#going through these past couple of years or so
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hacash · 2 days ago
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The argument demonstrated here against voting for Kamala has a couple of major, and I do mean major, logical falldowns.
Number one: saying 'I'm not advocating for Trump, I'm advocating that the people running a genocide lose an election' overlooks the crucial fact that only one of two people will be running the USA in January: Trump, or Kamala. That is just a fact. The fact that I routinely see multiple people from outside the US posting about this topic because they see US citizens either ignoring or being unaware of this fact is, frankly, a lot.
So I feel like at this point if you claim anything else could happen, you are being wilfully ignorant of the facts about how your country is run. Either Kamala or Trump is going to be running one of the most powerful countries in the world, and as a US citizen it is your job to decide which one that it. If you advocate for the Democrats to lose the election, you are advocating for the Republicans and Trump to win. It's that simple.
Number Two: 'You made it through four years of Trump and you can do it again'. Interesting point there! I feel like the woman who was killed at the Charlottesville far-right rally, the thousands who died during Trump's mishandling of COVID, any and all vulnerable immigrants in the US, the women put at risk by having abortions and certain pregnancy complications due to Roe vs Wade being dismantled, the queer kids in places like Florida vulnerable to homophobia and transphobia, any number of people put at risk by Trump slashing food safety regulations left right and centre, the Ukrainians who will be even more exposed to Russian imperialist attacks once Trump withdraws support, everyone whose lives were in danger when a fucking right-wing mob stormed the Capitol, not to mention everyone around the fucking world who may just, just be a little unsettled by Trump's deep desire to start dropping nuclear bombs on anyone who pisses him off might want a word with you there.
And that's certainly not to mention the Palestinians you claim to be supporting, who will most certainly suffer when Trump ramps up his support of Netanyahu to eleven (more on that later).
Look, I'm not saying that if the Democrats win peace will reign and everything will be perfect, but come the fuck on. I don't know if the people making this argument are literally so young that you weren't really politically conscious during Trump's presidency, but please don't insult those of us who did have to sit through the whole shitshow by saying crap like this. I don't care how sick you are of hearing it, elections mean choosing the least shitty option. If you still need it explained to you that Harris is less shitty than Trump, that is a you problem.
Number Three: 'some words and hype around what people think Trump will do' - No. I'm sorry, just no. We went through this the last time Trump became president. Trump has already shown us who he is. This is not a matter of our imaginations working overtime, this is an understanding of what will happen: based both on Trump's previous words and what he has already done in the past. Showing even more support to Netanyahu, encouraging and aiding him in his work, is not something 'people think Trump will do', it's something Trump will do. For all that you may dislike the Democrats (and I think @qqueenofhades had some good posts about Harris/Biden at least making attempts to push for peace in the room) it is bizarre at this point to pretend like Trump won't be significantly worse when it comes to supporting Netanyahu's actions.
This is a man who recognised Jerusalem as the undivided capital of Israel (leading to widespread condemnation around the world, including the UN, Arab League, and EU), said that Israel should keep on building settlements in the West Bank without stopping, and, once again, has been pals with Netanyahu since the very beginning. This is a man who thinks the answer to any problem is to send in the nukes and the gunboats, and who has made his disdain for Muslim lives painfully fucking clear. (I doubt very much that his respect for Jewish lives is that much better, but that's another post). If you don't realise that having Trump in charge of US foreign policy is only going to dramatically worsen the situation for Palestine, that is, once again, just wilful ignorance at this point.
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“Trump would be the worst,” Asmaa Nimilaat, 50, said from a hospital where thousands of people are sheltering in Deir el-Balah, an area in central Gaza. “But any candidate that becomes president will not support Palestinians.” - from the Al Jazeera article further up the post.
I feel like people wilfully focus on the second half of the quote when they should be paying attention to the first. Yes: as things stand, neither political party is doing wonders for Palestine, and that sucks. But Trump would be the worse. For America and for Palestine, and for the rest of the world. There is literally only two futures open to us now: one where Trump wins, and one where Harris wins. And Trump would be the worst. At this point, trying to keep some sort of moral superiority in excusing not doing everything you can to keep Trump out by claiming 'we don't know he'll be bad/the Democrats still suck/I don't want complicity in American imperialism' is, quite frankly, ignorant and inward-looking at this point. You have an actual chance not only to benefit yourselves (by voting in a leader who is at least halfway decent) but to make life even a little bit better for people in numerous countries around the world (who will now get to deal with the less awful version of America dominating the world stage), and the notion that some people might actively choose not to is, frankly, staggering to me.
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onlyangel4 · 3 days ago
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1. 2. 3. OP81. LS2. SMAU.
influencer!reader x logan sargeant x oscar piastri
logan's return to the paddock turns heads because he is not alone, little do people know he and his girlfriend share a big secret.
warnings: slut shaming. slightly suggestive.
faceclaim: hannah meloche
y/nvlogs posted a story
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written: something very exciting is happening today
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f1wags
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liked by user1, user2, user3 and 53,828 others
f1wags: logan sargeant has shocked us all by returning to the paddock in austin but he is not alone. he has been walking through the paddock with social media influencer y/n y/ln. y/ln has been soft launching her blonde boyfriend on social media for the past couple of months so it is safe to assume that the american pair are a couple.
view all 1,839 comments
user1: i have been a fan of y/n for years! i can't believe my worlds are colliding
user2: omg they are so fucking cute
user3: i wonder if that dog is hers then
user4: i love them already
user5: i'm just happy that logan is happy
logansargeant posted a story
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written: i've never been in here before
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y/nvlogs posted a story tagging oscarpiastri
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written: well done on p5 osc!!! that was tough one
logansargeant posted a story tagging y/nvlogs and oscarpiastri
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written: good food and even better company
oscarpiastri posted a story
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written: daisy has gotten so big
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y/nvlogs posted a story
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written: the day osc gets his pilot's license it is over for you bitches
logansargeant posted a story
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written: fishing trips with the lads
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y/nvlogs posted a story
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written: mexico has already ruined my hair and i haven't left the hotel yet
f1wags
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liked by user6, user7, user8 and 45,283 others
f1wags: something fishy is going on in the paddock. y/n y/ln (logan sargeant's girlfriend) has been pictured with oscar piastri all weekend and the pair seem to be a little bit more than friends.
view all 3,293 comments
user6: not only did logan lose his seat he may lose his girlfriend to one of his closest friends
user7: i hope logan is okay
user8: the way she looks at him that girl has to be in love with him
user9: i think they are just close friends and you guys are jumping to conclusions
user10: logan doesn't seem phased he just tweeted congratulating oscar on his race result
op81updates posted a story
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written: oscar and y/n spotted at dinner, i love oscar but i can't support this
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oscarpiastri
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liked by landonorris, alexalbon, y/nvlogs and 2,109,281 others
tagged: logansargeant. y/nvlogs.
oscarpiastri: can twitter please stop calling our girlfriend a whore
view all 231,102 comments
y/nvlogs: i can be a whore 4 u
logansargeant: darling be careful you will make his brain short circuit
oscarpiastri: you are going to get me sentenced to pr training
logansargeant: the best six months of my life
oscarpiastri: agreed
user11: SIX MONTHS THIS MEANS THEY WERE TOGETHER WHEN LOGAN WAS ON THE GRID WTAF ARE WE BLIND
landonorris: this has been the biggest secret i have ever kept in my entire life
y/nvlogs: proud of you lan
user12: everyone on twitter calling a y/n a whore when really she is living the dream
user13: i have no one to freak out about this with
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aakeysmash · 2 days ago
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you and college!sukuna see each other at a party
college!sukuna masterlist
Going to the same college as college!sukuna means you inevitably see each other at a couple of parties you both attend to. It doesn’t happen that much, because you and him are both heavily set on sitting on your living room couch doing absolutely nothing the majority of the nights, and you try to ignore each other when you know you’re going to be in the same place out of the house. But when Sukuna manages to leave Yuuji at one of his classmates’ houses for a sleepover, his friends get a whiff of the news and drag him out of the apartment.
He does put up a fight about it, because Sukuna being Sukuna, he hates parties; even more if he has to pay for a ticket before entering. The rancid smell of alcohol mixed with sweat makes him want to punch someone. Not to mention girls always try to get in his pants, and while in the past that would have stroked his ego, now he finds himself annoyed by it. The chicks seem to be copies of each other: really short dresses, really long batting lashes, really dragged out alcohol induced words and he really doesn’t care about any of their tits pressed on his arm.
You, on the other hand, hate men who touch you on the dance floor. Your girls convince you to hit the club every time (“every time” probably being less than 3 times in the whole year) because they say you will have “so much fun”, but your definition of fun isn’t being groped by a guy you don’t even think attends your college to begin with.
Today you find yourself searching for the bar after the last guy who tried to squeeze your ass almost got kicked in the balls by you. You plop down on a bar stool and absentmindedly order a drink (of course there’s fruit in it), and while you wait for the barman to serve you, you take out your phone from your purse. You scroll on your socials, getting bored in 5 minutes, and while you softly tap on the counter with your freshly done nails you decide you had enough.
Message to: Worst roommate ever: is Yuuji home?
The message gets through but doesn’t get read. You roll your eyes, thinking he’s probably busy doing absolutely nothing inside the apartment. You feel so jealous.
“Come on man, you’ve been here like… two hours,” comes a male voice behind you. You don’t bother turning around, resorting to sipping your drink before swirling the straw around. “Just take someone home and relax,” the boy continues. You scrunch your nose. That’s a disgusting thing to say.
“You mean I’ve already been here two hours. I’ve had fucking enough. I’m going home. Alone,” someone responds, biting rough voice getting closer to you. From the corner of your eye, you see someone slamming one of their elbows on the counter right next to you, and you scoot over away from them. You don’t want to interact with anyone unless they taste like sweet fruit and they’re called “passion fruit mojitos”.
“But whyyy,” the first guy asks, trying to reason with his apparently leaving friend.
“Because I got 10 pairs of tits shoved in my fucking face in the last 20 minutes,” the second one barks out, ordering a gin tonic when he spots the barman. Basic ass.
Suddenly, you receive a text.
Worst roommate ever: no. sleepin over at some kid’s
You sigh. You’re sure you’d have more fun if Yuuji dragged you into one of his latest hobbies. That’s it, you’re still going home, even if you’ll be bored to death either way. You turn around for a split second to leave a tip to the barman when you recognise the pink head next to you. Sukuna has his back turned to you, so he hasn’t seen you yet. You try to sneakily go away, not wanting to interrupt the conversation he’s having with a man you think you’ve seen him with on campus, when you tell yourself that if he really wants to go home you could go home together. At least you’re going to save the money you would’ve given to the uber. You touch his shoulder to get his attention.
“Hey-“
“God wants this to be the day I sock a bitch to the ER,” you hear him grit out. His friend, you think he’s called Geto, winces. Then, still turned away, the tattooed man continues with “I don’t fucking care about your pussy, get the fuck out.”
You slap him on the back of his head.
“Is this the same mouth you kiss your mother with?” You exclaim, feigning shock.
“What the fuck?” He whips his head around and you see how his expression turns from an annoyed one to a confused one. He rolls his eyes.
“You know damn well my mother is dead,” he says. You see his friend’s eyes pop out of his sockets. This is not something you say to a stranger. “I almost broke your nose. Don’t play with me,” your almost-roommate says, one side of his mouth lightly raised, as if he’s actually disgusted about seeing you here, completely facing you. Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.
“You should have. I would’ve had a reason to kick you out,” you seethe.
“Oh really? Then who would’ve opened the door for your sorry ass the next time you forget your keys?” He tells you, his face getting closer to yours, menacingly. The friend he still has next to him watches the scene in front of him with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s not my fault they’re never where I think I left them,” you mumble, frowning.
He smirks. “I should’ve known it was you when you’re the only one up here with a yellow fruity drink. Pussy,” he says, louder, to make you hear every word above the music.
“Fuck you and your basic gin tonic ass.”
He grins. “Baby, have some manners. We can’t have you dirtying your criminal record with sex in public, can we?” He says, lightly caressing your cheek with his index finger. You swat his hand away, glaring at him the meanest way you can. Meanwhile, another guy you recognise as Satoru reaches the barstool. He greets you and gives Geto a questioning look, to which the other responds mouthing “Who is this girl?”. Satoru just shakes his head, giving you a knowing look.
You get back to looking over at your roommate. “Wanna go home?” You ask him, features relaxing. You just want to go home, with or without him, and sleep until tomorrow.
He chuckles. “You’re not helping your case if you say it like that.”
You shrug. “I guess that’s a no,” you say, getting your purse and standing up, heels clicking toward the exit. When you don’t hear him follow you you turn around, and he levels you with a bored look. “Oh okay, so I guess you want the landlord to come knocking at your door tomorrow morning and say you’ll have to pay full rent since I was brutally killed by some random dude this uneventful night, all because you didn’t want to come home,” you almost scream, trying to get your words across the thumping of the bass, turning back around and resuming your walk. You already shot your friends a text saying you’ll be going back with Sukuna, anyway.
“No, wait- come on baby, don’t be like that,” he whines, rushing up his stool and following you. He waves his friends goodbye with a flick of his wrist, and you shoot them a small smile when you pass by them. You and Sukuna continue bickering while getting out of the club. He tries to grab your head and fakes bashing it against the wall, and you push him away jokingly, smiling up at his badly concealed grin. He puts one hand in his jacket’s pocket, the other one grazing your small back to keep you from bumping into random drunk guys. You don’t even seem to notice the gesture, and he doesn’t seem to realise he’s doing it either. Suguru and Satoru are still watching you two, albeit a little dumbfounded.
“So? Who’s the one that got big captain whining?” Asks Suguru, drinking the gin tonic Sukuna left behind. Sukuna leaving a paid drink behind? After not touching a single girl since he came this night but leaving with you three minutes into a conversation? You must be something, for sure.
“Someone he claims to be a pain in the ass,” answers Satoru, chuckling.
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rueclfer · 1 day ago
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everything is embarrassing // izuku midoriya
when he doesn't know how to take control of his life
a/n: 6k+ words lmao i feel crazzzzzy ok bye
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19-year-old izuku doesn't have the privilege of hopping around college parties on the weekends or enjoy the “college experience” like his friends do.
he can barely catch a break to breathe.
monday through friday he's in classes from 8:00am to 4:00pm, and for more than half of the week from 6:00pm to 12:00am, he's working at the campus library- simultaneously shelving returns, organizing files, and scrambling to finish his homework. on the weekends, he'll be at his part time job at the local cafe just down the street from his dorm building.
it hasn't been an easy semester for izuku. he's a year behind his friends and he wants nothing more than to be able to walk across that stage with them by the end of their fourth year, but nothing comes easy when you’ve been out of school for a year, no money, have a scholarship on the line, and a single mother at home to make proud.
he's watching the time go by. his eyes darting back and forth between the ticking needle on the analog clock and you sitting at your usual table with your headphones on, attention glued to your textbook, and the tapping of your pencil growing louder by the second.
occasionally, he'd let himself clock out and lock up about 5-10 minutes early if there was no one lingering around on his floor, and all of the day's work had been completed. no one stays as late in the library as you do. it annoys him. 
5-10 minutes is crucial to izuku.
he could get a head-start on his commute back to his dorm. if he walks quickly enough, he'd be back before 12:15am, be ready for bed by 12:35am, and he'd be able to get at least 6 hours of sleep.
if he's lucky.
but you. you were always there until the very last minute- sometimes even past closing.
it's 12:05am. how could anyone be so careless to not keep an eye on the time? can’t you see that it’s only you two left on this floor? did you not hear the 10 minute closing warning on the intercom?
if he wasn't running on a couple hour of sleep, a poor excuse for dinner, and 6 hours worth of brain numbing work, he wouldn't have the nerves to approach you so casually. he'd be replaying what he wanted to say in his head, stumbling over his words, and hope you wouldn't take offense to it.
"the library's closed." he bluntly says, still maintaining a few feet of distance.
you don't hear him or notice his presence at all. you're lost in that textbook and your mind is fumbling through these terms and definitions staring back at you.
izuku blinks once. then twice.
"hey." he starts again, taking a step closer and setting a hand down on the table right above your textbook.
you look up and catch the library worker’s tired eyes. your gaze immediately flickers to the analog clock hung on the wall past his shoulder.
12:12am
“oh shit!” you exclaim, ripping off your headphones. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, i lost track of time.”
you slam your textbook shut, rubbing your eyes against the back of your hand. how long had you been at it like this? studying the hours away in your own corner of the library?
“yeah.” izuku breathily chuckles, a sense of relief washing over him as he watches you haphazardly shove your books and papers in your bag. “sorry, i hate to interrupt a good study session, but i’m kinda tired, and if i stay here for another minute, the shelves might start talking to me.”
“god, don’t be sorry. i get it.” you laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “i’m here, like, everyday. i’m sure everyone who works here is sick of me by now.”.
“yeah, me too.” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as you two make your way towards the exit. “here everyday, that is.” he quips, nervously running a hand through his tousled hair.
“look at us, so scholarly.” your voice dripping in sarcasm. you turn your head over your shoulder to meet his eye. “paying so much money for this university to drain us of all joy in life.”
“well, i’m on a scholarship.” izuku mutters. “so i guess i still have some joy left?
“yeah? well that’s actually even worse.” 
“is it?” he cocks an eyebrow.
“you have much more to lose.”
-
the next time you two see each other, he’s knelt over an open filing cabinet, digging through dividers for some sort of paperwork. 
since that night you’ve met, university life has felt a bit less lonely- something about taking a 20 minute walk to your dorm buildings, which happens to be right next to each other, complaining about how terrible of time you’re having adjusting to university life really brings people together.
“hey.” you cough.
izuku looks up to see you sporting a coffee cup in each hand.
“oh. it’s you. hey.”
you hold one out to him, waiting for him to take it, but all he does is give you a blank stare as his eyes flicker between your own and the cup outreached towards him.
“take it.” you chuckle. “i brought it for you. you looked like shit last time i saw you, so...”
the corners of his mouth quirks up into a smile, gingerly accepting the hot cup of coffee.
