#types of stirrups

[shreetmtbars]

Discover the essential role of stirrups in construction. Learn about their benefits and the different types available, ensuring structural stability in various projects. Dive into this detailed guide by Shree TMT for expert insights.

[tata-tiscon]

Buy Tata Tiscon's Superlink Stirrups Bar Online At Best Price

Buy Tata Tiscon superlink stirrups bars online for superior quality & interlocking technology. It helps to save construction time and space on the sites.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

oh btw having a "natural seat" on horseback basically means you balance well and move naturally with the horse

[gymleggings]

Leggings trends 2024: Know More About Your Favorite Bottomwear

Striking, comfortable, practical, and versatile, leggings are a must-have for almost every woman on this planet. Do you like wearing them to the extent that you own a crazy collection? If you answered yes, you will be happy to know about these legging trends that are all set to rock 2024!

Give a 1 minute read at the blog: https://www.gymleggings.com/leggings-trends-2024-know-more-about-your-favorite-bottomwear/

[daydreams-after-dark]

SMUT WARNING // MDNI ⚠️ scientist!Chan (Chris) x test subject fem!reader

Scientist Chan Masterlist

Part 1 of ∞

Scientist Christopher is doing experiments on making pussies come. He has a range of devices (vibrating devices) that he uses on his subject each night, and you’re his favourite subject.

Approx 5 minute read

Unhinged level 🤡🤡🤡

CW: master/sub type role, sex experiments, sex toys, praise, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, cream pie.

Every night he sets you up on the bed that’s situated in his office and gets you to spread really wide, sometimes putting your legs in stirrups. It always starts with a “hole inspection” before moving onto the “stimulation phase”.

Sometimes he uses a small and intense vibrating device on your clitoris, with no other stimulation, and he doesn’t take it away after you come.

Sometimes his goal is to make you come as fast as possible.

Other times he sees how long he can edge you, using a variety of devices. He watches intensely, taking notes on how the stimulation affects you. It usually reduces you to a whimpering, begging, mess.

And sometimes he wants to see how many orgasms he can get out of you. The record is eleven.

But tonight when you arrive he wants to try something completely different. Instead of having you lay on the bed, he gets you to sit on his desk, legs spread wide for him.

You notice he looks unusually disheveled and flustered tonight, as he lowers his chair so his face is at a better level to view your pussy.

“As usual let’s start by seeing how wet you are. Prop your feet up on the desk.” He taps the top of the desk. You comply. You’re so exposed, as usual. And you’re wet, as usual.

“Fuck!” Chris whispers as he spreads your pussy lips apart and runs the pad of his thumb against your opening and dragging it up to your clit.

You moan and lean back on your elbows. “Fuck, Sir… feels good.” You whimper.

Chris looks up and meets your gaze and you can’t help but beg with your eyes for him to make you come.

“You know,” he says quietly and licks his lips as his eyes go back to your dripping pussy. “There’s still something we need to check that we haven’t checked before. Do you know what that could be?”

“N-no… I don’t, Sir.” You stammer.

Chris slides two fingers inside your cunt and starts to dig against your gspot. You cry out at the sensation. It immediately brings you so close to climaxing.

“We need to see if this pussy can take cock.” He said matter of factly, removing his fingers and leaving you feeling empty. Empty and fucking desperate.

“I need to see if it can be done? Can we try?” He asks. He always asks when introducing a new stimulus.

You nod profusely. “Yes sir… please… see if it can take cock.”

Chris stands up in front of you and unbuckles his belt. You have never seen his dick, but you’ve seen the bulge in his trousers countless times before when he’s worked his experiments on you.

Your eyes widen when you see it. Thick. Long. Full. Veiny. How the fuck was it ever going to fit?

“We need to go slowly to ensure you stretch properly. Just relax for me. Can you do that for me?” He says gently stroking your inner thigh with one hand and the other pumping his cock.

“Mmm-hmm. I’ll try..” You say.

“Good girl.” He replies lining the head of his cock up to your cunt. He doesn’t penetrate you. He knows how your body responds to sexual touch. He knows it won’t take long to prep you enough for penetration. The question is, can you take all of him?

Chris reaches into the top drawer of his desk and brings out his strongest bullet vibrating device and places it over your clit. It only takes a moment for your body to respond. You are already starting your tremble. Your arousal is leaking onto the desk.

Chan hums in approval as your pussy clenches and releases as though it’s trying to suck him inside.

“I-I’m going to push inside… ready?” The usually composed Chris was showing signs of desperation. He’s imagined what it would feel like to have you wrapped around his cock for a long time now. How would feel? Warm? Wet? How tight would you squeeze him? What would your pretty little hole look like with his cum oozing out of it.

“Please…” you squeak, bringing Chris out of his thoughts. He won’t have to wonder any longer.

He squeezes the head of his cock into you. Just the tip, and pauses. The stretch is intense already.

“More… please… need more.” You cry. Chris raises an eyebrow “So this is what babygirl needs, hmmm. To be filled with cock.” He puts the vibrator on the desk, then pushes the underside of your thighs wide with his hands to give him as much access as possible. “I need to see if you can take the rest in one go. I’m going to push in the whole way.” His eyes flick up to meet yours for consent.

“Yes. Fill me up, Sir.” You have no hesitation. You need him.

“Okay. Relax for me.” And he pushes his entire length into your cunt. “There you go. There you go…big stretch…that’s it…good girl.”

It’s the best pleasure-pain you’ve ever felt. Chris’s cock stretching your walls and kissing your cervix is nothing like you’d imagined. He is so deep inside you. His hips pressing against your body. Connected so intimately.

For a moment Chris remains still. “Very good… Your pussy can accommodate cock rather well.” He states looking down to where your bodies are connected. “Now we need to check how hard your pussy can take it.”

Fuck! Just that sentence alone makes your insides burn and you involuntarily clench around Chris’s cock. He smirks, taking a mental note of your reaction. He knows you like dirty talk from previous experiments, but he wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it with him buried inside of you.

“Ready for me to move?” He inquires. He’s using all his self control to wait until you’re ready. You sit up, taking Chris by surprise, and reach up to the buttons on his shirt. Your faces are so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek. He looks down to watch your hands unbutton his shirt and pull it off his shoulders, tossing it to the floor. You gasp at the sight of his body and explore his toned muscles with your fingertips. Chris is as still as a statue and hard as stone inside you.

You slowly lift your gaze to find he is staring at your lips. Your hands find the back of his neck and you bravely bring your mouth to his. Chris moans at the softness of your lips. You slowly push your tongue into his mouth. It’s your turn to explore him. He knows your body so well, but this - kissing, fucking - it’s new to you both.

Chris kisses you back fervently and pushes you to lay down on the desk, him still attached to your mouth and your cunt. He starts to move inside of you. Slowly withdrawing and sinking back in. Slow and deep. His hands slide underneath your t-shirt finding your bare beast and he groans as he squeezes it. His mouth kisses every inch of skin on your neck. It’s like the floodgates have opened and he can finally show you how he feels. That you’re his favourite test subject.

Your moans and whimpers echo around the room. You’re desperate for Chris to ruin you.

“Y-you need to f-find out how h-hard I can t-take it.” You manage between heavy breaths.

Chris stops kissing you and leans up to take a good look at you. “You’re right.” He stands up and pulls you closer to the edge of the desk. “Let’s see how hard you can take it.”

You aren’t prepared for the intensity - the brutality - of his thrusts. Each one knocking the breath out of you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, babydoll. So wet too. You should see the cream on my cock.” He grunts.

All you can do is cry, pant and moan as you have your brains fucked out. His thrusts push you across the desk.

“No baby, you’re not going anywhere.” He growls grabbing your legs and pulling you back towards him. Bending your legs to fold you practically in half, Chris continues to pound against your cervix. He brings a hand to your stomach and presses down to apply more pressure around his cock. This in turn allows his cock to press against your gspot.

“F-fuck!” You arch your back off the desk. “I’m so s-so close.”

“Hold your legs up for me pretty girl.” Chris instructs. Then you feel vibrations on your clit. The vibrator. Your eyes roll onto the back of your head as your legs shake and your cunt pulsates. “I’m fucking coming!” You scream, and as your orgasm hits you squirt all over the vibrator, Chris’s hand and his cock.

Chris doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down. He doesn’t remove the vibrator. He just fucks you even harder. The overstimulation brings tears to your eyes, but the impact of Chris’s thrusts dull the discomfort, and after another moment you find yourself coming again, making you cry out even louder than before.

Chris grunts and growls and then finally stills. Then you feel it, his cock pulsating inside of you as he paints your insides with his hot cum.

He pulls out while you’re still catching your breath, and crouches down so he can watch his cum seep out of your swollen pussy. He hisses through his teeth. “So fucking hot.” Then with two fingers, he pushes his cum back inside your cunt.

“You need to keep this inside of you okay. Let’s not let it leak out too much or I’ll have you keep filling you up.”

You sit up, making the cum ooze out again.

“You did that on purpose.” Chris’s tone is unamused, but there is a smirk on his face.

“Whoops. You’re going to have to repeat the experiment, fill me up again.” You taunt playfully.

“Hmm. I think you’re ready for us to move on to the next phase of the experiment.” He said, ignoring your brattiness. “Next time we will see how your pussy takes it in various positions. Then after that perhaps seeing if it can take two cocks at once. I have a fellow scientist who I think will be perfect for the job.”

…

Part 2 In this installment, he explores your reaction to various sexual positions, and introduces anal penetration while on a video call with Professor Lee Minho

This is a slight rework of an older story I wrote. It may be familiar to some.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina

@wolfennracha @chuuchuu1224

If you’ve been tagged twice I’m so sorry, but I’m having tumblr problems with getting tagging to work.

@3rachasdomesticbanana

@palindrome969

@xxkissesforchanniexx

@fun-fanfics

[dammn-dean]

Unexpected Pt. 2

Pairing: Simon Riley x Female Reader

Words: 2700+

Warnings: Pregnancy, vague birth talk, mild panic attack, if I missed anything sorry

(Honestly I have given birth in a hospital, but it was complicated so I didn't get to experience a normal after birth situation. So if this is incorrect, sorry!)

Here is part two🖤 Hope you all enjoy it! It's a bit short, and sweet. I do plan on doing some blurbs/continue eventually. Thank you all for reading!

Part One

Beautiful art/rendering from @ave661

The next few moments are a blur to you both, for different reasons. Simon parks the car in front of the emergency entry, barely allowing for the car to come to a complete stop before he’s out of the car. You barely register as he slides on a black surgical mask when he comes around the car to open your door. Next thing you know he’s leading you inside, talking to a woman at the front desk and getting you into a wheelchair. You are filling out some paperwork as you are wheeled through the hospital, in between contractions that are consistently spaced apart now. 

Simon keeps murmuring small words of encouragement to you, but he’s scared shitless. Pretending to be brave in this moment for you, yet he feels anything but brave. 

There are a lot of questions that you give answers to as best you can. Simon can barely keep up… there is so much moving around and plans being spoken between nurses. The next thing he knows you are in a hospital bed, donning a gown, being told your doctor should be here within 5 to 10 minutes. 

“I’m going to check your dilation now, okay?” A young and sweet woman that is apparently your nurse for now speaks up. 

You just nod your head, watching as she gets the stirrups ready for your feet to go in. Once ready she guides your feet to the correct sport before reaching for a pair of gloves. 

You glance up to Simon, who is as quiet and still as a ghost. Standing to the left of your bed, fists clenched so tight you wonder if his fingers are going to lose feeling soon. 

“Si?” You question. 

That breaks his stone resolve. It was like a switch flipped in him, as he forced his mind to catch up with what was happening. 

He finally tore his eyes away from the nurse as her hand began to disappear under your gown. When his eyes fell to you and your outstretched hand he immediately grabbed your smaller hand into both of his large ones. Kissing the back of your hand through the material of the mask. 

“You ‘kay love?” Simon was gentle, from his touch to his tone. 

“Yes… just a little uncomfortable,” you said just above a whisper. 

“I bet so sweetheart.” He brought a hand to brush some hair back from your face. “You are doing great,” he encourages you. 

“Looks like you are about 5 centimeters dilated! Great news mom and dad.” The nurse tore off her gloves and put them in the trash before typing away on the computer in the room to update your chart. 

Simon felt all of the air rush out of his lungs. Dad?? How did he not think before that he was about to be a dad. Sure… he understood what was happening, but there was something about hearing this nurse call him dad that struck a chord with him. His ears filled with static and he stiffened all over again. 

You watched as his pupils shrunk, he pulled his hands from you and stood straight as a board beside you. 

“Simon?” You softly called to him. Nothing. 

His eyes were trained on the wall behind the nurse who was innocently typing away on the computer. 

You called for him two more times, watching his chest speed up with more and more rapid breaths. You said his name one more time quite loudly, which got the nurses attention. She looked up at him, staring past her and noticed the signs of a panic attack blooming in him. 

