#i personally love the belly when its tucked tight in my trousers

[aleezay11]

My jaw literally dropped

May 2021 November 2024

omg!! i never felt huge until i saw these together

guess how much i gained🥺?

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Horse info 101

A horse girl’s guide to the basics for fic writing with an important and lively horse involved:

This got kinda long I’m kinda sorry but not at all lol 

There's three basic gaits (speeds with different patterns of hoof-fall/leg movements

Walking is the slowest and is a four beat gait, meaning each foot hits the ground at a different time. Usually the same pace as a walking human when the horse is calm. Some breeds can walk HELLA fast though. Most horses will fill the same spot/hole where their front hoof was with their back hoof on the same side. If they overstep they clip their fetlock (joint lookin bit above the hoof) or pastern (bit between the hoof and fetlock) and can injure themselves. 

Now trotting. The middle gait, a person can jog next to a trot at a comfortable pace but if you push them a little horses can trot faster than your average HS track endurance athlete. Once again some breeds can trot HELLA fast. This is a two beat gait in that two diagonally opposite legs are moving in unison. In some english saddles (I’ll get into that later if we have class time) it’s easier to post while the horse is trotting rather than sit for the gait. That just means you stand up in the irons (stirrups on an english saddle, we’ll also cover that later) at the same time that one of the front legs moves forward. 

Also, see how the trotting horse’s head looks? That’s how they travel when they’re relaxed and attentive. The tucked head thing you see Roach doing is because there’s tension on the reigns and Henry learned to ride for an english seat not a western pleasure seat (might get into those but they’re really not important)

Time for the Canter/Lope. This is a three beat gait so that means two legs are moving in unison and the other two are not. Horses canter/lope fast. This is the go-time gait. Some performance/dressage horses are trained to canter extremely slow but if we’re talking transportation trained horses they’re not gonna be that kind of slow. Your average human is not gonna be able to keep up with this for long if at all. This varies in speed too. There's a rather casual canter seen in the gif directly below, then below that is the balls to the wall canter/lope that most horse people just refer to as a run. That’s as fast as they can go.

Basic tack names

Halter + Lead/Lead Rope - these can be made of rope, leather, nylon (more modern) but the halter is generally used for leading and tying.

Bridle - this is the one that you use while you ride, it holds the bit in their mouth. There’s millions of different types of bridles but they’re usually made out of leather even now. sometimes you get rope/nylon ones but I don’t trust them.

Reins - connect to the bit and you use them to steer and control speed. Horses trained in western or one handed riding will ‘neck rein’ which means if you move your hand to the right and the left rein brushes their neck they will move to the right.

Bit - the metal piece in the horses mouth. most english riding bits are broken (joint in the middle) and most western ones are solid. there’s a gap behind the horse’s front teeth and that’s where the metal sits. Some horses have smaller mouths than others and do better with solid bits because the ‘broken’ ones will hit the top of their mouth and hurt. There’s also things called ‘shanks’ on some bits which are just longer pieces of metal that attach to the sides of the pieces in their mouth and point downward. This gives the rider more leverage and makes any tug on the reins stronger. (google “Horse bit shank” if this doesn’t make sense)

Saddle - you sit in it. simple right? wrong. There’s two main types of saddles, Western - with the horn like you see in the running gif, and English- the loping gif without the horn. The saddles used in the Witcher look like the pre-english saddle versions but the basic parts you need to know are the same. The part where you ass goes? that’s the seat. the part right in front of your crotch? That’s the pomel. that’s your ‘oh shit handle’ if anything goes screwy (other than the mane). The part that sticks up and keeps your ass in place? That’s the cantle. I like western saddles SO MUCH MORE but i also grew up mainly riding western so im biased. 

Stirrups/Irons - stirrups and irons are where your feet go. In western saddles they’re called stirrups and they’ve got wider decorative leather flaps (called fenders, also originally added to protect trousers/legs from the horse sweat and the buckles of the cinch) and on english saddles they’re called irons because they are usually made of iron and rather slim. Geralt’s irons look pretty similar to modern ones, slim leather straps, minimal iron (or steel or any other strong metal really). Traditional english riders have knee high boots like you see in regency costumes which removes the need for the fenders like on western saddles. 

Cinch/girth - this is what keeps the saddles on. You take a strap and attach it to one side of the saddle, run it under the belly right behind their front legs and attach it to the other side. Its usually made of a strong fabric with wool or some kind of softer lining for western riding. English riding uses a leather one most of the time though this horse girl hates them because they’re harder to cinch up. English saddles use buckles while Western saddles use another leather strap to run through the chinch/girth buckle and you either tie it off or use it like a belt. 

Chest strap - this keeps the saddle from sliding backwards. It’s attached to both sides of the saddle by buckles and between the front legs its attached to the cinch/girth. this is pretty universal but not always used. Geralt uses one though. 

Saddle pad - goes under the saddle to protect the baby’s back and whithers (spot where the neck meets the back and the mane ends)

Tacking up and untacking takes time. This is usually 5-10 minutes when done at a leisure pace and done right.

Basic grooming

Brush down before tacking up - you don’t want stuff chaffing the pony while you ride

brush after untacking- helps clear skin of irritants and feels nice

Shedding scraper/curry comb to get rid of shedding hair - if you want a pic of these just google them I think I’m close to the pic limit for my post. 

