#you got him trotting and prancing~

[steed-of-waloed]

"You are most perceptive. Mayhap you are more but rippling pecs and shinny abs. Which I must say, are quite fetching~" The colt before him was all but happy to roam his eyes unceremoniously over the fit warrior before him. He had the body of a man who knew a battle just as well as how to soothe a spooked mare's heart. What a fascinating human indeed.

At the question of his own name he stood proudly, giving his most elegant bow before this new stranger.

"I am Lord Commander, Sleipnir Harbard, Steed of Odin the Warden of Ash and King of Waloed. Stallion of Darkness~"

"There is no hooves faster nor stronger than I, m'lord~"

"I know the walk and movements of a prized stallion." His smokey, silver eyes watched as the beast all but pranced and preened around him wetting his lips lightly as he looked him up and down appraising his features. "You may call me, Khal Drogo. And you, fine one?"

[writersdrug]

Convincing bartender Simon to make one of those overly decorated and sweet cocktails or even add it to the menu because it’s cute and you know it’d do well on the gram and attract the ladies. He’d huff and puff but do it anyway

Like one of these with cotton candy, glitter, and sprinkles etc!: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/825988387943179970/

OMG wait I soooo want to try that-

The video ends, and Simon stares at the picture of the drink with a furrowed brow.

"Looks like somethin' you'd see at a bridal shower." He comments, handing you back your phone.

"Doesn' it?" You say with a smile, shoving your phone into your back pocket. You lean your arms over the bar and poke his side. "Come oooonnnnnn, Simon - imagine how many sales you'd make on something like that! People would love it."

"Imagine the money I'd lose, havin' t' buy bags of candy floss..." he grumbles, hiding his smirk behind his mask when you groan dramatically.

"You could do it as a promotional thing...? Like- ladies' night... in October?"

He snorts. "'Ladies' Night in October', hmm? N' what are ladies celebratin'?"

"Ok, fine- forget Ladies' Night. What about something for Halloween?"

"Like wot?" He grunts, grabbing a glass from the stack and pouring out one of the taps.

"I dunno... something fun, but practical - Oh! You could- like a Moscow Mule, but just serve it in a different glass and use edible glitter!"

Simon quirks his brow as he slides the beer glass to a customer. "Edible glitter?" He asks, wiping his hands on his rag. "Didn't know there was such a thing."

You nod quickly, your eyes full of excitement. "Yeah! God, I could pick up a bunch from the baker's supply down a few blocks. You could call it 'Witches' Brew.'"

He turns it over for a moment - in his opinion, it's ridiculous. He runs a pub, not a college bar. He would have scoffed at the idea of someone else had brought it up - but, it's you bringing it up, and that's a completely different story. You have such a brilliant gleam in your eye that melts his heart. He can't say no to you, especially after making you cry last week. He's still carrying out his penance for that.

"You think it'd sell?"

"Oh, for sure! I can make an insta post about it to get some attention."

He clicks his tongue, turning to the POS and seemingly uninterested by it. "Fine - if you spend anythin' promotin' it, let Price know. He'll reimburse ya."

You let out a triumphant whoop and slide of the barstool. He lets out a huff as you trot back to your tables, a noticeable pep in your step. He chances through the window on the kitchen door to see if his food is ready - what he's met with is Johnny's face, staring through the warming counter as he stands at the stove, a smug grin resting on his lips.

Simon can practically hear the cook's thoughts. Whipped bastard.

You had left without saying goodbye that night. You waited by the counter, rocking eagerly on your toes as Simon grabbed your tips from the night before out of the safe. As soon as he handed them to you, you snatched them and ran out the door. He was a bit irked by that, standing there with a stubborn frown as you pranced out of the restaurant - maybe you're still not back to being cheeky and chipper yet after last week. He can live with that... for now.

However, not twenty minutes later, you come stumbling back in with a paper bag in hand and a smile on your face, panting like you'd just run a marathon. Simon's anxieties quell at the sight of you.

"Got it!" You say breathlessly, walking to the edge of the bar and dropping the bag onto it. Simon folds his arms over his chest as you reach in and pull out a small bottle of glitter. You hand It to him and he takes it, holding it up to the dim light above.

"You can eat this shit?" He asks, brows furrowed.

"Mhmm!" You chirp, settling into a barstool. "Now, bartender - I'll have a Moscow Mule."

He sets the glitter down and grabs a clear glass, working on gathering the ingredients. "Ya only call me that when you want something."

"I'm calling you what you are." You respond, watching as he skillfully mixes everything together, pouring vodka from the jigger between two fingers, tossing in lime juice and topping it off with ginger beer. As shameful as it is to admit, you're kinda attracted to the skill he presents.

"Should be callin' me boss." He says, topping the drink off with a straw.

You slide off your stool and chuckle. "Yeah, you'd be into something kinky like that."

Simon has to bite the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the thought of you - nope. He won't even entertain the idea. He simply steps back a bit as you wedge yourself behind the bar (yes, he actually forces himself to give you enough room - he doesn't need you feeling hiw aroused he is).

You grab a bottle of the glitter and dash some into the drink. After swirling it with the straw, the liquid becomes iridescent with purple shimmer that billows about the glass. You look up at him with a satisfied smile.

"Witches' Brew." You announce, holding the drink out to him.

You look happy - an observation that makes Simon smile, even if he wasn't the one to cause your happiness. He lifts his mask, grabs one of the straws and plugs it, before bringing it to his mouth and sampling the drink.

"Tastes like a mule."

"But it looks like a potion, right?"

"'S this glitter goin' to be in my gut whenever I get autopsied?"

You laugh, grabbing the glass and leaving Simon behind the bar. "That would be a cute party trick." You call over your shoulder.

Simon watches you, arms folded over his chest and his eyes curious. You set the drink on the opposite end of the bar, pulling your phone from your pocket and pointing the camera to the glass. You grimace; your arm reaches over the bar to grab the rag lying over the faucet, and quickly wipe down the bartop. He huffs, grabbing his phone from the register and pulling up his group text with Soap and Price.

Ghost: got ourselves a marketing team.

He looks back up at you - you're hunched over, taking picture after picture of the drink. You twirl the straw in the liquid every few seconds, kicking up the glitter and making it reflect the low lighting of the bar.

Hus phone buzzes.

Price: ??

Ghost: she's making a drink for october and promoting it in social media

Soap: clever girl

Soap: what drink?

Ghost: moscow mule, but in a clear glass and with some edible glitter shit. it's pretty neat.

Soap: picture?

Price: Promoting? Will this cost me anything?

Simon chuckles. He pulls up the camera on his phone and aims it at you-

Except you're in a different position. You're perched so nicely on a barstool, holding your phone at arm's length and your drink in the other hand. You're smiling up at your camera, nose scrunched as you pose for a selfie. Your hair is down, your back is arched, and - did you tug your neckline down? You most certainly did. You're breasts weren't that pronounced before.

Without thinking, Simon takes a photo. The shutter clicks loudly: you look at him, as do the three patrons sitting at the bar.

Fuck. He panicks, clearing his throat and lowering his phone. "Jus' showin' the lads what you're up to." He says, but you can see the tension in his shoulders as he quickly sends the picture to the chat and puts his phone in his pocket.

You smirk - whether it was truly just for Price and Soap, or if it was for himself, you felt a little flattered that you'd caught him in the act. You hoped for the latter.

Simon exhales heavily and rests his palms on the counter. His face burns beneath his mask as he tries to calm his racing heart. Fuck- was that weird? Course it fuckin' was. Goddamn creep.

His phone buzzes again. He sighs and pulls it into his hand.

Price: Cute thing, isn't she?

Simon immediately frowns, any previous shame now replaced with a fire in his chest.

"Fuckin' wot?"

[hedgehog-moss]

Today was very sunny so I went on a nice long walk in the woods with Pirlouit, to stock up on kindling for the winter. He was walking jauntily, I think he really does enjoy going on little missions with his baskets! Now and then I tied him to a tree surrounded by enough vegetation to keep him busy for a bit, and I gathered wood all around him while singing to him. Avec le soleil et le vent ♪ avec la pluie et le beau temps ♫ on vivait bien contents ♪ mon âne, ma Provence et moi ♫ (Technically this song says cheval, not âne, but I always replace the word horse with donkey so my songs are more interesting to him. The only donkey songs I know are very sad, like Le petit âne gris which ends with "Poor beast of burden, abandoned by men, he died without a farewell", I can't possibly sing this to Pirlouit. He already has a resting sad face that he can't do anything about.)

I heard leaves crunching behind us, a few times. Steps. Discreet steps. I turned around, looking for the deer who was apparently following us from a distance.

^ Do you see her? Right in the middle. I saw her immediately, but only because I have had so much practice.

Hello, Pampérigouste.

Sometimes all she wants is to be witnessed. "Aha, do you see me? I'm out of my pasture!! You lost! Look at me" and then I'm like "I see you, Pampe. Wow!! How ever did you fool me again?" and she goes home, having ticked this off her Sunday morning to-do list.

But today she wanted to play. Instead of going home she kept trotting away from me in the direction of the road; this hilarious game is known as "Can you catch me before I'm on the road? :)"

I did not want to play. I had wood to gather, and Pirlouit was still tied to his tree and he hates being left behind, like a poor beast of burden abandoned by men. He was already braying angrily. I decided to wash my hands of Pampe, which sometimes works to make her go home. You need to act supremely uninterested in her for it to work. If you glance back at her she'll assume you're still playing, and continue prancing about in the woods.

I'm great at not glancing back. If Eurydice was my llama I would have saved her no problem. I went back to collecting wood, never paying attention to Pampe, even when Pirlouit turned around and stared in the direction of the road, his ears alert, doing his best to inform me that Pampe was going in this not-allowed direction.

Stop it, Pirou. We're ignoring her. Do you want me to leave you alone again? I bet she'll get bored before she even reaches the road, and if she doesn't, well, godspeed. Someone somewhere will get a free llama and she will be their problem. (I had a busy to-do list of my own for this afternoon so the question of how she escaped from her pasture is a problem for tomorrow-me.)

But then I went home and drafted some Pirlouit photos on tumblr to write a post tonight about our wood-gathering walk—and I read some asks from this week that I hadn't yet got around to reading, and I found this. (@confusedpersonsposts Thank you for sending it!) A wandering llama, terrorising horses. The article says this happened Sunday morning.

(I really love the shade that makes this look like a police lineup)

The second ask said "yesterday" (and was from a few days ago)—but the first one I saw was the message with the screenshot from the article, which said Sunday morning, which was exactly when I left Pampe walk away by herself and told her to go be someone else's problem.

