(The best of this post and its reblogs, but with links that work)
Here is a website where you can scroll down to all the different levels of the ocean
Here is a website where you can see the future of the universe
Here is a website where you can press a ‘make everything okay’ button, over and over, until things really are okay
Here is a website that you can read if you feel like a burden
Here is a website where you can look at strobe illusions (TW strobe/flashing)
Here is a website where you can cut stuff up (TW blood/sh)
Here and here are websites where you can play with sand
Here is a website where you can draw with macaroni and other fun foods
Here is a website where you can paint someone’s nails
Here is a website where you can grow a garden with emojis
Here is a website with hundreds of videos of people hugging you (rightfully dubbed ‘the nicest place on the internet’ because it really is, y’all, it made me cry)
Here is a website that will take you to other useless websites
Here is a website where you can make a tiny cat play bongo drums (and other instruments!)
Here is a website to help give you gentle reminders <3
Here is a website where you can grow a tiny farm
Here is a website where you can take a bunch of scientific personality tests
The timing of this post is actually insane. Spent the day watching years of family issues explode in real time, getting a surprise front-row seat to a confrontation, and generally feeling like my brain got put in a blender. Add in questionable math scores too, an emergency 7/11 trip, and the kind of day that makes you want to stare at a wall and probably cry for a bit. Well i did cry, fuck my life
Not to vaguepost, but if you had told me this morning that I’d end the day exhausted from both family drama and math, then find a post full of cat links, virtual hugs, funny videos, and little things to do when life gets too loud, I would’ve believed you immediately.
Seeing this right now feels oddly comforting. Thanks, Tumblr.
imagine if during the holocaust every time you were critical of nazi germany people were like "okay but we need to be careful not to be anti-christian" "yes hitler is bad but it's dangerous to lump all germans together" like we are how many years into an active genocide and antisemitism is still the pressing concern for you and not the actual racism at play here like idk the genocide?
the worst part of summer is that people get sooo comfortable expressing their disgust at having to see other people’s bodies. they’re always complaining about wrinkly old men at the nude hot springs or fat women in bikinis at the beach. I hate that shit. if you’re not capable of being normal about bodies you personally don’t find attractive, just turn your head to look at something else! and if you’re not smart enough to do that, then at least do the rest of us the courtesy of suffering in silence, because we don’t wanna hear your weird comments. thanks.
Shane also needs to interact with other gay men just to understand how truly lucky he is. He needs to hear someone go off about going on Grindr to find a top for the night and then finding out that all of the guys who have the 'Hung' tag on their profile are packing like five and a half inches at MOST and then Shane has to be like "Oh that. Yeah that sounds rough." Meanwhile he lost his anal virginity to a knockout with model looks who works out for a living and started their relationship by jerking his enormous hog at him in a communal shower which has always been one of Shane's top five fantasies. And he's literally never had to be on The Apps because he's the bottom of all time actually and the DomTop with the enormous dick imprinted on him like a fucking duckling the first time Shane came untouched under him which was, I cannot stress this enough, when he LOST HIS VIRGINITY.
Like shut the fuck up Shane Hollander how does it feel to be the chosen one. He has to confront all of this because he needs to know that he has, once again, won at life in every meaningful way. And then he can sit there like :] while that sad bottom over there bemoans the Grindr biome.
𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 SUMMARY: in your last relationship aftercare wasn’t even a concept, but with Simon Riley it’s so much more than that.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: just Simon giving you aftercare for the first time because what the hell I have free will ALSO 18+ puhlease!! Mdni I’ll boot kick you out.
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff so rotten your teeth will fall out.
Pairings: bf!Simon x gf!Reader
The next best thing to sex with Simon Riley was the aftercare - you thought as your gaze followed him into the bathroom, his frame disappearing behind the doorframe. You were sore, heart hammering and skin slick with sweat as you basked in the aftermath of it all, but a soft smile stretched across your lips.
You felt like you were positively glowing.
It shocked you the first time you both had sex. Not that you expected him to discard you with his back turned. But considering your past relationship, the lack of love after making it was normal for you.
Didn’t make it suck any less though.
So when it came to Simon. A man who practically intimidated every neighbour of yours within a block, muscle and tattoo ridden and who killed for a living - aftercare seemed … overly emotionally strenuous for him. Like it would make things too real? You thought.
But when it came and he held you as though you could crack like strained glass, gently wiping your skin with a lukewarm towel, you couldn’t hide how enamoured you felt.
How did so much care and love come from the same hands that drew blood.
“What’s tha’ look for?” Simon pointed bluntly as he butterflied your hips open to clean your core “nothing just-“ you swallowed thickly, blinking “didn’t expect all this” you breathe. Simon’s brows furrowed in confusion, gaze still tethered to wiping you clean “Christ dove, what kind of men have you been havin’ sex with” his abrasive tone made you huff a laugh “shitty ones” you retorted.
“Fuckin’ clearly” he said, guiding the rough towel over your stomach.
Seconds passed and you were still unable to wipe the adoration off your face, something Simon noticed with a huff of a laugh “ya lookin’ at me like I’ve just bought you a fuckin’ puppy” mirth dripped off of his tone.
You gently pushed him “shut up”
“What kinda man do ya’ take me for” Simon questioned while he moved to soothe the inside of your thighs. You let his words hang in the air before you responded “not a shitty one” he hummed in amusement, his belief of your words wavered thin.
Simon tended to the hickeys and bruises, apologising gruffly for getting carried away. To which you said that you didn’t mind “Good” he said, throwing the towel into the dirty clothes basket before lying down next to you “C’mere” he graveled, arms outstretched.
You complied, draping your arm across his scarred chest. A new found sense of relief flooded through you at the feeling of being so tenderly cared for. Simon heaved a sigh, coiling his arm around your waist to pull you closer “M’fuckin’ girl” he murmured before kissing the crown of your head.
I just know that when Ghost finds a girl that matches his freak in bed he makes it known to absolutely everyone how crazy good his sex life is. Like walking around the gym with her teeth imprints all up and down his biceps, the lipstick marks not even scrubbed off his chest, bruises and hickeys all along his shoulders, showing off how crazy good the sex was the night prior to the point where it starts making everyone kind of uncomfortable.