HOOF PICK - keep the baby's feet clean and clear if rocks so they don't bruise but also so nothing get infected

Yes, plz brush their mane it gets MATTED - a hairbrush works but a wide tooth comb is best

Horses roll to itch their backs and clean off, sounds counterintuitive with the dirt but it works

Shaving a little spot for the bridle to sit is pretty modern but it's easier for everyone involved

Horse Colors- guys roach is not brown she’s a chestnut color

The only thing I have to add to this is that the “Leopard” one is called “appaloosa” in the US at least, and “Pinto” is also reffered to as “Paint” and there’s all sorts of different patterns that you can see. also i want a buckskin so bad. yes i was obsessed with Spirit as a child why do you ask?

Travel care of your babies

Horses CAN and have subsisted off roadside grasses and grazing at night BUT it's good for them to get a lil something extra ESPECIALLY if you’re keeping them in a stall at night where they can’t graze.

Hay and grains like cracked wheat, oats, barley and the like are commonly found in horse feed. Also a lil drizzle of molasses is chock full of calories and all my horses LOVE the taste.

also while we’re talking food: some horses cant keep all the juice/bits in their mouth when they eat apples (we fondly call it making applesauce) or other treats/veg. Yes it gets all over your hand, yeah its kinda gross, but there’s worse things.

Shoes. Babe's need horse shoes. Especially if they're walking over rocks and roads.

Throwing a shoe (when it comes off on accident) is painful sometimes and if left un-dealt with can affect their joints and spine. Imagine walking around in one heeled shoe and one athletic shoe all day. Ow.

On that note though, on lighter travel seasons it's nice to give their hooves a break from shoes (also cheaper)

Horse moods:

horse mood ear chart here: I cant add much tbh

If a horse is comfortable/happy/relaxed they will ‘chew’ on nothing. Just kina a little lip smack type deal. My horse’s bottom lip would hang a couple centimeters below his top one when he was relaxed and I would put my chapstick in it while I fussed with other things.

When a horse is uncomfrotable/scared/tense their lips get sealed tight. I call it ‘fish butt lips’ bc they’re watertight and NOTHING is getting in there. 

Stamping hooves can be a few things. Antsy and ready to roll, nervous, deadass scared, or playful/excited. 

A full whinny is communication - saying hi, warning, scared, etc.

the really soft whinny is called a nicker and its my favorite sound okay? that’s little soft communication and its usually reserved for times when they’re comfortable.

When they’re really relaxed they’ll cock one of their back legs kinda how we shift our weight to one hip. 

general fun facts:

Some horses fake limp when they don’t want to work bc they are lazy and smart and realize their person will get off and check them out and maybe even give them a rest. 

You do a preliminary leg injury test by running your hands slowly over their legs and checking for hot spots - inflammation caused by injury is warm

Basic horse saftey is never stand directly in front of the horse if theres a possibility of spooking, if you’re gonna walk behind them walk out of reach of their hooves or right up against that ass. If they cant get a good wind up it wont do as much damage (on that note though I rode/trained horses for 18 years and was only kicked once by a foal). 

It’s kinda common sense not to walk/sidestep between your horses legs and under their belly but we do it all the time bc its a trust thing? adrenaline? its fun?

laying on your horse’s back sans saddle, and facing their butt is so nice okay, that ass is soft and cushy and perfect for a nap. I miss laying on my horses while they ate like this every damn day. 

Horses can sense your moods. Not unlike the whole ‘witchers smelling you’ thing. They can feel a difference in the tension on the reins and in your posture when you’re tense or relaxed.

Some horses will take care of their riders, some are absolute shits and push the limits for funsies. Some horses will only behave for people they’re used to too. Some horses have trauma from being mistreated and will have triggers kinda like people do. We had a horse who would freak the fuck out if anyone walked around with a red had but as soon as you took it off she was the most level headed horse we had.

A good portion of horses (Who aren’t scared of children) will behave better with kiddos or novice riders because they feel they’re nervous.

If they hurt while they’re moving they usually limp but sometimes they’ll buck. It’s their defense mechanism. 

Horses can’t sleep for too long laying down because their body weight will collapse their lungs. Most horses sleep standing up.

They can sit like a dog and it’s hella cute. 

Stung by bees? Most horses will take off at a dead sprint bucking and hopping unless you’ve done a lot of trust work/training with them

They also run and jump and buck and rear to play.

If theres two horses in a pasture together one will chew at the other’s whithers (or anywhere else) to ask them to scratch them the same way. its very cute and they sometimes try this with people.

horses hug. I cry. 

the whole deal with the rider/horse relationship is it’s a mutual trust you’re building. They let you sit on their back and do weird shit and you trust them not to throw you.  

Thank you for coming to class today! If there’s any questions feel free to message me! I’m not kidding I wanna answer your questions and I miss my horses so this is fun for me.

@elliestormfound​ here it is boo! lol 

[noncanonlove]

Happy Birthday, Draco Malfoy

The cake had been cut, the presents opened, and now Draco was alone again. 

In theory it'd been the perfect 40th birthday. 

 The house elves had outdone themselves this year with the cake and he'd been surrounded by all of his friends and chosen family for an amazing meal. The gifts had all been lovely and thoughtful. They'd even all evaporated by his preferred hour of nine o'clock. 

There had only been one thing missing. 

Well, actually, one person.

He hadn’t seen her since he’d asked her to marry him three weeks prior. She asked for time to think about it and while that’d stung, he’d tried to be understanding and had given her space. He knew she wouldn’t leave him waiting forever. Had faith that whatever she was doing, it was of the utmost importance. It wasn’t within her character for it to be otherwise.

The stars twinkled overhead as he sat,enjoying the splendor of the evening with a glass of aged Firewhiskey.

The tumbler was half empty when he felt a presence behind him. He didn’t even have to turn to know who it was. Hermione settled in the seat next to him and before he could utter a single syllable, she’d plonked a small box neatly wrapped in light gray paper and tied together with a dark gray bow.