For a second, in my brain, it made some kind of sense.

[forsworned]

˗ˏˋcrazy cat lady ft. poly!tf141ˎˊ˗

꒰ঌa/n໒꒱ something about simon and cats is just really pullin at my heart strings tn, for @chamomiletealeaf bc she wanted more :)

꒰warning(s)suggested polyship, fluff꒱

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋrequests are openˎˊ˗

"God, not again."

Simon groaned, as he caught her feeding the alley cats. That piqued Johnny's interest as he walked into the living room area where Simon was standing. He peeked over his shoulder and saw her open a can of tuna-salmon wet food and tipped it into the bowls that she "sneakily" set outside. The alley cats all surprisingly patient as they sat with tails tucked around their forms.

"Well 'll be damned, she's got 'em trained." Kyle's voice interjected, making Johnny jump a little but his grin grew as he folded his arms. Simon only shook his head.

"Ahh, how sweet." Price popped his head in and his gaze was tender as he laid his eyes on her. His once furrowed brows relaxed at the sight of her petting one of the cats heads' as it headbutted her palm and let her glide over its spine to the tip of its tail. Another rubbing itself against her thigh and a third prancing around her as it lightly brushed its black, bushy tail around her waist.

"Jus' admit it, L.t., 's cute." Johnny nudged Simon with a good natured grin. Simon leered at him for a moment before returning his attention to witness her gawking up at them doe-eyed and caught redhanded. Her lips curled into a charming, girlish grin that was enough to make any mans heart stop. She raised her hand to wave at them and they all chuckled, peering down at her with endearing expressions, well, minus Simon.

He felt his temple twitch as he attempted to glare at her, but even he wasn't impervious to her invisible shackles that she placed around his wrists years ago. His jaw ticked as he walked away from the window, leaving the guys behind to adore her coquettish behaviorisms, mumbling something about her being a 'crazy cat lady'.

"C'mere, y'lil cunt."

He growled, at the skittish calico kitten that refused to come out from behind the rubbish bin. He was growing more impatient by the moment, cursing himself for not having more of a natural disney princess touch the way [name] did with animals, specifically felines. A sharp exhale leaves his nose as he palmed his face. It had been fifteen freakin' minutes since he had decided to walk out in the chilly February night air with a can of cat food to lure out one of the kitties that he had saw her feeding earlier. Frustrating was simply an understatement.

A girlish giggle was heard behind him and his body went rigid.

Bloody fuckin' hell.

"Feedin' that damn cat again, weren't ya?" She mimicked his deep, gravelly Manchester accent. As atrocious as it was, he couldn't help but chuckle at her impersonation of him.

"Startin' to sound like a cunt, aren't I?" He retorted. It was a pleasant, lighthearted banter. She chuckled as she crouched beside his towering figure, and made a kissing noise while rubbing his fingers together at the calico and the kitty meowed in delight as she* trotted over to her and welcomed her pets.

*calicos are almost always female

"You gotta make yourself less menacing, Si. Crouch." It was a gentle command as she continued to lovingly stroke the cat. He sighed as he mimicked her position and glanced over at her to wait for her next instruction. "Go on."

She urged him to repeat her exact gestures. He surveyed the way the calico rubbed against her in envy. She could feel his green little monster eyes on her and it made her lips twitch into a smug smile. "Don't got all night, Si."

He narrowed his eyes at her before--reluctantly--repeating her kissing noises and rubbing motion with his fingers at the calico and she meows at him and quickly rushes over to his hand. Simon's eyes immediately softened at the contact. Warm, pure and loving. There was nothing like the little gesture of a kitten welcoming little pets on the forehead as they rubbed their fluffy cheeks against his fingers, down their spine to the tip of their tail. A relieved sigh emitted from his lips and [name] giggled.

He peered up at her for a moment before looking back down to see a black kitten had joined their little party around the opposite side of his leg, rubbing its pink nose against his thigh. Although it was remarkably menial, Simon's mask had arched upwards, indicating that he was indeed smiling. Another chuckle escaped from her as she relished in the rare sight. Simon petting alley cats he was always complaining about to the guys that [name] would bring around due to her sweet-natured behavior that wouldn't allow her heart to just let these animals to just be restive pests that ransacked their waste bins? Unheard of.

"They're just like you." She mused, as she continued to pet the calico. She laughed knowing that he was raising a curious brow at her, waiting for her to continue before she spoke up again. "Skittish as hell."

A short silence.

"Thinkin' they were more like you." He spoke up, still petting the black kitten. She turned to him waiting for a irascible remark, but he peered up at her with a tender gaze as he lifted his free hand to gently pinch her cheek. "Cute as hell."

Her eyes reamed at his words and his adoring touch. Her heart soared in her chest and she couldn't help the way her lips simpered and the way her cheeks warmed pleasantly. A syrupy sweet moment that she was already etching into her brain, and Kyle was capturing forever in his phone as Price and Johnny snickered, beholding the saccharine and cushy side of Simon that came out more and more around her.

"Send this to me." Johnny crowed, with a wolfish grin.

"Ditto." Price bit back his low chuckle but it slipped when he saw the way [name] leaned her head against Simon's shoulder and he didn't even take a beat before he carded his fingers though her hair.

"Fuckin' hell." Kyle's shoulder's were shaking as he muffled the pure joy running through his system. It was indeed a sight for sore eyes.

[shadow4-1]

“Dying alone.” You hummed, running the brush through your horse’s hair. “Y’know, it’s been weighing on me.”

Price huffed out a soft breath and nuzzled his graying muzzle against your palm. You smiled at him, rubbing your knuckles over the soft fuzz of his snout. When you’d first got him he’d been a young workhorse too ornery for any ranch hand in the county. After doing some research, you figured out he was a European breed, one not meant for the rough hands of your fellow Americans. You’d gotten him cheap, and yet his training came at a ‘price’. It took awhile for you to learn his ins an outs but he quickly grew to become your favorite - as well as your oldest. He was the first member of your ranch after all.

“I’ve never wanted to look for a man. They’re so gross, Price.” You sighed, working a few tangles out of his short, dark mane. “They always say they want me for me, but really they just want the ranch.”

There was a short bark from the door of the barn. A black and white, muscular dog stood waiting for your command. You tsked at him and he slowly came trotting up to you, head low to the ground in a submissive posture. The closer he came, the more you noticed the white fur surrounding his eyes and snout - starting to gray like Price’s.

“C’mere Ghost.” You hummed.

The dog obliged and pressed the top of his head into your hand. Ghost was such a mutt. You’d picked him up as a pup from a mean roadside vendor. If you had to guess, he had some kind of German Shepherd in him. Maybe some Rottweiler or Pit Bull? You couldn’t be sure. But what you did know, is that -

“Aw, look at my best boy! You’re my best boy!” You baby talked, squishing his chunky face. Ghost just licked his lips in indignation but made no move to escape your hold. Price snorted loudly and pawed at the ground, upset that you stopped brushing his mane.

“Okay okay. I get it.” You laughed. “Let me just finish up here!”

-

There wasn’t any field tending that needed to be done, so you sent Price off to the fenced in pasture. Despite his age, he kicked up dirt and pranced about in delight. You smiled at the old horse before heading back to the barn. Ghost sat patiently outside, his metal tags glinting in the sunlight.

“Okay, boy. Show time.”

And just like that, all hell seemed to break loose. Ghost ran into the barn and started to bark. While usually subdued, this time his bark was loud and mighty. The sheep and cows stirred in their pens. The chickens squawked from their roosts. You threw open the barn with a mighty heave. And just like that, the animals were also let out into the fenced pasture.

The cows bounded out happily, their bells clanging. Then came the half dozen sheep and their young lambs, followed by a dozen assorted chickens. You sprinkled chicken feed and enjoyed the morning mayhem. A rooster made himself known from the pack by standing up straight, puffing out his chest, and crowing with so much might you thought he might hurt himself. You poured a bit of feed in your hand before crouching down.

“Here Johnny, Johnny.” You giggled, shaking your hand.

The large rooster strutted up to you with absolutely no fear. He ruffled his feathers and clucked at you before eating the feed right out of your hand. When he was done, he let you pet him. If you wanted to pick him up, you easily could’ve. Most mornings you spent with him on your hip. Despite how amazing of a rooster he was, he never got violent with you. Now, any other hired help, it was a different story. Come to think of it, none of your animals really worked for anyone else but you.

“Sorry Johnny.” You sighed, standing up and taking a step back. “Gotta trim-woah!”

Something hard nudged firmly against your rear. You regained your balance and looked behind you.

“Kyle!” You scolded. “Yes, yes! You’re going out to the pasture too!”

The large billy goat bleated at you and rubbed the top of his de-horned head against your hip, as if to scratch himself on your belt. With a soft pat to his head, you lead him through the pasture and farther into the green grass. It took him a minute, but after taking a glance at Price on the other end of the field, he began to run towards him. The two creatures met in the middle and began to play.

You weren’t entirely sure why those two got along so well, but they certainly did. Price playfully nipped at Kyle’s short tail. Kyle just bleated in excitement and tried to ram his head into the old horse’s leg. They were a funny little duo, that was certain.

And with that, you began to finish up your morning chores. You collected the eggs and the fresh milk from the gallon jugs in the barn. You cleaned up the stalls and polished Price’s riding tack. Once you made sure everyone had fresh food and water you decided to go inside and clean up. Today was an easy day. All you would be responsible for was to bring the animals back in as well as feed yourself.

You showered, dressed in a flowy white sundress, and headed outside. You sat out in the pasture, under the shade of the old oak tree and your floppy sun hat. This day was like no other. After enjoying a bowl of fruit and a glass of iced tea it didn’t take long for you to doze off in your favorite lawn chair.

-

You dreamed that you were taking Price back to the stables after a good ride around the ranch. It was late, and the southern heat was oppressive. You wiped the sweat off Price’s back with an old towel as your removed his tack.

“Y’know. Despite your age, y’ still give a girl a great ride.” You chuckled at the old horse. You rubbed his snout. He snorted at you and you giggled. “You have no clue what I’m talking about.”

With another laugh, you turned to the stall's gate. You opened it just enough to reach to the built in shelf next to it. You dug your hand into a small box and swiped a handful of sugar cubes from within it. You turned, hand outstretched to offer it to Price. Except, when you turned, there was no longer a horse.

Standing there, completely nude, was a human man.

