✶ pairing | andrew pope cody x f!reader, titus danforth x f!reader, jack abbot x f!reader ✶ word count | 1.1k ✶ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, praise kink, begging, overstimulation, squirting, orgasm control, desperate, soft dom!jack abbot, rough, teasing, breeding kink, pet names, choking, prone bone, spooning, mating press, multiple orgasms, size kink ✶ notes | for anon 🩷 follow up of this fic.

masterlist | ao3 | inbox | requests, taglist, submissions: open

prone bone | titus danforth fucks you fast and rough. rippling strength and punishing thrusts as he forces you to take what he gives; a starving bloodhound unmuzzled and set free with greedy hands and a hungry mouth. bullies your pussy into submission as he claims the softness of your body, hammering into you until you're slick and stupid, soaking his cock in sticky gushes of cum over and over and over again as he drives himself to exhaustion. leaves you shaky and half aware as he keeps you pinned beneath his weight, chest plastered to your back as dense thighs wedge between your legs to keep you spread open and wide. and when you claw at silken pillows for purchase, he chuckles. locks a forearm around your throat like a collar, the thick muscles squeezing down on your voice box as he tugs you harder into the crushing weight of his chest. suffocating, surrounding as your thoughts scatter like confetti. head floating and fuzzy as your vision glazes over, pulse pounding in your ears as all your focus narrows in on the burning heat of him behind you. the sweat slick catch of his skin over yours, the heady scent of his cologne clogging your nose as he grunts rough and exhales harsh, riding you hard. helpless and at his mercy while liquid fire coils low in your belly, your poor clit aching for attention he won't give until you're overstimulated and sobbing. when you whine - a choked, reedy little noise - and drool, he rewards you with a filthy drag of his tongue over your fluttering pulse point. you voice cracks when you beg him to cum, pump you so full you'll be leaking for days, "please, please, please." he responds by slamming his fat cockhead into your cervix, little kisses of pain-pleasure dancing along your nerves as you moan low and pitiful. then his chin hooks over your shoulder, stubble rubbing your neck raw from friction, growling into your ear, "that's it, fuckin' take it like a good girl. i'm not done with you yet."

spooning | jack abbot fucks you slow and leisurely. nuzzles his face into the back of your neck, his breath puffing across your skin shivery and warm as he rocks his hips into yours. tender as he takes his time mapping out your body. one arm is supporting your head like a pillow, stretched out under you across the bed while the other drapes down along your flank. brackets you in his embrace while a calloused palm massages the outside of your thigh. grinds close to hear you moan softly, feel the way your pussy clamps down on his fat cock, squelching. stuffed full and spread wide as silken walls struggle to squeeze around the girth of his shaft. all while you beg him to press in deeper, thrust faster, use you harder. he just hums in response to your whining as he follows the path of your curves, touches unhurried and caressing. questing and questioning. noting what makes your pretty mouth drop open in a gasp. cataloging what patterns on your aching little clit make you jolt in his arms. learning what touches make your brain short circuit and your pussy drool, thighs sticky and trembling. he cups the underside of your breast, the pad of his thumb circling your areola in meandering, teasing patterns. plays and plucks the tender bud until you arch and whine his name, head lolling back over his shoulder. sheathed inside you, his cock pulses once, twice. a solid weight that drags along the sensitive front wall of your pussy, kisses your g-spot. you twitch, nerves on fire, your bones threatening to rattle out of your skin. “please, jack - ooh fuh… ck - ‘m so close. it feels so good, just wanna cum, please let me cum.” he shushes you, low and authoritative. drops a string of kisses up the slope of your neck until he reaches your ear lobe where he rolls the fat between his teeth. kicks his hips forward to sheath his cock inside of you to the hilt, groaning at the silken squish of your gummy walls as you tremble around him. pets a hand over the soft swell of your lower belly, right over where he’s seated inside you, and murmurs, “sh, there’s no need to rush. we’ve got plenty of time, sweetheart. let me make you feel good.” his jaw rubs against your cheek affectionately, his stubble coarse and electrifying on your skin. “besides, i wanna see how messy you can get.”