“...so this is your apology for staying past closing the other night?” he teases.
“oh definitely not.” you scoff. “i’ll be doing it again tonight too, don’t you worry.”
he nods his head, taking a deep swig of the bittersweet coffee. “see you at midnight, then.”
“see you at midnight.” you confirm, sending him a smile as you pull your headphones over your ear and head towards the back of the library where your designated table was waiting for you.
-
at 21-years-old, izuku goes to his first house party. it takes you about a week to convince him to give you one of his saturday nights that he’d usually reserve for studying or catching up on sleep.
“please.” you beg once more. “what are you going to say to your future students? how are you going to say you had the college experience without going to a single party?”
“with a degree?” he chuckles, slinging a rag over his shoulder. “you’re also distracting me. i’m on the clock, and my boss can come back anytime, you know.”
“oh, please.” you roll your eyes. “if toshinori was here, he’d be telling you to put your big boy pants on and get drunk with his favorite customer tonight. and if you agreed the first time i asked, i wouldn’t have to follow you to your second place of employment.”
“i’m sorry, i can’t. maybe next time?”
“please, izuku, just one party. i’ll help you get ready after your shift. we’ll leave anytime you want, but i can guarantee you’ll have so much fun. i promise i’ll never ask you again if you really do end up hating it.”
he can imagine it now- if someone asked him about his college experience, he wouldn’t mention the parties, the professors, or the time spent away from home. he’d talk about you.
izuku has a hard time balancing his life between keeping up with the workload and trying to not let his days blend into a muddy gray, but you had perfectly fit somewhere in between all of the chaos like a fresh breath of air.
izuku was tired, and you were a shot of espresso. how can he say no to you?
“fine.” he sighs in defeat, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter towards you. “but i can’t be out that late, okay? i have to be back here in the morning.”
-
“what the fuck happened?” you slam the door shut behind you, muffling out chatter of the crowd and heavy bass shaking through the walls. 
you twist a wad of toilet paper into a cone before plugging the stream of blood gushing from his nose.
“sorry, sorry, sorry!” he repeats, holding the toilet paper in place with a bewildered look in his eyes. 
“i don’t know what happened,” he starts in a nasally tone “maybe it’s all the smoke in the air or something. i heard that second hand smoke can be really drying for your nasal passages, especially if there’s not a lot of ventilation like in this apartment, i also haven’t been drinking a lot of water today and-”
“aht!” you interrupt, nudging him over with your elbow to rinse your hands off from the bloody residue. “my theory is that your body is shutting down on itself from the lack of proper sleep and nutrition. thoughts?”
izuku pouts. “stop it. i had a protein shake before we came, remember?”
“of course, how could i forget about the most rancid concoction you managed to blend together?” you mutter, wetting a wad of toilet paper and dabbing away the dried blood that had fallen onto his chin and t-shirt.
he cocks an eyebrow at you, holding up the red solo cup containing a questionable blue liquid that you shoved in his hands to hold when his nose started dripping blood. 
“wow, since when were you a chem major? since you know so much about ‘rancid concoctions,’ huh?” he deadpans.
“izuku midoriya, are you getting sassy with me?” you scoff, grabbing the cup back from his hands.
“maybe i am.” he presses his lips together to suppress a smirk. “or maybe i’m just making an observation.”
izuku had finally started learning how to bite back. somewhere within the last year, the skittish library worker who you enjoyed pestering had grown the confidence to return your relentless teasing.
you weren’t sure how to take it- how giddy it made you feel and how much more of it you wanted to draw out of him.
to him, it was all a front. he perfected the line delivery with ease, but at the cost of his chest tightening and stomach turning over the sight of your amused smile and lit up eyes. this made him anxious.
you have much more to lose
everytime he sees you, he’s reminded of your very first conversation together when you were first years. he’s acutely aware of how much he has to lose, but if there’s one thing izuku could not bear to risk losing during the worst few years of his life, it was you.
“uh, why are you looking at me like that?” he nervously chuckles, his ears growing hot from trailing your eyes as they glaze over his face.
“i love you.” you smile, the alcohol finally making its way to your head. “a lot.”
izuku’s breathing stops for a moment. his eyes widen, and the nervous giggles continue pouring out as his facade from minutes earlier crumbles completely.
“why are you laughing?” you chuckle, taking a sip from your cup, choking back a grimace.
“i…i don’t know.” he bites his bottom lip, suddenly aware of his nervous habit. “you’re just being a silly drunk right now."
“what? because i said i love you?” you cock your head with a lazy smile “the L-word got your panties in a twist?”
“don’t know what you mean.” he turns his attention back to the mirror, subtly swiping his sweaty palms on his thighs before unplugging the tissue from his nose. 
for the first time in his life, he’s simultaneously grateful and regretful for alcohol. grateful for the red sheen over his face to mask his blush. regretful for the carelessness it caused you with your words. 
he doesn’t have the time or energy to entertain it. that is the one thing he’s certain of. he wouldn’t be good for you- wouldn’t give you the time and attention you deserved. he loves you too. he loves you enough to not say it back.
“it stopped bleeding. i think i’ll have to leave soon, so let’s get back out there, yeah? i’ll make you a better drink, too.”
he shoots you a forced grin before grabbing you by the shoulders and ushering you two back to the party where you reunite with your roommates and mutual friends. you leave your drink in the bathroom.
-
on the day izuku turns 22-years-old, he finds out that he’s on track to graduate with you and his friends. after stepping out for a quick phone call with his academic advisor, he drunkenly cries into your shoulder mid-birthday party (that his boss at the cafe forced him to take the time off to have).
all of the hard work and courses he packed on during his first two years at university finally paid off. though, that doesn't mean he’s gotten any easier on himself.
he quits his job at the library and starts student teaching part time at the local middle school for college credit.
you barely see him now-a-days. more often than not, your texts go unanswered.
izuku is a busy guy.
you miss him. you didn't realize how lonely it felt to walk back to your dorm from the library at midnight by yourself- you haven't felt this way for a while, not since you met izuku. 
you wished he made it easier for you. your feelings for him never subsides, but instead grows into a longing ache. it’ll be like this until graduation. the occasional text message, running into each other in the halls with quick hello and goodbye, coming into his weekend job just to see him for a few reassuring moments- you know you both needed it.
he talks about you to his students a lot- “my best friend,” “someone important to me,” “my support system,” and etc. he’s always referring to you.
he missed seeing you all the time, but it’s all been so hectic for him he hates to admit that you barely cross his mind when he’s in the midst of a busy day. on top of his regular grueling school work, he has to lesson-plan for the days he’s teaching, grade papers, as well as check in with his professors and mentors.
he doesn’t know how he does it.
working in that library was excruciating, but he missed nothing more than the last half hour of his shifts where it’d just be you two, sending shy glances at one another until it hit midnight. he doesn’t even mind the rest of the 6 hour shift where you’re just sitting in the same spot that you always gravitate towards, head in the textbook for him to look up at every now and then.
you tell him you love him for the second time at the end of your graduation party when all of the guests have cleared out of your half empty apartment.
“what?” his eyes go wide, exactly like they did a year ago.
“i love you, izuku.” you ball the sides of your graduation gown, wrinkling the fabric in your hands.
you’re sober this time, which makes it infinitely more painful to say out loud.
his mouth gapes open as if he’s a fish gasping for water. he doesn’t know what to say.
“i have for years.” you fill in the silence, fidgeting with the silky material. “ever since you kicked me out of that fucking library, i think. i don’t know. maybe i’m being stupid, but i can’t help it. i love you, and i need you to know before… you know.”
it’s been three years, and you’ve waited until this night to pour it all out because you knew that in less than 24 hours, you’d be going your separate ways.
in a perfect situation, izuku would tell you that he feels the same. he’d run through an airport to stop you from leaving and beg you to stay with him. you wouldn’t have to go back home. you’d share an apartment. live in the city. start your entry jobs. you’d have time together.
“i’m sorry.” is all he says. “i’m sorry.” he repeats.
tears well in his eyes, and he grabs you by the shoulders to pull you into his chest.
“sheesh, you’re such a crybaby.” you choke out a half chuckle, your eyes running hot now. “don’t be sorry, okay? i get it. i know.”
your arms tightly wrap around izuku’s waist as you two silently sob into one another. his hand runs through your hair, stopping at the nape of your neck to pull you closer.
there’s something much more painful behind this confession to cry about. you’re leaving the city, and you have no reason to stay. for the first time in three years, izuku won’t be within arm’s reach and you’re left with the cold reality of navigating your future without your best friend by your side.
“you know, i..” he begins, pulling you back to look at your face, searching for the right words, or an answer. “it’s not that i don’t feel the same, okay?” 
his cheeks lightly dust over pink. it’s the first time he’s admitted that out loud.
“i know.” you sadly smile, your hand reaching up to wipe away the stray tears left on his cheeks. “we’ll be okay. we worked hard for this, izuku.”
izuku felt like throwing up. he had spent the last three years working himself into the ground with endless all-nighters, black coffees, and missed events to get everything he’s ever wanted for his future, so why does it feel like his world is slipping from between his fingers?
yes, he worked hard, but he wondered if it was all enough?
“i’m going to miss you.” he mutters, connecting your foreheads together. “i already do. you’re everything to me.”
“me more. i’ll miss you more.”
after that night, you don’t see izuku again for a long time. 
izuku jumps into his new position at the local high school in the same school district as the middle school he worked at during his last year of university. he feels a sense of relief everytime he walks into his school building- something that he couldn’t ever say during his years as a student.
you move back home and land an entry job at a startup tech company. it’s boring work, but at least it’s remote and your days don’t mesh into one- you made sure you would never have to go through that again.
you try to stay connected, but work is busy, and you’re both trying to figure out what life is supposed to look like post-grad. occasionally, you’ll send each other a meaningless “thinking of you” message, but you eventually lose contact after a couple of years of trying to plan visits and meet ups- there is just no time. there never was.
-
at 27-years-old, izuku is spending his late afternoon sitting in his empty classroom with one of his students. it’s half an hour past their scheduled parent-teacher conference time, and he’s wondering if he should just reschedule.
“are you sure your mom is coming? did you tell her the right time and date?” izuku sighs, resting his head on a propped elbow.
“duh. what kind of student do you think i am?” they scoff, glancing up at him from their phone.
“judging by your grades, i know exactly the kind of student you are.” he mumbles.
izuku’s trying to not panic, the kid clearly isn’t, but he’s wondering how far back this sets his schedule. he should be starting on the stack of papers to grade by now. he still needs to write out a lesson plan for tomorrow. maybe the kids deserve a movie day? maybe he deserves a movie day.
“don’t freak out.” izuku hears from outside of his door “you’re fine. it’s okay. seriously, chill the fuck out you weren’t interrupting anything, i needed a break anyways. i’m walking in right now. yeah, i’ll let you know how it goes.”
finally.
izuku straightens up, and tightens his tie. he whips open his laptop and pulls up the tabs of grades and assignments to discuss.
“i’m so sorry-” the voice falters at the end as it enters the classroom.
“don’t be, i was just-” izuku glances up from his screen and his throat suddenly closes shut.
5 years later, and the universe leads you back to one another. here. in his classroom.
“izuku midoriya?” you cough out.
for the first time in his life, he doesn’t like the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth. it’s hesitant. it sounds foreign. it makes him question himself for a moment. 
yes? that’s me, right? it’s me, izuku. your izuku.
“what are…uh.. you…here?” he stammers, unable to get the words out.
you take a step forward into the classroom. you could pass out at the sight of him. he still seemed as boyish as ever. maybe a bit broader, and taller, but his hair is still just as wild as it was in university. you can’t help but feel a twinge of insecurity as you wonder if you looked any different as well.
“uh…where’s mom?” your nephew glances back and forth between you two starstrucked at the sight of one another. “we have to look over my grades and stuff, you know.”
“right!” you exclaim. “your mom got caught up at work, so she asked me to come in.” you awkwardly shift in your position, your eyes never leaving izuku’s.
izuku’s face flares up in heat, snapping back into the present as his eyes flicker back towards his student.
“you know what? let’s reschedule that. you can go and i’ll see you tomorrow?” he quickly stands up, knocking over his chair and hitting his knee against his desk in the process.
“really?” they cock an eyebrow at the shift in behavior from the two adults in the room.
“yup! we’re running late and i have a meeting right now, so i’ll just email your mom to reschedule.” he forces a reassuring grin, making his way around his desk. “don’t forget to read over the syllabus to see what’s due, alright?”
“alright, i guess. see you tomorrow then, sensei” they shoot you a questioning side glance as they sling their backpack over their shoulder. “are you taking me home?”
“no.” you say, almost a bit too quickly. “uh, i have some errands to run before your mom gets back home, so you go on ahead i’ll see you at home.”
once your nephew leaves, unsuspecting of the thick line of tension running between his aunt and teacher, izuku quickly rushes over and shuts his door.
“whatareyoudoinghere?” the sentence leaves his mouth in an incoherent string of words. he grabs you by the shoulders and lets his eyes take in your face. every curve, every mark, every wrinkle, old and new.
you feel 19 again. you guess the urge to kiss izuku midoroya never leaves you, after all. 
“my sister just got a new job, so i’m living with her and helping her out with the kids while she adjusts.” you breathlessly stare at him. “i didn’t know you were still in the city.”
of course he’s still here- exactly where you left him after all these years. his grip on your shoulders tightens as a response. he’s scared that if he lets go, you’ll be gone for good, or at least for another 5 years.
“we should catch up.” you smile, grabbing onto his forearms as a warmth crawls up your next “when are you free? i mean, you’re probably really busy, but even a phone call-”
“tonight? how about tonight?” he blurts out. “we can go somewhere?”
izuku reassures himself that it’s fine. the kids can have a movie day, and he’ll spend that time grading papers and catching up on work. the only thing he needs is right in front of him.
seeing your face light up makes him feel nothing but nostalgic euphoria. he never wants to lose this feeling again.
“i’ll text you, then? you still have my number?”
he almost laughs in your face. your text conversation has been pinned to the top since the day you exchanged phone numbers.
“by heart.”
-
“tech? like you work in IT?” izuku’s face scrunches in disgust. he almost spits his drink out. “why the hell would you do that to yourself?”
“shut up!” you rub your face in your hands, snorting out a laugh. “it’s easy, i’m in a senior position, it pays well, and it’s remote. that’s all i care about for now.”
you two meet at a nearby bar. outside of his suit and tie, he looked much younger. he looks like the izuku you knew half a decade ago with his perpetual pink cheeks, slightly too large graphic tee, and red sneakers.
“so you’re now living with your sister… in the city.” he begins, looking into your eyes with a hopeful gleam. “for how long?”
“i’m not sure.” you shrug. “i’m still figuring it out, but my lease back home is up at the end of next month, so either way, i have to see what i want to do by then.”
“you should stay in the city.” the words slipped out of his mouth before he could process them.
“i mean- it’s just, you know, your sister is here, and her kids, and there’s more opportunities and stuff, and your work is remote anyways, and uh-” he stammers, words flowing out in an unstoppable stream.
“-and you’re here?” you tease.
his face flushes red.
“it is a possibility.” you sigh, shooting him a subtle smirk and saving him the embarrassment of coming up with a response. “i don’t know though. my sister wants me to stay too, but it’s a lot to think about.”
“i get it. my mom moved to the city to be near. it was hard for her.” he takes a sip of his drink. “not with me, though! she’s got a townhouse in the outskirts.” he quips.
you laugh. he definitely hasn't changed.
“speaking of, do you want to come back to my apartment? right now?” he shyly asks, avoiding your gaze for a moment.
“right now?” you look down and check the time displayed on your phone.
11:00pm.
“it’s a school night isn’t it?” you cock your head to the side. "i'm surprised you even wanted to meet up this late. thought i'd have to book office hours with you weeks in advance to catch up." you tease
izuku mentally curses at himself for being so forgetful, and so predictable. he doesn’t want this night with you to end, but that 7:00am alarm set for tomorrow morning is inching closer and closer.
“you’re right.” his confidence deflates. “i guess we should get going.”
you two pay your tab and make your way to the exit. you stand facing each other at the corner of the street, taking in each other’s presence once more.
there’s a faint buzzing in your ear from the lamppost hanging above you and your breaths come out in shallow puffs. you don’t know why you’re so nervous all of the sudden. you wish you didn’t have to leave again.
“so, can we do this again? can i see you again?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. 
“you think i’d get to see izuku midoriya from beyond the grave and let you get away? for the second time?”
he feels like he could cry right now, so he pulls you in for a hug instead. you haven’t changed at all- not in the ways that matter anyways. his hand falls against the nape of your neck as he presses his cheek against your forehead.
“i missed you.” he mutters into your hair.
“me more.”
before you go your separate ways, i love you sits at the tip of his tongue. he wants to tell you. to finally say back after all of these years, but it somehow doesn’t feel right- not yet at least.
-
a few weeks later, you find yourself sitting in one of izuku’s classroom desks. the top button of his shirt is undone, his sleeves rolled up, and the soft late afternoon sunlight streaming through his window bathes him in gold.
from over your laptop screen, you see izuku mumbling to himself as he reads through essays while twirling a red pen between his fingers. the look of concentration had been plastered to his face since you were students- dark furrowed brows, unblinking eyes, a twinge of anxiety, and tightly pressed lips.
“you’re staring.” he mutters in between his incoherent mumbles.
his eyes snap up to meet yours.
“no i’m not.” you shrug, suppressing a satisfied smile as your eyes return to your own screen.
“I think i’ve gotten pretty good at noticing after spending all those years with you in that library.” he returns the smile, leaning back in his seat. “you don’t stare often, but when you do, you stare loud.”
“says you.” you roll your eyes. “you don’t think i ever noticed the thousand glances every hour?”
his face scrunches in embarrassment. 
“not like i could help myself.” he mutters, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. 
“ditto.” you halfway close your laptop and rest your head on a propped elbow. “but you knew that.”
the air in the room thickens between you two. you’ve been itching to have a conversation with izuku about your last moments before you left the city 5 years ago, but there hasn’t been a good time to bring it up. you weren’t even sure if you should at all.
“i don’t think i ever noticed.”