He sheds his shirt in the locker room to show off a back full of deep, welting scratches and Gaz takes one look at them before quietly sending Johnny a text from across the room that just reads: "I feel violated."
neighbor!simon riley risking bodily harm to help you out (again, without you asking)
pt. 1 — pt. 2
things have been going, for the most part, smoothly. you still haven't managed a full conversation, but he's helped you with everything you've asked for, including planting pretty flowers at both his and yours house—you insisted on matching ones and he couldn't refuse.
but with the way it's been pouring down rain for the past few days, you haven't seen him. it's not like you would've dragged him out of the comfort of his house so he could come help you.
so you relaxed on your arm chair with a warm drink and your kindle, taking another lazy day to read with rain pattering in the back. until you heard a noise that was too loud to be rain. it sounded like heavy footfalls on top of your roof—impossible, it's pouring rain and slippery as hell.
another thud jolted you, and you threw your head back with a gasp. okay, who the hell is on your roof? they're disturbing the peace, and frustration mounts with every bump and thud.
grabbing the nearest jacket without bothering to put on shoes, you stormed out the front door—the sounds came from the front of the house the loudest. you couldn't see anything from the protection of the porch, forcing you under the spray of pounding rain.
and who do you see but simon.
you had a suspicion it was him, but seeing his dark silhouette on your roof made your heart flutter and something in your abdomen warm. the rain quickly soaked your hair and clothes, but it couldn't be worse than him. he looked like a wet dog.
"what are you doing?" you called out over the pummeling rain.
he scowled when he finally noticed you. "wot the fuck are you doin'?" his voice boomed louder than the occasional thunder.
"I asked you first!"
with a grunt, he climbed down the house with ease, manifesting at your side like your own rain cloud. his body shielded you from the spray of rain that fell at an angle.
"y'could get sick." he nudged you towards the ajar front door.
you roll your eyes, ignoring the flutter over your body. "you could get sick!" you parroted but allowed him to guide you back inside. without being asked, he stepped out of his soaked boots and shrugged his dripping coat off. underneath, his white shirt was completely see through, clinging to the divots of his abs and chest.
you fought the swallow in your throat and the warmth that bloomed over your face. jesus. you'd seen him without a shirt before—when he fixed your car—but this was different, sinful.
if he notices your stares, he doesn't say anything. just pushes past towards the closet, that he somehow knows where it is, to grab towels. you think he's helping himself before he's taking off the coat you're wearing, that's soaked, and replacing it with a warm towel.
why is he fussing over you? he's the one who's been outside in the rain for god knows how long.
"mind telling me what you were doing on my roof in the pouring rain?" no doubt, it was him finding another way to help you. as you wait for his explanation, you grab him by the belt and tug him further into your house.
"gutter's were clogged."
you wait for him to say more, but he doesn't. he lets you drag him along until you're in your tiny hallway bathroom. it fits you just fine, but with him looming over your shoulder, it feels crowded. you've noticed in the past just how massive he is, but now that he's beside you, your arm grazing and bumping his abdomen, the size difference really is astonishing. heat radiates from his skin, and it could be feverish.
"you could've waited until the rain had stopped." you scold. "what if you got sick?"
he just shrugs, and a groan of frustration rumbles in your chest. his eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement, and he swipes a stray drop of water from your hair off your neck.
"you're impossible, simon." you turn your back to him, setting the towels you grabbed on the countertop. "you should shower unless you really want to get sick. leave your clothes outside the door and i'll dry them for you."
without waiting for a response, you leave. the door clicks shut, and you're left in the hallway, listening to the rustle of wet clothes as he undresses. you shake the thought of him naked from your mind, heading down the hall to start a warm drink for him. while the water warms, you go back to collect his clothes and throw them in the dryer—after ringing out the excess water trapped in the fabric.
when the water's done heating, you prepare a drink you think he'd enjoy. too wrapped up in the preparation, you don't hear the water shut off down the hall, the door, or the soft falls of his footsteps—to be fair, he walks like a ghost. turning around, he's just there. against the doorframe, towel low on his hips to expose the veins that disappear past it. he tied one around his head, concealing his face while his other mask was getting dried. it almost made you laugh.
your throat goes dry again, and with shaky hands, you set the mug down and slide it towards him. "here. you should drink this." the words are hoarse when spoken. "your clothes are almost done, I can go check."
he shakes his head, disappearing from the kitchen. its annoying how well he knows your house. simon's only gone for a minute, maybe less before he appears—still shirtless. you think he's about to put on his shirt because he's holding it, but he thrusts it towards you.
"go change." he orders.
it remind you that you're still wet from the rain, which you hadn't even noticed because you were too focused on him. you still are, considering he'd been out there for longer. but you listen to him regardless, slipping into the same bathroom to change. it was really only your shirt and pants that got wet, so you stripped and put his shirt on. it's massive on you, the hem falling to your knees and the neckline slipping off one shoulder. it still reeked of him, and you couldn't help but hold the fabric over your nose and inhale deeply. it's a warm scent.
when you emerged back down the hall, there was another mug to join the one he sipped from. he put his coat back on, but it was unzipped to expose his bare chest underneath. hyper aware of your lack of clothes, you settled on the stool next to his. steam curled over your face, and you took a moment to let it. it warmed what the rain had frozen, but something else was burning your skin. simon's eyes were trained on the side of your face, just watching and observing like you were the most fascinating thing on earth.
you turned to meet his gaze, noticing the pink that tinged the skin under his eyes and across his nose.
"you're an anomaly, simon." you whispered before taking a sip of your drink. it's made exactly the way you like it. weird. simon doesn't reply. you didn't expect him to. you sat in silence, drinking your warm beverages.
Caleb who finds out you enjoy watching asmr and soft spoken gaming videos to unwind at night. he stumbled upon your carefully curated playlist while on your phone, happened to check your watch history too. he sits on the knowledge for a few days, doesn’t mention it or tease. it’s only when he returns to the Farspace Fleet that you get a handful of notifications from him late at night. long, prerecorded videos of him mimicking the asmr and gameplay you enjoy, voice quiet and light as he softly speaks in a few. why watch strangers when Caleb can do it better? surely you’d prefer listening to him at night, it’s like he never left your bed
♡︎ synopsis: Jet-lagged and wide awake long past midnight, you let Valko invite himself over to keep you company. What starts as a friendly, playful hangout slowly turns into something much more intimate.