You gasped in shock and took a step back, hitting the edge of the stall’s wall. He took a step forward, blue eyes glittering. He eyed the sugar cubes you now clutched tightly in your palm. He reached forward, prying them from your grip, before hungrily tossing them into his mouth. He ate them with no discomfort and even smiled as he swallowed them down.

“Thanks, Love.” He licked his lips, remnants of the glittery sugar still caught in his mustache.

“P-Price?” You squeaked.

“Who else would it be?”

You had half a mind to run, but you were so enamored with the thought that your precious horse could be a human. He stepped even farther forward, boxing you into the corner of the wooden stall. Your head hit the wall, making the various items hung up shudder from the impact. Price unhooked one of the ancient reins away from the top of your head before dropping it into the fresh hay at your feet. He admired his hands for a second and so did you.

“I-you-wh-what is going on?” You managed out. “This is some kind of joke, right?”

Price didn’t seem to hear you as he tried to get a feel for his own body. You watched in shock and arousal as he flexed his arm muscles and observed the firm ripples of his own chiseled abdomen. He petted down his belly and admired the thick curls that trailed over his cock. He gripped at it, tugged at it experimentally before seeming to realize something important.

“Ready for that ride, Love?”

[sukunastoy]

Heyyy babe, welcome back 💗💗 You asked for some Sukuna prompts, and maybe this could be something for you: CEO Sukuna coming home to us after a long, stressful day, and we help him de-stress. Maybe some needy kitchen-sex while he's cooking dinner? Or some sexy time in the bathtub?

Have fun!! I am sending you lots of love 💗💗

Hello baby!! <3 I've missed writing so much! I certainly hope you enjoy this!! I know I did. Thanks for the prompt @yuujispinkhair !!

Dessert~NSFW Pairings: Fem! Reader x CEO Hubby! Sukuna (non curse AU) CW/TW: Oral, both m and f receiving/giving, unprotected sex, hair pulling, vaginal penetration. WC: 1.4K+

Enjoy~!

Managing an entire company must be an adruous task. Keeping up with all the meetings, business trips and organizations is nothing you could ever fathom doing. But, your husband was good at it. In fact, he excelled in all the strenuous requirements. You've popped into his office a time or two when surprising him for lunch and caught him in action. His tone and demeanor were so different when he focused on work, you couldn't help but admire him for it. It was because of him you had a lavish little life, and you never wanted to take that for granted.

So when he came home this evening, looking completely worn out and irritated, you wanted him to know how thankful for him you were. Despite him managing all day, he still enjoyed cooking when he got home. You weren't denied cooking dinner for him, but it was something that relaxed him, so you did your best to leave it up to him. Besides you were a klutz in the kitchen who could somehow catch water on fire if you weren't paying attention. Your fame shined as his little sous chef. Handing him things and taking care of the minor tasks were your responsibility. You'd smile proudly in your little apron as you mixed things on the stove or cut up something for him to use.

After your husband changed into a different flawless outfit, he headed towards the kitchen. Normally you'd trot right along side him ready to help, only this time you lagged behind for a moment. Once Sukuna realized you weren't standing near him, he glanced back to the entrance of the kitchen, curious to where you were. Of course, you were there for him to see, but this time, with only your apron on. He cocked a brow to your lack of clothing, but had no complaints as you pranced passed him to the pantry, ready to get some ingredients for him. Oh, he will probably need the bag of rice, and that's at the bottom, better bend over to grab it. You don't even need to see Sukuna to know he's zeroed in on your shamelessly exposed cunt. Such a dangerous act. Despite your little teasing, your husband was a man of composure. As you helped him prepare to cook, he certainly let it be known that he was paying attention to how you walked and continued to purposely show off. You knew it was just riling him up inside. "Here. Taste this." He finally broke the silence, turning to you and offering a spoon with a small amount of sauce on it. You smiled to him before letting your mouth drop open and your tongue hang out, looking up to him like you were posing for a cum shot to the face. A smirk tugged at his lips as he took hold of your jaw, slightly squishing your cheeks together with his fingers. He fed the sauce into your mouth, and you closed your lips around the spoon, moaning in satisfaction at the flavor. Even if you were being promiscuous in this moment, everything he made was truly delicious. "Taste good?" You nodded while sucking the spoon clean, letting a little dribble down your lip. You cleaned it with your tongue, looking up to him again from under your lashes.  "Anything else I can taste?"

Absolutely there was. It didn't even surprise you that Sukuna could still keep so much focus on the stove and what he was cooking while you were on your knees, desperately sucking his cock. You held onto his muscled thighs through his pants while fucking your throat with his length. Ocassionally, youd catch his gaze and you'd whimper in delight, seeing the absolute pleasure and approval upon his face. He might be quiet and reserved, but you've known him long enough to decipher what he's truly feeling. Especially when you're servicing his dick like this. The aromas of dinner filled the air, but all you could really inhale was his scent. A deep groan left his throat while his cock twitched down yours. You gathered his heavy balls into one of your hands, gently giving them a squeeze. 

Another sigh of pleasure left his lips and he suddenly wrapped his fingers into your hair, tugging you back from his cock. Your sloppy mouth made a pop as you were pulled away, tongue hanging out again as you longed to continue. He looked down to your watery eyes, drinking in the sight of how you were obviously struggling to keep him down your throat just seconds prior.  "Should we have dessert now or after dinner?"

"Why not both?" you smiled innocently up to him, moving forward to nuzzle your face against the head of his throbbing cock. "You've been working so hard, I think you deserve as much dessert as you want tonight." 

Well, you didn't have to tell him twice.

You were pulled off of the ground just seconds later, spun around to be pushed up against the fridge nearby. Sukuna dropped to his knees behind you, lifting one of your legs so he could bury his face into your cunt. His other hand held onto the fat of your thigh below your ass, keeping you pinned against the appliance as he ate you out in such an animalistic way. This man loved to cook, so of course he knew how to eat, and he was so fucking good at it. You moaned against the stainless steel door, the fog of your breath fanning over it as Sukun nipped and sucked in all the right places. Before your leg could give out on you, he stood and used his body as an anchor to keep you pinned in place. Your breasts smooshed together against the surface, nearly popping out from the apron as your husband slipped his cock into your dripping pussy. 

A hiss came from between his teeth as he easily sank balls deep into your soaking cavern. You pushed your hips back, shoving them into his while holding onto the sides of the fridge and curving your back inwards so he could fill you at the best angle possible. He gripped onto your ass, his strong fingers digging into the plump mounds to keep you spread apart as he fucked himself into you. He watched where his cock disappeared into your cunt over and over, eyes fixated on your glossy slick coating him, and the stretch of pink that was suctioning around him with every thrust. 

"Fuck, you feel s'good." he groaned in approval, leaning forward to kiss the side of your neck.  "Kuna...I-I wanna..!"  "So soon already?" He teased against your skin, small pants of his breath tickling over your ear, causing you to shudder. Suddenly he paused, making you whimper out as he glanced off to the side at the oven timer. "'Bout thirty seconds left before dinner is ready, so let me fuck this orgasm out of you real quick." 

You yelped out towards the ceiling as Sukuna's fingers gripped your hair again near the roots, pulling your head back and tilting it so he could kiss the underside of your jaw. Your body melted in his strong hold as he fucked you like a doll against the fridge, every hard thrust causing a little scream to burst from your lips. The head of his dick hammered into your sweet spot, making your walls tighten around him. "That's it sweetheart, cum on your Kuna's cock like a good girl." 

Your head spun as you came, sending you into a delerious high. Your husband held you in place, keeping your shaking body upright as you writhed in ecstacy against the fridge, cunt milking his fat cock buried so deep wihin you. The timer went off and you cried out in unison, your pleasure dripping down your legs as Sukuna fucked you through your orgasm, damn near sending you into a daze of overstimulation. 

Your legs still trembled as you sat across from your husband, trying to eat with composure. You almost envied how he remained so calm and collected, casually eating dinner even though he just fucked you like an animal against the fridge not too long ago. However, his gorgeous eyes would catch your gaze, and you could feel his need to continue growing all over again. Without wasting any time, once the two of you finished your plates, you cleared the table with haste. It wasn't long before your were pinned down over the edge of it, moaning like a whore as you served your husband dessert again, and again, and again.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! <3

P.S. for Yuujispinkhair, I HAD to include the fridge. 🥴

Btw since its been a while since I've actually written anything, I apologize if its not up to par, AND, if you want to be added to my tag list, let me know. <3

As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Blue and Fire Engine Red, Pt 2

Kara shuts the door of her car shut behind her, and smoothes her sweating palms down the front of her jeans. She should have stayed in uniform, she thinks. She’s no longer on shift, but she always feels more confident with a badge pinned to her chest. As it is, wearing jeans and a tee shirt, she feels exposed, as though anyone looking at her would be able to see just how fast her heart is racing.

But she’s come this far-- she can see this through. Exhaling deeply, Kara starts the short walk up the drive to the firehouse’s open bay doors. As she crosses the threshold sounds of activity fills her ears. She glimpses firefighters rolling hoses and mounting them on the engine, and others are buffing the chrome bumper of the ambulance. She catches the eye of one, she thinks she recognizes him from multiple calls– Brainy, she’s heard the others call him. He brightens at the sight of her, and to her horror comes trotting over to greet her. 

“You are approximately 32 minutes late, Sergeant Danvers,” he says precisely. He clasps his hands behind his back. 

“I–I’m sorry?” Kara asks. She hadn’t told anyone she was coming, let alone what time she planned to show up.

“Since I glimpsed you conversing with Lieutenant Reilly, I anticipated you would seek her out. Seeing as your shift ended one hour ago, and the precinct is 30 minutes from the firehouse, you are, by my calculations, late.”

Kara blinks. “There was traffic on the freeway… how did you–?”

“The lieutenant can be found in the gym,” Brainy clips, extending an arm towards the far corner of the engine bay. There, Kara glimpses a glass paneled wall and the outline of a pull-down machine. 

“Thank you,” Kara issues numbly.

“You are most welcome.” Brainy then turns and returns to the ambulance and his chores. By now Kara’s thundering heart has climbed to her throat, but it;s too late to back out now that she’s been seen.

Kara wipes her palms again, nodding to herself. “You can do this,” she murmurs. “Look sharp, Danvers.”

Kara follows the hum treadmills and the clink of weights to the back right corner, where a glass paneled room sat under the spiraling staircase up to the second floor. There she stops, mesmerized by a dark swinging ponytail. Lena.

Lena running.