mating press | andrew pope cody fucks you close and intimate. deep and desperate as he folds you in half so far your tits nearly touch your knees, your ankles dangling around his shoulders as your feet bounce with the short, heavy momentum of his thrusts. keeps you pinned open and vulnerable with his biceps as a low throated curse of your name escapes his slack mouth, your sopping pussy spread wide around the fat girth of his cock. the blunt head scrapes over sensitive walls, grinding deep to massage your cervix. every time his pelvis slaps into your throbbing clit, you sob, toes flexing and tears gathering along your lash line as a tsunami of pleasure crashes over you in pulsing waves of heat that fizz and pop across your skin like champagne. “yeah,” he breathes, “that’s it, just like that.” sweat gathers, baby hairs sticking to your forehead as every in-stroke punches little moans out of you. “s’full,” you slur, eyes glazed and pupils blown, cock drunk and drooling. “a-andy, please…” you’re so full you can barely breathe, lower belly bulging with the push-pull of his cock. he refuses to pull out too far, keeps himself buried nice and snug inside you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. “just a lil more…” he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, smothering his pants and groans. damp curls tickle your ear as lips kiss up and down the slope of your shoulder, hot and messy. a flicker of tongue and a hint of teeth. you arch into the crush of his chest, nipples pebbled and dragging over his pecs. the forearms he wrapped around your back flex, the hands anchored on your ass tightening. the plush fat spills between his kneading fingers, and he uses his grip to guide you up to meet him thrust for thrust, grind for grind. keening, your hands squeeze his sides, nails digging into his ribs, the muscles rippling with the movement of his body. he pauses to feel the clutch of your walls, the wet squelch of your needy pussy as slick gushes out to soak his balls where they rest against your ass, “y’feel so - hhah - so good. i can’t… fuck, wanna cum inside. please let me.”

feedback is always appreciated

✶ pairing | andrew pope cody x f!reader, titus danforth x f!reader, jack abbot x f!reader ✶ word count | 728 ✶ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, praise kink, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, squirting, cum eating, spit, what it says on the tin tbh

masterlist | ao3 | inbox | requests, taglist, submissions: open

titus danforth eats you out wet and messy, the lower half of his face spit slick and soaked in cum. devours his way down your body until he reaches the apex between your thighs. a rough, rude brute with a nasty bite. he pulls and sucks on your clit until its swollen and raw, nips at your puffy lips while you whine and squirm. your body throbs with your heartbeat, a deep ache in your pelvis as he uses his arms to lock you in place, nails buried in the fat of your thighs to stop you from escaping as the stubble on his jaw chafes at tender skin. he loves when you beg, and especially when you cry. captures those precious, hiccuping breaths as you shove at his head fitfully with all the greed of a starving bloodhound. then, when he's finally decided you've had enough, he spits your cum into your mouth and forces you to swallow.

jack abbot eats you out like it's his sole mission because while you can take war out of the man the solider remains for life. and oh, he follows orders so, so well - "oh god, please" and "yeah, just… just like tha-t - oh fuck, jack! don't stop, please, don't stop." eager to please and knows his way around your body like it's the back of his hand, warming you up with trails of kisses along the length of your neck, mouthing at the rabbit fast flutter of your pulse until you whine. soft and tender as his hands trace the curves of your body; hefting the weight of your tits in his palms and thumbing over your nipples to hear your breathy little noises. working his mouth down, down, down in a path of blooming heat that sparks across your nerves, stomach swooping when he gropes at the swell of your hips, the thumbs caressing over the bone a promise. settles on his belly - smothering his low hiss into your skin when his hard cock drags over the fabric of your comforter - and parts your thighs with gentle fingers and soft lips. his voice a low rumble when he says, "c'mon, show me that pretty pussy, baby." his tongue swirls around your clit, fluttering the slick muscle in little circles that leaves you desperate and breathless. slips down to fuck into your entrance, the tip reaching inside as far as it can as he chases after the taste of your slick with an appreciative groan. he doesn't stop until you're boneless and dripping, the bed a mess of spit and squirt.

