#Stallion: no one understands me

[softquietsteadylove]

A newly arrived stallion arrives and Thena watches how Gil and that said stallion forming a bond

Something wholesome and cute? For the dressage AU

It was huge. Stallions were fairly large breeds, of course--well muscled and meant to be strong. But even with all that being said, there was no denying the horse was massive. It was all black, with quite a mean expression. Its long mane had yet to be trimmed or groomed because the beast wouldn't let anyone near it, let alone with shears.

Only one had been brave enough to even try.

Thena watched from around Olympia's shoulder. She had only seen the new arrival a few times, now. He had been purchased by the club for what an asset he could be, but first they needed someone willing to tame him. From what she had heard, Ikaris had tried, maybe even Eros - only the most egotistical riders, of course - but to no avail.

"Easy, boy, eyes on me."

Gil had a tight hold on the rope in his leather gloved hand. He let the horse trot in circles around him. The line was taut, the horse maintaining a distance from Gil but at his own pace. Gil walked in circles as he was led by his companion.

"That's right, it's okay," he spoke softly to the monstrous horse, keeping his eyes on it. He was the only one strong enough to compete with the horse's pull on the reins, of course. "No one's here to hurt you, pal. Just try to take it easy."

The horse glared at him, pulling back and trying to get up on his back legs.

"Ah--hey!" Gil tugged again, pulling him forward. "None of that!"

Thena watched, astonished as the stallion seemed to listen. She knew Gil had a way with the creatures, but she had never quite seen it to this degree. Maybe a way with a stubborn or fickle horse, but never taming an actual wild stallion. It was like something out of a romance novel.

Olympia bumped her shoulder.

"Hey!" Thena hissed at her impetuous horse, who flicked her ears at her. Olympia wanted to know more about the new horse as well, obviously. "Stop it!"

"Thena?"

Thena froze, nearly blushing at being caught spying on him (again). She pulled her hands behind her back to disguise her fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of her white buttoned shirt. "I-I see the new recruit is in good hands."

Gil looked at the stallion, who eyed Thena with a new level of wariness. Gil snapped the rope faintly, just enough to remind the horse of the bridle in its mouth. "Be nice."

His tail flicked, but the horse didn't exactly stomp or kick up his feet at her.

"I heard he was unworkable," she murmured, eyeing the creature keeping its distance from them.

Gil also kept his eyes on the young steed, like a coach eyeing a stubborn athlete. "No horse is unworkable, some are just more stubborn than others. But I think we're coming to understand each other."

The stallion attempted to rear up again, voicing his disagreement with that.

"Hey!" Gil barked at him, moving in front of Thena to keep the horse's eyes on him. "Don't make trouble for her!"

The young horse snorted but planted his hooves down again.

Gil wound the rope around his forearm to shorten the leash, walking forward again. "Listen, buddy, I get it, okay? You don't wanna be here?--tough. But it'll be fine if you give it a chance."

Thena watched as, once again, Gil the horse whisperer approached the unsocialised steed and spoke with him on even ground. She could imagine that if they dealt with canines that the unruly new creature would be seating itself before him.

"You think I got into this business because you smell great?" Gil snorted right back at the horse, who turned its face away from the joke about horse smell in general. "I used to just make horseshoes. But I met one horse, just like you, that was way too full of itself."

The horse whinnied again, complaining about its lecture.

"Shut up and listen," Gil sighed, loosening his grip on the rope. "I had to get some horseshoes on this thing, so I spent a whole month winning it over. And do you know what happened?"

The stallion just stared at him.

Thena felt the familiar and uncomfortably moist breath of a horse leaning over her shoulder. She nudged her nose away from her ear, "sh, just listen."

"I finally got the horse shoes on," Gil put his hands on his hips (the rope almost totally slack in his hand). "And he took a dump on me as soon as I did."

The stallion didn't even attempt to hide how much it enjoyed hearing that.

"Olympia," Thena whispered again, nudging her horse, who was also chortling behind her shoulder.

"But his hooves were in good condition for the rest of the season," Gil finished with a huff. He crossed his arms, "because he didn't have to like me, but we did have to work together."

The stallion turned its head somewhat, not wanting to concede.

"So," Gil held his hands up, dropping the rope tethering the horse to him, "I'm gonna let you think about what you want to do."

"Gil?" Thena frowned, watching the rope fall between him and the horse. She moved closer to Olympia subconsciously, and Gil took a few steps back from the horse and closer to her.

Gil stayed still in front of her, watching as the hose kicked and bucked and neighed at the top of his lungs. "He just has to get it out of his system."

Thena wasn't sure if there would be an end in sight to that. But Gil knew what he was doing, maybe more than any equestrian club member in the building. Although she had to admit that the sheer size and display put her on edge.

Gil didn't say anything - very kindly - about her clutching at his sleeve.

The stallion glared at him, panting from its display of protest. It stalked over to him slowly.

"Gil," Thena repeated, tugging at him more. The horse truly was huge, standing much, much taller than Olympia. She moved somewhat more behind him, "Gil!"

"It's okay," he said calmly, whether to her or the horse staring them down. He raised his hands openly, "you ready to give this another try?"

Thena held her breath, nearly hiding her eyes as Gil reached out to the stallion's nose. But she let it go as he actually let Gil pet him. It was slight, and after just a few pats he was sick of it, turning away and flicking his tail again. But Gil had done it, in a sense.

"It's okay," he chuckled, watching his stubborn new stablemate stomp around petulantly. "I think he's done with his temper tantrum, at least for now."

"Hm," Thena mused, unable to match his level of surety. But she did her best to pretend she hadn't been clinging to him. "I'm sure the riders will be eager to think that they can have a go at him, now."

"Well, I think he'll be reluctant to let anyone that close to him yet," Gil ruffled his hair, letting out a tense breath. He turned back to her properly, "sorry you had to get caught up in that."

She tilted her head at him, "was it true?--about you and taming that horse?"

"It is true," he rolled his eyes, "not that it's a nice story or anything. But that is how I started caring for horses and not just making horse shoes. So I guess I know how to deal with colts like him."

The stallion bellowed at him from across the pen, just to complain about being called a young colt.

"Save it, buddy," Gil chuckled back at the horse.

"You make an interesting pair, that is certain," Thena smiled, gravitating back to the side of her own lovely mare. "Should I look forward to watching you mount in the future?"

"Hm?" Gil blinked at her. "Oh, I'm no rider, I'll leave that to you guys."

Gil laughed it off, but Thena watched as he smacked the outside of his thigh, clad in blue jeans to emphasize that he wasn't a rider. But she wasn't sure about that, because he was definitely strong enough to ride if he wanted to.

Not that she had noticed such things.

"Come on," Thena murmured to Olympia as Gil went back to the steed, the boys bonding over whatever males bonded over. She tickled the nose of her prim white horse, "let's leave the men to their work."

[ohello0]

Which diss bar goes harder at calling niggas pedophiles “you don’t hate Megan you hate Megan’s law” vs. “you tryna strike a chord and it’s probably a minor”

[arthursfuckinghat]

John Marston and Sombra 𑁦𓃥𑁦 RDR1

[alexjcrowley]

I love watching movies that try to be The Big Short and fail

[cowardlycowboys]

very weird when I discover celebrities are younger than me or people I know

[gothsuguru]

@teddybeartoji @neptuneblue @chwoso @staryukis @mossmotif @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat

CEO of hot boy summer

[allpiesforourown]

Okay let me tell you guys about one of my fav bingyuan aus.. bingge having a one sided rivalry with shen yuan

He had to get a scholarship and work his ass off to afford college, had to put on a fake smile and network like crazy.. so naturally when he sees shen yuan, this guy who was born rich and is naturally extroverted, he hates it

Shen Yuan on the other hand, thinks binghe is super cool! He looks like what he'd imagine a stallion protagonist to look like! Not to mention he's athletic, intelligent, beautiful, just perfect in every way!

Binghe is always trying to rile up shen yuan and "expose" him as a terrible person pretending to be good, so their interactions go like this:

Binghe: so you're entering this contest too? Ha, don't waste your time. You know youre leagues behind me

Shen yuan: you're also entering? Great! I can't wait to see you perform :)

Binghe, flustered: FUCK YOU.

Ning yingying is binghes childhood friend and binghe barges into her apartment every other day to rant about this guy.

Binghe: I hate shen yuan!!! Who does he think he is!! Acting all high and mighty !!!

Yingying, who doesn't understand but wants to be supportive of her friend: yeah a-luo, fuck that guy

Binghe: and then even after I rubbed it in his face that I won, he had the audacity to say "I hope I'll get to see you perform next year" can you believe that!?!??!

Yingying: ...?

Shen yuan gets seriously sick before a competition one day and binghe wins by a landslide. He's looking around the whole time, wondering where shen yuan is. He can't make fun of him for coming in second if he isn't here...

Binghe finds out shen yuan was hospitalized and he leaves before they can award him his trophy. Shen yuan wakes up to binghes panicked face saying "how dare you, you didn't come just because you knew I'd win? You were that ashamed of how superior I am to you? You better get better soon or else..!" Shen Yuan is do confused because why does binghe look like he's about to cry? Why is binghe visiting him everyday with healthy boxed lunches "to help him recover quicker" ??

Shen yuan returns to school and he's crowded by classmates asking where he's been/how he's doing. Binghe is off to the side, refusing to come over, but obviously sneaking glances at him. Shen Yuan smiles and waves and binghe looks away but his face is red

[sugugasm]

୨୧ ˗ˏˋ OTAKU HOT GIRL ! | suguru & satoru x yn “i like a tall woman with a nice, big ass.” ꒰ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 ! ꒱ this is me being delusional srry, but thinkin ab gojo & geto fucking tall, curvy! reader after she begs them to watch her favorite anime with her . . like ugh rn. also forgive me if this is pure degeneracy. i was bein a horn dog n’ there’s no plot rlly :/ inspired by the one n only stallion ofc, we luv u mama

꒰ 𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡 ꒱ : blk fem reader, uses she/her pronouns, usage of pet names like cocksleeve, love, baby, babe, sweetheart, etc. positions included such as doggystyle, double pen, themes such as choking, bratty reader, dom! satoru & suguru, rough sex ??, oral fem recieve, oral male receive, dirty talk, mentions of a size kink, lots n lots of cum, mmm yum so gross — 5.3𝑲 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕

“hurry up, boys! m’ gonna’ be mad if you miss the intro. it ruins the whole experience of watching for the first time!”

“we’re comin’, woman. calm down.”

both satoru and suguru scurry around in your shared kitchen, gathering the rest of whatever horrid snack combinations they could find before jogging lightly to make their way over to you on the couch. with your feet positioned criss-crossed n’ a warm bowl of popcorn sizzling down in your lap, the only thing really missing were the two imbeciles of men you mistakenly decided to roommate with around a year or two ago.

you roll your eyes fondly as satoru and suguru finally plop down on either side of you, their arms laden with an assortment of junk food. satoru’s got a family-sized bag of cool ranch doritos tucked under one arm and a jar of peanut butter in the other hand, while suguru’s juggling a pack of oreos, a can of whipped cream, and what looks suspiciously like . . ew, a jar of pickles. what?

“are y’all for real right now?” you laugh, eyeing their haul with a mix of amusement and disgust. “ we’re about to watch anime, not enter a county fair eating contest.”

“hey, don't knock it til’ you’ve tried it,” satoru grins, ripping open the doritos and the peanut butter simultaneously. his gaze dips briefly to your chest, taking in the way your soft pink lace cami clings to your curves. “besides, we’ve gotta’ fuel up. you said this show is, and i quote, ‘a cultural reset that will redefine our understanding of feminism and body positivity in media.’ i don’t know man, that sounds intense.”

suguru snorts, unscrewing the oreo package. his eyes briefly lingering on the bare expanse of your thighs, the flimsy matching shorts riding high as you curl your legs underneath you. “pretty sure she just meant it’s got a lot of ass shakin’ and women empowerment. still, sounds pretty lovely.”

you chuck a kernel of popcorn at his head, giggling when it bounces off his nose. “excuse you, that’s a very tiny observation of ‘megan - sama : twerk hero for a new generation.’ s’ a journey of a woman’s adventure to self-love and confidence in a world that constantly tries to tear her down. she uses her sexuality as a form of power. she like, challenges the male gaze and double standards with, well . . every clap of her ass.”

satoru blinks at you, a glob of peanut butter sliding off the dorito he’s holding halfway to his mouth. “that . . was surprisingly deep, yn.”

“mmm, that's our girl,” suguru says proudly, throwing an arm around your shoulders. his fingers skimming over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “beautiful, brilliant, and able to find meaning in the most unlikely places. like a twerking anime.”

you elbow him playfully in the ribs, warmth blooming in your chest at the casual praise even as heat prickles across your skin at the contact. “you’re jokin’ but m’ serious,” you whine, “it celebrates a body type that’s so often shamed and or fetishized, like i dunno’ . . she faces some of the worst - but she never gives up, and that self-love is what ultimately gives her the strength to change the world around her in the end . .” you keep gushing, waxing poetic about megan’s badassery and the show’s powerful message. the boys listen attentively, nodding along, but you don't miss the way their gazes keep drifting south, tracing your figure with barely-concealed appreciation.

you hated to go on your fourth tangent of the week right now, but god, representation really did matter. it was practically rare to see your body type in entertainment — let alone that exact body type standing at a whopping 5’10. this was . . like you said, a real cultural reset.

a comfortable silence then settles as they finish taking it in, the low murmur of the anime’s opening theme — otaku hot girl, now filling the room. you sneak a glance at satoru out of the corner of your eye, surprised to find him looking thoughtful rather than skeptical like any other guy your age would.

“i can dig it,” satoru says slowly, popping a peanut butter dorito into his mouth. “more representation of different body types in media, s’ important. and i mean, objectively speaking . . .” he rakes his eyes over your form, lingering on the swell of your hips and ass. “i like a tall woman with a nice, big ass. ain't nothin’ wrong with a little extra somethin' to hold onto, y’know?”

you raise a brow, something playfully bold and a little reckless brewing in your chest. “is that so? didn’t know y’liked your girls thick, gojo.”

satoru swallows, adam's apple bobbing as his gaze snaps to yours. “no, yn. i love, my girls thick,” he says, voice pitched low. “well that and, exploring your sexuality n’ confidence in general is jus’ sexy . . as hell.”

“hmmm, i see. getou?” you turn to suguru, head cocked. “any thoughts?”

suguru’s smile is slow and devastating, dark promise in his eyes. “he’s not wrong. m’ sure you know that though. body like . . yours, s’the kinda canvas i could spend hours worshipping. takes an incel to not appreciate it, honestly.”