His eyes moved from her to the box and back. He took a moment to study her. She was wearing his favorite green off the shoulder gown, the pearl earrings and necklace set he’d given her, and a pair of tall black high heels that brought to mind many nights of passion. She was sat straight up with a regal posture that would have made his late mother proud. The only thing that gave her away were the fingers that were pleating her skirting despite how she tried to hide it with her other hand.

A mix of emotions battled for dominance. He wanted to demand to know where she’d been, what she’d been doing, and did she know how destroyed he’d felt the past three weeks? Again, his knowledge of her overcame that aspect by the skin of its teeth. So instead of saying anything, he pulled apart the ribbon as well as the lid.

Inside, on a bed of velvet was a Golden Snitch. His eyebrows furrowed. He had dozens of snitches, even now that he rarely played anymore. He had every single Snitch from every match he’d won except for one. The only Snitch he did not have was the one he’d given to her. She’d lost a wager with him over the outcome and it’d resulted in their first date. When he’d dropped her off on her doorstep with a kiss to the hand, he’s slipped it into her palm “for safekeeping.”

He opened his mouth to ask when a thought interrupted him. Snitches have flesh memory. His teeth clicked when he shut his mouth and he delicately plucked it from the box with his left hand and cradled it in his palm.

In the span of a breath it floated off of his palm opened up to reveal a neatly folded piece of parchment. With trembling fingers and a shaky breath he pulled it free and unfolded it.

I love you. Yes. Was written in her neatest script. He looked over to meet her gaze and found her biting at the corner of her bottom lip. His fingers itched to pluck it free.

“You mean it?”

“Only if the offer still stands.”

“Come here.”

She shot to her feet, only to stumble in the tall footwear. He managed, just barely, to maneuver her into his lap before she hit the ground. 

She brushed her hair back from her flushed face. “Happy birthday.”

He couldn’t stop his chortle. “Thank you. Despite it being my birthday, I think I have something to give to you.” 

He reached inside the tiny pocket of his waistcoat and produced the platinum and ruby engagement ring he’d used when he’d proposed. It was an heirloom, of course, and one of the singular red pieces in the entire collection.

She placed her hand in his and he slid the ring home before squashing her against his chest, burying a hand in her ridiculous curls, and pulling her down for a fierce kiss.

When they finally parted and he’d sucked in a lungful of fresh air, he met her eyes again. “Where did you go?” he whispered.

Now that he had the most life-altering question in his life answered, he had to know what was so important that she would leave him hanging for three bloody weeks.

“Australia,” she replied, just as quietly.

He froze. That meant... “You saw your parents?”

She hadn’t spoken nor seen her parents in twenty years. They’d had many a conversation over it around the anniversary of the falling out. He’d watched her drink herself silly on more than one occasion over it.

“Yes.” The wind ruffled their hair as she assembled her thoughts and clutched his waistcoat with both hands. “I showed up on their doorstep and said that it was high time that we sorted everything out between us. As you know, they wouldn’t even speak to me after they’d gotten their memories back. Had me removed from their property.”

The fingers he’d curled in her hair slid down to run up and down the length of her spine over and over. He’d sit here all night with her if he had to.

She let out a quiet breath before she picked her tale back up. “At first they shut the door on me, but I remained there for two days without moving. Then on the third my mother came out in tears and demanded to know why I’d done what I had. Then for the rest of the time I was there I explained why I’d done it and spared no detail.” Hermione tucked her head against his neck and breathed until the shakiness had steadied out.

“How’d they take it?”

“Poorly. It took them a long times to come to term with the fact that I fought in a war that they’d never have been able to protect me from. It was the first time in my life I’d seen my father cry. It’s something they’re still struggling with but they’re slowly working on it. When I left, they made me promise to call them every week. They’re thinking about coming back to London now.”

“Why did you decide now to go?”

“Because, like I told them, I could not begin my life afresh with the clutter and the shadow of the past hanging over me. My house had to be in order before I joined it with yours.”

He froze. “What did they say?”

He sat back up and looked him in the eye again. “They were angry at first but once that wore off it opened up an entirely new set of questions and conversations. They want to meet you.”

He was forty years old today, he refused to be afraid of a pair of Muggles. “They don’t own one of those rifle things do they?”

“Of course not! I could never imagine my father with a gun even if you implanted the image straight into my brain.” She snorted and then again, but the second time with laughter.

She’d went there to resolve her past. She’d did it for herself, but she’d also done it to start fresh with him. He couldn’t imagine the anguish she’d suffered with the act. The reason of why she’d done it quenched the secret anger and agony that had built up while she’d been away.

He pulled her into another kiss. Everything was going to be fine. She’d conquered her boggart and now she could move forward in life with him. She stroked a line down the buttons of his shirt and he felt the cool brush of her magic as it undid each one.

“Let’s go inside,” she muttered against his mouth.

They made it to the living room before she divested him of both the shirt and the waistcoat before pushing him onto the sofa.

She climbed back in his lap and trailed open mouthed kisses down his throat. Her lips crossed his clavicle and trailed down his chest, pausing to flick her tongue each nipple and eliciting a hiss from him. She explored his abdomen and belly button with that wicked tongue while her fingers unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers.

His mumbles of how she didn’t have to went ignored as she pulled them off of him entirely, along with his socks. He almost never wore underwear, so that was one layer skipped.

She stared at him from her position between his knees as she lubricated her palm and fingers with her tongue. He hissed when she wrapped it around his stiff cock and began slowly to pump up and down. He swallowed hard when she licked her lips and sucked the head into her mouth.

She was warm and wet and perfect as ever as she bobbed her head up and down, suckling him as her hand worked what wouldn’t fit in her mouth. The ends of her curls tickled his thighs as the fingertips of her other hand caressed his bollocks. He threaded his fingers through her hair as she worked him, entranced at the sight.

