engrave "Thank you for finding me. - H." on what would be Flapjack's headstone with his own timing, to make room for an existence without Flapjack, and for one that would eventually have his new palisman Waffles in it.

During this short period of resting up before the Day of Unity fight scenes, he gets to overall take a break.

There's an incredibly good analogy by therapist Georgia Dow on Youtube (link to her channel here) for when he starts to be in great danger.

When we see his expressions being drawn by the animators as more and more hypervigilant, when we see that adrenaline floods his system more and more to help him power through:

When you're hypervigilant like this, especially if you already have had a history of trauma dating back years, it's like when a smartphone's video recording mode switches on outside of your control.

The camera lens is wide, collecting all the trauma-related data and details that it can of the image frames in the recorded video: to ensure survival. And it's all subconsciously carried out beyond one's control.

And unfortunately, the phone might replay the distressing video(s) beyond your control, against your will, whenever a future trigger comes along. Imagine the video files simply just playing on their own, and you aren't able to hit the pause button on your phone screen or even choose to look away from your phone screen. That's how trauma replays in the mind during a trigger.

We see this in motion when Hunter is emotionally flooded with white hot fear here:

But when he saves Gus, he is able to regulate a similar if not worse wave of flashbacks later on here with the help of Willow's and Gus's breathing technique.

I think the scenes where he has childlike mischief written on his face are sandwiched between other episodes where he's going through an insanely tough time. It gives us in the audience a break as well...before the mayhem.

Under extremely high stress and in deep anguish, his prefrontal cortex is probably functioning at 1000% - one of the hallmarks of C-PTSD - to help him stay level-headed, and have good reaction time, and to strategize and survive.

He walks through the portal after Flapjack's death

with the widened wild look in his eyes, the overactivity in the part of the brain called the amygdala is screaming out how much danger he is in. His fight response is activated.

The opposite of all that hypervigilance mentioned above is the dissociative state that would become part of his day-to-day, once an extremely difficult period of depression hits him post-regime.

But in Clouds on the Horizon, King's Tide and the start of Thanks to Them, he is able to spend quite a few moments just "being". He's able to grin quite a bit.

I just love that he's learning about and experiencing safety in relationships in these episodes:

He can chill a fair bit, given the benchmark of craziness that was part of his daily life for too long. He's grounded yet relaxed during much of this phase.

As brief as this phase was, it's endearing, there's a pure and particularly vibrant quality about it despite the actual outfit colour being bland ol' beige, and it's a really special part of Hunter's overall screentime.

It was a simpler time, before the far worse and far messier confusion which would be waiting for him post-regime e.g. missing the 'love' that his 'Uncle' had shown him...feeling like he did not deserve to be revived by Flapjack once the survivor's guilt related to the grimwalker graveyard hits...and the rage of Belos's betrayal reaching full force.