Simon wasn’t in the room with you now, his mind lost on his past. 

“Sir?” The nurse gently started working her way to him. 

Before she could fully make it to him, a contraction started up for you again. You wailed out in pain, and as quick as Simon zoned out and started panicking he stopped. Hearing your pain pulled him from his dark mind. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, truly embarrassed. 

“It’s okay sir,” the nurse spoke softly. “Would you like to sit down for a moment?”

“I’m fine, just make sure she’s okay.” He left no room for argument. 

Resuming his spot at your side, ignoring whatever that was just happening to him. He gently kissed your hairline through the mask again while speaking to you sweetly until the pain subsided. Once your breath had started evening out your tired eyes fell onto Simon. The nurse nodded at him before finishing typing what she needed and mentioned the next steps that would be happening before excusing herself from your room for a moment. Her words went in one of your ears and out the other for you.

“You okay?” You asked, squeezing his hand this time to comfort him.

“Don’t you worry about me, love,” Simon said apologetically. 

You gave him a nod, but internally you were freaking out about his reaction. Your mind rolled back a few moments before he started panicking, trying to figure out what happened. 

Simon has had a few moments in your time together where certain things trigger him, which is beyond understandable. The memory of the nurse calling you mom and dad moments before finally registering with you. That small thought had your heart instantly feel heavy, and not in the best way. 

You felt your eyes get glossy, this same feeling of shame bursting through your chest. Your mind reminding you how unfair this all is to him, he never got the choice about IF he wanted to be a father… hell you didn’t even give him a notice that he was going to be a dad. Your brain was all muddled, but the only thing standing out to you is that you can’t remember why you never told him. It all seemed so silly now, who cares if you had an argument. Who cares that he was working. It was your responsibility to tell him that you were pregnant, to let him know that he was going to be a dad, and especially to give him the option to be involved or not. 

You gently removed your hand from his, allowing it to fall into your lap with your other hand. Eyes falling to your lap, unable to stop the tears from falling and trying your best to shield them from Simon. Even though you knew he would notice, how could he not?

“Are you hurting? Want me to call for the nurse?” Simon got the words out quickly, reaching for the button to call the nurse.

“No.. I’m okay,” you whispered with a shrug.

His brows frown down at you, clearly you aren’t okay. Your small sniffles provide proof of that. Simon’s spine straightened, eyes taking you in as his mind moved a mile a minute trying to come up with a solution. 

“Do you remember at the apartment, the promise you made me?” Simon asked softly.

You sniffled out a small “Yeah..”

“That if you have something you need to tell me, you will do it. Yeah?” 

You nod your head softly before meeting his eyes briefly.

“What is it baby?” He asked, hand reaching into your lap and interlocking your fingers together.

“I’m just so sorry,” you respond quietly. “And I know you told me to stop saying sorry but I truly am.”

“Love,” Simon began, but you cut him off. “I didn’t give you the opportunity to come to terms with all of this. I just sprung it all on you, and-”

Simon knelt beside you, making him eye level with you. 

“Do I wish I would have known before? Sure love… but mainly because I hate you have done all of this alone. It eats me alive. I am supposed to be the one taking care of you, but I was selfish. Never made sure you knew what you were to me. I will never let that happen again, okay?”

“Then what just happened to you?” You whisper. His hazel eyes squint a little, but they never leave yours. 

Simon was silent for a while which heightened your anxiety. That’s when the beginnings of another contraction started. Your hand squeezing Simon as you rode through the pain. You barely register his voice, soft and sweet, talking you through the pain.

“Don’t you worry about that sweetheart, but after this. And we have our baby… I will be sure to explain everything to you okay? All you need to know is I am here, and I can’t wait to be a father to our child.” Simon knew he owed an explanation, but now wasn’t the time.

Simon tugged his mask down enough so he could press a kiss to your hairline while using his free hand to wipe away the last few tears from your wet cheeks.

“Good evening,” your doctor enters the room and announces himself. 

Simon gently clears his throat as he straightens the mask on his face before standing up to take his proper place beside you.

You didn’t feel 100% better, but knowing he would explain more. You fixed your mental state as much as you could, you knew this way was about to be the toughest thing you have been through. 

There was some small chat between your doctor, Simon and you. Talking about the birth plan, checking your dilation, planning the next steps as well as you could. Before you know it you are pushing, and pushing. Simon is next to you the entire time, feeding you ice chips and doting on you constantly. “You are doing so good, lovie.” - “There you go, my strong girl, you got this.” - “You are so perfect, sweetheart.” - “Almost there love, you are doing great.”

Somewhere between the tears, the pain, the constant pressure and with help from nurses and doctors. You hear cries. Your body feels instant relief, and the joy that bursts across your chest is unlike anything you have ever felt. Your eyes fall to Simon, he’s standing stiff as a board. Eyes never leaving the newborn as the nurse gently cleans the baby’s body as the doctor finishes up with you. Before you know it they are gently laying your baby onto your chest.

“Congratulations mom… a beautiful healthy baby girl!” The nurse whispers excitedly to you as she pulls your hands back, ensuring you have the baby. 

You can’t hold back the few tears that fall, “She’s a girl.” 

Your nose taking in her smell, your lips gently brushing her head. A perfect baby girl. After a few moments of silence, you look for Simon. His hands shoved in his pockets, standing to your side, eyes on your baby girl. 

“We have a baby girl, Si.” You can’t help the smile on your lips. 

Simon’s chest rose and fell rapidly, taking everything in. He was a father to a baby girl. 

“She’s so small,” Simon comments softly. 

“She sure is,” you praised. “And perfect.” Your finger found her hand, letting it wrap around your finger. You looked at the small amount of hair on her head, her eyelashes, her cheeks, her fingers, just taking her all in. After about 5 minutes of silence, a nurse speaks.

“Congratulations you two, would dad like a turn holding her?” She asked politely as she reached for your daughter.

“Here Si,” you encouraged. Gently handing the baby to the nurse. Watching her carefully as she took the baby from you, walked around the bed to Simon and she patiently stood in front of him. 

Simon of course wanted to hold her, but she was tiny. He had only really ever been around one baby before, his nephew and he couldn’t for the life of him remember him being this small. His blurred eyes took in her features, she was beautiful. 

“I uh-” he cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I can. She’s so small and I’m so-” he gestured to himself. Clearly uncomfortable with the idea of his hulking frame, meant for killing to hold this sweet innocent baby. His sweet innocent baby girl. 

“You can hold her, just trust me, you can do it” you encouraged. “Look at me Simon.”

He almost had to force his eyes from your daughter so he could look at you. Your sweet face, eyes tired but shining happily, encouraging him. You almost took his breath away, beautiful as ever. If you believe in him, maybe he should believe in himself.

“I love you, you can hold her. Look at her Si, our daughter, she wants her daddy.” You swallowed hard, not entirely sure if that is what he needed to hear or not.

Barely a moment went past before he held his hands out towards the nurse. She showed him exactly what to do, she never let go of the baby until she was certain that he was ready. Before you knew it there he was, as still as he had ever been, barely even breathing as he held her. 

You couldn’t believe it, seeing her tiny body being held by such a mass, that is Simon. A singular hand of his is almost the size of her whole body. You felt warmth bloom across your chest watching him with her. The way his stiff shoulders eventually relaxed more. How he leaned into her, smelling her tiny head, followed by whispers you couldn’t hear. 

“I can’t believe I have a daughter,” Simon chuckles out with a wet laugh. “I am so proud of you baby.” He then turns to you, “You did amazing.” 

Brown eyes filled with unshed tears hold onto yours that are allowing tears to fall freely. “We did amazing, Si…” you said truthfully. “Just look at her, she’s as much me as she is you.” 

Simon pulled his eyes back to the sweet baby in his arms. “Yeah I guess so, huh?” He could even see that the tiny wisps of hair on her head were definitely the exact shade of his. 

It was then the nurse popped back up, “And what are we naming her mom and dad?” She asked innocently. 

How have you both forgotten you need a name for the baby? 

“Uh- well we haven’t quite decided yet,” Simon answered quickly. 

“That’s perfectly okay! No rush,” she responded politely. “Let’s finish getting her and mom all cleaned up. Then I’ll get you to your room. How does that sound?” 

Simon looked at you, you nodded at him with a grin. 

“Sounds great, thank you.” He responded politely. 

The nurse went back to him to grab your daughter, hands out waiting. Only Simon didn’t budge. His eyes were solely focused on the baby in his arms. 

“Sir?” She questioned gently. 

Simon almost startled before looking at her, then down at the baby again, and back to the nurse. 

“I just need her for a little bit, then you can have her back. How does that sound?” 

Simon actually grumbles, no words, just grumbles. 

Fuck, you love him. “Simon,” you almost laugh. “Let the nurse have her baby.” 

He doesn’t give in immediately, a minute or so passes before he huffs and gently hands her over to the nurse. 

“Thank you…” the nurse smiles at him. “The doctor will be right back to assist you with another nurse. I’ll meet you both in your room.” She turns to you. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you say to her, eyes not leaving the baby. 

A moment goes by and you turn your head to Simon to find his eyes already on you. Nothing but pure adoration for you. 

“You’re going to be the best daddy ever,” you whisper to him truthfully. 

“I can only promise you that I will give it my all,” Simon says honestly. Hand nervously touching the back of his neck. “I only wish to give you both the best life possible.” 

Both of your eyes are unwavering, holding each other trying to convey emotions you can’t quite say out loud. You aren’t naïve, you know this will be hard, of course raising a human together won’t be easy. If there was anyone in the world you would be willing to go through this with, it was Simon. 

“I know this was all… unexpected, but I don’t think I have ever felt happier than I feel at this moment. Right now.” 

“Ditto, love.” You can hear his smile. “Ditto.” 

Tags: @daemondoll @mileyraes @axoleos @arminarlertssword @wawuwe @cxltblood @mrflyingbanana03 @itsmytimetoodream @arminarlertssword @mrssabinecallas @babygirl-riley @gplol @yuly

Thank you for reading! If you have an idea or request for where they go from here, feel free to send ��

[onyourmarkks]

check up (L.Jeno)

pairing: jeno x fem! reader

synopsis: reader has her first time at the gynecologist..jeno just happens to be her doctor who takes advantage.

genre: smut | MINORS DNI plz

warnings: sex, advantage taking??? eating out.

It was your first time at a gynecologist, you were nervous obviously, you’ve seen videos of the tools they use that look like they can split you into two, it was nerve wracking, you sat in the office, waiting to be called. your leg bounced in anticipation, feeling strange in this setting and situation.

Once your name was called you were lead to the room, and instructed to remove your lower half clothing, “dr. lee will be in, in just a minute” the nurse said in a deadpan tone to you.

you removed your lower half and sat on the chair, looking at the stirrups, wondering if your legs can even go that high.

you were silently panicking, when the door opened.. revealing a doctor… a male…doctor, this only made you freak out even more, i thought only women could get this job? you thought to yourself, “hi, you must be, y/n…dr lee” he said extending his hand for you to shake it, he spoke your name dragged out, almost as if he was testing it out.

“hi nice to meet you” you said shaking his hand, feeling it calloused almost, ‘probably from med school’ you thought to yourself. “first time here?” he asked noticing your nervous exterior, helping your legs into the stirrups, “yeah” you said breathily, letting him help you. jeno internally exploded into confetti, grinning to himself, “don’t worry..” he said lifting your gown up, exposing your cunt to him.

“looks.. fantastic” he said brushing his thumb against your clit, making you jump, “sorry i’m so sorry” you say apologizing because you felt embarrassed “no need to worry… tell me..y/n.. have you ever had intercourse before?” jeno asked spreading your folds, tempted to insert a finger into your begging hole.

“n-no, never” you answer, trying your best not to moan or make any type of sexual sounds, “i see, i see, does this feel okay?” he tempts, inserting his index finger into you, you gasp, not sure if this is apart of the exam “is..is this apart of the exam?” you breathe out, fighting back a moan. “of course, why wouldn’t it be? i’m being professional, ms y/n” he says smirking to himself as he responds to you.

“o-oh.. okay.. i’m sorry” you respond feeling embarrassed that you questioned his professionalism, “no problem, now tell me how…this feels” he says inserting another finger, giggling to himself “oh my god” you say slapping your hand on your mouth to avoid humiliating yourself “good…so good” you mumble the last part he hums as he shoves his finger back and forth.

at one point, he attaches his mouth to your cunt, and that’s when you realize this isn’t apart of your check up, but he was hot. “fuck..” you say gripping his hair as he flicks your clit with his tongue.

“this is gonna be our last test..” he says standing up, unbuttoning his pants, his white coat maximizing his huge frame, “doing okay, miss y/n?” he asks, awaiting for your approval, you nod, looking up at him, he grins as he pulls out his hardened cock, “such a oblivious slut huh?” he says rubbing his cock against your folds gathering up your wetness, you could only whine against his touches. “come on pretty…cat got your tongue?” he asks, with an eye smile, tapping your cheeks “n-no, sorry” you reply opening your mouth to speak more.

jeno inserts his thick cock head into your entrance, making you almost scream he was internally thanking the lord for you to be his last patent and his nurses went home after they brought you in.