He’d wanked so much in the past three weeks but now after having his cock in her mouth for less than five minutes he was already on the brink. He tightened his fingers in her hair and gently pulled her off of him before he could embarrass himself. He wasn’t ready to be finished yet.

He leaned forward, reaching behind her and unzipped her dress the entire way before pulling her to her feet. He froze for a moment and drank her in. The dress and heels were all she’d been wearing and now only the heels remained.

He pulled her down onto the couch and maneuvered between her legs. Two fingers slid between her folds and he delighted in finding ample slickness. He began to rub tight circles on her clit as his mouth enjoyed the bounty of her breasts. Her thighs tightened against his as she squirmed and whimpered.

“Please.”

That was all she ever had to say. He lined himself up and slid the tip along her slit before slowly sliding home with one smooth thrust. He grasped one of her hands, pulling it above her head as their fingers laced together. Her other arm pulled him down flush against her as he set his pace. The scent of her was strong in the curve of her neck and shoulder where he worshiped with his mouth. 

“Touch yourself,” he begged. 

When her hand snaked between them to work her clit, his hips picked up the pace, snapping against her with each thrust. His heart slammed against his ribs.

Bum-bump bum-bump bum-bump, love-you love-you love-you.

It wasn’t he heard her breathy cries that she loved him too did he realize that he was mumbling it against her skin over and over and over.

Her walls fluttered around him before she came apart with a shriek, squeezing his fingers and leaving indents of her nails in the back of his hand as she trembled beneath him. Moments later he followed her with a hoarse cry against her skin as he came undone.

Afterwards, when cohesive thought was a thing again, he maneuvered them to where she was tucked between him and the back of the couch, wrapped up in him.

She watched him with hazy brown eyes. “Did you have a good birthday?”

He kissed her fingertips, then her ring finger, then stole one straight from her lips. “It was the best.”

“Love you.” “And I love you. Always.”

[ansgar-martinsson]

The Best Intentions - Part 25

He’d tortured her enough, he’d decided. Enough but not enough. It was never enough. There was always room for more pleasure, more touch, more hedonism, more fucking. Always.

He stood near the foot of the bed, his eyes fixated on her, unmoving as he unbuttoned and shucked his linen shirt, as he whipped the belt from its loops with a loud schuss. His mouth twitched on a whuff of breath - one he let her hear - a wicked rictus of a grin as he watched her. He was the hungry cat crouched in the dark, tall weeds. He was the stealthy hunter, taking in each and every detail, every weakness of his prey.

His trousers fell to his ankles and he kicked them aside. Her head turned toward the sound, a quiet, muffled cry from her throat. He breathed again, letting the air course through his mouth and chest, audible and hollow. She faced him again, another whimper, and the sound of it made Ansgar’s cock flush with blood - even harder than it already was.

She writhed on his sheets. She kicked at the blankets. She moaned loudly and she mouthed the skin of her upper arm, her lips seeking out something, anything… any sensation she could find. She rubbed her thighs together, crossing her long legs one over the other, squeezing her sex tight against itself. He had her, he knew. Anything, she would do anything for him, anything for a touch of him, a sound from him, a taste of him. 

He was her world at that moment and she yearned for him.

And the perfect sight of her, the enticing smell of her enchanted him just as powerfully.

Yes. He’d tortured her enough. He’d tortured himself enough

“I’m here,” he whispered. She gasped at the sound of his voice. “I’m standing here, before you. I’ve removed my clothes, Joline. I’m as naked as you are, and Christ, but my cock is so hard. Painfully hard. Ready for you. Are you ready?”

She moaned, nodding rapidly.

“First things first, however.” 

She groaned in protest.

“Oh, Joline, do be patient,” he said, as if speaking to a petulant child. “You will enjoy this, I promise you.” And with that he set his knee on the bed, followed by his hand, the other knee, and the other hand. 

Her breath stabbed sharp, caught in her throat, and she canted her head back, spine arched, jaw dropped open as Ansgar wrapped his hands around the back of her thighs. “Come now, spread your legs for me,” he said. “There you go. Let me in.”

She brooked no argument, but opened herself widely to him, her legs splayed in a near side split. She cried out again, her breaths coming in anticipatory pants, her head lolled side to side with the waiting. “Mmmmm,” she hummed.

“You’re desperate to say my name, aren’t you?” He caressed her inner thigh with the tip of his nose. “Aren’t you?”

“Mmmm hmmm,” she nodded. She bent her knees to wrap around him, her muscles clenching, her toes pointed, heels pressing into his flank, urging him up up up toward her center. 

He shimmied forward and hooked her legs over his shoulders. A long inhale and the scent of her sex was so, so close to his nose. The fragrance of her want of him shot straight to his cock, his own desire manifesting in a pleasure-painful twitch and a long, deep, involuntary moan. “Joline,” he keened. “You… you are so… so beautiful. So responsive. So… so… so mine.”

“Mmmmmmm.”

He let his breath out through pursed lips, coasting cool dry air upon her heated wet flesh. She jerked. “Aah! Fffffff!” Her hips bucked toward his face, her knees curled tightly around his back, heels shot downward, beyond his arms to press hard into the mattress beneath.

“Say my name,” Ansgar growled. He turned his head and bit, sinking his teeth into the meat of her inner thigh, brushing the edge of his beard against the apex of her pleasure. “Say my name. Tell me you’re mine.”

“Ans - oh… oh… oh….”

“Say it. Say it and I’ll give you what you want. You can do it. Say my name.”

“Sssssssss…. sssssgaaaah!”