♡︎ pairing: Valko x fem!reader
♡︎ tags: friends to lovers, making out, dry humping, use of 'sweetheart' 'baby' 'pretty girl', cowgirl, creampie ofc
♡︎ word count: 8k
♡︎ a/n: After the announcement we got last week, I ofc had to write something for Valko. I hope you like how I wrote him.
It took me over 8 hours to edit this fic, so if you don't like something or if there are any errors, I don't wanna know <3
♡︎ I wanna thank @unintentionalseductress for helping, and my beta reader its-de who doesn't have an account anymore (🙄).
divider by @anitalenia
The glow of the television washes the living room in soft, shifting light, some familiar comfort show murmuring in the background as you sink deeper into the corner of the sofa. The apartment still carries that faint in-between feeling that always follows a trip, your half-unpacked suitcase sitting by the wall, your carry-on slouched near the entryway. You scroll through Moments without really seeing much of it, your thumb moving on autopilot as photos and captions blur together, and when your eyes flick to the time in the corner of the screen, a quiet sigh leaves you – it’s past midnight. You only got back yesterday, but it annoys you that your body still refuses to remember what time zone it belongs to.
With a small frown, you toss your phone beside you, only to reach for it again a few seconds later. Sleep feels nowhere near, but so does doing anything useful. Your gaze drifts back to the screen, catching on the photo you posted from the trip a few hours ago. For a moment, you just stare at it, thumb hovering near the comments before you see a new notification at the top of your screen, and your breath catches.
Valko.
You stare at his name for a second before tapping on the message, your pulse giving one traitorous flutter as the chat opens.
‘Why are you still up??’
Your finger lingers above the keyboard, a smile already tugging at your lips, before you type back.
‘Why are you up?’
His reply comes quickly.
‘I asked you first.’
A quiet laugh slips out of you.
You shift further into the corner of the sofa, glancing toward the television even though you are no longer paying attention to whatever scene is playing out on the screen.
‘I’m still a little jet-lagged. Can’t sleep.’
For a few seconds, nothing happens.
Your thumb brushes the edge of your phone as you stare at the screen, suddenly wondering whether that sounded too flat. Maybe you should have added something else. Maybe –
Another message appears.
‘Then can I come over and keep you company?’
You sit up so quickly the blanket pooled over your legs slips halfway to the floor.
For a moment, you can only stare at the words – it’s such a simple message, but the thought of Valko here, in your apartment, at this hour, sends a rush through you that makes it impossible to stay curled up on the sofa like nothing happened.
You try to sound casual as you type back.
‘Sure.’
His answer appears almost immediately.
‘I’ll be there in twenty.’
Your eyes widen.
Twenty?
You glance down at yourself, at the pajamas you changed into after your shower. You push yourself off the sofa, hurrying to the bathroom to make yourself more presentable.
By the time you step back into the living room, changed into your new loungewear – an oversized sweater and a pair of shorts – and a light layer of makeup, your heartbeat has still not quite calmed down.
And then you nearly jump out of your skin.
There, just beyond the glass, Valko is already waiting outside on the balcony.
Your hand flies to your chest before you let out a quiet breath, your nerves settling almost as quickly as they spiked. What did you expect? Of course he used the balcony again, like it is a perfectly normal substitute for a front door.
You step closer and slide the door open. Before he can even get a word out, you point toward the entryway and try your best to sound serious.
“You need to immediately take off your shoes and put them by the front door like any other normal person would.”
A grin pulls at his mouth, and a soft chuckle slips from him as he steps inside. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” you say, with as much dignity as you can manage, even though you already feel far too giddy to properly stay in character. “Those are the rules.”
He does exactly as he’s told, walking over to the front door to slip off his shoes and leave them neatly where they should be.
You don’t really get a chance to say anything before he closes the distance between you and pulls you into a hug.
It’s warm and almost a little too tight, the kind of hug that steals your breath for a second, but you don’t care, not when his arms are around you like this. You tuck your face against his chest, breathing him in, and something in your chest loosens.
You missed this. Two weeks wasn’t even that long, but the moment his arms close around you, it hits you how much you’d been craving this exact feeling. The solid warmth of his body, the way he hugs like he means it, the faint familiar scent of his skin.
You squeeze him a little tighter, hoping he can’t feel how reluctant you are to let go.
“I missed you,” he murmurs against the top of your head.
A smile presses against his chest.
“I’m happy to hear that,” you say softly.
His arms loosen just enough for him to pull back and look at you, though his hands still linger at your waist.
“Only happy to hear that?” he asks, head tilting just a little. “You didn’t miss me at all?”
Your heart gives another hard, hopeless thud.
With the way he is looking at you, warm and teasing and still standing too close, it’s hard to hold onto any version of coolness for very long. So you say nothing, only glance away as if that will somehow hide the fact that your pulse is stumbling all over itself.
When he finally lets you go, the loss of his warmth feels immediate. His gaze flickers over you. It’s brief, almost nothing at all, but you catch it anyway – the quick dip of his eyes, the split-second pause that lingers just a touch too long before he looks back up.
Heat stirs low in your stomach.
If he noticed the bare stretch of your legs beneath the sweater, he does not say it.
Then his gaze drifts past you, over the living room.
You follow it, and only then do you properly take in the small signs of the last two days still scattered around the apartment. It’s not a mess, but it’s enough to make you realize, with a small jolt of horror, that while you had been busy changing, fixing your face, and deciding whether those shorts were too much, it had not once occurred to you to make the place look more presentable.
Valko glances back at you, amusement already tugging at his mouth. “You really made yourself at home.”
You stare at him.
Then at the open suitcase, then back at him.
“I – ” You stop, because there is truly no dignified recovery from this. “I just got back.”
His laugh is soft and boyish, bright with amusement, and before you can fumble your way into a proper defense, his hand comes up to rest lightly on your shoulder.
“I’m teasing,” he says. “Relax.”
Something in your chest loosens at once, though the embarrassment still lingers warm at your cheeks.
“You’re annoying,” you mutter, without much conviction.
He only grins and walks past you toward the sofa, entirely too pleased with himself, and drops down onto it, one arm spreading along the backrest.