“such a…tight pussy..” he says as the thrusts into you at a steady pace, making you slide back and forth on the table, the paper crumbling beneath you.

you sat up on your elbows to look at him, whimpering and whining “more..” you say hoarsely, jeno grins and obliges and moves your legs to an angle where he can access you deeper.

you feel him hit you deeper, your cunt swallowing and sucking him so well, “so good, dr lee..” you gasp and cover your mouth, your hand reaching to touch his v-line, “such a good pussy…you like getting fucked like this? by your doctor? you’re such a whore..letting anyone fuck you” he grunts out through his thrusts, his degrading only making you wetter.

“dr lee…” you whine as you feel something unfamiliar in your stomach, almost as if you have to pee? “i have to pee dr lee.. please” you moan as he chuckles at your words, “pee? silly girl. you’re gonna cum” he says rubbing your clit with his thumb, you thrash around on the table as you cum, feeling yourself explode.

“shit shit” jeno says as he shoots his thick load into you, giving you one full push to make sure his cum is buried, “your exam is complete, miss y/n. you’re healthy..very healthy” he says grinning pulling out of you and zipping his pants up.

“should we schedule our next meeting?” he says washing his hands at the sink, looking at you through the mirror “yeah..” you breathe out, absolutely fanned out, “i’ll see you” he says slipping a piece of paper next to you, and he exits the room, bidding you well.

the paper read

‘need to see that pussy again.. call me

-jeno’

with his number attached

——-

man i love jeno… thanks for 100 followers! love u

[shawnxstyles]

please, call me peter

DATE: JANUARY 6, 2023

summary: you haven’t been able to come with anyone besides yourself, making you think something’s wrong with you. once you go to the gynecologist, dr. parker shows you that you’re just fine.

request: yes yes

words: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering], dub-con, small praise kink, dirty talking), and a cute ending.

note: shooting out requests like webs. sorry that was lame. if this makes you uncomfortable, do not read.

gynecologist!peter x female!reader

—

Your eyes scan the white room while you sit impatiently. Your heart lightly thuds in your chest and your fingers drum rapidly along your clothed thigh. The nurse had asked if you wanted to change into a hospital gown, which you politely denied. She gave you an indifferent expression before walking out, leaving you here.

You were at the gynecologist for one concerning reason; every time you had sex, you couldn’t come. Your previous relationship ended because you were unable to reach that euphoric high, which you believed was a ridiculous reason to leave someone. You weren’t as sad as you thought you’d be because you were too concerned with your own well-being to dwell on some bloke.

Before heading to the doctor, you had a quick hook-up, assuming that you and your ex just weren’t sexually compatible. But then you were proved wrong when you didn’t come. Again. You weren’t really the hook-up type, in fear of catching some unwanted disease or infection. Finally, you took matters into your own hands, literally, and masturbated with your fingers until you orgasmed all over your bed sheets.

See? It wasn’t impossible.

Then why couldn’t you come with other people? It had to be your fault. It had to be.

So, again, you were left here in the small hospital room sitting between empty stirrups with your ankles tightly crossed. The widening of the wooden door alerted you, your eyes shooting towards the man entering the room.

A guy? Your gynecologist was a guy?

You knew you were a decently healthy person because you were always on track with your appointments, even small check-ups. Because of your good wellness, you had never needed to go to the gyno. Until now, which seemed a bit nerve-racking all of a sudden.

The second the doctor turned around, you knew exactly why.

Warm, brown eyes peer at you with tenderness. Chestnut curls rest upon his head a little messily, but in the cutest way. He wore a professional lab coat over his casual clothing. His ribbed shirt and blue jeans seemed to match him perfectly. His cheeks appear a tinge pink when he smiles, welcoming and greeting you.

Oh shit.

“I’m Dr. Parker, and you are?” Dr. Parker asks as he plops onto his spinny chair. His eyes stare deeply into yours, causing your heart to race more than you’d like to admit. His voice was as attractive as his face, and you tried to convince yourself that he had to have at least one bad quality that you just haven’t seen yet, so you didn’t soak your panties.

“Y/N,” You blink to wash away the feeling of your nerves as your palms get clammy. “but you probably knew that already.”

“That is true, but I like for my patients to introduce themselves to me directly,” He states simply and you nod in response. Your sweaty hands interlocked over your thighs to ease yourself.

“So, what brings you in here today, Y/N?” Dr. Parker questions with a lick of his lips. He can’t help himself when his eyes drift nonchalantly, but quickly down your body. You were beautiful, which made it hard to concentrate on anything else, especially when you started talking. Your voice was silky, and he wanted to ask you more questions just so he could hear it more.

“I…” You were a bit embarrassed to share your reasoning. Was it common? Will he laugh at you? No, of course not, he’s a doctor! You battled with yourself in your head before spitting it out. “I can’t come during sex.”

Your jaw clenched as your hand practically hit your forehead in embarrassment. You couldn’t look at him because he was probably holding back a laugh. But you also couldn’t look at him because he was so handsome you might melt.

True be told, Peter already knew why you were here. He read the small report the nurse got before he entered. It was part of protocol and he wanted to hear you describe it yourself.

“That’s okay, darling. Nothing to be ashamed of,” He reassures gently as you remove your hand from your face. He smiles sincerely and you smile bashfully back. The nickname erupts butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t disregard the small wetness you feel trickle in your underwear.

When he asks, you go on to explain your situation in detail, even including the part about your ex-boyfriend dumping you. When Peter hears this, his jaw subtly clenches as irritation spreads through him.

Who breaks up with someone for that? He wanted to ask, but knew that was probably inappropriate. He does need to question you professionally though to ensure there’s nothing wrong. However, he thinks he already knows the answer.

“I’m going to ask you some questions that get pretty personal,” Parker faces his notes with you in the corner of his eye. You nod as your nervousness never fades and your heart beat remains quite fast.

Most of his questions were simple and straightforward, so you weren’t too ashamed to answer.

“Do you have any pain?”

“No.”

“Are you on birth control?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Two years,” You eyes strayed away from him, thumbs twiddling in your lap like an anxious child. He wonders how you got birth control without going to the gynecologist in the past, seeming as though you’ve had no history.

However, some questions made the heat rise to your cheeks. Your arousal worsened the more Dr. Parker spoke, his voice warm and soothing like honey.

“To clarify, you have orgasmed before, correct?” Peter was able to focus when his eyes were glued to his papers, but one glance at your adorable shyness and his cock was semi-hard in his boxers.

“Yes, I-I did it myself,” You hissed at yourself for stuttering. He made you so starstruck it was hard to form words. You didn’t meet many people like that in your life— now that you think of it, none at all. He surveys you for a moment you think was a little too long, and you tighten your ankles together at his burning gaze.

“Um,” He grunts, covering it up with a cough as his cheeks turn pink a tad more. Your lip subtly curls into a smile at his cuteness. Peter was nervous for the first time in a while, fingers shaking as he scribbled notes about you. He felt as silly as a child who had a crush on a classmate. “you seem very well.”

“So nothing’s wrong?” Your eyebrows crinkle in confusion, a lost expression cascading over your face when you feel like you’ve hit a dead end. You gaze at the floor, trying to understand.

“Not directly,” He says to reassure you. Your eyes meet his with a head tilt. Now, you were really confused.

“What do I do then?”

“Don’t have sex with idiots,” He grumbles, honestly hoping you didn’t hear it. But of course you did. Your heart rate quickens wildly in your chest at his blunt statement. “but to make sure, I’m going to check you, okay?”

Your eyes widen for a moment, not thinking you would have to be checked. Your thoughts immediately shoot to your soaked panties and how he’ll see your very visual arousal. Hopefully, he assumes it’s from nerves.

“Would you like to change into something more comfortable and accessible?” He asks, looking at your shirt with jean shorts. He checks most of his patients, so usually they would have been in a gown already. But at this hospital, the patient didn’t have to change, even though it was highly recommended. However, when they rarely denied the new wardrobe, the doctor had to undress the patient themselves. So far in Peter’s career, he’s only had to do that with incidents that were an emergency.

“No, thank you,” You answered with no explanation. Secretly, you hated the material of the gown and you swore it gave you rashes. Maybe you were allergic?

Dr. Parker nods once and turns to his little side table beside you. He slips on his blue gloves and tells you exactly what he’s going to do, so you’re not unprepared.

“And since you’re not in a gown, the protocol is that I must undress you myself,” Peter feels the burning red flame up his cheeks at his statement. Your eyes widen again at the image of the sensual action, but nod in understanding.

Who made that rule? You wanted to ask, but it seemed disrespectful. You honestly couldn’t tell if you loved or hated the person that invented that idea. Picturing Dr. Parker strip you only made a pool in your panties.

Peter’s gloved fingers unbutton and zip down your jean shorts with your permission. It was slow and steady, unlike your heart that was bouncing off the walls of your ribs. You know he could see your heavy breathing as your stomach rose up and down too quickly under the thin material of your shirt.

Your shorts were removed and then he was on to your underwear.

Peter’s cock pulsed in his jeans at the wet patch on your panties, his red blush never fading. He wanted to press the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit. He would rub you over the flimsy fabric and then make you moan for him as he fucked you roughly with his fingers. He could assume that you were tight and tense because of your struggle to orgasm with another person, but the thought only made his cock twitch needily as he imagined you squeezing around him.

“Are you okay so far? And can I remove these?” He asks for consent and patiently waits. You nod, but he’s not having that. “Words, Y/N. I need you to say it.”

His demand caused you to clench around nothing as you stutter out a trembling yes, so he can proceed. Peter delicately removes your panties, sliding them down your supple legs and placing them with your shorts. You didn’t open your legs, but you knew he’d already seen the wetness leaking out of you.

“Okay, um,” His professionalism was fading from him. He wanted to devour you because you probably tasted amazing. The smell of your arousal filled his nostrils, making it hard to focus on anything. “Put your legs on these stirrups. I’ll help you.”

He guides your legs into the holders, strongly resisting the urge to gawk at your vulnerable area. Once you were settled, he looked down and nearly came right there. Arousal drowned your folds as your puffy clit poked out behind it all. He noticed the fluttering of your folds as the cold air hit your wetness. He wouldn’t need to use any lube on you for sure. Peter was losing his cool and was about to lose everything if he did not pull himself together.

“I’m about to start. Are you okay?” He could sense your nervousness from a mile away. He wanted to make sure you were okay, even if you’ve had sex multiple times before.

“Yes, doctor,” You reassure and his jaw subtly locks at his label leaving from your mouth. He avoids picturing his falling from your pretty lips, so he could focus on the task at hand. You didn’t notice, too caught up in your own thoughts of his fingers entering you. You wanted him to pound them into you mercilessly because you know he’d know all the right spots and special places to hit. You can imagine he’s soft and caring, and always gives immense pleasure to the woman.

You almost gasp aloud when you come to a realization; he probably has a girlfriend. Or a wife. A wife and kids. You don’t remember seeing a ring, but that doesn’t mean anything. Oh, God, you were daydreaming sexual thoughts about your gynecologist who would probably freak out if he could hear them.

“If it makes you more comfortable, my name is Peter. Sometimes that small detail helps the patients relax more,” He noticed your sudden panicked state and high tension in your legs, wanting to calm you down, so it doesn’t hurt. It was perfectly fine to be nervous, but it wasn’t fine for him to be this nervous. He’s a professional doctor, yet he’s thinking about ruining it all just to please you at this moment.

You feel the latex gloves graze your folds, making your heart jump up into your throat. Peter’s middle finger practically teases your entrance, and you hold back pathetic whimpers. Once he slips his middle finger inside, you release a shuddery moan. His finger stills, deep inside of you while he gives you a second to adjust.

“Relax for me,” You try not to clench around him, but you’re a lost cause when he begins to wiggle it around the tight space. Peter is struggling. His cock is about to burst at the seams while his middle finger sinks far inside you. Your clenching walls and hushed noises nearly make him moan. He sees you resisting the urge to moan and it’s killing him because he wants to hear you.

“You can moan,” Peter says, voice low and sultry. “It’s welcomed.” He curls his finger and slowly pushes in and out. You don’t hold back your moan this time as lust begins to fill your vision. It feels too good, even though you know it’s wrong. You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter at his skilled finger and his concentrated expression.

Peter is positive you’re enjoying this. He can’t resist you anymore when he has you spread open for him. Plus, he found nothing peculiar inside, you seemed healthy. He could stop now if he’d like, but the contraction of your pussy walls around his finger and the sweet whimpers you’re eliciting spur him to continue.