“oh please. all that bravado, but i can’t you couldn’t handle me even if you tried.” you shimmy your shoulders, drawing attention to the truly tremendous amount of cleavage your cami isn't concealing. “you'd probably bust in your boxers if you so much as touched this ass. thank youuu.”

but even as you say that with all the confidence in the world, you can’t help but to think . . ‘what if?’ what if they could? what if you were talkin’ straight out of your ass right now just to have it be thrown in your face later on? — no, never, couldn’t be.

and later on, as the end credits of the final episode roll, you stretch languidly, you’d forgotten about the thought, feeling pleasantly buzzed from two pretty drinks the three of you had earlier and the easy camaraderie of the night. satoru and suguru have been the perfect viewing companions, cracking jokes and providing commentary that had you in stitches more often than not.

but all in all, underneath the lighthearted banter, you can feel something else tiptoeing - a tension, an electricity that’s been building all night. it’s in the way satoru’s gaze lingers on the curve of your throat as you tip your head back to laugh. it’s in the heat of suguru’s palm on your knee, his thumb rubbing absent circles that inch higher and higher with each passing minute.

“so . .” satoru drawls as the autoplay timer counts down to the next season. “that was . . actually enlightening annnd i just followed megan on instagram. so, when will she be mine?”

“mhmm, told you,” you laugh, feeling loose and languid from the warmth of the alcohol in your veins and the solid press of their bodies on either side of you. “and i dunno, join the club. she’s a fuckin’ queen. knows what she wants and goes for it, she’s inspirational, and an overall bad bitch, duh — i want her too.”

“kinda like someone else we know,” suguru muses, a sly curl to his lips as he turns to face you. his eyes are dark, heated in a way that makes your breath catch. “ain’t that right, yn?”

you swallow, pulse picking up speed as you meet his loaded gaze. “oh? and who might that be?”

“you,” satoru says bluntly, shifting to angle his body towards you as well. the movement brings him close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him, the firm press of his muscular thigh against yours. “talkin’ all that shit earlier, bout’ how we couldn’t handle you. you think that, babe?”

oh . . so maybe you were wrong.

and they had planned on it proving that to you.

there’s a challenge in his tone, a dare that sends a frisson of anticipation skittering down your spine. you lick your lips, noting with a thrill how both their gazes zero in on the movement, “maybe i did,” you say, pitching your voice low and breathy. “what’re you gonna’ do about it?”

suguru makes a rough sound in the back of his throat, fingers flexing on your knee. “oh, well since you asked . . we can give a little demo - show you exactly what we’re gonna’ do about it. ain’t that right, satoru?”

“damn straight,” satoru growls, a wicked gleam in his eye. “whaddaya’ say, sweet thing? why don’t you go ahead n’ show us what makes you a hot girl, yn?” he finishes.

heart pounding, skin prickling with goosebumps, you lift your chin in clear provocation. “tch, whatever. bring it on then, bitches. show me what you’ve got.”

of course you’d challenge them. why wouldn’t you? you quite literally had the power of god and megan on your side.

twin groans meet your bold words, suguru’s hand tightening convulsively on your leg as satoru’s eyes blaze with intent. “don’t mind if we do,” satoru rasps, voice gone low and gravelly with want. “been fuckin’ gagging for it all night, watchin’ you all curled up and cozy in this tiny ass pajama set, lookin’ good enough to eat . .”

“gonna’ fuckin’ devour you,” suguru vows, already shifting to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. “gonna’ put this bratty little mouth to good use, fuck, been dyin’ to feel these pretty lips wrapped around my dick.”

you moan, head tipping back to grant him better access even as your hands come up to fist in satoru’s hair, dragging him down for a filthy, biting kiss. he groans into your mouth, licking past the seam of your lips to tangle his tongue with yours, one large hand palming roughly at your breast through the flimsy lace of your cami.

“fuckin’ tease,” he pants when you break apart for air, fingers already working at the tiny buttons holding the top closed. “prancin’ around in this scrap of nothin’ all night, like a slut. y’knew we wouldn’t be able to stop thinkin’ about you, baby.”

“why don’t you tell me?” you breathe, emboldened by the blatant need in their faces, the desperate flex of their hands on your body. “c’mon, boys, use your words. what’ve you been thinkin’ about doin’ to me all night, huh? how’re you gonna’ shut me up, put me in my place?”

“jesus fuckin’ christ,” suguru swears feelingly, wrenching himself away from your neck to stare at you with wild, hungry eyes. “keep talkin’ like that and i’m gonna lose it, i swear.”

“then lose it,” you purr, hooking a leg over his hip and using the leverage to grind yourself against his straining erection. he hisses, hips rocking forward to press the thick line of his cock harder against your aching center. “c’mon, sugu baby, show me how bad you want it. show me exactly what this bratty little tease does to you.”

“fuck, you fuckin’ - get her naked,” suguru snarls to satoru, already fumbling with the tie of your shorts. “fuckin’ get her naked right goddamn now, i can’t - i gotta’ taste her, gotta’ get my mouth on this sweet cunt before i fucking explode . .”

satoru doesn't waste any time, practically ripping your cami open in his haste to get at your bared tits. you cry out sharply as he latches onto one straining nipple, suckling hard and grazing the sensitized bud with his teeth. “oh fuck, oh god, yes!”

your shorts and panties are yanked down your legs, the sudden rush of cool air on your heated flesh making you gasp. and then suguru is shouldering past satoru to find his way between your thighs, pushing them open wide and burying his face in your dripping cunt with a guttural moan of satisfaction, “i call first,” he mumbles into your pussy.

satoru scoffs an agitated, “not fair, but whatever,” and you can’t help but to giggle at the sheer fact that they were quite literally bickering over who was gonna’ eat your pussy first.

“shut the fuck up — ”

“aht, aht! hey, all my munches get along so . . y’all about to argue all day or what?” you mutter, and as if they were being scolded back in their early sourcerer days - they hush, and then, “holy shit!” you whimper, back arching clear off the couch as suguru goes to town, licking and suckling at your clit like a man starved. “o-oh my god, sugu, you’re s’good . .”

“mm, y’like that, sweetheart?” satoru husks, sucking and then pulling off your nipple with a lewd pop. his hand palms roughly at your other breast, plucking at the stiff peak, drawing high, breathy cries from your throat. “like the way he eats this pretty pussy, fucks you with his tongue? gonna’ make you cum so hard you scream, baby, gonna’ make you fucking flood his mouth.”

“y-yes,” you gasp, fisting your hands in both their hair as suguru goes even harder, slipping two fingers into your clenching hole and pumping them in time with the relentless suction of his lips around your throbbing clit. “yes, fuck, m’gonna cum already, gonna’ come on your face sugu, please, fuck, m’ so close . .”

“that's it,” satoru coaxes, pinching your nipple viciously, making you yelp. “give it up, yn, fucking come for us like a good girl, wanna hear you scream . .”

suguru crooks his fingers just right, rubbing mercilessly against the spot that makes stars explode behind your eyelids, and you shatter with a raw sob of their names. your cunt clamps down vise-tight on his thrusting digits as you gush around them, release flooding his chin and dripping down his wrist.

he works you through the aftershocks with hitching praises and soft kitten licks, only pulling away when you start twitching from oversensitivity. he rocks back onto his heels, wiping and licking around his mouth with the back of his hand and tongue, eyes hazy and satisfied as he takes in your wrecked, limp form. “fuckin’ gorgeous,” he slurs, words edged with wonder. “shit - look at you, jesus, all fucked out and dripping just from my mouth. i told you i could spend hours between these thighs, baby, i wasnt lyin’.”

“h-hours, huh?” you manage, breath still coming in shuddery gasps. “that mean you’re done with me already, sugu?”

his eyes sharpen, a predatory curl to his lips that sends a bolt of heat straight to your core. “not even close, pretty girl. m’ jus’ gettin’ warmed up.”

“why don’t you let her catch her breath,” satoru suggests, something dark and intent in his gaze as his eyes rove over your naked, trembling body. he palms his cock through his sweats, hissing at the contact. “still gotta put that mouth to work, remember?”

your cunt clenches weakly at the implication, arousal already starting to rekindle in your veins. “gimmie’ a minute to recover and i’ll put it to work all night long,” you promise, licking your lips. “wanna’ choke on it, toru. want you to fuck my throat . . please.”

“jesus, fuck, you’re so nasty,” satoru groans, fisting a hand in your hair and dragging you up for a brief, brutal kiss. “gonna’ wreck you, baby. gonna’ fuckin’ ruin you for anyone else, mark you up inside n’ out until all you can think about is us, all you can feel is us stretching that hungry little pussy wide . .”

“oh please,” you whimper, already halfway there just from their words, their roving hands, the hot press of their bodies caging you in on either side. “god, please, i want it — fuck me stupid, i don’t care.”

“and we will,” suguru vows, fingers dipping back between your legs to circle your slick, twitching entrance. “gonna’ pump you so full of cum, baby, shit, gonna fuckin’ breed this cunt.” you keen high in your throat, the images they’re painting sending heat licking through your veins like wildfire. you want it, want them, with an intensity that’s scarce.

“so what’re you waiting for?” you rasp, disentangling yourself from their groping hands to shimmy off the couch and drop to your knees between their splayed thighs. you rest your palms high on their legs, thumbs teasing at the straining bulges tenting their sweats. “i believe i was promised a face fucking . . and y’know i hate broken promises. don’t make me beg.”

“brat,” satoru husks, eyes practically black with lust as he lifts his hips so you can tug his pants down his thighs. his cock springs free, thick and ruddy and leaking at the tip, and your mouth waters at the sight. “let’s see how cocky you are with your mouth full. won’t be able to sass when you’re chokin’ on dick.”

“choking? you promise, daddy?” you purr, shuffling closer on your knees, hands running teasingly up and down their thighs. suguru makes a strangled noise, hands clenching into fists at his sides like it’s taking everything in him not to grab you.

“open,” satoru demands hoarsely. “open that smart fucking mouth. lemme’ feed you.” you part your lips obediently, tongue darting out to swipe at the swollen head of his dick. he jerks like he’s been electrocuted, a guttural moan punching out of his chest as you proceed to lave at his cock like an ice cream cone, all kittenish licks and teasing flicks that have him cursing up a storm above you.

“gonna’ kill me,” he grits out, hips flexing like it's taking everything he has to keep from fucking up into your mouth. “yn, jesus, quit teasing and suck it, shit — suck it baby, please . .” deciding to put him out of his misery, you open wide and sink down, relaxing your throat to take him as deep as you can. he shouts, hands flying to your hair as you set up a steady rhythm, bobbing and sucking and swirling your tongue until he’s leaking a steady stream of precum down your throat.

suguru is panting harshly on your other side, fisting his own cock with short, rough strokes as he watches you work over satoru. “look so fuckin’ pretty with a dick in your mouth,” he praises raspily, thumb collecting the bead of moisture at his tip and reaching down to smear it across your lips where they're stretched wide around satoru. “made to be a fuckin’ eater, weren’t you sweetheart? made for us, made to take what you’re given, aren’t you?”

you whimper around your mouthful, the degradation making your cunt clench up hard. you redouble your efforts, relaxing your throat and sinking down until satoru’s cock is nudging the back of your throat, your nose pressed against his pelvis.

“holy fucking shit,” he wheezes, fingers tightening in your hair to hold you there. “oh my god, oh fuck, your fucking throat, m'gonna come, gonna come right down your slutty little neck . .”

“do it,” suguru growls, hand still fisting his own cock, the wet slap of skin on skin obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room. “feed her that load, man, fucking paint her throat, make her gag.”

satoru cums with a hoarse shout, cock pulsing on your tongue as he empties himself down your throat. you swallow it all, working your tongue along the throbbing underside to draw out every last drop until he's shaking and pushing you off with an overwhelmed grunt. and you pull off with a gasp, lips swollen and spit-slick, chin wet with drool and the remnants of his release. before you can even catch your breath, suguru is grabbing you by the hair and dragging you over to his waiting cock, the head an angry purple and weeping steadily.

“looks like s’ my turn now, hm?” he grits out, tracing the seam of your lips with his cock, smearing the slickness around like obscene lipgloss. “back open, c’mon.”

you let your jaw drop wide once again, and then he’s pushing in, stretching your lips wide around his girth as he feeds you every thick, throbbing inch. he sets a punishing pace from the start, one hand cupped under your chin to feel his cock moving in your throat as the other winds tight in your hair, holding you still for his thrusts.

“oh fuck yeah,” he rasps, eyes fever-bright as he stares down at you, taking in your glazed eyes and drool-slick chin, the vulgar bulge of your throat. “takin’ it like a champ aren’t ya’? so pretty like this, baby. y’like it, like daddy’s cock buried in your throat like this?” you moan around him, looking up at him through your lashes as you hollow your cheeks and suck viciously — vacuum technique doing absolute wonders by the looks of it. he curses, rhythm faltering as his cock throbs warningly against your tongue.

satoru is suddenly there, pressing up against your back, arms banding around your waist as clever fingers find your aching nipples and pluck at them roughly. “your face is so pretty,” he husks in your ear, stubble rasping against your neck as he mouths at your throat. “it’ll look even prettier painted . . c’mon make him cum, you’ve earned it.”

the filthy words combined with the sharp mix of pleasure pain of his fingers on your nipples has you shuddering, cunt clenching down on nothing as a bolt of heat sizzles up your spine. suguru’s is close, you can tell by the way his thrusts are going erratic, his cock pulsing faster against your tongue.

“f-fuck, oh fuck, m’gonna cum,” he warns, high and tight, hips snapping forward once, twice more before he's pulling out abruptly, fisting his cock with desperate strokes. “open your mouth, fuck, stick out your tongue baby, wanna’ see it, fuckin’ shit!”

you obey mindlessly, tipping your face up and extending your tongue, a lewd, pornographic presentation. suguru loses it at the sight, shouting brokenly as his orgasm crashes over him, cock jerking in his grip as he paints your face with ropey streams of pearlescent white.

you moan shakily, back arching as some of his release hits your waiting tongue, the salty-musk taste of him flooding your senses. you feel debauched, utterly wrecked and still desperately turned on, your cunt a throbbing mess of need between your legs.

“holy shit!” suguru pants, slumping back against the couch, chest heaving. he takes in your cum - streaked face, the way you’re panting and squirming, still perched on your knees between them. “you’re a fuckin' vision, you know that? prettiest thing i’ve ever seen, all messy and marked up, fuck.”

“mmm, but she’s not finished though, are you baby?” satoru purrs, fingers drifting down to tease through your soaked folds, making you gasp and buck your hips. “look, she’s still hungry for it, so ready for more like the insatiable little slut you are. tell us what you need, sweetheart. tell us how you want us to wreck this pussy.”

“both of you,” you manage, voice a needy rasp. you reach down to circle your swollen clit, putting on a show for them. “want both you in me, filling me up t-til’ i can’t fuckin’ take it.”

“fuck,” satoru swears emphatically, cock already twitching with renewed interest. “yeah baby, we can do that, no problem. so sorry if we make you cry.”

