#cause he can’t just leave him or the world like this

[gojosprettyprincess]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ CEO KENTO FUCKING HIS WIFE

Tw- reader is his secretary n wife!!! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ not proofread :p

Thinking about CEO Nanami fucking his hot ribbons of cum further into his secretary wife’s cunt. :3 Your upper half is craning over his polished work desk and your limbs are shaking and strained from being crammed in the same position for so fucking long.

Your once well-ironed pencil skirt is now bunched up around your waist and the pristine buttons of your white blouse struggle to contain the ripe swell of your breasts that's smushed and spilling out onto his important documents— exposing all the purple hickeys and love marks that he imprinted on you earlier for the whole world to see.

His once orderly combed golden blonde hair is now in disarray, matted with damped sweat and his bangs fell across his hazel eyes, hindering his vision as he struggled to keep up his vigorous pace— he teetered on the verge of losing his mind as he feverishly gazed down at the sight of his creamy pool of cum threatening to spill from your stretched-out hole.

Streams of his milky sperm are trailing down your tender thighs, glistening under the ambient light and pooling on the sleek marble floor. As his swollen cockhead nudges the remnants of his release deeper into the depths of your womb and stroking your overstimulated walls to the verge of tears.

You let out a high-pitched whine in response to the overwhelming overstimulation following your blissful and toe-curling orgasm just from a minute ago.

You desperately tried to wiggle your hips to detach yourself from his toned pelvis in an attempt to break free from his harsh hold which only earned you a burly groan from the blonde because of your sudden movements making his sensitive shaft drowning deeper into the tight depths of your drooling cunny. And it was obviously no use because of his unyielding grip on the sides of your ass cheeks that was leaving you trapped in his powerful grasp.

“Kennn…sir! What if someone sees—“You fussed worriedly, your heart racing as you quickly realized the precariousness of the situation. Anyone could open the door at any moment and witness their usually dignified and honorable boss entangled in such a disheveled and scandalous scene— his slacks shamelessly pulled down his ankles while he was slamming his hefty shaft and stretching out his wife's pretty cunt like a possessed madman. He’s like a whole different person this way.

You're seemingly trying your best to hold onto the desk for dear life as he frantically pounds your aching cunt with an intense rhythm, causing your tummy to press hard against the unforgiving surface and making it a challenge to keep your balance and remain upright because of how sore you are.

“Then I’ll fucking fire them, no one is stopping me from breeding my wife’s pretty pussy.” he babbled stupidly. “Can’t wait to have cute little blonde babies with your gorgeous eyes running around, darling”. His voice dripped with possessiveness and was raw with desire as he eagerly expressed his anticipation for starting a family with you. :(

You immediately whimpered at his intriguing words, your body betrays you and somehow you don’t even give a fuck about anyone seeing when you were arching your back deeper against him and pressing your chest further into the cool surface of the desk as you took the rest of his relentless pounding.

The sensation of his heavy balls rubbing against your puffy clit with each forceful thrust was practically sending you spiraling into another orgasm. He leaned over you— pressing his weight into your supple form, showering your back with a trail of fervent kisses. “You’re mine, all mine” he declared with a deep growl, his breath quickening as his throbbing cock pulsated against your slick, tight walls.

And then when you’re approaching your next orgasm, he’s babbling a bunch of shit you never even expected to hear escaping from Kento's lips. Telling you “cum for me again sweetheart, let everyone hear how fucking slutty my sweet submissive wife is”.

You made a split-second decision to glance over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of how fucked out and messy Kento looked with his tie askew, his chiseled face flushed, and beads of sweat glistening everywhere. Maybe your husband is losing his mind after all.

[hellokittywerewolf]

did everyone forget about dragon rot? every time sekiro dies (lets be honest is alot) everyone around him has basically turbo cancer slowly killing them until the player remembers to keep everyone alive for the good ending so they end up curing everyone at the end of the game

i’d say the lands between is the best choice. i mean theres literally a dude who just sells prawns, nothing else! sure he get murdered but that’s because he moved, id be upset to if my favourite restaurant changed location. in dark souls you are forced to have the dark signs, no escaping that, but in elden ring you technically have the ability to die (eventually, it is destined after all) and it seems to have been repeating the shortest so very few humans are insane actually so that means its unlikely to die un unnatural causes!

if we are allowing us to live in the world, just different locations then bloodborne would ironically be one of the safest (aside from sekiro but they have big wars). outside of england yharnam seems to be relatively safe, people are well aware of the problems happening in yharnam but the scourge hasnt gone global yet(it gets defeated at the end). the thing about lovecraftian horror is its always centralized on one specific area. just be too stupid and avoid learning about the beasts you will be relatively safe.

all other games are already full of the undead/bearer of the curse. its long since the age of fire and you are now forced to live endlessly dying over and over with no real purpose in life but to ring some stupid bells, if you can keep the will to live to do so. sometimes some hollows can stay conscious like the hollow merchants but once you lose focus on your goals you’re usually long gone.

even if you managed to survive until the MC finishes the game, you never stop the cycle, its constantly repeating so its lighting a candle after its all burnt out expecting it to produce a flame.

overall bloodborne is probably the safest if you’re allowed to live outside yharnam, sekiro is second if you are fine living in feudal japan with active wars, but the lands between is best if you can’t leave, since atleast by the end of the game death is guaranteed and its unlikely to die unnaturally.

edit: i just saw it said during OR post game, unless you care about it being japan specifically id say bloodborne or elden ring (both of which have had its main reason being to leave dealt with, such as the beasts or the lack of death)

actually. curious now, what like. which fromsoft ip would be like the best setting to live in? has to be like during or post game, cant be like "id live in ___ before all the bad shit happened"

[em1989ts]

𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞

five hargreeves x reader smut

word count: 1.9k

warnings: enemies to lovers smut 18+, five and reader are 20, kinda switch! five? idek, choking, fingering, unprotected piv

summary: you and five return to elliot's after a failed attempt at reaching reginald at the mexican consulate, leading to a fight that leads to a little more...

author's note: i need to come up with some new stuff cause pretty much every single fic has the same dynamics but i just love it so much i can't stop lol, also i'm still working on a request but it made me think of this so i got a little distracted lol

not proofread

“It’s your fault he got away in the first place.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

You and Five, your bothersome partner at the time traveling agency known as The Commision, were making your way up the stairs back up to Elliot’s place. 

After failing to save the world back in 2019, Five managed to muster up enough energy to time travel with you and his siblings to get you all out of danger. He ended up dropping you and his family off at different points in time between 1960 and 1963 in Dallas, Texas. 

You had only gotten here two days before he did, staying in Elliot’s giant home and sifting through his enormous collection of conspiracies. It was you who accidentally planted that alien idea in his head when he watched you use your power. Whoops. 

“You were the one who got all soft on seeing your daddy again that you gave up our hiding spot and made him run off,” you retorted. 

You made your way over to the door before Five blinked inside without you. Hearing his footsteps walk away, you sighed and pulled the key you had borrowed out of your pocket and opened the door. Five blinked the two of you a majority of the way here, as far as his energy could take you, leaving Diego and Lila behind to walk all the way here. 

“And we could’ve caught up with him if you would just hold your own,” he scoffed, already having poured himself a cup of coffee and heading into Elliot’s living room. 

“You think I can’t hold my own? How many goddamn times have I saved your ass while you were getting beat down, Five?”

You were getting even more pissed, raising your voice now as you walked over to him angrily. 

“Not to mention you only had to deal with one of those assholes while I had to fight two! In heels! And even after you tossed your guy out the window, you just blinked off! Some partner you are.” 

You pushed him a little as you emphasized your words. Of course, he was a good partner when it mattered, he did save your life after Vanya blew up the moon after all. But it sure seemed like he didn’t care about you at all in moments like this. 

He almost lost your balance when you put your hands on him, spilling his coffee over the side of the mug. Setting it down, he turned to you with an angry glare and shoved you back. 

“Well don’t go thinking you can fight me now, Y/N,” he said, almost daring, “Because trust me, you won’t win-” 

As he was finishing his sentence you took a fast swing to the side of his face, before he caught it and blinked you both into the small guest room that Elliot lended you both. 

He twisted your arm back and threw you forward onto the wooden floor. The room was dim except for a warm tiffany lamp on the bedside table. The air was clear and warm due to the open window, letting in the sounds of Dallas nightlife. 

You landed rough on your hands and knees. Maybe you shouldn’t have picked another fight considering you were still sore from earlier, but you weren’t going to back down now. 

