#pony skin rug
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Kitchen in Los Angeles
Mid-sized transitional l-shaped medium tone wood floor and brown floor eat-in kitchen photo with a single-bowl sink, gray cabinets, gray backsplash, stone tile backsplash, stainless steel appliances, no island, shaker cabinets and solid surface countertops
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Contemporary Family Room Toronto
Family room idea: small, modern, enclosed, medium-tone wood floor with a music area and beige walls but no fireplace.
#vintage movie poster#geometric pony skin rug#music room#crate and barrel bookcases#geometric rug#patterned pony skin
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Pomefiore Dorm Headcanons:
-Lights out at 9pm. Period.
-Like Diasomnia, which is also an on old castle, Pomefiore has many hidden nooks and shortcuts and passageways, all of which Rook discovered and committed to memory the first day he transferred. It’s also how he gets around the place so quickly and pops up most unexpectedly, still giving even older students a scare.
-Students quickly learn not to sneak junk food and other forbidden snacks and stuff into their rooms because Vil always. Finds. Out. (It’s Rook—nothing ever gets past him)
-As Epel demonstrated, a common punishment in the dorm is cleaning: washing and wiping all the windows by hand, dusting the vases, sweeping the rugs and mopping the hallways and making sure everything is absolutely spotless. Without magic (it’s to build character ofc).
-The beautiful gardens and apple orchards outside are perfect for afternoon tea. Vil has, on more than one occasion, hosted a photoshoot in the gardens.
-Said apples in the orchards are also cursed to make whoever eats them violently ill. As a result the garden remains picturesque and pretty.
-Peacocks roam freely outside. They are surprisingly aggressive to outsiders.
-Entire dorm smells like fancy flowers and floral perfume.
-While not an official club on campus, but some Pomefiore students have made their own fashion design club. They hold fashion shows, showcasing their own creations every so often and Vil always attends.
-Has a potions lab in the basement where the housewarden duel is held.
-Mandatory ballroom dancing lessons! Pomefiore has three ballrooms in total.
-There’s a big white grand piano in the lounge that no one is allowed to play.
-Decently insulated, not too hot or cold, since both are bad for your skin.
-Lot and lots of stairs! Also easy to get lost in.
-Vil (and Rook) had to teach all the first years how to put their dorm uniform on properly.
- Lots of movie nights in the lounge. If one of Vil’s movies are being played, he expects full critique (and praise) afterwards.
-Vil is more accommodating towards beastman students with wings, tails, fur, and or ears that need more specialized care or attention.
-Kitchen is stocked only with healthy snacks and artesian bottled water.
——————
Scarabia Dorm Headcanons:
-So. Many. Parties. Parties to kick off the start of the school year, parties at the end of the week, parties to celebrate end of the semester, parties for the sake of partying.
-Second to Octavinelle, the dorm has lots of musically inclined students. One can hear lots of musical instruments being played day and night, such as the sitar, flute, oud, tamborine, or drum.
-Merfolk students like to cool off in the oasis or the courtyard fountain. This environment isn’t exactly the best for them… good thing there aren’t alot of them in Scarabia in the first place.
-Sand everywhere!!!!!! Even with magic, sand still finds a way to slip in. I don't like sand. It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.
-Occasionally there are powerful sandstorms outside.
-Even rarer is when it rains (without use of Kalim’s UM)—when it does, everyone dashes outside to dance and sing in the rain with joy (everyone minus Jamil)
-Dorm is home to Kalim’s menagerie of exotic wild animals allowed to roam freely: tigers, monkeys, camels, parrots, etc…
-They’re all tame (mostly), but you can still occasionally see Jamil and a student or two wrangling a monkey or chasing after a runaway pony.
-It’s nearly bug free for the most part (thanks Jamil!) but you can still find the lone scorpion or snake hiding in the corners.
-First thing new students are taught is to always always always double check and empty your shoes and clothes first before putting them on.
-Entire dorm smells of incense and spices and exotic perfumes. It’s very heavy on the senses.
-Very dry and hot as one would expect! Its gets chillier at night, but not by much.
-Students help out Jamil with the cooking. It’s a communal event, and recipes and stories are often swapped.
-Before Kalim, Scarabia was a pretty studious and academic dorm. Now they have a reputation as the party animals of NRC and curious students from other dorms like to sneak into their many parties or banquets. Not like Kalim minds: the more, the merrier!
-DONT TOUCH JAMIL’s SPICES!
#twst oc#twisted wonderland#twst#twst wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#twst headcanons#twisted wonderland headcanons#pomefiore#scarabia#my hcs#my headcanons
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regarding your rant on frances design: TELL ME ABOUT IT. tbh i think all the designs peaked with beautiful world, and everything after that was just...discount budget versions of whoever theyre supposed to be. the beautiful world designs are GORGEOUS on their own, but compared to world stars? theres no contest. some designs i do like, like england looks nice, if not a little too polished, and portugal is really cute, but everyone else just got twinkified and butchered. and i love a twink! i do! but they look like they could be swapped out with my little pony designs and it wouldnt make a difference. france to me will always be a blonde with a ponytail, a little unkempt, with chest hair and stubble and flamboyantly manly with a touch of tragedy. thats france to me. not whatever waif they cooked up in the more recent series
// ok ok i can't tell if u mean like ''oOOOh tell me about it' as a phrase or u actually are inviting me to tell you about it but i'm going to take it as permission to ramble <3 but im putting it under the cut so i dont spam
okok so UR SO RIGHT i think the new designs are so OFF... like it kinda lost the plot. the characters are all weirdly polished?
ok im just gonna run down the characters i have a lot of thoughts about CUZ my god
ENGLAND!!! its gotta be beautiful world
cuz the early seasons england gets his crankiness on point but this design fits just how cranky and posh(?) he is, like he dresses like an old man and wears outdated 'punk' fashion, he drinks tea like an old lady.. it fits hes cute and expressive.
this england isLOSING hair where did his EYEBROWS GO!!!! thats HIS WHOLE FUCKING CHARACTER but also i really dislike the change from him going from a dirty blond to a bleach blond... doesnt work...
i want my man to look like he has a nicotine addiction, rugged and smug as shit. i think they leaned too hard on the 'tsundere' trope for him cuz hes not puffy cheeks with pouty lips hes an old man with a laundry list of war crimes
-
ROMANO
ok. this one is a little hard cuz romano is good in ever season but he has these little minor changes that drive me CRAZY but my favorite will always be the earlier seasons
this ver of romano was a NASTY bitch he just showed up to be an asshole and i love it so much , i love his hair being dark brown with brown eyes ok , at the minimum his design fit his voice...
for beautiful world i think hes cute but i really don't ? like his eyes being green? like i dont know it just never felt right to me:( i like him having brown eyes
and later his design leans into the prev but when u look at him u don't see that one guy who REALLY doesn't wanna be here hes . too soft?
and the newer romano does have the bad attitude but now he's suffering from the 'progressively becoming a ginger' syndrome that a lot of hws characters have now
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RUSSIA
my pick for him is all over the place bc i think his new design is SO FUCKING CUTE like i wanna bite him and crocodile death roll him but i think he is SUFFERING from cuteness.... hes so . soft?
earlier seasons of russia showed up just to say some morbid shit and be brutal as fuck but he could also lean into being cute, thats his whole gimmick, cute but scary. his current design is cute with no threat.
i think beautiful world had that balance between cute and scary, he was cute and say mean shit like before and was ready to throw down any time america showed up, thats his whole deal. and you know at the bare minimum he's supposed to be fucking BIG and world stars makes him look like a fucking twink
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SPAIN
beautiful world was WORKING to make spain look good, he was ugly . he was boring. and then he walked in with a new tan and a warm hair color and the cutest smile (tho its hard to find pics of spain in these seasons cuz hes younger in a lot of them) and then it's just
what the hell happened here. i feel like im going insane but did his skin tone get ashy? like it looks more grey. and i know saying spain is 'tan' is generous but what the fuck happened. why did all his colors dull, why is his hair so . boring. where did the body mass go, where did the attitude go... world stars spain is very 'head empty' and not in a good way ....
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CHINA
one of the most overlooked characters but i love him
i think my favorite ver of him is still his original cuz i preferred him with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes and he's side part... it was so cute... and they swapped it for a middle part .... </3
like he was so cute ;; plus i preferred him as this kinda irritable older know it all character, like he was groaning and huffing and did NOT want to be there. but then he kind of got? infantalized(?) i think they wanted him to be cute but idk if china is considered one of the ancient nations by its own rules, then can we tone down the :333 factor on him a bit
like just comparing but this might be me raise hands at hima for this characterization. what did you do to my boy
like do u see it. am i crazy
-
these bitches
these 4 just suffer from success in their OG and the beautiful world just made them way better (except i miss italy's darker hair </3) and then they just got handed bad animation in world stars
ok thats all i have time for rn BUT YEAH
#THANK YOU FOR TALKING TO ME ABOUT IT#I LOVE WHEN I GET TO RAMBLE ABOUT THEM CUZ I HAVE LIKE 2 HETALIA FRIENDS THAT I CAN TALK TO.... </3#mun talks#ohh tumblr fucked up my formatting ....L
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TROUBLE CONCEIVING LUST
-A/N: I lowkey rushed cos my laptop is dying, so apologises if grammar sucks (and spelling!)
Summary:
You met this guy through mutual friends and he had to be the most... Interesting... Sexy?... Unusual man, ever. Playing a "spin the bottle" game ended drastically. You couldn't help yourself, and neither could he.
TW:
-Smut
Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips
Word count: 5777
NORTH YANKTON — 2002
“Who are these fine babes?”
You looked up from your empty glass of booze. A night out with some friends was almost at it’s end until one of your friends, Amanda, decided to bring along her “friend” who’s name was Michael. He mentioned 2 other guys coming, 2 faces you aren’t familiar with.
Smiling softly, you stared ahead at this middle-aged man who’s hair was blonde and slicked into a pony-tail. He was quite chubby but tall, a big lad. He was the guy who spoke first, his eyes drifting from girl to girl. There was a sense of excitement behind his gaze as Michael, the one you were briefly familiar with, spoke.
“This is Brad,” His hand signalled to the blonde guy you were just looking at before noticing a taller, much slimmer man behind them both, “And this is Trevor.”
You instantly made eye-contact with this stud. A shabby mullet, all wild and untamed. His hair was brown, a dark, chocolate brown (to be exact), and so was this stache. It was a fairly groomed moustache that really brings out his intense eyes. You couldn’t help but inspect this stranger with every detail you could find… That goes from his eyebrow scar to this gauntly, sickly grin he had. It was abnormal and different. You’ve never seen a man so rugged, scary but also striking.
You both held strong eye-contact before he was torn from your gaze and upon the rest of the group.
“How are you, Trevor?” Amanda asked with an informal tone; sounding rather disinterested, almost irritated at this guy called Trevor.
And the moment he revealed his voice, you had opened your mouth with fascination. The rawness and deep, taunting, grainy voice – it was glorious – you’d be able to sit and listen to him talk for years straight. However, a few words in, you’ve came to the conclusion that he was from the North; Canada. He had this Canadian tongue that was quite hard to miss.
“Splendid, Mandy. Don’t you have a nightshift, ay? It is a Friday.” He grinned at her, teasing.
“I took the day off.”
“Oh!” Mocked Trevor, “I thought money was an issue?”
Amanda glared at him. This guy was definitely a menace.
“Trevor leave her alone. Come introduce yourself, you too Brad. We’ve got – “ Michael had named every girl before approaching you, “ – and this is [y/n].”