“we gotta’ get her on the bed,” susguru demands, pulling you up and herding you towards satoru’s room. “need you spread out for us, wanna’ wreck you properly.”

you go willingly, eagerly, practically trembling with anticipation as they usher you into the bedroom, tearing their clothes off as they go. they descend upon you like men starved as soon as your back hits the mattress, hands and mouths roving over every inch of bared skin until you're writhing and keening beneath their attentions.

suguru pushes your thighs open and buries his face between them, groaning at the taste of your arousal. he licks into you like a man dying of thirst, tongue delving deep and curling just right to make you see stars. “fuckin’ drenched,” he mutters, pulling back just enough to circle your entrance with one long finger, gathering the slickness. “absolutely soaked for it, aren't you baby? dripping for our cocks, greedy little pussy desperate to be stuffed full.”

“please,” you whimper, back arching as he pushes two fingers knuckle-deep, pumping them lazily. “oh fuck, g-getou, more, need more!”

“ive got you,” satoru rasps, rolling on a condom and slicking himself up with lube. he shifts up the bed until he’s bracketing your head with his knees, the thick jut of his cock bobbing mere inches from your face. “gonna’ give this filthy mouth something to do while sugu opens up your hungry cunt, yeah? gonna’ fuck your throat while he fingers you sloppy, get you nice and ready for us both.”

you open eagerly for him, relaxing your jaw as he feeds his cock past your lips. he groans at the wet heat of your mouth, at the way you hollow your cheeks and suck, working your tongue along the throbbing underside.

“there you go,” he praises roughly, grabbing a handful of your hair and giving a shallow thrust. “just like that baby, fuck, feel like heaven around my dick . .”

you moan around him as suguru works a third finger into your dripping cunt, scissoring and curling them just right to graze that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. the dual stimulation has you shaking, the obscene sounds of satoru’s cock gliding through the slick clutch of your throat and suguru’s fingers pumping wetly into your pussy filling the room.

“she’s good to go,” suguru declares after a few endless minutes, pulling his fingers free and wiping them clean on the sheets. he slicks himself up, shifting into position between your spread thighs. “gonna’ wreck this pussy, baby, you have no idea how bad i’ve wanted this, wanted you. i think about you while i dream . .”

how could something said be so blended with both degeneracy and sweetness.

he pushes in on one smooth glide, the breath punching from his lungs in a guttural moan as your walls clench down greedily around him. “mm, what a tight fit. shit. gripping me, yn, goddamn.”

you sob brokenly around satoru’s cock as suguru bottoms out, hips flush against yours. he gives you a moment to adjust before he starts moving, rolling his hips in deep, devastating grinds that have you seeing stars.

satoru keeps rocking into your mouth, hands fisted in your hair to hold you in place for his thrusts. you take it eagerly, gagging a little when he hits the back of your throat but relaxing to let him push deeper, until your nose is pressed against his pelvis with every pump of his hips.

“m’ gonna’ cum down your throat again,” satoru grits out after a few minutes of spit-roasting you between them. “gonna’ get you all warmed up, honey.”

you moan helplessly, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you struggle to breathe around his considerable girth. just as spots start to dance in your vision, satoru stiffens and curses, hips jerking erratically as he spills into your mouth with a hoarse shout. “there you go baby, breathe for me — agh fuck yes. choke on daddy’s dick, thas’ good girl.” he then pulls out carefully, cradling your jaw as you cough and gasp, chest heaving.

suguru is still working into you from below, the drag of his cock against your fluttering walls almost unbearably good. you’re so fucking full of him, stretched around his thickness, but you still feel so empty, aching for more.

“please,” you rasp, looking up at satoru with wet, pleading eyes. “need your cock inside me too, need both of you fucking me, filling me, please.”

“such a needy little thing,” satoru marvels, eyes dark and hungry on your face. “gonna’ give it to you, baby, don’t worry. want me to stuff that pussy, hm? confuse you on whose is whose,” he laughs.

he slides down your body, shifting to kneel behind suguru between your lewdly spread legs. slicking up his fingers with more lube, he circles your stretched rim where suguru is steadily pumping into you, dipping just the tip of one finger in alongside his thrusting cock.

you keen high in your throat at the added stretch, the slight burn as he works you open further. suguru groans at the increased tightness, at the filthy drag of satoru’s fingers around his pistoning cock as he meticulously stretches you out. “god, look at you,” suguru pants, sounding absolutely wrecked as he stares down at where you're taking them both, hole straining wide and shiny-slick with lube and your own arousal. “pretty, little cunt all desperate for it, practically begging to be stuffed full. you want that, baby? want both of us crammed up in that pussy, wanna’ be our fuckin’ cocksleeve?”

“yes,” you sob, past the point of shame or restraint. “please, fuck, want it, want you both so deep in me, wan’ it to almost hurt . .”

“holy shit,” satoru swears feelingly, pulling his fingers free and lining his cock up alongside suguru’s. the blunt pressure against your already stuffed hole has you nearly hyperventilating, squirming down onto them eagerly. “okay, baby, deep breaths. gonna’ put both of us in, yeah?” you nod, and he pushes in hard, forcing his cockhead in alongside suguru’s with a devastating stretch. you wail brokenly, back bowing as you’re split open on their straining cocks, the burn of it so intense it borders on both pleasure and pain. but then suguru is rolling his hips and satoru is grinding into you and oh, oh it’s fucking perfect, the drag of them against your walls, the way they throb and pulse in tandem inside you.

“fuck,” suguru wheezes, sweat rolling down his temples. “o-oh fuck, fuck, fuck!.”

“m’ not gonna last,” satoru warns, voice absolutely shattered as he starts to move, drawing out only to slam back in, forcibly creating space for himself in your overstuffed channel. “yn, o-ooh, pussy’s stranglin’ me, baby — m’gonna cum.”

“do it,” you demand breathlessly, rolling your hips up to meet their thrusts, taking them impossibly deeper. “cum in me . . claim m-me.” with twin shouts they comply, snapping their hips forward one, two, three more times before they’re cumming hard, cocks pulsing in tandem as they empty themselves into you. you moan brokenly at the feel of it, of their release flooding your cunt, marking you up from the inside out.

they collapse against you as they come down, chests heaving and skin slick with sweat. you whimper as their softening cocks slip free of your abused hole, a river of come slipping out after them to soak the sheets.

“holy f-fuck,” satoru rasps after a long moment, pressing a reverent kiss to your shoulder. “that was fucking crazy . .”

“and incredible,” suguru adds, sounding just as dazed. “yn, baby, fuck. we wrecked you, jesus.”

“mmm, you did,” you agree, feeling utterly boneless and fucked-out in the best way. “absolutely ruined me for anyone else, jus’ like you promised.”

“good,” satoru growls, something fiercely possessive in his gaze as it rakes over your limp, satisfied form. “because this pussy? this filthy, perfect pussy? it belongs to us now. you belong to us now . . .”

you glance briefly at the tv, dick drunk and pleasure high. part of you thinks you should probably pay your respects to the anime that facilitated this unexpected but very welcome turn of events, but the rest of you is preoccupied with trying not to black out as satoru and suguru keep their attention on you.

megan-sama, you think muzzily, just before suguru starts to nip at your shoulder again, bless your ratchet heart. you the real mvp.

and then coherency flees completely as your boys descend on you once more, cutting off anything resembling higher thought.

the last fleeting thing you remember is a deep, unshakable gratitude for your beautifully crafted body and the incredible dudes about to spend the foreseeable future worshipping it.

thick thighs save lives, indeed.

there’s only one you.

we love you meg.

[hedgehog-moss]

The first episode of our shearing saga ended with Poldine being freed and happily running towards her family (who, let me remind you, had abandoned her and refused to provide any emotional support during her first ever shearing.)

I followed her, hoping to snap pictures of a heartwarming family reunion. Which didn't happen. Poldine's mum and grandma mostly looked perplexed.

Then horrified.

Poldine was, understandably, driven to existential despair by her mother's reaction to her new haircut.

Needless to say, when I tried to catch Pampérigouste to shear her, it was next to impossible. She knew what awaited her and wouldn't go anywhere near me, even when I made the Muesli Whistle (which usually draws a Pavlovian response out of her), even when I threw a handful of actual muesli in her direction to attract her. If anything she looked vexed that I could think she was no smarter than a pigeon.

But I have a PhD in catching Pampe. I decided to try something I'd never tried before: lie in wait by the watering hole like a hyena. You see, there's a gate near the water trough that can open all the way in either direction, and I figured I could simply trap my llama between the gate and a tree.

I waited, I waited, and eventually, finally, Pampe got thirsty.

Once she was trapped behind the gate it was very easy to halter her, and then she grumpily followed me to the corral, where I tied her to a post to shear her.

As soon as I switched on the electric shears, she freaked out. She reared up like a wild stallion, started foaming at the mouth, desperately pulling on the rope, it was awful! I tried to turn on the shears some distance away then get progressively closer when she got used to the noise, but she didn't get used to the noise. I tried to sing her favourite protest song over the noise, I tried everything; she kept acting like I was an exorcist and she was possessed by a swarm of demons. Eventually I thought I should just start shearing and get it over with as quickly as possible.

Pampe was so good with the llama shearer two years ago! She was perfectly calm and relaxed! She didn't care at all about the noise of the shears even when they were right behind her ears!! What is the explanation for this?

(when I expressed surprise at her good behaviour with the shearer back then, someone said she reminded them of the type of brat who's well-behaved with their teacher at school but insufferable with their parents)

Pampoldine stayed right next to her mum the whole time her ordeal lasted. Poldine, you are too good for this world.

These are my only two photos of Pampe being shorn, because my photographer was busy trying to soothe her by petting her, or distract her by offering her a hazel branch to eat. At some point Pampe tried to lie down and play dead, which made shearing her neck complicated, so my photographer was promoted (or demoted?) to Llama Scaffolding—she had to lean against Pampe with all her weight to prevent her from lying down. The last time I'd seen a llama play dead was when Pyrgus was sent away, which was pretty heartbreaking...

(Pampe possibly expected to receive the same amount of sympathy, but we had to remind her that Pyrgus was a child being separated from his mother forever while she was an adult getting a haircut.)

Since I sheared her as fast as I could, Pampe looks worse than her daughter—much less smooth, with some remaining woolly spots here and there that I wasn't able to go back to because she kept shaking her head, kicking her feet, squirming and generally acting like she was being tortured. It's now clear to me that she was only well-behaved last time out of spite, because I'd warned the shearer that I had one Difficult Llama. I sort of already suspected it at the time:

Please note that as soon as I released her, all the fuss and drama ended. In an instant. I thought she was going to jump away from me when I took off her halter, and run like hell, or stand there shaking from stress, but no—she ate a few hazel leaves from the branch (no longer panting, no longer drooling) then scratched her neck with her back hoof looking very composed, then trotted away lightly and happily.

[i6eyes]

%% jean kirstein bf hcs !!

pt 2

contains: sfw and nsfw, implied fem!reader (no y/n), established relationship, soft jean teehee, jean’s horse cawk, nothing too graphic tbh

— who knew a fucking stallion will be the one who's going to bring me back from the dead .

sfw

omg omg he's soo tall right

definitely puts his arms around your shoulder, and kisses u on your temple or forehead too

the sweetest !! i feel like he would be so so attentive to u

oooh u did a double take at the dress u guys walked passed by earlier in the mall? woah it's suddenly in ur bed the next day !! :OO

he's a nice cook ! can cook but the best, his expertise are mostly breakfast foods but he can cook you lunch and dinner as long as he has a recipe

oh he'd be absolutely smitten !!!! i luv big scary men being total sweethearts to their s/o

if ur trying some shoes, he'd be the one to do all of the work ! he'd kneel down, take off your shoes, puts on what you chose on you, will be the who's going to take it off too, then will tie or buckle your shoes up for you

or or or, he'd be out alone and he passes by this little store filled with trinkets and stuff. safe to say, he walked out of the store with a silly little keychain he knew you'd like

^^ one of his love language is acts of service

he loves spending time with you. specially the moments where you two just chill and share some occasional kisses here and there

his favorite thing to do is have you lay on top of him while he's laying down and make you talk about your day !! he'd play with your hair and caress your nape and back while you do so :((

he's obviously attractive, but he doesn't know how much

there's so many simple things that he makes attractive

his attentiveness. you'd be in the grocery then he'd suddenly disappear for a while, only for him to come back with arms full of chips and snacks. "these are your favorites, right?" he said while dumping them in the cart, not even waiting for your answer.

oddly specific but the way he leans on every door way. you know the thing where people place their hands on top of a doorway? that, but he subconsciously does it everywhere. omg imagine he fetches you from your house for a date and the moment you open your door, boom! there's jean, towering you with a smile on his face.

he knows how to slow dance, like the ones in the movies where the main characters would suddenly dance in their living room, to which, he did with you!

slow dancing in the living room with jean :(

if you're still in school and he sees you struggling with a subject or school work, he'd help you as soon as he could, specially if it's something he already learned before. but! if that's not the case, he'd take his time to learn what you're having problems with and try to come up with an explanation to make you understand better

he's so lame (affectionate)

nsfw

oh boy

he's not the stallion for nothing

easily one of the biggest cock in the aot verse

usually, i'd be realistic when it comes to sizes, but jean is at 7-8 inches.

hhhhhhgggh, king of dick prints. he's naturally big even when soft, about 5 to 5.5 maybe. < he's a grower

he's such a big man, his proportions are perfect, of course he needs a big fucking cock to go along with it

he keeps his happy trail no matter what happens. he knows it's attractive and knows that you love seeing it on him

^^ up to you whether you want him to shave or trim, he's fine with anything as long as he keeps his happy trail

wide athletic shoulders that he puts your legs at while he's eating you out our splitting you open with his cock

this man's proportions are actually making me insane i don't know how to put my thoughts into words anymore

his hands are big, but not huge or ginormous. it's pretty and rough looking at the same time. his fingers are longer than most men's but are thick enough like the ones most are familiar with when thinking about a man's hand.

his nape is sensitive, simple touches like brushing his hair back will make him shiver. hickeys also show more easily on his neck, just suck on it lightly and there's already a blooming red mark left in its wake.

oh my god, touch his torso or the bottom of his stomach (ehem, close or at his happy trail) and he's gone. it's starting to become an actual problem because there would be completely innocent moments where you touch those places because you need to get pass by him and he'd just suddenly pop a boner on the spot.

*taps mic* soft dom

he absolutely loves praising you, it's an unconscious thing he does

you'd be on your knees, sucking in his cock on your mouth as much as you could, and he'd groan while keeping your hair out of your face using a hand while the other caresses your cheek, wiping away the tears that lay there.