After looking up at him for a moment, all smug yet still awaiting your next move, you quickly got up and tackled him, thinking it’d be easier on you to take this fight down to the ground. 

Five braced himself from your impact and blinked, not wanting to hit the hard floor, and you both landed onto the guest bed. The anger in your eyes never left as you landed a punch right on his cheek, your might distracting you from your new position. 

Before you could pull your arm back to hit him a second time, he wrapped his fingers around your forearm and used his other hand to grab you by the throat. 

A whimper left you as he tightened his grip, cutting off your airway. Bringing up your other hand, you tried to peel his fingers off your neck. Yet he didn’t let up, his fingers getting tighter and tighter, waiting for you to tap out. 

You inevitably did, your muscles way too tired to fight this stupid battle, as you tapped your hand on his wrist to get him to release you. 

When he let go, you brought your hand to your neck, massaging where his harsh grip once was as you caught your breath quickly. 

You hadn’t fully taken in your position, but Five sure had. 

He watched you as you laid on top of him, crading him, sitting just where he wanted you to. 

You looked dazed, all red in the face, hair a little messed up, chest raising as you panted heavily, his hormones had been driving him insane ever since the two of you traveled back and landed in your 20 year old bodies. 

It took you another moment to get the blood flowing through your brain again, but once it did, it acknowledged how you were sitting on top of him, pressing against a growing bulge in the front of his dress pants. 

Your breathing slowed more as you looked down to where your crotch met his before meeting his eyes. He stared at you with nothing more than lust darkening his irises and a flush on his cheeks. 

A smile crept on your face as you looked at him beneath you, eyeing his lips slightly before leaning forward, lowering yourself and meeting them with yours. 

His lips moved with yours perfectly as he pushed further into the kiss. He was about to move his hands to entangle them in your hair, but you had taken them in your hand and brought them up over his head.  

The kiss was definitely messy. Tongues clashing and lip biting, you were surprised neither of you drew a little blood. 

You felt him trying to assert dominance in your mouth as you fought right back, his hands remained held together until suddenly he blinked free. 

You landed on the bed, confused for a moment until you saw a blue flash in the corner of your eye. His hands landed on your shoulders, strongly flipping you onto your back, maneuvering himself to be in between your open legs, and immediately latching onto your neck, causing you to let out a gasp at the sensation. 

Instead of holding them above your head, he grasped both your hands in one of his and held them to your chest, reaching down under your pleated sixties skirt, feeling you through your underwear. 

“A little fight gets you this wet?” he teased softly as he nipped at your neck. 

You bit your lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting any more noises out of you. The fact that you were this wet for him was already bruising your ego.

He peeked up to see the look on your face, admiring the struggle he was putting you through as he slowly rubbed your slit through your panties while sucking harsh marks into your neck. 

He moved the damp fabric to the side, coating his fingers in your slick, before stuffing them into you. The little gasp you let out satisfied him but not to the extent to which he would’ve liked, so he kept at it, moving his fingers through you, reaching that deep spot that made your eyes roll back in pleasure. 

Once he picked up the pace, he could tell it was getting harder for you to keep quiet, with the tiniest of whimpers leaving your lips. The palm of his hand met your clit as the pressure became too much. You turned your head into the soft pillow which your head laid upon to stifle your noises. 

He didn’t like this however, as he let go of your hands in front of your chest and grasped your chin instead, squeezing your cheeks slightly to keep your mouth open. 

At this point it was no use. The pressure built up inside you as he planted kisses on your neck, with little teases of encouragement, telling you you let go, which you did. 

Moans, pleading, and chants of curses spilled from your open mouth as the growing pleasure finally gave in, letting you come hard all over his fingers. 

He let you ride out your high slightly as he admired your face. The usual stern and angry look you usually addressed to him was long gone, now replaced with a dazy, flushed look with dilated pupils as wide as saucers. 

He removed his fingers slowly, before flipping up your skirt and pulling your underwear off entirely, before unzipping his pants and pausing before he lowered his own underwear. 

Leaning back down to kiss you softly, he made sure you were okay with continuing. Once he received your quick, eager nod, he finally released himself after being restrained against his tightening boxers for so long. 

As he leaned over you, you observed him closely. His dark hair now messy, his usually cold green eyes now softened, you’ve never seen Five look so not put together but you loved it. 

Him sliding inside you broke you out of your thoughts. He fell into the crook of your neck once again as he groaned at the feeling of your walls surrounding him, your warmth was too much. Your head dipped back, almost hitting the headboard as you didn’t even bother stopping yourself from letting out whimpers every time he hit that spot. He quickly rutted into you as you both didn’t want to waste any time before getting to that high that your hormonal bodies have been craving ever since your consciousnesses had been thrown into them in 2019. 

Although the two of you weren’t that rough, you could still hear the headboard knocking into the wall every time he thrusted into you, but your mind felt mushy with the pleasure and couldn’t come up with the words to say anything. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you were panting each other's names and you felt the pressure built up again. You came loudly, squeezing him before he came too, pumping himself into you at a slowing pace before he stilled. 

The two of you were wrapped up in each other, panting into each other's faces, gasping as he pulled out slowly. 

You both quickly cleaned up and fixed your disheveled clothing, not making eye contact just yet, not knowing what this meant between you. 

Five ventured outside the room first, you were worried that maybe Diego or Lila overheard and were going to endlessly tease you both over the fact that the tension between you finally snapped. 