“How’s it going, [y/n]?” You were surprised that he had asked you a question. His deadly eyes stared back at yours.
“I’m fine.”
“Mm… Nice evening?”
“It’s been nice, yes.” You nodded your head.
“Michael mentioned you before,” He looked at you up and down, “Pleasure to meet you, at last.” He held out his hand and you could proper visualise his rough, veiny skin.
You proceeded to shake his hand, the contact so electrifying that you couldn’t even dare yourself to look into his eyes. It felt forbidden to feel such strong emotions for a man you just met.
“Pleasure to meet you too, Trevor.”
Trevor gave you a wink as everyone began to chat amongst themselves. He had left the conversation with intensions of annoying his buddies who were trying to decide on a “friendly, fun game” to end the night. They all took chairs and sat around the already crowded table. This guy, Bradley, was already smoking up a joint as Trevor eagerly took a hit before pouring himself some whiskey that Amanda didn’t finish. He ignored her protests and just downed it in one, throwing the bottle aside as it rolled off onto the floor.
“Jesus, Trevor! That was mine!” She complained and looked at Michael for support, but he was too busy pouring a pint of beer.
“Chill, old girl. It was just a sip.”
“A fucking sip? You drank it all! That cost me a good few notes!”
“Woah, correct yourself, it costed Michael a good few stacks,” Trevor grinned at her, “Team effort, Mandy. Thank us.”
“Fuck you, Trevor.” You watched as Amanda refused to look in his direction.
“Maybe a few more shifts at the strip joint and you can afford the cheapest here.” He continued to torment her.
Mikey had distracted him before he could bully her too much and they all had an open discussion at the table. You ear-dropped their conversation and heard all sorts of ideas that consists of sexual imagery – most coming from Michael’s buddies – not Mikey himself.
“What’s wrong with sexy truth or dare?” Bradley seemed disappointed when his idea was turned down.
“Dude, it ain’t right. Why not a simple drinking game?”
“God… Amanda, what have you done to M? He’s a boring old prick now.”
“Shut up, Trevor. I’ve saved him from your psychotic ass!” And her backtalks were incredibly entertaining. It left you smiling giddily before Trevor caught your amusement, and he frowned. He didn’t like how you found joy in him being humiliated.
So you dropped your head and pretended to adjust your black dress, hoping to avoid any confrontation from this… Man. Somehow it made your stomach coil, not in a good way. These guys didn’t look as promising as Amanda painted them.
“I vote spin the bottle!” Brad announced.
“And what? Shots?”
“You know damn well, Mikey. How about kisses, blowjobs, handjobs?”
“Shut up, T.”
“Trevor’s right, dude.”
Michael groaned, “Shut up, Brad – Fuckin’ fine… Kisses then, but nothing else… Don’t be creepy, yeah?”
Your friends, including Amanda, seemed content with this game of spine the bottle, but you? Mixed feelings. You only just met these 2 guys and they are already demanding the group to participate in some high-school, drunk college game. You just knew that they had a rough idea to bring someone home, especially that one guy, Trevor.
Speaking of Trevor, he caught your sights again and smirked. You’ve noticed that he’s barely given any of the other girls attention. He didn’t even say hi or smiled at them – yet he seemed extremely curious about you. It felt dangerous.
“So we’ve got three chicks and three studs, yeah? Where’s a bottle we can use?” Brad inquired.
“Jesus, are you blind? Look around you, B. The table is filled with bottles.”
He responded to Trevor, “Shit man, they still have booze in them.” Both of them began looking around the table until they noticed your almost empty bottle. Bradley tilted his head and gave you a sickening grin.
“Are you gonna finish that, darl?”
You noticed Trevor wince at the pet name. He sent a glare to his friend and clenched his jaw.
“I – “ Feeling pressured, you just pushed the drink towards them, “No. You can, uh, have the rest.”
“Mmm… Thanks, babe.”
“Shut the fuck up, Bradley.” Your man of interest muttered before pouring the remainder of alcohol into a random glass.
Michael had rubbed his hands together in addition to the game beginning. He was sat beside Amanda, obviously making it known that they are two peas in a pod. It seems as they didn’t mind playing as an “unconfirmed” relationship, but you knew they wouldn’t take it as far as one kiss.
“Who’s going first?” Your other female friend asked.
It was getting late so the bar was slowly decreasing in population. Soon enough, you were the only table left behind. The jukebox was playing some late 80s rock and roll, a big throwback to the past. You listened to it through the background noise of Brad’s booming voice.
“I’ll go!”
He leaned forward and spun the bottle. Everyone watched with anticipation. You heart began beating. It was slowing and you gulped, thinking it was gonna land in you. Not wanting to kiss this man, you prayed to God. You sat tight and held your breath before it landed on Trevor.
The table began to laugh as Brad scowled with embarrassment.
“You fucking kidding me, bro?” He mumbled.
“Go on then!” Michael laughed, his arm around Mandy’s shoulder.
Trevor, unlike his friend, was smirking. He turned to face Bradley and gave him a mocking kissy face, waiting.
“T, stop it man. This is weird as fuck!”
“The longer you wait bro, the longer I’m gonna smooch the life outta ya.” He teased his buddy.
This only made everyone laugh louder. You chuckled here and there until it all died down and Brad was left with no choice. He squeezed his eyes closed and speedily pecked Trevor’s lips. You saw it barely touched.
“Come on, man. You’re such a pussy.” T would roll his eyes.
“Shut up. Just… Carry on, goddammit!”
You were sat next to Brad, so it was your turn. Everyone looked over and gave you words of encouragement. You found the confidence to lean over the table and spin the bottle. You studied how fast it spun. Your heart was beating rapidly, you could feel your pulse breaking. It was nerve-wracking. The bottle was slowing down and it stopped. You followed it’s gaze and realised it pointed to your friend. She giggled.
Luckily it wasn’t… him.
“Ohhh…” He was the first to speak, “Mmm, I see how it is. Come on, ladies. Bring it on…”
You both ignored Trevor. Your friend adjusted her chair so she was facing you and held in a laugh. You did too. At least it was nothing awkward, more humorous. You decided to beat the clock and gave her a small kiss on the lips. She erupted in giggles, holding onto the table for support. The tension finally eased after your first go. It made you think this game wasn’t so bad.
“That was hot.” Murmured that raspy voice.
“Trevor, shut up. No creepy shit.”
“Whatever, Mikey. It’s your turn.”
Michael grumbled something you couldn’t hear and spun the bottle. He sipped his beer and waited for it to stop, and when it did, it was pointing at Bradley. The table was in hysterics.
“Are you fucking kidding me!” The blonde man was in disbelief, “I have to kiss another dude?”
“Just my luck, hm?” Mikey said to Amanda before she urged him to do it, for the games sake.
Trevor clapped his hands, oddly excited to see his two friends kiss in front of him. You’ve been observing him and the way his eyes lit up, them pupils dilating when the game proceeds. He was definitely aroused. You could tell.
“C’mon you guys!”
“Trevor, bro, just shut up!” Brad whined. He shook his head and leaned across the table, closer to Mikey who was also hesitant. They cringed before kissing for a split second and moving away from each other straight after.
You covered your mouth and chuckled.
“You are both fuckin’ pussies!” Trevor cried with distaste, “That weren’t even a fuckin’ kiss!”
Amanda rushed to her boyfriends rescue, “It’s your turn! Go!”
“Oh? You want some, Amand?” He grinned at her.
“Don’t be disgusting, Trevor.”
“Yeah, yeah. Fine, my turn.”
And then your heart only grew more unbearably nerved. His red, bruised hands spun that green bottle. He was right opposite you as well so you saw that concentrated stare in his rugged face. The way he leaned down to spin, some hair strands fell in his face, giving him a really pirated look…
He bit his lip and impatiently waited until it stopped.
You felt your whole body grow paraylsed. That neck, that tip of the damn bottle was facing you. It was just your luck, your VERY luck.
“Oh?” That cat-like smirk grew more perverted, “Look who it is, [y/n]…”
Looking into Trevor’s eyes felt like a Deathwish on it’s own. He was eye-fucking you so hard, it made you shiver. Them cold, dark, brown eyes. They were unmatched, so scary, so intimidating.
“I guess it is.” You slowly spelled out.
“How come Trevor gets the hot chic – “ Bradley’s face was suddenly muffled by Trevor’s hardened hands. He didn’t even look away from you though. He kept his sights fixated on you.
“You’re a lucky girl, [y/n].”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.” He murmured and stood up. His lean figure hovered over the table; his efforts to be closer. This was pressuring enough to make you meet him half-way, but when you tried, he was already pining you against your seat.
The group all watched as Trevor practically climbed over the table just to meet with you. Desperation depicted his sly grin. Them cruel fingers had wrapped themselves around your wrists, trapping you.
“You ready?” His voice purred in your ear.
“Oh my God, stop being a freak!” Amanda was disgusted. She exchanged glances with Michael who was equally as disturbed.
Trevor raised an eyebrow and gave her a side eye, “You wished Michael was this intense and romantic, Mandy. Don’t even start.”
“Excuse me? – “
“You heard me. Now shut up while I give [y/n] a kiss, yeah? That’s a great idea, ain’t it?”
Everyone was dead silent before he returned his attention to you and sighed in your neck.
“Sorry ‘bout that. Anyways, let’s continue the game, ay?” He licked his lips and stared down at yours.
His breath stunk of alcohol, weed, cigarettes, and… Weird metal? You didn’t even want to know. He was bizarre, completely out of your league! You’ve never seen a guy so unpredictable and manic. However, a part of you found it admirable. Inhaling deeply, you gave him what he wanted and kissed his lips.
For you, it lasted hours. Trevor kissed back with passion, his tongue wasting no time and forcing itself into your mouth. You thought to yourself for a brief second; it was only supposed to be a kiss? Why are you letting him passionately make out with you? Why are you enjoying it? At this point, he was properly pushing his weight onto your chair, his shoulders hiding you from everyone’s sights as his face was smashed against yours. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around them masculine shoulders and keep him close, your hands mindlessly tugging at his mullet until someone had separated you both from any further “activities.”
“Fucking Hell, T!” Michael pulled Trevor away from you, both your lips swollen and red.
“What?” He asked breathlessly, “We were just kissing?”
“Kissing? You were eating each other’s faces!”
“You wish you were me, Bradley.”
“Okay, okay, uhh! Can we just… Carry on with the game? From what I last remembered, it’s my turn.” Amanda tried her best to convert the awkward situation. She waited as Trevor walked back to his seat, a look of disappointment on his face after being separated from you.
She placed her cup down and spun the bottle. Michael was watched intently, clearly growing a bit nervous in case she had to kiss either Trev or Brad. He hoped it would be him.
“C’mon, c’mon…” He’d unconsciously hum out loud.
The bottle stopped and you bit into your tongue. It landed on you again.
Amanda chuckled softly and shrugged, “I’m thankful it’s you, [y/n], and not them two chumps.”
“Woah, watch your tongue!” Brad winked. She returned the wink. You had sensed some sort of tension between the two, and so did Michael. He looked at them both, his face growing angered.
You decided to step in and avoid any conflicts.
“Okay, I guess we have to kiss, Mandy.”
She glanced away from Bradley and nodded. You felt Trevor’s eager eyes as you two both kissed and giggled afterwards. Amanda kissed your cheek in a friendly manner before returning to the game.