^^ "there we go, knew you could do it.", "fuckin' natural at it.", "think you could take me a little deeper? uh huh? yeah that's my good girl."

im in shambles

he's SOOOOO good with his fingers my GOD.

he knows what it takes to make you cum with his fingers, he has an actual technique it's crazyyy. doesn't prioritize in making it fast or hard or whatever, whether you like it like that or slow, he will follow his own lead on what he thinks will make you feel spineless.

knows the fingers inside you, palm on your clit thing. has made you squirt using it on multiple occasions

while he adores missionary because he loves seeing your face and folding you in half with your legs beside your ears, doing it doggy will always make him carnal

he has a thing for your backkk. he'd grab the one side of your shoulder while he's hitting it from the back, sometimes he'd bruise your hips with his grip instead

will slap your ass. not really in a sub/dom dynamic. he just likes the way he sees his handprint on your ass while you're writhing beneath him

stroke game is unmatched !!!!!!!!!

he doesn't rely on his size alone, this bitch is actually prepared and knows his shit y'all

even if he doesn't or can't push all of him in, he'd work with what he's able to put inside you and god does he do it well

during missionary, expect him to put a pillow under your hips despite his size and knowledge. he want to make you feel the best at any given time

while he doesn't mind if you're a loud moaner or what, he LOVES hearing you whine.

if you're a whiner, boy is it a good time to be ALIVEEEEEE

he founds it so cute and hot <3

[kenjioharashotspot]

🎥 | the campaign

pairing: kenji sato x fem!reader

words: 3758

synopsis: [name] [surname] is a world-renowned model and was scouted to do a campaign with Japan's sweetheart, Kenji Sato for the well-known brand, Calvin Klein.

author's note: the one-shot is intended for mature audiences, as it contains sexual descriptions.

Owner of a caring personality and a body to die for, [name] [surname] has conquered an assertive place in the industry as one of the highest paid models. You always wanted to pursue a career in modeling; living abroad and helping out your family as you climbed the social ladder with the main goal of rubbing shoulders with the most influential people. It seemed to you, like an amazing idea, and closer to obtain than you could ever imagine.

In this particular day, [name] was absolutely stoked about the new campaign ahead! She had been working out, taking care of her body and maintaining a healthy diet. Everything in her power to be as prepared as possible for the photoshoot, later in the day.

At this moment, Reika, your best friend and manager, is lecturing you about how everything is going to happen. Brand details; location; the campaign itself...you always loved to get ready for a photoshoot. The thrill of meeting a new team was different every time and the butterflies, anxiously flying inside your stomach were no different as well.

"So, Reika, can you please stop with all this secrecy thing and tell me about the campaign! I know it's a "couple's" photoshoot so...who'll be my pair??" your air quotes, paired with your disgusted expression and eye roll, made Reika laugh at the sight of you. She knew the time would come, when she would have to reveal it to you...she was hopeful your attitude about it would be professional. She knew how much you hated Kenji Sato.

"Sooo...you'reshootingthecampaignwithKenjiSatothat'sit" the manager's fast speech caught you off guard, [name] could tell the information Reika had for her wasn't gonna be to her liking and she was right.

"Can you stop joking around and just tell me, like a normal person?"

Sure, she could announce that information to you but Reika knew that, even though your job required professionalism and seriousness, you couldn't maintain those attributes when it came to working; interacting; or even talking with/to Kenji. Reika knew how you fell about him and, consequently, your reaction was deeply awaited by the woman in front of you.

"You're shooting the Calvin Klein campaign with Kenji Sato... — you open your eyes, as wide as you possibly can, Reika doesn't even let you start a sentence, immediately interrupting your train of thought — I know! You don't like him and even though, I'll never understand why...I feel obligated to tell you that this photoshoot is more important than anything else"

You muttered in utter disbelief, baffled by such a disrespectful decision made by the people surrounding you. Reika crosses your arms, looking at you and as she frowned, you stopped.

"Right, okay, fine! Let's do this shit! The sooner we launch the campaign, the faster I can get rid of that cocky player" your reply caught Reika off guard as she was expecting you to react obnoxious and childish. She smiled and placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it up and down, showing you some sort of support.

"That's the spirit! Now, get ready! We need to get going." her eye smile makes you relax a bit, reaffirming how calming of a personality Reika has and how it affects your mood.

Grabbing the keys to your convertible on top of the kitchen counter, you two leave the house, full of excitement and expectations about the important photoshoot ahead you. "Body" by Megan Thee Stallion blasted on the radio, listening to music was your way to get into the photoshoots and interviews. One of the instruments you adopted to feel yourself and hype, music! Oh, and what an amazing way to calm your nerves, always worked. You always made sure to show up to your events or shoots with some treats for the team, and this time was no different! You stayed up, baking the night away, but the little cupcakes tasted, not to brag, divine.

As you pull up to the studio, Reika helps with the cupcake boxes. The ambience smelled so delicious, who knew that, besides being the hottest model in the world, you could also dribble in the kitchen world. A box full of surprises.

The photographers were awaiting you, as you were the last one arriving at the studio. Seeing all those people looking at you made you feel somewhat uncomfortable, as your cheeks automatically gained a dusted shade of red. You are a model, but you hate being the center of attention, especially the wrong one.

"Hello [name], I'm Kaito Hamato, I'll be the director for this shoot. It's so nice to meet you. Behind you it's your fitting room, the clothes are organized accordingly so, whenever you're ready" his smile was patient, you could tell he was nice by the way he guided you to the fitting room. The moment you enter that room, everything clicked! You'd be wearing lingerie in the same vicinity as that cocky player who thinks everyone is obsessed with him. You hated that. Sure, you couldn't deny, he sure was nice to look at, but either way, your focus on your job was way bigger right now.

Sitting in front of the mirror with your eyes closed as the makeup artist finishes your makeup, you couldn't help but to feel another presence in the area. Could be a heavier presence, meaning, a male one. It was until you heard the squeak sound of the makeup chair a few inches from you, that you slowly opened your eyes, only to see THE Kenji Sato sitting next to you, getting his makeup nice and fresh again.

The slow eye roll you gave him, made him chuckle. That reaction of yours was always  automatic at the sight of him.

"Wow, I didn't even said a word! Is that the power I exude over you? I'm flattered" his sarcastic and overconfident tone was sending you through the roof, you couldn't help but to squeeze your hands as hard as you could, making them get a shade lighter, such was not your annoyance expression.

"You're a complete prick, I hope you know that" your disgusted semblant is noticeable for miles and miles, you promised Reika to be civil and respectful but...with such an idiot by your side, those promises are sort of impossible to keep.

"Prick, huh? Trying out a new nickname, are we?" Kenji slightly lifts his eyebrow, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looking at you for a hot minute. He won't even try to deny, he loves that game you two play. Still, he seems to not understand why the cold shoulders from your end, but how he loved to tease you. You were so easy for him to tease and make angry.

"Baby, you wish you had that much importance to me" the makeup artist gives you permission to get up from the chair, telling you to step into some other room to change outfits. The talk between you two ended as soon as you told Kenji you'd see him in a few minutes for the photoshoot.

In the makeup room, he runs his hands through his hair, shook by this interaction. It's not that he didn't want to have that intimacy with you, because believe me, he was thirsty for it.  But reaching you seemed too impossible, not even the most difficult women to conquer were as difficult as you have been.

When he received the campaign's proposal with you, he was thrilled, as he thought that, finally, he would have a chance to spend more time with you. Your encounters always seemed too fleeting for him, and he hated that.

"Mister Sato, [name] is ready to start shooting the campaign, we just need you, to start." Kaito informs, with the tender smile that characterizes him. Kenji nods and then gets up. His pecs, covered in oil for a wet look and the boxers that highlighted his body in a completely sensual way were all the directors needed to make sure the campaign was a success! Kenji was Japan's sweetheart after all, so would it be too soon to say, the campaign would be a worldwide phenomenon? I guess not.

"Is the princess ready?" your voice echoed in his ears, he was about to talk back at you when he completely froze. The body that stood in front of him, was also oiled up, highlighting your muscles and abs, as you crossed your arms the Calvin Klein bra made your breasts the center of attention. Seeing you like this drove Kenji wild, it was like he was seeing you in a different light, like a woman and not one of his one night conquests.

"Let's do this thing!" his absence of a comeback made you wonder what happened, he always had something to say and something to do in order to make you mad. You frowned but soon relaxed and agreed.

"So, this is a couple's campaign. I'll give you the directions, just follow them to the best of your abilities. [name] please, kneel in front of Kenji and straddle his legs. Make sure to lean forward."

While you're getting ready, one of the other photographers is helping Kenji out with his pose. He is seated with one leg bent and the other extended, holding your waist with one hand while his other hand rests on your thigh. You're are facing each other closely, foreheads touching, creating an intimate and affectionate moment. His cold hands make you instinctively shiver in contact with your warm skin. Your reaction caughts Kenji by surprise but it's pleasant to him, seeing you react to his touch.

Reika is happily observing the moment, feeling butterflies in her stomach and obsessing over your interaction with Kenji. She always thought you guys looked amazing together and when Calvin Klein reached out to her to discuss the next campaign, she was actually more excited about it than you.

"You smell really good" Kenji whispers, trying not to draw the photographer's attention as they're correcting your positions. You can't help to shyly smile as you hear his low voice next to your ear.

"T-thanks! You smell really nice as well" your voice sounded different than before. It was smoky, almost soft spoken, way different from the rough tone you used with Kenji earlier. Your cheeks, now painted a dusted coral shade, showed Kenji how comfortable you were with him. His broad smile, showing off his straight teeth could make you melt right there.

"Right kiddos, let's try another pose, this one was amazing. We're leaving for lunch after this one. I want to see something fun, out of the box. Kenji please use this chair, you sit on it and spread your legs. [name], you go sit at the edge on Kenji's knee."

You two do as you're told. However, you can't help but to add some details to the pose as you slightly bend down at the waist, leaning forward with your hands on the thighs. You're now dressed in the same grey lingerie and a denim jacket. Both of you can see the contentment in Kaito's face, his semblant was contagious.

Kenji's knee in contact with your pulsating cunt makes it hard for you to keep controlling your moans. He can feel this pose has some affects, as your pussy keeps getting warmer by the pose you guys are doing. Sato smirked and decided to add his own twist on the pose, grabbing your hair making you face the ceiling as your hands automatically go behind your back, holding onto his thighs. The photographers watching could feel the heat of the moment surrounding the studio, Kaito was living for every second of the photoshoot, he could see the billboards; the money; even more fame for the both of you; it was all coming together.

"Perfect! I can see this campaign will be grand guys. We'll have a lunch break now, feel free to change Kenji and [name]. See you in 40 minutes."

While the team prepared to head out for lunch, Kenji and you completely desfigured the pose you were in, relaxing a bit and heading off to each other's fitting rooms. Your heartbeat was increasing it's pace, you thought it might explode! Suddenly, he didn't piss you off that much? It was weird to think but, having in consideration the state he left your pussy during that fucking pose, it was appropriate to claim he left your heart skipping a beat.

It was just you and Kenji in that studio, he was in his fitting room and you in yours. For some odd reason, his shoulders and back hadn't left your mind, it's like those attributes of his were glued to your memory and refused to leave.

"Did I turned you on that much?" you froze, causing a huge vibration to run through your body, almost causing your trembling legs to collapse right there. Looking in the mirror in front of you, Kenji was pervertedly checking you out, measuring every inch of your almost naked body. His side smirk just caused you to feel even warmer for him.

"D-dont, don't know what you're talking about" The undeniable shake in your voice was everything Kenji needed to hear before turning you around to face him. Your face in between his long fingers as he squeezed those soft cheeks of yours, he loved when you had to look up at him and he loved putting his strength upon you, so those pretty eyes of yours would become teary.

"C'mon baby, I felt it! That warm pussy of yours gave you away"

As he kept squeezing your face in between his fingers, his other hand made a sinful path from your breasts, down to your stomach, reaching the soft material of your underwear. He'd look down and up, seeing you widen your eyes at his bold attitude. His cold hand, making it inside your underwear, touching your pussy, made you whimper and close your legs as the cold impact sent you shivers up your spine. Your hand, griping onto Kenji's forearm, would be filled with nail digging marks. The stimulation felt good and all but you needed freedom to talk to him when the moment required you to.

"Don't be so full of yourself Kenji" your words came out with some difficulty, that muffled voice of yours, by the position your mouth was in was making you anxious. You wanted to use your words as clearly as possible, without shaking or revealing any weakness, but how could you? Kenji was driving you crazy.

"You've been playing hard to get ever since you arrived, darling" Kenji slowly releases your face, caressing your cheek as a final contact. Your eyes meet, staring at each other, communicating everything you wish to say in words during your eye contact.

"I don't think I'm gonna last that long if you keep teasing me like that" your voice was needy, your entire body craved his touch. Surprise clouded his features, as Kenji's cat eye looking eyes darkened in pure desire.

"Always so impatient, beautiful? I can work with that." He remarked, guiding you towards the fitting room's couch, laying you down gently.

Kenji can't resist to pinning you down, placing each arm on each side of your shoulders and opening your legs with the help of his knee, positioning his leg in the middle of your bottom limbs. Your impatient whimpers make Kenji smile in satisfaction at the effect he has on you. The female body underneath Kenji, trembling at his invested knee contact against the thin fabric of her panties.

"Please...I beg you Kenji, fuck me" you desperately gasped at Kenji's touch against the fabric of your panties, almost begging him to tear them off your body.

"You sound so good using that pretty mouth of yours to beg for it. I'll make sure you have a great time" his lips get stuck like glue to your neck, you could mentally count the kisses and melt at the same time. Your nails, scratching his nape made him go wild, he couldn't control himself anymore, Sato needed you.

With one fast move, your panties are long, ripped apart, forgotten in some corner. You open your eyes in surprise, feeling thrilled at the moment. As your faces drew closer, the world around them seemed to fade away. His lips were soft and inviting, a perfect match for the warmth of your own. Their breaths mingled, a sensual and needed dance of anticipation and desire. A tentative brush that sent shivers down their spines, growing deeper and more urgent as you two surrender to the moment. Your tongues, working in unison to create a hot environment, you both needed each other.

"O-oh my...God! I can't- please- fuck me-" You said in between the kiss, your hand gently reaching the waistband of Kenji's boxers, feeling his pulsating cock in the palm of your warm hand. He grunts as soon your hand touches his member in despair.

He stands up quickly, Kenji's boxers already around his ankles. His massive cock makes you gag in shock by the size of it. Precum already sliding down his swollen tip, making you salivate.

As you're admiring his full body, you feel in your mind the need to sit down on the couch, opening your legs to him. The bralette is long gone as well, revealing that amazing set of tits of yours.

"Sit on my face, I want to taste you" Kenji walks towards you, laying down on the couch. He bites his bottom lip, seeing you get close to his face. Each leg of yours on each side of Kenji's head, his warm breath in contact with your clit makes you shiver. He pushes you down, grabbing onto your thighs, squeezing them tightly and aggressively. Your loud and startled moan echoes in the fitting room, his wet tongue drawing circles around your clit makes you reach out for his hair, grabbing onto it. With one hand on Kenji's locks, the other one is free to start masturbating the man underneath you.

The man's vibrating whimpers make you ride his face as you feel your pussy getting wetter and wetter. His cock is too big in comparison with your hand, that keeps stroking the full extension of his pulsating member. He was looking at you, riding his face without mercy, like a life size dildo, he was enjoying it so much.

"FUCK- I'm- gonna come" you thirsted your hips back and forth, riding Sato's face faster as you start feeling a buildup of pleasure, the tension accumulating in the lower region of your stomach was an indicator of the orgasm ahead.