“noticed what?”
“that you liked me.” he pressed his lips together, nervous to bring up the past. “like that at least. i didn’t have a clue before you took me to that party.”
“how could you?” you breathe out a chuckle. “you were drowning in your work and studies, there was no time to even sleep let alone have anything romantic.”
a beat of silence passes.
“sorry.” he mutters.
“don’t be.” you shrug. "i loved you enough for the both of us. you were my best friend, and i wouldn’t change anything. maybe i would’ve forced you to take more naps, though.” you chuckle.
he doesn’t like the past tense termage of this conversation. it makes him feel a bit nauseous thinking that he really did lose it all, even with you here in front of him.
“i told you i felt the same, didn’t i?”
“mmm.. i guess so.” you mutter. “but it’s different. it was a goodbye.”
“i’m sorry.” he says again, with a pout this time.
“stop that.” you launch your pen in his direction, bouncing off of the chalk board behind him. “i’m here now. you’re here. you’re still my best friend. everything’s the same, except we’re a little bit older and have 5 years to catch up on. isn’t that enough?”
you two danced around the conversation for a few more minutes before returning to your work in silence. there was no clear answer as to where your feelings for each other stand now, but he feels just as sick as he did the day of the grad party.
but isn’t that enough? to just have you here now?
on a saturday night in his apartment, just days before you have to go home and sort out your living situation, izuku tells you he loves you for the first time.
you’re staring at him, unsure if maybe you heard him wrong or if it was the television in the background.
“huh?” your mouth gapes open. “what’d you say?”
“i..i love you.” his voice shakes as the words leave his mouth. “i love you, okay?”
for a split second, there’s a sequence of images that flash through his mind. his body would learn to wake up at 6:55am every morning despite his alarm being set for 7:00am. he sees you peacefully sleeping next to him, and he can’t bring himself to let that alarm go off and disturb you.
he’d start the coffee pot- enough for two, obviously. maybe he’d leave a nice note for you to start your day off with. maybe a grocery list if you’re up for the trip, but you’d insist that you go to the market together on the weekend. you’re very distracting, and he knows this, but you’d somehow always meet at the dining room table or his classroom to do work together. 
he’d come home to you softly singing in the kitchen while making dinner. every now and then, he’d surprise you with flowers when he comes home from work, but he’ll brush it off and say it’s “for the apartment” just out of pure nerves. movie nights. falling asleep on the couch together. waking up in the afternoon with a split second of panic- but it’s the weekend and he doesn’t have a class to get to. he’d see the sunlight pool against your face as you slowly wake up from your slumber with fluttering eyelashes. he’d kiss you in that unsuspecting moment. he’d say he loves you with every breath leaving his lungs. he’d always have time for you.
“izuku.” you sadly smile, turning over to the stove and extinguishing the flame. “you don’t have to do this, you know?”
his heart sinks to his stomach.
“i know- no it’s not like that.” he stammers. “it’s because.. i’m saying it because…”
he makes his way around the kitchen island to you, firmly gripping your shoulders. he wants to make sure you hear this from him properly. after all of these years.
“because i love you, and i think i alway have.” he bites his bottom lip. “and i think i always will, and you’re here, and i’m here, and i know it’s hard because i kind of really messed things up in university, but to be honest, i regret everything because yeah i love my job and i’m doing okay now, but i lost you for 5 years and thought i’d never get to see you again and i should've-”
he stops himself when he sees his reflection in your eyes. he’s doing it again- the rambling.
“sorry.” he mutters. “but do you…do you understand?” he almost pleads.
“i understand.” you nod your head, a long exhale following your reply.
for a moment, you’re 22 again, and the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over are no longer apologetic, but now hopeful.
you can’t help but pull him into a hug, running your hand up and down his back as he sniffs back his tears.
“always such a crybaby, izuku.” you muffle into his shoulder. “i love you, too. you know that.”
“i feel so stupid.” he chokes out. “5 years is so long, and i feel like i blacked out for the entirety of that time and now that you’re back, i’m alive and can't do it without you again.”
he pulls away, looking back at you with furrowed brows and tear stained cheeks.
“please stay in the city. please.” 
your eyes widen at the request- the same request you wished left his lips all those years ago.
“you want me to stay?”
“selfishly, yes.” he bites down on his bottom lip. “here. with me.”
you take a moment and let your eyes wander around the apartment. you eye the half cooked dinner on the stove, the pile of unopened mail sitting on the counter, the row of dead plants lining the living room window.
izuku follows your eyes. he knows you’d settle in nicely, almost like the final piece in a puzzle. he feels it in his gut. he also feels the panic bubbling in his stomach the longer your gaze lingers at the chaos behind him.
“is that too fast?” he breaks the silence. “sorry. i don’t mean to jump from ‘i love you’ to ‘move in with me’ in the same night.” he awkwardly laughs, releasing you from his grip. “uh, maybe we’ll talk more about that after dinner.”
his face burns into a bright red- snapping out of his love dazed state and back into the reality where he just confessed to his best friend on a random night in.
“maybe after dinner, you can give me a proper tour of the place?” 
for the first time in izuku's life, he feels content knowing that time passes and the world continues to turn.
with you, it feels a bit gentler.
with you, it's worth it.
-
bonus ssrryy i have to be indulgent lmao:
the first time izuku kisses you, you're on your way back from a late night outing from the bars with his coworkers where he introduces you as his partner for the first time.
"you sure you're okay?" he laughs as you rub your hand against the back of his neck from the passenger seat.
"super peachy, zuku." you hiccup, twirling a green curl between your fingers. "a few drinks got nothing on me."
izuku presses his lip into a wobbly smile.
from his peripheral, he feels your stare burning into his side profile, only making him more nervous by the second. he thinks about teasing you and calling it out for a moment, but he remains silent for the rest of the drive back home.
izuku parks the car, shutting off the engine and letting the overhead light dimly illuminated the space between you two.
he leans over to meet your eyes and rests his elbow over the center console, taking a second to silently debrief from the night's social outing.
"thanks for coming out with me." he whispers, reaching down and shyly interlocking his index finger with yours.
"i love a good excuse to drink." you laugh, leaning in and letting your foreheads connect.
izuku only had a single drink several hours ago, but he suddenly blacks out. with his other hands, he reaches up and tips your chin up and lock his lips with yours.
it takes you off guard, but you don't hesitate to reach up and rest your hand on the side of his neck.
when izuku pulls away, his breathing is heavy and face grows red. your finger remains interlocked.
"um. i love you." he coughs, briefly meeting your gaze before darting away. "uh, sorry i should have asked" he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.
"i love you, izuku midoriya." you say in a teasing tone, leaning further over the center console and into the driver's seat.
izuku leans away until his back hits the soft interior of the car door.
"uh, we should.. we should go in? right?" he starts, eyes widening as you inch closer.
you reach over and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him into you.
"yeah, we should." you say before crashing your lips into his, feeling him accept the defeat with a nervous laugh as he lets his hands find the soft skin of your cheek and warmth of your neck.
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skzdarlings · 2 days ago
Text
the kiss ; skz ; lee know x reader
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pairing: lee know/reader content info: friends to lovers, established friends w benefits but they are in love, your honour. reader is a gnc woman. top!reader, bottom!minho, some light dom!reader, sub!minho. mahandling, teasing, handjobs, rimming, spitting, strap-ons, mentions of past pegging, mentions of spanking/belting, lots of smooching word count: 3000 words.
this was originally going to be a multi-part story but i changed my mind thus this went to die in my graveyard of scraps. however i love this couple and i liked this scene and it seemed a shame to not post it at all haha. hopefully others will enjoy it too :)
<3
-
Raising your kid brother means you will forever occupy the nebulous, fucked up space of Not-Your-Parent, Still-Your-Mom, even when said kid brother has long stopped being a kid.  Jeongin will always be your first priority. 
Minho knows it too.  He has been your best friend for several years now.  He knows you.  He knows you will always stop what you’re doing if Jeongin needs you. 
Even at the tragic expense of an orgasm. 
It’s two o-clock in the morning, an hour after you got off work bartending.  Minho has to be up for his office job in four hours so he was grumbly when your horny ass woke him up with a bulge pic.  You like to consider yourself above obnoxious hormone-driven decisions, but that’s before the strap-on straps on.  Several inches of silicone later and you’re taking (tasteful) fake-dick dick pics in the bar bathroom. 
Minho answers the door shirtless, his grey sweatpants betraying his already chubbed up semi, and with an extraordinarily icy glare that not even his sleep-mussed blonde hair can diminish.  He snarks at you until you curl your fingers into his dark roots and yank. 
It takes only minutes to manhandle him back into his bed, moments to get his sweatpants off, and seconds to have your fingers around his throat and his dick gliding through your spit-wet fist. 
You end up horizontal across the middle of his big bed.  You’re still in a t-shirt and jeans, your boots and leather jacket somewhere on the floor.  Minho is naked and covered in little love bites, his body a fading canvas of your previous times together.  The sight never fails to make you ache, your fingers tracing the evidence of your own hungry desires. 
You kneel between his open legs and he impatiently pries open your belt.  His mouth ticks up in an amused grin as you let him whip the belt out of its loops.  He tosses it behind him, his smile a smidgeon cocky even while on his back. 
You would never call him cute, because he’d probably slap and correct you (he’s handsome, thank you very much), but he is.  Cute.  Sweet.  The way he cocks his head, the way he gazes up at you.  There’s an erratic heartbeat in both your cunt and actual heart, the latter more pronounced than usual.   Your eyes have already adjusted but the blue darkness of his bedroom seems fuzzier, everything around him disappearing in a blurry smog of relative insignificance.   
“You’re staring,” he says, his fingers crawling under your shirt.  His knuckles brush your nipple through your sports bra.  He pulls a face when he pinches it meanly. 
You grab both his wrists and yank his hand out of your shirt.  He does not look remotely chagrined, instead he is beaming with satisfaction, like he was the one who planned your reaction.  
You pin his hands above his head then lean over him.  His playful arrogance fades, his gaze jumping to your mouth then back to your eyes.  It brings your attention to his mouth, pink and wet, his bottom lip plump and bitten from his own teeth running over it. 
You have kissed him before.  It isn’t a habit but also isn’t strange.  You were the first to ever initiate a kiss.  It was the third time you slept together and the first time you properly came from fucking someone.  The base of a toy in a strap-on can sometimes provide some stimulation against your clit, depending on a few factors, but you usually have to be pretty worked up to even get close. 
He got you more than close, taking you right over the edge.  You all but fell onto him with the desperation of your kiss.  His ankles were hooked behind your back, his face warm where your thumb stroked his skin, where you raked fingers into his sweaty hair as you sunk deep inside him with dick and tongue at once. 
You usually kiss like that: in the throes of something especially electrifying.  You think this might be the first time you kiss him so simply, just like this, with clarity and consciousness, spurred by affection more than thoughtless passion.  A deliberate kiss, as you lean down and do just that, his lips warm and open against yours. 
His eyes close, his brow furrows.  
The thing about Minho that turns you on the most is how he… well, how he Minhos.  His smirking, his snarking, his fake impatience, how much he dishes out.  He’s your friend, someone you’ve sat beside on weekend camping trips, resting in comfortable silence around a fire while Jeongin and his friends cause a ruckus somewhere down on a beach.  Minho will sit on your couch with his feet in your lap, his hat backwards, wearing glasses so he can read the nutritional content on a snack bag while you carelessly scarf down its contents.  He’ll tease you kindly, let you playfully knock your knuckles under his chin.  He’ll cook you meals when you haven’t eaten all day, too busy with everything to take care of yourself, but he’ll wave away any expression of gratitude after the fact.  He’s good, utterly, but he likes to be trouble too. 
And that’s what really gets you going, something you admit can’t be replicated with any other lover.  Because they aren’t Minho.  And that’s the best part. 
Like this.  Playful and catty and mad you woke him when he has work tomorrow, but turning soft and pliant under your body.  His brow is drawn tight as you kiss him, like he can’t comprehend the sheer pleasure of it.  He breathes in through the kiss, a trembling breath that flutters on your lips, then he cranes his neck to kiss you again. 
You press his head into the bed.  Somewhere in the simmering warmth of your kiss, your hands shift so your fingers lace and push against the bed.  He makes a keening sound, his back arching, kiss breaking with a deep breath as his hips and cock and thighs make contact with your jeans.  
He turns his face to the side and closes his eyes.  His chest moves with the quickness of his breathing, somehow looking like you’ve fucked for him hours when all you’ve really done is kiss him. 
His fingers tighten around yours when you kiss his exposed cheek, down his jaw, down his neck.  He rips his hands out from under yours only to throw them around your shoulders.  His fingers dive into your hair, rough and demanding when he pulls your head back to his.  His mouth opens for a kiss, his tongue slashing against yours when you give it to him.  You kiss him hard, kiss him until his fingers go weak and his arms are shaky, clinging to your neck like a lifeline. 
“That’s it, baby. So good,” you say, a slur of words without thinking too hard.  You blink with some amazement at the noise he makes, the way his whole body rears up against yours.  You cradle his hips and lick his red over-kissed mouth.   
Then your phone buzzes.  He hears it first, or at least registers the reality of it first, head whipping to his bedside table where you left it.  He is already glaring when you lift your face.  Your head is spinning, your mouth as raw as his.   
He digs his fingernails into your back through your t-shirt.  He has also painted something of a mosaic there, faded thin lines from overeager fingers scratching when you fuck him.  You obviously cannot directly feel when you are inside him, but he makes sure you feel it other ways.  Sometimes you feel it for days.  
He’s still glaring.  God, that expression really does get you so hot.  You are literally throbbing under the silicone in your jeans. 
“You’re going to check that, aren’t you, asshole,” he says with more resignation than genuine malice. 
“I should,” you say.  “Just in case it’s—”
He makes a noise that starts as a sigh and turns to a scream.  You rub your ear after. 
“Your dick isn’t even real,” he says, throwing an arm over his eyes, “and you still manage to disappoint me.”
You laugh, so fond of him.  Your pounding heart is not slowing down.   It’s hard to look away from him, though you manage it long enough to see your phone light up with a text alert. 
He grabs your chin, turning your face back to his. 
“Make me come first, or I’m biting it,” he says.
“B-biting what?”
“Your dick.  I’ll chew the head off.”
“Please don’t gnaw on my dick.  It was expensive.”
“Orgasm. Now.”
He throws his arms out to the sides, eyebrows lifted in an expression of pointed expectation. 
His position briefly reminds you of the first time you ever did this, years ago.  You never complained about the obligations that came with raising Jeongin, but it wasn’t exactly easy.  Between leaving school to work and shirking your social life, you made more than a few sacrifices. You off handedly expressed the vaguest desire for something more substantial than one night stands but not as serious as a relationship, given your responsibilities, and Minho replied by throwing his arms up and giving you that exact same look. 
Well? his challenging eyes have always said.  You have never backed down from a challenge. 
You run your hands down his sides.  His arms jerk because it tickles, but you hold him down to lick and bite from hip to pit to shoulder.  He wriggles under you, his breath getting shallower.  His dick twitches when your hand curls tightly around it. 
You know how to make him come quickly.  You know his body like a well-loved song, every peak and crescent long since memorized. 
You manhandle him onto his front.  He gives in when you push down his head and shoulders, lets his knees push his backside up, up, up.  His toes curl and uncurl, his voice breaking into choppy little mewls that make you throb.   You spit on his hole and your mouth chases it, tongue doing what your dick would have done.   Your other hand is under him, stroking in steady tandem.  
You don’t rush.  It won’t take long anyway because he isn’t trying to hold back. 
That makes you wonder, for a moment.  If he even could hold his orgasm.  Your sex doesn’t exactly resemble conventional intercourse between a man and a woman so it’s not usually too important if he stays very hard or not, greedy with his orgasms and never restraining long.  Denial isn’t something you’ve ever played with.   Prolonged orgasm control is something of a commitment in its own right.   Years ago, when you started this, you were avoiding those commitments.  
Now…  Well, Jeongin is older, living in a university dorm.  You live in a flat on your own.   You aren’t seeing anyone else and haven’t so much as hooked up with a stranger in months.  You know Minho hasn’t slept with anyone else in more than a year.  
You think about how he kissed you back.  You think of his backwards hats, his laughter, his sighing as he wraps himself around you.   
You imagine slowing your touch, telling him to hold it.  Don’t come.  Because I’m going to fuck you tomorrow, because you’re mine, and I want you ready for it. 
Your mouth gets him wet enough that spit runs down his skin.  You circle your thumb around his rim, press in, and murmur, “Wish I could come inside you.” 
He comes like that, shoving his face into the bedcovers to stifle his strangled yell.  Minho is always loud when he finishes, maybe something to do with being an only child and latchkey kid to boot.  He has lived alone for most of his life so he has never had a reason to be quiet.  As someone who comes silently, you like it, that unabashed eruption of pleasure that he can’t really hide. 
You nip the curve of his ass and narrowly dodge the backward swipe of his hand.  He keeps his face buried in the blanket, grumbling nonsense as he finally lowers his hips.  You straddle his ass and smooth your hands up his spine, watching him shudder under your touch.  You run your hands up and up, over his shoulders to cup his face and lift it out of the blankets.
“Up more,” you say. 
He’s always at his nicest and most obedient right after coming.  With only a little huff, he pushes his torso up and tips his head back.  His eyes flick up to where you lean over him.  The bulge of your packed toy is sitting on his ass. 
“Open,” you say. 
He opens his mouth, still gazing up and back at you.  Those dark eyes make all the blood in your heart rush lower, thumping frantically.  His head falls all the way back when your hands circle his throat to hold him there.  He only closes his eyes when you spit in his mouth, lips closing around it as he moans like you just gave him the sweetest gift in the world. 
“Good,” you say, kissing the top of his head.   
He groans and flops back down, then brings his arms forward to fold and cushion them under his head.  He lifts his hips to grind his ass against your bulge, probably smirking into his elbow. 
“Better check your phone,” he says.  He yelps when you slap his ass.  
“You’re lucky you tossed that belt away, smartass,” you say.   