Lena running in a tank top and spandex shorts. Muscled arms swing in rhythm with her bobbing head, and Kara can glimpse round earbuds nestled in her ears. 

She almost turns away, if only to keep from getting caught ogling. But a sweaty towel smacks Lena in the side of the head, pulling her attention to the young woman smirking off to Kara’s left. Nia, is it?

“Got a visitor, LT!”

Lena’s head swivels towards Kara without breaking stride. Her sweaty features brighten at the sight of her. 

“Sergeant Danvers!” she chirps. She hops onto the strats of the treadmill, taking a moment to tap the machine off before stepping down entirely. She uses Nia’s towel to wipe her glistening face and neck, her breath huffing lightly. Kara’s mouth goes dry. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Kara blinks, giving herself a little shake to re-orientate herself. Then she gives as easy a grin as she can manage. “And give up a free autograph? Not on your life.”

A smirk crosses Lena’s features as Nia steps up to stand at her shoulder. “Autograph?”

Kara plucks her calendar from her bag, giving it a playful flourish. Nia’s brow furrows, then lifts in delight.

“Oh my god! Miss March has a fan?!”

Lena turns towards her coworker with a roll of her eyes. “Nal…”

“Yeah?” 

“Give us a minute, will you?”

“But–!” 

“Nia.”

Nia sighs. “Fiiiiine…” She grabs her water and phone from beside the weight bench, and all but prances out with a smug, knowing smile in Kara’s direction. “Nice seeing you, Sergeant.”

They wait until Nia slips out, leaning them together with nothing but charged air between them. Kara gazes at Lena, who gives a soft smile in return. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Lena smiles back. Her cheeks are flushed, and Kara feels a glimmer of satisfaction at the thought it might not be entirely from exertion. 

“So…” she says. “I have a place or two in mind for that drink. Someplace… friendly.”

Lena gives a slow nod. “I like friendly.”

“Someplace where we could get some privacy.”

Another nod, this time accompanied by a deliberate step forward. “Privacy is good.”

“And, ahhh… one of them just so happens to be walking distance from my place.”

Dark eyebrows lift in surprise, and suddenly Kara finds herself awkwardly trying to reel herself back.

“I mean, you know, in case we can’t drive after. I didn’t mean to imply– not that I expected… um, that.”

Pressing her lips together, Lena waits for Kara to talk herself out. It serves to jolt Kara back into herself; she chuckles. “You going to cut me a break here or what?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Lena returns, grinning. “I’m curious to see how far we’re not going to go on this date.”

Kara laughs. “Okay, okay. Look– what I mean is that I don’t expect anything more than a drink to get to know you better. That’s all.”

With a slow nod, Lena saunters even closer. “Message received,” she murmurs smoothly. “That said…”

She leans in close, until Kara can smell the tantalizing tang of sweat and the subtle fragrance of Lena’s shampoo. Her heart pounds so hard there’s no way Lena can’t hear it.

“If any of that,” Lena continues, “were to follow… I wouldn’t be averse to it.”

Unable to help her answering grin, Kara cocks her head. “Well, before we even get to that, we do have one order of business to get to first.”

She flips the calendar tauntingly between them, even going so far as to let the thing tap against Lena’s chest when she waggles it playfully. Lena glances down sharply, clearly having forgotten the “true” purpose of Kara’s visit. She throws her head back and laughs a full belly laugh that turns Kara’s insides to jello.

“Guess I’ll have to rustle up something to sign that with–”

A marker flies out of nowhere, bouncing off of Lena’s chest. She fumbles to catch it, and Kara lunges for it on reflex. Their heads crack together audibly, and they both stagger apart, cursing.

“Jesus fuck–!”

“Godammit!”

Nia’s voice calls cheerily from outside. “You’re welcome!”

Kara locks eyes with Lena, who grimaces at her. 

“You said something about privacy?”

[chaosandmarigolds]

Coco! You’ve been working close a hundred hours a week whatever comes out of your mouth is GOING to be garbage-

OK??? Well what if I don’t care

Texting

(Also new pronouns?? Idk im experimenting, pls tell me if you hate them or not)

The door creaked as I stepped inside, wincing at the time. It was well past midnight, and the soft glow from the living room was the only light in the house. Simon sat on the couch, arms crossed, seeming to be engrossed in some replay of a football match…or something, I suppose. Riley, lay stretched out at his feet, while Pedro, the cat, watched from his perch on the back of the couch.

In all honestly I could’ve made back to the bed without being noticed it wasn’t for said cat hopping down and meowing at my presence.

“You’re late,” Simon said, his voice low and clipped.

I sighed, dropping my bag by the door, seeing the light of the television flicker off and be replaced with the harsh overhead. “I know. It wasn’t like I planned to be.”

“You didn’t text.”

“I didn’t have time.”

He raised an eyebrow, finally turning his head to look at me. “No time to send a single message? You expect me to believe that?”

I bit back a sharp retort, too tired for this, though I’m too tired for a lot of things nowadays. “It’s not like I’m running around doing it on purpose, Simon. Work was hell tonight.”

“Work’s always hell. Doesn’t mean you can’t tell me you’re alive,” he snapped, standing up now, tension rolling off him in waves. Riley got up too, padding over to me with his ears perked, sensing the shift in the air.

I rubbed a hand over my face. “What do you want me to say? I’m here, okay? I’m fine, everything is fine! Sorry I didn’t check in, but I just didn’t have the time.”

“That’s not the point,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. His frustration was evident on his face and I couldn’t blame him, I would react the same way. “You don’t get it, I sit here alone and you just prance around like some fuckin hotshot when we both know what you do isn’t all sunshine and rainbows so you d-“

“I do get it!” I interrupted, my voice rising. “You think I don’t worry about you every time you walk out the door? That I don’t sit here wondering if you’re lying there in some ditch I,” I stop and groan, “Sorry, off topic.”

He stopped in his tracks, his eyes locking with mine, and I could see the anger melting away, replaced with something softer.

We stared at each other for a long moment, the tension thick in the room. Pedro, who had been sitting perfectly in between us, meowed before trotting off, apparently deciding this was too much drama for him, and Riley whined softly, nudging my hand.

“I’m sorry,” Simon finally said, his voice much quieter now. “I just… I worry. You don’t come home, and my mind goes to the worst places.”

I sighed, the fight draining out of me. “I know. I guess I…I didn’t mean to make you worry. I should’ve texted.”

He nodded slowly, stepping closer. “Leftovers in the fridge, ‘ll warm them up for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, though the smell of food was already tempting.

“So sad,” he insisted, his hand grazing mine. “Go sit down.”

I smiled despite myself. “You’re an ornery bastard.”

“Takes one to know one,” he shot back, but there was a hint of a smile now too.

I settled onto the couch, and as Simon moved to the kitchen, I leaned back with Riley at my feet and Pedro hopping back into my lap. The house was calm again, the argument fading into the background as quickly as it had flared up.

Maybe a text was the least I could do.

—

Lemme know if liked it! Toodles!

[kandyshoppe]

So! I’m going to school to (hopefully) become a farm vet, and I also enjoy those hybrid Aus, SO! Farm Hybrid Au! (Or just farm au!)

Riddle: a rooster, specifically a red cornish. Cornish are known to be a bit aggressive, and finicky. I think he would have been a neglected chick and didn’t get to the full size, instead staying kinda small instead of becoming big like other Cornish.

Trey: Highlander cow, soft, sweet babys! They’re just happy to be here, and are stocky tough cattle. Their coats are double coated, so they can get matted but it’s rare with a proper diet and care.

Cater: a part indoor part outdoor cat, a beautiful orange tabby mix, who goes through moods of cuddle monster and hates everyone. Never a hiss from him, but a grumpy huff and he trots away.

Deuce: mastiff, a guard/live stock guardian dog breed. Big, aggressive to strangers, but love bugs once they get to know you. Specifically a Pyrenean mastiff, they’re polish, and suited for cold weather best.

Ace: definitely a Nubian goat, head strong, rebellious, LOUD, but they’re not aggressive! They’re actually very friendly, to their detriment since they will try to befriend predators!

Leona: farm cat, probably a Maine coon mix, cause he’s so big and fluffy! Maine coons are also very “dog like” and can learn tricks, to play fetch etc. They also tend to have a resting mad face, which Leona seems to have sometimes!

Ruggie: a stray dog that helps hunt vermin on the farm. I feel he wondered up once, and made sure to avoid the live stock (and their guard dogs) and got some rats or something. He doesn’t live on the farm by nearby in the woods with his pack of strays (including granny!)

Jack: another guard dog! Anatolian Shepard, a middle eastern breed suited for colder climates, and lovingly called “nanny dogs” and they will happily let goats jump on them. They’re a bit dominant, preferring to do their own thing vs what others say though.

Azul: cull duck! They’re a bit noisy, enjoying the sound of their own voice. They’re the white ones most people think of for ducks, small and fairly friendly but they do enjoy nibbling to show affection…

Jade: runner duck! They can’t fly, but enjoy scrabbling among rocks to find grubs, or in Jade’s case, mushrooms! They don’t waddle either! They run! They’re not as friendly as other duck breeds, being stand off-ish sometimes.

Floyd: just like his brother, a runner duck. He lives up to the runner in his name! Prances around, and enjoys tormenting the other animals on the farm. Someone stop him! Sneaks up on others and nips their feet. Has been kicked before, it didn’t stop him.

Kalim: brown Swiss, in the top three cattle breeds! They’re known for being fairly docile, calm and friendly. They’re very affectionate, and can get upset when not given affection from their handlers! This boy is BEGGING for ear scritches!

Jamil: Brahman bull, he can get aggressive much easier than Kalim. He’s also a very intelligent boy, as his breed usually is. But they’re also known to be shy, preferring to be alone or with a specific quiet few vs a large herd! Brahmans also are sensitive to the cold, so his hoodie is a need!

Vil: a jersey cow (my favorite!) they’re so pretty, but also the divas of milking cows. But it’s worth it for their thick, buttery and fatty milk! They’re also very curious, choosing to follow new comers vs hiding. They’re very social, but sassy things!

Rook: a trained hawk! (I’ve never seen a trained hawk around chickens but he is!) he was found as a baby and ended up bonding with the farmer I bet, so now he protects the others from birds, and more sneaky attacks! He enjoys sitting with Vil, a strange pair but it works.

Epel: a Southdown sheep, also known as “baby dolls” cause they’re so little and cute! He’s still a ram though, and hates being called cute! Head butts at will! Is mad that Vil has chosen him as their “calf” and follows him around, keeping him out of trouble. Vil’s no fun.