His tongue movements increased rapidly, he wanted to provide you with the most intense orgasms.

As you're feeling contractions in your genital area, accompanied by involuntary muscle spasms, a sense of euphoria feels your body. You can almost hear your hear beat increase abruptly as you reach your climax. Can't help but to smear your cum all over Kenji's face who, satisfyingly smiles seeing how much he made you cum.

"Lay down gorgeous, I'll make you cum again...but now, on my dick"

With a fast and simple move, for Kenji, he switches positions, getting on top of you. He positioned himself between your legs, rubbing his wet hardness against your needy opening, begging to be ravished by Kenji's hard wood.

All this teasing got your body going into a frenzy, as he pushed his cock inside you, you pushed him closer by hugging him. Your lips went directly into Kenji's neck, biting it and sucking on it, suppressing your gasp as your pussy was getting stretched by the extension of Sato's dick.

Kenji's manhood, hitting your g-spot several times made you dig your nails through his entire back. He was loving the way your body was reacting to being fucked by him, your eyes, getting blood shot from all the pleasure and all the heat was unbearable for him to watch without wanting to destroy you.

"My dear Lord, you're so mesmerizing like this, I could get used to fucking you every day" Every word, every stroke, every moan was a demonstration of how much the both of you were enjoying each other's bodies.

You put your wrist on your mouth, biting down onto it, you're grasping for air at this point! Feeling your neck tense up, hurting so hard that it's good. Kenji's blood flow on his genitalia was building up, indicating an orgasm. He feels his heart rate, muscles and neck tense as your pussy walls make it hard for him to escape your insides. Both of you are going to come, sooner or later.

"You're- that- fuck...that pussy of yours...so addictive...I'm gonna cum baby" His face, now facing the ceiling, reveals to you, his climax is near, as well as yours.

"Me to-too daddy...cum inside me...p-please cum inside my pussy" Your voice sounded desperate, you needed this, completion for both of you was near and you couldn't stop thinking about his warm cum dripping from the inside of your needy cunt.

You arch your back and squeeze your tits as your eyes seem to go crazy, going into the back of your head. Kenji on the other hand, pushes one hand down on your stomach, feeling his huge cock inside your body and it makes him go feral. By instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist, making it impossible to escape your embrace and carve nonsense lines with your nails all over his back. You two were coming in tune, each other's cum getting mixed up inside you felt so good.

"You're such a good girl!" He says, a little out of breath, while removing his cock from your inside your pussy, admiring how much cum is dripping onto the couch.

"And you're a sex god!" You smile, stealing a passionate kiss from him. Your body felt totally different, lighter, almost like you were getting drunk off the smell of sex hovering everywhere in the fitting room.

"Kenji? [name]? Are you guys in there? Let's continue on with our photoshoot!" Kaito's voice was heard from the outside of the fitting room. The two adults inside got up, eyes widened. Analyzing the room would give the impression an hurricane went by and destroyed everything (and everyone! *wink wink*)

"We. Are. Fucked."

Both of you said in unison. You guys were in fact, fucked!

[algae-tm]

AGORA HILLS

Daniel Ricciardo x rapper!Reader SMAU

Warnings : SUGGESTIVE content!! Reader and Daniel being horny for eachother on main

face claim : megan thee stallion

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danielricciardo : Locked in. It’s race week

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user7 : praying for a dr3 podium

— user5 : lmao you’ll need something stronger than prayer

user6 : can’t believe mother is dating this loser

youruser : whore

— user9 : 😅😨

youruser : I’m sorry I wasn’t aware I was running a brothel

youruser : who let you out of your cage long enough for you to post this

— user7 : girl pls ✋🏿 😭

youruser : who you trying to impress???? 😨😅

— danielricciardo : I’m sorry bookie, what can I do to make it up to you?

— youruser : you know what 😼🤭

— danielricciardo : on my way!

— landonorris : there are children on here!!!

— youruser : log off then norizz

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youruser : THANK UUU SO MUCH LONDON! Always a pleasure performing for you, truly one of the best crowds! Now if you’ll excuse me my man is waiting for me in our hotel room with nothing but edible underwear on 🤤

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lewishamilton : an amazing show as always y/n! But was that last part really necessary?

— youruser : yes

user7 : your free speech… hand it over!!!

user21 : how she’s so down bad over a man well past his prime i can’t understand 🤷🏼‍♀️

— youruser : PAST HIS PRIME!???log off NEOWWW

— user32 : I fear she’s dickmatised 😔

user45 : love that they’re still in the honeymoon phase

— user47 : FR!! I need all their secrets! after almost 3 years and they’re still so in love with each other

danielricciardo : AWOOGA

danielricciardo : woof woof bark bark

— oscarpiastri : 😨😨

danielricciardo : I ate the underwear 3 songs ago

— youruser : we can’t drive any faster 😭

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youruser : I see your “Danny Ric is a loser who doesn’t deserve y/n” and raise you “LOOK AT HIM, LOOK AT MY MAN, LOOK AT HIS BIG GORGEOUS, RIDEABLE NOSE, AND HIS TATTED THIGHS AND HIM IN A SUIT!!! RATTLING ON THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE!! I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM, GOD FORGIVE ME FOR EVERYTHING IM GOING TO DO TO THIS MAN WHEN I GET HOME FROM THIS DINNER, THE SLOPPIEST TOP THATS EVER GUNNA SLOP IS COMING HIS WAY!” oh btw Agora Hills out like rn! view all comments

maxverstappen1 : oh… uhm okay. NURSE SHES OUT AGAIN

— youruser : don’t be jealous cause I’m doing your man on the daily

— maxverstappen1 : 😨

— user65 : lmao y/n stays traumatising these drivers

landonorris : listened to the song! Great! Cool! Cool cool cool. Didn’t need to know all that but really good I guess

user70 : you know I’m starting to see the vision

lewishamilton : y/n… is this why youre on the phone rn?

— youruser : sorry wrong number

— lewishamilton : this is social media

— youruser : no habla ingles!!

user1 : not the random picture of you on the second slide

— user3 : that’s what I’m saying 😭 like is this not an appreciation post for your man?

— youruser : god forbid a woman look hot and post it! need to show you guys he’s taken by a bad bitch!

danielricciardo : forever grateful you chose me to spend life with 💞

— youruser : oh… we not being horny rn?

— danielricciardo : my draws are off rn

— lewishamilton : OH this is why y/n just sprinted out of the room

— youruser : forever grateful you chose to spend life with me too 💙💙

— user47 : she sends him blue hearts??!????? Is it for visa cashapp paypal venmo el matador racing bulls

— user76 : girl 😭 you good???!

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danielricciardo : I wanna tie the knot. I wanna show you off

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youruser : DANIEL RICCIARDO, propose to me for real goddamit!! You coward

— danielricciardo : working on it baby

— youruser : ooooo I need you so bad rn

user56 : sooo only fans when

— danielricciardo : my eyes only sorry

user78 : y’all are nasty

— user67 : in the best way!

user81 : sending you lot my therapy bill

lewishamilton : I love y’all but don’t you ever get tired

— danielricciardo : yeah she tires me out all the time

— youruser : yeah I do baby!!

youruser : my man

— danielricciardo : my woman

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[barcaatthemoon]

most likely to || lucy bronze x reader ||

you and lucy do a couples' interview for the media team.

media days had always been some of your favorites. it was generally a lighter training for you, unless they wanted some footage that day. today was a special media day, something that jona had asked you about after you and lucy came forward with your relationship. it had been a bit of a process for you to convince lucy to do the interview with you, but you knew that she was starting to get excited as the day drew closer throughout the week.

"ready to go?" lucy asked as she stood in front of your cubby. the interview had been arranged for post-practice, but you doubted that they had taken into account how long it took you in the shower. lucy had been ready for at least 20 minutes, not that she could ever mind waiting for you.

"tie my shoes for me?" you asked, since lucy was already in front of you. she rolled her eyes at your request, but knelt down to do it anyway. you knew that the eye roll was just because your teammates were around. lucy generally did all sorts of little things for you throughout the day, claiming that she always wanted you to feel like a true royal. "thank you, luce."

"you know, actions speak louder than words," lucy said. you didn't even have to wait for her to tap her cheek before you were leaning in to give her a kiss. lucy was absolutely beaming as she stood up completely, a light pink blush on her cheeks now.

"wait!" you called out as lucy started to move. you stood up and pressed a kiss to her other cheek. "you did both shoes."

"i double knotted both shoes, actually." you put your arm around the back of lucy's neck and pressed a kiss to her lips this time. behind the two of you, jana was gagging while pina and patri pretended to make out. it felt sort of wild that at the beginning of the season, you had been in their group making fun of the other couples on the team before lucy asked you out.

"one day maybe you'll all get girlfriends too and know what it's like for someone other than your mothers to love you," lucy teased. you swatted at her arm as you mumbled for her to be nice. pina and jana both grumbled as they sat back, but patri started to launch into a full blown rant about how she was more than happy being the "barcelona stallion" and sleeping around for the time being.

"do you see what you've started?" you asked, but lucy showed absolutely no remorse. she just grabbed your hand and walked you out of the locker room to get properly ready for the interview.

…

"alright, we're just going to play a simple game of 'most likely to' today. i'll ask a question, and you just point to whoever it most likely to do that thing." both you and lucy nodded, having a good understanding of the game. "first question, who is most likely to accidentally sleep in?"

"pssh, this is an easy one," lucy said as she pointed at you. admittedly, you had overslept quite a few times over the course of the season, resulting in both you and lucy being late to training. lucy was a lot worse at getting you up than alexia had been, the other woman often resorting to literally dragging you out of bed in your first senior season at barcelona.

"hey, my brain needs the sleep. it's still developing!" you tried to argue. lucy just laughed, knowing that you usually overslept because you stayed up way too late the night before. although, she did know that you could sleep absolutely anywhere, which she was slightly jealous of.

"who is most likely to burn dinner?" this time, your hand shot straight over to lucy. you had several legitimate examples of her doing this while trying to make sense of a spanish recipe. it was less that she was a bad cook and more that lucy was too stubborn to ask you for a translation.

"it was one time," lucy grumbled. you smiled and pressed a kiss to her cheek, which had her swatting you away from her with a pout.

"who is most likely to get a little too wild on a night out?" this question was a plant and you knew it. someone had to have told them to put this in to embarrass you, probably patri or mapi. they had been the two who had fed you shot after shot on a yacht just a few months ago, resulting in a unique combination of seasickness and drunken puking.

"life of the party this one," lucy teased. she reached over to pinch at your cheeks, earning herself a sharp slap to the knee. "and a bit mean. i don't know how i put up with her."

"whatever," you huffed as you crossed your arms.

"who is most likely to have an extra cheat day?"

"she actually has more in her meal plan than me," lucy answered. you couldn't argue with her there, thankful for the fact that you burned through calories more due to your extra strength training. jona and the other coaches had agreed to let you bulk up a bit, and it was definitely paying off on the field.

"i mean, look at these muscles." you flexed for the camera, knowing that it would end up in endless thirst edits later on. you reached for the bottom of your shirt, but lucy stopped you. she didn't mind you being a bit goofy, but she tended to get jealous when you actively showed off.

"who is most likely to get a little hotheaded?" your hand shot over to point at lucy, who had definitely snapped at some of your friends and teammates for getting a little too close to you. lucy shrank back in her seat, embarrassed from being called out.

"i can't help it. look at her!" lucy shouted as she threw her arms up.

"who is most likely to be considered whipped?"

"oh without a doubt lucy."

"(y/n)." both you and lucy looked at each other for a couple of moments before lucy recanted her answer. "from the outside, it may look like i do a lot for her, so maybe it is me."

"alright ladies, we are almost finished. just one more question, who is most likely to be the little spoon?" this time, you knew exactly who had asked this question. surprisingly, it wasn't any of your friends, but rather alexia. she had walked into your bedroom to wake you up for training only to find lucy bronze fast asleep in your arms while you watched her. lucy claimed to have not felt good, but alexia knew better.

"someone's taking the piss out of me with these questions," lucy grumbled as both of your hands pointed towards her. "in my defense, sometimes i just turn away because she clings worse than a koala. she just kind of grabs at my back."

"that's almost as good as the excuse you gave alexia," you laughed. the production team called cut on the video, allowing for you and lucy to finally go home. "wow, if i knew that it was that easy for you to admit that you were whipped, i would have just asked to do one of those earlier."

"people didn't know about us earlier," lucy muttered as she pressed a kiss to your lips.

"not officially, but we were the worst kept secret in the league. you did feel me up on the pitch the first game after we got together," you reminded her. lucy huffed as she rolled her eyes, knowing that wasn't the entire truth. you were giving out hugs to everybody, and lucy's hand had simply slipped a little when you jumped into her arms.

…

you knew immediately the day that the video dropped. the locker room was quiet, but not in a focused way. it was like they were waiting for someone, and once you and lucy were both sitting in there, chaos broke. cata was the first one to sit next to you, putting her arm around your shoulders as she pulled you tightly into her side.

"careful, lucy might get mad. she's a bit of a hothead." if those words had come out of anybody's mouth other than vicky's, lucy would have flipped a little. the fact that it came from the kid's mouth meant that an outburst was narrowly avoided.

"she doesn't seem very clingy to me. are you sure that you don't just like being the little spoon bronzey?" cata asked as she tried to get you to hug her back.

"i think that's enough," lucy said sharply. she walked over and tugged you out of cata's arms. she wrapped her arms around your waist and pressed her face against the side of your neck. "i won't lay a finger on her, but i'll kick your ass coll."

"lucy," you warned. she huffed from behind you and tried to find something to distract herself with. unfortunately for you, the team was intent on riling lucy up for the rest of the practice. it was to the point where you weren't sure that she'd be happy with you when you got home. the interview had been your idea in the first place.

"that lot is due for an ass kicking," lucy groaned and grumbled. you hadn't seen her so grumpy in a long time. she flopped back against the couch and let her head fall back as she closed her eyes. you didn't notice the way that she was waiting for you to come crawl into her lap, not until she cleared her throat. "are you coming over here or not?"

"you want me to sit by you?" you asked her.

"no, i want you on my lap. i want to hold you for a little while, please." lucy pouted up at you. your lips curled up as a wide grin broke out onto your face. you kicked your shoes off and scrambled into lucy's lap, content to let her hold you. you didn't like being the little spoon, but you absolutely loved to curl into your girlfriend's lap at the end of a long practice. "that's better, isn't it?"

"much. te amo, lucy," you mumbled as you pulled her in for a kiss. lucy surprised you by keeping the kiss innocent. she broke it after a few seconds to press her forehead against yours.

"te amo, lovely." lucy brushed her hand through your hair, smirking to herself as you relaxed against her. she may be whipped by everybody else's standards, but you absolutely melted any time that lucy touched you. it was a true testament to just how much you loved her.