You had made eye-contact with him again and he smirked. His lips were still swollen but this time, there was a predatory danger behind his pupils. He pointed to your black dress and made a sexual had gesture of a penis and pussy. Your cheeks grew red. The childish flirting actually made you flustered? What has this man done to you…
“Okay, I guess it’s my turn again.” Brad mused.
“Woah, woah – “ You interrupted, “You missed Michael. It’s his turn.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. Go ahead, Brad. I don’t care.”
“Too scared to kiss me, Mikey?” Trevor pouted playfully.
“If I kissed you, I’d catch STDs.”
“Mmm… Not from what I rememb – “
“Okay, Brad go.” Michael quickly disengaged his friend from confessing something that had quickly caught your undying attention. Not from what I remember? You smelt something fishy between them two, but decided not to ask any further questions considering the game was still playing.
Bradley spun the bottle and bounced up and down in his seat. He looked hopeful this time. He was had his fingers crossed.
“Strain anymore and you’re gonna shit yourself.” Your other friend joked, earning a small laugh from Michael.
“Don’t ruin my strive, girl.” He whispered and went wide-eyed when it stopped. The person it face was revealed to be Amanda, and Michael’s amusements fell into despair.
“What?”
“It’s just a kiss, Mikey.” Brad mentioned. It wasn’t helpful at how casual he felt about kissing his friends darling.
“No, not Mandy.” He refused.
“Let her have some fun – “
“Wait… You have the hots for her?” Michael was beginning to get more enraged, “Dude, that’s my fucking girlfriend! Amanda? What the fuck is this? Trevor, bro?” He looked at Trevor with pled.
“What? I don’t know what’s fuckin’ going on.” He huskily uttered from the opposite side of the table.
“Mikey, it’s nothin’! It’s just a kiss!”
“Bradley, I swear to fuck! – “
“Michael!” Amanda held onto his shirt, “Just sit down, please! You are overreacting.”
“Overreacting? Amand, he’s a fucking chump!”
You played around with the green bottle as the game was probably ruined now. Nonetheless, you looked at the clock and decided to leave sooner than later. Whispering to the other friend, you told her about leaving soon and she agreed. The three of them were still fighting; the tension growing, so you stood up and began to collect your things.
Trevor was daydreaming until he’s noticed you stand. He tilted his head and gave you a small frown.
“Where you going, [y/n]?”
You gave him a small smile, “I’m gonna go soon and catch a taxi home.”
“Nah, nah…” He immediately stood as well and rushed over, “Don’t leave me. Can I catch the taxi with you? I ain’t driving back with these pricks.”
“Where abouts do you live?”
“Uhh… I’m renting this motel room with the boys.”
You were holding your leather jacket before he grabbed it and placed it back onto your seat. He sounded more needy now.
“Don’t leave right now. We can sit in one of those booths at the back and get some drinks on, ay?”
“I’d love to, Trevor, but – “
“C’mon… Don’t leave, not after what happened,” He gave you a knowing smirk, “I don’t like pretty girls playing with my heart. I wanna… Get to know you more.”
And you knew exactly what he meant. From the way he was staring down at your dress, it was super clear what he was referring to. You were fluttered. You shouldn’t be though, from what you saw earlier, he was a nutjob.
But he was dashingly irresistible. You studied his facial features again and reintroduced yourself with his scars and classic 70s porno stache. Then you remembered the feeling of his mullet between your fingers. He had oddly soft hair despite the balding and split-ends. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was handsome.
“You like what you see?” He caught interest in your staring.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Don’t apologise. I like it when you look at me.” Trevor whispered and stepped closer. He sneakily outstretched an arm to fit around your waist. He ogled your figure again before tugging you closer so your chests were touching. He had to look down (due to height difference), and he smirked.
“You’re a sexy piece of work. If them cunts didn’t stop me, your dress would’ve been ripped off by now.”
God damn, is what you thought. He was extremely bold and confident. It was too attractive.
“You like that idea?” He purred against your forehead.
Suddenly, the background noise of arguing had disappeared. You were too focussed on Trevor that your whole world, right there, revolved around him.
“Mhm…” You nodded.
“Atta girl. You know, from what I can see, you’d be the hottest on top of me.”
“On top?”
“Yeah, babe. Don’t think I can’t see that fire burning from beneath your eyes. You got that power, I felt it before, I wanna feel it again.”
“Oh God…” You exhaled, your stomach burning up with arousal.
“I’m gonna be honest, [y/n], I won’t make it back at my motel…” Trevor admitted with a grin. His free hand moved to his growing bulge, groping himself.
“Can’t you now?”
“Yeah, ma’am, I can’t.” He growled in your ear.
“Oh, you’re calling me ma’am now?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
You chuckled softly, “Nothing…”
“It sounded like you were complaining.” His grip around your waist tightened as he began moving you both towards the booths.
“I weren’t complaining.”
“Good,” Trevor lets go before jumping onto the leather seats and lying down, “C’mere…” He made grabby hands, his boner visible for you to see.
You hesitantly crawled onto his lap until he grabbed your hips, helping you get comfortable. You sat inches away from his boner and smiled down at him. He seemed to be enjoying your weight.
“Are they still fighting each other?” He’d lowly ask.
To answer his question, you peeked out of the booth and saw them still at each other’s throats.
“Yes, they are.”
“Goodio…” Trevor grabbed the straps of your dress and dragged it down your arms, your chest being exposed willingly. He’d giggle like a child when you were seen without a bra. Your tits were inches away from his face and he began licking the nipples.
You held in a whimper, “Are you sure they won’t see us?”
He didn’t respond. He ripped your dress off fully and yanked you so you were practically lying on him. Your breasts, already caked in his saliva, was suffocating his face as he licked and nibbled every ounce of your skin. The warmth of his tongue made you chew your inner mouth to restrain a moan.
“I knew you had a smashing body under that dress, I could sense it.” Trevor finally murmured, moving his way up your chest to your neck. He smothered your neck with hickeys and bite marks.
“Oh God…”
“You sound perfect, ma’am,” He pressed a kiss against your jaw before unzipping his flies, “I want you. I need you, so bad.”
You straightened your back and sat on his crotch as he freed himself from those jeans he wore. The moment you saw his cock, you traced your fingertip over his tip. Length never mattered to you, so it really didn’t surprise you when he wasn’t big. Trevor didn’t seem to care either – it was attractive.
“Say yes to me.” He pled, staring through his eyebrows.
“What happens if I say yes?” You decided to tease.
His dick twitched at your taunts.
“I want you to ride me, [y/n]. Ride me – “
“Manners?”
He groaned, “Whaaaaaat?”
“Did your mother not teach your manners?”
Sensitive topic, it made him wince and pout. Trevor stayed silent. You noticed how he refused to look at you in the eye. All his confidence dropped when you mentioned his mother. He just continued eye-fucking you and caressing your breasts.
“Trevor?” You broke the silence.
“[y/n],” The way he slurred your name, “Fucking ride me. I ain’t gonna ask twice.”
“But you already asked me twice…”
“You’re starting to piss me off, sugar. Don’t fuck with me.”
“You’re asking me to fuck you.” You pointed out. While in heat, you warmed up his erected cock with your hands. Whether you were prepared, Trevor arched his back and groaned heavily. You didn’t realise how sensitive he was, especially from a handjob.
“Oh, yes… Yes, I like that,” He panted, “Keep going, keep going!”
You grinned and used this for your advantage. He was vulnerable. You pretended to stroke his cock before raising your palm and slapping the tip.
His back arched in pain, “FUCK!” Trevor roared.
You did it again; seeing the same reaction.
“Fuck, oh yeah! OH, SHIT!” He was a hot mess. Every time you slapped his length, he’d only squirm and moan like no one else was in the room. Wrong. People were in the room, but you weren’t bothered anymore. Maybe this crazed guy was more fun than you thought. If only you knew how whiney he was before the game, you wouldn’t be too nervous around him then.
“Take your top off.” You ordered softly.
“Ah… Ah, uh?” Trevor glanced up, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, “My top?”
“Yes.”
He breathed in and out heavily. You had to help him take off his leather jacket and shirt as he was left shirtless, for your taste. He had a hairy chest, quite skinny but oddly muscular. However, the beers he had that day made his stomach bloated so you were greeted with a small, hairy pouch. You trailed your finger across it, using your nail, making him whine and whimper.
“Ohhhh, you’re fuckin’ with me…”
“You wanted me to.”
Trevor glared lustfully at you, “Jesus… You’re too fuckin’ hot, [y/n].”
“Just lie back. You wanted me to ride you, yeah?”
“Yes, yes, yes! I want, I want! I want! Gimme! – “
“Shush.” You pressed a finger against his wet lips.
Trevor raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet. Authority wasn’t his cup of tea, yet he seemed content to follow your commands. He scratched his stache before lying down and holding onto your hips, ready.
“I hope they see this though…” He’d cheekily oppose as you sat down onto his naked lap, his boner painfully fucking your clit.
You nibbled your bottom lip and closed your eyes. You grabbed his penis and used it to cause friction against your clit until you were both squirming against each other.
“Nah, stop… Stop fuckin’ edging me!”
“Easy… Easy…” You’d attempt to calm him. Trevor was growing breathless already. He was arching his back, grabbing the table, jerking his hips up; he was doing everything he could to resist your playfulness.
“Oh, fuck… Nah, do it, please. I won’t be able to last, [y/n].”
You took his words for granted and sat down, your crotches interacting. Once he was fully fucking your insides, volume didn’t seem like a boundary. You’d moan his name and begin to bounce.
“Oh! Yes, God, you’re so fuckin’ wet!” Trevor heaved and migrated his hands from your waist to your jiggling breasts. He squeezed them like a squish toy, making ungodly sounds, varying from grunts to outrageous gags.
“Trevor, ah!” You held onto his wrists and bounced faster.
“Ma’am, ma! – “
“Shit, fuck… Mhm…” His cock would bury itself deeper after he allowed you to dig into him. You couldn’t believe you were having sex with him, you just met him a few hours ago? Comparing his appearance from the second you met him, his mullet was draped in sweat, his dark eyes were dazed and unconscious, his stache was ruffled from the intense kissing. To cut it short, he was ruined.
And it was your fault.
“Yeah, yeah! Oh yeah!” Trevor whined, “C’mon! Give it to me! Your cunt is so fuckin’ sexy, oh yeah!”
You swore the room gotten more quiet as Trevor’s moans echoed. Nonetheless, you ignored it while riding him because the sensation was heavy. It felt like you needed to cum already. Your stomach was dominated with butterflies and Trevor’s cock was furiously twitching and pulsing.
You’d peer down at him with a honest, pleasured smile. Your tongue sat on your bottom lip until it was confirmed that you were climaxing.
“Oh fuck…”
“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum in your pussy!” Trevor – as per usual – was expressive. He kept you riding him as you both choked out some groans, your orgasm meeting with his. His dick loaded an impressive ton of cum inside your cunt, the spillage making you whimper his name.
“Shit, shit…” You breathed.
“More, more!”
“Oh God, okay.”
He sat up and stared at you with a perverted smirk.
“What?” You’d frown.
“Sit on my face.”
“Huh?”
Trevor used his strength and lifted you up from his lap and crawled under. You gasped when he was directly under your cum-soaked pussy. You felt his eyes stab Hell into it.
“Fuckin’ sit on me, [y/n]…” He growled, hands clasping your thighs.
The booth seats were rattling when you lowered yourself onto him. Trevor was still lying on the leather seats, forcing you to hover over his face. Of course, you used the table beside you for stability and in front of you was the whole bar. It was empty, calming your thoughts after the anxiety that more people would come by for a few beers.