But instead, you heard your new acquaintance/host awkwardly question Five about alien procreation. 

~~~

[rangersoup]

WIP Wednesday

It's 2:00AM and that means its Wednesday! Which means it's WIP WEDNESDAY!! and i am unreasonably excited. So im kicking us off bright (or dark technically cause the suns not even up yet) and early! im screaming cause i can't decide what part of this fic i want to post today but anyway! here's a bit of my current wip that's occupying ALL of my brain!

TK nearly jumps out of his skin as a hand touches his shoulders. He was so deep in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard anyone come into the hospital room. He whips his head around and finds himself looking up at his dad. He’s here. He finally made it. He's finally here. “Dad?” he chokes. He almost doesn’t believe it. The last thing he knew was that his dad was making a hail mary drive south of New York to find an air port that could actually get a flight out. He didn’t expect him to be here so soon. “I’m here, son,” Owen says quietly, and TK doesn’t give him time to say anything else before standing up so quickly he almost knocks his chair over and flings himself into his dad’s arms. He’s crying before his mind can even catch up with what’s happening. “I’m here,” his dad repeats, wrapping his arms around him and cradles his head. “I’m here.” “They don’t think he’s going to wake up,” TK sobs into his shoulder. “Ssshhh,” Owen whispers into the top of his head and rocks him as they stand there at Carlos’s bedside. “Everything’s going to be okay.” TK wants to believe him, he wishes with all of his might that he could force himself to believe him, but its bad. It’s so, so, so bad. “I was back there with him.” His dad squeezes him a little tighter, and he feels like a child again, tucked somewhere safe and secure, somewhere where the world seems less scary, somewhere where everything might just be okay… but not quite. Not quite. The only place on the entire planet that really truely feels like that is in Carlos’s arms, the one place he can’t be right now. “I got here as fast I could.” “I know,” TK says, swallowing and finally pulling away from his dad’s warm embrace. We wipes the tears away and steps back, ducking his head. “What happened?” TK shakes his head. “They were serving a warrant and ended up in a shoot out. He got hit. That’s really all I know, other than…” he trails off, glancing over at Carlos. “Other than what happened after.” “What happened in the ambulance, you mean?” Owen prompts, his lips pursed as he looks TK over with pitying eyes. TK nods. “I– Dad I can’t get it out of my head.” He’s crying again. “Come here,” his dad says gently, and pulls him into another hug. He knows he understands, he understands the horrors, the helplessness, the inability to purge every horrifying image from his mind. He’s been the back of an ambulance with TK more times than any father should ever have to. “What do you need?” TK shakes his head, driving it against his chest as his shoulder shake, he can’t get them to stop shaking. He can’t stop crying. He needs a million things. He wants to let the words come pouring out, he wants to spill everything pent up inside of him, but only one thing makes out. It’s broken and hoarse as it leaves his lips. “Carlos.” he needs Carlos.

Tags under the cut!

@lonestardust @futures-tense @annoyingcloudearthquake @nisbanisba @lemonlyman-dotcom @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @welcometololaland @emsprovisions @paperstorm @captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @henrygrass @ccgrizzy @thisbuildinghasfeelings @lightningboltreader @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @eclectic-sassycoweyes @giuhina @happilylovingchaos

and @my-beloved-lakes, I know you're writing now, so i am calling you out specifically. This tag list is a no pressure tag list for everyone except you. Lots of pressure for you! Your bitch ass better post something! im allowed to call her out like this. she's my sister.

And open tagging anyone else that wants to participate!

I may have gotten a little over excited about this one. I really really really can't wait to start posting it, but i want to be way farther along with it before i do. As is 10k words isn't "far enough along"

[wonyqt]

kinda cute read!? little argument. happy ending! <3

—

jungkook’s family has always been welcoming, treating you like one of their own from the moment you and jungkook started dating. so when his mom invites you to a family dinner, you don’t think much of it—just another warm, comfortable evening spent with the jeons. except, this time, the kim family is joining. and with them, their daughter, yuseo.

you’ve heard about her before, in passing. a childhood friend of jungkook’s, someone his family adores. you never had a reason to think much of her. that is, until tonight.

jungkook is seated between you and yuseo at the dinner table, his hand resting on your thigh under the table as he leans in to whisper things only you can hear. sweet things. his attention is fully on you, making you feel secure, wanted—like you’re the only one in the room. but that security starts to falter when yuseo keeps trying to insert herself into the conversation, laughing a little too hard at jungkook’s jokes, touching his arm every chance she gets.

“jungkook, do you remember when we used to walk home from school together?” yuseo chimes in, tilting her head as she looks at him.

jungkook glances at her, nodding. “yeah, we were kids.”

“and we had the biggest crushes on each other,” she adds, giggling. “we even dated for a little bit, remember?”

your stomach churns at her words, at the way she looks at him like you aren’t sitting right there. like she’s trying to remind him of something you have no part in. jungkook only hums in response, not giving it much thought, but that doesn’t stop the way irritation builds in your chest.

and then she does it. she reaches out, fingers brushing through jungkook’s hair thats touching his forehead , pushing them out of his face like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he doesn’t react—doesn’t move away, doesn’t stop her. it’s innocent, at least to him, but to you, it’s anything but.

your grip on your fork tightens, but you keep your expression neutral, not wanting to cause a scene in front of his parents. still, the heat in your chest is undeniable, and the smirk tugging at yuseo’s lips lets you know she’s fully aware of what she’s doing.

when dinner is finally over, you can’t wait to leave, but jungkook is still taking his time saying goodbye. you watch as yuseo steps closer to him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug that lingers a little too long. her hands rest on his lower back, fingers pressing lightly as she whispers something into his ear, her lips nearly grazing his skin.

jungkook, completely oblivious, simply pats her back before pulling away, flashing her an easy smile. “it was nice seeing you, yuseo.”

you, on the other hand, are fuming.

the car ride home is silent. you don’t say a word, staring out the window with your arms crossed, jaw clenched. jungkook, on the other hand, is completely relaxed, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his lap like nothing happened. like yuseo hadn’t been all over him all night. like you hadn’t just sat there and taken it because you didn’t want to make a scene in front of his family.

when you finally get home, you kick off your shoes and go straight to the couch, plopping down with a heavy sigh. jungkook follows behind, watching you carefully.

“you okay?” he asks, tilting his head.

“mhm,” you hum, not even sparing him a glance.

he narrows his eyes. “you sure?”

“yup.”

jungkook sighs and sits next to you, draping an arm over the back of the couch. “alright, what’s wrong?”

you huff, crossing your arms tighter. “what’s wrong?” you repeat, turning to face him. “yuseo was flirting with you all night, and you just sat there and let her.”

jungkook blinks, clearly caught off guard. “flirting? what are you talking about?”

you scoff. “are you serious? she was all over you, jungkook. laughing at everything you said, touching you, bringing up how you two used to date—”

“she was just being friendly,” he cuts in, shaking his head.

you let out a bitter laugh, staring at him in disbelief. “oh, friendly? so you just let anyone push your hair out of your face? let anyone whisper in your ear like that? reminisce about how they used to date you while your girlfriend is sitting right there?”

jungkook’s jaw tenses, his relaxed demeanor shifting. “y/n, come on. it wasn’t like that. yuseo is just a friend, she wouldn’t—”

“oh, she wouldn’t?” you interrupt, voice rising. “jungkook, she was being so obvious, and you did nothing about it. you just sat there and let her act like that right in front of me.”

jungkook exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “you’re being dramatic,” he mutters.

your mouth falls open, anger bubbling over. “dramatic?” you repeat, tone sharp. “you think i’m being dramatic because i don’t like watching another girl throw herself at my boyfriend while he acts like it’s nothing?”

“because it was nothing,” jungkook argues, his own frustration growing. “i wasn’t flirting with her, i wasn’t even paying attention to her half the time. you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

you shake your head, standing up from the couch, the heat in your chest making it impossible to sit still. “forget it,” you mumble, walking away, leaving jungkook sitting there, running a hand down his face in exasperation.

you storm into your shared bedroom, your heart pounding in your chest. you don’t even know why you came in here—you just needed to get away from him, from the argument, from the way he’s making you feel like you’re crazy for being upset.

but jungkook isn’t done. he follows after you, shutting the door behind him with a frustrated sigh. “y/n, seriously, why are you acting like this?” he asks, his tone edged with irritation. “it’s like you’re just looking for something to be mad about.”

you spin around, glaring at him. “are you even listening to me? i’m not looking for something to be mad about, jungkook. i’m mad because you let another girl put her hands on you and talk about your past relationship with her like i wasn’t even there.”

jungkook lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “and what? you think that means something? you think i want her?”

“i don’t know, do you?” you snap.

his jaw clenches, and he exhales harshly, clearly trying to keep his own temper in check. “y/n, you’re acting like you don’t trust me.”

“this isn’t about trust, jungkook. this is about respect.”

he scoffs, rubbing a hand down his face. “or maybe it’s about you being insecure.”

the second the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. but it’s too late.