“How does this feel, Y/N?” Peter’s voice was gravelly and lustful; you were sure to catch on by now. His question was borderline professional, yet inappropriate. At this point, Peter couldn’t care less because your face said it all.

“Good, really good,” You admitted with fluttering eyes as your hands gripped the sides of your shirt. Your name out of his mouth made you melt into his touch as you instinctively grinded your hips into his hand.

“What about this?” His ring finger slides in effortlessly, and they both curl inside you. You gasp, eliciting another shaky moan. His digits were thick and just the right length to satisfy you without even needing his cock, even though you wanted it. “God, you’re so tight. Imagine what you’d feel like around my cock.” He grumbles.

You gasp at his sudden profound language, but the dirtiness only made you more aroused. Your brain imagined how his cock would look buried so deep inside of you that you’d feel him in your stomach. You imagine this pre-cum leaking from his tip as he pulls out of you just to slam back in. Your core tensed at the thought.

“I didn’t hear you, Y/N,” He grunts gravelly, slowing his movements. He slips his fingers out, removing the glove swiftly. You whine at the emptiness, answering him. He was so sweet, yet dirty, and you loved it.

“So good! It feels so good, please don’t stop,” You plead and he smirks in satisfaction as he continues. His thumb rolls over your puffy clit, making your hips press into his hand as he slips back in. Your thighs contracted as they begged to close, but the locked stirrups blocked you from doing so.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” His tone was smooth and clear, almost contradicting his sinful actions. His pace becomes brutal, ramming in and out of you with no mercy. The rough texture of his bare hand sends a shiver up your spine as your orgasm nears.

“You! You, Peter,” Your chest heaves as choked moans leave your lips. His digits rub your throbbing nerves as his fingers glide against your walls addictingly good. Your fingernails dig into the soft flesh of your trembling thighs. His lips raise in another smirk as his cheeks flush that familiar pink. “I’m close, Peter,” You whimper, causing him to hiss at the harsh pulsing of his shaft when his name falls delicately from your lips just how he imagined.

“I know, honey. Can feel you clenching around me,” He groans when you release another noise of pleasure. His eyes wander down to your aching cunt as his fingers become drenched in your juices. You’re squeezing him torturously, on the edge of your break.

“Are you gonna come? Gonna come for me?”

Without another moment, your orgasm ripples through your body with a blissful wail. Clenched muscles and screwed eyes don’t even express the full ecstasy you feel. White liquid saturates Peter’s bare fingers before he licks them clean. It wasn’t the most sanitary, but he didn’t give one fuck.

Your face screams fucked out; perspired skin, droopy eyes, and a weary smile. In his ideal situation, he would have devoured you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But that was for another time. If there ever was another time, which he hoped there would be.

Just maybe not in a hospital.

“Well, Y/N, it seems like you are very healthy,” Peter grins, taking the tissues to clean you thoroughly. You can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks at his joking comment.

“Thanks, doctor,” Your voice came out a bit squeaky while your heart continued to stammer in your chest.

“After that, I think you should call me Peter,” He chuckles, sliding away in his stool to discard the tissues. Heat burns your skin from his adorable laugh.

“Peter it is then,” He helps you down the stirrups and you begin to get dressed with a goofy smile curling on your face. Peter doesn’t fail to notice this as his thoughts begin to wander. He knows he just met you, but he wants to see where this goes. He is confident that you’re interested in him (at least enough for him to finger you), so maybe asking you out isn’t the crazy idea he’s ever had.

“Y/N?” Suddenly, he didn’t feel so confident.

“Yeah?” Your response was breathless.

“Would you, um,” Peter hesitated to find the words. He really was like a little kid talking to his crush for the first time. “like to go out sometime? Maybe?”

You admire his bashfulness. He anxiously rolls up his coat sleeves while his face displaces a rosy blush. His brown eyes twinkled with hope as he waited for a reply.

“I would like that, doctor,” You smile genuinely and sweetly, your joyful energy calming his pent-up nerves. “I mean Peter.” You giggle when he blushes.

“Okay, okay, this is great. Here’s my number,” Peter scribbles messily on a small sheet of note paper, handing it to you. It was adorable how nervous he was for being a well-respected doctor who waltzed in with a sweet kind of confidence. You were giddy as well, but you were way better at hiding it clearly. You snatch the sheet with your fingers, tucking it away in your palm.

“Do you do this with all your patients, Dr. Parker?” You tease with a quirked eyebrow and a pointed finger at his chest. Peter huffs out a chuckle while clicking his tongue.

“Only the most beautiful ones,” He gently lifts your finger, kissing it gently before striding out of the room. Peter doesn’t forget to leave an arrogant wink as the heavy, wooden door closes abruptly.

Maybe being a doctor does make him arrogant. Sometimes.

You stand frozen, starstruck. Your breathing was back to heaving again because he left you breathless. And speechless. You jokingly wondered for a minute if you would die from a heart attack, due to the rapid thumping of a stupid organ against your ribs. Curious, you open your palm and unfold the slip of paper he wrote hastingly. Glancing past the number, you notice the small words underneath.

Please, call me Peter.

—

yesss tell me what you think :)

[insipid-drivel]

Warhorses: Which horses are actually good candidates, anyway?

This post is in honor of @warrioreowynofrohan, who asked the question in the comments under my guide, "Horses: Since There Seems To Be A Knowledge Gap". Their question, "Given what you said about too much weight breaking a horse’s spine, how did that work with knights in plate armour?" is one I'm going to try to answer here, since the answer can be very nuanced depending on where and when you're talking about.

Also, while I was a stable hand for years as well as a rider, I never had the opportunity to directly learn more ancient styles of tacking, horse training, and combat, so I don't have any direct experience to draw from with regard to horses used for military purposes. I'm still gonna do my best here with what I know, and research what I don't.

As I've covered in the past, large horses (draft horses) make less-than-ideal warhorses, and so do carriage horses like the elegant and dramatic Friesians.

Let's begin by addressing this from the perspective of creative writing. For you writers and content creators out there, an essential part to the continuity of any historically-themed work you do involving horses will be depicting breeds of horses that didn't exist before a certain time in history. I'm going to approach this question from the stance of, "Medieval-type era warhorses". Horses were used in warfare as late was World War II, but actual horses you ride into battle with knights and archers and bannermen? We actually have to drop the subject of specific modern breeds altogether aside from using them for comparisons.

When discussing warhorses, various cultures have approached them differently. Some cultures will value a specific type of horse above all others, such as the Mongolian Steppe Horse or the American Mustang. Other cultures, which may be from biomes and territories where multiple types of horses are needed for different forms of warfare and tactics, value whichever horses can get their jobs done without their riders getting killed.

Carrying vs. Pulling:

Horses have been used in warfare since as far back as 4000 BC, but their first applications were more as chariot horses. Humans have been riding and working with horses since before we even had stirrups to more easily ride them with! As archaeologists and anthropologists make more discoveries, the more we learn that we humans have been working closely with horses since before we had specialized tools to ride them with. The very first warhorses pulled chariots or carts, which is much easier for a horse's anatomy to handle compared to carrying a heavy weight like an armored rider on their backs, which puts stress directly on their spines where they have very little supporting muscle for supporting a lot of heavy downward weight.

Warhorse Size Categories:

Really, any breed of horse can apply to a niche in warfare if it's needed enough. Even very small, delicate horses have had their place in the history of human combat! Before I continue, it's important to know that there's a unique unit of measuring a horse's height. Rather than measuring a horse's height in centimeters or inches, they're measured in units called "hands". A single "hand" = ~4 inches/10.16cm, and a horse's height is measured based upon the distance between the bottom of their hoof to the tallest part of their shoulders, just at the base of the back of their necks. We don't actually include neck length/head height in a horse's measurements with traditional measuring.

Another rule of thumb: The average horse cannot safely carry anything heavier than about 30% of their total body weight. This is a serious factor to take into mind when deciding on a type of or breed of horse for a mounted warrior of any kind: You need to factor in the OC's starting body weight, and then add on the weight of armor, weapons, and any armor the horse itself may wear along with the weight of its tack.

Light-Weight Horses:

A few examples of lightweight horse breeds whose ancestors have historically been used in combat are Arabians, Barber Horses, and the magnificent Akhal-Teke. Lightweight and delicately-boned horses like those are best applied for military maneuvers that require precision, speed, and endurance, and the rider themselves should specialize in some form of combat or reconnaissance that doesn't require them to wear heavy metal or laminated armors. Archers are good candidates for riding smaller horses, or lightly-armored swordsmen like an Ottoman Janissary.

Central-Asian and North African horses also benefit from having a higher tolerance for hot climates. They can absolutely suffer from heatstroke and cardiac arrest from being forced to run and work in extreme temperatures and should always be provided with the same protective measures in a heatwave as any other horse, but they have a little bit of an edge over horses descended from freezing and temperate climates.

Medium-Weight Horses:

Medium-weight horses started showing up in the archaeological record around about the Iron Age, where chariot warfare was becoming an increasingly utilized form of mobile combat, and people needed bigger, stronger horses capable of pulling heavier loads - such as a chariot with two passengers rather than just one. As cultures began to develop heavier-duty armors made of metals and laminated materials, it also became important to breed horses that were tall and stocky (muscular and with relatively short spines compared to their height), and therefore more capable of carrying riders in increasingly heavy armor. Medium-weight horses were also essential at the dawn of the gunpowder age when the cannon came into use in siege warfare for pulling the heavy, iron cannons into position.

Medium-weight horses are really where we see the beginnings of knights and other warrior classes on horseback come into the forefront of warfare. When you have a horse that's big and strong enough to carry heavier armor and heavier weapons along with a rider wielding them, you have a much deadlier force at your disposal. Strikes from a sword or spear from the back of a galloping horse basically results in a sword capable of cutting through enemy soldiers like a hot knife through butter.

Important Note: Traditionally, cavalrymen wield blunt swords when attacking from a charging horse's back. When a horse is charging at full speed, the sharpness of a blade becomes less important than the blade's ability to stay in one piece when it impacts hard armor and bone. A blunted edge basically turns a cavalryman's sword into a thin club that's better at holding up against smashing through multiple layers of armor and bone compared to a thinner, more delicate sharpened edge that can shatter from a high-speed impact.

Heavy-Weight Horses:

The direct ancestors of modern draft horses, such as the Shire Horse, only began to appear around about the beginning of the European Medieval Era, and were far and away not even close to the enormous sizes of the draft horses we have today. Any horse counts as a "Heavy-weight" classed horse if its weight exceeds 1500lbs/680kgs.

Heavy-weight horses were really more bred for pulling enormous weights rather than carrying knights. While yeah, there is some evidence that suggests that heavy-weight horses were used by heavily-armored knights, historians argue a lot about whether it was a rule or an exception (such as with Henry VIII, who continued to ride well after he had begun to weigh more than 350lbs/158kgs, and even went to war in France in his final years on horseback). Generally speaking, medium-weight horses tend to be the right balance of agile and strong for carrying someone that's going to actively be fighting. Heavy-weight horses were bred to be a lot more tolerant to the chaos and frightening stimulation of the sounds of battle, but medium-weighted horses generally tended to be more suited to moving efficiently through dense packs of soldiers and weaving around other horses.

Ponies:

While actually being the smallest class of warhorse, ponies were essential when it came to carrying cargo and working as pack-horses. In certain forms of terrain, such as mountains, large horses pulling big carts full of supplies or soldiers could often be extremely impractical. In situations where an army needed to move on foot and form a narrow line in order to travel, ponies were able to traverse much narrower and rougher terrain while carrying smaller loads to their destination, when heavier horses would struggle more under their own weight and dexterity.

Europe-Specific Terminologies:

If you're a writer reading this and writing a piece set in the European Medieval age, there are specific terms used for the different classes I listed of warhorses above that I'm gonna list:

Destriers: The Destrier was a universal term for the iconic knight-carrying, jousting horse. They were also sometimes referred to as "Great Horses" due to their reputations in combat settings. Destriers could have just about any appearance, but were rarely taller than 15.2 hands, or 62inches/157cm. They were capable of carrying heavily-armored knights (although knights in full plate mail rarely rode into battle and stayed on the horse the entire time - they tended to specialize at grouping up and killing a lot of footsoldiers swarming them at once and preventing breaks in defenses from being overwhelmed by an oncoming army; in the case of Edward the Black Prince, we have substantial evidence in the form of his surviving brigandine that a mounted soldier or knight was more likely to wear chainmail and brigandine with a tabard on their body with their arms, feet, and heads the most heavily armored in plate when they intended to fight on horseback, making them a little lighter and more maneuverable, but I may be waaay off base there because I'm thinking of more of Italian soldiers who used full plate and how they applied it in battle more than any other example) and wearing armor themselves.

Interestingly, the sex of a destrier was often chosen strategically. Stallions (horses that haven't been neutered) are more aggressive, and could both act as combatants on their own if their knight was dismounted or killed, but could give away an army's location if they were attempting to move stealthily. Stallions whinny and shriek a lot when they're horny or arguing with each other, which is most of the time.