That degree of playing is also not something you have ever done, though you’ve skirted the idea once or twice.  Your red handprint on his ass attests to it. 
“Promises, promises,” he mutters. 
You are tempted to give him another smack for good measure, but it will only work you up more.  Instead you muster the resolve to pull away.  His discarded sweatpants are the closest fabric so you wipe your hands on it.  It earns your own backside a smack as you crawl to his bedside table. 
“Hey,” you say, menacing but humorously so. 
He knows you have no intention of following through with any threats, so he clamps both hands on your ass and squeezes.  He cackles evilly before rolling out of arm’s reach.  
Shaking your head and smiling, you check your phone.  It is Jeongin.  You can’t help but facepalm when you read his message. 
Hi it’s Jeongin from family.  Your brother Jeongin.  Hello. We went to a Party far away and Uber dropped us off but now they don’t have anyone to pick us up!! :(  Please rescue us.  There are woods and trees and maybe bears.  and we are drunk.  Nothing Illegal
Ah, fuck.  Nothing says illegal substance like swearing the opposite unprompted.  You would know; before your parents died, you were indubitably on track to being the problem child.  Your first year of university was a mess you intended to straighten out later, but later never came.   Your parents died, Jeongin was still a minor, and you made a series of hard choices overnight.    
After all these years, you’re still not sure if your wayward experiences made you a better pseudo-parent or a worse one.  Maybe ignorance would have made you less panicky all the time.  Maybe it would have made you worse. 
Minho ducks into the bathroom while you text with Jeongin.  You are lacing up your boots when Minho returns with your toothbrush, one he keeps for your overnight visits.  Looking at his thighs in his boxers, the hickey poking out just under the hem, makes you wish tonight was one of those nights.  Tragically, the only one being deprived of an orgasm is you. 
You scrub the brush around your mouth, just enough, then swallow.  He leaves again, your eyes on every step of his retreat. 
“You’re staring again,” he says from the bathroom. 
“Duh,” you say.  You go back to tying your boots but your mind is elsewhere.   You are thinking about Jeongin and his friends, of course, but you are also thinking about Minho.  A lot about Minho.  Mostly about Minho.  Arousal is still coursing through your veins, never mind all the emotions you kept so carefully tucked away for so long. 
Suddenly, it’s all you can think about.  He’s all you can think about. 
Minho kneels behind you on the bed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.  He kisses behind your ear, then your neck, your clothed shoulder.   Your fingers dance anxiously over your knees. 
“Don’t tempt me,” you say. 
It isn’t a joke but he laughs, mistaking it for one.  “Sure,” he says.  “You just can’t take your own teasing.” 
“Minho.”  
“Tyrant.”
You turn, grasping his chin so quickly he gasps.  You guide his face to yours and kiss him. 
This kiss is slower, bold and open-mouthed.  Hot.  His moan is a light sound at the back of his throat and it zaps through you like an electric bolt.  He drags his nails down the middle of your back, making every hair stand on end.  When the kiss eventually comes apart, he presses his forehead to yours. 
You are both breathing hard. 
“I’m not working tomorrow night,” you say, your voice a low rumble.  You swipe your thumb over his bottom lip.  “Can I come over?”
He nods.  Minho can be loud to say the least, but sometimes his voice gets so delicate that it turns your brain to mush.  He talks like that now, all soft and sweet, so close to your mouth.  “You promised to fuck me tonight,” he says. “I’ll be thinking about it all day now.”
“Me too,” you say.
“Mm.”  He flops over and rolls so his back is to you.  “That’s too bad for you.”  He accompanies this comment with a wiggle of his hips. 
You can’t help but smile at him. 
“See you then, brat,” you say. 
“You’ll see me in your dreams,” he says, accompanying it with a dramatic yawn.  “And when you masturbate tonight.  Good night!”      
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willowsnook · 2 days ago
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Fake Love Triangle (LN & FC) 18+
lando norris x reader, franco colapinto x reader
for my friend @a-beaverhausen
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"Come on, baby, give me one more," Lando cooed at you as he drilled into you from behind. Your face was smashed into the pillow, your body slumping as your third orgasm came over you. He chased his own
high, spilling into you before pulling out to lay next to you.
"I needed that," he sighed, pulling you into his side. You rested your head on his chest, agreeing.
"Me too. This stuff with Logan is stressing me out."
You were in your third year as a strategist with Williams, and this season had been rough—though so had last year and the year before that. You and Lando had been hooking up for the past season, using each other as a stress reliever, which worked for both of you. He wasn’t interested in a relationship, wanting to keep his focus on the championship. He was amazing in bed and a good friend, but you just weren’t interested in him romantically and never really had been. There was an understanding that your private activities didn’t mean anything, and either of you could end it whenever needed.
"I’ve heard you guys are replacing him," Lando mentioned, combing his fingers through your hair.
"Yeah, it’s being announced in the next couple of days. We’re bringing in a younger driver from our academy."
"Hmm, that'll be interesting."
You lifted your head to give him a look. He knew what this would mean for you and looked at you with sympathy. Looking over at your phone, you groaned at the time and moved off the bed, putting your clothes back on.
"I need to actually get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow, and your snoring prevents that, so I’ll see you around," you teased, grabbing your things. Lando pouted, but you paid him no mind.
"Good luck, and text me if you need me," he said playfully, and you shot him the finger before leaving his apartment.
----------------------------------------------------
Landing in the UK the next morning, you were exhausted, still not getting good sleep even without Lando's snores. There was an all-team meeting at 10, followed by a strategy session. You were a zombie during the meeting, barely paying attention as they announced Franco as the new driver.
Walking toward the conference room, the new driver fell into step next to you.
"Hola, hermosa," he said, smirking at you. "I'm Franco."
"I know who you are," you replied, laughing as you took in the Argentinian man.
"Just wanted to make sure. You didn’t seem like you were paying much attention back there," he teased, and you rolled your eyes.
"How would you even have noticed? There were so many people in there."
"I always notice the most beautiful woman in a room," he flirted, and your cheeks tinted pink.
"Are you really flirting with me right now?" you questioned.
"Only if you like it," he said with a wink, holding the door open for you.
This was going to be an interesting working relationship.
------------------------------------------
You quickly grew accustomed to Franco's flirting, which became part of your working routine, though you didn’t pay it much attention, considering he was like that with everyone.
Standing with his PR manager, who looked like she was about to pull her hair out, Franco strolled out of the interview room, his eyes lighting up as he saw you.
"Can you stop flirting with the reporters for five minutes, please?" she complained, and he shrugged innocently. She turned to you, "I don’t know how you put up with it."
"He does it with everyone, so I don’t think much of it," you said, and Franco frowned.
"Yeah, but it’s different with you, cariño," he said with a pout, and you gave him a quizzical look.
"How so?"
"Because I actually mean it with you," he said, and his PR manager pushed him away.
"No relationships with staff! Get away!" she shouted, and he winked at you before retreating to his driver’s room. You looked at her amused, contemplating his words. You had been finding yourself giddy around him and missed him quite a bit during the long break before Austin.
The two of you texted regularly, and you had grown to really like him, which Lando teased you relentlessly for.
Speaking of Lando, you were standing in the hotel lobby in Brazil when you felt two arms circling your waist.
"I need your mouth badly," he whispered in your ear, and you leaned back into him.
"I only have 10 minutes before I need to meet the team for dinner," you replied, and he pulled you toward the elevator.
"I can work with that," he replied, smiling as you rolled your eyes. "I have to take advantage of this before you finally give in to Franco."
"It’s not like that," you mumbled, waiting for the doors to open.
"Yeah, yeah. In the three years I've known you, I haven’t seen you smitten with someone like this before," he teased.
"So, what should I do? Go from master to his protégé?" you joked, and Lando giggled, pulling you into his room. His lips met yours in a soft kiss.
"I don’t think there’s anyone else I’d be happier about breaking us up than him," he confessed. "Now, knees, baby, please."
Grabbing a pillow from his bed, you knelt down, pulling out his already hard cock, the tip glistening angrily.
"What’s got you so worked up?" you asked sultrily, running the tip of your tongue around the head.
Lando took a sharp breath before replying, "I just need to settle my mind down before tomorrow."
Hollowing your cheeks, you took him entirely into your mouth, running your tongue around him lazily. His hand grabbed a fistful of your hair as he pushed you to take him all in. Whimpering as he hit the back of your throat, the vibrations caused him to gasp.
Looking up at him with watery eyes, he seemed to get even harder as he stared down at you.
"Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he rasped, and you pulled off, kissing down the side of him. Your hand took over for your mouth as you moved to kiss his balls, sucking gently.
"Let me take over, please," he begged, and you smirked before nodding. His cock found its way back into your mouth, and his grip tightened, starting to face-fuck you. Tears now leaked from your eyes as you gagged against him. His pace became sloppy, and it wasn’t long before you tasted him finishing in your mouth. You pulled off, swirling your tongue around the tip one last time, causing him to wince.
"Little minx," he muttered, and you smirked, getting up. You fixed your hair in the bathroom and bid Lando goodbye, wishing him luck for tomorrow.
Arriving at the team dinner, you slid into a booth next to Franco, who stiffened. You gave him a curious look, but he wouldn’t meet your gaze; that continued for the entire night. No flirty comments, nothing—just silence, and you were beyond confused.
Finally fed up with it once you both made it back to the hotel, you turned to him.
"Is something wrong?" you questioned, and he looked at you nervously, as if struggling with what to say.
"I just think we should keep our relationship strictly professional," he said firmly, and you were floored.
"You’re the one that flirts with me," you exclaimed, and he sighed, looking around as if for an escape. "What’s wrong with you?"
"Look, I really look up to Lando and respect him as a driver and a friend," he started, and you began to realize what was going on. "He’s a lucky guy."
"Franco—," you started, but he bolted, slipping into the elevator just as the doors closed. Unbelievable. Lando’s words had convinced you to give this a chance, but instead, he ended up being a cock-block.
-------------------------------------------
Lando was amused the next day during the drivers' parade, watching Franco fidget nervously beside him. Deciding to put the boy out of his misery, he turned to him.
"Can I talk to you about something?" Lando asked, and Franco’s eyes widened as he started to babble.
"I’m so sorry, mate, I didn’t know she was your girl, or I never would have talked to her like that. Just a silly crush, I promise—I’ve never touched her," he rambled, stopping when he noticed Lando giggling, clearly amused.
"She’s not my girlfriend," Lando told the poor rookie. "She’s one of my best friends, and yes, we occasionally 'help each other out,' but it’s nothing more than that."
"Oh," Franco said, relieved. He smiled at Lando nervously. "So, she doesn’t like you like that?"
Lando shook his head, grinning, "Nah, she’s into someone else. Someone new to the grid."
Franco blushed, understanding Lando's words, and smiled to himself.
That was the last time he smiled that morning, as he crashed into the barrier in the early laps of the GP.
With two drivers out, you took off your headphones, sighing as you moved back into the garage to wait for the car’s return. Franco made it back first, and your heart broke as his tear-filled eyes met yours and he hesitated nearby. After last night’s conversation, you weren’t sure what to do, but when his eyes stayed on yours, you took the risk and wrapped your arms around him.
He buried his head into your shoulder, and you rubbed his back as he cried gently. His red-rimmed eyes met yours as he stepped back, and you felt your own eyes watering.
"Can I see you later?" he asked softly, and you nodded, promising to text him your room number.
--------------------------------------------
You had just put on your pajamas after taking a long, hot shower when you heard a knock at your door. Franco stood on the other side, dressed in a casual T-shirt and sweats.
"Hey," you greeted him softly, opening the door wider for him to come in. He stepped in and grabbed you, but instead of a hug, you felt his lips on yours as he softly gripped your jaw, holding you in place.
It was a lazy kiss but exploratory, as though he were trying to learn every part of your mouth. Breathing hard, you rested your forehead against his as he smiled gently at you.
"Can you stop fucking Lando now?" he asked, and you giggled, pulling him into another kiss.
Moving to the bed, you slid under the covers, pulling them back for Franco to join you. He pulled off his shirt first, and you shamelessly checked him out, much to his amusement.
"Like what you see, hermosa?" he teased, and you met his gaze, smirking.
"As long as it’s only for me," you said, letting a little bit of vulnerability show. He smiled at you, climbing into bed.
"Only for you."
Snuggled into Franco’s side, you watched TV together.
"Feeling better after today?" you asked softly.
"Yeah," he murmured, "Just a little scary. Not as scary as Lando asking to talk to me though."
"How'd you even know about me and him?" You asked curiously, no one knew how far your friendship went.
"I saw you last night before dinner," he admitted. "My heart shattered into a million pieces."
"You are so dramatic," you laughed. Your hand was resting on his abs, gently tracing the skin there as you talked.
"We're going to have an issue if you keep doing that, mi amor," Franco said breathlessly, and you smirked, trailing your fingers closer to his waistband.
"Y/n," he breathed out as your hand dipped underneath his pants. You palmed him over his boxers and he whimpered before pulling you on his lap. Meeting his lips in a deep kiss you ground into him, both groaning out into each other. He threw his head back against the pillow and you took the opportunity to latch your mouth to his neck, sucking harshly.
Franco pushed his boxers down and you shimmied out of your shorts before sliding back and forth on his length. Moving his hands to your hips he stopped you and lifted you up a little, allowing you to sink back down on him.
You gasped as he stretched you out, throwing your head back. Franco was in heaven staring up at you and was doing everything in his power to not make this end early. You had started to move but his fingers dug into your hips.
"Just give me a second, okay?" He rasped and you smirked down at him before fighting his grip to grind onto him. You shrieked as he flipped you over, never leaving the inside of you.
"Think you're funny, huh," he said as he moved more quickly. Groaning out, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he rammed into you over and over.
His head dropped to your shoulder, and he bit into your skin, causing you to cry out and dig your nails harder into his back. One of his hands came up to your breast and his thumb rolled over your nipple and you felt yourself starting to get overstimulated, a tell tale sign that you were close.
"Don't stop Franco," you gasped out, and he brought his lips back to yours, swallowing your cries as your orgasm took over. He followed soon after, collapsing next to you as you both came down from your highs.
Finally catching your breath you felt his arms scoop you up, carrying you into the bathroom.
"What are you doing?" You asked dazed and he smiled down at you.
"Have to take care of my girl," he said and you sighed against him.
It was later when you were snuggled up against Franco, watching a movie when your phone went off. You rolled your eyes smiling as you saw the text.
LN: so no more head??? ;)
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cakesexuality · 12 hours ago
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I take stuffed animals in public sometimes and find that people almost always either pretend they're not there or are excited to see them!!
On Thursday night, I took my newest stuffed animal, a cat named Blinx, out with me when I went trick-or-treating at the mall in my cat onesie. He only got comments when people at the stores thought he was cute!! Blinx also came with me to a medical procedure a couple weeks ago where a nurse told me that everyone in the hallway on the way to the procedure room were talking about how cute Blinx is. That nurse and the doctor both asked his name, which is always a green flag.
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Last year, I had surgery and brought along my turkey, Ulana, who I got specifically for bringing to the hospital that day. When I asked a nurse what to do with Ulana, I was expecting to hear either "Oh you can leave her in your room" or more specifically "You should put her in your bag" but instead I got "Do you want me to ask if you can bring her to the OR?" so I got to bring her all the way to the OR and she got compliments from a couple nurses. When I woke up in the recovery room, Ulana was wearing my mask with the ear loops around her wings.
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I went to a con a couple months ago and brought my bear, Ellie, with me. I paid for photo ops with a couple special guests, and Rock M Sakura from RuPaul's Drag Race asked my bear's name then said "It's nice to meet you, Ellie!"
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A couple years ago, I had to go see an ophthalmologist, and I was getting upset during the pre-tests with the ophthalmic assistant (NOT from anything she did or said) so I got out my stuffed animal I had brought that day, Brock. The ophthalmologist came in and started asking me questions like what Brock is called and how he came to be called that, so I told him Brock came with that name and a short bio stating he plays football and wants to be a nurse when he grows up. On my way out, the doctor said "I'm glad you and Brock came in today!"
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This past summer, I went to see a pride parade and brought my bunny, Vibri!! I don't think she got any comments or acknowledgement. I held her the entire time I was there and brought along one of my tiny rainbow flags but I almost brought the tiny bi flag I have for her, since Vibri is a bisexual icon.
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I did once get asked to put a stuffed animal away, a small bulldog named Butch, but that was because I was having an echocardiogram and the tech was afraid of getting ultrasound gel on him, and I got to keep Butch in my hand because I said I was okay with getting gel on him since he was old and had been through a lot already
No picture for Butch
If people stare at me for my stuffed animals, I don't notice. I only ever pay attention to when they say positive things about my stuffed animals.
I’m not the first to say this but I really wish it were normalised for adults to carry around comfort objects like stuffed animals
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conundrumoftime · 3 days ago
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Okay so look, here is why I want Celeborn in TROP as soon as he can feasibly get there
I know that many people feel he shouldn't turn up yet because at the moment Galadriel is still traumatised, brittle and emotionally entangled with Sauron. I want him to turn up now precisely because Galadriel is traumatised, brittle and emotionally entangled with Sauron.
I do not want him to swoop in and instantly save her from that, to be clear. I do not want him to be her reward for getting through it. I want him to turn up as an almost-stranger to a wife he's been away from for eight hundred years and see her now, see her as she is, hairtrigger temper and trauma and grief and unresolved situationship with Satan's Little Helper and all. I want his love for her to include all of that.
(Because! They don't have to stay together! Galadriel's family is full of couples who lived out their marriages on separate continents due to what I'll just briefly gloss over as Some Significant Ideological Disagreements. We know they end up together in Lothlórien but the characters have not read Lord of the Rings!)
I want him to see her tempted by power, and know that whatever they have later is built on that kind of understanding of what she wants and who she is and what she nearly did - and what she might still do. I want Sauron to still be offering her that in their 3000-year-long mind battle and for her to still be tempted by it and for Celeborn to know, to fully know, maybe to have it as an unspoken pain between them, maybe to be the only person she can trust to tell.