your face drops, the fire in your eyes flickering out into something much softer, much more painful. it’s like the fight drains out of you in an instant, replaced by an ache so deep you can’t even breathe.

“insecure?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

jungkook’s expression changes in an instant, his frustration melting away into something that looks a lot like regret. “baby, wait, i—”

but you just shake your head, blinking rapidly as your eyes begin to gloss over. “you think i’m insecure just because i don’t like seeing another girl flirt with my boyfriend?”

“no, that’s not—”

“forget it,” you mumble, pushing past him toward the door.

he reaches for you, but you step out of his grasp, grabbing your keys from the dresser. “y/n, wait—”

“don’t follow me,” you say, your voice quiet but firm. “i just… i need to be alone.”

and before he can say another word, you walk out, leaving jungkook standing there, his chest tight with regret as the sound of the door closing behind you echoes through the apartment.

it’s past 2 a.m. when you finally stumble through the front door, the world around you spinning. your fingers fumble with the doorknob, your blurry vision making it almost impossible to get the key in. you never do this—never drink to the point of losing yourself—but tonight was different. this was the worst fight you and jungkook have ever had. you couldn’t sit with the weight of it, so you drowned it in alcohol instead.

as soon as the door creaks open, you see him. jungkook is on the couch, still awake, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together like he’s been sitting there for hours. waiting.

his head snaps up the second you step inside, and in an instant, he’s on his feet, coming straight toward you. “where the hell have you been?” his voice is laced with worry, his brows furrowed as he takes in your disheveled state.

you roll your eyes, still feeling spiteful despite the alcohol coursing through your veins. “none of your business,” you mumble, trying to brush past him.

but jungkook doesn’t let you. his hands come up, gently but firmly gripping your arms to steady you. his brows knit together, his eyes scanning your face. “have you been drinking?” he asks, his voice softer now, but filled with concern.

you blink up at him, and suddenly, everything crashes down on you at once. the fight, the anger, the hurt, the words you both said to each other. the way he called you insecure. the way you left.

your bottom lip trembles, and before you can stop it, a sob breaks past your lips. “jungkook…” you hiccup, clutching onto his shirt as your knees nearly give out. “i’m sorry.”

his arms wrap around you instantly, holding you up as you bury your face into his chest. “hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispers, his voice gentle as he rubs slow circles into your back.

you shake your head, gripping onto him tighter. “no, it’s not,” you slur, sniffling. “you were right. i was being dramatic. i was being insecure, and i—”

“stop,” jungkook says firmly, pulling back just enough to look at you. his hands cup your face, thumbs wiping away the tears streaming down your cheeks. “don’t say that.”

you look up at him, confused, your vision still hazy. “but—”

“you were right,” he says, his voice thick with guilt. “y/n, you were right to be mad. you were right to feel the way you did. i should’ve shut that shit down. i should’ve listened to you instead of dismissing your feelings.” he shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “and i should’ve never called you insecure. i didn’t mean it. i swear i didn’t. i was just frustrated and being a fucking idiot.”

more tears fall down your face, and jungkook wipes them away as fast as they come, his own eyes glassy with regret.

“i’m so, so sorry,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. “please don’t ever think you need to apologize for feeling the way you did. you’re valid, baby. always.”

you sniffle, your body still shaking, but you nod against him, letting him hold you, letting his warmth ground you.

“can we go to bed?” you mumble weakly, exhausted in every possible way.

“of course,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “let’s get you ready for bed, love.”

as jungkook helps you into the bedroom, your steps are wobbly, but his hands are steady. he holds you close, guiding you with so much care that it makes your chest tighten.

once inside, you stop and look up at him, your fingers weakly gripping the fabric of his shirt. “are you sure?” you whisper, your voice small.

jungkook furrows his brows. “about what, baby?”

“that i was right,” you mumble, eyes glossy as you search his face. “that i wasn’t just… being dramatic.”

his expression softens instantly, and he cups your cheeks again, tilting your head up so you have no choice but to look at him. “yes, i’m sure,” he says firmly. “y/n, you were right. i should’ve listened to you the first time. i should’ve seen what was happening and done something about it.” his thumb strokes your cheek gently. “i hate that i made you feel like your feelings weren’t valid. i hate that i hurt you. i’m so sorry, baby.”

your lip trembles again, but this time, it’s not from sadness—it’s from relief. you nod, and without another word, you lean in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against his lips.

jungkook exhales into the kiss, his hands holding you like you’re something fragile, something he never wants to break again. he kisses you back just as softly, just as tenderly, letting the moment stretch until you finally pull away, your forehead resting against his.

“let’s get you ready for bed, yeah?” he murmurs.

you nod, letting him guide you to the bathroom. he sits you down on the counter, grabbing a makeup wipe before carefully running it over your face. his touch is gentle, like he’s trying to make up for everything with each soft stroke.

“you don’t have to do this,” you mumble, your eyes fluttering shut as he removes the last of your mascara.

“i want to,” he whispers.

once he’s finished, he helps you change into something comfortable before leading you to bed. the second you both lay down, you curl into his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you impossibly close.

the room is quiet, just the sound of your breathing and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. then, in a soft whisper, jungkook speaks.

“i love you.”

a small, tired smile tugs at your lips. “i love you too.”

and with that, you let sleep take you, safe in the warmth of his arms, knowing that no matter how bad things get, you’ll always find your way back to each other.

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

•°. *࿐ mingyu

◦ words: pavement, thirsty, and seem (>600 words)

tw: i use italics like it's free and it is playlist: four (deluxe) album by one direction thank you for betaing, ally bear <3 @lovetaroandtaemin

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜

“The pavement isn’t as thirsty as you make it seem.”

The sound of pouring liquid continued even more aggressively.

“Okay, so you are not going to explain this insanity?” A boy rocking on his feet lazily drawled. His slightly questioning face, tinted with hints of disgust and curiosity, would have looked like constipation on anyone else's face. But, as the boy kept on reminding people, he was Kim Mingyu, and there was only one of him.

“Oh, you would know everything about insanity, wouldn't you?” You spat out.

Mingyu rolled his eyes. In his, admittedly, short life, you were the most difficult thing he ever had to deal with. If he tried to talk with you formally, you asked him who he was trying to impress. If he talked with you normally, you would roll your eyes and say that you guys were not that close. If he tried to be rude, you would announce to the world that the class monitor and soccer captain and science club president was a bully. If he tried to be nice, like he was now by giving you a sports drink because you almost fainted during PE, you acted like he was planning on murdering you. God, he could never win with you.

Between the two of you, he always gave in first. He had to. There was no one more stubborn than you in the whole wide world. And everytime he said it, you always replied, it’s because I am an aries. As if that counts for anything. When Mingyu protested that he was too, you gave the same reply as the previous thousand times: my birthday is on March 26. I am a March Aries, and that’s better. Suffice to say, he never won that particular argument.

“Okay, that’s it.” Mingyu’s hand darted out and caught your wrist that was going to chuck the empty bottle at his head. “Why can’t you accept one nice thing from me? Or better yet, just tell me why you hate me so much? Is it the science club thing? Cause I will resign if it is.”

“Science club thing?” Your voice is shriller with each word you utter. “You know what you did. Don’t try to play innocent with me. It’s not gonna work. I am not a part of your little posse.”

“Oh, you so wish you were.” Mingyu pulls you closer so that you are almost nose to nose with him. Your brown eyes blazed in indignation and he had to stop himself from getting even more closer if that was even possible. Closing his eyes for a second to reorient himself, Mingyu breathed out, “I am not playing innocent. Please, just please tell me where I messed up?”

You searched his eyes as if to see if he was speaking the truth. He could see you resisting the urge to just scream at him and leave. But, maybe, you could feel his sincerity. In a calm and tight voice, you said, “You straight up told my best friend to her face that she had no chance with you. How could you be so cruel?”

“I didn’t realize I hurt her so much.” Mingyu admitted. “But, I wanted to make it clear that I would never like her.” 

“Why not? She is so nice and kind and all things lovely.” You implored. “Maybe if you gave her a chance….”

“No.”

“But-”

“Sorry, not possible.”

“If you would just liste-”

“Nope.”

“Why are you being like this!” You yell out in a half-scream.

With more of a resemblance to a statue than a man, Mingyu replied, “Did you ever consider that I rejected her because I liked you instead?”

“Oh.”

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜

if anyone wants me to write about a specific member, please send me an ask with the member name + three words from this word generator)

[its-echo-song]

Hotel Room One Shot

Hey guys! I did a little bit of a spicier rewrite of one of my chapters from Aura of Life and decided maybe to just post it here for fun. If that's not your thing, feel free to skip this one. Though, I will say, it fades to black so I would rate this mature but not explicit. As always Donny belongs to @tuna-jsgross

We stumble our way into the hotel, giggling and dancing our way down the hallways to our room. We’d taken a cab, leaving the truck in the parking lot of the restaurant, and now we’re ready to retire for the evening. 