You stand there for a second, trying not to think about the fact that he’s in your apartment, at almost one in the morning. Instead of sitting down beside him, you linger on your feet and start folding the few clothes left draped over the armchair, because you need something to do with your hands.
For a little while, the conversation comes easily – you ask him what he was doing up so late, and he tells you he got caught up researching something and lost track of time, and then he asks you how the trip was. As you smooth one of the shirts between your hands, you tell him that it was beautiful, that you enjoyed it more than you expected, that you and your friends managed to explore a few cities in between all the wedding preparations, though by the end of it you were exhausted from helping with everything. Even so, you admit that it had been worth it, because seeing your friend that happy, that deeply in love, had made all of it feel strangely tender and a little overwhelming in the best way.
The words trail off there for a second, because the memory rises too clearly, your friend smiling through tears, music drifting through warm evening air, the soft gold of the lights, the feeling of standing just outside someone else’s happiness and being moved by it anyway. You pause with the folded fabric still in your hands. When you look up, Valko is already watching you in that way of his that makes it seem like he notices more than he lets on.
So you shake yourself out of it before the moment can linger too long, and with a softer laugh, you steer the conversation somewhere lighter, telling him that the food alone had probably been worth the trip, and that you would have enjoyed it even more if you had not managed to spill some of it on your dress before the night was over.
“That’s a shame,” he says. “You looked beautiful.”
A soft flutter moves through your stomach, and for a brief second, you remember the small rush of giddiness you felt earlier when the notification popped up and you saw that he had liked the photo. Heat rise to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you murmur.
You clear your throat softly and glance toward the suitcase.
“Oh, right,” you say. “I almost forgot.”
His brows lift a little as you cross the room and crouch beside the half-open case, pushing aside a few last things until your fingers find what you had tucked in carefully. When you straighten again, you are holding a small sachet of dried flowers and a box of chocolates.
Valko watches you come back toward him, his expression shifting into mild confusion. “What’s that?”
You stop in front of him and hold the two things out. “A gift for you,” you say, “The flowers are from a little shop near where we stayed,” you explain. “They smelled really good, and they made me think of you. And the chocolates are from a local chocolaterie.”
A quiet breath leaves him, almost like a laugh, though there is something more touched than amused in it.
“That’s... really nice of you,” he says. “Thank you.”
You shrug. “It’s nothing.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not nothing.”
Before you can answer, he reaches for you.
His hand catches your wrist gently and tugs you closer, and the next thing you know, you are half stumbling onto the sofa as he pulls you down beside him and gathers you into another hug, and a startled little laugh slips out of you.
His cheek brushes your temple, and then his lips do too. “You’re sweet,” he murmurs.
For a moment, you simply let yourself stay there, tucked against him on the sofa.
“So,” he says, leaning back, “are you feeling sleepy yet?”
You shake your head. “Not at all. I’m wide awake.”
His gaze lifts toward the digital clock on the wall, and the faint crease that appears between his brows makes you want to laugh a little. “It’s past one,” he says, glancing back at you. “That’s a problem.”
You tilt your head. “Is it?”
“Yes,” he says, with enough seriousness to make the corners of your mouth twitch. “It is. We need to get you to sleep.”
Your lips pull into a small pout. “But you said you wanted to keep me company.”
His expression softens with amusement. “I do want to keep you company, but you should really get your sleep sorted out.”
The pout lingers, growing just enough to make him narrow his eyes at you like he already knows you are about to be difficult on purpose.
“So you said you missed me, and now you’re trying to get me to go to sleep. Rude.”
Valko looks ready to answer right away, but then he stops. His mouth closes again, and something shifts in his expression – a glint of mischief appears in his eyes so suddenly and so familiarly that you know you’re in trouble.
“Oh,” he says slowly, his grin beginning to spread, “so that’s what this is?”
Heat starts rising before you even know where he is going with it.
“Are you saying you missed me too?” His smile widens. “You just want to spend more time with me. Is that what you’re saying?”
Your whole face goes hot.
For a moment, you can only stare at him, feeling the burn spread across your cheeks as your mouth opens and closes once, then again, with absolutely nothing useful coming out. Valko’s grin only widens at your silence, clearly delighted with himself, and before he can say anything worse, you reach up and grab his cheeks between your fingers, squishing them without mercy.
“Ow, ow, ow,” he protests, though the laugh in his voice ruins any real attempt at sounding injured. “No need for violence!”
You let go, trying to look far less flustered than you feel, while he rubs at his cheeks with both hands and gives you a faint little pout that does nothing to make him less smug.
“Well,” you say, refusing to let him have the last word so easily, “you’re awake at this hour too, so why don’t you go to sleep?”
He leans back into the sofa, still rubbing one cheek as if you have truly wounded him, and lets out a thoughtful hum. “You know,” he says after a moment, “you’re right. The research I was doing didn’t help. My brain is still working through it, so I should probably try to relax too.”
His gaze drifts around the apartment then, over the sofa, the blankets, the cushions, and when he looks back at you, there is something almost casual in the way he says, “I can stay here, if you want. I can sleep over and take the sofa. Your apartment is cozy, after all.”
Your heart gives a quick, sudden flutter.
Then he pauses, glances toward the half-open suitcase by the wall, and adds with a grin, “Even with all this mess around.”
You smack his shoulder and he only laughs, like he had been waiting for exactly that reaction.
“Well,” you say, trying, and failing, to hide your smile, “if you think the sofa will be comfortable enough, then sure. You can stay over.”
Before he can find something else to tease you about, you pat your hands against your thighs and start to stand up. “Okay, then,” you say sweetly, already turning away. “Goodnight.”
Valko’s hand catches your waist before you get more than halfway up, stopping you without any real effort. A soft, amused laugh escapes him, like he knows exactly what you’re doing.
“No, no, no,” he says, gently pulling you back down beside him. “Now we both have to help each other fall asleep.”
You glance at him, unable to keep your smile from slipping through. “Oh, so that’s how it is?”
“That’s exactly how it is.”
Valko grabs the blanket you’d been using and spreads it over both of you. “We can watch whatever you had on,” he says, nodding toward the TV.