“Gimme a piece of your fuckin’ cunt, ma’am.” Was the last thing Trevor muffled before stuffing his mouth into your abused pussy. His tongue, so unreally long, licked up the traces of his own semen after he had filled you up.
You squirmed and gripped onto the table. Your tits were hanging, his handprints marking red bruises all over your chest and neck (not forgetting the amount of hickeys).
“Oh, fuck…” You gulped and looked over your shoulder as you heard rubbing noises. Trevor was jacking himself off when face-fucking you. He was brutal. You watched him interrogate his poor cock like it was replaceable.
“Argh!” He muffled a cry in your cunt.
“Trevor, oh my! – “
You turned around again and went wide eyed when you noticed the group.
They were still there.
“Trevor, they are here – FUCK!” He dismissed your concerns by tongue-fucking you to death. You pathetically moaned, accidentally making eye-contact with Michael who was disturbed beyond belief.
They all grabbed their things and headed towards the exit. You watched in guilt, but at the same time, you were too aroused to care. You began to grind against Trevor’s mouth. His moustache had left rashes upon your thighs and flaps. It was burning hot, it was making you overstimulated – beautifully overstimulated. You wanted more to feel, more to cum to.
“Oh, yeah! Trevor!”
Bradley was the last to leave. Unlike the others, he smirked and gave you a wink. It was an uncomfortable gesture. He was as weird as Trevor, in that creepy way, and you knew when you finish and part ways, he’s going to get questioned about… Your “activities” that they had accidentally walked in to.
“Fuck! Oh yeah!”
You constantly looked over your shoulder to see him orgasming many times. There was a puddle of semen on his stomach. His sensitivity had made him cum when you sat on his face. He had cum when jacking off. He had cum to the thought and feeling of you. It was hard to hear him orgasm considering he was being strangled by your pussy, but in a way, you’d feel his tongue shake with anticipation.
“I- I’m gonna…” You pushed harder against him, “I’m gonna cum!”
Trevor was crawling under your skin, his tongue was torture to your poor cunt. He wasn’t gentle at all. He was beating you to a pimp until you came.
And it was a drastic, messy, unstainable orgasm.
“FUUUUCKK!” You sobbed and trembled.
He licked up the cum that drained into his mouth. He slurped, you heard this, and he slurped again, and again, and again.
“Oh… Oh, my God…”
Trevor’s tongue departed from your sex before pressing hot kisses in your inner thighs, freeing himself from between your legs. He gasped for the fresh air and stared up at you. There were drooled, white liquids oozing from his lips and chin. He grabbed your jaw and pulled your head down, kissing your lips. You tasted your own cum and moaned. Trevor passionately made love to your lips until he pulled away and ruffled up his mullet.
“You tasted like heaven on a golden platter, ma’am…” He giggled dazedly.
You followed the way he tangled up his hair and reached over, stroking it. You draped your fingers across his scalp.
“Mm…” Trevor murmured and closed his eyes, “That’s nice…”
“I like your hair.”
“Oh yeah? I like your tits.”
“Ahh…” You chuckled and felt him knead them with his bare palms again.
“And your pretty little face…”
“That was intense.”
He giggled, “Oh, you’ve seen nothin’ ye – “
“Trevor!” A loud voice interrupting your conversation. Brad was at the bar exit, his face bored, “Bro! C’mon! You finished your little fuck-fest. The fucking taxi is here, hurry up already!”
Trevor glared at Bradley as he crawled out of the booth, putting his cock away and throwing on his shirt again.
“Fuckin’ Bastard…” He whispered to no one in general before helping you zip up your dress and made you look… At least punctual when seeing the rest (who’s shamefully experienced your momentary sex).
“We were long.” You smiled.
“Yeah, but I wanted more time.”
“We will soon.”
Trevor winked and nudged you, “You bet your ass…”
You made your way out of the bar and was greeted with the uncomfortable atmosphere. Mikey was sending stares of Satan at Trevor while Amanda was biting her lips, trying to ignore what she saw.
“I’m here. Now what?” Trevor muttered grumpily.
“Excuse me, ma’am…” You went wide eyed when Brad used the term “ma’am”, almost tormenting you both, “Would you like a ride home with us?”
“Bradley, I swear to fuckin’ God, I’ll kill you.”
“I can’t believe you said ma’am during sex, bro!”
Trevor went to punch him until Michael held him back. He effortlessly held onto the collar of his jacket before the taxi finally arrived, and by then, you decided walking was safer than… A carpool with these heathens.
“You aren’t joining us?” Amanda asked, sitting in the front.
You shook your head.
“No, rephrase that… You ain’t coming?”
“Brad!” T shoved his friend into the car before crawling inside after him.
“Go say goodbye to your madam!
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You heard him scream, then he rolled down the windows and winked, “My motel room is down the main-road West… Show up any time, sugar.”
“Trevor, get your own room! We share that room!” Michael protested.
“Pussy…”
“[y/n], is Trevor’s dick small?” Brad tried to shout over the noise of the engine.
“FUCK OFF, CUNT!” Trevor battered him again.
“Jesus Christ… Get home safe, [y/n].” Mikey muttered before their taxi drove off, leaving you embarrassed, excited…
And fucking sore.
#grand theft auto 5#trevor philips#gta v#grand theft 5#grand theft auto#gta 5#trevor gta#grand theft auto v#trevor philips/reader#trevor philips x reader#trevor gta5#trevor philips/you#trevor philips headcanons#trevor philips x you#trevor philips fanfiction#trevor philipsxreader#north Yankton#my fanfic writing#my fanfiction#grand theft auto fanfiction#Michael townely#Brad snider#Amanda de Santa#Michael de Santa
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First kiss (purly)
𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝
Warnings: drug mention
Word count: 1185
"𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝒶𝓂𝓃 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝓇."
A/N: hey, this is my first time posting on this blog that I'm dedicating to The Outsiders. What you are about to read is a part of my fanfiction on AO3 called "Bad Influence”. If you are interested in it, you can find me by my username @18caramel, or by clicking on the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53118478/chapters/134401192
P.S Ponyboy is 16
picture taken from pinterest :)
Pony stared at the ceiling.
Curly lay on a blanket with scratchy red patterns all over it, in a rugged bed, wasted. Mentally, Curly was far away, certainly not in someone else's room, and certainly not next to Ponyboy.
While Curly was relaxing after the nasty thing he took, young Curtis glanced back and forth at the window and mainly at the irritating streetlight that burned his eyes. He wanted to dim it. It gave him a fucking migraine.
He lay there thinking about everything that had happened in the last few days. He remembered how he had lied to his beloved brother, and Sodapop, though understanding and honest, would never let him leave his house again if he had found out that Ponyboy had nearly overdosed at Winston's party. Soda could never forgive him.
And Darry? They were really torturing him by not telling him about everything that had happened in the last few days. He was unaware of anything, and they all pretended everything was fine. They acted like drugs were non-existent and nobody suffered from them.
And Pony? He was the worst. He had once been a good boy, but now he was in bed with the dirtiest greaser, watching him get high.
Curly finally turned to face him, and all Ponyboy managed to see due to the lack of light was his smile. But not the smile that he used to show him. It was different. He never smiled like that before. It was the one that he hid from everyone.
It was as if Pony's heart had stopped. Curly was looking at him in his euphoric state like he would eat him up right at that exact moment.
But no, he didn't. Curly turned away, and Pony thought that he imagined everything. Maybe Curly wasn't interested in sitting there with Pony, maybe his friends were much cooler and got stoned with him, not like Pony, who acted like a kid by refusing the nasty things that Curly offered.
Suddenly, time froze. Curly squirmed and tossed around, and Pony felt him touch his hand. It all happened so fast that his heart raced, practically escaping from his chest.
"May I?" Curly asked, stroking his hand again and again, so calmly, so gently, that Ponyboy was about to lose his breath.
He hesitated for a second. Curly's eyes were wild, but calm and tired at the same time. Pony blinked and silently nodded.
His hand began to play a cruel game with Pony. Curly caressed it at first, his fingers running over his bare skin as if he stroked a kitten. Pony gritted his teeth, feeling his face turn red. Something was happening to his body, something that he already felt before just from the mere sight of Johnny.
Curly did not hesitate long and put his hand over his, barely applying any pressure. Pony bit his lip and regretted it because Curly's eyes glistened like those of a wild, hungry tiger when he saw him do it. He squeezed Pony's hand, who held his breath, desperately trying not to move. He didn't know what to do. Could he give it all to him? To that ruthless greaser?
Ponyboy didn't think he'd ever hold another guy's hand, wishing it would never end. But at the same time, he was ashamed, very ashamed. He was afraid of it. Afraid of his feelings.
What did Curly want? The one who laid in bed with him, dressed in his favorite black t-shirt that hugged his body so tight that anyone would turn around to check him out in the street. Had he washed it badly on purpose and let it shrink? Did he want Pony to notice?
Who else was looking? Ponyboy's euphoric state faded away. Maybe Curly didn't care about Pony, or maybe he liked girls, like the night when he spotted him dancing with one of them. No, that couldn't have been it. Pony peeked at their hands which made him lose his mind, no, Curly wanted this.
Pony thought that Curly needed a green light. He finally turned his hand so it would fall into Curly's and squeezed it so hard that Shepard almost got woken up from his trip. Curly smirked, and the next thing Pony thought was that he was under the influence of drugs himself. Curly scooted up in bed, crawling closer to Pony so that their heads were almost touching. Curly was stunningly handsome, with his thick, black strands of hair falling over his eyes and with his fucking T-shirt that slid up his waist, revealing his masculine, well build body.
That's it, Ponyboy thought. This was the end of it. He cussed to himself, he despised that awful scarlet blanket, the infuriating street light from the window. Pony was blaming everything but not himself. He didn't know, didn't know whether to give in to his lust. Should he give it all to Curly?
Pony glanced at him. It was as if he was gone. Curly was in another universe, in another dimension. He squeezed Ponyboy's hand and simultaneously placed his head on his shoulder. Curly's hair tickled Ponyboy's collarbone, no, he wasn't naked, it was just that his brother's t-shirt was too big on him. He sighed. Maybe Curly only wanted to be near someone. Maybe he felt alone.
Ponyboy's head slowly fell onto Curly's and his lips pressed against his curly hair. It seemed like he relished it, still squeezing his hand, their pulses beating in unison. This, this was it. Ponyboy's heart skipped a beat as if he had seen a ghost. Curly raised his head, and giving in to Shepard's teasing, Pony leaned in.
He felt Curly's breath on his lower lip, felt it over and over again, and thought it was all a dream. Maybe Pony was asleep? Or had that drug somehow gotten to him through the air? No, it was Curly, Curly Shepard, who didn't want to wait any longer and pressed his lips against Pony's.
It felt delicate as if he was kissing a rose petal. Pony closed his eyes, trying to forget his thoughts that screamed at him to stop. This wasn't right. It shouldn't be like this.
Curly's hand briefly traveled across his body and stopped behind Pony's head, gripping his hair and slowly moving his head closer to his. The kiss grew into something more than Ponyboy had imagined but without tongues involved.
It felt good that way. Pony was in his euphoric state again, thanks to the dark-haired hoodlum, who had no shame in doing what he did.
Somebody turn off that fucking light, Ponyboy begged in his head. It was getting in the way of everything. Pony wanted to melt into the bed, to disappear. But then again, he liked it.
Curly pulled away from his lips for a second, but Pony, forgetting his shyness, pecked his lips, not wanting to let go. It was stupid, he thought, but Curly warmly smiled and kissed him again and again.