Idia: a British soay sheep, but he’s got a genetic mutation that makes him a deep blue instead of a dark brown. British soay are shy and flighty, they’re timid even among sheep breeds! Idia probably struggles with joining herds because of his color, which makes him more nervous about predators!

Ortho: à shetland sheep, another smaller breed, but quite friendly and inquisitive (which is rare among sheep, I’m sorry they’re dumb) Don’t let his size fool you though! Shetlands are one of the hardiest breeds out there! Small but mighty!

Malleus: a big black shire horse, now I don’t know as much about horses, but shires are docile and friendly draft horses! I bet cause of his size though, many of the other farm animals avoid him cause he’s scary. Shires are sometimes used for riding, and I bet he REALLY enjoys riding!

Lilia: a fell pony! They’re one of the smartest ponies, and while they can be finicky at times because of their intelligence, they are sweet ponies. He’s too intelligent for his own good I bet, enjoying to open the gates and wander out, but doesn’t close it and now EVERYONE is out and about!

Silver: an Icelandic horse (my brother’s favorite), they’re super sweet and hardworking sweethearts, with a beautiful grey coat! One of the friendliest horse breeds in the world, he’s just a big old love bug! Loves rolling around and laying in a nice patch of grass I bet.

Sebek: a shetland pony, but he’s one of the ones who give shetlands a bad rap. He’s nippy, and stubborn, and loves to whiney whenever he can! Likes the sound of his own voice. Is entranced with Malleus, and wants to be a big horse like him one day!

[graves4girls]

☆ let em' know | simon riley

✮ wc. 824 ⚠︎ warning(s): fem!reader just sum thoughts/scenarios abt big boyfie simon

⟡ be sure to check out my work on ao3 → gravesforgirls !!

You loved the attention, all the prying eyes and mutters under their breath as you prance by, hugging his big arm close as he ambles beside you, far less concerned with the curious glances. Be it the stark contrast of his black, beat-up denim jacket and dark balaclava that revealed only that harsh glare, clashing with your pink mini dress and pearly white pumps that–even with a four inch heel–do little to minimize the height difference between you, or maybe it was the mere fact that he held nearly two decades to you, the deep wrinkles between his eyebrows and scarred, muscled hands that easily engulf your own letting you know he's been through more than enough of what life's offered him.

He treads behind you, big hands pushing at the shopping cart as you scan your grocery list, humming to yourself quietly. He can sense the eyes on him, boring into the back of his head as you guide him through the store, and you have to admit it has to look a little funny to see such a burly, big man strolling through the produce section, obediently following you through the store and towering behind you when you ask him which type of cereal he's feeling that week. It isn't anything new to him, and it is a bit humorous when he catches someone's gaze and stares right back–stare unwavering and dark–until they ultimately drop their head as if they were never looking in the first place, but he'd prefer to not be gawked at when he traveled with you.

Without fail, you'll always find something completely unnecessary to gripe about when he brings you to the shops, and he'll swipe whatever it is you'd grabbed on your wander around the store right from your hands and toss it onto the tallest shelf he can find, earning an angry pinch of your eyebrows and a mumble of something under your breath as you attempt to grab it from the very back of the high shelf, to no avail. 

“Y'don't need it. We already have enough shit ‘round the house.” 

He'll grab you and pull you away from the rack, wrapping his big hands around your waist to redirect you toward the front of the store when he ultimately can't find any properly fitted clothes, pressing a kiss to the top of your head through his mask as an amend for not buying you that stupid little pink mixer.

He always carries your bags for you, whether you like it or not. He insists it's only because you'll whine when you inevitably break a nail trying to lug around the heavy bags, but deep down you know he enjoys giving you only the best princess treatment. 

You cling to his arm as you trot around the mall, rambling about something he isn't too sure of anymore, grunting quietly whenever you look at him to see if he's still listening. He's got three bags hanging from one of his hands, effortlessly dragging around the heavy contents as you pull him into that body shop you always seem to gravitate towards. 

“Smell this.”

You shove the small sample towards him, and you giggle when he squints his eyes, and even through the mask you can tell he's scrunching his nose.

“Too strong.” 

You catch an employee eyeing up your mountain of a boyfriend from the corner of your eye, and you bite back a small grin at the swell of pride in your chest at the reminder that the man beside you is all yours. You feign ignorance to the ogling woman as you run your hand down the back of his arm, slipping your fingers between his own when you reach his big hand, gently swinging your arm and leaning your head against his shoulder as you examine the various soaps and lotions, just to drive that knife that little bit deeper. It's not that you were jealous, you just adored showing off your giant guard dog is all.

He yearns for the moment you get to step back into the safety of your home, carrying your bags into the common area and sighing as he finally relaxes back into the soft cushions of the couch, awaiting your inevitable joint company on the sofa as he tugs off the balaclava. He looks tired, but he offers you a ghost of a smile when you eagerly plop down beside him to nuzzle into his side, wrapping your arm around him and sticking a soft kiss to his cheekbone when he slinks his arm around your hip, swiveling his head to press a proper kiss to your plump, velvety lips. The tension in his broad shoulders seems to dissipate some at the gentle action, bringing his other hand around to coax you into his lap, long legs spread out for you to perch yourself on as he nibbles at your bottom lip.

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Thirty-Two

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Even a few nights after that conversation, Fireheart’s body felt lighter, like a massive stone had rolled off of his back and into the dark of the past. Goldenflower, happily, seemed more at ease too; she purred more and her voice warmed to summer-heat again.

The weather was generous, blessedly. Though clouds loomed overhead, they never dropped snow before sailing on past the Aulmir and Houses. Frost stubbornly clung to the trees and stones, but the ground very slowly drank the melting snow and made walking around easier. With the very slight rising of the forest’s temperature, prey curiously poked their heads out of their burrows, making hunting a little more successful than it had been for the rest of the month.

Fireheart and Cloudpaw came back home one night with a mouse and woodrat to their names. Cloudpaw near pranced along, his ginger tail curled over his back and draping its long, fluffy fur along his spine like a second coat. His woodrat was almost too big for him to carry, leaving him to drag it along by its neck as if it were a kitten.

Fireheart paused at the entrance of camp, dropping his mouse to gesture to Cloudpaw. “Go ahead inside. I’m going to bring this to Bluestar.”

Cloudpaw nodded and continued on his way, nearly tripping on the woodrat’s dangling tail. Fireheart watched him go affectionately before picking up the mouse again and trotting to the leader’s den. The lichen curtain had not grown back from its charred state yet, he noticed.

He wrinkled his nose as he entered the den; the air stank of dirty fur and discarded, stale prey. It didn’t take long to find the culprits: Bluestar’s fur stuck up stiffly where she was curled up and all around her shriveled-up nest of dry moss were small bones, sometimes with skin and meat still on them. Bluestar did not appear to notice this, or Fireheart himself. He set down the mouse and cleared his throat.

“Bluestar?” he said, careful to speak quietly to not startle her.

The once-elegant head raised up and she looked around blearily. “Who…wh…”

“It’s Fireheart.” He used a paw to nudge the prey closer. “I brought you some dinner. Can you eat?”

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she twisted around in her nest until she was facing him, but looking anywhere but his face. Her expression was oddly distressed as she stared around herself.

Fireheart tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Mosskit?” Bluestar kept turning her head this way and that, wobbling a little as she did. “Where are you?”

“Mosskit?” Fireheart echoed, confused, then—

Oh no.

“Where…” Bluestar looked to him, foggily frightened. “Where is my Mosskit?”

Fireheart barely had time to recover, answering carefully, “Mosskit is… in the nursery, with—” The Moss- I know is a tortoiseshell, and only mollies are tortoiseshells, right? That’s what Goldenflower told me once. “—with her siblings. She’s sleeping right now. They’re being looked after while they rest. And while you rest.”

“Oh…” Bluestar settled. Even her ears lowered a bit. “I was worried…”

“You don’t have to be,” Fireheart said gently. He nudged the prey again. “We’ve got them taken care of. Here, why don’t you eat? You need to keep up your strength for your kits.”

Bluestar mumbled something that Fireheart thought was, “You’re right… you’re right.” She craned her skinny neck and picked up the mouse loosely, dragging it into her nest. She paused, then looked at Fireheart again. “When can I see them?”

Even you don’t think you have authority anymore. Fireheart wanted to wail, but he held it together and replied cheerfully, “Let’s let them sleep for as long as they need, and then you can, okay?”

“Okay,” Bluestar said with almost kitlike sadness. She looked down at her mouse and half-heartedly pulled at the skin.

“Please eat all of that mouse,” Fireheart said. He stepped forward and nosed her forehead. When she didn’t respond, he held in a sigh and walked out of the den at a casual pace.

Once he was outside, he sprinted for the tunnel, hurrying through and only stopping once he was in camp and had to look around. He located Speckletail quickly; she was talking with Whitecloud near the elder’s den. Without a moment to waste, he rushed up to them, a few of his Clanmates looking at him with curious concern.

Speckletail, halfway through forming a word, stopped and looked at him. “Are you alright, Fireheart?”

“I’m fine,” Fireheart lied, his voice hushed. “Listen, we have a problem.”

Whitecloud leaned his head a little forward in mild alarm, keeping his voice down too. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Bluestar.” Fireheart took a breath to soothe his urge to shake. “She was just asking where her kits are.”

The response was a little delayed, then simultaneous. Speckletail closed her eyes slowly and sighed through her nose, pained. Whitecloud’s ears slid back and he lowered his head, his own eyes tightly shut in grief.

“What…” Fireheart swallowed. “What do we do?”

Gradually, Speckletail’s eyes opened. Whitecloud lifted his head and the two looked at each other, silently conversing. Speckletail gave one small nod, unhappy.

“We need to have a meeting with the whole Clan,” she said to Fireheart. “It’s time.”

Fireheart had the sudden urge to huddle on the ground like a kit, but all he said was a muted, “Okay.”

“Speckletail!”

Every eye now turned to the camp entrance, where Dustpelt had just burst through, followed by Willowpelt and both of their apprentices. Thornpaw’s fur stuck out in every direction, especially his neck-fur, and Brackenpaw looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Back to business—Speckletail approached them, brisk again. “What’s going on?”

“The dogs!” Brackenpaw shouted, trembling. “They’re back!”

A wave of hisses and gasps spread out through the clearing, the apprentice the centerpoint. Willowpelt rested a paw on Brackenpaw’s shoulders, saying something quiet and soothing. Brackenpaw stepped a little closer to her, but he didn’t look any less frightened.