[zepskies]

The Honorable Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for this @jacklesversebingo prompt.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Racism/racial slurs, attempted sexual assault (not successful), protective Dean, angst, some violence and some action.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 1: Pride & Prejudice

June 1872

Dean hears some of his men shouting, along with the telltale cracking of bone that would make a less seasoned soldier wince. He spares a look to Benny, his Lieutenant, and sets down his glass of whiskey.

Dean’s path takes him brusquely out of his office and toward the stables. He grabs his gun and his hat on the way there, setting the latter on his head.

Is it too much to ask for one night where he can drink in peace?

Dean comes to find a young woman being detained by two of his men, Kline and Novak. Roman sports a bloody nose and his eye is already beginning to swell. The woman fights against their hold.

Even under the pale moonlight, Dean notes the way she’s dressed: a deer skin dress cinched at the waist, over thin pants and shoes. He surveys her tan skin, her black hair that blends into the night, twisted into a long braid, and the anger in her dark eyes.

“What have we got here?” Dean says. He stows his gun in its holster as he approaches her, resting his hands at his belt.

“I caught her breaking into the stables, Captain,” Roman says. He prods with a hiss at his busted nose while trying to stem the bleeding. That’s going to be a bad break.

She remains tight lipped, stubborn. 

“Probably doesn’t even understand English. Savage bitch,” he says. Dean shoots him an impassive look to cover up his annoyance.

“Put a cork in it, Roman,” he orders. Then, he focuses back on her. “You’re a Lakota, aren’t you?”

Aside from their main mission here in the Dakota Territory, the Colonel has been fixed on fighting back against the Lakota Indians, especially after they sabotaged the supply line last month.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly. 

“The Lakota rear up their own horses pretty damn well. Why would you want to steal one of ours?” he asks.

She glances away from him, first at her feet, then over at the camp’s latest “guest.” Dean, Benny, and a few of his men wrangled up a horse a few days ago. He’s a beautiful Kiger mustang with a nasty mean streak. He barely got through a trim this afternoon, and almost took a chunk out of Rufus when he tried to brand the horse.

The Colonel ordered them to tie the horse up to a post just outside the corral—no food or water for three days. He’d turned to Dean with a firm set to his face and issued a single order.

“Break him.”

Now, Dean catches the furtive look the Lakota woman gives the horse, who flicks his tail. The animal stares right at her, as if into her eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.”

That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed.

“He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

Dean's eyes widen a fraction. He glances back at the mustang.

So that's why she's here, he thinks. She's trying to mount a rescue. Dean feels a twinge deep inside, but he can't allow himself to care about that. They've collected a strong horse that will be a good support for their objectives here, once he's broken.

“Ah, well see,” Dean says, tipping his Stetson up to meet her gaze. “That’s kind of our specialty.”

“Sir, should we take her to the stockade?” Novak asks. He seems reluctant to do so to a woman, even an Indian, but he’s always been good at following orders.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but another voice cuts him off. Colonel Asmodeus Sanderson steps out and takes a look at their captive.

“Not the stockade,” he says, with that Southern drawl that betrays his Kentucky roots. “Not yet.”

He approaches her with a slow, calculated gait. His hands gather behind his back. Dean gives her credit for looking Sanderson in the eye. She seems rightly wary, but not afraid.

“We won’t hurt you. I give you my word,” the Colonel says, “if you’ll lead us to your people’s camp.”

He takes a hold of her chin, turning her face this way and that, like he’s examining a dirty animal, and all that he’ll have to do to make it clean. She spits in his face.

Dean bites the inside of his lip against a smile. She’s got as much fight in her as the mustang. However, he has to school his face back into stoicism when Sanderson rears back in anger.

The harsh smack rings out in the clearing, along with the woman’s cry. Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

Only Kline and Novak’s hold on her arms keeps her upright. She pants for breath, but again, she meets the Colonel with a face that doesn’t give away anything, despite the reddening mark on her cheek.

“The post,” he barks. “Three days. No food or water.”

Dean is kept busy by his duties. He makes sure the camp is running in order, accepting shipments of supplies and ammunition, among other things. Cas Novak is in charge of the stables, caring for the horses and putting them through their training. Jack Kline is young and strong and a good assistant, along with others in his unit.

Right now, Dean and Benny are going over the plans with Colonel Sanderson for continuing construction on the railroad, from here to the Black Hills. It’s a path that cuts straight through Sioux territory—the bands of Dakota and Lakota Indians that occupy the land.

“The natives are fightin’ us tooth and nail,” Sanderson says. “But maybe our guest will be able to help us…negotiate.”

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

He joined the army because…well, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. His father had been a Cavalry Major, and he’d died an honorable death, now about a decade past.

Has it really been ten years? Christ.

Dean wipes his brow. Even with the windows open, the office is humid and smells like ass. He glances outside, where both the mustang and the woman are tied to their posts under a sweltering sun at high noon.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders what his dad would think of him now. 

After the meeting, Dean and Benny fall into step together to inspect the camp. The summer sun shines hot on their blue uniforms, and occasionally they raise their hats to mop the sweat from their brows.

Things are running as usual, but many of the men’s eyes occasionally turn to the posts. Dean’s attention wanders there too without him realizing, catching on the woman’s dark hair. It shines even blacker in the sunlight, like a raven’s wing. He knows the shade because his dad used to have a feather kept in his journal, like a bookmark.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks. Dean realizes what he’s doing, and his attention returns to the task at hand. Get it together.

Always forward, never backward.

“Just fine,” Dean replies. Benny gives him a knowing look.

“A bit unsavory, ain’t it?” he says. “Keeping her chained up without even a lick of water.”

“The Indians are getting smarter, bolder. They’re ambushing our men, going after our supply lines, and now, stealing our horses,” Dean says. “This is strategy.”

Benny shrugs slightly, making a sound of agreement. Dean hesitates, his gloved fingers flexing against his sides.

“If she was a man, you guys wouldn’t give a shit about putting a bullet through her head,” Dean says.

Benny’s gaze shifts downward. He doesn’t reply, but he concedes the point all the same.

They continue their route, and Dean keeps the rest of the conversation on the work at hand.

Mila has gone far longer without drink, but the sun is particularly unforgiving today. She’s prayed and prayed for even one cloud to glide overhead and shield her for a while. It’s not much better for her companion. He paces in place, occasionally tugging his head against the rope that binds him to his post.

She makes a clicking sound at the horse, getting his attention. She calls him by his name, and his ears flicker in her direction. He offers her a short whinny in response.

“I see you, Mato. I am with you,” she says in her native tongue. She hopes the sound of her voice will soothe him. He looks tired and hungry, but his eyes flick hard and untrusting on any man who comes near him. His spirit isn’t broken.

“Hey! Shut the hell up over there,” Roman shouts at her from where he and Cas are taking a short lunch break. Cas gives him a certain look, crossed mostly with annoyance.

Mila resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closes them and tilts her face back to the sun. In a way, it feels cleansing. Maybe it can wash away the stench of the White Men’s hands on her body, manhandling her, checking her for weapons.

She spends the rest of the day watching the camp. One of their leaders, the Green Eyed One, called this a fort. It does look fortified, with tall walls made of thick wood constructed to form a cage—whether to keep others out, or to keep the men and horses in.

She identifies the Colonel as their chief, of a kind. Green Eyes is second in command, followed by the Bearded One with a strange voice. Even the scruffy Blue Eyed One has some authority, mostly over the Child Faced One. There are too many others to rank them all, but she knows the Loud Mouthed One is arrogant, even after she broke his nose. The way he carries himself, he clearly thinks he has more power than he actually has.

In her mind, Mila conjures up different plans of escape. All of them fall short in some way. The men didn’t find all of her weapons; a small knife is hidden deep in her boot. She could saw at her binds within an hour, but even with Mato to carry her out and away, the problem is escaping this camp without alerting the men. Without getting shot.

She has three days to think.

That night, the moon refuses to give her clarity. Her stomach is too empty, her throat too dry, her tongue thick in her mouth. Her attention shifts in and out of consciousness, until the sound of boots crunching in the dirt trills unease down her spine. More alert, she sits up straighter.

The Loud Mouthed One. The one they call Roman comes to taunt her, offering her water, then drinking for himself instead. He comes closer to examine her. He has a small bind over his broken nose.

“You know, you’re a pretty one,” he says, taking another cold sip as his gaze drags over her form. “For a wild thing.”

His face nears hers, clean shaven, though his thin smile reminds her of a rattlesnake. Dread and repulsion churn at odds in her stomach as she realizes what he's really here for. It doesn't matter if he truly wants her, or just wants to pay her back for his face. Either way, he means to take her here in the dirt.

She looks away, not wanting to let him see her fear, or the dread tightening her stomach, rising into her throat. He winds long fingers into her hair. At first the hold is gentle, deceptive. Then it's tight against her scalp. She hisses in pain when he tugs her head back and forces her to look at him. Her breathing quickens as she tries to pull away.

He draws in close to try and claim her in a kiss, but she head-butts him, hard.

He cries out and stumbles back, his flask falling to the ground.

He angrily grabs her and hauls her up to her feet. He pushes her hard against the post and unbuckles his belt, just to stuff it in her mouth. With his free hand, he begins to undo his pants.

She refuses to cry out, even though she spits out his belt and fights him, trying to kick out his knees.

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Roman lies there catching his breath, and he spits a wad of phlegm and blood. His left eye will match his nose, that’s for sure.

Green Eyes looks angry and disgusted. He huffs and puffs while staring down at his subordinate. He pushes back his short brown hair and points an ungloved hand at Roman.

“Get back to the goddamn barracks. You’re gonna be mucking out stalls until shit’s coming out of your ears,” he growls.

Roman doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious that he wants to. He just picks himself up, makes a show of straightening up his open uniform jacket while catching his breath. He walks past Green Eyes with a resentful, angry look. Green Eyes watches him until he disappears inside.

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

It’s not what she expected. Mila eyes him warily when he moves closer. She presses her back against the post until it hurts her spine. He raises up his hands placatingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“That is what your Colonel said,” she says. Her voice cracks with dryness. “I didn’t believe him either.”

His lips flicker at a rueful smile. It wrinkles crow’s feet around his eyes, breaking his stony face.

“Fair enough.”

He reaches for his belt and retrieves a flask, similar to the one his subordinate carried. He extends it out to her.

“It’s water, unless you prefer whiskey. I know I do,” he says.

She raises a brow at him, but hearing the sloshing inside the flask, her thirst takes over her wariness, and even her pride. She tentatively leans forward. He brings it closer so she can press her lips to the opening. Despite his Colonel’s orders, he lets her drink as much water as she’s able. When she’s done, he pockets the flask and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

That, she will not give him. Names are sacred to her people, and this man, while seeming to have a shred of honor, isn’t worthy.

“Don’t wanna even tell me your name?” he says. He nods slightly. “Okay, well, I’m Dean. Captain Winchester, to this band of delinquents.”

He gestures around the camp with a dismissive hand. Mila only watches him. She’s never seen a White act like this, breaking his leader’s rules, being…kind.

What a strange man.

But if he had any real convictions, he would untie her and let her go, along with Mato. She won’t hold her breath.

Dean’s brows raise up toward his hairline, and his full lips form a pout. Realizing he’s not going to get anything more from her, he lets out a tired huff and straightens up.

“Well, goodnight,” he says.

He finally leaves her alone, but she can’t help but follow the swaggering path of his bowed legs and heavy boots. They carry him away and back indoors.  

A strange man.

By the morning of the third day, Dean is ready to do what he does best. Or at least, one thing he does best.

He’s no stranger to horses. He grew up on a farm in Lawrence, Kansas, where he and his brother would help take care of the animals. Dean was older, so he helped his father till the land and train the horses. Sometimes he and Sam would sneak off and race their favorite ones, until their mom called them back for dinner.

In fact, part of what earned Dean his rank in the U.S. Cavalry was how well he could command a horse. His own is resting in the stables.

Today, he’s getting in the ring with the mustang.

…Well, not right away. He lets a few of his guys go first to tire him out. Even after three days of no food or water, the horse is living up to his bad attitude. He bucks each of them off after just a few seconds in the corral. Dean can tell it’s becoming a kind of game for the horse. His dun-colored coat shines in the sun, his brown socked legs kicking up dust and manure as he brays angrily at whoever tries to mount him.

Dean notices the Lakota woman watching with an amused smile on her face while she sits with her hands tied to her post. She’s enjoying the show, like she knew this would happen. It seems to give her energy every time another man is thrown off the horse and limps out of the ring.

Dean shakes his head. Pitiful.

He puts two gloved fingers to his mouth and whistles the entire clearing to attention. He saves Kline the chance to bruise his spine and pats him on the shoulder. Dean steps into the corral and positions himself into the stirrups, wrapping the reins around his hand. The horse is breathing hard, but he’s not done. He’s still got fight in him. Dean sees it in his brown eyes.

“All right, mustang. You’re big and bad. I get it,” Dean says lowly. “But I don’t scare easy. Gimme your best damn shot.”

Cas and Benny give him wary looks from where they stand outside the gate.

“Hold onto your hat, Cap,” Benny mutters.

Dean adjusts his hat and rests his gun on the post for safe keeping. He wants to feel as natural as possible, like it’s just him and this horse, out back in his family farm. He holds on tight to the reins. He’s fully prepared for how the mustang takes off at a galloping clip around the ring. He twists and bucks, but Dean claps his thighs tight and holds on for the ride.

The horse gets smarter.

He runs for the water trough just outside the ring. He slams Dean against the side of it once, twice—and manages to throw him off, with Dean landing right in the water trough.

He bursts out from the dirty water, sopping wet and spluttering in anger. He looks over at the horse trotting around, whinnying and tossing his head like he’s laughing. Dean can’t help it. His anger fades, and he smiles.

This guy’s got some brass balls, I’ll give him that.

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

“I see things are going well,” comes a familiar drawl.

Dean’s face falls as he looks up and finds Colonel Sanderson. Dean pulls himself out of the trough and tries to squeeze some water out of his uniform. He clears his throat.

“Well, uh, it’s going, sir. Just gonna take a little more time than I thought,” Dean says. He quickly reclaims his hat from the ring, giving the mustang a smart berth. After he climbs back out, he goes over to the post where he left his pistol.

“Hold him steady,” Sanderson barks out the order, but not at Dean. The other men wrangle the horse back into the pen, where Sanderson climbs up and mounts the horse himself.

To his credit, he stays on longer than even Dean thought he would. The mustang gallops and circles. He tries slamming Sanderson on the sides of the corral, tries bucking him and bucking him, but the man clings on, even when his hat falls into the dirt.

The horse is exhausted. He eventually stops in the middle of the ring, panting for breath, his legs shaking slightly. Dean straightens at attention.

So does the Lakota woman, he notices. She looks worried, her brows furrowing.

Sanderson swipes a hand over his graying hair and moustache to collect himself. He raises his head with an arrogant smile.

“You see, gentlemen. Any horse can be broken,” he says. He kicks the horse with his spur. “Move along, mustang.”

To everyone’s amazement, the horse obeys him. He moves forward at a slow clip. All the men applaud, even Dean, belatedly.