Mares were often chosen by Muslim armies for being much less vocal, and therefore much more capable of stealth. Geldings (neutered males) were the preferred mounts of the Teutonic Knights, a Catholic military group, since they couldn't be stolen and used to breed more horses for the enemy army.

Coursers:

Coursers were the most common Medieval European warhorse. It's important to remember that in Medieval Europe, most armies were almost entirely comprised of common men - serfs subject to the will of their landlords, not far removed from slaves in many ways - who couldn't afford the highly-prized and expensive Destriers. Coursers were usually a bit lighter than Destriers, but were still strong enough to carry someone wearing armor. Coursers were also a little more utilitarian, because they were also sometimes used in hunting as well as warfare, so they had a valuable use outside of warfare that the owner could benefit from.

Rouncey:

A rouncey was an all-purpose horse that could be used for leisure and travel-riding as well as be trained for war. They were a lot more likely to be found on the farm of a serf or independent farmer of some kind, as they could fill a lot of different roles depending on what they were needed for. Their sizes weren't really important as much as their ability to get the job done.

It's also critical to remember that, when talking about warhorses, we're usually talking about eras long past. In general, thanks to resource availability and incredible advances in medicine, modern humans are significantly taller, and therefore heavier, than people from the European Medieval era and prior. While fatness was valued in many cultures for its suggestion of wealth, most working-class and serf-class people worked intensely physically-demanding daily lives just to maintain their own homes. They were a few inches shorter on average than we are today, had greater fluctuations in body fat distribution depending on how harsh or bountiful the harvest season had been and the season in which a war was taking place (the average person's weight would swing by 30lbs or more on average every year prior to the industrial era), and cavalry were usually chosen based upon skill in the saddle as well as physical size when considering the application of medium or heavy armor being placed on the horse's back and body.

[serpentface]

Brakul participating in the khaitwrestling tournament in the city of Wardin’s annual games. He is grappling with his beloathed rival, a Titen youth with a cooler beard named Gijo Sihgawe.

Brakul is using a technique where he attempts to gain a solid hold of his opponent's body and will then spur his khait into a run, using the animal’s momentum to drag the opponent off his mount. This can be a risky endeavor (as one attempting this maneuver might be wrenched off their OWN khait if their foe has a stronger grip) but is considered rather impressive and crowd pleasing when performed successfully. 

Khait wrestling is a sport that was brought to broader Imperial Wardi culture via the Hill Tribes, and is very popular in the west and south of the region. The Wardi brand of khait wrestling is similar in basic form and structure to its progenitor traditions, but has developed into its own unique variant. The goal of the sport is to force the other rider to dismount (via pulling or shoving them off) and to lead both khait out of the ring.

Wardi khait wrestling is performed in a wide, circular ring. Combatants begin with their khait standing parallel, and attempt to shove or pull opponents off of their mount. Fighting halts if the riders step out of the ring, and both must reposition themselves at the center before the match can resume.

Combatants are only permitted to fight via grappling. Punches, kicks, intentional twisting of extremities, attacks with the spur, jabs at the eyes, intentional trampling, etc are prohibited (and called by referees. Their calls can be incredibly controversial). Notably, the pulling of hair is generally Not outright prohibited, so longhaired riders usually wear their hair tight to the scalp or under a cap, and many devoted wrestlers keep their heads shaved. 

A match ends when one combatant has forced their opponent to the ground AND successfully leads their khait out of the ring while remaining mounted. If a dismounted rider manages to regain control of their khait before it is led away, the match continues. Bouts between equally matched opponents can be very lengthy. Official competitions held in annual games tend to have time limits, at which point the match is scored by referees based on a point system (usually tallying number of falls and scoring points per certain types of grapples).

Khait wrestling requires strong, calm, well trained and exceptionally even-tempered khait that can remain unpanicked as their riders fight atop them. Most are mares or geldings, though occasional intact bulls with particularly gentle temperaments make appearances. Hornless or blunt-horned khait are preferred (some local games only accept hornless) as even the most placid khait's horns can become dangerous to their wrestling riders. A khait that intentionally injures another rider or khait (through biting or kicking) will be banned from official events, and often become fodder for sacrifice (khait are rare as animal sacrifices, and also considered among the best for the same reason- their high value).

Saddles are made especially for this sport, and are designed specifically to Not provide significant security to the rider (they are flat and lack stirrups), making riders entirely reliant on strength and balance. Riders wear loose trousers (quite uncommon in the region, where robes or skirts are generally worn), belted at the waist to avoid being yanked off during a bout. They wear high laced riding boots with small spurs.

This and other mounted events are usually accessible only to wealthy athletes (or athletes with wealthy sponsors), as there is a significant cost barrier to khait ownership to begin with in the cities, and animals suitable for this sport are particularly expensive. These matches are functionally a showcase of wealth and power for their participants. Though riders must wear simple clothing and are provided basic saddles, their mounts may be lavishly groomed and ornamented. The costuming shown here is actually on the less ostentatious end of the spectrum for a typical city tournament.

Additional notes:

Brakul's khait here is one of his favorites (he has twelve), a huge, shaggy mare named Emense, a Wardi word that translates close to 'beloved'.

Brakul has participated in nine of Wardin's annual games, and placed first in khait wrestling three times. He enjoys modest local fame for this and has used most of his winnings to buy more khait and khait accessories.

Goji is a relative newcomer and won first in the last two annual tournaments. This drawing depicts moments before his second win, where Brakul does, in fact, fail at his awesome maneuver and get wrenched off his khait.

Goji rides an intact bull, a relative rarity. He is an exceptionally placid and gentle creature, named 'Moose' after a strange and exotic beast from the north.

Khait wrestling among the Hill Tribes has dozens of local variants, but commonalities that distinguish these from the adopted Wardi tradition is that the goal is specifically to knock off the other rider AND mount their khait AND THEN lead both from the ring, and that it's done with actual saddles.

[percynorthwest]

Jegulus microfic - doctor

2/5-2024 @jegulus-microfic words:~1060

cw:medical inaccuracies, pregnancy scare (ig?), complications, ectopic pregnancy

"And how long has the pain been going on for?"

"It started maybe two days ago. But it got so much worse this morning." Regulus replied. "And my shoulders started hurting too, at the same time," Regulus shrugged, "I don't know."

James could see that tried his best to keep his composure, but he could see the pain Regulus was in by his stiff posture and the constant frown on his face.

"And since then, it feels like I'm constantly on the brink of fainting."

The doctor typed quickly on her computer. She too had a quaint frown on her face. James held Regulus' hand, stroking his thumb over the back of his hand. Regulus hand was cold, more so than usual, and he was looking a tad to pale, all furthering James' worry.

James looked up to Regulus' face, and saw how he took deep, rhythmical, breaths, once again indicating of how much pain he was in. His eyes were closed tightly, and when he opened them, he blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. James understood how much he hated this; being so in the centre of attention; being vulnerable; in pain. James raised Regulus' hand to give it a soft kiss.

"And how long ago since your last period?" the doctor asked.

Regulus stiffened further where he sat on the plastic bed. This wasn't a topic Regulus was particularly comfortable with.

"Ehm, two years ago, maybe." He replied, still looking uncomfortable, "It kinda stopped once I got on hormones."

The doctor swirled away from the computer screen, now instead facing Regulus on her chair.

"Are you sexually active?"

James could see Regulus getting immediately red, before he answered with a nod. Then Regulus' frown deepened further.

"But I have an IUD, since like three years ago. And I'm at no risk of STDs or anything" He explained quickly with a now really worried look on his face, looking even more pale.

"It's still highly unlikely, but not impossible." The doctor explained, following Regulus' line of thinking. "I want to be on the safe side though, so I'm going to order some blood test, that will not only screen for pregnancy, and then I'd also like to order an ultrasound."

Regulus was certainly looking a lot more pale now, but he nodded along.

"Both the blood test and the ultrasound could indicate what's going on, not only whether or not it's a pregnancy."

Regulus looked just as worried, but he nodded again, maybe just a tad relieved after the doctor's reassurance.

When the doctor left the room, Regulus dropped his head back on the plastic bed, groaning out loud. James dragged his chair closer to the bed, wanting to support Regulus in any way he could. Regulus dragged his legs up, folding himself up like a ball. James placed a hand on Regulus' knee. He could hear Regulus' uneven breathing, making his heart break further. He stood up, bringing his hands to Regulus' face, cupping slightly and wiping away the few tears that had started falling down his chin.

A nurse or something akin to one, maybe a midwife, entered the room. Both James and Regulus startled slightly, and Regulus immediately wiped away any of the tears James had missed. James didn't sit back down again, wanting to be as close as possible.

"If you could just come with me," she said softly.

They followed her into another room, in the same part of the hospital. The room had stirrups, which made Regulus grip James' hand more tightly. Another nurse sat in the room already, and he seemed to be preparing blood tests.

Regulus was asked to sit down, and the male nurse took two vials of blood, while the other nurse prepared the ultrasound. After the vials were filled with crimson red blood, the male nurse left -thankfully, as Regulus probably didnt want more people in the room than necessary.

The whole procedure was quite quick. Regulus was asked to take his pants off and place his legs in those uncomfortable stirrups, and the nurse could quite quickly confirm that Regulus had a ectopic pregnancy, letting Regulus get down and get dressed again.

"What does that mean?" James asked after Regulus didn't say anything.

"The egg has been fertilized outside of the uterus," she explained. "In your case on your left fallopian tube. It happens to about one in 90 pregnancy, and if one is to get pregnant while using an IUD, the risk increases." Regulus nodded, seeming to be listening in. "I'll have to confer with the doctor, but either you will have to wait it out, under observation, or you'll be given medicines to stop furthering growth. There's also a surgery, if necessary."

She left in order to get the doctor.

Regulus turned to James, with a stern look on his face.

"We are never having sex again."

James immediately burst out in laughter, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound, so stunned by the exclamation. Regulus was looking straight ahead, but James could see a smirk creeping on his face.

Once James had managed to stop, he turned to Regulus again;

"How are you feeling?" He asked softly, looking intently at his boyfriend's face, trying to gauge his emotions.

"Pretty fucking bad." he said, laughing slightly, but James could see the look of anxiety on his face, as well as a few tears escaping his eyes.

Regulus closed his eyes tightly, and groaned loudly as he pressed the heel of his hands into his face.

"I mean what the actual fuck? This is barley supposed to be possible!"

James didn't know what to say, instead just stroking Regulus' hair, tucking a lock behind his ear.

"I don't know, baby," he murmured, placing a kiss on top of his hair.

"This is your fault, you know." Regulus said, dropping his hands in order to glare at James. "You're sleeping on the couch indefinitely."

"Sure," he replied warmly. He would probably sleep on the street if Regulus so asked.

Regulus turned on the bed, dropping his legs of the side, now sitting turned to James. His face was still slightly crunched up in pain, and tears framed his eyes. He leaned towards James, who immediately engulfed him in a tight hug. Reg sobbed quietly into James' chest. James stroked his back.

"Everything will be okay," He murmured, once again into the top of his hair.

a/n:

i don't have a medical degree or anything, this is from what i've been taught in school and what i've researched online, so this could possibly be incredibly inaccurate, probably most so regarding procedure etc.

[jorvikzelda]

So. Star Stable's Spotify header.

I saw this on a little trip to SSO's Spotify page to see if they'd released any music without announcing it again and went hm. This looks kind of weird. I sure hope they haven't stooped so low as to use AI for their promo material. And then I looked closer.

First thing I noticed was the stirrups. Or, should I say... "stirrups".

Did they like... employ someone who doesn't know how tack works? What IS that? Also I'm only noticing this as I'm writing the post but why on earth does the boot not have proper laces or eyelets

And what the fuck are these weird straps on the saddle? And the guitar straps aren't attached to the guitar?? Actually... it can't be... but let me look at the hands. Just real quick

Uh. hm. that's not very hand. Are they fucking using AI

OH BOY.

The bit and the reins are... not properly attached to one another, just welded together. The noseband just disappears. The buckles at the top of the bridle don't really exist and the chin strap doesn't fit properly at all. The reins are double on one side, but not the other, and one or both of the reins on the far side almost look attached to the breast collar - or they're just being held a lot looser than the near side rein. Also, you need a very specific type of bit to use double reins, which is not the type of bit that's on this bridle. Or maybe the two weird straps are supposed to be a fucked up martingale, and that's why they're attached to the breast collar? But then why does the horse only have one rein? Also the martingale is attached wrong if that's what it's meant to be, see below (it's never attached directly to the bit). The breast collar is also attached to the underside of the saddle, rather than the saddle itself like it should be. The horse's front shoulder looks like it's drawn by someone who doesn't know very much about horse anatomy, or... y'know... AI.

The cart isn't fucking attached to the fucking horse. Poor guy is dragging that thing along with one singular back leg.