I do not want them to sit around holding hands and smiling gently at each other, yay missing husband's back hearts and flowers THE END. I want them to argue. I want those centuries of separation to matter. I want hurt feelings and pain and grief turned to anger, and to see how they navigate through that - why they navigate through that.
I want Sauron to try a divide-and-conquer approach with the two of them by showing Celeborn that raft-vision of Galadriel as his queen, and for Celeborn to find himself horrified by it and loving her despite it, and - perhaps! - really quite intensely turned on by the thought of it, too.*
I want them to rebuild that marriage, not just to resume it like they were never even apart. I want it to be worth rebuilding. I want him to love her, and not love the perfect past-temptation no-longer-fighty image of her that angry male Peter Jackson fans on Twitter have told me she is Supposed To Be - I want him to love this Galadriel, this broken and grieving and furious one, this one that still refers to Sauron as 'Halbrand' sometimes, this one who's on Numenor's list of Prisoners Who Haven't Yet Finished Their Sentence For Causing Sedition when Pharazôn turns up ("Did you actually - you know what, never mind, tell me later"). I want him to love her.
---
(* one of my Silmarillion incomplete draft fics is Thingol trying to warn Celeborn away from her by bringing up stories about her from the Helcaraxë, "well she looks all happy and peaceful mingling with our court now but can you imagine her drenched head to foot in the blood of a bear she just killed?", only Celeborn is the exact opposite of put off by this. "No! That's terrible! I must go and speak to her about it immediately in private and get all the details, just to assure myself about how terrible it was.")
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solkver · 3 days ago
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airdrop ⋆·˚ ༘ *
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chapter 16... ᝰ.ᐟ are the gays done fighting yet?
content warning! written angst under the cut, violence/fighting, slight mentions of blood, lots of profanities, anton and y/n massive anger issues lol
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✄┈┈┈┈ october 26, 2024 – 9:27 pm
"y/n" anton begins, hands on his hips, "what the fuck is going on with you and sohee?" a frown graces his features, clearly displeased with the situation.
"nothing" you answer clear as day, eyes honest. it makes anton fume, what do you mean nothing?
"I'm not playing y/n"
"I'm not either" you respond back just as quickly as anton retorts at you, "why are you always playing dumb with me y/n?" anton groans, a hand running through his tousled hair, "just answer me for real"
"nothing, anton. sohee and I are nothing."
anton sighs, frustrated as hell, "so, what? you guys sleep next to each other as friends?" anton dryly chuckles, "hell, you guys aren't even friends" and maybe anton was right, but something about hearing it from him irks you to your bone. but this is anton, your brother, you're never going to succumb to him, "yeah, basically"
"what?" anton asks, stunned.
"I said, we fuck around but thats it"
that seems to hit a nail in anton's head, his brows shoot up and his pupils are blown wide, "get your shit together y/n! he isn't one of your boytoys like before"
you frown at the term used, evidently offended. fuck, it makes your blood boil that anton had been digging at your past relationships from the get go, "sohee is my best friend, y/n. he's not some boy you meet at the bar and bring home"
you click your tongue, stepping closer to the fuming boy, anger levels slowly matching one another, "what if I want him to be my boytoy, then what chanyoung?"
that really does it for the younger, his hands flying to grab at the collar of your shirt, practically puncing on you "don't fucking call me that"
what kind of man were you if not pounce back at your brother, right? you snatch at his wrists and push him back, "what? chanyoung?"
really, you should've just stepped down from the pedestal of your pride because you're reminded just how much stronger anton had become when his fists meet your cheek, "I'm not fucking around, y/n. do you like sohee or not?"
you huff, your left hand cradling your punched cheek while your right grabs at the front of anton's shirt, your faces barely centimeters apart, "it's none of your business" you seethe, spitting a mix of drool and blood on the sand, a couple getting on anton's face before shoving him away and going back into your cabin.
no matter how angry you get at anton, you know better than to hit him back. you were better than that, way better. but with the bruise forming on your cheek, you really second doubt your choices. sigh.
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𓏔 i. MASTERLIST 𓏔 ii. BACK 𓏔 iii. NEXT
synopsis! bored sohee decides that airdropping memes at his best friend's gig would be the best way to kill the boredom. much to his luck, the drummer of his best friend's band, who he's been crushing on for years, is the one that got his meme airdropped to.
author's note! DONT JUMP ME FOR THE ANGST AND FIGHTING GUYS 😞😞😞 taglists still open!
taglist! @pinklemonade34 @luvkyu @naseobseob @kmusicreblogs @desafortuno @dontwannaexsist @onementally-unstabel-kid @kaijunodos @kaiyunsim @xavi-in-kpopland @prettybluei @gnusihcom @shuaeunie @leoleoleone @nootnootpinguuu @conwunder
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© solkver 2024 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms. thank you.
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 15 hours ago
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Dark Shelves 1
Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes (archivist AU)
Summary: your new job is much of the same, with a hit of new misery.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
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You peer up at the romanesque pillars and the curved dome of the elaborate building. It’s a step up, a high one, and you’re proud of yourself for taking. After years in a basement, blowing dust off of rusted spoons that may as well be at the good-will, you’re finally exactly where you want to be.  
Not associate, not assistant, you are an archivist in your own right. You will not be pushed into the corner again. Though you aren’t too presumptive. You could get lost in any stacks. You like how your job affords you pockets of solitary, but you didn’t choose the career on that alone.  
You work to preserve and share the past. It sounds more noble in your head than out loud. It’s a good enough reason for you. 
You climb the stairs and pause before you pass through the double doors. Inside, the lobby is airy and polished to a shine. You try not to marvel too obviously. Too often you’ve been caught and ridiculed for the very act. Most people look at you and assume less than more of you. 
You walk up the front desk, a grand circular structure with shelves behind it. The man behind it has a metal nametag on his brown plaid shirt; Peter. You greet him stoically. You quit smiling to appease strange men a while ago. 
“Hi, I’m here to get my employee ID.” You take out your phone. “Then I’m supposed to meet someone named James.” 
“Right, I have your welcome packet,” he reaches under the desk. “It’s here.” 
“Great,” you accept the folder as he beams back at you. He’s young and fresh-faced. He must still be a student. “Thank you.” 
“Have you been her before?” He asks. 
“A couple times,” you answer. 
“Cool, cool,” he accepts, “there’s a map in there in case.” He points to the folder. “You’re going to second floor. East wing. The office number is in the email.” 
“Yes, I saw that. Thanks so much,” you nod. 
“Oh, your card’s activated. So any access thingies, just swipe,” he says. 
“Got it,” you cross your arm over the folder and continue around the desk to the double set of staircases that open behind it. 
You climb patiently. You’re early. You always are. A long academic career has drilled the habit into your very being. 
You check the email one last time and put your phone away. You’re not one for stereotypes but in your experience, the senior archivists tend to hate screens. You always resented their stubbornness. Digital backups are essential to the future of your profession. It could also just make their lives easier in general. 
As you count down the office numbers, you slow down. The short heels of your lace-up boots clack softly on the oaken floor tiles. The door you need is already open and there’s a man standing in it. He leans slightly on the frame as he faces inward. His deep voice carries behind him. 
You push your shoulders back as you approach. You don’t want to interrupt. You stop about a foot back, unsure how to go forward. You check your watch with a subtle tilt of your head. 
The man in the door is tall. He has one foot pointed to the floor, and arm bent back as he pushes back his brown corduroy jacket and grips his hip. He wears a dark blue turtleneck that meets the long tails of his outgrown hair. There’s never an in-between with archivists. They are either immaculately preened are shaggy and stuffy. 
“Right,” the man glances over his shoulder at you and his eyes squint, crinkly his nose, “I think I’m holding someone up.” He turns to face you, “hello, miss, do you need some help? Looking for the newspaper lab?” 
You’re not surprised that he assumes you to be a student. It’s a common presumption among his demographic. They are always the authority and everyone they don’t know must be ignorant. 
“No. Hello, I’m an archivist. Newly-hired. You wouldn’t happen to be James Barnes?” 
“James?” His mouth slants. “Only his mother calls him that. Bit of advice, it’s Bucky.” 
“Steve,” a voice drawls from within the open office. 
“Alright, alright,” the man shows his hands then extends one to you. “Steve Rogers. I’m the next door down. Fellow senior archivist, with James.” 
“Steve,” another snarl. 
You shake the man’s hand, “nice to meet you.” 
His cheek ticks, “you too. I like that vest. Very... quirky.” 
You don’t thank him. You merely retract your hand and adjust the scarf between the open front of your coat. He sidles out of the doorway as he wears a pompous smirk. 
“Come in,” the bodiless voice calls out to you. 
You step into the doorway. The man you’re looking for sits behind his desk. He uses an envelope open to pick at what appears to be a metal shell for a coil of parchment. He delicate traces the lines of the ornate metal cap on the end. 
“I’ll be a moment,” he says. 
“Alright,” you stand in the doorway. He doesn’t welcome you to sit. You introduce yourself in the stagnant lull. 
“I know who you are,” he grumbles as his brow wrinkles at his work. “After all, I sacrificed my day to training you.” 
You don’t appreciate the insinuation. You’re a task he doesn’t want to tend. A burden on what he really wants to do. You can find your way around just fine without him but the email said training was mandatory. You didn’t exactly have any say in who was handed that unlucky chore. 
“I have experience. Three years in the Heron’s Corner archives. And I’ve also done some volunteer work for museums. If you’d rather, I learn just as well from paper or email.” You suggest. 
He huffs, “typical.” 
You don’t reply. Whatever he assumes about you isn’t true but you’re not biting the hook. He grows exasperated and sets the container on its stands and stabs the envelope open into his pen cub. He slaps his hands on his desk and stands. 
“You young ones just want to sit at a computer all day,” he comes around and slides his hands into his pockets. “This job isn’t that.” 
“I’m aware of the job description,” you assure him. 
He stops before you and reaches to brush his fingertips along his thick beard. A thicket of hair falls forward he swoops it back just as swiftly. The cleft in his jaw deepens with his distaste. 
“That’s good. Less to explain, doll face,” he pulls his hand away to check his watch. 
“Fine, let’s get started.” He sniffs, “take notes.” 
He steps forward and you barely have a chance to get out of his way. His jacket flaps as he passes you and you stiffen as you grip the folder tightly. You reach to your coat pocket and take out your silver pen. 
It’s only the first day. Soon enough, you’ll be free to focus on your own work, and he his. 
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random-remzy · 3 days ago
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"How could this possibly happen?!"
*a few hours earlier*
Hermes: *flying through the air* AAAaaand tonight! On "Gay or Nay". We have... Our finalist! A lovely maiden by the name... Karen!!!
Hermes: And here we have. Our regular contenders... Apollo! aaand... Artemis!
*loud olympic cheers*
Hermes: All right you two. You know the rules. This next shot, will determine your legacy for the next. whole. Century!
*olympic ooh*
Hermes: The winner will get: a) Ultimate bragging rights b) To make the loser do something embarassing which they cannot refuse c) To, without consequence, change or create- a history-altering event.
*olympic applause*
Hermes: Now, for those of you who've been with us for a while, and for those newcomers who've joned in the past few decades. This is actually the first time we know, for a fact, that the target, will NOT die.
Becuse apparently, humans die from arrows, which. Honestly. Skill issue. who made them???
And so that put us back a couple centuries- and then there were the plagues- and the wars-
Seriosuly? who made these things?? they are really weak???
but fear not, this year we have bargained with Eros and he's given us arrows to aid in this feat.
*ahem*
But regardless! Today is a legendary day. For today, we will discover the greatest Archer among the heavens! *olympic cheer*
Hermes: So you know the rules. When the flag falls, both of you will shoot your arrow at the target. Whoever hits the target first. OR whoever hits the target at all. Wins.
The judgement will be made by yours truly~
So then. Are we ready? Apollo and Artemis: *nods in sibling feud*
Hermes: Very well. Then. May the best archer win~ *disappears* *reappears next to previously mentioned, lovely maiden*
Eros: 3,2,1-
Hermes: *from earth* ACT LIKE YOU MEAN IT GODSDAMNIT!
Eros: *groan* 3... 2... 1... *Drops flag*
Apollo: *shoots the arrow of Gay*
Artemis: *shoots the arrow of Nay*
Hermes: Uh-Oh, Looks like it's going to be close- Almost there- AND THE WINNER IS...-
*present day*
Hermes: Like I said, the Gods do not err. You are being sent on an imposibble quest. Of utmost importance.
Karen: *in tears* what is it
Hermes: *somber look* To complete the requirements of the Celestial Challenge, set in place centuries ago, by the mighty hands of the Moon, and the gentle fingers of the Sun...
Apollo and Artemis, in the distance:
*arguing about what the everloving fuck they've gotten themselves into*
And so began, the Chonicles. Of Apollo, Artemis, and Karen. On a Quest to fulfill the requirements of the Celestial Challange Winner.
Chaos ensues.
"This has to be a mistake."
"The gods do not err. The Sun and the Moon have chosen you and placed their mark upon your skin."
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aphroditeinthesea · 1 day ago
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“ you’ll be the prince ”
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connor stoll x fem!reader 🐍
i have no idea where this concept came from, i thought it was a request but i checked and it’s not so? im really confused
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
The shopping trip that had honestly begun for unknown reasons was going on its third hour. But if you were to ask Connor Stoll, he would probably tell you he’s been here for maybe two- three years?
“Baby,” he began as Y/N handed him another bag, “why did you wanna come here again?”
“There was a sale at Forever 21,” she answered, her hand finding its way to hold onto his bicep to make sure they didn’t get separated.
“Did we go to Forever 21?”
“I,” she looked at the bags in both her hands and her boyfriend’s, “no.” Connor sighed before she began to defend herself, “one more store, promise.” She put down a couple bags on a nearby bench before wrapping her arms around her boyfriend’s neck, “then, when we get back I can try on everything for you, like a fashion show.”
He looked down with a flustered smile, “yeah, okay.”
She grinned, pecking him on the lips, “thank you, baby.” She quickly grabbed his arm and walked through the crowded mall. She pushed past people who shopped, some who swore at her for her actions. Her boyfriend followed behind, making sure not to lose her.
“Wait, okay,” she stopped, “baby?”
He let out a sigh, “uh huh?”
“I need a Halloween costume, and,” she watched her boyfriend tired face shift, “just Spirit Halloween, then Forever 21, then I’m all yours.”
He couldn’t help but smile as she finished her sentence, “all mine?”
“All yours.”
He stretched out his arms, motioning toward the store, “ladies first.”
She giggled before dragging him into the seasonal store. They were immediately met with a werewolf animatronic howling in their faces.
Connor let out a scream at the sudden sound but quickly coughed to try and cover it up, “that’s not even scary.”
“Of course it’s not,” she smirked. She turned her attention to rack of Halloween costumes. She gasped, “baby!”
He slightly jumped at the exclamation but was being pulled to the costumes before he could even react, “which one are you being?”
She smiled, “I think you mean, which ones are we being?”
“Do I?”
“Here,” she handed him a costume of a prince, “Prince Phillip,” she spoke before grabbing a sleeping beauty costume, “Aurora.”
“I’m being the prince?”
“No, you’re being a princess,” she pointed to the dress, “it would really bring out your eyes.”
A smile found its way onto his face as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, “sounds good, baby.” He began looking around before she grabbed his chin to make him look at her.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes, “you’re looking for security cameras.”
He dramatically gasped, “I am not.”
“I know you, Connie,” she laughed. She grabbed the costume from him, “I’ll go pay for these.”
“No, wait,”
“You’re not robbing Spirit Halloween.”
“No,” he chuckled, “I’ll pay for them, seriously.”
“Do you have like a fake credit card or something?”
“You don’t trust me?”
“I watched you steal a diamond necklace from Tiffany’s.”
“They should’ve had better security!”
“Sweetheart,” she sighed, “go.”
He smirked before grabbing her hand, checking around before running out of the store. A few other customers turned their heads at the two, although not paying much mind to the two demigods.
He shoved people aside, receiving many swears and glares in return. They made it out to his car and jumped in.
They both laughed as they tried to catch their breaths.
When Y/N finally could see clearly again, she looked over at her boyfriend, “so?”
He smiled, leaning his head back against the seat, “so?”
“What else did you steal today?”
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ninuwrites · 14 hours ago
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Hi there! Are you still up to writing for Van Helsing? Because I’d love a fluff and smut story with him if you are! Like, one night you’re cuddling as you’re settling in, but the moment just feels right so one thing leads to another (No pressure, thanks in advance!)
just to be sure| GV
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summary: you and gabriel have a peaceful evening (or not)
warnings: smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), breeding kink(as always), dirty talk here and there
a/n: YIPIII!!! finally i finished this! i wanted to post this on halloween but ofc i didn’t make it😭 anyways i hope you’ll like this as much as i love vanhelsing (which is like a lot). ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! so sorry for any mistakes! i love you so much and enjoy!💋
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you and gabriel decided to finally settle down, in a cozy cottage, in the mountains. after years of catching monsters together and your serious injury, both of you let your hunter past and chose to take your vows and build a family rather than losing each other.
you were preparing snacks for your movie night while gabriel was taking a shower. after setting down a couple of bowls and plates on the coffee table, you sat down and waited for gabriel to finish his routine.
meanwhile you looked up a few scary movies for gabriel to choose from.
he entered the living room with his hair still wet and in his black tank top. he was holding a blanket and a pillow in each hand.
as he was sitting down you immediately cuddled to his side, grabbing and intertwined your hands.
he put a pillow down on the couch and covered both of you with a blanket.
finally he looked at you,
“hey my beautiful wife.” he murmured, squeezed your hand and gave you a soft kiss on the top of your head.
“hi.” you smiled, kissing his lips softly.
“what are we watching.” he asked, his hand caressing your cheeks.
“that’s up you tonight my handsome husband.” you giggled and showed him the movies he could choose from.
after finally setting up the movie, you laid your head on gabriels chest and played with his hands. after all in past few weeks you didn’t have time for each other so you were really looking forward to enjoying your time together.
but gabriel had other plans.
he tried to hold it together, but you looked so beautiful and you smelled so nice he just had to do something about it.
at first he was at war with himself, he knew you were excited for your movie night so he didn’t want to ruin it. but halfway through the movie all he could think about was you.
he started with drawing small circles and playing with the meet of your tight. after a while his fingers just got higher and higher until he heard your breath hitched. you put your hand on top of his and looked up at him.
he was looking into your eyes, waiting for you to give any sign that he could continue with his movements. all you did was, you grabbed his hand and put it in the center or your clothed heat.