“There are those in Washington who believe the West will never be settled,” Sanderson continues. “The Northern Pacific Railroad will never breach Nebraska.”

His gaze draws over to the woman. Her eyes are filled with tears as she watches the Colonel makes his rounds.

“A hostile Lakota,” he says in derision, “will never submit to providence.”

She stares back at him with steel in her watery eyes.

Dean doesn’t realize his jaw is clenched tight until he feels the strain in his jaw. He forces himself to relax, with his hand on his dampened belt.

“And it’s that kind of small thinking that would say this horse would never be broken,” Sanderson says. “Discipline, time, and patience. That’s all you need to level a wild thing.”

Just then, the horse stops abruptly.

“Mustang?” Sanderson asks in warning.

Dean tenses. He knows what’s about to happen.

“Sir!” he calls out.

But it’s too late.

The stallion revs and charges, bucking even wilder than before. He swings his head and rears back high on his hind legs with a powerful bray. Sanderson yells in fear and strain, but he stays on the creature’s back.

The horse’s angry eyes take on a darker shade of conviction. When all four of his hooves hit the ground, he finally bucks hard enough to get the Colonel off his back, though he still clings to the reins near the animal’s head. He comes face to face with the horse’s crazed eyes. His own are wide and full of terror.

Hot breath heats Sanderson’s face. Then the horse swings his head and tosses the man out of the ring. In the process, the horse falls on his side and shatters a section of the wooden beams that fenced him in.

While he shakes his head and gets his hooves under him, Dean and Benny help the Colonel up to his feet. His uniform is a wreck, and now, with a bruised body and likely a couple of broken ribs, the man is fuming.

Kline and Roman wrangle the horse’s reins and keep him more or less in place. The Colonel shoves Dean and Benny off of him. He reaches for his gun at his belt and aims it at the mustang. Dean goes rigid in shock, but he knows he can’t interfere. If he does, it could warrant some major discipline.

The Colonel pulls the hammer back on the revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of cutting rope and a feminine yell breaks the silence in the clearing. The Lakota woman pulls the Colonel’s arms down, and the gun goes off into the ground. Her elbow comes up quick to strike the man between the eyes. He careens back into Benny, who catches him.

Meanwhile, the woman swings up onto the mustang. She grabs a stronghold by the neck and barks something in her native language. It spurs the horse onward, and he breaks through the crowd of men at a gallop.

Dean watches with widening eyes and furrowing brows. “Shit!”

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

They’re already approaching the gate where the men are quickly trying to close it. There’s still a window of opportunity for escape, but not only is Dean on their heels, Roman also stands on a pile of crates filled with iron parts that are due to be shipped out in the morning for continued construction on the railroad. Roman holds a rifle. He trains his weapon on the woman, taking deadly aim.

Dean’s jaw clenches and his brows furrow. He knows then, in the breadth of a few seconds, that he has to make a choice. If he does nothing, both she and the horse are as good as dead.

Sam used to call him reckless, stubborn as the horses he spent long hours taming.

Right about now, his brother is probably right.

Dean reaches for his gun, aims, and shoots within the span of those seconds. Roman goes down before he even knows what hits him. His chest plumes with blood after he slides down the crates and flops heavy to the ground. His eyes stare unseeing at the crisp blue sky.

The mustang tears through the narrow opening in the gate, and Dean isn’t far behind. The woman is an excellent rider, far better than he expected her to be. She clings to the horse’s neck and mane, and she doesn’t even use the stirrups. She clings on when the horse leaps over rocks, and when she notices Dean tailing her, she urges the horse at an even faster gallop.

Dean’s face furrows with determination. Baby is built for speed too.

He gives her a little kick with his heel. “Come on, Baby. Go!”

He’s able to keep up with the mustang just a few yards behind, even when they reach rougher terrain, going further up and into a canyon. He follows them through every curve and dip, guiding his horse just as much as she's guiding him.

Dean takes his rope in hand and turns it above his head, but his attempt to lasso the mustang's neck fails; the woman saws straight through the rope with her knife.

"Damn it!" Dean mutters.

He's forced to let go of his frayed rope when he and Baby nearly careen off the edge of a cliff. His heart settles high in his throat as he grits his teeth, but he pulls back on the reins hard and leans in the opposite direction. Baby's able to bank left, saving them from a long way down to certain death.

They continue up the narrow path the mustang has trod ahead. It carves around and through the mountain.

Dean mentally grasps for a plan, aside from just keeping up. Without even a bit of rope, he doesn’t know how he’s going to slow the woman down without hurting her or the horse. He doesn’t want to have to use his gun.

Eventually, the canyon breaks into a patch of desert, and then, grassy plains and tall forest trees. The mustang begins to tire and slow to a stop. His rider murmurs soothing things to him, stroking his neck. She turns back to look at Dean over her shoulder in dismay. She knows she’s caught.

“All right, sweetheart. That’s enough,” Dean says.

He sidles up next to her and intends to grab the mustang’s reins.

That’s when her swift kick comes, dead in his forehead.

AN: And here we go! 😅 Feels right that November is Native American Indian Heritage Month. 🫶🏽 For that reason especially I've done my best to do the Lakota people justice, even in this little series and complete work of fiction.

There's a lot packed in this first chapter, and yep, I did borrow a bit of scene from one of the best scenes in Spirit as an homage. From here on out, we're literally going off road...

Next Time:

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and his hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

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[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

On Crimson Coats

Part Five of this pirate au, there's smut in this one, 18+ MDNI. This applies to ageless and blank blogs.

~4.5k words

His confession is heavy. It makes your throat tighten, your eyes want to well with tears. He can't let you go. He said that, he sounds so convicted and sure of it. But it's almost unbelievable. It had been so simple for him to leave you before.

"I know how difficult it must be to see me now, after everything," Your husband continues, and his gaze softens, a trace of vulnerability seeping through the facade he's trying desperately to maintain. "I may not know the exact thoughts that reside in your mind, treasure, but I can see the shadows that cloud your eyes."

"You know nothing of what I feel or think," You retort, voice strained. You try to pull away, try to create space between you and the man who's been hunting you everyday since you left.

He only holds you steadily, not letting an inch of space grow between you. "I know that a part of you still yearns for me, even after all we've been through. I am still yours, as you are still mine."

You start to protest, lifting your head in defiance. But, Jason sighs out your name, "Darling, you cannot begin to understand how it feels to be so utterly and hopelessly in love with you. Being without you is like ripping apart my own soul. I know you have not forgotten that feeling."

He dips down to kiss the crown of your head, "I will make you happy, treasure. You'll see." Jason then lets go of you and steps back towards your horse.

You stare at him, at a loss for words as he grabs the reins of a large stallion, "Now, come along, my love, the crew is waiting."

"The crew," You echo, almost airily as he leads his horse over to you.

"Aye, love. I've sent them ahead, you'll see them soon," he says, grabbing your waist with both hands and starting to lift you onto his horse.

"Wait," You say quickly, grabbing his arms, "I want to– Can't I ride my own horse?"

His expression visibly tightens at your plea, reluctance flashing in his eyes. But, Jason sets you back down, and bites back his immediate instinct to insist you ride together, "If that is what you prefer."

You swiftly pull away from him and haul yourself up onto your horse, moving before he gets the chance to offer you help.

He hums thoughtfully, and his gaze never leaves you as he mounts his own horse with all the grace befitting a skilled rider.

You gather the reins, and you can't help but laugh softly when you catch his eyes looking between his horse and yours, as if calculating which stead would be faster in a chase.

His focus whips back towards you when you laugh, surprise and weariness crossing his features. Your laugh, though quiet, is a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere that hangs in the air, "Dare I ask what brings you such joy, treasure?"

"It's only that we're doing the same thing," You admit, gently nudging your horse to start walking, "Making plans, considering what the other will do."

He's quick to guide his own horse to match your pace, "So you are planning to leave again."

His questions sobers the laughter in your voice, "I– don't know."

The journey is silent for a long time after that. It makes your skin itch, questions dance at the tip of your tongue. You break when he quietly hands you an apple when your stomach growls, "Back at the tavern, why did you leave me all the coin?"

He nods sagely, like he expected the question, "It was a misguided attempt to sway you into staying. Perhaps I had hoped it would convince you that a life with me still held value, that I could provide for you."

You don't have a way to answer that, your own feelings too tangled and complicated to bring to words. That it was never the money that had value to you.

Your travels are silent again, that is, until Jason asks a question of his own, "Did you keep the ring?"

"I did. I kept the pins too," you say idly, the confession spills out thoughtlessly, but you realize the significance of it when he sucks in a sharp breath.

"The pins," he murmurs, "I remember how the silver glinted in your hair."

The sounds of the horses ring between you for a moment before he speaks again, "Let us rest for the night, love. We can finish our travels to port tomorrow."

"Rest," You question, eyes trailing to the road ahead.

"There's an inn ahead, treasure. I would not make you sleep on the dirt," he drawls, and true to his word, lights of a small town begin to flicker in the distance.

He steers the horses towards the inn, and soon enough, the horses are stabled and Jason's offering you his hand to help you dismount.

You hesitate, but take it. His touch is gentle, but firm as he helps you down, carefully resting a hand on your hip to steady you.

Neither of you move when your feet hit the ground. It's intoxicating to be this close to him again, after hours riding next to him in silence. Your husband still towers over you, is still covered in scars and calluses, yet his touch is still careful when he traces your knuckles with his thumb.

You pull away, and his face shifts with disappointment as he drops your hand. He gestures vaguely towards the entrance, adjusts his hat and telltale coat, "Shall we, love?"

You manage a nod and follow his confident strides into the inn. The warm light of the lanterns spills into the darkness as he opens the door and the chatter of the patrons dies immediately.

Your fearsome husband is a stark contrast to the cozy atmosphere of the inn. You wish you had thrown your hood back on, as guests and staff fix on Jason.

The inn is close enough to the sea that people instinctively know who he is, know what he's capable of, know the title he wears with pride.

His eyes gleam, like he enjoys the way lesser men seem to cower, the way his presence exudes authority. The light catches the sharp angles of his face, the edge of his blade, and tension grows subtly in the air.

Whispers and clanging of mugs pick up as Jason saunters to the innkeeper, you don't miss the way your presence alongside him piques interest.

The innkeeper doesn't say a word, only scurries away, you assume, to grab a key. You linger behind your husband, eyes darting around the room.

He tilts his head at you when you don't stand by his side, and lazily loops at arm around your waist, tugging you against his side. "You're breathtaking in this light, darling," Jason says softly, eyes sharp and watchful.

"Ah, yes, a fact that's made me many a coin," You drawl, settling against his side. It's not that you want to be close to him, really, it's just safer this way. There's too many eyes on you to pull away. You repeat the notion in your mind as he chuckles and your heart skips a beat.

"Aye, I can imagine a beauty such as yours does tend to garner attention and tips," he replies, easy going and relaxed.

The innkeeper returns with a key and places it into Jason's palm. His arm doesn't leave its spot around your waist as he guides you to the stairs.

"There's only one key," You note, somewhat discontented, but not surprised.

"You make it sound as if it's unnatural for married couples to share a room," he says, half-teasing, "there's no need to fret, treasure, this is hardly our first time sharing a bed, is it?"

"I suppose not," You relent, and he smiles at you as you get to your room. Jason unlocks the door, and with a warm hand pressed to the small of your back, sends you into the room first.

It's surprisingly nice, elegant even. As you take in the large bed, the porcelain tub half tucked away behind a partition, and the plush armchairs nestled by a fireplace, you realize how expensive the room must be.

You hesitantly tug off your cloak, caked with mud from the day's ride and drop it to the floor by the door. You kick off your boots, it feels like a crime to bring so much grime and dirt into the fine room.

"You're breathtaking," Jason tells you again, removing his own coat and hat and laying them onto the bed.

You make a face at the dirty leathers on the bed, but don't try to remove them. "You've mentioned," You mumble, "I've only gotten older."

His gaze trails over your figure in admiration, "Age only adds to your elegance and charm, my love, you've always been utterly alluring."

You tut, fighting the heat that threatens to rise to your face, "When did you have time to learn such sweet words?"

Jason's eyebrow raises slightly, mischief gleaming in his eyes, "I must admit I picked up a thing or two in my journeys, but the true source of my speech is you. You, my treasure, inspire poetry."

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, "Then perhaps you should have been a poet."

He grins, eager over you playing along, "Perhaps I should have been a bard. I could weave sonnets of your beauty and the joy you bring. But alas, I find myself more skilled in wielding a sword than a quill." He steps forward, voice lowering, "Unless, it's to write odes upon your skin with my kisses."

You falter, the words unexpected. It seems as if you can never quite keep up with him.

Your husband's eyes lock with yours, and your breath hitches at the unrestrained desire evident in his gaze as he studies your reaction. His voice drops lower, almost husky as he speaks again, "The novels I would commit to your skin with my touch. It would be a symphony, treasure."

Your gaze drops to the floor, suddenly mourning the loss of your cloak around you, a desire to hide from him, from his devoted tone.

He notices, of course he does, your unspoken desire to shield yourself from his intensity, "Forgive me, my love. I will keep my poems to myself, and my touch shall only be a whisper on your skin."

His fingers graze along the nape of your neck, and you almost jolt. When did he get so close? "Don't," You snap, voice sharpening and defenses raising.

He doesn't react to your sudden anger, only lowers his hand from your skin. His voice drops to a whisper, tone going to something pleading and soothing, "Why not, treasure? What disgusts you so much that you cannot bear my touch? Why do you despise the idea of being my partner so desperately?"

"Because you deserve someone who will fuck you in alleys, Jason!" You half-shout, and wince as hurt and realization flashes in his eyes.

"You have no idea what I want to do to you, with you, for you," he starts, voice low and steady. He pauses and lets out a shaky sigh of your name, "You can't tell me all of this is because of what happened in that alley. Please, I can't bear it."

You can't deny it, it is part of the reason you left. You stumble over your words, trying to find a way to explain your heartaches, how to tell him everything that hurts you without hurting him as well, "I– yes. No. I left because of– I left for a lot of reasons, Jason. But I almost stayed because of you."

You exhale shakily, "You were everything I wanted that day. You were perfect. Everything I dreamt of every moment you were gone."

"Ah," he breathes out, like he suddenly understands, you know he doesn't, "My absence was a weight on your heart. One day couldn't erase all those years of pain, could it?"

You swallow thickly and look away. He says your name, as if begging for your attention, "I wish I could turn back time and be the husband you deserved all those years ago. I would do it, treasure, if I only knew how."

"But you can't, Jason," You mumble, unable to bring yourself to look at him, "You can't change anything."

"I can change this– us, now. Give us a chance, my love. You'll be happy with me, with the crew, on the ship. Everything you could want, I could give you," he pleads.

You wrap your arms around yourself. You were happy for those few weeks on his ship, with his crew, with him. But how long could it really last?

"I just want to get cleaned up. Riding all day was exhausting," You tell him flatly, the fight draining out of you. You feel like you're running away. Maybe you are. Maybe it's all you know how to do anymore.