andrew pope cody eats you out desperately - as if you'll slip through his fingers like smoke if he doesn't grab hard enough, suck hard enough, make you cum hard enough that any thought of leaving disappears. he's ravenous, inches as close as possible. runs his nose over your skin, and inhales your scent with a low, wounded noise. traps you against the wall and yanks a thigh over the broad cap of his shoulder to get even deeper between your legs. mouths at the cloth covering your cunt until it's wet and sticky, clinging to your folds. meanwhile all you can do is hang on, shoulders digging into the wall and head tossed back. eyes squeezed shut, knees weak and doughy as his attention burns through you, gets you so slick and desperate you don't know what to do. "let me," he begs, gazing up the length of your body. fingers tug your ruined panties to the side, and then a soft kiss brushes over the warm, exposed skin of your mound. you jolt, hands shoot down to bury themselves in his hair. "please. want to taste you. i'll make it so good for you, lemme just - fuck… please." you crack open an eye and feel like you've been sucker punched. fuck, he looks so good on his knees. hair cling to his forehead, his briar of curls sweaty and disheveled. his lips are cherry red, swollen - glistening in the light like a prize. there's a darling blush that steals across the sweep of his cheekbones, and when he works his jaw side to side, you can't help but clench down on nothing. but what really does you in is the burning hunger in his eyes. ready to swallow you down, eat you alive; a dog with a bone. when you tug at his hair, he moans and wants you to do it harder, nails scraping over his scalp as he makes out with your pussy, flicking his tongue over the length of your slit and grinding his nose against your pretty little clit. and when he says, eyes glazed and mouth raw-bitten, slack, "smother me," who are you to refuse?

feedback is always appreciated

normal saddle horse

another normal saddle horse! they’re killin’ it!

and… ah… found the Friesian…

Based on reverse image search, these screencaps are from a show called Cursed, which is an Arthurian fantasy that takes place as late as the 11th century:

That’s a time period when Friesians actually were being ridden by knights, and even an English king:

The thing about the modern Friesian is that it is, in fact, modern. The breed characteristics we associate with it: solid black, minimal white, upright carriage, long flowing locks, baroque appearance, etc – were by and large developed circa the late 1800s (1879, to be exact), and the type was really calcified circa 1906-1907. While I wouldn’t necessarily recommend Wikipedia as your primary research point, it does provide an indicator that should make anyone’s eyebrows raise: “By the early 20th century, the number of available breeding stallions was down to three.” If you look at the the Friesian Horse Association of North America Website, it’ll tell you the name of the three stallions: Prins 109, Alva 113 and Friso 117.

As a pedigree nerd, the thing I found myself look at immediately was the available pedigree data, because a problem that plagues virtually all Western breeds as an artifact of Victorian-era breed codification practices is a limited founder pool and a relatively high level of consanguinity, owing to the fact that many traits that are stamped are done so through an increasing level of homozygosity. Prins and Friso are both paternal grandsons of the founder stallion Nemo 51. So, functionally – 2 sirelines.

Above: Frisio 117

Above: Prins 109

Above: Alva 113

Above: De Regent 32, sire of Alva 113

Above: Graf Adolf 21, damsire of Alva 113.

And they all pretty much funnel in through the stallion Paulus 151, dropping it down to a single sireline, because for whatever reason, Alva 113 failed to perpetuate his sireline. Friso 117 was the sire of Paulus 151 and Prins 109 was the damsire of Paulus 151. Paulus 151’s 2nd dam, Daisy, was also closely related to Alva 113.

Above: the stallion Paulus.

So, a genetic bottleneck in the late 1880s-1990s.

Also from the FHANA website:

1889: Radboud 67 became the last of only 5 brown Friesian stallions approved for the registry. The other four were David 11, Keizer 18, Minister Thorbecke 34 [one source includes Membrino] and Bruno 38.

1918: The studbook ended registration of brown Friesian mares.