“Say my name.” He dug his fingers, claw-like into her hips, holding her steady, holding her fast. Readying her. “Now.”

“Ansgar!”

“Mine!” 

The word, the singular word flew forth on a long, almost demonic growl that grew from the hellish depths of Ansgar’s chest. The lion sprang out of the jungle reeds, then, pouncing, as he rose to his knees, his massive paws clutching her thighs tightly around his head.

He feasted upon her, shaking his head, roaring as his lips and tongue and teeth extolled her flesh. He lifted her hips high off the bed, holding fast to her, his mouth molded and shaped to her - no escape - his tongue scourging her, shoved deep inside of her, curling within, pumping, drawing forth her wailing moans and her desperate cries and her violent tremors and shudders. He latched himself to her, and that same tongue became a fluttering machine, flickering and swirling over the tiny core of her pleasure.

She bucked her hips again, that time with vicious force against his face, her pelvic arch butting against his nose. He growled in pain. She grunted, demanding more of him, More. 

More. More. More. 

He retaliated, biting down hard on the curve of her arse before he set his tongue back in motion, following his bite with a vicious slap on the side of her leg. 

“Ouch! Fuck! Ansgar!” she screeched.

“Hmmmm?” He hummed, the sound inquisitive, interrogative. He held his hand in the air again, just inches from her quivering flank. He wriggled his fingers, the tips of them brushing, tickling with temptation against her skin. “Mmmmm?” He knew she couldn’t see him, but he also knew his intent was clear.

“Yes!” she demanded. “Yes! Do it… hit me again!”

And he did. Harder that time. Much, much harder. Smack! 

“Fucking – Aaah!”

He accompanied the savage blow with a long, ferocious pull of his lips on her swollen, engorged bundle of nerves. He shoved himself into her again, a commanding, guttural grunt the only communication of his stern demand.

And his demand was – Come.

And she obeyed. And she came, her body seized in a shuddering paroxysm of pleasure. The same pleasure with which she painted Ansgar’s mouth, lips and beard in a warm, wet wash … and yes. Oh yes. Yes, she screamed.

Ansgar’s eyes flew open at the sound, at the flood of sensation, the keen observer now intent and fixated upon her mobile, impassioned, exuberant face, visible over the ridge of her hipbone, down the slope of her belly. And as her climax ebbed, as she panted, as her fingers clutched open and closed, as she heaved, desperate to catch air, he lowered her gently back down to the bed, his tongue now an instrument of soothing, a comforting balm for her throbbing sex.

“Mine.”

In the throes of passion, people said anything at all, swearing love, loyalty, all the mundane chores that needed to be done for a week, a month, a lifetime. Promises of fidelity and forever could be uttered and yet proven false with the next partner or possible orgasm, whichever happened first. Joline, in the depths of pleasure or climbing the next high peak, sighed, hummed, groaned, whimpered or agreed, and yes, even screamed. Sentences or words with more than two syllables simply became superfluous noise, distracting from the choir of sensation in her body.

However she understood Ansgar’s single word of ownership, the primary caveman statement clear for her mind clouded by sexual gratification. As confident as she was about the general populace, conversely Ansgar wasn’t the type to lie in the furor of fucking. Not in the bedroom. Passion was his truth serum. He could spin several yarns into quilts to get a woman into bed, but once there all form of pretense evaporated or fizzled when the heat of entwined bodies mounted. He’d told Joline vaguely of his made-up aliases and false monikers that he assumed while traveling in America. He’d also mentioned the other women he’d had.

But she couldn’t imagine the lion reduced to the hollow man, a mere shell from the loss of one woman, creating false declarations while he pleasured another.

Lies didn’t belong in the bedroom. The boardroom, yes, if it got the job or secured another account. The bedroom was different.

Since she was a young girl, Joline never did what was expected of her. She rebelled to define her individuality, to be her own person, to be independent. She chose to move to the states from Sweden at eighteen to spend time with her father and to study abroad. The advantage would be hers in her chosen field and set her apart from her peers. She chose theatre management to avoid the spotlight, she didn’t need the attention when everyone backstabbed each other to move ahead. She dyed her hair black to avoid looking like every other woman in Sweden. She rode a motorcycle, a hobby dominated by the male sensibility.

Ansgar’s shocking declaration of ownership didn’t… shock her. His possession, his claim, his control didn’t scare her… didn’t incite her knee-jerk reaction to deny it. Instead she gave herself over to it, surrendered to his dominance. She didn’t feel the pet or that he saw her as anything less than who she was. She was more, she was his lover, his pleasure. His. It wasn’t disrespect; it was the ultimate respect.

She wouldn’t be jumping into a choker for him, but she found her place in his personal life. His lover.

Ansgar replaced his tongue at her most intimate flesh with his fingers. Languidly, he soothed the pulsating from her body, landing her back down expertly. He dropped open mouth kisses along her thigh, her hipbone, her belly, her ribs, and finally her breast, gracing it with a stinging oral bruise. Her legs fell open in invitation to encourage him to take his pleasure as he climbed her body.

The pulsing pain from his slap and his bite only emphasized and increased the pleasure flowing through her. Ansgar reared back, lined his heavy, heavy flesh with her moist sex, and tucked himself between her folds. The hand that had been there painted swatches of the proof of his ownership of her on her upper lip and then her lower. He laid his fingers over her lips before she licked and settled himself on her, thigh to thigh, sex to sex, stomach to belly, chest to breast.

Ansgar gently ran his hand from her lips along her cheek until he scooped her ear between his thumb and palm, his fingers in the roots of her hair. As she wet her lips with her tongue, he led her into his mouth and a torrid kiss, sharing the taste of her and his influence on her. His claim on her.