“forgive me father for i am about to sin” he mumbled.
he put your body on top of his, you straddling him, your hands in his hair, your lips never leaving his.
you slowly slowly started to grind down on him, you could feel how hard he was under his shorts.
he kissed down your neck, leaving small bites and marks, his hands gripping your hips tighter and tighter every second. suddenly he thrusted you down on his clothed cock.
you moaned out, which encouraged gabriel to go faster, one of his hands traveling down your body to put off your soaked panties.
“what do you want baby hmm?” he asked, his teasing grin reappearing.
you hid in your face in the crook of his neck, “you.. please.” you mumbled.
gabriel rolled his eyes, grabbing you by the hair so that you would face him, “be a good girl and look at me when i’m talking to you” he said.
“please… i want you.” you repeated yourself, blush creeping up your cheeks.
“be more specific honey,” he continued his teasing, squeezing your cheeks.
“want to feel you inside me please.” you begged a little.
“that’s my good girl.” he smiled, satisfied. his hand travelled down to your cunt, teasing a bit.
“stop it, please, please i need you.” you plead.
and who was he to deny such a well behaved girl.
he slowly inserted one finger inside of you, speeding now and then, adding second finger not long after.
his fingers made you see stars, his second hand rubbing your clit oh so good. you felt your orgasm approaching when your lower belly tightened.
gabriel felt it too, so… he stopped his movements.
you whined out, looking down at him, your legs trembling. “what- what’re you doing? why-“ you didn’t have time to comprehend what was happening. suddenly you were laid on your back, gabriels head between your legs.
“you can take it baby, i know you can.” he mumbled more to himself than you.
without a warning he started ravishing your dripping cunt, the feeling in your tummy returning more intense than before.
your legs were shaking, gabriel ate you out like you were his last meal.
out of a sudden, orgasm washes over you, gabriel licking up every drop of your slick heat.
he slowly kissed his way up your body, sweet phrases leaving his mouth such as:
“did so good, my beautiful girl”
“could taste you forever, my perfect girl”
he left some bite marks here and there, his possessiveness showing up. his hands were not left behind, one of them grabbed your tit, the other was left on your hip helping to grind his hips into yours.
he was nipping at your jaw, your arms were around his neck trying to get a kiss on the lips. he was such a tease sometimes!
in return, one of your hands travelled down his body, playing with the band of his shorts, your hand slowly caressing his lower belly.
he breathed out, his hand gripping your ass harder, surely leaving marks or a bruise. you took his leaking shaft into your hand, squeezing him and jerking him a little, small whimpers leaving him which got you even wetter than before.
he desperately put off his shorts, his hard, thick and leaking cock sprung out, his red tip asking for all the attention.
you centred him to your entrance, gabriel slightly teasing your wet hole, sliding in not long after.
you could never get used to the feeling of him. he is so big, so thick, his shaft is veiny and always giving you the greatest pleasure.
he slid inside of you, your noses brushing against each other, his eyes locking into yours while he gave you some to adjust to him.
after a few moments he started to grind his hips against yours. “so- so big, always get me so f- full.” you half moaned out, knowing that gabriel likes any kind of praise from you.
“squeezing me so tight baby, feels like the first time every time with you.” gabriel whispered, finally thrusting in and out of you.
you couldn’t hold moans and whimpers even if you wanted to. he always made you feel like you were on cloud nine.
“go har- harder, please.” you pleaded, which was the soft spot for gabriel.
his thrust became wilder, animalistic even, his possessive side coming up. he wanted to claim you, all of you. he wanted everyone to know that your his girl, his little beautiful wife who he intends to keep forever and beyond.
he couldn’t get the thought of you stuffed with him and pregnant with his child. that’s what god wants too.
right?
your begs and moans just turned him on more and more, his thrusts getting more and more powerful and faster each second.
suddenly the warm feeling in your lower tummy reappeared, the feeling of your high increasing. gabriel acknowledging it too because of how hard your tight walls squeezed him.
“you want to cum my dear?”
want to soak me?”
“cmon let go baby.”
he always knew what to say to you, you were like an open book to him.
“cum for me.” he commanded which was hard not to follow.
your orgasm peaked while gabriel did not slow down, overstimulating your already used cunt. your nails dug into his back, scratching him which caused gabriel to let out a loud groan.
“keep doing that and i won’t pull out sweetheart.” he mumbled into your ear.
“than don’t.” you moaned out back, your head hazy from the overstimulation that still didn’t stop.
and that was all reassurance that gabriel needed.
his pace sped up, faster than before his eyes went completely black. his only concern was to breed you nice and full of his juices.
it didn’t take long for him to get over the edge. in no time he was finishing inside of you, his hips stuttering as his thick white cum painted your soft walls.
out of breath, he fell on to of you, his head resting on your chest. your hand went up to his beautiful, long, brown hair and you started to scratched his scalp.
after few minutes, when you both finally steadied your breaths, he brought his head up, his eyes scanning your face.
he gave you a slow passionate kiss, and said , “i love you my darling, i already tied a knot with you and now i want you to be the mother of my children.”
his hand went up to caress your cheek which you gladly accepted and nuzzled your head into his hand.
“gabriel, i wouldn’t want to have kids with anyone other than you. i love you my handsome husband.” you smiled.
this sentence alone got you many many kisses and many more attempts to get you pregnant.
you know, just to be sure.
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unused art for goretober
as mentioned in this post, i had a couple takes on this year's prompts that i ended up not using. so here they are, and most of them i still really like!!
Content Warning: blood and gore, nudity
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day 10: horns. this was always going to be matt comforting tom and also a bit of backstory as to how matt knows tom likes horn scratches :3 buuut i realized it would take way too many pages and panels to make it believable, especially since this was supposed to be taking place directly after day 3: gashes. plus, monster tom wouldn't even let edd close enough to touch him after something like that, let alone matt. still like a lot of the poses here. i loooove my monster tom design <3<3<3<3
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day 12: burning. i initially really wanted to do a more detailed, gory and scary piece for this prompt still based on matt catching fire in the sun. i was super busy that day though, so i decided to go with something else. still think this sketch kicks ass though.
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day 13: headache. as you can see i got pretty dang far in this one. i knew i wanted it to be tord, but i ended up deciding this just didn't feel "headache-y" enough. even if i did add a blood splatter on the wall, tord's expression just didn't work with the prompt. i still like how this one looks, though, so i just came up with a new idea instead.
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day 29: teeth. this is by far the one i had the most trouble with. i went through many sketches with my first idea (zombie tord obv), and didn't like Any of them. teeth are not easy to draw. i actually really like how take 2 looks (right), but it didn't really match the prompt... so i went looking through my past art with zombie tord and eventually settled on a panel redraw, which i fucking LOVE.
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and finally, day 30: dinnertime. i had a lot more ideas for this one. i mean, c'mon, who doesn't love a little consensual cannibalism? <3 but i decided that something a little more symbolic with edd giving himself to his partners was the right way to go. and i really like both takes! the reason i didn't go for this one is because... yeah fuck that perspective. great idea, would be a HUGE fuckin pain to actually commit to. so i went for a similar but simpler idea that i actually think turned out way better than what i could've done with this idea.
anyway thanks for reading my rambles i love talking about my art
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shina913 · 2 days ago
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I recently had a conversation with someone about the concept of saying goodbye to former loved ones or ending relationships. It’s never a one-time event, but an ongoing, sometimes repetitive process. A piece of them stays with you forever, especially when you’re ending long-term relationships, whether platonic or romantic. Years later, you might hear a song or walk past a place you used to frequent. Suddenly, those memories you thought were long gone resurface, and you find yourself saying goodbye all over again. Each time, it might get easier, but sometimes it doesn’t, and this is exactly where this couple is at. For relationships that go as deeply as theirs, it’s never easy to just let the other go, especially when you've been through some things. Not saying what they’re doing is okay, but I think it’s worth acknowledging that some relationships are much harder to untangle than others.
Thank you so much for reading and for sending me feedback. I appreciate it!
Dandelion | KNJ
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Dandelion
Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader
Rating: M 🔞; NSFW
Genre: Infidelity!AU; exes!AU; angst; some fluff; smut
Warnings: cussing; sexually suggestive language; clit play; protected sex; questionable morals; open conversation about infidelity; hurt without comfort
Word count: 4.8K words
Summary: You and Namjoon reunite to celebrate a special evening.
A/N: If you don't like reading about cheaters - please feel free to skip! Thank you, Sim @roaminginthenights for your notes. They added more depth and nuance to the story in so many words. Thank you @midnightagust for looking this over as well and helping me simplify and improve some of the wording. I appreciate you both!
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You’re sitting in the airport parking lot, tapping your fingers happily to the beat of the song playing on your car radio. You glance at the time, it wouldn’t be too long; he’d be walking out of those doors soon. Until then, you continue to hum to the song.
Tonight is special. A night you didn’t think you’d ever celebrate again. Yet here you were, in a rental car, in a town you’d left years before.
Other than one particular overnight reservation, there are no other formal plans. You’d order takeout and perhaps pick up a bottle of wine or two from the corner store.
Your phone rings. You bring it up to check the caller ID and smile when you recognize the name flashing on the screen.
“Hi, honey!”
“Hi mom,” your daughter greets you on speakerphone.
“Is everything okay?”
She goes on to ask permission to do a facemask with her cousin. While she rambles on about other activities they have planned for their sleepover, you distantly hear the passenger door open. You quickly turn your head to smile at him then bring your pointer finger to your lips signaling him not to say a word.
“Mom? Helloooo? Are you listening to me?”
You scramble to get back to your call as your passenger shuts the door. “Uh–sure, honey. That all sounds great. Just make sure you get some sleep and listen to auntie, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And you know I told you that I have a late-night meeting so no phone calls but you can always text–”
“I know, mom.” She’s exasperated in a manner that only middle-schoolers who know it all would be. You exchange ‘I-love-you’s’ before she ends the call.
And now, you can properly greet your new arrival.
“Hi,” Namjoon says.
“Hi,” you greet him with a smile. “That was Yuna.”
“So I heard,” he smiles. “Is she sleeping over at Emma’s?”
You nod. “She’s thrilled. It’s a school night and she gets to stay up late with her favorite cousin.”
He chuckles. “I don’t know if I can top organic facemasks when she comes over next week, but I’ll try.”
“I’m sure she’ll be happy with whatever you’ve got planned for her.” 
“Right. As long as she’s happy.”
You nod then let out a long sigh before telling him, “You know, at some point, we need to stop meeting like this.” That’s what you also said last time. And the time before that. You’re fully aware of it and you think that if you say it enough times, you’d believe it and actually stop.
“I know,” he breathes out before cupping your nape to bring your face to his, sealing his lips over yours. You don’t pull away or give any hint of protest. You melt right into him, your mouth parting to let his tongue savor you.
You miss this. You miss him.
Somehow, you find the willpower to wrench yourself away from him. “Easy there. We’re still in the parking lot.”
You can see the mischief in his eyes even through his glasses. “So? It’s not like that’s stopped us before.” His hands trail between your legs, cupping your heat.
“I know but,” you gently push his hand away. “We have a reservation and it’s late so we should probably get going.”
He sighs, relenting. “Okay.” He reaches back for the seatbelt then stops short of buckling in. “By the way, happy anniversary,” he grins.
You feel a flutter in your chest and your cheeks warm up. “Happy anniversary,” you reply.
******
Namjoon scrolls through his phone, scanning for the email confirmation that contained the security code and instructions to unlock the rental.
“Are you sure you have it?”
You are both standing on the front porch of your Airbnb, using your phone's flashlight to help him see his phone better. He was nearly blind as a bat, especially in the dark, even with his glasses on.
“I’ve got it! Trust me.” He scrolls some more until he exclaims, and finally sees the coveted email.
He carefully punches the code on the door’s keypad until you hear it chime, confirming that you’ve gained access.
You walk through the door and into this place that is known to you. But seeing it again after so long, makes it feel unfamiliar.
The first thing you notice is that the foyer has been redone. The divider wall that used to separate the kitchen and living room has since been knocked down to give it a more ‘open’ layout. 
The furniture is all generic. Not much thought was put into picking them out. The colors also don’t provide much contrast to the equally bland walls. It all blends in but not in a good way.
“Why is everything so white?” You remark.
“It supposedly gives the illusion of a bright and open space.” Namjoon sets your bags at the base of the staircase.
“Feels more like a hospital to me,” you reply dryly, to his amusement. He moves into the kitchen, helping himself to the contents of the cupboards.
You follow behind, wandering over to the counter, where there is a binder listing the ‘house rules.’
“No parties, no loud music,” you read random bullet points out loud. “Quiet time at 10PM. Interesting.”
His arms circle your waist from behind, and you feel him nuzzle into your neck, planting a soft kiss. “Can you stay quiet after 10PM?” He murmurs against your skin.
“Shut up,” you giggle and break out of his hold and playfully pinch him on his side. “Only if you keep your hands to yourself after 10PM,” you tease him back, making him burst into laughter.
You walk around the place some more, scanning and assessing. You’re surprised at how many more modifications have been made. Gone were the warm, earthy tones that you painted the living room and the kitchen.
What was wrong with the way things were before? The interior designer you hired found a great way to marry modern and vintage concepts!
You shake your head in mild irritation.
The upstairs bedrooms feel just as desolate with the plain white, sanitized walls. At least the new owners attempted to break the monotony with a few framed watercolor prints and scenic photographs, no doubt purchased from a big-box store.
You find yourself standing in the midst of your old master bedroom. You see hints of the old furnishings layered with the new. It certainly wasn’t how you remembered it.
“Huh.” Namjoon says when he walks in. “Why didn’t we think of putting the bed against that side of the room before?”
You roll your eyes at him. “Because you get up to go to the bathroom more often than I do so that’s why we put it on the side that was closer to the en suite.”
His mouth drops slightly with a soft ‘ah,’ in sudden realization. “Well, I’ll have to admit, you were right. You should have ignored me and gone with your original plan.”
“I appreciate you acknowledging that, years later.” You roll your eyes and brush past him on your way out. “But as you know, marriage is about compromise,” you call past your shoulder. 
“I’m ordering the pizza!” Your voice echoes down the staircase.
Namjoon spends a few more minutes in this room, allowing himself to reminisce before finding the strength to tear himself away and rejoin you in the kitchen.
******
You’re sitting at your old kitchen counter, eating pizza and sharing a bottle of wine that Namjoon ended up stealing from the owner’s kitchen. When you question him as to whether the alcohol was included in your AirBnB reservation, he shrugs and promises to replace it instead.
“So, are you seeing anyone?”
You stop mid-bite, taken aback by his question. “Wow, already?”
“What? I’m just making conversation.” He says casually as he takes a sip of wine. “And I’m nosy,” he snickers.
You giggle at his admission. “Nope, not seeing anyone. I had–what I thought was a connection a month ago…but that was a false flag. I’ve decided to hang back, take a break…be alone for a bit, you know? I’m not really looking for anything serious anyway.”
His expression turns sullen. He clears his throat before saying, “I thought you had a connection with Seojun. Things looked pretty serious.”
The reminder of your fatal mistake doesn’t sting as much as it did before. And he wasn’t as angry and bitter when he brings it up.
“Seojun was…” you sigh, collecting your thoughts so as not to create unnecessary ripples in this still water. “He was good for me at the time. He was who I needed at the time. But long-term?” You scrunch your face and shook your head. “I didn’t think that far down the road.” 
He used to always ask ‘why.’ Why did you do what you did? Why did you make those choices?
You were together for five years before you married. Two years later, you had Yuna and everything seemed picture-perfect. You thought that you were doing well and that you might really have a knack for marriage and monogamy. It was a point in your relationship when you thought that nothing could ever break you.
But it turns out that anything and everything can break you.
Seojun came along and it was as if something that had long been dormant ignited within you. You thought it would be a one-off, but it wasn’t. For months you thought Namjoon would suspect whether anything felt off. It wasn’t like you were trying to get caught but maybe some part of you wanted him to catch you. But that didn’t happen. Instead, he seemed happily blissful in his own world, seeing everything through rose-colored lenses.
You pick up your wine glass and tip the contents into your mouth, emptying it. When you set it back down on the counter, you look at him, staring at you.
“But you loved him, right?” He asks between mouthfuls of pizza.
You pause for a few long beats before responding. “Sure. In a way, yeah.” Your answer is noncommittal but the truth was, you didn’t know for sure if what you felt for Seojun was love. It certainly wasn’t the same as what you felt for Namjoon. He was in his own category.
“I don’t get it though. Why would you want to be alone?”
You scoff and straighten in your seat, feeling the urge to be defensive. “I don’t get why you’re suddenly concerned about my choice to be alone.”
“No, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He switches tact, sensing that your walls start to go back up. “I remember back then, you used to say that a lot…that you like being alone and that you didn’t believe in marriage or lifelong partnership. And yet–you still agreed to marry me when I asked. So no, I don’t believe that your ultimate desire or goal is to be alone.”
You pour yourself another glass. “You were different. Being with you, what we had–it made me want to prove myself wrong. That perhaps I do have the marriage gene in me and I can make it last.” You pick at a piece of pepperoni on your slice. “I’d like to believe that I did. I tried to keep things together to make things work for us.”
Namjoon reaches for your hand and brushes his fingers over your knuckles in an attempt to console you.
“Turned out well, right?” You remark sarcastically, throwing your free hand up in defeat. “I failed. So, I conclude that I just don’t have it in me.” 
“The marriage gene?”
“Uh-huh. I’m doomed!” You laugh darkly.
You were happily resigned to that fact. Namjoon was a beautiful anomaly. While your time may have been short-lived, it still added meaning to your generally doomed perspective on marriage and relationships.
His fingers curl around your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I thought you were great at it.”