Donny’s loosened his tie, unbuttoned a few buttons off the top of his shirt, and his hair has fallen loose of the gel’s feeble attempts to hold it in a slicked-back style. All things considered, even in his mussed state, Donny looks lovely in formal wear. 

“I should ask you to dress like this more often.” I coo at him, pulling his tie completely undone with a gentle swoosh of the fabric and tossing it over his shoulder. He grins down at me, lopsided, blushing, and full of roguishness. 

“Yeah? It’s not my favorite but if you like it I guess it wouldn’t kill me.” 

“Oh, ‘like it’ is an understatement- I could stare at you all night. I think I just did, actually.” 

He laughs, pulling an arm around me and unlocking the door to our room. “You love to stare when you’re drunk.”

“Because you’re intoxicating- the most handsome man in the world.” 

He opens the door and I gesture widely for him to enter. 

“Dork- you’re going to give me a big head.”

“Never. You can’t call it an ego if it's a simple fact.”

“Flatterer.” He states as he loosens my tie, pulling it off and placing it aside. A moment later, his joins it, pulled off his shoulder and tossed with far less care than mine. “How do I get more of that to happen?”

I pull his jacket off his shoulders, placing a kiss on his cheek as I do. “Just keep being how you are, I can’t help it.” 

“Can’t help it, now?”

“I mean- look at you-” I gesture at him, he flushes slightly- but his grin does not fade in the least. I turn and hang his coat in the closet, taking mine off and hanging it next to his. The size difference is almost laughable. 

“I say it a lot but I love you- you don’t understand.”

I laugh now, turning back to fix him with a look. “Whatever do you mean? Like I don’t feel the same? I’m also quite enraptured, remember?” 

“Mm, but I think it’s impossible for you to understand how I feel, anyway.” He walks over and grabs me by the waist, pulling me close and giving me a kiss. I’m unsure, entirely, if my head spins because of the dopamine or because of the alcohol. I hear myself giggle, pulling him back in by the collar of his shirt. I’m not particularly concerned with the details of the cause of my joy at the moment.

He picks me up, the same as when we’d had our first kiss, my stomach does a flip of excitement and for a moment I forget all else as I wrap my legs around his waist-

Until there’s a loud thud and I realize a few moments after that it was the sound of my head hitting the wall- I only process it by the way Donny is apologizing and asking if I’m okay. 

“This seems to be a rough ride.” I comment, intertwining my finger through one of his loose waves, curling the strand around it. “I’m not sure if I trust the driver anymore.”

He laughs gently, burying his head into my neck, bracing himself against the wall. The whiskers of his beard tickle, sending goosebumps across my flesh. I do my best to hold back the giddy laughter from it. 

“Sorry. Are you okay? Really.”

“Yes, I’m fine. But perhaps we aren’t sober enough for that- as much as I like being tossed around.”

“I’m very invested in you enjoying being thrown around, Harv.” He teases with an arched eyebrow.

This causes the blood to rush to my face, the tone of his voice catches me off guard. “Yeah, well, what if I want to do what you like?”

“Me.” He draws back and meets my gaze. “Easy answer, do me.”

I laugh, full bodied and joyful, appreciating the gleam in his eyes when I react this way to him. “Yeah? What do you want me to do with you?”

He thinks for a moment, studying my face, then pulls me away from the wall and tosses me onto the bed- I can’t lie and say I’m not impressed by the sheer strength it takes to do such a thing, that I’m not attracted to it. He sits down and starts taking off his shoes, chucking one and then the other before laying down with me. “I like being able to be close to you, to hold you, to kiss you- I like it when you do those things first.” “What else?” I kick my shoes off, Donny’s eyes track the motion before wandering back up to my face.

“Well-.” He takes a slow and deep breath in, looking over me again with a spark of heat. The rest of his response is murmured in a low and bassy tone. “I want you to touch me, make me lose my damn mind.”

He pulls me close and I find myself running my hands along his arms. I’m captivated by the subtle shifting of muscles under my fingertips, frustrated by the fabric which folds and catches as I try to etch the lines of them. “Do you need this?” I tug at the sleeve and his eyebrows shoot up. “I hope not.” He sits up, starts undoing the next button on his shirt. I sit up with him, pull his hand away and take over the task for him- kneeling as I work on the buttons. “You know… I find the human body fascinating. It’s amazing how we function, move, breathe-” I glance up to meet his eyes, the redness on his face betraying nerves in equal measure. I pull the shirt off his shoulders, tossing it aside and pressing my palm against his chest- feeling his too-fast heartbeat in rhythm with mine. “And- I like knowing that I’m the reason your heart is beating like this.”  

I trail my hands up, gently pulling him toward me for a kiss, reveling in the way his breath hitches as I brush fingertips along his jugular vein to the back of his jaw. 

His lips meet mine and I can’t help the smile that forms on my face as they do, delight being such a simple concept in the moment- but how it ever existed without him, I do not know.

He brings his hand up to my neck and pulls me closer, starving for more as if the kiss will never be enough. In this particular instance, I agree. 

Somewhere within this exchange, I find myself wandering. My hands glide over beautiful skin and I enjoy the way Donny seems to melt into my touch, breathing a soft hum of approval as I move. 

He pulls away suddenly and starts to kiss my neck, a gesture that sends my head reeling, the feeling of wet, open kisses on my skin is nearly too much to bear. 

He works on the buttons of my shirt at the same time- fumbling, slightly, until I impatiently tell him to just rip the damn thing open. He glances at me questioningly, but then simply chuckles and obliges. The buttons fly off in a cacophony and he slides the shirt off my shoulders freely, kissing along my clavicles as he does.

Then he falls onto his back, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me with him so my hands rest on either side of his head and I’m straddling his hips. I smile down at him for a moment, then grind my hips into his. He moans loudly, throwing his head back and flushing deeper, a sight and sound that I enjoy to its fullest before I move on.

I start kissing a trail down his neck, over his collarbone, between his pecs, arching my back as I move lower, pulling myself further back on my knees. I glance up at Donny as I do this, loving the way his eyes are following me in reverent hunger. 

I giggle, feeling the rush of joy from the look of anticipation on his face, and sink my teeth into his chest. Once again, Donny moans for me, spitting out a swear and gripping at the blankets- being more worked up the longer I take.

So I take my time, breathing over his skin and whispering soft proclamations about his beauty, the way I adore him, the way I love how he sounds- I mean every word of it and he damn well knows it. Each word hits him in full, a new rush of sensation, another hitched breath, another exclamation of how much I’m driving him insane.

But we both know he won’t do anything about it until he’s on the edge of desire- this is the game we play. 

So I begin describing in detail the nerves that run along his arms, tracing them softly with kisses before graduating to discussing the science behind endorphins. 

I demonstrate this by gifting him several bite marks along his sides and hips, explaining his pain threshold to him as he writhes under me begging me to stop teasing him.

I answer this by sliding my fingers along his waistband, slowly unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down and off of him. The underwear follows suit without much ceremony. I can tell by Donny’s breathing that he’s sure that I’m done now, he feels relief in the finality of the movement- so I trace a trail back up his body with my tongue, gently kissing along the way and muttering how he’s been so good for waiting so long. 

But he’s growing frustrated with the waiting, the way I’ve pulled every trick I possibly can to make him want this more than he’s ever wanted anything, and when I look back into his eyes all I see is an all consuming, lust-sodden, darkened gaze. 

So mercy, it is -as if I’m not on the edge of teetering over into animalistic carnality anyway- I hurry to dispose of my own clothing, tossing them off to the side and relishing the feeling of flesh against flesh. 

Donny’s hands glide down my back, warm and heavy and beautifully large in the way they nearly encapsulate my hips entirely when he grabs them. 

Now it’s my turn to plead with him, leaning down and savoring a kiss that’s as much lust as it is appreciation, when I pull away I breathe out a simple ‘please.’ 

It’s enough for him, he fumbles a bottle of lube and I feel a shock of anticipation heatwave through my body- a moment passes before Donny gives me a nod, I kiss him again, and with an utterance of “good boy” said more like a song than a gasp of pleasure, I lower myself onto him.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello there

First of all, a huge thank you for all the effort you put in for us to find stories we love.

I was just wondering if you have any stories along these lines

An "Accidentally Married AU" but not one where they get drunk and get married. More like one of them comes from a different culture/is some sort of creature and the other completes a mating ritual without realising. The closest I've found for this is here:

Don't Wake a Sleeping Bear(Dragon) - ZehWulf - Good Omens (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

But I was wondering if you knew of any others?

Your help is very much appreciated here!

Have a lovely day.

Hi! Here are some fics where they are accidentally married/bonded for reasons other than being drunk. Mind the tags on a couple of these!...

Intertwined by greygerbil (G)

After switching bodies, Aziraphale and Crowley have a matching small but persistent problem.

Vows by Bookwormgal (T)

Crowley certainly didn't do it on purpose. It wasn't something that he exactly planned. But a moment of desperation and stubbornness gave birth to the creation of something new. A bond forged of power, hope, devotion, love, and promises that he would never break. It isn't often that a demon metaphysically half-marries an angel.

Help, I Accidentally Married a Fae by fruchox (T)