The keyboards all have the wrong number of black keys in the wrong places. And also those knobs do not look right. Oh, and something is DEFINITELY wrong with that drum kit.

And also just look at this fucking horse. Yeah, it's passable as a horse, but have you seen the quality of SSO's horses and horse art??? This isn't even anywhere CLOSE to that

So yeah uh, SSE used fucking AI art for their spotify banner. I feel like this is the greatest punch in the gut they could've possibly sent their laid-off artists' way. You cannot defend this.

[longhardtransitionreturns]

Author's note: This is birth and medical fiction. It's all fake, just a fantasy. Of course I don't want this to happen to me or anyone in real life.

I'd like to have a high risk twin pregnancy. The type where I have to fight my obstetrician to let me try to give birth vaginally and then they try to insist I have an epidural so they can cut into me without delay if something goes wrong. I'll finally get them to agree to let me try it natural if I am invasively monitored throughout and I understand I'm going under general anesthesia the second things go south.

When the day comes for me to be induced, I change into a hospital gown & follow nurses instructions as they put IV ports in both of my wrists. I'm catheterized -- a situation that isn't made any more pleasant by the twinges already squeezing my middle -- and by the time I'm being strapped into the stirrups for the doctor to swipe my membranes, I'm so trussed up I can barely move.

It's my first pregnancy & I didn't expect it to hurt so much just to be pregnant. My hips have been sore practically the whole nine months, in part because of how heavy and low I am carrying the twins. Baby A practically lodged himself between my hips last week and the pressure has been slowly increasing. My breasts are cumbersome and it's painful to even feel the hospital gown brush against my areolas. By the time the doctor is settling between my legs to start my labor, I'm eager to face whatever delivery holds for me to make this pregnancy end.

I'm singing a whole different tune 16 hours later. Or rather, screaming one at the top of my lungs. I am in the throes of transition and suffering the pinnacle of a truly agonizing labor. Baby A is posterior and the pain in my back has me at the edge of my sanity, especially now that the contractions are lasting for 90 seconds, with barely a minute in between.

I'm incoherent at this point. I'm in so much pain I'm only able to think about surviving the second I am living. I'm minimally aware when the nurses move my aching body back into the stirrups so I can push my son into the world. I bear down at their direction and it feels like my ass is gonna bust when his head plunges down.

What actually happens is his precious posterior facial features lodge against my clit as a desperate push shoves him just past crowning and my poor little nub starts to sting. It feels like it's being ripped off and I'm humiliated to find I'm begging my doctor to save my clitoris while I'm straining a massive baby out of me.

I don't know how long I howl a about the pain in my clitoris but the next thing I know the doctor is roughly pulling the shoulders and then the body out of my hole, tearing me more in the process.

I'm aware that my aching canal is empty for the moment. I don't realize I am gaped so badly my asshole is almost inverted. It stings something fierce as birth fluids continue to pour out of my loose, sopping cunt. I start to cry when I realize I am still going to have to push Baby B through my ruined pussy.

I drift in and out of consciousness, occasionally aware of the sharp stab of a contraction. I wake fully to a nurse tapping my cheek to see if I've passed out. When I force my eyes open, she informs me Baby B isn't face down anymore and the doctor is about to perform an internal version. She tells me to brace myself because it will be uncomfortable.

I didn't fully realize the medical actuality of an internal version was for a grown man to stick his entire grown man hand through my cervix and into my uterus. I'm in such utter agony I barely register that the nurses are holding me down by my arms and where my thighs are not strapped to the stirrups. I am experiencing the most pain I have experienced up to this point in my life and it seems to last forever.

I never stop screaming, even when they put a mask pumping gas over my face to try to give me some relief, but the tenor of my yell changes when something shifts and then I feel something rip deep inside of me.

Suddenly all the pain that has come before pales in comparison to what I am suddenly feeling in my abdomen. It is indescribable burning combined with a sudden sense of dread that takes over my body. I am 100% certain that my reproductive organs just gave way with my daughter trapped inside me and I am going to die if something isn't done very, very soon.

It must only be minutes, maybe not even that long, that I lay there while the medical team catches up to the realization that me and my baby are in mortal danger. Time slows down and I feel the rip in my uterus expanding as the contractions, one on top of another now, injure me more by the second. Despite no medical knowledge, I know instinctively that the renewed flood out of my pussy is blood and I am hemorrhaging, possibly to death.

I am utterly helpless now. Strapped down in stirrups, paralyzed by pain, my strength seeping from me as fast as the blood flowing between my legs. I faintly register the monitors start to alarm as I lose the battle with consciousness and my world goes dark.

*******

I wake up groggy and disoriented on a stretcher being wheeled somewhere. I immediately start to panic because there is a tube down my throat and I am really, brutally aware of a long, deep vertical incision that extends from above my belly button down to my public bone. I swear I can feel the layers upon layers they sliced through to deliver my baby. I won't know until later about the battle the surgeons waged, first to save my life and then to save my fertility.

Right now I am only aware of how much it hurts to be jostled on a stretcher with a massive cut down my middle. When the two male nurses move me into the bed, I plead for unconsciousness as my body is roughly transferred to a bed. My tailbone hits the mattress and reverberates in the form of a sharp pain through my pussy. I've still got a catheter and I feel like every inch down there has been stitched up.

I hope one of these nurses will realize I am aware and therefore in indescribable pain but it seems like the paralytic they gave me before intubating me is the only drug of the cocktail still in effect. I suffer as they lift my hips and put a pillow under my butt. Then they start taking off my hospital gown completely.

My confusion quickly turns to fear as one gloved hand on each side grabs one of my fat titties and starts tugging. Breast pumps are whipped out and the men make quick work of shoving as much of my massive milkers in to each before turning them on simultaneously.

My uterus, even after the brutal surgical repair, still tries to respond to my milk suddenly dropping. The pain of contracting after uterine repair and a cesarean combined with the sudden gush of warm pressure on my aching tits brings tears to my eyes. I must be a strange sight: intubated and naked, massive breasts attached to pumps, with my deflated belly sporting a huge incision hanging above a pussy so bruised and stitched it looks entirely purple.

The elder nurse pats my naked thigh just before he makes to leave. It jostles everything and our eyes meet as I wince at the pain it causes me. A chill runs through my body as I realize he knows I am awake and feeling way more than I should be.

He looks at me the entire time he lubes his gloved fist, a sinister smile on his face. He settles between my legs and pauses to look up at me again.

"I bet you wish you'd had that epidural, huh, dear?"

My vision goes white as I feel his whole fist plunge into my pussy with a force absolutely intended to cause me a fatal amount of pain. My vision goes white and I feel pressure building in my chest as the stitches holding my cervix together start ripping. The last thought I have before I go into cardiac arrest is how I don't want to my last memory to be of being brutally fisted in my obliterated, post-birth pussy while my heart explodes in my chest.

[lesinquietes]

You visit Doctor!Kai’s office at 9 am on Monday for your next session with him. You look like you haven’t eaten or slept right in days. He asks you what’s been going on. In a hollow, broken voice, you mumble, I’m worried about what you found. Behind his medical mask, he smirks. Ah. The fear-mongering worked. You’re such a vulnerable little lamb in his grasp right now.

“You’ll be okay, so long as you heed my advice,” he reassures you with a warm tone, accompanying his lie with a fake smile. “I’m here to help you, (f/n).”

He imagines, for a brief moment, that he’s lecturing you as your husband. So long as you obey me, I’ll protect you. That speech will come later, though. It’s enough that you look reassured.

He steps out of the room as you change into your medical gown and lie down on the examination table. He’s almost ashamed of how eager he enters when you give him the go ahead. Thankfully, you’re too nervous to notice. Cute little thing. You seem to trust him with your life. Did he make that good of an impression on you?

He situates himself at your feet and asks if you’re ready. You bob your head, fixated on the ceiling. He slips the gown above your knees and marvels at your puffy pussy. He’s never wanted to worship one before. He craves to bury his face between your folds and taste your engorged bud. He pines for the sensation of your juicy thighs against the sides of his face as you claw at the metal surface, desperate at the height of pleasure. But he won’t indulge. Those are the kinds of things husbands do to their submissive, doting wives — the women who prove they deserve it. You haven’t earned that type of attention from him yet. When he finally tastes his first clit, it’ll be when you’re legally his.

He grabs an instrument from the desk next to him. You catch at glimpse of it. Your heart drops when you piece together that it’s a dildo. He tells you it’s to stretch your tight cunt enough for him to inspect you more closely. You don’t want him to miss anything, do you? No, absolutely not.

He lathers the toy in lubricant and twists it into your hole. He’s impressed when it slips snugly into your moist cavern. He keeps it lodged there, intent on studying your expressions. You like this, don’t you? He thought he would have to use the arousal gel he bought on the black market — the kind that don’t wear off for days. He’s glad you’re in the spirit to be a good girl for him. Anything to ensure your health and survival, right? And perhaps you’re a little lonely on that big farm of yours.

He straps your ankles into the stirrups. You can’t get away now. You’re even more helpless like this. It’s difficult for him to contain a devious cackle that threatens to spill from his lips. He pinches your clit gently between his thumb and index finger. You gasp. His eyes narrow. He reminds you that this is strictly procedure. You apologize adorably, orbs downcast and cheeks hot from embarrassment. He didn’t realize how much joy he would take from shaming you for your body’s natural reactions.

He dips his fingers back down to play with your nub, rubbing and flicking it with gloved digits. Your pupils roll to the back of your skull. You can’t help it. He’s stroking you intimately — in a manner only you’ve graced yourself with before. You’re able to hold on until he decides to remove the dildo. The movement of the toy and his dexterous fingers tips you into an orgasm. It surprises you both. Your toes curl and your throat closes up. Your back arches and your jaw unscrews, preparing to release a cry. You cover your mouth to prevent the loudest mown of your life from rattling the neighborhood.

Doctor!Kai retracts his hand and glares at the mess you made on his glove. His nose wrinkles. He normally doesn’t like bodily fluids… but perhaps he can’t view this as proof of a massive victory. He made you cum.

He removes the gloves and tosses them into the trash, replacing them with a new pair. All the while, you stay in place. Your chest is heaving wildly, and you’re gazing up at the ceiling vacantly. He wonders if he broke you. Maybe you’re nothing more than a brainless toy, at his disposal.

Then, you jerk up from the examination table. You seem feral, at first. He half expects you to wrestle your way out of the stirrups and run away. He doesn’t want to chase you, but he will if he make him. Thankfully, you stay put.

Both of you wait in limbo; incredibly connected through sexual and emotional energy. You don’t blink, lost in this ever present bond. He watches you with hawk-like eyes, a predator stalking weak prey. He feels the shift, too. You’re cracking.

At last, you crane your neck around to stare at him. Your lower lip is trembling, as though you’re able to cry. He thinks, for a fraction of a second, that he’s shattered your pretty mind. Suddenly, you jut your face forward, clumsily pressing your lips against his mask-laden mouth.

His eyes widen. He stiffens from head to toe. The mighty doctor — one of Shie Hassaikai’s most esteemed members — is rendered useless for a moment by a mere kiss. Well, a mere kiss to everyone else. A mere kiss to your exes, who didn’t appreciate the time they shared with you, or the love your graciously offered. A mere kiss to those who dismissed you as nothing but flesh, adamant to conquer your temple and tarnish it with their filth. But to him? To him, it was more. To him, it resounded what he already knew: that you were meant to be his wife.

He snaps out of his paralysis and wraps an arm around you, pressing you more passionately against him. He wants to take you. His cock rouses hungrily in his trousers, prompting him to accept what’s his. You want him to take you, as well. He wishes he could.

He pulls back. You don’t stop him. You simply gaze in his direction curiously. It’s enough to draw a curt chuckle from his closed lips. You’re incredibly beautiful. Gently, he collects your chin in his grasp. He hasn’t broken you, but he’s knocked a few of your screws loose. What sane woman comes into her physician?

“I’m going to change the frequency of our sessions together,” he murmurs. “Twice per week.”

You nod silently, transfixed.

“9 am Mondays and 7 pm Fridays. We’ll extend treatment into the weekend, if I deem it necessary.”

You concede again.

He hums with approval. That schedule is ideal. You start and finish your week with him. On Friday evenings, he can take you home with him. The streets will be quiet enough, given that the clinic closes at 5 pm. No one will be around to see him escort you into his vehicle. He’ll have you all to himself for the weekend, and into Monday.

“Make arrangements for your animals and crops to be cared for over the weekend.” He instructs. “And don’t tell them where you’re going… unless you want to be embarrassed.”

He knows that’s the last thing you want. This community is too small. Rumors are spread quickly. If you tell someone you have a medical condition involving your womanhood, you’ll be viewed differently by others.

“One last thing.” He tilts his chin higher, gazing down at you with ravenous passion. “Are you pure?”