You settle deeper into the sofa, close enough that your knee brushes his beneath the blanket. For a while, neither of you says much. Then, slowly, his arm slips along the back of the sofa and curls around your shoulders, drawing you gently against his side – and you can’t help but lean into him.
At one point, you see him nuzzle lightly into the blanket – that sweet, familiar habit of his that always made you smile.
The episode plays on. A few small comments pass between you, easy and low, but gradually his body grows heavier against yours. His head tips until it rests lightly on top of yours, and his breathing slows into deep, even breaths.
You go still, listening.
A smile tugs at your lips when you carefully tilt your head to glance up at him.
His eyes are closed.
So much for his very serious plan.
Carefully, so you do not jostle him too much, you lift a hand and give his arm a small nudge. “Hey,” you murmur. “You’re gonna hurt your neck like that.”
He makes a soft sound first, then shifts against you, his cheek brushing against your hair before his eyes crack open only halfway. There is a moment where he looks thoroughly confused, caught between sleep and waking, and then his brows draw together faintly as if he is trying to remember where he is.
“Hey…” he mumbles, voice drowsy. “I’m supposed to be the one helping you sleep.”
“You’re doing a terrible job,” you whisper back, smiling as you say it.
He exhales a sleepy, half-formed laugh and instead of pulling away, sinks closer, his arm tightening around you.
You stay quiet for a moment, letting the comfortable silence settle between you. Then Valko’s voice breaks it, barely more than a murmur when he asks, “Did you miss me?”
The question is simple, stripped of any teasing. For a second, you just look at him – at his sleepy face, at the hopeful, searching look in his eyes.
“Yes,” you say softly. “I did.”
His arm tightens just slightly around you.
“I was really happy to see you tonight,” you add after a moment. “I know it was only two weeks, but it felt longer than that. And with everything getting busy again soon...” You trail off, then glance up at him. “I just wanted a little more time with you, I guess.”
Valko is quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing slowly against your side. Then he shifts slightly, turning more toward you. His gaze drops to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes, and the air between you feels suddenly heavier, sweeter.
His other hand lifts slowly, and when it settles against your upper back, the touch sends a small shiver through you. Then his hand slides higher, fingers spreading gently at the back of your head, cradling you there. You feel yourself drift closer, and he does the same.
Then his lips press against yours.
The kiss is soft and warm and careful. You melt into him. One of your hands holds onto the fabric of his hoodie, your body pressing closer of its own accord as happiness blooms through you so suddenly and so completely it almost feels unreal.
When your lips part, neither of you moves far.
Then he looks at you again, his gaze is softer than before but clearer too.
“I like you too much to pretend this is nothing,” he says, his voice soft and unguarded. He holds your gaze for another second. “Tell me if this is what you want too.”
Your answer comes easily. “I do.”
A small smile touches his mouth, sweet and a little disbelieving.
Then you lean in and kiss him again.
The hand at the back of your neck stays steady as he kisses you, and when your fingers slide from his chest to curl around the back of his neck, his breath catches softly against your mouth.
His mouth parts against yours, and when your tongues meet, the sensation is warm, slow, and so intimate it makes a deep shiver run through you. The slide is unhurried at first – soft, wet strokes that make heat bloom low in your belly. His tongue brushes against yours in ways that make your toes curl and your thoughts melt away. Then he gently catches your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a soft, teasing nibble before soothing it with another slow pass of his tongue.
You make a small, helpless sound into his mouth, pressing closer, and he answers with a low hum that vibrates through you. The kiss grows deeper, more consuming, but never rushed – every stroke of his tongue leaves you dizzy, aching in the best way, your body melting even further into his hold.
When the kiss finally breaks, you stay curled against him, forehead resting lightly against his, your breaths still uneven.
Neither of you moves for a long moment.
Then you pull back to look at him. “The sofa’s not that comfortable. You can… sleep in the bed with me. If you want.”
His eyes soften, that small smile returning. “I’d like that. A lot.”
While he heads to the bathroom, you slip into your bedroom and freeze for a second. The bed is still a mess from earlier – clothes scattered everywhere from when you’d frantically tried on different loungewear before he arrived – your cheeks burn at the evidence of how much you’d wanted to look nice for him.
You move fast, scooping everything up in armfuls and jamming the pile into your closet. Then you quickly change into your own pajamas: a loose shirt and flowy shorts. From the back of your closet, you pull out the biggest oversized t-shirt you own, with a goofy graphic and a band’s name splashed across the front.
By the time Valko returns from the bathroom, you’re already settled on the now-tidied bed, heart fluttering.
You hold the oversized shirt out to him. “Here. It’s the biggest one I have.”
He takes it from you, eyes crinkling with amusement as he reads the front. “Nice choice,” he teases. “Didn’t know you were a fan.”
You roll your eyes. “Shut up and just put it on.”
Instead of stepping out, Valko stays right there in front of you. With that easy confidence of his, he reaches back and tugs the hoodie off in one smooth motion. The movement pulls his t-shirt up slightly underneath, revealing a glimpse of his toned stomach and the sharp cut of his hips before the fabric falls back into place. He peels that off too, and for a moment you forget how to breathe.
Broad shoulders, the hard strength of his arms and chest that you’ve felt against you so many times, now fully on display in the soft glow of your bedroom lamp. Your gaze traces the lines of his body before you can stop yourself, lingering on the way his muscles shift as he unfolds the oversized shirt, then dipping lower to the faint trail of hair on his lower stomach.
Then he unbuttons his jeans.
The soft sound of the zipper feels impossibly loud in the quiet room. He pushes them down his hips and steps out of them, leaving him in just his boxers. The fabric clings to the firm lines of his thighs and the unmistakable outline underneath, and your face burns. You know you should look away, but you can’t.
Valko catches you staring.
A knowing smile curves his mouth, “Enjoying the show?”
You immediately avert your gaze. “No.”
You turn off the last light and climb into bed.
He chuckles softly and finally pulls the t-shirt over his head. A moment later he joins you, pulling the blanket over both of you as he settles on his side facing you.
For a second, you just look at each other in the low glow of moonlight from the window. Then he reaches out, sliding an arm around your waist and drawing you closer until your bodies press together again.
“You okay?” he asks softly, the same careful warmth in his voice from earlier.