Crowley hadn't meant to fall through a Faerie and into an accidental marriage with the Fae Ruler, Aziraphale. It's just that, as time passes, and as they overcome the problems that stand in front of getting Crowley home, he's not sure he wants to go back to his world after all.

The mortifying ordeal of being un-known by Gay_internet_mafia (T)

Tasked with securing a surrogate for the second coming he does not want to come, Aziraphale seeks out his demon. Only for Crowley to have no memory of him at all. Can they solve the mystery and see Crowley's memories returned? And what will he think of Aziraphale once they do?

I’m Your Landsailor by IneffableDoll (T)

In a small seaside town called Tadfield, one of the last places on Earth where humans and magic coexist, an exiled selkie and a human who ran away from her life accidentally get themselves married in the oldest, most binding sense. The two are forced to stay together until they can find a way to undo it and free the other from their accidental marriage. It sure would be complicated if they started to fall for each other in the process…

Offerings by fenrislorsrai (M)

“Come home with me then. Stay and talk.” “Are you… inviting me in?” They are nowhere near a building to go into. They are just reaching the first crossroad on a very long walk home. He is clearly asking something Anthony doesn’t quite grasp the meaning of, but can tell it is something huge and life changing. “I don’t know what that means. What does it matter if you’re everywhere and nowhere if I ask you to be somewhere?” Ế̵͇̠V̷̯̇Ĕ̷̞̬͠R̸̖̭͋Y̵̬̟̅T̶̜̺͠H̴̖͉̾I̸̦̠̽̽N̶̯̈́G̴̫͎͋ As a young man, Anthony saw Death and invited it in. Gave it a home. Gave it a life. Bought that time with the blood of others. Now he’s growing older. His last victim nearly took him. Death comes for everyone. Anthony accepts this. Knows he’ll die too. Have to leave Death alone. And Death can’t accept that. detailed notes about potentially triggering content at the start of each chapter. Rated M for graphic violence On healing from trauma and the importance of stories & rituals for dealing with that which would otherwise destroy us. On finding the words to describe what happened without those very words causing you greater pain. Also pining while married

And the one you mentioned...

Don't Wake a Sleeping Bear(Dragon) by ZehWulf (T)

Crowley's a mage on the run from goons from Lucifer's court, but a twisted ankle means he has to find a hiding spot for the night and fast. Luckily, there's a nearby, hopefully empty cave he can hide in! :D

- Mod D

[zeroseuniverse]

Alien On This Earth

Word Count: 1.0K Summary: “You don’t have to figure everything out on your own,” you said softly. “You have me.” Pairing: Han X Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

Navigation

Han Jisung had been on Earth for about three months now. His first few days had been confusing, to say the least. He had crash-landed in the middle of a field with no idea where he was or what had just happened. The sky above him had been full of stars, and as the ship crumpled and buckled around him, the noise of it all—frantic, sharp, and thunderous—had made his head spin.

But then, everything went quiet. Too quiet.

Jisung stood up, dusting himself off, and immediately started hearing the faintest hum under his feet, in the wind, inside his head. His head, which, let’s be honest, had been full of way too many thoughts, but none of them made sense. He could hear the chirp of a bird from miles away, and he could feel the vibration of distant cars, even the soft rustling of leaves in the trees… and it was like the whole world was speaking to him. He couldn’t help but wonder if everyone could hear it.

Spoiler: they couldn’t.

So, that was his first clue that things were going to be very different on Earth.

Jisung tried to blend in. He tried his best to mimic the way humans lived, talk like them, understand the world like they did. But what made it even more difficult was his abilities. He didn’t know where they came from, why he could control sound, or even why everything he touched sometimes vibrated or trembled. Whenever he accidentally made something crack, like a doorframe or a glass cup, he couldn’t understand why everyone else didn’t notice. It felt normal to him, but it was just too normal to the humans around him, and they thought he was just some weird, super-loud weirdo.

That was when he met you.

You had been shopping at the local convenience store, minding your own business, when you heard a strange, low hum. You glanced over and saw Jisung standing near the counter, his fingers twitching as if he were controlling something invisible in the air. He seemed lost, confused even, trying to calm himself as the air buzzed with an unnatural static.

And then, in the most unexpected move, he bumped into you.

“Oh, sorry,” Jisung said, blinking up at you with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean to… um, crash into you.”

You looked at him for a second, still processing the fact that something had vibrated in the air. You smiled, because you were curious, and his awkwardness was endearing. “No worries,” you said, laughing. “It’s just that… you’re, um, kinda vibrating.”

He looked at you, eyes still wide, as if you had spoken in a completely different language. “I am?”

“Yup. A little bit. It’s cool, though,” you reassured him. “I mean, I can’t do it. That’d be weird, right?”

And just like that, your strange connection had been made.

From then on, you found yourself bumping into Jisung more and more—literally and figuratively. It was like he kept running into situations that were just a little too much for him to handle. You’d find him pacing nervously in the corner of a coffee shop, his hands jittering with the hum of sound he couldn’t control, and you’d go up and calmly ask, “Need some help?”

“Yeah… I think so?” Jisung would reply sheepishly, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “I swear I’m not trying to cause trouble. It’s just—this just happens sometimes.”

You smiled, holding out a hand. “Well, I think you’re safe here. I can’t hear what you’re hearing, but I think you’re pretty cool. So, take a breath, and just focus. You’re not alone in this.”

You always made him feel like it was okay. That he wasn’t an alien. That he wasn’t a freak. And maybe it helped that you had a way of seeing the world that others didn’t. After all, who else would hear Jisung’s sound hum like a beautiful melody, even if it did shake the windows a little too much?

One afternoon, while hanging out in the park, you found Jisung struggling again. The whole world felt like it was vibrating around him—louder and more intense than it had ever been before. It was like the noise of the world was pressing in on him, and the confusion was starting to show.

“Jisung,” you called out, grabbing his attention. “Stop for a sec. You’re going to make everything go haywire.”

“I can’t help it!” He groaned, running his hands through his hair. “Everything just feels so loud. Why can’t humans hear it like I do? I just want to talk to someone who gets it!”

You stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “Hey, you’re not alone. Not anymore. And if anyone can understand feeling everything all at once, it’s me. It’s okay. Just let me help.”

For a second, Jisung just stared at you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. Then, slowly, he exhaled, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Thanks… I guess I’m still figuring it out.”

“You don’t have to figure everything out on your own,” you said softly. “You have me.”

And somehow, hearing those words felt like the safest place Jisung had ever known.

As the weeks went by, you became his anchor, his sounding board, the one person who didn’t find his abilities strange, but fascinating. You were always there, offering encouragement and protection when the world around him started to close in. No one could understand why the world had started changing, why the oppressive tension had risen so suddenly, but with you by his side, Jisung felt like maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay.

One evening, as the sun set and painted the sky in soft shades of pink, you and Jisung sat side by side on the rooftop of his apartment. You were both silent for a while, taking in the view. The air felt peaceful, but there was still that strange hum under your feet—faint, but persistent.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jisung whispered, turning to look at you. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smiled at him, nudging him gently. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll always be here, Jisung. I’ll protect you. You’re not alone.”

And in that moment, the hum of the world faded just a little bit, and all that was left was the soft connection between you two—a bond that could never be broken, no matter how loud the world around you became.

[thetravelingegg]

I’m a horrible horse nerd and also a horrible transformers nerd so enjoy my headcannons of my favorite mtmte characters as horses! 😋

First up Rung the Connemara pony!

Really, really old especially for a horse but has the soundness of a 10 year old. It’s a running joke between the farm hands that he’s actually an immortal god and will outlive everyone like he did his previous owner

No one ever rides him but he loves having a job to do and would make the best lesson pony for little kids or therapeutic riders

The most amazing horse to go on a trail ride with

Mostly forgotten about in favor of the other, larger, more exhilarating and athletic horses, but is extremely affectionate and social

The best thing to do after a bad day is to hide in the corner of his stall while he gently nibbles at your hair or puts his head in your lap

Someone should braid his mane and put little flowers in it <3

Would make a great therapy horse. 10/10 sweetest boy who deserves all the peppermints

Next up Megatron the draft horse!(no particular breed however I’m pretty sure the one in the picture is a Belgian draught)

The horse is a war criminal

Usually pretty well behaved but is highly intelligent and is constantly outsmarting his handlers

It’s a running joke between them that one day he’ll start a revolution and take over the world

Has phenomenally smooth gaits and would be a good horse for a rider learning how to trot, canter or jump

Pretty patient with inexperienced riders but will not take shit and will absolutely tell you if you’re yanking on his bit or kicking too hard

Actually not that old but years of neglect has caused his joints and back to be in rough condition so he can’t do anything too strenuous

Would push himself between the fragile farm hands and other horses if they get too rowdy for his comfort

Is much gentler when disciplining the humans than he is disciplining the other horses