Purity isn’t common amongst adults in their twenties. He doesn’t anticipate that your flower was left untouched. He holds his breath, unknowingly, until you bob your head shyly. Your mouth runs dry. Yes. Yes. You’re a virgin. You’re clean.

“Was that your first orgasm?”

Once more, you confirm his suspicion. No wonder you reacted to him with such fire after you recovered from the energy you spent. He’s heard that women tend to attach after they’re intimate with a man.

“Good.” He praises, voice husky with lust. “I’ll be the sole one to mold you.”

At the end of your visit, he steps out of the examination room to let you change back into your clothes. He does it out of courtesy. Sure, he’s already seen it all, but his years in the yakuza taught him to also be a gentleman. Besides, he’ll be seeing much more of you soon enough.

Previous l Next

𝔉𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔲

[punkshort]

Listen

Summary: You and Joel explore an abandoned library and you get under each other's skin.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader, established relationship, set in the TWWW universe, no use of Y/N. (Can be read as stand alone, only backstory that needs to be known is Joel was once reader's boss but I included a small blurb about it to explain)

Warnings: language, smut (MDNI 18+), roleplay, dom/sub dynamic (very light, nothing extreme), dirty talk, oral (m receiving), spanking, unprotected piv sex, rough sex, creampie (don't do this, muy dangerous)

Word count: 5.7K

A/N: if anyone wants to be removed from the taglist, just shoot me a quick message or comment. I kept the same list from the main story but I don't know if you want to be included in the one-shots.

May 2006

"I could kill Tommy for tellin' you 'bout that place," Joel grumbled as he shoved food in your backpack. You lifted your head from the paper you were scrutinizing on your kitchen counter to look at him.

"Oh, come on. It's a quick trip, we'll be back around dinner," you told him, looking back down at your list.

Tommy and Joel had recently found a small, abandoned town in the mountains. One day, after they had come back from a supply run to pick over anything useful, Tommy mentioned at dinner that there was a library in town.

Joel had groaned and immediately buried his face in his hands the moment the words left Tommy's mouth. You had just been telling Joel that you and Carrie were looking for some textbooks, so the two of you got to work writing up any type of topic either of you could use for gardening and medicine.

He tried arguing with you, he tried begging you. He tried offering to do the trip himself, but nothing worked. You had told him he could either come with you and help carry the books back, or you would find someone else. Of course, he caved.

"Please, just gimme the list, I'll take care of it for you," he tried pleading once more, but you shook your head as you shouldered your backpack and shoved your handgun in the back of your pants.

"Joel, we talked about this," you said, swinging the door open and marching down the steps, heading towards the stables. It was early. The town was about a four hour ride away from Jackson. You wanted to get a move on so you could be back before dark.

"Hardly," he scoffed, catching up with you. "Didn't exactly come up with a compromise."

"Sure we did," you told him, turning the corner of your street. "The compromise was you coming with me."

He huffed and stayed quiet until you reached the stables. You always had this way of making him feel like he was in charge, but in reality, you ended up winning any disagreement you've ever had. He was grumbling to himself, wondering how on earth you managed to talk him into this when you turned and tossed him a bright smile over your shoulder with a wink, and he felt his heart flutter. Oh, that's how.

Carl already had a horse saddled up for you when you arrived. You expressed your gratitude, especially considering how early it was, and led the mare out of the barn. Joel shoved his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over the saddle, settling in before reaching an arm down to help you up. You wrapped your arms around his waist and gave the back of his neck a quick kiss before you pressed the side of your face into his shoulder blades.

He sighed as he led the horse through the gates and towards the woods. He didn't used to be this soft. People used to do what he asked, when he asked, and they thanked him for it. You were never one of those people, though. From day one, you stood your ground and never let him shake you. Even his own brother dreaded Joel's outbursts at work. Men used to cower at him on job sites when Joel demanded answers on why something was done wrong, or why a job was taking longer than it should. He was never a people pleaser, and he didn't care. He got the job done, he got results and he made a lot of money doing it.

Then you were hired a few months before the outbreak and turned his world upside down. He found himself going out of his way to try to cross paths with you. He looked forward to the monthly meetings he had with your department just so he could catch glimpses of you throughout the hour. Then, there were the few times you found yourself in his office, delivering reports or checks for him. Those moments lingered with him for days, itching until the next time he got you alone again.

It all worked out in the end, but there was a big misunderstanding that drove a wedge between you. Before you had a chance to work it out, the outbreak hit, and you both ended up traveling across the country together, seeking safety while trying to stay alive. He often wished he had a chance to have a normal relationship with you, one that didn't include life or death scenarios, but one that included traveling, theater, dinners and drinks. If only he hadn't wasted so much time before.

"You're so quiet, are you okay?" you asked him, your breath tickling his ear. He smiled to himself, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his. This wasn't so bad, either.

"I'm fine. Just wish you'd listen to me now and then. Last time we left Jackson, things didn't turn out so great," he mumbled, still partially annoyed about the trip, worried about your safety outside the walls he helped build.

"Well, I don't know about that. I seem to remember you having a good time in the end," you teased, and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Quit tryin' to distract me," he said gruffly, knowing your game well enough by now to tell when you were trying to take the focus off of anything bad.

"Sorry," you whispered, not wanting to push your luck. Joel sighed, feeling guilty.

"Just... promise you'll listen to me when we're out here? No dawdlin', and don't leave my sight. If I tell you we gotta wrap it up, we wrap it up. Understood?"

A shiver went down your spine at his domineering tone.

"Yes, sir," you said obediently, smirking into his back. You didn't want to push his buttons, but it was so easy, and you always got excited at the chance to explore outside of Jackson. You never thought you'd want to leave once you discovered the safety within the walls, but you found you eventually became a little stir crazy. A quick trip like this one would scratch that itch for a while, you just wish Joel understood you wanted a little freedom.

"Hey, what'd I say? Stay behind me," Joel hissed as you moved through the library. He had just been there less than a week ago with Tommy, but that didn't mean anything. You rolled your eyes when he turned his head and fell back behind him, your gun drawn at your side. It was an old building in desperate need of updating, the hardwood floors squeaked with nearly every step you took. If anyone or anything was in there, you'd know it by now considering the amount of noise you were making. You knew he had every reason to be anxious, and you tried to be understanding, but you were getting annoyed.

Once he finally determined the building was empty, you happily got to work examining the aisles, pulling books off the shelves and carrying huge stacks over to a conference room and piling them on top of the long, wooden table. You imagined local students maybe booked this room in the past to study or work on projects, considering the room was so close to the reference section.

Joel stayed close, but he paced around a bit, clutching his rifle as he routinely peeked out the windows. He knew there was a slim to none chance he would spot anything. He and Tommy had been to this town three times already, and he never saw a thing. But he refused to take any chances. Not with you.

Bored, he wandered down a row of books, idly reading the titles on the spines as he listened to you drop more heavy books on the table. He paused when he saw a familiar title and shouldered his rifle. He picked the book up and skimmed the first few pages. He leaned up against the bookshelf as he continued to read, completely losing track of time until he realized he hadn't heard you make any noise in a while. He paused and flicked his eyes up, listening closely for any sound from the conference room, but he heard none. He dropped the book and hurried down the aisle, rounding the corner as his head whipped around, looking down the aisles for you as he jogged.

The door to the conference room was wide open as he barged in, glancing around the small room, but you were no where to be found.

"Shit," he whispered, his heart thudding in his chest as he tried to keep the panic at bay. He turned around to check out the other side of the library, whisper-shouting your name as he went. His chest was beginning to constrict as all the worst case scenarios flooded his mind. She had a gun, she would have fired a shot if she was in trouble.

Just when he thought he was going to completely lose it, you emerged from the last row of books with a few paperbacks tucked under your arm. You saw Joel and gave him a smile before you could register the look on his face. He let out a huge breath he hadn't realized he was holding before he grabbed you roughly by the shoulders, making you frown.

"What'd I fuckin' say?!" he seethed, giving your shoulders a harsh shake.

"Excuse me?" you said, squirming away from his grasp.

"I said 'don't leave my sight', and what'd you do?" he said, raising his voice at you. His jaw was clenched as he stared daggers into you. You scoffed and pushed past him, heading back to the conference room.

"I'm an adult, Joel. Stop treating me like a child," you said over your shoulder. "Besides, you were the one who disappeared. I couldn't find you to tell you where I was going."

"I don't fuckin' care, you wait til I'm back and then we go together," he growled, following you back towards the other side of the building. You whipped around to glare at him, making him skid to a stop on the worn out wooden floors.

"I get why you're worried, Joel, I really do, and I appreciate your concern. But I just want a little freedom to live my life. And you're not the boss of me!" you snapped, throwing your free hand up in the air before turning on your heel, back to the privacy of the conference room. You just wanted to pick the best books possible based on what you and Carrie needed so you could get the hell out of there and go home.

Joel's blood ran hot at your words. He remained rooted to the ground where you left him, seething, as he replayed your argument in his head. Maybe he overreacted, but he was too pissed off to think clearly. Blood rushed in his ears as he angrily raked a hand through his hair, thinking again about how soft you've made him. He never considered it a bad thing before, but out in this world when he needed you to just listen to him, it could be a bad thing. You've always been capable, he knew that, but there's been too many close calls in the past and your safety was his only concern. He couldn't risk losing you, it wasn't an option.

He took a few deep breaths in an attempt to stomp out his anger, running his palm over his mouth as he paced back and forth, gripping his revolver. Your words just kept bouncing around in his head over and over. Then he stopped, letting his hand drop from his mouth as he stared at a fixed point on the wall, thinking about your last words: you're not the boss of me.

He shoved his revolver back in his holster and he walked calmly over to the conference room. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching as you stood in front of the table, diligently checking your list and sifting through piles of books, setting aside the ones you wanted to take by tossing them with a grunt towards the empty duffel bag next to the table.

He could tell you were still angry. You refused to look up at him, even though you knew full well he was standing there watching you. Your mouth was pressed into a thin line and your brows furrowed while you worked, determined to ignore him.

"Sit," he commanded, his voice firm. You stopped what you were doing and sighed before you met his gaze.

"Joel, I really don't feel like -"

"Nuh uh. Wasn't up for debate. And that's Mr. Miller, to you," he said, staring you down. You froze, confused, as you searched his eyes for any playfulness, but found none. You hadn't sat down, but you hadn't said anything either, the gears still turning in your head.

"You said I ain't the boss of you," he told you, pushing himself off the doorframe as he entered the room, sliding the rifle from his shoulder and leaning it against the wall. "But you forget, sweetheart, there was a time I was. Maybe you need to be reminded," he said lowly, his fists coming to rest on the table across from you as he leaned forward, issuing a challenge.

He could see the realization click. Your breathing quickened and your cheeks had a light dusting of pink across them as you slowly lowered yourself into the chair behind you, keeping your eyes glued to his face. He held back the smirk that threatened to pull across his lips, refusing to break the facade.

"So you can do what you're told," he murmured, leaning back from the table, looking down at you. You still didn't say anything, but the anxious tapping of your finger on your leg gave you away. He slowly made his way around the table, his eyes never leaving your face. You kept your head straight, looking ahead at the empty doorway, but you studied him from your peripheral as he approached.

He came to a stop right next to you and watched as your lips parted to accommodate your need for more air, your chest rising and falling faster than usual under your V neck T-shirt, where he could just make out the swell of your breasts from his angle. He hummed appreciatively and reached out a finger to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, taking pride in the way your breath caught in your throat.

"Did you get those reports for me, sweetheart?" he asked quietly, dragging a knuckle gently down your cheek and watching as the heat crawled up your neck.

It took you a moment to understand the game, but you caught up. And once you did, it felt like you had been transported back in time. You were reminded of how painfully nervous he used to make you, but instead of putting you off, it was making you squirm in your chair with anticipation.

"No," you all but whispered, then cleared your throat so he could hear you. "No. Didn't have enough time, I'm sorry Mr. Miller."

Still staring straight ahead, you felt rather than saw him stiffen next to you, and you swallowed roughly. He tsked and shook his head with a sigh. He gripped the back of your chair and flattened his palm on the table, leaning in so he was mere inches from your face.

"You wanna explain to me what's more important than the reports I asked for?" he growled in your ear, and he watched you visibly shudder. When you took too long to respond, he spun you around to face him so fast, it pulled a gasp from your throat, and you had to reach out to grip the arms of your chair in order to steady yourself.

"Answer me," he demanded through gritted teeth, his hand coming from the back of your chair to grip your chin firmly. It took you by surprise how into this he was, and somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered if this had been building up for a while, but you pushed the thought away, trying to focus on the moment.

"I overslept," you squeaked out, inwardly cringing at the lame excuse. But Joel didn't miss a beat. He dropped your chin from his hand and straightened up, still glaring down at you.

"You overslept," he repeated, disappointment dripping from his words as he stared down at you. You slowly dragged your eyes up to meet his. Looking up at him meekly, you nodded.