You nod, tucking your face against his chest, breathing him in. “Yeah.”
He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head… then another to your forehead… then, when you tilt your face up, to your lips.
This kiss starts slow and sweet, like the first one, but the closeness of the bed changes everything. Your hands find his chest again, sliding over the soft, worn fabric of your own shirt on him. He tastes like toothpaste, and the warmth of his body pressed against yours under the covers makes your head spin. One of your hands drifts up to the back of his neck, fingers threading gently into his hair, while his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you even closer until your legs tangle together.
A soft sound escapes you when his hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, palm warm and broad against the bare skin of your lower back. The touch is gentle, almost reverent, but it sends a slow shiver through you all the same. He pauses there, thumb stroking small circles against your spine, as if checking whether you want him to stop.
When you press closer instead, he lets his hand explore further, sliding up the curve of your back, mapping the warmth of your skin like he’s been wanting to do this for just as long as you have.
The kiss breaks only so you can both catch your breath, but his mouth doesn’t go far. He trails soft, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then lower to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. When his teeth graze there lightly, your breath hitches.
“Still okay?” he whispers, voice husky now, lips brushing your skin with every word.
“Yes,” you manage, a little breathless. “Don’t stop.”
Valko makes a low, pleased sound deep in his chest. His hands slide to your waist, and with gentle strength he rolls you both over so you’re on top. He helps you settle, guiding your legs until you’re straddling his hips.
For a moment you brace yourself on your hands, hovering just slightly above him. Your heart is racing – nervous, excited, and suddenly worried about settling your full weight on top of him.
Valko looks up at you. One of his hands stays on your hip while the other smooths slowly up your back.
“Come here…” he murmurs. “All of you.”
When you hesitate for half a second, he adds gently, “Just relax.”
Carefully, you lower yourself until your full weight rests on him. The moment your chest presses fully against his, a quiet sigh escapes both of you. He feels so solid beneath you – the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his skin, the firm strength of his body supporting yours so easily. Your legs settle on either side of his hips, and the intimate press of him right between your thighs makes heat bloom low in your belly.
Valko’s arms wrap around you immediately, one hand splaying wide across your lower back, the other sliding up between your shoulder blades to hold you closer. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck with a deep inhale, breathing you in.
For a long moment you just stay like that – bodies aligned, hearts beating against each other. Then he gently nudges your face with his, and you tilt your head down to meet him.
His lips move against yours, and when the kiss deepens, it happens gradually – tongues brushing, mouths opening wider, breaths growing a little heavier. The weight of you on top of him, the way your bodies fit together so completely, makes everything feel more intense. You can feel the hard line of him pressed right against your core, and the sensation sends little sparks of pleasure through you with every tiny movement.
Still a little shy, still a little uncertain, you roll your hips in one slow, experimental movement. The friction drags right where you need it most, pulling a soft, involuntary sound from your throat. Valko groans – low, rough, and completely unguarded – the sound vibrating against your mouth. His arms tighten around you instantly, and the way he pulls you down against him makes it clear just how much he felt that.
“Fuck…” he breathes against your lips. “Do that again.”
Emboldened by his reaction, you roll your hips again, grinding down against him. The pleasure sparks sharper, deeper. You can feel every inch of him through the thin layers of fabric separating you, and the way his body responds – the way he twitches underneath you – makes your stomach flutter.
Valko meets you on the next roll. He rocks his hips up into yours in a slow, deep rhythm, pressing firmly against your core with each movement. His hold on you never loosens – he keeps you flush against his chest, bodies moving together in a slow, rolling grind.
The kiss grows sloppier, hotter – tongues slide deeper, mouths open wider, little wet sounds mixing with your shared breathing. You feel his heartbeat hammering against yours.
“You feel so good on top of me,” he murmurs. “Keep moving just like that, baby.”
Valko’s hands are everywhere. One stays anchored on your hip, guiding your movements, while the other slips under your pajama shirt, palming the soft skin of your back, then sliding down to squeeze your ass. He pulls you down harder against him on every roll, making sure you feel exactly how hard he is.
Then his hand moves between your bodies.
He presses two fingers against the front of your shorts, right over your core. The moment he touches you, you realize just how soaked you are. The fabric is warm and damp, clinging to you, and the pressure of his fingers makes the wetness even more obvious. A flush of embarrassed heat rushes through you, but it only makes you ache more.
Valko groans deeply into your mouth, the sound raw. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs. He rubs slow circles over the soaked fabric, pressing just right against your clit through the layers. The sensation makes your hips jerk, a sharp little whimper escaping you.
He pulls back from the kiss just enough to look at you, breathing hard. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, but there’s a flicker of hesitation there too. His throat works as he swallows, and when he speaks, his voice has the slightest tremble in it.
“Still okay?” he asks, fingers still gently pressing against your soaked shorts. He pauses, searching your face. “Can I…?”
You nod quickly, cheeks burning. “Yeah,” you whisper, barely audible. “Please.”
A soft, relieved breath escapes him.
He shifts just enough to reach between you. With one hand, he tugs his boxers down far enough to free himself, his cock springing up hot and heavy against your inner thigh. With the other, he hooks his fingers into the crotch of your pajama shorts and panties, tugging the soaked fabric to the side. The cool air hits your slick, exposed folds for only a second before the blunt, burning heat of his tip presses right against your entrance.
The slight sting of his girth against your sensitive opening makes you inhale sharply. Still, your thighs tremble as you fight the instinct to sink down all at once.
Valko’s eyes never leave your face. His breath is shaky, his grip on your hip almost bruising as he visibly holds himself back from thrusting up.
“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and strained. “Just relax… I’ve got you. Trust me.”
He rocks his hips up in the tiniest, careful movement, letting just the head slip inside you. The stretch is intense – a burning, aching fullness that makes your mouth fall open on a quiet, broken sound. You feel every thick inch as he slowly works you open, his eyes locked on yours the entire time, watching every flicker of sensation across your face.
Another shallow thrust, and he sinks a little deeper. His hand on your hip keeps guiding you down slowly, patiently, even as his own breath trembles and a low groan escapes his lips. You can feel how much he’s holding back – the tension in his arms, the way his fingers dig into your skin, the way his cock twitches inside you with the effort of going slow.