There was no more room in Pony's jeans.
That's what you get for kissing that damn greaser.
A/N: thank u for reading! for a more in-depth story you can find it on AO3 "Bad Influence" by @18caramel, here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53118478/chapters/134401192
#the outsiders#outsiders#ponyboy curtis#the outsiders ponyboy#ponyboy#ponyboy michael curtis#ponyboyxcurly#purly#dallaswinston#curly shepard#the outsiders fanfiction#outsiders fanfiction
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A Palomino Christmas
Jack Daniels x f!reader
|| Palomino universe oneshot, out of chronological order as I haven't finished the series yet. Can be read as a stand-alone. ||
{ Fuck Yeah Holidays | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }
Rating: E
Summary: You spend Christmas at the ranch with Jack. You thought the present you got him was inspired until you see him wearing it - the cowboy way.
Inspired by snowsuit anon and this adorable post (and a super cute nickname for a pony) sent to me by @aynsleywalker.
Warnings: !Ski suit action!, drinking, mention of food, gratuitous descriptions of the male bulge body, dirty talk, safe unprotected sex, feelings so fluffy. These holiday fics are for fun, so not as *rigorously edited* as my regular stories, please forgive any mistakes or plot holes!
Word count: 4.5k
Dedicated to @guiltypleasure-girl who I'm so grateful to have made friends with this year and who, imho, draws the best Jack in all the lands. If you don't already, follow her art page @guiltypleasure-art for the most gorgeous fanart ❤️
It’s always busy in the Stateman’s main kitchen on Christmas morning. The smokey burn of firewood warms the cozy space as the radio blares holiday tunes. Poppy presides over the operations at the head of the table - everything is planned down to the T and everyone has a role.
On any other Christmas day, Jack would be her sous-chef, the one she relies on to keep everyone on schedule and in their place.
But alas, today is not any other Christmas day.
The normally put together cowboy ambles around the place like a headless chicken, leaving a trail of half-completed tasks in his wake. Tequila, in uncharacteristic discretion, follows two steps behind.
He turns off the tap that Jack’s left pouring into the already full kettle, draining the excess water and putting it on the boil.
There’s one slice of bread in the toaster, while another lies forgotten on the table, which Teak slides into the free slot and pushes down the lever.
Jack pulls a jar of pickles from the fridge unseeingly, putting it on the table and walking away in search of a mug under three sets of watching, worried eyes. Teak replaces it with his friend’s favourite strawberry jam without a word.
While the oblivious cowboy’s back is turned, Teak motions his hand and forth across his neck in a slicing motion, mouthing nope emphatically at the occupants of the kitchen table.
On his cue, Poppy clears her throat and speaks up, ‘Jack, sweetie, why don’t you go check on the horses after your toast? The stable boys want to leave work early today after doing their morning rounds.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ he answers absent-mindedly, staring down into the empty mug in his grasp as if he’s lost his train of thought.
At that very moment, the toaster pops and Jack practically jumps out of his skin, stepping on Jameson’s paw where he’s lying on his rug in front of the fire, prompting an indignant yelp from the border collie and winces from around the table.
‘Sorry boy,’ he apologises and picks up his toast - burning his fingers - and stumbling over his feet to set his plate down. ‘Mornin’,’ he nods to the others without really registering who’s there.
Jack proceeds to butter his toast with such singular focus that he doesn’t notice when Tequila fills his still empty cup with coffee, only to knock it over immediately when a phone buzzes and his hand flies out to grab his. Ginger and Poppy trade concerned looks as he jumps onto his feet with another apology, snatching a tea towel to clean up the mess.
Eggsy, on potato peeling duty on the other side of the table, isn’t so diplomatic. ‘You’re jumpier than Bambi this morning, cowboy.’
Jack grunts noncommittally and chews on his toast, not rising to the bait.
‘Don’t be so nervous mate, we promise we’ll be on our best behaviour.’
Teak snorts from the kitchen counter where he’s making his PBJ. ‘I don’t know about England, but around these parts, lying on Christmas day is frowned upon.’
Eggsy replies high-handedly, ‘Can’t speak for you, Tequila, but I’ll be on my best behaviour.’
Ginger chuckles as Teak sits down at the table with his sandwich. ‘Ha! I’ll believe it when I see it.’
Jack points a forceful finger at the boys, one after the other. ‘I swear to the baby Jesus Christ, if you two don’t behave yourselves, there will be hell to pay.’
Eggsy snickers. ‘Never thought I’d see the day. Ol’ cowboy Jack falls heads over heels for a bird -’ he screeches when the coffee-soaked rag hits him in the face, which sends Teak into hysterical laughter. ‘Oi! What the fuck, man!’
Ignoring the ruckus, Jack dusts the crumbs from his hands and shrugs on his jacket, grabbing a thermos and filling it up with fresh coffee. With a hurried later, he strides out of the warmth of the kitchen and into the frigid morning air.
Thermos tucked under his arm, Jack rubs his palms together, warming his fingertips with his breath as snow crunches beneath his well-worn boots. The ranch is blanketed in thick snow, a picture-perfect postcard landscape as it is every Christmas. The morning mist has yet to burn off, but he can tell by the peek of blue through the clouds that it will be a fine day.
If your flight is on time, you should be on your way by now. He’d wanted to pick you up from the airport, but you insisted that there’s no point in him driving all the way there when you already know the way. Depending on the conditions, it shouldn’t be long until you arrive.
His list of chores isn’t long this morning - the stable boys will be on duty until lunchtime - but still, he wants to tick all the boxes before you get here. Striding into the heated stables, he says howdy to the grooms and whistles, smiling as dozens of faces appear at the doors, ears pointed forwards in attention, snickering and whinnying at him.
This never gets old.
‘Mornin’ ladies and gentlemen,’ he calls out, wandering down the stalls, rubbing a velvety nose here and pulling on a furry ear there. ‘Who’s ready to stretch their legs this fine mornin’, huh?’
Starting at the end of the stables, he unlatches Bourbon’s door and ushers him out of the stall, then crosses the aisle to let out Tanqueray, Champ’s elderly but still supremely poised Friesian, who clops leisurely towards the exit. Zig-zagging back and forth, Jack whistles, jostles and chats to the horses, all smartly dressed in warm rugs, as they file out down the corridor and into the courtyard for a bit of morning exercise while the stable boys mucked out their stalls.
‘No loitering, ma’am,’ says Jack sternly when Poppy’s mare, Pie, idles in the middle of the building. He gives her a firm pat on the rump to get her moving and whistles at one of the cheeky Shetland ponies who’s snuck into someone else’s stall. ‘Half-Pint! What did I say about stealing your friends’ treats? Shoo, now!’
The stables empty, the echoes of hooves on the concrete ground fading, with Scotch being one of the last to exit. Looping back to make sure there are no dilly-dalliers, Jack’s surprised to find the palomino, who would normally be leading the charge towards the grazing fields, still lingering at the barn doors.
‘Whatcha doin’, boy?’ he calls out.
Scotch tosses his head and steps to the side -
And you appear.
With the biggest grin, you run towards him and fly into his arms.
Your cheeks are wet, the spray of snow powder melting when it hits your skin. It drifts all around you as Scotch eats up the white ground, the thundering hooves muted by the soft cushion of the untouched, overnight snow. The mountain air is sweet and pure and stingingly cold, you can barely feel your face anymore - but it might just be from how hard you’ve been smiling.
You feel like you’re in the middle of a Christmas movie. The lush, green landscape you remember so well from your trip months ago is now all coated in wintry glory, but you still recognise the contours of the land and the mountains. It’s your first time in the saddle since - the whistle of the winds in your ear is a song you remember all the words to, the burn in your out-of-practice muscles all over a familiar old friend.
And you’re happy.
Slowing Scotch to an easy trot as you approach the end of the trail, your breath mists in front of your face as you look down over the ranch, a scene straight out of a classic snow globe, thin wisps of smoke drifting from the chimneys of the wooden lodges dotted across the property.
Gently manoeuvring the palomino to a halt and giving him a pat on the neck, you turn to smile at Jack as he walks up beside you on Whiskey. ‘I’ve missed this so much.’
‘Me too,’ he answers, warm eyes on you.
You give him a sidelong glance. ‘You’ve been here the whole time, cowboy.’
‘I know. I’ve missed you being here.’ He reaches over and pulls your gloved hand towards him, presses a kiss to the back. You want to shuck off the leather and cup his whiskered jawline in your palm, push the well-worn hat off and twine your fingers into his hair -
Later. There will be time for all that later, preferably in front of a roaring fireplace.
You break the moment with an eyebrow arched in a challenge. ‘Race you to the stables?’
Jack grins. ‘You’re on, darlin’.’
Christmas dinner is in the main lodge, which you didn’t use during your trip in the summer. The intimate space is exuberantly decorated in red and gold, a huge, freshly cut pine tree stands proudly by the antique fireplace, a merry fire burning. The table is beautifully laid, silverware immaculately polished and fine china sit alongside holidays-themed napkins. A magnificent feast lines the length of the mahogany dining table comfortably seating eight.
But any kind of decorum stops there.
As the hours tick by and bottles of wine and sherry are emptied, the meal has descended into what Jack warned you in advance as ‘typical Kingsman chaos’. According to the cowboy, the whole Kingsman team comes to the ranch every summer for their annual company retreat, but only Merlin, Eggsy and Harry fly over for Christmas. And while their contingent is small, havoc is an inevitable conclusion where any number of the Kingsman are involved.
Desserts are still being passed around the table - sticky toffee pudding, pecan pie and Yule log - when Teak and Eggsy start to raise their voices and slap the table about British and American Christmas songs. They’re currently yelling - not singing - carols at each other, with Jameson barking excitedly in the background.
Tequila throws his hands up in frustration at Eggsy’s rendition of Twelve Days of Christmas. ‘Why is there a partridge in a pear tree? What the fuck is a partridge?’
Champ and Merlin are having a more civilised but no less intense debate about pies - specifically mince pies versus pumpkin pie as a holiday dessert.
‘Next year, old chap,’ declares Merlin. ‘I’ll bring mince pies with me and you’ll be eating your words, just you wait.’
Jack whispers in your ear. ‘He says that every year, but never does.’
You chuckle and turn your attention to Harry, who’s now insisting that they should put Love Actually up on the big projector screen after dinner, whereas Ginger and Poppy are lobbying for Elf.
‘Why not The Holiday? It’s literally the perfect American-British movie,' you pitch in, which launches another furious tirade of debate at your end of the table.
Jack mumbles under his breath. ‘Because they’re idiots and pointless, festive arguing is a winter sport around here.’
His arm is warm around your shoulders as you giggle into your mulled wine. ‘Is it like this every year?’
‘Yup,’ he answers, really popping the P. With a mild touch of embarrassment, he holds your amused gaze and asks, ‘Too much?’
Tipping your face upwards, you press a chaste kiss to his lips.
‘Just enough,’ you assure him as the corners of his eyes crinkle in the warmest smile.
You didn’t have time to drop off your suitcase at Jack’s cottage, which is a short drive from the ranch, when you arrived in the morning. Instead, with Champ’s blessing, you commandeered one of the guest cabins, all empty in the off-season - which is just as well. By the time midnight rolls around, it’s clear that no one is in any state to make their way back to their respective off-site houses.