Joline willingly arched into his delving tongue, hungrily succumbing to his need for her. Her wrists tested the bit of rope holding her captive to his bed. She didn’t really want the release, only wanted to touch him, comb her fingers through his curls, hold his massive body to her.

His lips mapped the familiar path from her lips to her neck, preparing to lay another mark of his territory. Instead she lifted her knees, resting her feet upon the mattress top, nestling his hips between her thighs. “Take… take what’s yours.”

In that moment, that precious split second, he regretted blindfolding her in the first place. As much as he enjoyed being her world and her entire present, he missed her defiance, her challenge, her streak of rebellion that made her that much more delicious when she acquiesced to him. He growled in frustration, in disappointment as he ripped away the strip of black silk from her head. She blinked, focusing on his eyes hovering above her, confusion blooming in her arousal.

“Say it again,” Ansgar demanded on a barely contained roar.

Joline deciphered beyond his words and recent action to the motivation behind it, what he needed, what he craved. She flicked her eyes between his, bricking up her savvy nature. She craned her neck, recalling her spite and her dare, her lips outlining his. “Take. What’s. Yours.” Her whisper spiked the whiskers of his beard, caressed along his flesh, and set his entire being into fuck mode, must-fuck-now.

On another animalistic roar, Ansgar’s hip retreated back to angle himself into her body and snapped forward, impaling her on his sex. She gasped at the brutal claim, but reveled in his wicked treatment of her. He fucked her hard and fast, seeking the last of his claim on her. He shoved his knees behind her buttocks, lifting her up, spreading her out, and hitting the deepest, hottest, wettest spot within her. Propped up on his palms beside her shoulders, he rammed as sharply and as quickly as he could. Her body fluttered, fitted and clutched around him, reeking every ounce of pleasure from him.

Joline concentrated on the pounding of her heart and the pounding of her blood and the pounding against the spot within her where Ansgar produced bursts of white sparks within her field of vision. With a flick of his wrist he released her arms from the wrap of rope just to feel her wrap around him, take him in so entirely within her. Despite the shaking strain within her abused arms, she tucked her hands behind his neck and brought him down to her, forehead to forehead, their bodies creating a circle of space between them.

Stealing breath for breath upon each hammering thrust, they raced each other to rapture. When it finally came, fireworks exploded.

[eeveedel]

Ahhh I love the newest louis/alex drabble! Can't wait to see more from the two of them. If you're still taking prompts I'd love to see something about the first time they realized they liked each other as more than just friends

This is a short lil fluffy smut-free thing but I still hope you enjoy it. This is part three of this oncoming verse and here’s part one and part two. 

This one takes place about three years before the events of the first two drabbles and thus three years before the events of Dunkirk. Warnings for allusions to period typical homophobia and apologies for any errors, I do these drabbles unbetaed x 

*

The paper bag in Alex’s hand crinkled as he walked down the street, the thickness of the summer air pushing down hard on his shoulders and making his shirt stick to his back and underneath his arms.

It wasn’t even close to getting dark despite being closer to evening than afternoon, and Alex really should’ve gone straight home to the four-person shared room he rented during the summer while the university was out. His hands reeked of the smell of medicine, marred from another day working at the pharmacy, shoveling pills and tonics into bottles or ringing up orders for customers.

He rounded the corner and made his way to the small corner store, the place he used to go just for a few random groceries, but now he was there nearly every day, trying to stagger some of his visits to different times, sometimes just waiting outside, always having a different excuse prepared and ready for why he was there.

He should go home. But once a month, the paper bag in his hand gave him a decent excuse to be here, and he wasn’t about to waste it.

Alex pushed his way into the shop, letting the bell above the door ring loud and clear. Mrs. Lawrence still ran the store, but she was nearing ninety and did her managing from a chair at the back of the shop, so when he walked in, he was only greeted by one person, who was standing on a step stool restocking some front shelves and who turned at the sound of the bell.

“Hi,” Louis smiled, and then dropped his hands from the shelf as he climbed back down the step stool

“Hi,” Alex returned, and then held up the bag, “I have your medicine,”

“I know,” Louis laughed, “I expected that much,”

Louis went over to him, taking the bag and folding down the top of the bag even tighter, and then wandered to the front counter of the shop, scribbling in the employee ledger that usually only he filled out.

“She’s asleep,” Louis said, “I’ll just go put this upstairs and I’ll be right back, alright?”

Alex nodded, and Louis smiled again and then wandered to the very back of the small shop and then to the back door that led to the stairs that would take him up to the small apartment above the store that Mrs. Lawrence had let him rent out of his pay.

Louis didn’t talk about it much anymore, but he had stayed here when his family had moved away a few years ago and left him in the dust. This was what he had left, now.

That, and Alex’s insistence that they see each other as many afternoons as they could when they were both in town.

He had met Louis when they were kids, didn’t bother to speak to him until years later, and then kept him close right up until he went off to uni on his grandfather’s inheritance and wrote him letters after. He liked Louis, and not many other people seemed to give him the time of the day, so Alex always made sure that if Louis had a story to tell, or a frustration to talk about, or was just in need or company, Alex gave him his time.

There were other reasons Alex snuck to him so tight. He just couldn’t quite say those aloud yet.

Louis came down the stairs not too much later, wearing a fresh shirt and carrying a jacket he wouldn’t need in this heat.  

“Do you have to get home soon?” he asked.

“Not really,” Alex shrugged, “My shift’s over now and I’m not making dinner,”

He probably would’ve given him the same answer even if he did have to get home, but for tonight it was the truth.

“Good,” Louis smiled, “Let’s go for a walk,”

*

“A walk” always meant the same thing.