You smile wistfully and bring his hand up to your lips to kiss it. “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”
******
You were in the upstairs bathroom washing up when Namjoon excused himself to retrieve a couple of things from his jacket pocket downstairs when his phone starts buzzing.
“Hello?” He answers.
“Hey, how’s it going? I’ve been trying to reach you. How was your flight?” the female voice says on the other line.
He clears his throat and hides away in what used to be his office. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, sweetheart. You know how it is at my dad’s house. The reception’s shit.”
“Why are you whispering?” She asks.
“Dad just fell asleep. You know how he’s such a light sleeper.”
“Oh, yeah. You’re right. Do you think you’ll be able to finish up whatever you need to over there? I have some miles on my card and fly out tomorrow to come over and help?”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Namjoon tells her calmly. “Dad and I are just about done packing up some of his old things here so, he’ll be ready to move into the facility. He’s really looking forward to it.”
“Is he? That’s great.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I have to go. I’m trying to sort through a few more of his things here while he sleeps. I work faster when he doesn’t stop to admire each item and talk about what it meant to him.”
“Okay. Just call me if your flight changes. I love you!”
He hears the floorboard creak and looks up from his seat to find you leaning against the door frame, dressed in nothing but a black lace teddy. Biting his lower lip, he says, “I love you, too.”
As soon as he hangs up, he tugs at your wrist and ravishes you.
******
“You think she’d ever suspect anything between us?” You wonder out loud while you both lay naked in your former marriage bed, basking in your post-sex high.
He shakes his head adamantly. “I think ‘you and me’ is the last thing on her mind.”
You laugh at how confident he made that sound.
“I’m serious!” He says firmly. “This is not even remotely on her list of possibilities! She knows what happened between us so this is highly unlikely for her.”
You sit up against the headboard and stare at him in disbelief. “You told her about us?”
He shrugs, not seeing the problem with it. “It was all part of my therapy and healing process so…yeah. I told her everything.”
“So, does she think I’m, like, the devil incarnate or something?” You try to mask the pang of guilt in your chest by making light of it.
“Nah. She doesn’t really think about you.” Then he immediately adds, “I’m not saying that to be hurtful or dismissive. I think at the time she thought she was somebody who could, I don’t know, put me back together or something.”
Even though you’ve both said your pieces over the years and talked things over, traded apologies, and accepted them, it still felt inadequate.
“I’m sorry,” you say instinctively.
He sits up to mirror your posture and dips his head to kiss your bare shoulder. “You’ve said that already.”
“Yeah but–” He cuts you off mid-sentence with another kiss, his lips lingering over yours.
“No buts. We’re good, okay? I’m good.” He reassures you.
But you press him anyway. “Okay, I’m sorry to keep dropping the reality check here but what if she finds out?” 
He sighs, a wry smile on his lips. “If she does…” he trails off without finishing his thought. He straightens his posture, turning serious. “I guess you could say that I’m no longer scared of being labeled the bad guy. I spent a good chunk of my life trying to do the right thing and being a good person. Always doing what is morally acceptable.”
You tilt your head at him in curiosity. He’s changed a lot, but just like your old house, even though the fixtures have been replaced, walls knocked down and repainted, and furniture layout rearranged, you can still see hints of what it used to be.
He’s still the same Namjoon you fell in love with, beneath this new cynical, detached exterior. He wasn’t always open about his emotions but in the rare cases that he would wear his heart on his sleeve, you saw and felt it.
Right now, he was baring his soul to you.
“I’m not saying that I’m proud of it. You know, the affairs. I have needs that she can’t fulfill,” he shrugs. “There’s acceptance on my part. I’m not trying to claim righteousness or hide behind morals. And that’s okay. I’m okay with that!”
You’re silent as you take in his ruminations. In a way, it saddens you that he’s adopted this perspective. You always knew him as an idealist–someone who, as he said himself, ‘always did the right thing.’ Which was why it crushed him when you confessed your infidelity.
He stares at you for a minute before breaking into a chuckle. “What?”
“What?” You echo, your eyebrows furrowing.
“Say something!” He laughs.
“I mean, what do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know! Anything. Scold me or, I don’t know…tell me that this isn’t right. ‘Your wife doesn’t deserve this! You’re a terrible husband!’” He says jokingly.
“I am the last person to judge, okay? If it doesn’t keep you up at night…” you trail off.
He nods at that.
But then you cock your eyebrow at him, picking up on what he said moments ago. “So, ‘affairs?’ You mean, there’s more?”
“I had some fling a few months ago. It was meaningless,” he add quickly, as if that contributed to anything. “And there were a couple of one-night stands but I don’t think they count.”
“Mm…” you hum vaguely.
******
Namjoon cracks open another bottle of wine and brings it upstairs, where you both drink in bed and continue to trade stories.
“I didn’t really want to get married again. We were having a good time and she’s great,” he recounts the early days of his new relationship. “Sometimes it’s easy to confuse great sex with love.”
“Mm-hmm. Speak for yourself,” you remark.
He smirks at your comment. “But…there she was, down on one knee, asking me to marry her. And so I did. We’ve been living together anyway so, might as well, right?” He shifts and changes his tone, feeling the need to clarify that he’s not a complete asshole. “I hope you’re not taking this the wrong way but she and I are good. We’re comfortable. It’s like, we speak the same language.” 
He’s tipsy and babbling but you let him. “That’s great,” you smile softly, taking a sip of wine.
“The sex is not.” You nearly choke at his revelation. “A month after we got married–phew–” He makes a whistling sound and makes a quick, swooping gesture with his hand. “Out the door, it went.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say with all sincerity.
He shrugs. “It is what it is.”
“But don’t you love her?”
He purses his lips and tilts his head from side to side. “In a certain way, sure.” He mirrors your answer from earlier this evening.
You nod vaguely, letting the words hang in the air while you both fall into a comfortable silence.
After a few beats he says, “I’ll never love anyone the way I loved you. That’s a fact.”
This isn’t the first time he’s told you this. He’s declared it several times, at least once during one of your clandestine meetings.
“When we were together, I never thought we’d split up. That never occurred to me. So–what I have with her it’s…it’s an entirely different kind of love. But if or when she suddenly comes to me and asks for a divorce, I’d give it to her. I feel like that’s where this is headed anyway.” He downs the rest of his wine before setting it down on the nightstand. “I would compare it to a piece of tape. You stick it on then peel it off and try to stick it someplace else. It might take, if you tried hard enough but…it’s never quite the same.”
You lick your dried-out lips and let out a shaky breath. “God, that sounds really sad,” your voice cracks.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not sad about it so you shouldn’t be!” He maintains his lightheartedness. “I think it’s perfectly fine to have different types of love, different types of relationships. Mine happens to be unconventional.”
“Unconventional, yes. But the way you speak about it, it’s as if you’re saying that you’re totally comfortable with the fact that you’ll never truly love again. That’s what saddens me.”
“I never said that,” he says in defense. “I never said I’ll never truly love again.” Then he looks you in the eye and says matter-of-factly, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
The look he gives you sends an involuntary shiver down to your spine which makes its way between your legs. “Yes, but what we have is different. We’ve both gone through the worst possible thing that could happen in our relationship; which is why when you’re with me, there are no surprises. No unrealistic expectations. There’s no fear lurking around because it’s all laid out for you.”
His expression is steady and unchanged. “And I’m saying this is what works for me right now. This is what works for us–”
“Ugh, Namjoon…” you groan, sinking back into the mattress and turning on your side, facing away from him. “That’s such a fucked up way of looking at the situation. You know how fucked up we are! We’re still reeling from how our marriage ended and…” You bury your face in your palms and groan in frustration again. “Who would have thought even after we signed those papers, that it didn’t really mean the end…Like, right that second? I wish that somebody told us that breaking up takes much longer than that.”
You feel the bed dip behind you as he scoots closer, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. “It’s like we said, it just takes time, baby.”
“But it’s been five years!” You whine petulantly. “I just want to be done with it! You said that after we’re divorced, we’d move on and start fresh.” You turn your body around, his face is so close to yours. “Now, we’re just in this endless cycle of grief and trauma.”
You close your eyes and you feel him press his forehead on yours in silent agreement. You don’t remember how long you hold each other like that. He quiets your whimpers with the softest kisses until you both drift off to sleep.
******
“No!” Namjoon cries out, jolting you both awake. He sits up abruptly, with his head in his hands. His back is covered in sweat and his heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest.
“Hey.” You sit up and rub circles on his back consolingly. “Did you have a bad dream?”
“Yeah,” he sniffs and wipes his tears away.
You offer to get him a drink of water but he declines. He gets out of bed and paces around the room.
“Do you want to talk to me about it?”
“Uh…” he breathes before sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah. I’m…trying to remember bits and pieces.” He takes a minute to regulate his breathing while simultaneously collecting his thoughts. “We were walking down the street, coming back from a dinner party or something. And then, we needed to cross the street for whatever reason.”
You hug your knees to your chest while you listen to him.
“I was holding your hand so we could go together but you went on and darted out into the dark road. I kept calling out to you but you kept moving farther away from me. I tried so hard to run after you but it was as if my feet were sealed into the concrete.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “I felt so helpless because I wanted to get to you and–I couldn’t see you. You were gone.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. C’mere,” You open up your arms and beckon him to come back to bed.
He obliges and nuzzles into touch. “I couldn’t get to you,” he cried.
“It was just a dream, baby.” You whisper calmly into his ear, rubbing his back to console him.
He burrows his face into the crook of your neck. “It’s not the first time I had a dream about losing you. I’ve had different versions of that dream where you disappear into the dark and I can’t move my body to reach out to you. It’s like–I’m perpetually stuck or something.”
All you can do is listen. This was his trauma talking. You continue to rub his back and rock him gently.
“You know, sometimes I wonder if…if I’ll ever love anybody. Like, truly love them. Or maybe I’ve never been truly loved before. Maybe…maybe that’s what it means. I’ll never be able to have the ability to–“ 
“Hey,” you interject. You pull his face away from your shoulder and cup his cheeks. “Listen to me— I love you. In my own… twisted way. And I know that you love me. In your own way.”
He smiles ruefully, his eyes welling up with emotion.
You gaze at him, brushing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. “I will always love you,” you say reassuringly before bringing your lips to his.
Your gentle kisses turn hungry and you can’t help when your body responds to him instinctively. Your need for him is unrelenting.
One moment he’s telling you about a nightmare and the next, you’re wrapped up in each other’s arms, your legs on either side of his hips. It doesn’t take him long to be ready for you, especially when you’re naked and bare for him.
You undulate your hips, grinding your slick over his length. His hands gripping your waist, guiding you while you pleasure yourself with the delicious friction.
“Mm, you’re so wet for me,” he whispers, reaching between you to rub circles on your clit.
“Mm-hmm,” is all you can muster.
“You ready for me, huh?” He nips at your bottom lip.
You give him a nod and he manages to pause his ministrations to reach across the nightstand. Once he sheaths himself, he takes one swift move and slips right into your center.
Each thrust is purposeful. Your fingers grip his hair as you moan into his shoulder. He gently sinks his teeth into your tender flesh, groaning. You're both floating and it’s a special kind of high.
One look at him and you heat up to a fever pitch. You take comfort in the deep baritone of his voice, goading you, whispering his naughtiest fantasies about you when you’re apart. You feel him touch you and you know it’s what you’ve been missing. He completes you. 
You move in perfect sync as if you never separated. When you’re intimate like this, the questions and doubts fade when your bodies close in, filling every gap. Your connection is unrivaled.
He pulls back. “You close?”
Not that he needed an answer but he just loves watching you come undone. He ups the ante, cupping your ass cheeks and combining deep plunges with swivels, thrusting sharply and retracting slowly. Your head lolls back, dizzy with pleasure and at the same time awed by the heights he takes you to. Places where you can simultaneously forget and remember. Where nothing and nobody else exists except you and him and the mutual passion you share.
The sweat misting his brow glistens in the dusky light, his face beginning to strain as your release crests and finally crashes down. Instantly, you shudder, the tingling becoming too much to bear, your skin too sensitive. He is attuned to your body, because he stops his movements and applies pressure where you need it, keeping your hypersensitivity at bay, as his own climax hits him hard. His growls are suppressed, his face crimson with the rush of blood to his head. Your walls squeeze him greedily, prolonging your pleasure as he empties himself into you.
Namjoon drops you both onto the mattress, collapsing in a heap of exhaustion. He is glued to your slick chest, where he will remain for the next ten minutes, snoozing, nuzzling, and kissing your neck. You hold him and savor the moment before you part and return to the alternate realities you both worked hard to establish.
Deep down, you know you’ve ruined him. You didn’t mean to. He was nothing but an innocent bystander in your own path of self-destruction. Perhaps, as your lifelong penance, you’d spend the rest of your days assuring him that he’s not broken and that he deserves unconditional love. 
You breathe into his shoulder as you settle, holding him as close as you possibly can. In your own quiet way, you're telling him that you're happy to remain like this.
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musings-of-a-rose · 12 hours ago
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Hi, just wanted to say that I love your work! Especially with Benny and Frankie so much that I have an idea for Benny! Female reader (not picky about the name) meets Benny at a bar days after she catches her now ex-boyfriend cheating on her and they hook up at his place, but she leaves before he wakes up. She later finds out she's pregnant but doesn't tell anyone who the father is. Months later while still pregnant, her friends convince her to come with them to see a MMA fight and low and behold Benny is there fighting. He doesn't see her at first, but when the fight ends (which he wins) he sees her and she leaves abruptly while hiding her stomach since she's wearing baggy clothing. However, Benny manages to catch up to her, where she reveals the news to him. They then talk some more at her place where he reveals to her that she's been on his mind ever since that night and begins the start of something new.
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One Night Can Change Everything
Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader 
Word Count: 6400+
Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 
Notes: Rea is a general nickname for a “reader” character that @mermaidxatxheart came up with and I think that’s genius! This is not beta’d.
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**Reader is not described
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“Ok, that’s it. I’m making you get out of this bed now,” My best friend Sage declares as she towers over my bed, where I have lived for the past several days. Ever since I caught my boyfriend sleeping with my co-worker. Co-workerS.
Ex-boyfriend now, I suppose. 
I groan, attempting to roll over but Sage grabs my shoulder and flips me back over, digging her fingers lovingly into my skin. “I love you Rea, I do. But you have to get out of this bed. He’s not worth it.”
She’s right. I know she is. But we had been dating for nearly 2 years, mostly. It was on and off, but we had talked about marriage, kids, all of it. I thought he would be my forever but apparently, I was his “for now”. 
Fuck this asshole.
I sit up quickly, nearly colliding with Sage, and yank the covers off me, determination flooding my veins, choking out the hurt. For now, at least. 
“Alright, alright. I’m up.”
Sage points to the bathroom. “First, please take a shower. Then we’re going to Mick’s.” 
I’d almost forgotten about Mick’s, Sage’s favorite bar. Probably because it’s full of rugged, blue-collar men and Sage definitely has a type. Not that I can blame her. 
“Ok, but I’m just going for you. And science.”
Sage snorts. “Sure, Rea. Sure. Don’t forget to shave.”
—--------------
An hour later and I’m walking into Mick’s front door, loud music vibrating through me. It’s busy, but I’ve seen it busier and we manage to snag a couple of stools at the bar. Within 10 minutes, Sage is led to the dance floor by some burly lumberjack, complete with flannel shirt and all. I throw my hand up in the air in a “what about me” motion as she glances behind her, shrugging and gesturing around the room before focusing all of her attention on the flannel clad bear of a man in front of her, who is surprisingly agile. I turn back to the bar, taking my hand off the top of my glass, tossing the last of the liquid down my throat, coughing slightly at the burn. I set my glass down, my finger trailing along the rim, wondering if I should call an Uber or wait for my friend, when a man slides in next to me, flagging down the bartender. 
“5 beers, please.” His voice has a slight drawl to it, his tone warming me all over. 
“Seems a lot for one man.” Where the hell did that courage come from?
The man, clad in a button up light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up that opens to reveal a camo print shirt, turns his head to me and for what feels like days, I’m rendered speechless. This man is gorgeous - a sloping nose,  sandy blonde hair that flips out from behind his backward hat, some patchy facial hair, and the most intensely blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They glance quickly down my body and back up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 
“Ain’t all for me, sweetheart. Got a table full of impatient assholes waiting for a beer.”
I cock my head to the side. “You lose a bet or something?”
The man tips his head back and laughs, his shoulders shaking with it and I feel my body tingle. I could listen to that sound forever. 
“How the hell did you know that?” His smile is wide, all of his attention on me, his eyebrows raised in question.
I shrug. “I’d send the guy who lost a bet to get the first round, at least.”
He chuckles. “Smart girl…I’m Ben. Friends call me Benny.”
I tell him my name. “But my friends call me Rea.”
“I like that. Nice to meet you, Rea.” He sticks his hand out to shake mine, but before I can, 4 beers slide in front of him and he glances down at them, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly. 
Finding courage from somewhere, I lay my hand on his forearm and have to resist squeezing. “You have to go back so soon?”
He smiles again, the skin around his eyes crinkling with it. “Nah, sweetheart. I’ll be right back. Promise me you’ll wait right here?” There go the eyebrows again, pulling together and making him look like a puppy. Fuck I am so screwed.
“I’ll be waiting.”
He hesitates for a brief second before taking my hand and kissing the back of it. “Now that’s something to make a man move fast.” He winks, grabs the four beers, and heads off into the crowd, making his way towards the back of the room. Hate to see him leave, but damn I’m loving watching him go, his 6’3 frame easily visible over the crowd. He drops off the beers somewhere at the back of the room, turning quickly to push his way back through the crowd, his eyes locking on mine and giving me a sly smile. 
“You waited.” He slides back into the barstool next to me as I pull my leg from it, the universal gesture for this is saved.
Fuck his eyes are so blue. “You came back.”
A smile plays at the corner of his lips. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
I look down for a moment, my mind going back to my ex and all of his cheating, making me feel less than. Benny seems to sense something, his large hand hesitating a moment before he gently squeezes my arm. “You ok?”
I shake my head, my eyes locking back on his blues. “Yeah. I’m great now you’re here.”