Harry and the ladies retired to their borrowed rooms a little while ago, leaving you and Jack to round up the stragglers. You check on Teak, lying face down on the sofa, bundled up in his winter quilts in an aborted attempt to leave. A few steps over, you drape a blanket on Champ and another one on Merlin, who are passed out on armchairs which look comfortable enough to sleep in, socked feet up on matching ottomans. Eggsy is cuddling with Jameson in front of the fire, and Jack feeds the logs to make sure it burns till morning.
It’s bleak outside. Jack shields you from the worst of the winds, tucking you into his side as you trudge across the snow, the early start you’ve had catching up on you. Thankfully, the heating is already on in the cabin when you get there, and he starts a fire as well while you get ready for bed.
When you pad into the bedroom in your pyjamas, teeth brushed and makeup washed off, Jack looks up to see you holding a neatly-wrapped present, a shy smile on your lips.
Standing up from the fireplace, he dusts his hands and reaches for you, palms settling on the small of your back, leaning down to graze his still cold nose against yours. ‘Is that for me, darlin’?’
‘Maybe,’ you reply coyly. ‘Do you want to do presents now or tomorrow morning?’
‘Let’s do it now, I have to feed the horses early tomorrow,’ answers Jack, pecking you on the cheek. ‘Give me five minutes.’
The bed is cold, and you have to steel yourself to burrow into the icy cocoon of the thick covers, missing Jack’s warmth. He doesn’t make you wait long, re-appearing in just boxers, and a big box in hand, switching off all but the bedside lights.
Sliding under the duvet, he yelps when your icy feet tangle into his longer legs, making you laugh. His bare skin heats you up instantly as he wraps one arm around you and pulls you into his broad chest. You feel him hum when he asks, ‘You want to go first, darlin’?’
Blinking up at him, you answer nervously, ‘No - you first.’
He pushes the box your way and you sit up, pretending to shake the package to gauge what’s inside. Jack chuckles, his strong forearms dark against the beige quilt wrapped around his middle. Only his fingers give away his nerves, picking at loose threads in the fabric as you carefully unravel the wrapping paper.
Lifting the lid of the box, your lips part and you stare wordlessly at what’s inside.
‘Jack,’ you breathe. ‘It’s beautiful.’
Gently, you pull out the cowboy hat in tan suede, the smell of fresh leather comforting as you turn it over in your grasp, marvelling at the craftsmanship in the dips and swells of the construction.
‘Try it on, darlin’,’ he says, his shoulders relaxing in relief at your reaction.
You do, and of course, it fits perfectly. Shuffling onto your knees, you crawl closer to kiss him fully on the lips, tilting your head to the side so that his face fits under the brim of your hat. ‘Thank you, I love it.’
Jack arches an eyebrow. ‘You might want to check the box again, darlin’.’
Sitting back on your haunches, you send him an almost accusatory look. ‘You can’t give me two presents, cowboy.’
He shrugs with an insolent grin. ‘I’m a grown man, I’ll do what I like. ‘
Your eyes alight on the black velvet case at the bottom of the box, and you draw it out with careful fingers as if it will break. With one last glance at Jack, you gingerly lift the lid, feeling the hinges creak.
Jack watches you closely, his own breathing suspended as you stare down into your hands, thoughts whirring in his head. Is it too much, too soon? Is he comin’ on too strong? Would you even like it?
After the longest ten seconds of his life, you look up at him with soft eyes and brows drawn, a crack in your voice. ‘Jack.’
He gives you a lopsided smile and reaches for the box. ‘I went back to the same silversmith who made my belt buckle and asked him to make this.’
The chain is delicate in his big, weathered hands. It takes him a couple of tries, but he eventually manages to pry open the hinge of the clasp and holds out the necklace towards you in a question. ‘May I, darlin’?’
Turning around, the bed dips behind you as Jack shifts closer, cool silver kissing your décolletage as he fastens the clasp behind your neck. Your gaze drops downwards, the tip of your index finger testing the weight of the solid sterling pendant in the shape of a flask, Statesman emblazoned in delicate lettering -
A much smaller but exact copy of his belt buckle.
His words draw you out of your thoughts. ‘You like it?’
‘I love it,’ you correct him, twisting around to tackle him into the mattress, your knees around his waist as you loom over him, knocking off your hat so you can kiss him properly. ‘It’s perfect. Thank you.’
The pendant dangles from your neck, tickling him on the chin as he winds one big hand into your hair, his eyes following as it sways. ‘It looks good on you, darlin’.’
The warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest starts to recede as your eyes land on the present you got for him on the bed. The giddiness you felt when you found it is a distant dream, instead, anxiety threatens to take root deep in your head. If you got something from Amazon tonight, is there any chance that they could deliver tomorrow -
‘Darlin’. You’re thinking too loudly,’ says Jack soothingly, chucking you gently under your chin. ‘What’s wrong?’
You shake your head. ‘I got you a really stupid present. Let’s forget about it - I’ll get you something else.’
His brows draw together in concern as he grabs your wrists and pulls you flush against his chest so that there’s nowhere else to look but at him. ‘Don’t say that, there’s no such thing as a stupid present. Whatever you got me, I’m sure I’ll love it.’
You inhale deeply, chewing your bottom lip. ‘You mentioned a few weeks ago that your leather jacket and fleeces are too bulky and it’s hard to move around in all the layers when it's cold.’
He nods encouragingly. ‘That I did.’
Propping yourself up on your elbows, you reach out and drag the package towards him. ‘Well, I saw this at my local shop, and thought it might help.’
Jack gives you a reassuring smile and leans back into the pillows, grabbing the present excitedly. He pulls you against his side, as if he’s trying to squeeze all the self-doubt out of you, the gift draped across your laps as he starts to unwrap it.
You’re a bundle of jitters when he rips off the wrapping paper with impatient fingers, and the lightweight and puffy blue fabric comes into view.
Jack shakes out the neatly folded one-piece. ‘Is it - a ski suit?’
You nod and point out the black contrasting detailing on the front of the suit. ‘It's light and it's warm. Look at the western design with the single point pockets - I couldn’t not get it for you.’
Jack chuckles, the sound warming you as his arm tightens around your shoulders. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. So simple, yet so clever.’
‘You like it?’ you ask in the smallest voice.
‘I love it,’ he grins, drawing you in for another kiss. ‘Thank you, darlin’.’
Finally assuaged, you sag against him, a yawn creeping up on you as the tension in your body recedes. ‘You want to try it on now?’
Tucking you in, he says, ‘I’ll try it tomorrow, it’s been a long day for you, darlin’.
Putting your hat and his ski suit on the bedside table, Jack turns off the light, his body immediately seeking out yours under the sheets, claiming every inch of you with a leg between your thighs, front plastered to your back, palms under your ratty pyjamas top, splayed across your naked skin.
It’s been too long.
Nose tucked behind your ear, his arms full of you - finally here after months of feeling your phantom weight in his embrace - the night slips away as the snow falls outside.
It’s too warm under the covers when you wake up, even though Jack’s side of the bed is empty. You stretch lazily, the clock reads 8am but the fire is still going strong, he must have stoked it when he got up.
You decide to make some coffee and wait for him to come back before venturing to the communal kitchen for breakfast. While the water boils, you smile as you fiddle with the necklace sitting on your chest, warm and reassuring against your skin.
The smell of caffeine fills the cabin as you sip from your mug, and before long, you hear Jack stomping up the stairs, humming a country tune in his raspy baritone as he approaches the door.
Pouring him a steaming cup, you say, ‘Hey, I made you some coffee -’
You trail off when you turn around.
Your morning brain can’t quite grasp the picture in front of you. Jack’s still wearing his cowboy hat, his nose red from the cold. Vaguely, you realise he’s wearing the present you gifted him - and you congratulate yourself on the fact that it fits him like a damn glove.
The ski suit accentuates his broad shoulders and tapers in at his waist in a flattering cut, the zipper drawn all the way up to the hollow of his throat. He’s replaced the detachable belt that came with the ski suit with his own, the flask bottle buckle popping against the blue.
But the bottom half - that you have trouble comprehending. It takes you a beat longer to realise why.
He’s wearing full-length cowboy chaps over it.
Chaps are essentially leather trousers with the seat cut out, and Jack's wearing them with his belt looped through the straps. You know he only uses them when it’s muddy, to keep his jeans clean. He didn’t wear them at all on your pack trip, but you’ve seen a peek on Facetime in the rainy months in between. And now that you're seeing them in person, you decide that like them - a lot.
Your gaze, slow as molasses despite being completely unburdened by shame, slides all the way down to the triangle of blue framed by the negative space in the brown chaps where - for the lack of a better expression - his prominent endowment hangs heavy at the apex of his strong thighs. Not that you’re trying to look, but you can see the very heft of him through the fabric.
Jesus H. Christ. It’s too fucking early to be sinning.
When Jack realises that you’re staring, he says somewhat apologetically, clearly oblivious to the merry tangent your mind has gone off on. ‘Sorry, I know I’m not meant to wear it this way, but I didn’t want to get it dirty -’
You shake your head hastily. ‘No, it’s not that. It’s - perfect.’
Something breathless in your tone catches his ear, and he tilts his head to the side, one large hand coming to rest on his hip, thick fingers spread obnoxiously wide over the side of the chaps. The beginning of a cocky smile lifts the corner of his mouth. ‘Yeah, darlin’? You like it?’
Leaving your mug on the counter top, you bite your lip and give him your best teasing grin. ‘Why don’t you turn around so I can take a better look, cowboy?’
He arches an eyebrow at your boldness, but decides to indulge you. Voice dropping an octave, he rasps, ‘Better take a seat for this, darlin’.’
You grin and do as you’re told, turning the kitchen chair around so that you’re facing him, running your eyes up and down his frame as he steps into your space, narrow hips swaying to a beat you can’t hear. Hooking his thumbs into his belt, he suddenly turns with a dramatic flourish and arches his back, granting you an unrivalled view of his behind framed by the chaps cut off at the top of his thighs, the ski suit tight against his pert bottom.
‘Enjoy the view, darlin’?’ he asks, grinning over his shoulder at you.
You swat him on one cheek playfully, and when he swoops suddenly into your lap in a classic burlesque move, you squeal, ‘Jack!’
Bending his knees, he grinds into your thighs as you laugh, the ski suit soft on your skin while the leather chaps scrape against your bare shins. Turning around, he reaches up to tug the suit’s zipper downwards in a slow, deliberate course, and he purrs, ‘What say you if ol’ cowboy Jack gives you a proper show, hmm?’
You inhale sharply as the white wife beater underneath comes into view, and you reach up to help him push one side of the ski suit off his shoulder, revealing the firm line of his left arm.
‘Thought that was more of Teak’s thing,’ you quip, licking your lips as your eyes skim down his front to settle on the weighty bulge now straining against the front of the suit, your eager fingers pulling him closer by his belt buckle.
Gripping the edge of the table, he traps you into your seat, his stare dropping to the matching pendant resting on your now heaving bosom, taking in your blown pupils as he grins. ‘Anythin’ for you, darlin’.’
‘Aren’t I the luckiest girl,’ you muse, taking off his hat and flinging it onto the table, his hungry stare alone pinning you in place when you drag him down to you by his lapels.
Warm lips part yours and he delves into your mouth, kissing you deeply. The promise of more leaves you chasing him as he draws back with a drawl. ‘You’re about to get a whole lot luckier, darlin’.’
The thick material of the ski suit is almost pillowy as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. It rubs gently on your nipples as you rock against Jack, arms wound around his neck while his desperate hands cup and knead the plump swell of your ass, dragging you up and down his hard cock.