A fascinating choice for a breed with an already extremely constricted genepool of sirelines as, if we choose to Ignore the fact that different colors are a form of genetic diversity in and of itself where we no longer have variation on the Agouti factor, this removed a significant % of the population of mares from the genepool, as well. Anyone with an exposure to the Friesian breed will also know that Friesians are not allowed to be Chestnut, which is similarly a fascinating choice because the Extension factor for chestnut is a recessive allele that requires both parents pass it on.

Take this really simple Punnett Square for the Extension.

Anytime you breed a Friesian with a copy of the recessive Extension factor (Ee) to another Friesian with a copy of the recessive Extension factor (Ee), you run a 25% chance of producing chestnut Friesian every mating. The only way to get rid of that is to completely eliminate that from the gene pool.

That’s also how they eliminated bay horses from the gene pool – so now every Friesian has two copies of the recessive Agouti factor (aa) and not one horse carries a dominant Agouti factor (AA or Aa).

The FHANA timeline also tells us this: they kicked another stallion horse out in 1935, named Cremer, because he threw too much white markings. Never mind that white spotting mutations are yet another form of genetic variation, never mind that they often spontaneously mutate and you will never be able to completely eliminate them because they will always be able to potentially recur.

The Friesian breed experienced a second genetic bottleneck in recent history in the 1960s, according to a 2007 paper by Marike Boer, who wrote on the genetics (and specifically the relationship between inbreeding and fertility) of the Friesian for her thesis. She was herself citing a 2004 paper that was studying the effects of inbreeding on mares and retained placentas during parturition. There are… oodles and sqoodles of papers on the lack of genetic diversity of the modern Friesian, and if you want to read some of them you can follow these links:

Genetic diversity in the dutch friesian horse

The Friesian horse breed: A clinical challenge to the equine veterinarian?

Evaluation of breeding strategies to reduce the inbreeding rate in the Friesian horse population: Looking back and moving forward

The Genomic Makeup of Nine Horse Populations Sampled in the Netherlands

The fact remains, the modern Friesian is not actually the Friesian of the early 1800s, or really even the last 1870s when the studbook was formally codified.

Dutch Friesian,“ in: M Czapski,“Atlas to the universal history of the horse,” Poznań 1876. Creator: Czapski Hutten, Marian (1816-1875). Date: 1876. Artwork mediumpen lithography; paper. [x]

Look at that white blaze and three white legs, including the high white on the nearside hind.

It would likely shock anyone with a passing familiarity with the breed to discover that this horse, Tello, (below) was a Friesian horse – back when the stubook also included the Warmblood types.

Sporthorsedata link, where the photos is sourced from.

Allbreedpedigree link, which calls him an Oldenburg (his sire is also a Friesian).

Check out Tello’s sire, Thor, and look at the white markings:

Check out Tello’s 2nd sire, Martin, who was “brown” aka a bay horse:

Not one of these stallions would be allowed in the modern Friesian studbook, because: a/ Tello is grey and b/ Thor has too much white and c/ Martin is bay, not black.

Some more East Friesian horses:

We can see that the modern Friesian also pulled very heavily from draught type horses – horses that were designed not for the saddle as a riding mount, but for pulling a plow or pulling a carriage. In the 1700s and the 1800s, trotting harness racing became quite popular, and so in addition to being used for carriage work and plowing the fields, they were bred for trotting in a harness. I did read a paper that indicated that they were raced for shorter distances, for example, 325 meters, and that as of 1979, it was believed that between 1800 and 1850 over 2,800 newspaper advertisements were printed to promote races, but I don’t know how accurate that really is.

What I can say, is that there’s been something of a reinvention of the Friesian as a saddle breed. A lot of people credit the 1980s film LAKYHAWKE for popularizing the Friesian as a medieval horse type, and it certainly did generate a lot of interest in the breed that has propelled it to 2025. Some of this movement toward the breed as a saddle horse is selective breeding, and some of that is also that the Friesian does naturally lend itself well to modern dressage because of the history of dressage as a riding discipline and the way it has been codified specifically for the benefit of the taproot of modern Warmbloods, which stem from similar roots as the Friesian breed: heavy draught types with an emphasis on trot action.