"See, that ain't good," he told you with a shake of his head, crossing his arms. "How do you expect to make it if you're so goddamn irresponsible?"

You briefly wondered if he was still pretending or if he was trying to warn you about survival, but again, you pushed that thought away for another time.

"Can I make it up to you?" you asked him shyly, shifting your weight as the ache between your legs grew, desperately needing attention. You saw a flicker in his eyes at your question, but he refused to break.

"Gonna have to fire you, I'm afraid," he said sadly. "I've fired people for less, and you need to learn."

"Please, I'll do anything," you begged him, scooting to the edge of your seat.

"Anythin', hm?" he repeated back to you, quirking an eyebrow. You nodded eagerly as you finally allowed your gaze to flick down to his jeans, his belt right at eye level from where you sat. You could see his erection straining against the denim, and your tongue shot out to lick your lips instinctually.

Joel let a lazy smirk tug across his face.

"You wanna suck on the boss's cock, huh?" he asked you teasingly, and again, you nodded, your adrenaline squeezing your throat to the point where you had trouble finding your voice.

"Go ahead, then. I ain't stoppin' ya," he said, his voice gravelly, his accent thick. Your hands flew up from your lap to his belt, fumbling with the buckle until you pulled the leather loose, then got to work popping the button on his jeans and carefully pulled the zipper down. All the while, Joel watched you through heavy lidded eyes, his breath only stuttering momentarily when you took him in your hand and began to slowly pump him up and down.

You looked up to him for approval as you twisted your wrist, your thumb swiping over his slit and dragging his precum down his shaft with your fingers.

"Don't got all day," he snapped. "You either want this job, or you don't."

"I want it," you whispered, your eyes glazed over with lust.

"Then fuckin' show me," he said, thrusting his hips into your hand. His mask slipped slightly when your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, a low groan rumbling from his chest as his eyes slid shut.

"Shit," he whispered to himself as you pulled him in deeper, your tongue swirling around his girth while your head bobbed up and down, taking him in further and further each time. Your fist gripped his base to hold him steady, your swollen lips brushing against your fingers as you did your best to take him down your throat. His hand tangled in your hair, and you whimpered when his hips jutted forward, triggering your gag reflex. You sputtered around him before you pulled away with a sharp gasp, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

He hooked a finger under your chin and dragged your watery eyes up to meet his. He tutted and shook his head, trying to ignore how his cock twitched when he saw your wrecked face.

"Am I too big for that pretty little mouth?" he asked you, and your mind bounced back and forth between answers.

"Yes. I-I mean, no, I can do it, let me try again," you stammered, reaching out to him before he smacked your hand away.

"Up," he commanded, and this time you didn't hesitate. You shot up from your chair so fast, your head was spinning.

"Take 'em off," he told you, his eyes flicking down to your pants. You quickly slid out of your boots and shimmied out of your jeans while Joel watched you, his hand lazily stroking himself as you worked. You were about to pull down your panties when he stopped you.

"Not those," he said roughly, and you gulped and nodded. You had never seen this side of him before, and you felt like your brain was short circuiting. Sure, he used to be gruff and a bit of an asshole when you first met, but whenever you had slept together, he was usually very soft and attentive. He tilted his head towards the table.

"Hands," was all he told you, and you immediately turned to flatten your sweaty palms against the old, smooth wood. You hardly ever found a reason to be embarrassed around him anymore, but when he tapped your ankle to make your legs widen and he spread your ass so he could see the mess you had made between your legs, you felt the heat burning into your cheeks.

You jutted your hips back, eager to feel his fingers on your aching center, but he refused to touch you where you needed him most. Instead, he slid his cock between your legs, rubbing himself against your clothed heat, languidly thrusting back and forth.

"Joel," you whined, the ache inside you becoming painful. Your eyes shot open and you let out a yelp when his hand came down on your ass, your skin stinging from the aftershock.

"What'd you call me?" he muttered angrily in your ear. You had no idea how he was able to restrain himself this long when you thought your legs were already about to give out from under you.

"M-Mr. Miller. I'm sorry," you moaned, your head falling forward between your shoulders as he continued to rub himself against you.

"Messin' up a lot today," he mumbled behind you. You screwed your eyes shut as the tip of his cock prodded your clit, your lower abdomen tightening with each thrust. Joel watched each time he pulled back as his cock glistened with your arousal, even through your underwear, your inner thighs were slick and wet. Knowing you couldn't see him, he allowed a grin to spread across his lips, loving how docile he made you in a matter of minutes.

"Please," you whimpered, desperately begging for him to relieve you.

"Please what?" he shot back, squeezing your hips as he continued to drag his cock against your folds.

"Please fuck me, Mr. Miller," you croaked, on the brink of tears. Joel chuckled at the strain in your voice.

"First sensible thing you said all day," he told you, pushing his jeans and boxers further down his legs. "But tell me why I should listen to you, when you don't bother listenin' to me?"

"I'll listen!" you cried out, your fist pounding on the table in frustration. "I'll listen... just, please," you said softer now, "please, please, please." You sounded pathetic, begging for him bent over a rickety old table in some beat up town, but you only had one primary need at the moment, and you couldn't think about anything else.

"Good girl," he whispered against your ear, and you shuddered underneath him. He hooked a finger inside the soaked fabric and pulled them to the side, revealing your aching cunt to him. He hissed through his teeth, desperate to touch you but he knew you wanted it even more, so he refrained.

He lined his leaking cock up against you, just barely touching you, but the contact made your whole body jump, your nerve endings acting like fireworks under your skin.

"Gotta be still," he muttered, and he waited for your breath to even out and your body to stop fidgeting before he continued. He leaned forward, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"I ain't gonna be gentle," he warned you, then dropped his voice to a whisper before adding "tell me if it's too much." You whined and tipped your head back, but he waited until he heard you whisper back okay before pushing himself inside you with one quick motion, bottoming out with a heavy groan.

Your walls fluttered around him at the sudden intrusion, frantically trying to accommodate his size as he pulled back and slammed into you again and again, punching the air from your lungs.

"Oh, fuck," you cried out, falling to your elbows on the table. His grip on you was sure to leave marks as he pulled your hips back against him over and over, driving himself as deep as possible inside you. The burn that was akin to pain quickly dissolved to pleasure as your body relaxed and welcomed him in, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix with each snap of his hips.

Two leftover tears fell from your eyes and landed on the table when you squeezed them shut, your jaw slack as he rammed into you, each time hearing a soft grunt from his throat from the effort. He leaned forward and ran a hand under your shirt and up your stomach, yanking down on your bra and freeing your right breast, which he greedily squeezed in his palm before pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making you squeak.

"Fuck me, Joel," you said breathily, and your eyes quickly snapped open at your mistake. "I mean-"

His hand disappeared from your breast and rested gently on your ass, rubbing the already pink skin as he waited for you to correct yourself.

"You wanna try that again?" he asked, attempting to show you mercy.

"Mr. Miller," you said shakily. "Fuck me, Mr. Miller." But you chewed on your lower lip, your breath shallow as you braced for impact anyway. Joel raised an eyebrow as he slowed his hips, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smug grin.

"You want it, anyway, don'tcha?" and you nodded, your teeth sinking into your lower lip now so hard you were sure you would draw blood. You let out a gasp of relief when his hand came down again on your ass, the stinging on your skin spreading throughout your whole body, drawing out a filthy moan.

"Fuck," he muttered, and he could tell he was beginning to lose himself in you. He quickly pulled your right leg up so your knee was resting on the table, opening your hips even more as he picked up a ruthless pace. His left hand released your hip in favor of gripping your shoulder while his right hand acted as a brace for your leg so it wouldn't slide down to the ground.

"Please, Mr. Miller, I need..." you groaned and dropped your forehead to the table for a moment when the angle changed, and he began hitting that sweet spot inside you only he could find.

"Whaddya need?" he panted through clenched teeth, his hand squeezing your shoulder to keep you still as he pounded into you, chasing his release.

"Need you to touch me," you whimpered pathetically, bringing your head back up, doing your best to stay upright and not collapse into a puddle on the table.

"I think only good girls get that," he said lowly, his eyes dark as he watched the side of your face contort in pleasure. "Do'ya think you've been good?"

"No," you whispered, shaking your head.

"Why weren't you good?" he questioned you, the power now going straight to his head.

"Because I didn't listen," you admitted weakly. He nodded and hummed in agreement.

"And what're you gonna do from now on?" he pressed, leaning forward so he could make sure he heard you answer.

"I'm gonna listen," you told him, and he grinned from ear to ear.

"That's right," he said, his right hand traveling under your elevated hip to reach your clit, pressing firm circles over the bundle of nerves and eliciting a groan from your mouth. He could tell by the way you were squeezing him that you were right on the edge of an orgasm. His fingers picked up the pace, swirling around your clit with the expertise and knowledge only he had over your body.

"I always take care of you, don't I?" he gasped in your ear, feeling his own orgasm approaching. You nodded, your heart trapped in your throat as you tipped over the edge, your vision going spotty and curses falling from your lips. He gently sunk his teeth into your shoulder blade and removed his hand once he felt your weak thrusts trail off.

"Shit, sweetheart, I'm close," he grumbled, dropping the act and letting his eyes slide shut as he rested his forehead against your upper back, his left hand still firmly planted on your shoulder. He felt your body shudder underneath him, an aftershock of your own climax.

"Come inside me," you said softly, and his eyes snapped open, not sure if he imagined it or not.

"What?" he rasped, and when you repeated yourself, but louder, his breath caught in his throat. He had only done that once before.

You could feel his hesitation, so you turned your head to the side, trying to catch his eye.

"It's okay," you assured him, trying to wordlessly explain that, like before, the timing of your cycle will work out in your favor, knowing that you were about to get your period any day.

He groaned, the unexpected permission to fill you sending him careening towards the brink. He slammed into you mercilessly, and you winced as you tried to breathe through the overstimulation, knowing he was close when his hips stuttered against you. He let go with a loud moan, falling forward as his hips slowed, filling you with his hot spend.

He gasped against your back, his breath hot through your shirt as his hips involuntarily thrusted shallowly forward until he stilled, quietly catching his breath.

"My leg," you reminded him after a moment. Your hips were sore from the angle, and your body was giving up on you.

"Oh, right," he murmured, picking himself off you and sliding out of you with a hiss. He hooked his finger back around your panties and put them back in place, effectively trapping the sticky mess against you, but you didn't care. Your body felt weak and you just wanted to collapse to the floor, which is exactly what you did. Joel joined you, his eyes closed with the back of his head resting against the wall. He blindly tucked himself back into his jeans with a sigh.

You rolled your head to the side to take in his relaxed face, eyes still closed as he breathed deeply. With a grunt, you stood up and scooped your jeans off the floor, shoving your legs back through them carelessly and then squatted to lace your boots up. You looked back up to find Joel watching you, his face breaking out into a smirk when your eyes met.

"C'mon, Mr. Miller. We should head out soon," you teased, smacking his leg as you straightened up.

"I like that a little too much," he said with a sigh as he stood to help you pack up the books in the duffel bag.

The ride home was relatively quiet, the both of you exhausted. The sway of the horse and the feeling of him everywhere was enough to knock you out cold. You thought at one point you may have dozed off against his back for a few minutes, but you weren't sure.

When you arrived back in Jackson, the sun had just set. You slid down from your horse with a wince. Riding a horse in general made your hips and back sore, but combined with the events of the afternoon made your legs almost crumble when you hit the ground, but Joel was right there to catch you, like he was expecting it.

"Told you I always take care of you," he muttered in your ear, and you smiled.

You walked hand in hand slowly down the street, the string lights twinkling above your heads, as you made your way home. When you passed by Tommy and Maria's house, Tommy poked his head out the door to get your attention.

"Why don't you guys join us? Maria made stew," Tommy offered, and you felt your stomach rumble at the words. You briefly thought about declining and just going back home to sleep, but ultimately your hunger won out.

"You look wiped," Maria said after dinner, joining you on the couch while the men made themselves drinks in the kitchen.

"Yeah, long day. I haven't done a trip like that in a while," you told her, readjusting slightly on the couch. The dried mess between your legs had become incredibly uncomfortable and you were dying to go home, but you were too lazy to move.

"And we agreed you ain't doin' any more for a long time," Joel said, entering the room with Tommy.

"That right?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You glanced back and forth between the two brothers before slowly nodding.

"Yeah," you said. "Not for a few weeks."

"Months," Joel corrected, sitting next to you on the couch and draping an arm around your shoulders.

"Months," you repeated after a moment, and Joel had to bring his glass up to his lips to hide his smirk.

Tommy shrugged and asked Maria where a certain record was, causing the two of them to stand in search for it, bickering about who was the last to see it. Joel leaned into you and planted a soft kiss on the side of your head.

"Good girl," he murmured, making you blush. You agreed to his terms for now, but you knew the disagreement was far from over.

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