"Then we can bathe," your husband agrees easily, brushing past you to draw the water in the porcelain tub.

Your gaze snaps to him, but he doesn't look back as he kneels over the golden knobs, testing the temperature of the water. "We," You question, voice half pitching as you step towards the bath.

"We," he echos, "there's nothing to be ashamed of, darling. I've washed your body many times."

You make a noise of protest, "I'm not ashamed."

He shoots you a wiry grin and offers you his hand, "I know, treasure. I would have done something if you were."

It's a habit you didn't realize that was still ingrained in you, when you move to take his hand. He pulls your hand to his lips, and kisses every knuckle. You don't even try to hide the way your gaze rakes over him knelt before you.

He watches you carefully, fingers expertly undoing the laces of your clothes, hands slowly, but devotedly guiding you out of the fabric covering your skin. His eyes scour every inch of you, and you're quick to pull away to step into the tub.

You pretend not to notice the way he exhales softly at the distance between you. You close your eyes and melt into the warm water as he stands, shedding his own clothes. You listen as buckles clank and heavy leathers and metal drop to the floor.

"Love," he breathes out, half asking permission to join you, half giving you time to sort out your thoughts. When you don't acknowledge him, don't tell him to join you or to leave, he tentatively sinks into the water across from you, sending ripples through the tub. He sighs, and you imagine he's just as relieved as you are to soak your sore muscles after a day of riding.

You shift, tucking your knees to your chest. The tub isn't small, but it's hardly designed for two people. His legs brush against yours, even as he tries to keep his distance.

Words unsaid dance behind your lips. Arguments you want to make. Accuse him of only ever taking from you. But you can't find the fire to fight him when his steady presence is actually soothing. His soft breathing fills your ears, and you find yourself opening your eyes to study him.

Jason's already memorizing your features when your gaze settles on him. He's relaxed, leaning against the back of the tub like he doesn't have a single stress in his life.

Maybe he doesn't, not when you're inches away from him and bare. The candlelight and clear water don't do much to hide you from his sight.

You find that incredibly unfair. He should be nervous. He should be as uncertain as you are about all this. But he appears so confident, so in control, you wonder if this was his plan all along.

Your train of thought vanishes when he reaches out to run a line over your shoulder with his fingers. The shape inhale you take has him snapping away immediately.

"I'm sorry, treasure," he murmurs, remorse clear in his tone, "I didn't mean to startle you. I've always found my self-control limited in your presence."

"I suppose that's familiar," You say idly, thoughtlessly rubbing the skin where the feeling of his touch still lingers.

"Aye, I've never been skilled at containing my affection for you," he says, almost regretfully, "Yet it only ever serves to drive you away."

"That's not why–" You start, but your words fail.

His gaze sharpness, and suddenly he feels so big sitting across from you, all encompassing with an aura that demands answers from you.

"Then why," he says your name, and it almost makes you flinch to hear it said so starkly. To hear it instead of one of his many terms of endearments for you, "Why do my actions only ever seem to chase you from me?"

His words seem angry, the tension in his body making him rigid and threatening. But you know your husband well enough to recognize the vulnerability in his eyes, to catch the way his voice breaks and falters.

Longing wells in your throat. You miss him. You miss when your marriage was young and new and you knew he loved you just as much as he knew you loved him. You miss when everything didn't feel so broken.

It's cruel, for both of you, what you do next. But you want so badly to pretend. To act as if nothing has changed. To find security in him. You hope beyond the words you have to express that he understands, that he wants that too.

It's callous, to both of you, when you surge forward to kiss him. Jason reacts like he expected it, it almost makes you angry.

He catches you, greedy and eager and desperate, by the waist. He drags you onto his lap, nipping your bottom lip and kissing you like the entire world depends on it, his entire world depends on it.

Nothing matters past his touch. It's better than all the finest wines, the way his touches distracts you from every thought in your head. It's better than all the coin you could carry, when his hand doesn't hesitate to find your chest.

You press closer to him, straddling his hips as water sloshes against the sides of the tub. Wantwantwant clouds your mind of everything else. You want this. Want him. Want a moment that feels right.

You whine when his lips leave yours, and he trails feverish kisses down your throat and to your collarbone. He nips at your skin, eager to leave evidence of his presence behind.

Jason's calloused fingers twist and pinch at your nipple, and it's sinful that he remembers the exact way your body reacts to him. Neither of you speak, too afraid to break whatever this is becoming.

But when you roll your hips, grind down onto his growing erection with a single-minded purpose, he groans, low and husky and needy. He grinds up into you, a silent plea for more, for you not to stop, for you to never stop.

His fingers leave your chest to trail down your stomach, searching and refamiliarizing himself with the feel of your skin. He sucks at your pulse in the same moment his fingers part you folds, expertly finding your clit to draw steady circles.

Your head falls back as you moan, tangling your fingers into his hair for something to ground yourself to, for something to pull when he starts increasing pressure. He grins as you expose more of your neck and his fingers move faster between your thighs with all the skill and experience he has with knowing your body.

He drinks down every expression you make with a drive to see more, and presses a finger to your entrance slowly, carefully testing your reaction. You yank him back into another bruising kiss in return.

He whines into the kiss, and sinks a finger into your wet, aching cunt. He starts a slow rhythm, and it makes your heart stutter at how gentle he is, how loving.

It's not what you want right now. You don't want soft or nice. You want him to fuck every confusing thought from your head until all that matters is how he full he can stuff you with his cock.

Jason seems more preoccupied on curling his finger against the spot that will make you buck into his hand, on nipping the skin over your pulse. You mewl and grab his wrist, pulling him away from your dripping pussy.

He falters, pulling back to look at you with worry, "Treasure," he starts, and you cut him off with another ravenous kiss. You don't want him to talk, you just want to feel him.

Even if it's wrong, even if it'll only hurt you both when the morning comes, none of that matters when you guide his cock to your waiting cunt. You kiss him harder, swallowing any questions he tries to ask.

His fingers dig into your thighs when you finally sink down onto his stiff cock. It's tricky, to maneuver yourself in the tub, but it's worth all the effort when he lets out a near pathetic whine against your mouth, near shaking in the effort to not jerk up into you.

It's a stretch to take him, more so than you remember, but it's so undeniably good to have him fill you inch by seering inch. He lets out a guttural groan as your walls flutter around him, the sound makes you feel greedy.

You pull back from the kiss to watch his eyes flutter shut, to watch him desperately try to contain himself. "Treasure," he breathes out, voice thick with reverence and desire.

You can't bring yourself to care what he's going to say, not when you're adjusting to the way his dick spreads you wide, not when you're still sinking down into his lap so he can press deeper inside you.

"Taking me so well," he murmurs, "So perfect. Look at you. Never letting you go." He's rambling, praises spilling unchecked from his lips.

You chalk it up to the way you've managed to take him to the base of cock. He ducks his head to shower your neck and shoulders with kisses and bites when you do.

You exhale softly, unmoving as you sit in his lap. Maybe you don't need him to fuck you. Maybe just sitting with him stuffed completely inside you while the water cools against your skin is enough.

That thought is quickly overturned when your husband lifts you by your thighs, and carefully guides you back down in a slow, steady rhythm. It makes your breath hitch and your body sing.

How could you have forgotten how easily he can manhandle you? How could you forget how good it feels when he's seeking your pleasure?

His grip tightens when moans start to fall off your tongue in louder, more desperate cries. His breathing grows ragged as he moves you faster, his hips starting to meet yours in urgent thrusts.

Water splashes out of the tub, but you hardly notice it when Jason babbles into your skin, "Everything, you're everything. Been so lost without you. Feels so good. Need you. Need you so much."

You rock along his length, hands braced against him and hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Even when your body starts to feel like it's floating and your head starts to spin, you find it incredibly unfair he seems so in control of the situation you initiated.

The thought makes you bite down into his throat. Bite down hard.

He jolts and curses, burying himself deep inside you as he cums, unloading his spend into your walls. It makes you gasp, makes you find your own climax and clamp down around him as he repeats your name over and over.

He fucks you through both of your releases, or maybe you're still riding him through it. It's difficult to tell when your vision is obscured by stars and your mouth is open in a soundless cry.

What you do know is that he finished inside you and doesn't seem to have any intention of moving as his hips slow to a languid roll. You wrap your arms around him and try to not shake, head empty and nearly drooling as you rest your head against his shoulder.

Jason presses kiss after kiss to every inch of you he can reach without removing his hands from your skin. It's nice. Really nice. It almost reminds you of your wedding night. You fidget mindlessly with the ends of his hair.

You think you could have stayed like this forever, close to him, wrapped around his half-hard cock. But the moment has to end. You have to end it, lest you lead him on more than you already have, "Waters getting cold," You mumble and slowly pull your boneless body off of him.

He looks reluctant to have you go, and keeps his hands firmly on your hips, "I had hardly noticed, my love. But if you're cold..." He smiles at the squeak you make as he lifts you out of the tub with him.

"Jason," You start when he doesn't set you on your feet right away. He hums in acknowledgment, grabbing a towel for each of you all without ever putting you down.

"Jason," You protest again and he relents, gently putting you down onto the plush carpet by the bed. You don't see the need to cover yourself in the moment, as you dry off your tired body, but the way his gaze devours your movements makes you wonder if you should.

He steps closer to you and you freeze. Suddenly this feels dangerous. Not that you're in danger. But that he's going to say something. Do something. Expect something you don't know how to give.

His fingers brush over your jaw and guide your face up. You meet his eyes with a confidence you don't feel.

He stares at you. You don't know what he's searching for, but you think he finds it when he dips down to kiss you, soft and slow and so sweet it nearly makes your knees buckle.

He walks you backwards till the back of your legs hit the bed frame.

He keeps kissing you as he guides you to lay down in the bed, your body landing on his discarded crimson coat. He kisses his way down your jaw, down your throat, down chest, down your stomach, mapping your skin with his fingers and tongue.

He lifts your legs to rest on his shoulders. His eyes never leave yours as he presses kisses to the inside of your thighs, and works his way to your center.

You realize he's still looking for something, as his gaze stays fixed on yours. You'll forget to ask exactly what when he licks a stripe from your twitching hole to your clit.

Part Six

[tossawary]

I finished Volume 3 of SVSSS, which encompasses the main story, and currently have my bookmark sitting at the first chapter of the Airplane Extras in Volume 4. I took a bunch of quote pics but have yet to review them and add thoughts.

Every time I read SVSSS, I forget how... incredible... the inside of Shen Yuan's head is. He's fascinating.

Like, he's misogynistic (even while criticizing Airplane's own misogynistic writing), he's homophobic, AND he's transphobic. Not in a way where I think he thinks anyone deserves fewer rights than anyone else (I think he's generally a nice person, although, holy shit, I would not trust this man to craft policy of any kind) or would prevent anyone from living however they chose to live, a lot of his problematic bullshit stays inside his own head as he tries to understand the world around him using the stallion novel formulas he was given, but he's carrying around SO MUCH unexamined bias that supports his refusal to examine himself and his own desires.

Some of it reads (presumably intentionally) a LOT like the kind of conflicting, problematic bullshit a lot of queer people carry around inside their heads as they struggle to untangle themselves and their beliefs.

And while I do wish that Shen Yuan had been forced to confront and address his misogyny and transmisogyny even further than it does come up (in part because it is DEFINITELY affecting the way he thinks about gay men as well, including and especially Binghe), I do kind of... appreciate on some level that he thinks this way? From a character standpoint? Because I think it's probably realistic for a privileged young man spending a lot of time on the internet reading shit like PIDW to look at the world this way. And it's clear even through his own narration that his blindness in certain areas is causing him a lot of trouble. While I do have criticisms and personal wishes, I do appreciate the depiction of personal character development that is just... a cringeworthy mess of internalized bullshit the whole fucking time.

Also, it's SO funny to me that he reads as SO aro-ace-spectrum to me (probably gay, but generally detached from sexuality and possibly also partially from gender) AND he actually knows... the word asexual, I don't think he has a very broad understanding of asexuality... but he knows the word and yet doesn't personally identify that way. He mentally accuses both Luo Binghe (main story, before finding out Binghe is into him) and Liu Qingge (Succubus Extra) of being asexual for showing no interest in women, only to fail to reflect on how he ALSO demonstrably has no lasting personal interest in the women around them, which doesn't read as very genuine to me.

(EDIT: Again, I am not against a bisexual Shen Yuan interpretation either! I am willing to be persuaded by any author who wishes to tell a particular story. But Shen Yuan's attraction towards women often reads personally to me as very shallow and possibly insincere.)

"I willingly read PIDW, that proves I'm straight!" he sincerely thinks to himself, even though his favorite wife is the one without explicit sex scenes and he also admits to skipping over a lot of them.

"I'm able to tell when women are beautiful, that makes me straight!" thinks the guy who mentally censors nudity whenever demon women lose their clothes, and keeps telling us how "the average reader" of PIDW would react to these beautiful women instead of conveying his own attracted reactions. His actual reactions are generally centered on a woman's narrative significance. The only people he personally seems to find attractive are Luo Binghe and maybe Liu Qingge.

Though my interpretation was that he does probably experience sexual arousal and have a sex drive (see his username), which probably helps with his conviction of straightness, I'm not sure that there's any mention of Shen Yuan even masturbating at all in the entire main story of SVSSS? He never tried to hook up with anyone. Sex is apparently not a priority for him.

(EDIT: He does seem to enjoy sex with Binghe in the "Bing-mei vs. Bing-ge" Extra. He loves Binghe and likes the closeness and the physical pleasure. I appreciate the indication that they're working on moving on from the AWFUL intercourse pushed by Xin Mo's possession and possibly also the System's Scenario Pusher.)

And Shen Yuan seems to view women as being and behaving Fundamentally Differently from men and gay men as behaving Fundamentally Differently from straight men (as soon as he learns Binghe is into him, he thinks about how Binghe isn't behaving like the characters in his sister's gay, non-con, BDSM erotica novels), seeing everything through the lens of novel tropes, such that he seems to view sex and sexuality and gender as being deeply mixed with a person's personality. So he can't be a gay man, because he's too "Normal", in his mind at first, because he doesn't behave like his own mental image of "How Gay Men Behave" (or "How Women Behave / A PIDW Wife Behaves"), while also demonstrably not being anything like "the average reader" of PIDW and also apparently not caring too much about his own masculinity? Like, I do think he likes being the gentleman scholar of Qing Jing Peak, he does like appearing dignified and strong and cool, he doesn't like losing, he doesn't really like playing "damsel in distress" roles, and I do think he likes being gallant towards women, but he's not too concerned about seriously competing with figures like Luo Binghe or Liu Qingge? He's happy enough to back down and let someone else take the lead if necessary. He puts up with being put into the roles of female leads even if it embarrasses him and he rolls with the punches to his pride easily enough. He seems to have decided his Sexuality By Default, so it does make me have a lot of thoughts about whether or not he's potentially going with Gender By Default / Convenience as well.

Someone get this man some amateur and academic literature on gender and sexuality (and a lot of other stuff), stat, so he can ignore it, probably.