‘That’s it, you’re ridin' me beautifully, darlin’,’ he growls into your ear, exhaling hot and heavy as he nips your collar bone. ‘Missed you so much.’
His chaps are slippery under your bare thighs from your slick, and you clench at the sensation of being completely naked on top of him when he’s still fully clothed, only his belt and zipper undone so that he can fuck up into you, the rickety kitchen chair groaning under the weight of the two of you.
‘Missed you too,’ you whisper against his lips, crying out when he hits a particularly deep spot inside you. ‘Yes, yes, harder, Jack.’
Leaning forward, he takes one breast into his hot mouth, one eye on your necklace that’s sticking to your sweaty skin before licking you between your tits and over the silver pendant, the salt sharp on his tongue. He hums, ‘You wear it so well.’
‘I won’t take it off, ever,’ you swear, throwing your head back when he scrapes his teeth against the column of your neck, so full of him that your knees quake.
‘Good,’ growls Jack, thrusting harder into you, making your breath stutter. ‘Keep me with you, darlin’ - always.’
You smile, fingers curled into his hair, stealing a tender moment as your noses bump and eyes meet with the easiest promise you will ever keep. ‘Always.’
Notes: Am I allowed to pick favourites? I'm not? I'm doing it anyway -- this is my favourite out of all the holiday fics, no question! I'm so soft for cowboy Jack and his darlin' 🥹 We've been spending time with just the two of them so far in the series, so it was really fun to explore the group situations, especially with the Kingsman involved!
I hope you enjoyed this fluffy interlude. Wishing you all a very merry Christmas and thank you so much for reading ❤️
#jack daniels x you#jack daniels fanfic#jack daniels x reader#jack whiskey daniels#jack daniels#jack daniels x fem!reader#jack daniels x f!reader#kingsman golden circle#fuckyeahholidays#‘tis palomino season
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Slow, heavy hoofsteps thud against the snowy mountain path. The elegant strides of a shining silver mare. The quick, light steps of a rugged pony just barely keeping up. The slow, heavy beats of hooves older than any of you can fathom. The calm, steady treading of a yet calmer, steadier horse. At the front is your horse, whose steps only sound like home.
Dark, rough cliffsides frame the bone-white path in front of you perfectly; the slope only becomes gentle enough for snow to have properly settled on it far above you. Even so, you do not feel trapped, for where the stone walls of the dam once were is now a world only waiting, even begging, to be seen and heard and felt, and you only need to reach out a hand to feel it. The island is eerily still—not a wind along the coasts, not a wave in the ocean, not a trembling leaf in the forests—and you know, now, that this is the calm before the storm. Finality rests on your shoulders, as heavy as the world itself. Each breath you take and each step forward brings you closer to the only moment that has ever mattered. The only moment that ever will matter.
It is the first day in weeks that the sun shows itself. When golden light fills the mountain pass at midday, you climb a nearby lookout point to watch. Never before have you seen something so beautiful. The snow-covered mountains shine so brightly that they nearly blind you, and the inhospitable cliff walls surrounding the mountain pass almost begin to look warm. In the distance, the sea glitters with oranges and golds brighter than you’ve ever seen. In a crevice next to the lookout, a small, babbling brook gleams in the sunlight, somehow still flowing even in the deep, harsh cold.
Jorvik’s winters have always felt special. Now, you feel every tree’s pleasure at the sun’s return, the warmth once again cast upon their cold, weary branches. Every snowflake’s whimsical joy at finally getting to glitter bright golden once again. Every animal small and large stopping for a moment to feel the sun upon their skin. It leaves you awestruck in the same way Jorvik’s sunrise did the very first time you witnessed it. The sun slips back beneath the horizon after only a short while, and yet you feel like the glimpse of warm, golden light could keep you satisfied for an eternity.
Only long after sunset, when you are all far too worn out to keep riding, do you settle down for the night. You still have a long way to go, and it is best to keep up the pace. There is tension in the air; none of you have spoken since before you left, and something is beginning to bubble underneath the surface of the unbroken silence. You wait patiently. You have known since you began your long ride that the Soul Riders will ask you how you knew that it was time. When they finally do, huddled in a small half circle around a makeshift campfire, you answer honestly and without fear, for you feel all the island’s hope within you, and your horse’s muzzle is warm against your shoulder.
Off the coast, something is coming back to life. You have never been more ready to face it.
#Post again on Thursday same time as this one#It's exactly what you think it is#this chapter’s titled The Calm Before the Storm on AO3 btw. fun fact. very fun#sso#star stable#star stable online#ssoblr#sso fic#ssofic#jorvikpov
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“gonna ruin all that pretty makeup” pg
yes yes yes 🥵
You weren’t even supposed to be going out tonight.
The plan was a quiet night in with your boyfriend, Pierre, but one thing led to another and now you’re tipsy in the back of a cab with his lips on your neck.
“Pierre, stop it.” you giggled, giving him a light shove. The man laughs, resting his hand on your thigh.
His fingers rub along the exposed skin until you get back to his apartment, leaving you be for the few minutes.
His hands on your hips as he followed behind you to the elevator. Your back pressed to his chest as you waited for it to reach up to his floor. You bend down, pulling you heels off, your ass grinding against him.
You can feel Pierre shift, stifling a groan as his hand slides across your stomach, holding you in place. You two make it into the apartment and as soon as the door closes, his lips are on yours.
“You look so fucking good tonight.” Pierre mumbled against your lips. His hands squeezing your ass as he picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom.
He puts you down, not on the bed but on the rug. you’re on your knees, looking up at him.
Pierre’s hand finds your chin, tilting it up so you look directly at him.
“So beautiful like this,” he says, fingers rubbing along your cheek.
He lets go of your face, moving his hand to undo his pants and you open your mouth, tongue out as you wait for him.
Pierre smiles, watching as you lean forward, your hands on your thighs. “Gonna ruin all that pretty makeup.” He says, his cock on your tongue, he doesn’t move but he lets you lean forward and wrap your hand around the base of it.
“Fuck baby,” he breathes, his hand moving to pull your hair into a makeshift pony. “So fucking good, look so beautiful with my dick in your mouth.”
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Recreated Baylock from red dead redemption 2 in the Sims 4
Check out the video on my youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCz_u8j2uFlZchZhk09ZAg1A
CC links for Baylock:
Main:
Https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4/title/chief-alpha-style-horse-mane/id/1665470/
Tail:
https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4/title/lucky-alpha-style-long-horse-tail/id/1665545/
Forelock:
https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4/title/cinnamon-alpha-styled-forelock-for-horses/id/1670858/
Halter with fluff:
https://emelie-png.tumblr.com/post/724671446056665088/halter-accessories
Pixel Pony horse shine (stencil)
https://kebbe-sims.tumblr.com/post/724473686800941056/dl-simfileshare
Horse rug :
https://www.tumblr.com/objuct/tagged/the%20sims%204
Bridle:
https://minervamagicka.tumblr.com/post/725603393500020736/mmxsc-loose-ring-snaffle-bridle
Saddle:
https://www.patreon.com/posts/sims-4-saddle-86934214?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_creator&utm_content=join_link
Tackset:
https://www.tumblr.com/buckarooranch/727732915208912896/greetings-everyone-thank-you-for-being-patient
Leg wraps:
https://www.tumblr.com/walnuthillfarm/726928710484246528/racing-tack-set-photo-taken-before-i-made
Realistic horse overrides:
https://www.patreon.com/posts/86448581
https://www.patreon.com/posts/smaller-eyes-eye-86952249
https://minervamagicka.tumblr.com/post/723577729759494144/ts4-default-replacement-horse-skin
https://www.tumblr.com/smughippie/723924385045659648?source=share
Thanks to all CC and mod creators who make the horse ranch worthwhile.
Lots of love to everyone who supports my channel and small content creators
XOXO
#sims 4#sims4horse#sims 4 equestrian#ts4 custom content#the sims 4#sims 4 horse cc#sims 4 horse pack#sims 4 horses
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is it ok if i ask if u got any latinx hcs for any of the mha characters? 😚
oh absolutely and for the record I think any of them could be latinx but these are the ones who give me the most "oh? don't you remember your cousin ___" vibes when you meet them at like the barbecue.
NOTE FOR ANYONE WHO WILL READ THIS AND GET MAD: Japanese people can be of any descent. Japan, and any country for that matter, is not the homogeneous and monolithic population that the vocal minority and otherwise nationalist weirdos love to voice. There are people of all sorts of heritages in Japan and if this makes you mad, I encourage you to log off.
obligatory disclaimer that i'm writing this from a mexican point of view etc etc and is not universally applicable to the vast wealth of community we all have and is coming from what I see in my own lived experiences.
FUMIKAGE. TOKOYAMI. I don't care what anyone says that bird is latino and has darker skin. The anime has LIED. i would bet you anything he cusses under his breath in spanish and the bull skull he has in his room was a gift from his grandpa on the ranch who was like "here mijo for your room. you like skulls right??" and he was just like (a little choked up) mm-hmm.
Ibara Shiozaki. Self explanatory I just know she's Mexican Catholic. One of her alias' is Maria which you KNOW is her middle name and/or her baptismal name. Her casual wear also screams that to me as well like I know it I just know it look at the shawl and those boots. I see and I perceive the truth. She and Tokoyami are two sides of the raised catholic coin: either you go full devout or you become the edgiest kid in the world.
Pony Tsunotori is 100% one of those blonde latinas who grew up on a ranch in New Mexico and watched a lot of Dragon Ball Z. Sorry not sorry, but it's literally canon that she loved anime and I choose to believe her hero outfit takes at least a little inspiration from some of Bulma's outfits (the yellow puffy jacket dress specifically)
Present Mic is an honorary mention because idk if he is or isn't but he embraces the culture so completely and fully I have decided he's one of us now. Nobody would cut a rug on the floor like Hizashi Yamada and I just know he'd be into the food especially. Once again polyglot Hizashi Yamada WILL be canon.
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Can someone tell me if they've also seen this behaviour?
So two of the dominant mares have lost their positions in their respective herds of late, and both for very similar reasons.
Both of them are mothers who had their foals on the farm, both have kept their offspring at heel and both have had trauma associated with their offspring.
Now the mother/daughter couple are two of the acolytes of Epona. Now though her daughter was around 7 or 8 years old, mum was still letting her udder feed. Mum had weened her daughter off once before, but severe stress brought the behaviour on again. We just let it happen as it seemed to serve as a means of coping with stress (of which, a fair bit had been happening at the time). Mum was content, daughter was content, we weren't going to interfere because of rule 1 (never get between an active parent and their offspring).
Of late however, the two of them have stopped with udder feeding and they're interacting with others in different sub-herds. However, while Mum had been feeding her youngest she was high up in the herd's pecking order, holding a spot at maybe third or forth position (depends on how you count the rogue element in the herd, the pony mare I have come to call Rambo). But now that she isn't nursing her youngest, she (and her daughter, but you get the feeling that alot of her bravado may have come from "stop it or my mum will beat you up") has gone down a lot in rank and isn't fighting quite as much with the others, choosing instead to opt out of fighting rather than hold her ground.
The second mare in our case study is the mother of our current patient, who is recovering from colic surgery.
Now the patient was a bit of a surprise foal. Mum was skin and bones when she was rescued from the abattoir yard and for most of the winter she was rugged and watched over by a third party who wasn't paying a lot of attention to the horses in their care. So it was a surprise to find out that mum was pregnant with the little troublemaker to be. Later on down the line, mother and son were sold off together, but were rather forcefully separated and this wasn't good for them. They were returned to the care of the farm and since that day, mother and son had been inseparable; if you saw one without the other, something was wrong.