There was a park in town. It was a joke of a thing; the grass was dead and the trees were skinny and not even kids would come to play, but Louis liked it for whatever reason, and Alex would go where he would follow.

It only took them a few minutes to reach the park, and then another few to reach Louis’s favorite spot, the opposite side of a small slope of a hill. It was properly getting dark now, the sky changing its mood quickly. Louis settled into the grass, propping himself back on his elbows, and Alex sat next to him.

“How was your day?” Alex asked. Every day, it was the same question, and Louis snorted.

“Just fine,” he said. Again, it was always the same answer.

The bugs droned in the distance, and Alex closed his eyes and took a breath, feeling like he could swim in this heat. Louis was a healthy distance away form him, but he could feel him there, could sense his movement and the rise and fall of his chest even from far away.

He had spent too much time with him. Sometimes Alex would be in class hours away and still think he could feel Louis’s breath inside his own chest.

“When do you leave me again, huh?” Louis asked, and it was enough to make Alex open his eyes and look over.

“School starts first week of September,” he said, “I’ll probably head in a week before,”

“Mm,” Louis hummed, “That’s what, a month for us?”

“Give or take?”

“I’d take a few more days if you’re offering,” Louis said, and Alex smiled and shook his head.

“This town is shit without you,” Louis said softly, “I don’t wanna think about you not being here anymore,”

“Could take you with me,” Alex said easily. The words always came easy with Louis, “Pack you in my trunk, let you sleep in my room,”

“And what?” Louis grinned, “Hide when you brought a girl home? Tuck myself up in your chest of drawers?”

Alex’s breath hitched and he shook his head, his voice hardening.

“Haven’t brought a girl home in a long time,” he said, and Louis snorted and shrugged.

“Then I guess this plan is seamless,” he said, and Alex laughed, but it sounded hollow in his ears.

Louis turned forward, letting out into the sad, dead landscape of the park, and Alex should’ve moved his gaze away to look forward, too, but instead he found himself fixating on Louis’s profile. The sun was still out, enough to reflect off the slope of Louis’s nose and the height of his cheekbones and the slight pout of his mouth. His hair was freshly cut, close to his ears but still long over his eyes, and Alex wondered, not for the first time, if it was soft.

Louis was beautiful.

He had thought that for a while, and he still felt his belly surge when he thought it. It was a thought that was wrong to have, he’d sat through enough Catholic services and heard enough chatter from his classmates to know that much. But he couldn’t stop the thought. It was there. He could barely remember how it had started. Maybe it was when he was fourteen and they went swimming together in the public pool for the first time, or when he was eighteen and Louis had nearly given his bum heart an excuse to implode when he had sprinted to tell Harry good-bye at the station. Maybe it was earlier than that, when Alex was six years old and saw Louis for the first time in a schoolyard. He couldn’t trace the start, the first raindrop. He just knew he was in the midst of a storm now.

Louis didn’t flinch, didn’t look back over at him, and part of Alex was glad, but part of him wished he would look over, give him a knowing smile.

Alex had less than a month of staying here before the semester started again. For now, Louis would be here, working in that shop and tucking away what cash he could. But one day, Alex could come home and Louis might be gone. He deserved as much, but one day, he might be standing outside that shop, waiting for his beautiful, forbidden face to appear, and he would never get it.

The thought made his chest tight. He could chase it away; that wasn’t now, that wasn’t even soon, and Louis was here now and he was beautiful and they were sitting in the summer heat in an empty park and it was fine, it was all fine.

But the thought wouldn’t leave him, and soon Alex felt himself move, until his hand shifted and settled between them in the grass, close to Louis’s leg. A bit too close.

He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, coupled with the hammering of his heart.

If he listened closely, he could hear Louis breathing, too.

He could pull his hand back right now and say it meant nothing, but the fact it was there, and there for so long, now, meant that it did mean something.

Louis could slap him and spit in his house and tell the whole town about him and Alex would deserve it, but the fact he didn’t do that had to mean something, too.

But Alex didn’t dare more any closer.

Not when his hand right there was already something big, and coming closer…

That was something massive.

Then, he heard Louis breath in, and his voice came softly, so dangerously soft.

“You gonna put that hand anywhere useful?” he murmured.

Alex’s breath hitched, and when he looked over, Louis was looking straight at him, his mouth straight, his eyes wide, his bottom lip shifting. Shaking.

He knew. He knew what Alex and had done, and he wasn’t mad. He was welcoming it, and Alex barely had time to take in what that meant for him and his lingering thoughts. He was already thinking what this meant for Louis. He was taking a risk, too, in acknowledging it. In asking for something else.

Alex let out a breath, let the tension in his chest release for one brief moment.

He kept his eyes close on Louis’s, and then he let his hand drift closer, until his fingers were curling against the fabric of Louis’s trousers. Louis closed his eyes, his exhale so loud in Alex’s ears, and then he bobbed his head, nodding.

“No one ever comes here,” Louis said softly, still not looking up, and Alex knew what he meant.

No one ever bothered to come here. No one would see.

So he let his hand shift over Louis’s thigh and tighten on the inside of his leg. Louis’s breathing hitched and his eyes cast down, looking at Alex’s fingers on his thigh, and Alex didn’t dare move to do anything else. This already felt like too much.

Louis still wasn’t looking at him, and Alex felt like he hadn’t been able to see Louis’s eyes for years instead of seconds.

“You fancy me, huh,” Louis said softly. Still so softly. A fragile type of soft that was in danger of breaking.

Alex swallowed, and his fingers shifted on Louis’s leg.

“Yeah,” he said.