“We’ll talk later,” Whitecloud whispered to Fireheart as they both followed Speckletail. Louder, he said to Dustpelt, “What did you find?”

Dustpelt, despite the fur along his back sticking up, spoke calmly. “There was blood in the snow, and tracks heading north, towards Snakerocks. They were definitely dog-tracks; far too big to be a cat’s or a fox’s and too narrow to be a badger’s. We think they killed a rabbit.”

“There was brown fur everywhere,” Willowpelt added. “And no trace of a cat. The snow’s still soaking up scents, but I could get something rabbit-like.”

ThunderClan looked at each other worriedly and many words having to do with death and danger rippled through camp. Speckletail took a moment before trotting for the meeting stump and leaping onto it. The Clan immediately crowded around it, apprentices, warriors, and elders alike.

“We should play on the side of caution and assume the dogs aren’t going to leave just yet,” she said to the gathered cats. “They’re most likely in the burnt part of the forest, but we don’t know how long they’ll be there.”

“Then what do we do?” someone called—Thornpaw, by the sound of it.

Speckletail hesitated for just a heartbeat before saying calmly, “This is a discussion I think all of us should be part of. Every time anyone goes out, they’re at risk of being hurt or killed. If there’s a solution, or an idea of a solution, to be found, then please feel free to say something.”

Dustpelt spoke up now. “Before the fire, patrols needed to have four cats to them. I think we should return to that system.”

“And there needed to be one warrior for every apprentice,” Fireheart added, recalling. “Maybe apprentices should stay in the southern part of the territory for training?”

Murmurs of agreement. Speckletail nodded. “That sounds wise.”

“We still have to be careful,” Mousefur said, head tilted in thought. “The dogs will figure out there’s nothing to eat in the north, and the snakes probably won’t wake up and bite any of them to solve our problem for us.”

“We might get lucky,” Swifttail said hopefully. “Dogs aren’t the most graceful animals out there. They could disturb the rocks and an adder could bite them in reflex.”

Whitecloud hummed. “That would be nice. It wouldn’t do to rely on that chance of an accident, though. We ought to expect their coming around at any part of the territory.”

Voices echoed between cats, everyone offering their thoughts and ideas. Fireheart glanced around camp, grimly pleased to see young and old alike being listened to. He caught sight of Ashpaw and Brightpaw with serious faces as they whispered to each other. Halftail and Teaselfoot exchanged ideas about leading the dogs away. Goldenflower had a face that made the fate of the dogs very clear if they came near her kits.

When Fireheart’s eyes landed on Cloudpaw, he paused. His nephew’s face was unreadable, but in the way that it was very clear he was thinking something he was never going to say out loud. Something in his blue eyes was distant and still. He didn’t even appear to notice Fireheart looking at him.

“Uh…” A voice piped up. “If I can, I’d like to volunteer as a patrol guard.”

Conversation faded a little and Speckletail regarded the cat below her in surprise—Greystripe, Fireheart realized, him having just stood up.

“What do you mean?” the deputy asked.

“Well, I mean…” Greystripe cleared his throat self-consciously. “I’m the biggest warrior we have right now. I’m not fast, but I’m definitely strong, and I’ve got thick fur that can protect me in an emergency. So, like, if a patrol needs to go out near where we scent or see dogs, at any point, I could be there as extra muscle.”

Dustpelt’s tail tapped the ground, stressful. “Those tracks were huge, Greystripe. I don’t think even you could handle multiple dogs if they attack a patrol.”

“Then I’ll block them,” Greystripe said with more determination. “And if nothing else, I can give the rest of the patrol time to escape while scratching out an eye or two.”

Ravenwing looked at him in horror. “You can’t be implying—”

“I’m being pretty frank about it, actually.” Greystripe’s whiskers twitched. “Look, I don’t expect to die, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. And it’s not like I have an apprentice I need to look out for. Or… well, any family, either.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Fireheart said, walking up to see his friend properly. “You’re important, too.”

There was a small pause, Greystripe not meeting either of his friends’ gazes. He looked back up at Speckletail and said finally, “If a patrol needs to go near the dogs, put me on it.”

Fireheart clenched his teeth in anxiety.

Speckletail nodded slowly. “I appreciate your volunteering, Greystripe. But don’t throw yourself at the dogs the first chance you get.”

Greystripe chuffed. “I won’t.”

The air around him did not lighten up. Fireheart could see the concern on everyone’s faces. Even if they had calmed down about his kits months ago, it was still relieving to not catch any resentment or scorn in their eyes.

“We have that, then.” Speckletail straightened up. “As for you two, Dustpelt and Fireheart, you’re right. We’ll return to our previous rules: any patrols will have at least four cats with them, and one extra for every apprentice. Apprentices are to stay in camp unless accompanied by an adult, and training will take place closer to home—we’re not touching the training hollow until we go four days without scenting the dogs anywhere on our territory.” Her eyes roamed over the crowd. “And wherever we scent these dogs, we won’t go near. The northern part of the forest is theirs for now. When we can be sure it’s not lethally dangerous, we’ll send a scout to scent out the dogs and locate their base. Until I make that decision, do not cross over into the burned part of the forest.”

Agreement and obedience responded to her. The Clan as a whole relaxed their fur and their eyes brightened again.

“Is there anything else anyone wants to say?” Speckletail asked, and waited in silence. “No? Then we’ll be done here for now. If anyone wants to talk to me, I’ll be in camp tonight.”

With that, she jumped down off the stump. The crowd divided and dispersed, cats gathering in pairs or trios to discuss matters. Fireheart waited until everyone was busy talking to trot up to Speckletail, who had returned to sit with Whitecloud.

Evidently, they had expected him returning, because they both faced him as he came up, both of their expressions resigned and glum.

“What about Bluestar?” Fireheart whispered. “Shouldn’t we talk about that?”

Speckletail took in a breath and looked to Whitecloud, who shook his head slightly. To Fireheart, she replied, “The dogs are the main issue tonight. When we’re in a safer position, that will be the time to talk about retiring Bluestar.”

Fireheart’s lungs clenched and chilled. “Do we have to retire her? I know she’s not okay, but… but you said you wanted her to die as a leader.”

“I do,” Speckletail said softly. “We all do. But she’s still in a position of power where her word could decide the fate of the Clan.”

“No one’s even listening to her anymore!” Fireheart hissed, barely keeping his voice down. “They don’t talk to her, or ask her what to do, nothing! You’re just missing -star at the end of your name at this point!”

“Fireheart,” Whitecloud said, a kind warning.

He didn’t heed it. “I know we need to talk to the whole Clan about her, but can’t we just wait to let her… to let her move on to StarClan? Before you take the position?”

Speckletail’s eyes were calm, but narrowed. “We will do what the Clan decides is best. If that involves her being Bluedusk again, that will be that.”

Fireheart felt his face fall. He looked down at the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Whitecloud said quietly. “I don’t like it either.”

Fireheart said nothing. The chatter of camp swallowed his silence.

[paintedscales]

FFXIV Write 2024 :: Day One

Prompt: Steer Characters: Nomin tal Kheeriin, Arik Dotharl (Noykin) Word Count: 678

Master List

“It all comes pretty naturally, huh?” Nomin commented as she watched Arik bring Wild Sun to a trot around the corral. They had been with the Noykin for a fortnight; Arik to learn more about his former self as well as to properly get a feel for riding and taking care of horses, and Nomin simply to support and catch up with him after the years they had been apart. It had been a refreshing reprieve for her so soon after her time with the Jhungid.

“It…really feels like it,” Arik replied, a smile upon his lips as he rode past Nomin. He glanced at her, the elation evident in his eyes. He had every reason to feel triumphant and proud of himself. The Noykin claimed Wild Sun was a challenge for all in their tribe, but Arik had come in and managed to not only prove he could match the horse's spirit, but gentle it as well.

Horse stood just a couple yalms away, grazing outside the corral. He had stuck close to Nomin, clearly bonded to her. Hopping off the bottom rung of the corral, Nomin went over to Horse and patted his neck before tracing her hand along his side. As usual, she patted him twice upon his shoulder before applying a bit of pressure -- a routine to when she wanted to sit astride him. He had no saddle any longer -- Nomin got rid of it to remove the colors of Jhungid from her and Horse. Despite this, though, Horse stopped grazing and leaned down, allowing Nomin to hoist herself and straddle his back.

“Good job,” Nomin softly praised, leaning forward and brushing her fingers along Horse’s neck once more. She then gently tapped a heel into his side while bringing a hand to rest on his neck similar to his reins to steer him toward the corral.

Arik pulled back on his reins, bringing Wild Sun to a halt when he saw Nomin approaching. Glancing to her steed and then back to her, he asked: “Did you want to ride together for a bit? I think Wild Sun will like the open Steppe over this small corral.”

“I’ve no saddle -- not that I distrust Horse nor my own riding capabilities,” Nomin considered. “But if we keep them at a walk, I think I’d like that.”

“We can do that.” Arik then clicked his tongue and brought his reins over, guiding Wild Sun toward the gate of the pen. Dismounting momentarily, Arik opened it and brought Wild Sun. Wild Sun’s ears flicked forward, his head bobbing with anticipation -- it was clear he was in a mood to run as he counted, his hoof digging into the ground every now and then. Once Arik got back up into the saddle, Wild Sun pranced a bit in his step, causing Arik to give a slight gasp of surprise before reaffirming himself.

Giggling, Nomin brought a hand down into Horse’s mane, her fingers tangling with his locks before she gently clicked her own tongue and guided him toward the other two.

Once Wild Sun was calmed, Arik looked over toward Nomin, watching as she rode Horse. A small scoff of amusement fell from his lips. “How do you make even bareback riding look so easy?”

“Huh?” Nomin considered the question, bringing her free hand to her chin. She then looked down at Horse. “I don’t…I mean, he was feisty and didn’t listen to me well when we first met…but he was younger then. But since he’s been the only horse I’ve been assigned…I guess we built up that trust over the last three summers.”

“Three summers…” Arik considered. He then smiled. “He seems like a good friend to you. I hope that Wild Sun will see me that way in time.”

“I think he already seems to respect you at least.” Nomin noted the surprise and murmurs of the Noykin when Arik returned with Wild Sun in tow. “I don’t think he would be letting you have such an easy time with him otherwise.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm!”

[brewed-pangolin]

Just a little something that came into my mind....