So several years later, he's recovered from an infected pedal bone, she's recovered from an torn ligament and cutting part of her eyelid open (and I learnt that sewing buttons can be used as flesh washers) and they're still hanging out together in a very small herd with his adoptive aunt (whose backstory involves losing her foal at the abattoir). The three of them pretty much go everywhere together. Mum and Aunt basically fight over who is in charge, with the poor boy caught in the middle.
Then comes the severe impaction colic. We have to take him to a hospital a couple of hours away for major surgery and our first concern is, of course, Mum. However, during the 5 days he was away, she wasn't overly stressed. (Aunt seemed to take it worse and was the happiest to see him upon his return.) Mum has lost her desire to be top mare, even letting the two newcomers to their small herd push her around. Aunt is now firmly in charge. He is currently on a restricted diet in a stall that she and the others have access to for visits, but during an incident when he got out, it was him who kicked everyone but mum off so they could graze on the round together.
She does seem happy to see her son, but doesn't seem as protective as she once did.
I know mares get protective of their young and we have a few other mother/child pairings in the mega-herd, but none are this driven to be at the top.
Has anyone else noticed such domineering behaviour in mares who are looking after foals at hoof, only for them to return to their docile selves when their child grows up?
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Overview of Western Horse Saddle
Introduction
The western Horse saddles is one of the most beloved horse tack styles in history. It's a symbol of the American West and its rugged inhabitants, who used these saddles to ride through canyons, mountains, and prairies. Today's western saddles come in all shapes and sizes—from small-scale models for kids' ponies to larger adult versions made for horses with huge backsides or even just wobbly backs! But what makes this style so popular? Read on as we explore the history behind this iconic piece of equine gear:
What Is A Western Saddle?
The saddle is the most important piece of equipment for a cowboy. It’s designed to be comfortable for the rider, and protect their horse's back. The saddle is made of leather and wood because they both have different qualities that make them ideal materials for this job.
The first thing you need to know about western saddles is that they are not like your typical riding mare or hunter saddle that we see today—they were developed over hundreds of years by people who knew what they were doing!
Looking for a Western Saddle for sale? Look no further! A western saddle is a key piece of equipment for any horse enthusiast looking to ride in the western style. Whether you're a beginner rider or an experienced cowboy, a well-made western saddle is essential for both horse and rider comfort and safety. With a variety of materials, styles, and sizes to choose from, there's a western saddle out there for every rider and every horse. So why not invest in a quality western saddle and take your riding experience to the next level? Check out online marketplaces or local equestrian shops to find the perfect western saddle for you and your equine companion
History of the Western Saddle
The Western saddle is one of the most widely used and recognizable saddles in Western riding. It originated in the United States as a result of the need for a comfortable, durable saddle for cowboys who had to ride all day long.
The first documented use of this type of saddle was by members of the Lewis and Clark Expedition who were traveling westward across America from 1803 to 1806. While on their journey, they learned about various tribes that lived along their route; one group was called Wichitas (or "Wichita") Indians and they used moccasins instead of boots or shoes when walking or working around camp because they didn't want anything getting stuck between them while wearing socks made out of animal skin!
When these same explorers returned home after completing their mission at Fort Mandan/Fort Union then later on down south towards Missouri Territory where another tribe called Pawnees lived nearby...they brought back many different types including but not limited too: Native American Wind Tops; Spanish Slippers etc....which later became popular among people living further away from civilization where there wasn't much access yet available yet either due lack thereof
Types Of Western Saddles
Western saddles come in a variety of styles, but the most common western saddle is called the stock saddle. This style is good for both riding and roping because it offers good balance.
The stock saddle was originally designed to be used by cowboys on horses or mules for work purposes (e.g., carrying loads), but today it's more often used as an everyday riding item like a road bike or touring bike would have been back when they were first invented!
Our Recommendations For The Best Western Saddle
When choosing a western saddle, it’s important to keep in mind that there are many different types of saddles on the market. Some are made for racing and some for pleasure riding, but all of them have their pros and cons. We will discuss some of these different types below:
The Western Saddle is essentially a horse-back riding saddle with very thin padding (usually just two inches deep). It has no suspension system or cantle; this means that if you fall off your horse while riding on this type of saddle then you could be seriously injured or killed by hitting the ground hard enough! The best way to avoid this risk is by only using this type of saddle when taking lessons at an equestrian center where professionals have shown us how safe they really are!
The English Style Saddle features more padding than most other styles do because it's designed specifically for English riding competitions where riders need extra protection from harsh terrain; however even though these names sound similar they aren't interchangeable between countries like America vs England so make sure before purchasing one whether its meant for USA/Canada content
The best western saddle is a must-have accessory for your horse.
The best western saddle is a must-have accessory for your horse. It's comfortable, durable, and stylish—and it can make all the difference when it comes to keeping you and your horse happy on a daily basis.
If you're looking to buy a new saddle or upgrade an old one, here are some things to consider:
Comfort - What kind of comfort does the saddle provide? Are there any hard points that could cause chafing or rubbing? Does it offer enough padding where needed (i.e., behind the croup)?
Durability - How long will this item last before needing replacement parts/materials? Is there anything about its design that makes them vulnerable to wear & tear over time like metal buckles versus plastic ones do
Conclusion
As you can see, there are a lot of different types of western saddles. We recommend that you do some research before deciding what type is best for your horse and budget.
Read Also:
Western Horse Saddle
Western Saddle for sale
Horse saddle For Sale
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I just.. wish my nan and my dad wouldn't wipe my transness under the rug when I came out. It's like they just want one part of me to stay like it "always has been" because they know I'm the failure child. I know I'm the failure child. We all do. I'm best friends with my replacement and yet nobody knows who I am. Am I just going to have to keep coming out to them until they finally accept it? I.. don't want to do that. I just want my dad to understand. I want them to understand.
If I had to tell them everything... I dont know how I'd do it. I wanna sit down in a room with them and a third party to just.. talk about it. I want them to stop ignoring me. I want them to understand. But they won't... they don't even know if I'm a child or an adult. Old enough to shoot a gun and drive a car but not old enough to express myself without conditional love. I just... wanna be a boy without judgey looks or tense air. I wanna go to sleep without crying for 2 hours first. I wanna feel comfort in my own skin. I want my voice to sound like my own and not some.. teenage girl. I hate that word. Girl. It makes my mouth feel like throw up just thinking about it.
I don't want an apology for how I feel I want an apology for what you've done. I want an apology, a real one, for you making my want to commit awful acts to myself every time I'm alone. I want an apology for all of the awkward silences filled with unanswered, untouched questions in the backs of our minds. I want an apology for the pain. You don't understand and if you keep this up, you never will.
May we hope this is not my final goodbye.
When I die I want people to know I was a person, not just a statistic. I want people to know I loved my brother and my theatre department. I want people to know I loved being on stage. I loved minecraft and overwatch. I loved Nintendo and littlest pet shops, my little pony, and the teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Mikey was always my favorite. I loved Markiplier and Jacksepticeye, Eleanor Neale, and Therm. I loved Ethan is online, nickisnotgreen, and Jarvis Johnson. Oversized sweatshirts and dogs. Sticks and the mountain air. Worms and bugs. I loved hand painted wallpaper. I hated math and authority. I want people to know the pain that came with being transgender and I want people to know that my parents and my life never affected my transness. Ever since I had a general grasp on gender I always knew I didn't fit into where I was placed. I just.. didn't know how to express it or what it was. I thought it was just something I had to live with, knowing I was something else but acting as is. Now I have a name. I told my parents about it, I was excited to finally be able to be a boy. But when time came.. they threw me away. They replaced me. When I finally announced it I was cast aside. Ignored. I was the uncomfortable air in the room. I was a smudge on a white counter top.
Let this not be a suicide note.. let this be something people can learn from. I don't want to leave behind the things I love but... I can't deal with all of this. I'm not going to die. In not going to commit suicide. That's a stretch.. I won't commit suicide if they accept me. And if they do not well.. I wanted to say thank you to Malcolm for pushing me into something I grew to love with all my heart, Maren for being the light in the dark, Nico for being there for everyone. Dexter for being my thread to hold onto for so many years, Mary Santa for helping all of us through hard times and making something for these lost kids to fill their hearts with, Alyssa for changing my world view, Franklin for bringing the laughs, learning, and knowing when to be real, Catie Page for helping me open up a little, Bunnie for being such a fun person to meet, and everyone else. If I didn't mention you by name it is not because I didn't care enough it's just because there are far too many people who helped me.
One last person I want to thank is Reese. I want to thank you for showing me how to love. What it should feel like. Even if in the end you broke my heart I still can't completely let go how happy our time together was. I apologize for anything I did to upset you ever, but I wanted to say one last goodbye.
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another drabble idea, since THIS also popped into my noggin’:
it’s post-disbanding. micah, dutch… everyone’s scattered. except for one man who found himself troubled with a choice: standing behind the safety of numbers, or jumping ship towards what was right…
in the end, the man tan of skin and sleek of dress meanders up the hill with hat in hand, limp heavy and footing unsure. he chose is side in the end, the side for what was truly right… the side that he soon finds lying in front of him, alone upon rugged rocks as wheezes left the dying man’s torso. fear swallowed the spaniard whole, dropping whatever he had left to fall beside the withering morgan man.
“hey— hey wait! no no, c’mon, arthur. not like this…!”
he’d been wise to the latter’s state, the constant sputtering beforehand leading to the disclosure of what was preying at arthur’s lungs. yet, despite that, it was the fact that the man still stood for what he believed in despite the misery his body had been put through that really opened javier’s eyes. it was what ultimately made him make his final decision. javier picked the fallen up as best he could, giving him something to lean on and to keep any blood at bay from choking him…
fast forward to months later, the stressful journey of a short past ago that led to escuella smuggling the once prized pony of the van der linde gang out of the country, back to his homeland. not that it was much better… except for the heat, the dryness of it. it was what arthur needed, at least from what was relayed from one faithful doctor’s visit in saint denis. he never had much to begin with, but even the sharp clothes off his back was enough to obtain a small plot of land, a shanty upon a dusty patch with space for barely two people. arthur remained in and out of consciousness, the only thing keeping him alive being the heat and weather allowing a battered body to heal properly, conditions never halting.
javier became a shell of himself, no longer clad as flamboyantly as he once had been— yet, that was just fine with him. the man understood revolution, what it meant to be free. the only thing he cared about then was keeping such a form of freedom alive. it had been months before arthur had managed to make a decent recovery, to which javier could finally see his homeland as being good for something. despite lacking the plentiful energy arthur once had, the spaniard was more than pleased to still have the chance to hear arthur’s voice once more. his new leader’s voice. he’d saved one golden child, and now he’d saved another…
okay anyway sorry but I NEEDED SOMEWHERE TO BLURT MY IDEAS OUT
#𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙨 — 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙣...#javier smuggles arthur into mexico#basically keeps him warm and dry#constantly tending to him y’know#arthur manages to be one of those 1/7 ppl#to survive and stuff yay!#arthur is javier’s new dutch
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Fleece Rugs & Horse Coolers
Horse coolers and fleece rugs are highly absorbent rugs designed to wick moisture away from the horse's skin, helping to keep the coat dry and preventing your horse or pony from catching a chill. they’re also perfect to assist in drying your horse after a bath or to use as a travel rug for competitions. https://tack24.co.uk/collections/fleece-rugs-horse-coolers
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