He didn’t try to add anything else. Didn’t try to say “I think so” or “Maybe” or “I’ve been trying to figure it out. Trying to think maybe it’s your eyelashes or your hips or your voice or the parts of you that are so like a girl, but it’s not that. Because I fancy your hard shoulders and the bulge in your throat and your laugh and your smile and you, it’s just you that I fancy.”

He didn’t say any of that. But Louis nodded, like he could understand everything Alex couldn’t dare say.

And then he lifted his head, and Alex finally got a flash of his eyes, like a slice of summer sky.

“You gonna kiss me or leave me waiting?” Louis asked, and his voice was maybe a bit stronger now, but if anyone would have been around, his words still would’ve been drowned out by the crickets and mosquitoes and the one owl that always seemed to come out too early.

Alex didn’t think he could remember how to breath.

Louis shifted, and Alex’s hand molded over his thigh, tucking into the inside of his leg, his fingers feeling Louis’s warm skin through his trousers. Louis’s hand lifted up, tucked itself against Alex’s chest, right over his hammering heart and his useless lungs. Louis’s fingers pushed into his skin, enough to ground Alex and make him look up and into Louis’s eyes again, which were so, so close now, closer than he had ever been.

“I don’t – “ Alex said, and then swallowed, “What do I do if I wanna kiss you? Afterwards?”

Louis just blinked, once, shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Alex swallowed, nodded. It was so hot. So hot and so quiet and so normal. Like every other evening where his life hadn’t changed in a moment, in the touch of a hand, in an offer too good to pass up.

He felt himself moving forward, and then Louis was moving forward, too, and Alex had the good sense to open his lips just a bit right before they connected, and then he was kissing Louis and Louis was kissing him.

Here was the thing.

It could have been nothing.

Because Louis’s lips…they just felt like lips. Alex knew what those felt like, knew the movement of chapped, wet skin on his own. But this was Louis, and somehow, that made all the difference. He felt like he could taste Louis’s laugh on his lips. With each movement of Louis’s mouth, he could remember seeing him the first time, the second time, and every time after that.

He finally pulled away because his lungs were burning, robbed of air not for the first time, and he panted and shook his head, looking up at Louis, meeting his eyes, perfectly round now. Louis’s gaze flickered to Alex lips and then he looked back up.

“What do we do now?” Alex asked, and Louis looked at him steadily.

“Kiss me one more time,” he said. Alex opened his mouth, about to tell him that that wasn’t a real plan, but Louis shook his head hard.

“If you get scared and run off and never see me again, I’ll forgive you,” Louis said firmly, “But I want one more thing to remember you by,”

Louis was shivering, now, and Alex was damn sure it wasn’t because of the weather.

He grabbed Louis’s jacket from where it was resting in the grass, draped it over his shoulders, and then drew him close to his chest.

“Louis,” he said firmly, “I would never do that,”

The other boy didn’t speak, and Alex squeezed him tighter.

“I’ve liked you for a fair long while,” he said, “Not gonna let go of you now that I’ve got you,”

Louis stilled in his arms, lifted his chin enough to meet his eyes.

“A while, huh,” he said, and Alex nodded.

“Then show me that,” Louis said. His voice was hard but still shaking, his eyes firm but still open, and Christ, Alex had Louis’s beautiful, fragile heart nearly cupped in his hands, but Louis had his, too, and he didn’t have a choice of what to do next, but even if he did he still would’ve moved forward to kiss Louis again.

His mouth still tasted like laughter and Alex’s daydreams, and Alex’s hand was still on the inside of his thigh, and he felt Louis exhale against his lips, his muscles relaxing against him.

This time, when he pulled away, Louis went to rest his chin on Alex’s shoulder, keeping his body pressed tight against him.

“You ever kiss another bloke?” he asked softly, and Alex shook his head.

“No,” he said, “You?”

“Once,” Louis admitted, and Alex started a bit, tightening his hold on Louis’s back.

“Once?” he parroted, and Louis nodded, his chin bobbing against his shoulder.

“Why do you think my parents packed up and left me here?” he asked.

His voice was soft and didn’t even sound bitter, but Alex gasped softly and gripped him harder.

“Oh, Louis,” he said.

“Don’t you go feeling sorry for me. That’s long past now,” Louis said, his voice muffled in Alex’s shirt, “You’re more handsome than the other bloke I kissed. I just thought you’d like to know,”

Alex couldn’t find it in him to laugh.

Louis had been left behind, and now he was in his arms, and Alex wasn’t about to let go of him.

“Maybe I won’t go to uni next year. I’ll stay here with you,”

“Maybe I’ll smack you in the mouth if you even think about giving up on that for me,” Louis said, and then pulled back, looking at him full on, “Really, though. If you get the hell out and don’t even come back, at the very least I finally got to figure out how your mouth feels,”

Alex’s mouth twitched, growing into a smile.

“You’ve been thinkin’ about me then?”

“No shit,” Louis sighed, “You’re the worst kind of pretty, you know that? Know you’re pretty,”

“Pretty enough to kiss me again?”

Louis snorted, his mouth straightening.

“We’re tested our luck too much tonight,” he said, “I can try to give you that some kiss some other time,”

Alex blinked at the boy in front of him, his features dark now in the lost sunlight, and he swallowed hard.

“There’s gonna be another time?”

“I’ll be really fucking pissed if there’s not,” Louis said.

Alex laughed and shook his head.

“We gotta figure out what to do now,” Alex said, “Gotta figure out what to do next now that I kissed you,”

“Right,” Louis nodded, and then quickly looked ahead of him, blinking out at the span of the park for so long Alex thought he was thinking over their whole future, counting out the days and years and planning every one of them.

And then he turned back and smiled.

“Walk me back home,” he said, and Alex nodded.

“I can do that.”