MDNI 18+: sexual themes, slight mentions of choking

Soap MacTavish x f!Reader x Alex Mason

Grocery shopping with Johnny is such a hassle.

First of all, it seems like every time he comes back from deployment, the local mart decides to renovate and rearrange everything from one end of the store to the other.

You've already become accustomed to the topography. But Johnny? No. And he must traverse up and down every aisle until he gets his bearings or he'll go mad.

-

"I swear, bonnie. Why'd they 'ave ta put the toiletries next ta th'canned vegetables. Makes no bloody sense."

You roll your eyes and continue on. Cart in tow as he meanders around the corner to take a gander in the baking aisle.

"Don't even think about it, MacTavish. It ain't happening."

"Ah c'mon," his Scottish baritone echoed over the shelves as you made your way to the produce section. "Y'know I got a sweet spot for them brownies a'yers."

"No. Now c'mon. We got veggies to pick out."

"Wha'? Ya gettin' sick a me pickle already, lass?"

You had to refrain from slapping him in the shoulder as he made his way around the shelves behind you. Whatever incredulous insult you had brimming on your tongue disappeared as you took in your surroundings and gave him a glare that only fueled him further along.

"John MacTavish, I swear..."

"Swear on me pickle."

"Go get the sweet potatoes, John. Before I knock you into next Tuesday," you spat back with a quivering curl to your lips. Pointing to the potatoes as you turned your attention to the greens in hopes of restraining the laugh bubbling within your chest.

The next chore entailed the two of you arguing over what cooking oil was best used for your expert culinary skills.

"I'm tellin' ya, hen. Olive oil is tha way ta go."

"Agreed. But I've been using avocado oil for a while, and I'm really enjoying it."

"Aye. But tha olive oil makes it taste better."

You glared at him with a furrowed brow. Biting back yet another sparky comment as a mother and child pranced beside you.

"Choose your next words wisely, Mr. MacTavish. Or it'll be your ass I'm sending into the composter."

The crystalline blue of his eyes was all the signaling you needed that he had an alterior motive to his bantering. And as much as you enjoyed his company, you knew he'd end up breaking away to indulge himself in the newest automotive products.

"Go. I'll send a smoke flare when I'm done."

"Yer th'best, bonnie."

With a quick peck on your cheek, he was gone. Trotting down the back aisle like a conquering hero as you continued on with the finer details of convenient store enrichment.

Twenty minutes later, you were making your down the main corridor when you heard a distinctive voice ring against the shell of your ear. One that did not belong to your beloved Scot. Yet just as familiar as you made turned the corner to the tire section.

"Alex Mason. Great. Now, I'll never be able to get you two dumbasses outta here."

He answered back with a coitish smile. Golden orbs glistening as he took you in and igniting a flame in your belly you hadn't felt since you last saw him.

"Hiya, love. Lookin' beautiful as always I see."

The smoothness of his voice was warm, fluid like honey running down your back as you recalled how sweetly he muttered the most deranged depravity against the back your neck.

The image of you in the mirror with Mason's hand wrapped so perfectly around your neck as he bent you over and pistoned his cock into your needy cunt. The only sounds keeping you in the moment were your bellowing moans, mixed in so seamlessly with Soap's vigorous grunts as he worked himself off in the corner like a voyeuristic madman.

"Ya good, bonnie?"

Soap's voice pulled you out of your blissed out memory like a fish on a hook. Stunned as the fluorescent light of the store came washing over you, blinking rapidly to bring yourself back to reality within the department store.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." You nodded. More for your own sake than there's as you took a gander at the items resting in your cart. Taking a mental note of the newest additions as Soap methodically stalked his way around you.

It was the distinct turquoise packaging and unique royal blue font that caught your eye first. The cursive 'glide' etched across the midsection quickly had your pulse racing as a familiar throb began to echo deep within your core.

"Was jus' talkin bout havin' an encore, bonnie. Me bein' back from deployment an' all," Soap breathed soflty against the edge of your neck. His brogue thick, unbridled as he carefully pressed himself against your back. "But this time, it'd be my hand round tha' pretty little throat a'yers."

You could feel he was holding back. Cautious of his surroundings yet unable to contain his overwhelming need, pressing his arousal into your backside as your eyes flew to Mason for any glimpse of guidance.

His golden eyes gave you nothing in return. Only a sinful promise swirled behind the darkness of his irises you were hastily brought to the checkout aisle. Both men cemented to each hip as your items scanned aimlessly over the register's worn screen.

Ignoring her questioning gaze as she hid the anal lube in a double bag with the elongated kielbasa.

"Have a good evening, ma'am." She murmured with a curt smile, giving both men a quick glance before effortlessly turning her attention to the next customer.

And you had every intention to make good on her remark, having a less than quiet night while being simultaneously filled and bent over between both men.

Pockets Full of Stones Masterlist

[mentally-a-slut]

Luck Ain't Got Nothin' To Do With It Teaser

ALRIGHT Y'ALL HERE'S A LITTLE TEASER FROM MY POLY CHAURTHUR FIC!!

i just put down a random title, i'm not sure it'll stay the same but it'll do for now! this is from later in the fic, about 20k words in i think, but i thought it was a cute interaction to show!

notes: Josie is the main character and my OC in this fic, her love interests are both Arthur and Charles and she is Sean's older sister. she's irish ofc, and she is pretty stereotyped simply because Sean is too and they're siblings. also part of her character is that she leans into the whole "luck of the irish" thing, so it's not meant to be ignorant in the way she is described. no offense is intended by the characterization of Josie or Sean for that matter, and if anyone has a valid issue with it, lmk.

anyway, enjoy, and let me know if you want me to start posting the full fic!

Josie was up before anyone else the following morning, which would have been impressive except for the fact that pretty much everyone was hungover.

She had refused to drink last night, knowing that she was set to depart the next day. She had traveled with a hangover before and had no intention of doing it again anytime soon. It was a whole hour before someone else stirred. Kieran stumbled groggily through the brush, emerging from his haven on the outskirts.

Josie greeted him with a small smile, tipping her hat as she sipped her coffee. He spoke in a whisper as he approached her, eyes narrowing under the morning light. “Morning, Miss Josie.”

Josie chuckled softly at his formality, taking off her hat and placing it firmly on his head to shield the sun. His cheeks flushed red at her actions, and she sent him a friendly smirk. “Just Josie, Kieran. And you can borrow my hat until your hangover dies down. I know how bad the sun feels the morning after a fun night.”

He fiddled with the hat on his head, stuttering through a reply. “Thank you, Josie. I appreciate it.”

She nodded, and they fell into a mutual silence as they stood idle by the fire.

Hosea was not long after Kieran, looking far more chipper than one should after the celebration of the previous night. He didn’t approach the pair, opting to send a silent wave in their direction and make his way to the lake. Josie caught the tail end of a fishing rod in his wake, and she smiled when she realized he was likely taking advantage of the quiet morning to do some fishing.

Within the next couple hours, the others emerged with dramatic groans and complaints, followed by a poorly received yell from Miss Grimshaw telling everyone to smarten up. Dutch laughed good-naturedly and waved the matriarch off, telling everyone to take the day easy to recover. Susan didn’t look very happy about the sentiment but followed his orders anyway.

Kieran trotted off to tend to the horses as the camp livened up, his discomfort around the others clear. Seraphina took the boy’s spot next to her, plopping her butt down on her boot. Josie couldn’t stay mad at the husky, failing to scold her for trapping her. Josie enjoyed the quiet time with her pup until Jack made his appearance, frantically whipping his head around looking for something. The something turned out to be the very dog next to her, and he let out an excited squeal as Seraphina pranced over to him, freeing Josie’s boot from the confines of her butt.

She vaguely heard John’s voice grumbling towards his son to quiet down, the little boy’s exclamation likely causing discomfort for most everyone in camp. Josie snorted, finally moving from her idle position by the fire for the first time in hours.

Almost everyone was accounted for, grumbling messes stumbling out of their tents by noon, still clad in nightclothes with no intention to change.

After a few scans of camp, Josie furrowed her eyebrows and looked around for Charles. Arthur was no where to be seen, which was unlike the man. He was usually one of the first awake. Charles was already looking her way when she met his gaze, and Josie tried not to blush. She made her way over to him, holding his stare as she spoke. “Where’s Arthur?”

Charles huffed out a laugh, wincing slightly as the noise sent a slight twinge through his head. It seemed he wasn’t immune to the effects of alcohol after all. “No one told you? Arthur’s an awful drunk. He’s probably holed up in his tent, trying to sleep it off. We’ll be lucky if we see him all day.”

Josie frowned at this, which caught the man’s attention. “Why? Everything okay?”

She flashed a smile at him, heart fluttering at the concern he displayed for her. “Yeah, I was just hoping to say goodbye to him before I left.”

His eyes flickered with an emotion close to panic, but he masked it quickly with his usual indifference. “You’re leaving?”

Josie studied his expression for any sign of discontent at her departure, sighing lightly when she found none. “Yeah, was gonna take my leave today. I did what I came for, don’t wanna overstay my welcome.”

He hummed, processing her words. He spoke again, shifting the conversation in a strangely sudden way. “Hey, how about we get Arthur up? That way you can say goodbye.”

Josie knitted her brows. “I don’t want to upset him or anything…”

Charles waved her off, moving to go towards Arthur’s tent without giving her a chance to protest. “He’ll be fine, c’mon.”

She stammered in confusion for a moment before speed walking to catch up with him, pausing at the entrance to the tent. Charles took the lead, knocking on the wooden supports of the canvas. The answering groan was pained, followed by a string of curses that would make Susan smack him upside the head. Charles stifled a grin before going in, motioning Josie to follow.

She hesitated a moment before entering, trying not to blush at the implications of entering a tent with Charles.

“Wake up, Arthur, Josie wants to say goodbye.”

Charles did Arthur the favor of keeping his voice down, but the disheveled man still cursed him out. “Get the hell out of my- what do you mean say goodbye?”

Arthur suddenly sat up, groaning and cradling his head when the movement sent a jolt of pain through his brain. He shook his head and continued to get up, bleary eyes struggling to focus on the awkward redhead before him. “Well, I’m taking my leave later today. I did what I came for and all, so no reason for me to stay.”

Arthur sent as much of a glare towards Charles as he could manage, grunting when he tried to stand up and stumbled. Charles steadied him with a smug smile on his face as Arthur continued cursing him out while leaning on him for support. Arthur stammered through his words, gaze flickering nervously as he tried to gather his thoughts. “Uh, your arm! You, you can’t just leave with an injury like that, you gotta stay until it’s all healed up.”