He presses his forehead to yours, nuzzling your nose, his voice dropping to a whisper between heavy breaths.
“Just a little more… that’s it. You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.”
He keeps guiding you with those slow, shallow thrusts, working himself deeper. Each gentle push stretches you further, the thick heat of him dragging against your walls in a way that makes your breath hitch and your fingers curl against his shoulders. The slight sting is still there, but it’s slowly melting into something warmer, fuller, more overwhelming.
Finally, with one last careful roll of his hips, he bottoms out completely.
A soft, broken sound escapes you as he fills you to the hilt. Your walls flutter around him, clenching instinctively at the overwhelming sensation of being so completely taken.
Valko goes very still beneath you, breathing hard against your neck.
He whispers your name. “Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?”
You take a shaky breath, then nod against his shoulder, melting a little more in his embrace. “I’m okay,” you murmur, voice soft and a little breathless.
The tension in his body eases at your words. He pulls you even closer, if that’s possible, until there isn’t a single inch of space left between your bodies. Your breasts press against his chest, your stomach against his, your thighs snug around his hips.
“Just stay like this for a moment,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “Let me feel you… all of you.”
You melt into him completely.
He starts kissing you again – first pressing his lips to yours, tender and sweet. Then to your flushed cheek. Then along the line of your jaw. When he reaches your neck, he lingers there, nuzzling into the sensitive skin with a deep inhale, breathing in the scent of you as his lips trail soft, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your throat. Every kiss sends warm little sparks through your body, making you shiver and clench around him.
You feel completely surrounded by him. He makes you feel soft and safe and wanted in a way you’ve never quite felt before.
After a few long, still moments of just feeling each other, Valko starts to move.
He rolls his hips up in one slow thrust, pressing himself even deeper inside you. The drag of his thick length against your walls pulls a shaky moan from your throat. He does it again, and again – careful but steady, letting you feel every inch as he fills you completely with each roll.
You start moving with him.
Your hips begin to roll in a slow rhythm, grinding down to meet his upward thrusts. The pace is yours, and he lets you set it. Every time you sink down onto him, his cock grazes all the right spots inside you, sending sparks of sharp pleasure through your core. You can feel how wet you are – how your slick coats him completely, making every slide smoother, wetter, hotter. You angle your hips just right so that with every downward roll, your clit grinds against his pelvis. The added friction makes your thighs tremble. Pleasure builds fast and heavy, coiling tight in your belly with every movement.
You can’t stop looking at him.
Even in the low, dim light of your bedroom, he looks devastating. His eyes are heavy-lidded, dark with lust, but locked on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a single detail. His lips are parted and glistening, soft groans and quiet curses falling from them every time you sink down on him. His hair is slightly messy from your fingers, and the way his jaw clenches when you roll your hips harder makes your heart stutter.
You roll your hips faster, chasing that building pleasure with every grind of your clit against his pelvis and every deep stroke of his cock inside you. The slick sounds of your bodies meeting grow louder, wetter with every movement. Your walls flutter and clench around his thick length, coating him even more with your arousal as the pressure inside you coils tighter and tighter.
A broken moan of his name slips from your lips – “Valko...” – raw and needy. The sound of it makes your cheeks burn – you feel suddenly exposed like this, riding him so shamelessly, your voice sounding so desperate, your body moving on instinct. The wave of pleasure is cresting dangerously close, and the intensity of it makes you shy for a moment.
You duck your head, hiding your face in the warm crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you keep rolling your hips.
You know Valko notices. Instead of pulling you back, he cradles the back of your head with one large hand. His voice is full of affection as he murmurs against your ear.
“You can stay right here, sweetheart. Just feel it… That’s it. Come for me.”
His words, the steady praise mixed with the way he keeps thrusting up to meet your rolling hips, push you right over the edge.
With one more deep grind of your hips, your orgasm crashes through you. Pleasure surges hot and overwhelming, ripping a muffled, trembling cry from your throat against his neck. Your walls clamp down hard around his cock, pulsing and fluttering. Your thighs shake, slick gushing around him as you come hard, soaking his length and pelvis. Valko groans deeply, the sound vibrating against your chest, and holds you even tighter, his hips still moving with yours – slow, deep rolls that help you ride out every last pulse of pleasure.
Your hips gradually slow, then finally still as the last ripples of your orgasm fade into a warm, glowing haze. You stay draped over him, breathing hard against his neck, your heart still racing wildly in your chest.
After a few long seconds, you finally gather the courage to lift your head from its hiding place. Your face is glistening with sweat, your cheeks are burning, your hair slightly messy as you meet his gaze. You’re still catching your breath, lips parted, eyes a little dazed.
When your eyes lock, the intense heat in Valko’s gaze melts into something more tender. A small, gentle smile curves his lips as he looks up at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. The hand that had been cradling the back of your head slides forward to graze your cheek with his thumb, stroking it with slow affection.
“There you are…” he murmurs, voice low and fond. “Hi, pretty girl.”
He searches your face for a moment. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, thumb continuing its gentle caress. “Do you want to keep going?”
You feel a sheepish little smile tug at your lips. You nod, still a bit breathless, cheeks warming even more under his attentive gaze.
“Yes,” you whisper.
His smile deepens, soft and warm. “You want me to take over?”
You nod again, a little quicker this time. “Yes, please.”
Valko’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, an almost reverent smile curving his lips as he takes in the sight of you in front of him.
“Just relax for me,” he whispers against your temple, pressing a lingering kiss there. “Tell me if it gets too much, okay?”
After you nod, Valko doesn’t waste another second.
He captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss as he begins to move beneath you. His hips roll up in long thrusts, driving his thick cock deeper into your soaked heat with every stroke. One arm stays locked around your back, pressing your chest flush against his, while his other hand keeps your shorts and underwear tugged to the side so he can fuck you properly.
He keeps kissing you through it – slow and messy, tongues sliding together as his pace gradually picks up. His breath grows heavier against your lips, and between kisses he whispers –
“Am I doing good? Tell me… fuck, I need to hear it.”
You’re already losing yourself in the rhythm of his thrusts, the way his cock stretches and fills you so perfectly. The answer slips out of you in a hazy, breathless mumble, half-coherent and soaked in pleasure.