Yes you read that right he will discipline the humans. He likes to keep everyone in line and won’t hesitate to correct unnecessary aggressiveness whether human or horse

Basically the “alpha wolf” of the farm, will make sure everyone is cared for

Thoroughbred Whirl!

Bites. Bites. Bites. Bites

I only say thoroughbred because I’ve worked with them before and a lot them acted like Whirl(to be fair they also weren’t trained but I digress)

Was in one race where he bucked off his jockey immediately after the gates opened and ran around the track spooking the other horses.

They tried to fix his behavioral issues by gelding him but it turns out he’s just like that

Is missing an eye and some teeth(idk what else to do for his claws since horses can’t live without all of they’re hooves

Trying to ride him is literally the worst

If he doesn’t buck you off, he has a really jittery trot that is impossible to sit and a canter that feels like your getting launched into orbit(impossible to half-seat).

Hates all tack but has absolutely crotch-killing sky high withers if you try bareback

Amazing jumper though. Can scale practically anything with perfect form. Would be fun to do cross country with if he actually listened

(A picture of a cross country jump because holy fucking shit that’s insane)

Jumping with him feels like flying

Is constantly jumping the fences to raid the feed room no matter how big they are and confusing everyone who works there.

I honestly can’t see him ever behaving enough to be ridden calmly for more than five minutes(if he really likes and trusts the rider)

Will leave the farm randomly to go on a romp through the woods then come back for dinner

The apex predator of his area. Will fight off bears and eat small wildlife like squirrels because he can

Last but not least it’s friesian Tarn!

Infinite ♾️ aura horse

The most graceful thing on four legs. Gorgeous and intimidating

Absolutely demolishes dressage competitions. Completely captivates the judge with his flashy movement and his scar only makes him more charming

As soon as he steps into the ring his competitors know they lost

The kind of horse who loves training and his job

The only one who’s still a stallion and is actually well behaved for the most part although he’ll throw the occasional tantrum when things don’t go his way

He sometimes even goes overboard in an attempt to please his rider

His best friend is a feral barn cat named Nickel who hates humans and will attack anyone who tries to pet her

She terrifies the farmhands more than the actual stallion and they will fight over who has to enter Tarn’s stall first because she likes to sleep in the straw

She will nap on his back while he grazes

Here’s a video of what he would look like

[satellite-evans]

closure

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x ex!reader

Summary: you don't need Carlos' closure.

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: angst, based on the Taylor Swift song

A/N:

This my third fic for the folkmore series, and it is with none other than Carlos Sainz! This is my first time writing for him so I was quite nervous, please tell me what you think!

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

It arrives in your inbox at 2:17 AM, the timestamp almost mocking the stillness of the night. The world outside is quiet, the kind of silence that fills your room with its weight, pressing against your ribs as if the very air knows what’s coming.

The email subject line is simple.

Just wanted you to know.

For a moment, you just stare at it. The words are innocuous, almost casual, but your heart knows better. You’ve seen that phrase before—at least in the way it echoed in your mind, in the way you tried to convince yourself you’d be fine without any more explanations.

And for some reason, you already know what it’s about. You don’t need to open it to feel the heavy, familiar knot tightening in your stomach. The ache in your chest that had dulled over time, the one you had worked so hard to ignore, throbs with renewed intensity, as if it’s alive and remembering the shape of old wounds. It’s as though your body recognizes him before your mind even does, and it reacts accordingly—a reflex you can’t outrun.

Your hands tremble slightly, the familiar sensation of fear and longing mixing in your veins, but you can't bring yourself to look away. The old ache becomes a weight in your throat, too, and for a moment, you're almost paralyzed by the gravity of it. You know this isn’t just a message. This is a door opening, an invitation to face something you buried deep. But you click on it anyway, drawn in by something you can’t explain, a part of you still hoping that maybe—just maybe—this will be the thing that makes it all make sense.

I just wanted you to know I hope you're doing well. I know things ended messy between us, and I hate that. I really do. I never wanted to hurt you, and I know that I did.

I’m sorry for how I left. For not saying enough. For saying too much. For everything in between.

I hope you’re happy. I really do.

- Carlos.

The words stare back at you, flat on the screen, sterile and detached. They sit there like a sentence of finality, as if they’re not even meant for you, but for someone who doesn’t carry the weight of your history with him. It’s just an email—another digital scrap of text sent into the void of the night. But after everything, after all that’s passed, this is what he gives you? Does he think that you’re just a situation that needs to be handled? A string of hollow words with no breath behind them, no warmth, nothing that even remotely resembles the person you once knew. No, not even that. The person you thought you knew.

It was almost ironic how the shape of his name still spelled out pain. Every letter, every syllable, carried a weight that dug deep, as if each time you thought of him, the wound reopened. It was strange, how someone you once loved could still manage to hurt you, even in their absence. Everything about him—his words, his actions, even his silence—had caused so much damage that it was honestly a little concerning.

You hated him. No, despised him. The anger simmered under your skin like a constant burn, always just beneath the surface, ready to erupt. The audacity he had, the way he thought he could just walk away, leaving destruction in his wake—it was almost unbelievable. He was wrong in so many ways the day he broke up with you. The way it all went down, how he acted like it was the easiest thing in the world, how he twisted every word you’d said into something it wasn’t—it was wrong, all of it. And by the looks of it, he probably knew by now. He had to. The way time had passed, the way people talked, the way you’d changed—he had to know the damage he’d done.

Your mind replays the last time you saw him. You can still picture it so vividly—the way he had stood in the doorway of your apartment, arms crossed over his chest like a shield, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t read. He looked smaller somehow, the exhaustion wearing him down, hanging off of him like a second skin, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet he couldn't find it in himself to care about you anymore. The lines in his face were deeper, like time had been more unforgiving to him than you ever realized. The way his jaw clenched so tightly when you had begged him to just talk to you, that desperate plea falling from your lips like a prayer, but he wouldn’t listen. His silence had cut deeper than anything he could have said. The way he hadn’t looked back when he walked away. Not once. Not a single glance. Like you didn’t exist. That was when you realized he had put a distance between you two ages ago that you were finally seeing—a sea you were too tired to cross.

The door had clicked shut behind him with a finality that shattered you into pieces you weren’t sure you could ever put back together. That sound—the click of the lock—wasn’t just the end of a visit, but the end of everything. The end of any future you thought you’d have together. You didn’t just lose him in that moment. You lost the life you’d built around him. And you’ve been trying to rebuild ever since.

And now, months later, this. This email. A quiet, late-night message, sterile in its simplicity, like he was trying to offer a neat little bow to wrap up the wreckage he left behind. But there’s no ribbon to tie, no neatness to this. What he gave you wasn’t closure—it was a reminder that, for all his talk of wanting to make amends, he’s still incapable of meeting you where you need him.

You slam your laptop shut, too quickly, too harshly, as if the words might physically reach out and strangle you if you don’t. For a moment, your fingers linger on the lid, shaking, the intensity of your pulse drowning out the quiet hum of the city outside. The night has become suffocating, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the email, or because you’re finally confronting what you’ve been trying to ignore for so long. The pain hasn’t gone anywhere, and neither has the ache. It sits with you like an old friend, one you can’t seem to shake.

It’s almost laughable, really. You can’t help but chuckle bitterly to yourself as you stare at the screen. He thinks he’s giving you closure. That this carefully constructed email, this rehearsed apology, is supposed to fix something, to heal the rift that’s been eating away at you for months. That it will somehow mend the fractures in your heart as if it’s something that can be neatly patched up with a few well-chosen words. But the truth is, it doesn’t even come close. No, this isn’t closure. This isn’t even an attempt at healing—it’s just an afterthought, a last-ditch effort to clear his conscience without ever truly facing the damage he caused. And it’s almost insulting.

Closure isn’t an email at 2 AM, casually dropped into your life as though he’s just checking off a box. It isn’t a collection of words stripped of warmth, void of real feeling, written at a distance, with no regard for the time, or the place, or the person it’s supposed to reach. Closure would have been a conversation. A real one. A face-to-face moment where he would have stayed, where he would have stayed long enough to listen, to hear you, and not just walk away the moment it got hard. That would have been closure. But he didn’t stay. He left you behind with nothing but the echoes of your unanswered questions.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you struggle to steady yourself. You take a deep breath, but it shudders on the way in, uneven and sharp. It feels like your lungs are betraying you, like they can’t hold the air in anymore, and you’re left gasping in the void between anger and heartache. Your throat is thick with unshed tears, but you refuse to let them fall. Not again. Not for him. You’ve cried enough tears for him already, enough for a lifetime. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this anymore, that you wouldn’t let him be the reason you hurt.