Josie stifled a chuckle at the tough cowboy’s slurred words, cocking her head at him. “I’m fine. It’s all patched up now, I don’t need to be babysat.”

Arthur attempted another sentence, looking pointedly at Charles when he stumbled on his words too much to get them out. Charles shifted and abruptly jumped in, a slight nervousness in his tone that she hadn’t heard before. “Uh, Arthur’s right! Just, uh, just to be safe, you should stay a little while longer, you know, infection and… stuff…”

Arthur nodded frantically in agreement before immediately wincing at the discomfort the quick movement caused. Josie glanced between the two men, smiling slightly at the sight of Arthur leaning on Charles. She knew they were being odd, and she had the feeling they were keeping something from her. Instead of stressing herself out over it, she decided to agree with them, just to ease their worries.

“Right. I suppose a couple more days won’t hurt. Uh, if that’s all then, I’ll just be… going now…”

Josie slowly backed out of the tent, suspicious gaze staying locked on the pair until she was out of sight.

The second the tent flaps fell shut, Arthur slumped down onto his cot. Charles kept an arm around his waist as he did so, steadying him on the way down and only letting go when he was sure he wouldn’t fall off. His eyes fell tightly shut, almost like he was trying to block out the throbbing pain the hangover was torturously causing. Charles sighed and looked down at him, a hand going up to rub his forehead. “Smooth, Arthur.”

Arthur made a sound of protest, as much of one as he could, anyway, lightly nudging his foot against Charles’s leg. “You weren’t any better.”

[celeluwhenfics]

A little horse scene out of my pHORSEuasion drafts

We have been talking about dressage and Haute École today, and I wanted to show a little scene I have in my drafts. It will appear in a flashback scene in much later chapters of pHORSEuasion, probably much reworked, but as it works well as a standalone vignette, here it is for your early viewing!

The year is 3010, the humans are between 15 and 19, and the horses are between 3 and 8.

The morning was bright and balmy, and Rowena had set out early to exert her young Kellynch before the heat would become unbearable. She led her to a pleasant round of grass in a clearing out of sight from the house, and spoke to her gently, pushing her hips or shoulders with a willow stick, then pulling her, calling her, and in turn rousing and calming her with her voice and precise gestures.

But Wylfric had allowed a rare day of recess to his disciples, and soon Éomer and Gárulf appeared riding abreast on their stallions, passing down the path on their way to the river. Rowena blushed and pretended not having seen them, but Kellynch turned to them, perked up, and refused to pay any more attention to her mistress.

‘Good morning Wena!’ called Éomer.

‘How is Kel doing?’ asked Gárulf.

‘She’s good, thank you. How are your boys?’

‘Wonderful! Don’t you want to join us to the river?’ said Gárulf.

'Oh, wait, let me show you what we've been working on!' cried Éomer.

With a gentle nudge of his heels, he lifted Fýrfot into a bouncy trot. When he reached the bend in the path, he turned him on his hips and started a calm, composed canter. After a few strides, he asked for a lead change, then another, then another. Fýrfot, his ears forwards, neck proud, tail flowing, linked the flying changes with ease and elegance. Éomer grinned as they passed prancing, the peculiarity of the allure teetering between ridicule and magnificence. Rowena gaped and leaned onto her grazing mare's shoulder.

Meanwhile, Gárulf sat back, and with precise aids roused Hasufel into a fairly good piaffe. He held him trotting in place, moving him further and further back onto his hind, until his front legs lifted off the ground and he balanced in a tentative levade.

Rowena, trying to keep herself from turning back to Éomer, echoed some of the encouragements she had heard her father give in lessons.

'Ooooh that's progress, he's so collected now! What a good boy, Hasufel! Can I give him a treat?'

Gárulf flustered and led Hasufel to Rowena as she took a few dice of apple from her reticule. Éomer, who had been going back and forth in passades on the path, pulled closer and started a pirouette. Rowena, aware that he was hoping for her to praise the manoeuvre, but hesitant to let him see her genuine admiration, bashfully smiled down at Hasufel's black muzzle and reached beyond the reins to scratch his neck.

Too busy ignoring Éomer through diligent caresses in Hasufel’s mane, Rowena realized too late how Gárulf was squirming in the saddle with pride and delight. She stepped back in disarray and scrambled to find an excuse to take both young men’s attention off her, and especially to avoid feeding Gárulf’s hopes.

A small bird was singing. Glad for the opening, she whipped her head around to squint at the crown of a tree nearby.

'Shhh! Boys! Quiet!'

Éomer, a little vexed, broke his pirouette.

'What?'

'Shhhh!'

All was silent for a moment.

'Ooooooh, I think… I think…'

She gestured to them to keep still. The bird tweeted again and flew into view, his bright yellow plumage striking against the blue sky. Rowena vibrated with excitement.

'It's a prothonotary warbler!' she hissed.

'A what?' said Éomer as Fýrfot pawed the ground.

'A prothonotary warbler. It's the species. It's rare!'

'Aaah, yes, protronatony warbler.' said Éomer. 'I remember well when I heard that word the first time.'

'Do you?' said Gárulf, impressed. 'When was that?'

'About ten seconds ago.'

The rolling of quick hooves was heard from up on the path, and Rowena's warbler flew. Fýrfot got himself out of the way just in time to avoid being taken down by Windfola flying like an arrow, spurred by Éowyn’s shrill war-cry. Folcred, kicking Adali, yelled and coughed in the cloud of dust raised by Windfola's hooves. He was desperately distanced.

'Éowyn, stop! Slow down!'

'The last one at the ford is a lazy donkey!' cried Éowyn as she fast disappeared beyond the trees down the path.

Éomer rose in his stirrups, hesitant between the thrill of attempting a courbette to eclipse Gárulf’s success, or the fun of at least taking part in the race, if he couldn't beat his sister. At last, he decided that fighting for praise would be fruitless for the time being. With a grunt of spite he turned Fýrfot around and sent him off at a furious gallop. Gárulf also pushed Hasufel on the path and gave him the reins, but he had not made a few strides before he looked back to Rowena and halted.

'Do you need a hand to get on?' he asked, panting, but perhaps not from the short run. His eyes were unmistakably hopeful.

'I can do bareback, but not bridleless! And Kellynch is still much too green for that kind of play.'

'Hm, you're right to be prudent, sorry. Do… do you mind if I walk you home?'

'Oh, Gárulf, you’re too kind, but do join the others. I would rather continue what we were doing, without stallions around.'

'Of course, yes. Well, goodbye then!'

He started again on a canter, as Éowyn's victory cry erupted from far down at the river. Rowena waved her mare back at a trot on the lunge circle. She smiled. Fýrfot's astonishing gaits were still bouncing on her mind.

@from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras although you've seen it already, @torchwood-99 @emmanuellececchi @konartiste @dilettantefeminist @the-dolphin-is-dead

[breannasfluff]

Go Fetch!

“Wolfie! Go fetch the stick!”

Twilight watched Wind throw a stick with a supremely unimpressed look on his face. He wasn’t a dog, much as he might pass out cuddles as needed.

Wind hops up and down, too full of energy. “Go get it! Get it!”

“He’s not going to play fetch,” Warriors calls.

Turning with a pout, Wind looks for another stick. “You don’t know that!”

“Remember what happened the last time you treated him like a dog?”

Twilight settles his head on his paws and watches Wind grumble until Sky distracts him with some task.

It’s late afternoon and they are sprawled in a dell, the area cleared of monsters. Time and Legend are fishing at the nearby stream winding into the woods. Twilight was tempted to join them, but the lure of being a wolf to relax was too much to resist.

Four leans against his side with his eyes shut and face up to the sun. It’s peaceful; the heroes entertaining themselves in quiet ways.

An explosion shatters the silence and Twilight jumps to his feet. Four hits the ground with a yelp as he looks around. Before the worry can grow too strong, there’s a descending three note whistle signifying an all clear.

A crash from the nearby forest is followed by Wild emerging from the trees. He’s covered in leaves and dirt, dragging a large…branch? No, closer to a small tree.

The heroes watch in trepidation as he lugs it over to Sky. It hits the ground with a thud as he drops it to sign. ‘Got you some wood to carve.’

Sky’s face pales in the face of his dubious gift. “Wow, Wild, that was—thoughtful. Are you okay? We heard an explosion.”

He shrugs. ‘Bombs to get the wood.’

“Bombs—“ Sky shakes his head. “I don’t want to know. Thank you for the wood.”

‘I’ve got an axe, I can cut it up!’ Wild’s already punching at his slate and a large ax materializes. He hefts it over his head and brings it down with a crash.

Yelping, Sky skitters away from the flying wood chips. Wild swung it so hard it is half embedded into the ground. All raw power, no finesse. Another crash, and the log is split again.

“I don’t need it chopped anymore!” Sky is half hidden behind Warriors across the clearing.

Wild’s eyes hold a manic energy that likely points to going stir crazy. He’s more active than the rest of them, but his Hyrule is a lot bigger than the ones they’ve visited so far.

He likes exploring as much as Hyrule and has the stamina and energy to match it. Used to traveling alone and quickly, he chafes at the Chain’s slow speed most days. Stuck here with nothing to do, relaxing doesn’t equal winding down.

No one else in the group is volunteering as a victim distraction—even Wind. With a groan, Twilight hauls himself to his paws.

The log is chopped into small chunks; either for carving or the fire at this point. Wild puts away the axe, but likely only because Sky is still hiding.

Safe from flying metal, Twilight circles the logs until he finds a suitable branch chopped off. With a mental eye roll at the teasing to come, he picks it up and trots to Wild.

“Hey no fair! Why does Wolfie want to play fetch with you?” Wind is disgusted at the double standard, but he’s not liable to blow things up when he’s bored. Probably.

Wild focuses on Twilight with laser attention; churning energy apparent in every twitching muscle. He needed to move and Twilight can provide the distraction.

He prances closer, picking up his paws and tilting his head with the stick invitingly. Wild reaches out to grab it; gentle in case he decides to hold onto it.

Twilight drops it into his hand and barks, moving a few feet away and looking back.

With a grin, Wild chucks the stick and Twilight chases after it. He’s got a good range. Stick in mouth, Twilight doesn’t return, just paces across the grass and wags his head at Wild. Come play, he invites with body language.

Something tight in Wild’s shoulders loosens and he’s running for Twilight. He digs in his paws, tail high, and speeds off with his prize. Zigging and zagging, Wild stays only a few steps behind.

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