“You feel so good…” you moan, voice breaking. “Fuck – you’re so big… filling me up so deep…”
Valko groans loudly at your words, the sound low and guttural. His grip on you tightens, and his thrusts grow a little harder, a little faster, driving up into you with more purpose. The wet slap of skin on skin grows louder as he fucks you deeper, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot with devastating precision.
“Yeah? You like how deep I’m fucking you?” he rasps against your lips, voice thick with lust. “You’re taking me so well… so wet and tight around my cock. I could stay buried in you forever.”
You whimper at his filthy words, clenching hard around him. He keeps that perfect rhythm, holding you close, kissing you like he never wants to stop, while his cock drives into you again and again, pushing you closer and closer to the edge once more.
You can feel him starting to throb inside you, his rhythm beginning to falter as he gets closer to the edge. His thrusts grow a little rougher, a little more desperate.
He must feel how you’re close too, because your hips have started moving on their own, grinding down to meet every thrust. His breath stutters against your mouth.
“You close again, baby?” he groans, voice strained and low. “Fuck… I can feel you squeezing me so tight.”
You nod frantically, whimpering as another wave of pleasure builds fast and hot. “Yes – I’m close… please, Valko, go faster – ”
He clenches his jaw, a deep, guttural sound escaping him as he tries to hold back. His hips snap up harder, but you can tell he’s right on the edge.
“I’m too close,” he rasps, almost apologetic, still fucking you deep and steady. “If I go faster, I’m not gonna last – ”
“It’s okay,” you breathe, voice trembling with need as you roll your hips down to take him even deeper. “It’s fine, just – don’t stop. Please.”
Valko lets out a wrecked moan, his grip on you tightening almost painfully. He buries his face in your neck for a second, breathing you in, then pulls back just enough to look at you with dark, desperate eyes.
“Where can I finish?” he asks, voice hoarse and filthy. “Where do you want me?”
Without hesitation, still grinding down on his cock, you whisper against his lips –
“Inside. I want you to come inside me.”
Valko’s control finally snaps.
With a deep, guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt in a few hard, fast thrusts. You feel every powerful spurt as he fills you up, warm and wet, his cock twitching deep in your pussy while he keeps rolling his hips in sloppy thrusts, pushing his release even deeper.
The sensation of him coming inside you sends a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. You’re right on the edge again, but you stay still for him, letting him use you however he needs, your body soft and pliant on top of his as he rides out the last pulses of his orgasm.
Then he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, voice wrecked and breathless.
“Move, baby… don’t stop. Chase it. I want to feel you come on my cock again.”
You hesitate for half a second, worried it might be too much for him, but he doesn’t let you overthink it. His hands grip your hips firmly and start guiding you, encouraging you to roll and grind on him again.
You nod, eyes locked with his, and start moving.
You ride him through the mess, feeling his warm cum leak out of you with every roll of your hips, slick and obscene, coating both of you. His cock is still hard inside you, but you can feel how oversensitive he is now – the way he twitches and throbs helplessly with every movement, like it’s almost too much.
He meets your rhythm with shallow, desperate thrusts, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise. His eyes stay locked on yours, heavy-lidded and burning, even as his breath turns ragged and broken.
Valko groans, low and wrecked. “That’s it… fuck, just like that,” he rasps, voice tight and strained. “Come on my cock, baby – you’re squeezing me so fucking tight… Good girl, so fucking good…”
It doesn’t take long.
Pleasure slams into you harder this time. You come with a trembling, broken cry, your walls clamping down around his oversensitive cock as another orgasm rips through you. The feeling of his cum leaking out around him with every pulse makes everything wetter, filthier, messier. Slick and cum mix between you as you grind down on him, thighs shaking violently.
This time you don’t hide your face. You stay right there, eyes locked with his, letting him see every second of it – the way your lips part on a silent gasp, the way your whole body shudders and tightens around him.
“Fuck – yes, baby… look at you,” he groans, voice slurred and desperate. “So fucking pretty when you come… good girl…”
His wrecked praise sends a fresh wave of heat through you, drawing out the pleasure for a few more trembling seconds. Then the intense peak of your orgasm slowly fades, leaving you utterly spent. You collapse completely on top of him, your cheek pressed against his chest as you try to catch your breath. Your body feels heavy, hot, and spent in the best possible way. Valko’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as he stays buried deep inside you, his cock still twitching with the last aftershocks. Neither of you makes any move to separate.
You nuzzle back into the crook of his neck, breathing in the comforting mix of his skin, sweat, and your own scent on him. His hands move slowly over your back in long, soothing strokes, fingertips tracing gentle patterns along your spine.
For a long while, you simply rest like that – tangled together, hearts slowing down, his warmth surrounding you completely.
Eventually, his voice breaks the comfortable silence, low and gentle against your ear.
“You okay?” he asks, still stroking your back. “Feeling alright?”
You manage a small nod against his neck, too tired and floaty to form proper words. A tiny, satisfied hum is all you can offer.
He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath you.
After a few more quiet, peaceful minutes, you finally shift. You slowly push yourself up on shaky arms and lift your hips. The moment he slips out of you, a low, disappointed groan escapes Valko’s throat. The sound is so genuine that you can’t help but let out a soft, breathless chuckle.
“We should probably clean up,” you murmur, still smiling.
He nods, but there’s a playful pout in his expression. Before you can move away, he cups your face with both hands and pulls you down into a slow, sweet kiss. It’s softer than anything that came before – gentle, lingering, and full of affection. When he pulls back, his thumbs brush over your cheeks, and his eyes are warm and tender in the afterglow.
“You feeling sleepy now?” he asks, a hint of playful teasing in his tone.
You let out a soft, embarrassed little laugh. The reality of everything that just happened is starting to settle in, making your cheeks warm all over again.
“Yeah… I think I am,” you admit.
He chuckles quietly, but then that familiar warm smile returns as he pulls you back down into his embrace. He presses a lingering kiss to the top of your head.
“I never want to let you go.” He whispers.
You melt into him again, letting yourself stay there for a moment longer, tucked safely in his arms. As his fingers keep moving gently over your skin, all you can think is that you want more of this – more nights that end with him holding you close, more stolen hours together, more of his laughter, to feel his warm hands, to see his eyes that always soften when they find yours.