That said, if we look at historical photos that the taproot studbook stock was pulled from:

^ Held 140, foaled in 1928. (He was, by the way, the product of a full-sibling mating.

Photo: Het Friese Paard It Fryske Hynder. M.J. Barones can Heemstra & F.C.D. Popken.

Here’s a gallery of approved stallions, including older historical stallions.

This is such a textbook example of the way the codification of breeds takes what was fundamentally a regional landrace type of horse – that is, a heavy cart horse type that used to pull carriages and the plow from the Friesland region of the Dutch Netherlands – and turned it into a pedigreed breed with a registry. Dog people in particular will understand what I am talking about here. Here’s an essay from 2015 discussing the historicity of the Friesian horse vs the Frisian horse, and the way that the Friesian as we know and understand it is a modern invention. Page 10 begins discussion on a breed vs a landrace type.

The author of the 2015 essay cites a lot of papers I’ve also read, but I’ll just throw some highlights up. Claims that the modern Friesian is effectively the same as the Frisian horse the Romans rode are at a genetic level patently false, but it goes even further – at the phenotypical level, there’s not even remotely comparable.

“It may be of note that a horse’s mature height is affected by genetics, selection and environment 29 A combination of selective breeding and rich fodder would have affected the size of horses 30 As a result, withers height in horses varied from one location to another Horses found in terp sites were small, but Roman finds in the Netherlands and Germany, particularly in romanised areas, often exceeded a withers height of 140 or even up to 150 cm in the Mid Roman Period 31 It would have been rare for a horse in Europe to have a height at the withers exceeding 150 cm during the Roman Period and Early Middle Ages.”

You can read the book author J Savelkouls is citing on Jstor, the book of which which at this time is open access – Animals in Ritual and Economy in a Roman Frontier Community: Excavations in Tiel-Passewaaij by Maaike Groot.

For a frame of reference: 140cm is roughly 13.3hh, and 150cm is roughly 14.3hh. Large pony size to very small horse size.

If we look at the FHANA website and their breed inspection requirements, we see the following: Stallions are required to be a minimum of 1.58m (15.2 1/4hh) as 3 year old and a minimum of 1.60m (15.3hh) as a 4 year old or older. Mares for all registration types are required to be taller than 1.54m (15hh). Geldings are required to be 1.56m (15hh) for the studbook and 1.58m (15.2 1/4hh) for the Ster (a registration predicate which is like… gold-star above average registration.)

The Friesian Horse Society registration criterion also offers these height requirements: Mares must be at least 1.54 meters (15.0 ¾ hands) at the withers; Geldings must be at least 1.56 meters (15.1½ hands); Stallions must be at least 1.58 meters (15.2¼ hands) at age 3 and at least 1.60 meters (15.3 hands) at age 4.

Behold, the Bayeux tapestry and William the Conqueror riding a Friesian. That’s definitely a Friesian. We know this for sure for real. Because the Friesian studbook, founded in 1879, certainly existed in circa the 1070s CE.

It just makes me laugh when people say, “oh, medieval knights rode Friesians” when no, we don’t actually know that, and no, they likely did not, because the Friesian as we know it literally did not exist. The evidence cited fundamentally boils down to “horses that look like Friesians” which is by definition a landrace type rather than a codified breed, and certainly wouldn’t have been the sole purview of the Friesland – after all, those genetics do come from somewhere.

This is the same level of evidence we see presented by proponents of the Straight Egyptian Arabian who look at horses from Ancient Egyptian artwork, see a landrace type with commonalities, and proclaim their horses an ancient breed, the daughters and sons of the pharaohs, which completely ignores the actual history of the breed as codified by Arabs and the specifically the Bedouins AND also ignores that the Straight Egyptian taproot genetics stem from Abbas Pasha’s collection, which he specifically pulled from the Bedouin tribes of the deserts.

But if that’s a comparison the Roman era, the medieval period, what if we go a little further ahead in time to the 1600s.