You want to reply. You want to scream, to let him know how deeply he’s failed you, how his absence is still an open wound, festering in the corners of your mind. You want to tell him that, even now, you still wake up in the middle of the night, expecting to hear his voice, expecting to feel the weight of his arm around your waist. You still reach for him in the dark, your fingers grasping at air, and you realize too late that he’s not there. You want to tell him that every time you see red—Ferrari red, that damn red, the color of his car, of everything he used to be to you—you feel like you might break all over again, like all the pieces you’ve tried to pick up and put together have shattered into even smaller bits.

But he's not Ferrari red anymore. He's Williams blue now. You’d probably be a new wrinkle in his life, a person who wouldn’t fit. Heck, you didn’t even fit when he was in Ferrari. You could answer him back, tell him you forgave him, that you both could be friends again. Maybe that would iron everything out nicely.

But you won’t. You won’t give him that satisfaction. You won’t give him the power to pull you back into this mess, into this space where you lose yourself every time you think about him. He doesn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to let him keep doing this to you.

The frustration, the hurt, the unanswered questions—they all feel like they're swirling in a storm that won't quiet. You crawl into bed, pulling the blankets around yourself as if they could offer the protection your mind and heart desperately crave.

You are fine. Everything is fine. You had your beers, your occasional crying sessions, your candles. You were doing so much better without him. You had to.

It cut deep, knowing him, all the way to the bone. The breakup had been necessary. It had to be. You were healing, getting better, moving on. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But the ache in your chest and the rapid, shallow breaths you couldn't control told a different story. It was one you knew the ending to but didn’t want to face. His email was oh so unnecessary, cruel even. He had broken up with you months ago, and yet here he was again, trying to reach back into your life. He shouldn’t have contacted you. He should’ve left you alone.

And you definitely should’ve stayed in bed.

Hatred and regret twisted inside of you, each trying to take the lead, but you were too exhausted to figure out which was winning. Still, you knew you had to respond.

Your gaze lingered on the laptop screen for what felt like hours, your mind scrambling for the right words, something that could strike him, something that would hurt, something that would linger with him forever the way he had lingered in your life. But nothing came.

Instead, what you found was something deeper—something far more painful.

Acceptance.

Acceptance was the true winner in the battle between your emotions. It was the thing you’d been running from, the thing you’d fought so hard to avoid. You had accepted it.

It was over.

So, with a steady hand, you typed the final words you’d ever send him and blocked his email so he could never contact you again.

"I don’t need your closure."

[confusionism]

"Hey," he replies, his shoulders almost shaking from suppressed mirth, "my eyes are up here." Turning the tables, because he can only imagine the number of times she’s said the same, albeit seriously. Minus the bashfulness, however, Aiden would never actually complain about Anna’s ogling. What gives him pause now is more of their surroundings. The murmur of the crowd, that’s gotten just a little bit louder. “I’m gonna stop.” Fuel for him to put the slightest, barely-noticeable distance between them, “—‘Cause I will start a commotion if you let me keep me going about, you know—” his gaze slides down her smooth curves before returning back up, “—you being down under.”

But it’s definitely a high-issue topic to revisit later. It always is.

For the moment, he refocuses on her curiosity, and it seems like he’s back to his usual self, questioning the world and its dramatic oddities with the faintest quirk in his brow. “About Chelsea, but you know something— I think that dude’s usually got a thing for animals? He did that one movie last year, about a scientist who made friends with an octopus while studying a kelp forest?” He’s suddenly serious when he adds, “—Before that, I think it was about endangered birds.” The history’s pretty interesting. Animals are cool. He just can’t understand the connection between staunch environmentalism and… Sports. Whether it’s the reality of football attracting a more vocal, more viral crowd, or just another example of how people can have a strange mix of interests, he shakes his head. “Hope he’s not saying Chelsea’s going extinct or something.”

Whatever the reasoning for the offer the, he doesn’t truly care what that guy thinks; Aiden’s not about to let some folks with deep pockets make a circus out of his guys. They’re fools, but his fools. Leave it to him to embarrass them. So maybe it’s a little funny, a little odd, a little out of place when he answers,

“I don’t have any friends.” Plain and simple. Aiden knows people — gets paid a hefty sum to know them like the back of his hand — and yet nobody really knows him. It takes about ten seconds for him to think, ‘Well, shit,’ because he doesn’t want this to turn into a pity party. “—Or, like— I’m not like that.” Obviously. “I don’t really have anyone specific I go reaching out to for company.” Background mentality. If they want him there, they’ll ask, and he’ll see if his brain is ready to deal with all of the extra noise. There’s nothing in his posture, his expression, or in his words that indicates even the slightest bit of dissatisfaction.

There’s no sort of judgment or excessive pushiness coming out of Anna, either, yet there’s something… Aiden can’t really describe it. Anna Ricci (the person) magic. The weird stuff that’s got him adding to his ‘a game’ playlist, its energetic name masking the collection R&B jams and other cheesy shit he’s picked out because the vibes remind him of her. “I prefer watching games alone.” His brain’s usually loud enough to fill up the gaps then. “—But I’ll tell you what. Next time I get the invite,” to some gallery opening courtesy of some artistic acquaintance, or even just a lowkey dig hosted by a friendly face, “I’ll take you along.” No questions asked (other than confirming her interest), no hesitations. Even when he tilts his head and asks, “Or is that your way of saying you wanna host at our place?”

Whichever one she’d pick, for she’s built her fair share of new furnishings and filled out the spaces well enough to really make them both homes. Soft warmth courses through his veins at the mere thought, along with the never-ending urge to remind her, “I wanna make it completely clear, though: you’re my MVP.” His first choice for a single call— the only one outside of work he regularly calls, and he’s more than content with that. And just like that, he’s even closer to her, with his hand squeezing back. “I’m not subbing you any time soon.”

"Tony fights anyone who gets between him and the season finale of Love is Blind." Sure, he did it for Anna, for her ever-abundance of loyalty for Aiden. But there's also the reality that Tony's now at Vauxhall, downing shots everytime someone says they're on the island for the "right reasons." Two things can be true. "I didn't start a commotion." Anna lowers her head, like a little girl caught red-handed. No, Aiden's not telling her off. He's echoing her commitment, but still reminding her - there's some things one ought not to do. Getting arrested, or causing a commotion, for one. "And if I did..." By sprinting down the airport, throwing a hundred quid at a kid whose drink she knocked over, and then pouting at an officer...

"I know you'd be there to bail me out." Because Anna may have acted the fairy godmother of the evening. But in every other sense, it's Aiden who sweeps in to save her. Or better yet, show her the way out. The proof is in every new thing she learns to do with him. This is just one of many ways she gives it back, coming closer to brush the nice fabric of his suit. "Or use the nail file on your Swiss army knife and get us both free." Heroes or bandits? The jury's out. Regardless, it's clear now; they only look the part of posh and proper.

Because when Aiden leans in, smelling heavenly and with that look in his eye. With the sort of joke that makes her laugh second, because first, her eyes drop down to the area between his legs. "Fuck me." Anna whispers, eyes wide and brightly scandalized. "And here I thought I just got outta down under." Now, however, her mind's firmly down there...

Which makes her take a half-second longer to register Aiden's answer. "Like, about snow leopards? Or about you and Chelsea?" Documentaries go either way. "I can see that. Like, catching up with Chelsea?" Really, she does it just to tease. Because Aiden can do anything... Except be on a reality TV show.

"Glad you didn't sub in another plus one." Her hand finds his, giving it a small squeeze. "Like Bailey. Or --" Come to think of it, Anna tilts her head; "I should meet some of your friends." Because in the storm of Anna's extroversion, it's assumed she would have met anyone of importance. Yet that's her, not him, and even some need a push.

"You know, friends to watch the game with--" Like Aiden doesn't do that everyday. "Keep you company when I'm away." He's more than capable of taking care of himself. The better one of the pair of them, candidly. And yet, a part of her worries about the long nights spent apart, the dinners eaten alone. "I wanna meet them." Or find them, she thinks. Though, unlikely to find them here.

[spooky--spookster]

Mcsmtober- Day 4: Character+Mob

Enderman Soren!! Stylised the enderman aspects cause it’s more fun.

This is actually an AU I’ve been thinking about for the past few days(idk if this has been done before, but I at least hope my au sounds original). Basically, if the order fell out sooner, and Soren spent a lot longer in the end, what effect would that have on him? My answer, he slowly turns into an enderman! When Jessie and co come to get him almost 30 years after his disappearance, he’s lost most of his humanity and memory. Because he isn’t able to make the formidabomb, it takes the gang a lot longer to kill the witherstorm, and they turn to Ivor for help to turn Soren back.

I’ll probably make more about this AU at some point, but I’m happy to finally get this idea down on paper

Prompts by @deadbeatbug

[dykedvonte]

If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

[solace-seekers]

screaming into the void <3

[manygreetingsfriend]

.