The Friesian horse. Origin: Netherlands. Date: 1652. Creator, Paulus Potter, mentioned on object, print maker, Noord-Nederlands (1625–1654). Artwork medium etching (paper). [x]

Ah, another heavy grey daught type, like Tello.

And what of John of Austria’s Frisian horse?

As a stallion, with a star? He wouldn’t even be allowed in the modern Friesian studbook.

I’ve actually run out of my limit for photos, so I am going to post this and then reblog with more historical photos and artwork of the Friesian horse.

Above: That last photo really shows the trot action that’s designed for a roadster type of horse.

Above: Hearke 254 Preferent and his son Reitse 272 Preferent

Some stallions – they’re built long, with high, steep croups and laid back shoulders for pulling into the harness with a powerful rear push.

And should anyone like to take a gander, this book (The Oldenburg Horse By J. Schuessler, 1914) has a decent overview of the difference between the East Friesian (really.. just… Friesian) and the Oldenburg warmblood. Starts on page 45, the chapter entitled: ”7. The Oldenburg Horse in the Neighbouring Breeding Districts of Bremen and East Friesland, in the Army and Abroad.“

I’m going to reference the medieval war horse again, because the Arthurian legend era is set circa the 5th and 6th centuries CE in England (well, specifically Wales, but the geographic region is close enough that their horsestock from the concurrent time periods were likely roughly analogous) – so, around 400-500 CE. There’s a paper from 2021 entitled In search of the ‘great horse’: A zooarchaeological assessment of horses from England (AD 300–1650) which looks specifically a medieval English warhorses, which examines archeaological evidence of horses throughout the time period referenced. They include a really nice graph on sizing:

And for the Arthurian era, specifically, which falls in the time periods defined as the Late Roman (300–410 AD) and Early Saxon (410–700 AD) periods:

As you can see, anything over 15hh, which is roughly the minimum studbook height requirement for a modern Friesian horse, was really unusual in the Late Roman period and has not been discovered in the Early Saxon period. Much more commonly seen were horses between ~11h and ~14hh, aka, pony and very small horse heights.

Friesian horses are, on the whole, too tall for a medieval Arthurian time period on the British Isles. So, alas, no, this horse doesn’t get a pass for the type of film and type of story it is presented in.

The larger point being made is, the type of horse the modern Friesian presents as is by and large a carriage horse from the late 1800s and into the 1900s, and you could probably go find a random vaguely draughty grade horse in a field that has been bred for saddle riding and get a more historically accurate type of horse for medieval England or Wales than you ever could with a modern Friesian.

The other problem, which is an even larger point of gesticulating toward Friesian horses in media, is that the trapping historical films have rarely been about historical accuracy or utilitarian practicality, and typically try to present a fantastical retelling. Friesians look cool. They’re tall and upright and hairy with long, flowing, wavy manes and tails, and they’re generally very visually distinct from other horses. it’s such an easy shorthand in film to put someone on a Friesian horse as a way to visually signify that this is someone important that you should pay attention to – they did this, for ex, in the first Gal Gadot Wonder Woman film where inexplicably, WW was riding a Friesian while everyone else had some generic cob type. This is also why we see Ciri in the trailers for The Witcher 4 riding a Friesian type named Kelpie: our super special protagonist on her super special horse.

Fantasy in general (and to some extent, a lot of historical fiction is, really, fantastical) has latched onto the imagery of a Friesian type of horse as special. I see it all the time in books, as well.

The less we care about historical accuracy, the less important it is. If it’s all about vibes, sure. This is why I’m fine with Galavant’s war horse being a Friesian, because the whole point of the show is that it’s a deeply unserious piece of media. And this is why the more ~realistic~ a piece of historical fiction tries to be, the more I will scrutinize it.

@pourpasserlamelancholie thank you for my life, actually. in my migraine-induced fugue state, i forgot reverse google image search existed. Including a link to your source. Wildly enough, some scholars actually believe Schout’s horse is an Andalusian from Spain. The source for this claim appears to be in S. G. A. van Leeuwen’s PhD dissertion, “Geschiedenis der Nederlandsche Paarden fokkerij in Nederland” published in 1922 circa page 70-72.