Benny is easy to talk to, fun, and flirty. He’s in Delta Force, or was, with his actual brother, one of the men that he’d owed a beer to earlier. We talk about everything and anything, Benny eventually pulling me to the dance floor and whisking me about, sometimes dancing and other times being silly and smiling when I laugh. After several songs, we need a break, managing to snag a couple of stools at the bar, sipping on a couple of drinks. 
“So you live local?” He asks me, taking another swig from his beer.
I nod. “Yeah. I don’t typically come here, but my friend Sage dragged me out of the house.”
“Well remind me to thank her. She here?”
“Actually,” I turn and look out at the crowd for several moments, finally seeing her in the back corner, making out with Flannel Bear Man. I chuckle. “Yeah, she’s a little occupied.”
Benny chuckles, taking another swig of his beer, his free hand hesitating a moment before landing on my bare thigh, just above my knee. “Well I can keep you company.” 
His warm hand against my skin has my brain short-circuiting. I can’t think of what to say so I return his question. “Are you local?”
He nods, his thumb slowly rubbing circles across my skin. “Yeah. But some water main or somethin’ broke in my building. They put us all up in hotels until they fix it. Burst a few pipes.”
“Oh no! Is your stuff ok?” I place my hand over his on my leg, giving it a little squeeze and move it further up my thigh, heat immediately rushing to an area not far from where his hand is. 
He clears his throat. “Uh, y-yeah. Well, I had some water damage but didn’t lose anythin’ big. They just have to put down new floors.”
The music volume suddenly goes up by several volumes, turning the place into a mini club. Benny winces and I can see that it triggers him, the loud sounds and people becoming a little much. I lean in closer to his ear, gently rubbing circles into the back of his hand. 
“It’s too fucking loud! Wanna get out of here?” I pull my head back to look at him, our faces only an inch apart. His eyes flit between mine, briefly pausing on my lips.
“If you’re sure, hell yeah.”
I smile and he returns it before I lean back into his ear. “Let me flag my friend down and let her know. Stay right here so I don’t lose you.”
He turns his head, his nose brushing against my cheek. “I’ll be right here.” Hating that I have to move, I gently place his hand on his thigh and give him a wink before turning, scanning the corner where I had last seen Sage. She’s still there, Flannel Bear Man sucking on her neck. I force my way through the crowd and eventually emerge in front of her. Sage’s gaze takes a moment to settle on me.
“Rea! Where’ve you been?” She yells above the music.
I gesture to where I came from. “At the bar. Waiting for you.”
She gasps as Flannel Bear Man starts to bite her skin. “S-sorry, Rea. I-”
I cut her off, not wanting to intrude any longer. “No worries. I’m getting out of here. With a guy. I’ll get an Uber.”
Sage reaches out and grips my wrist, breaking the suction from Flannel Man who only seems to just realize I’m standing here. 
“A guy? You found someone? Do you need condoms?”
“Sage! I have to go!”
“Wait!” She pulls her clutch from somewhere and digs around in it, quickly sliding a few foiled square packages in my hand. “ Remember, it’s just a rebound. Don’t get attached. Have fun and be safe!”
I can’t help the heat in my cheeks, but I tuck the condoms in my bag. “Thanks. I’ll ping you my location.”
Sage releases my wrist and smiles at me before I turn back to Benny, shoving my way through more bodies on the dance floor. I emerge on the other side and see him still sitting where I left him, hat turned backward and looking so fucking hot. 
This is all so unlike me, but I like Benny. Sage’s words echo through my head “it’s just a rebound. Have some fun.”
I walk up to Benny and he turns his head, standing and giving me a wide smile. “Ready to go, sweetheart?”
I nod and he offers me his hand, which I happily accept, his touch warming me all over as he guides us through the crowd and out the front door, the volume immediately decreasing the moment the door closes behind us. 
“Now I can hear myself think!” Benny chuckles as he pulls my hand to his lips, lightly brushing them against my knuckles, his puppy dog eyes on mine. “Did you drive?
“Hhhm? Oh, uh no. Uber.”
Benny nods. “I have my jeep. I can drive us somewhere? Unless you’d feel safer using Uber?”
I study him for a moment, deciding that I trust him. “I love Jeeps.”
He smiles, his grip on my hand tightening slightly as he directs me to the parking lot, chatting a little too fast about his Jeep, like he’s nervous. He helps me into the passenger side, sliding across the hood to make it to the driver’s side quicker, smiling at my laugh. He starts the Jeep and gets the ac started before turning to me.
“Where to?”
It’s just a rebound. Have fun. “I’d love to see your hotel.”
His eyebrows raise, that same smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah? You don’t have to. I mean, we could just get a burger or somethin’.”
I look down at my hands in my lap. Did I misread the signals? He was definitely coming on to me, right? I wasn’t reading into that? Before I can spiral further, Benny puts his hand over mine. “Hey, look. I like you and think you’re fucking hot as hell and would love to take you to my room to uh, show you the room. But I don’t want to presume or make you feel obligated or anything.”
I would choose a fucking gentlemen for a rebound. Fuck. I close my hand over his and meet his eyes. “Thanks, Benny. I don’t want to push you or presume either.”
He chuckles once, removing his hand to put his Jeep in reverse and then back into drive. “Sweetheart, you can take advantage of me any day.”
That breaks the awkwardness and has us laughing, falling back into conversation easily as Benny navigates through traffic. Gently, I lay his hand on my bare thigh again, wrapping my hand over his. He’s talking about something, I honestly can’t focus because he’s started to move, his fingers tracing slow lines across my skin as his hand moves further up my leg, getting closer to where I desperately want him to be. We hit a red light and the Jeep goes quiet, Benny turning to look at me as he slides his hand further up, his pinkie finger just barely tracing the crease of my thigh, heat and wet pooling just beyond his touch. My lips part and I let out a gasp of air, my eyes finding his. 
There’s a moment of hesitation but then I grip his shirt, pulling him towards me, our lips crashing together. He nips at my bottom lip and I gasp, Benny taking full advantage to slide his tongue into my open mouth, a small moan escaping me. His free hand leaves the steering wheel to grip the back of my head, holding me to him as he explores my mouth. The car behind us honks and we jump apart, the light having already turned green. Benny sticks his hand up to apologize to the car behind us, driving on, but immediately places his hand back on me, this time, his pinkie grazes up my panties and I squirm a little in my seat, not used to this much attention. He stills his movements.
“Is it too much?” He’s actually concerned.
“More like, not enough.”
Benny makes it to his hotel in record time.
Heated touches and kisses down the hallway has Benny dropping his room key a few times. As he tries to jam it into the lock, I slide my hands around him from behind, moving up his stomach from under his shirt and fuck he has a nice body, my hands moving lightly over his toned chest. He finally jams the key into the lock and flings the door open, tossing his keys on top of the dresser. He spins back around to face me, his eyes blown wide and dark with lust. 
He swallows hard. “Are you…are you sure?”
I step close to Benny, gently take his wrist and turn his hand palm up. One hand still holding his, I open my bag and fish out one of the foil squares, and place the condom in Benny’s hand. He glances down at it before looking back at me, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
“Rea, did you get a condom from your friend?”
I can feel the heat blooming in my cheeks. “No! I mean, technically yes but she-”
He cuts me off with his lips, one hand wrapped around my head and the other grips my hips, fingers digging into my skin as he pulls me flush against him. I can feel him hard beneath his jeans and I moan into his kiss, pressing myself against him so I can try to relieve some of the rapidly increasing hear between my thighs. He moves us and I feel the bed hit the back of my knees, but he holds me tighter before breaking the kiss. Both of us rip the shirts from our bodies, my bra quickly following. I reach for my pants but he grabs my wrists and stills them, his blue eys falling to my chest. He gently cups a boob and lightly pinches the nipple and I gasp, the small movement shooting straight between my legs. 
Then Benny sinks to his knees, eye level with my pants. He pops open the button on my jeans, sliding them down my legs where I help him kick them off. His large fingers trace the outline of my panties, the heat pooling there as I gasp at his touch. He hooks his fingers into them and slides them down my legs too, his eyes locked on the space between my thighs. 
“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he half whispers. A half chuckle escapes me before it turns into a moan as he slides his nose up my slit, bumping into my clit. He growls, using my hips to push me down on the bed, tossing my legs over his shoulders like it was nothing. 
Which I have no time to think about because his mouth is on me, his hands on my inner thighs, pressing them further apart, widening his canvas. His tongue explores me, seeking all the areas that have me writhing under his firm grip. He somehow finds spots that I didn’t even know existed, sucking lightly, lapping, the coil of pleasure quickly tightening until a sound erupts from me, somewhere between a chant and a moan, my fingers gripping his hair to keep him in the same spot as he prolongs my release. 
My head is in a blissful haze, but I manage a whine as he pulls away from me, taking his pants off when he does. I hear the sound of the condom opening and I watch him as he rolls the condom on himself. I lean up on my elbows to see better, because he’s gorgeous, not girthy but longer, and definitely not anywhere near a size I’ve had in me. 
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take my time.” I blink, looking up at his face and see that there’s a hint of concern there, like he wants to make sure I’m comfortable.
I scoot further up on the bed to give him more space. “Don’t worry about me. I can take you.”
His eyes darken and he grabs my ankle, yanking me back down towards the end of the bed. I squeal, my body heating up again as he lowers himself between my legs. He pauses, his eyes bright as he glances between my own. 
“You’re so beautiful,” there’s that almost whisper voice again, his eyebrows pulling together so he looks like a puppy.
“So are you, Benny.” We take each other in for a few more moments, my body about to burst with all of the tension and hormones racing through it. “Now please fuck me, now.” I know I’m begging, but I don’t care. 
And neither does Benny, apparently, as he smirks. “Yes ma’am.”
He slowly presses his hips forward and I let out a moan as he stretches me, pushing further and further in. I’m not sure how, but he bottoms out, dropping his head to my chest, breathing heavy for a moment. 
“Fuck, you feel so good. Gimme a sec so I don’t blow my load like a teenager.”
I manage some sort of confirmation sound, but then a moment later, he slowly pulls out and presses back in, repeating this a few times so I can adjust to his length. It’s driving me mad and I writhe under him, feeling every inch of him as he slowly moves in and out of me. He pulls out, his hips pausing as he looks down at me and it’s like time stops. Just for a moment. Then his lips crash to mine as he pushes forward quickly, sliding into me in one fast movement and I cry out, my hands gripping his biceps, nails digging into his skin as his hips set a fast pace, his direction and speed adjusting to my moans of pleasure. Every time he pushes in, he hits a spot somewhere at the back of me, a place no one has touched, and it sends sparks through my vision, my entire body like a livewire as he pushes me towards the edge.
“Fuck, Benny, I’m gonna-” my body ignites, pleasure radiating out from my cunt, his name tumbling from my lips in praise, begging him to keep going, or stop, or do it again. I have no idea, my head so engulfed in pleasure. 
“Fuck!” He yells, pressing into me one last time before he grunts, little pants and gasps tumbling from him. His head falls to my chest as he comes down. 
We stay like that for several moments, trying to catch our breath. Eventually, Benny pulls out, tossing the condom in the trash can by the bed before rolling onto his back next to me.
“What’s your third favorite dinosaur?”
I laugh, my entire body moving with it as Benny joins in, tears running down our cheeks as my movements turn me towards him. 
“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question, let alone just after sex.”
Benny shrugs, smiling. “Had to break the tension and awkwardness somehow.” 
“Well that definitely works!”
His face grows serious. “You didn’t answer the question.”
After that laughing fit, I think on it a moment. “Pterodactyl. Because they can fly.”
Benny nods. “Interesting. What’s your favorite then?”
“Nope. I’m saving that answer for after round 2.”
His eyes grow dark almost instantly. “Round 2? Like, tonight?”
“Well, my friend gave me a whole row of condoms and I don’t want to take any home.”
—----
A few hours later, I’m laying in Benny’s bed, thoroughly fucked, Benny sprawled across the bed on his stomach, lightly snoring. He’s so fucking beautiful. But then Sage’s words echo in my head “It’s just a rebound. Have fun and bounce.” I sigh, unsure of what to do. I actually do like Benny, but is that just because he’s the first guy to actually pay attention to me in a long while? Self-doubt seeps in, my ex’s hurtful words and actions taking away the blissful feeling I’d had moments before. I shake my head, telling myself that if any of it was true, I wouldn’t be in a gorgeous man’s bed, a man who just spent the last few hours pulling every spark of pleasure possible from me. 
I quietly stand, gathering up my clothes. I get them on and lace up my boots, trying not to wake Benny. It’s better if I leave before he wakes up. Rebounds don’t work out anyway, so why prolong the inevitable? 
I turn to head towards the door and see the hotel pad of paper and pen next to the phone on the dresser. I stare at it a moment before grabbing the pen, scrawling a quick “Thank You” with a heart at the end. I slide it under his keys and walk to the door, glancing back at the sleeping form of Benny, the man who just restored my confidence. I close it quietly behind me, making sure the lock clicks into place and request an Uber to take me home. 
—----
Over the next few weeks, I try to get Benny out of my head. I try to stop thinking about him or talking about him. I know he’s a rebound, and those relationships don’t work out, as Sage has reminded me more than once. And I’m not sure I’m ready for a new relationship. I think. But talking to him had been so easy, effortless. Like we had been friends since forever. In a moment of desperation, I looked up the hotel on my Uber app and called it, knowing they wouldn’t give me any information about Benny. I can’t blame them. I don’t even know his last name. 
—----
2 lines. The pink lines emerge bright against the white of the testing stick, showing me the same result as the other 4 pregnancy tests I’d taken. My stomach lurches again and I make it to the toilet just in time. I close the lid and flush, wiping my mouth with a washcloth as I stare at my reflection. How the fuck did this happen? We’d used a condom every time, and he used them correctly. It must have been a faulty condom. Fuck, Benny. How am I going to tell him? No really, how? I don’t even know his last name and now I’m having his child. A knock at the door pulls me from my spiral.
“Rea?”
I sniff and wipe my face again. “Pregnant.”
She’s silent for just a beat. “Can I come in?”
I make a noise in approval and she opens the door, heads directly for me and pulls me into a hug where I let myself lose it. Tears streaming down my face, dry heaving breaths, all of it. It takes me a while to calm down enough to talk. Sage wipes my face with a cool cloth and it helps to soothe me a bit more. 
“Are you going to tell him?”
I scoff. “How, Sage?”
She shrugs. ��I don’t know. Call the hotel? They have to have his info.”
I shake my head. “They won’t give it to me. Especially since I don’t know his last name.”
Sage cocks her head to the side. “How do you know?”
“Oh. I uh, I may have called a few weeks ago to uh try and uh…find. Him.”
She opens her mouth and then closes it. “That doesn’t really matter now. Do you know what you want to do?”
There’s so much I don’t know. I don’t know Benny’s last name. I don’t know where he lives, just that it’s local. I don’t know what he’d even say. I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know a lot. But there’s one thing that I did know right away.
“I’m keeping the baby.”
Sage takes a deep breath and nods once. “I can’t wait to be an auntie.”
—----
“Come on, Rea! You need to get out.”
I sigh, rubbing the side of my belly. “I’m 6 months pregnant, Sage. I don’t belong at an MMA fight.”
Sage copies my sigh and places her hand over mine. “You’ve been cooped up in your room for weeks. Just…come out to get some fresh air?”
“By sitting in a crowded auditorium surrounded by drunks?”
Sage shrugs. “I’m sure they won’t be drunk drunk. Besides, Henry has a special section all roped off just for us.” 
Henry is super sweet. The burly bear sized, flannel clad man from Mick’s had fit right into our friendship, even becoming a sort of surrogate brother for me. And it’s clear to me that he loves Sage with everything he is just by the way he looks at her.
I sigh again, shrugging in a defeated manner. Sage squeals and grips my arm. “Thank you! Oh, you’ll have fun! Just wait and see!”
So now I find myself in a crowded auditorium, surrounded by people drinking. Well, ok the crowd isn’t bad around us. Sage was right - Henry had literally roped off an entire section just for us and glared at anyone who tried to grumble about it. He was really into MMA and had a couple of cousins that were fighting so he always had tickets to some match that was happening. Are they called matches? I don’t know. 
Whatever they’re called, we’re a few in, Henry leaning over to tell us about each of the fighters as they’re announced. These matches are pretty brutal - I didn’t realize just how violent they can get, even with rules in place. The last match ends and the guy with the mop comes back out, cleaning away the blood that came from the last guy losing several teeth with a blow. Once cleaned, the microphone squeaks back on to announce the next fighters.
“From Red Feather Lakes, Colorado, standing 6’3, weighing in at 195 pounds, I give you BEN MILLER!”
A familiar memory scratches at the back of my head as the crowd screams and the doors open from the locker rooms somewhere in the throngs of people now on their feet. Henry leans in to yell in my ear.
“This guy is great! He’s kicked my cousin’s asses a few times! He…”
Whatever he said after fades into the background, which has dimmed to a loud hum, as Ben Miller struts into the ring, tossing his shirt to the side, revealing a very familiar tattoo and his face finally comes into my view.
Benny. 
My stomach leaps into my throat, my heart hammering through my chest as I stare down at the man who I could never shake from my mind, even before I was having his child. Which he doesn’t know about. 
A bell dings and Benny takes a few steps towards his opponent, who immediately clocks him in his jaw, Benny’s head flying backwards. The man manages to get a couple more hits in, Benny almost absorbing all of the hits. But then the man hesitates and Benny takes that moment to attack, winding his way around the ring, jabbing at his opponent in swift, concise, planned motions. The man only stays up for a few more seconds before crumbling to the ground and giving in. The crowd goes wild as the ref holds Benny’s arm in the air, blood trickling down from his nose, a giant smile on his face. My stomach lurches and I quickly stand, yelling something about the bathroom to Sage as I grab my jacket and run for the doors, the room suddenly too small and loud. I shove open the arena’s double doors and stumble out into the nearly empty hallway. The doors close behind me and I pause a moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. But then the doors open behind me again and I attempt to stand up right.
“Rea?”
Benny’s voice echoes down the hallway and through me, my insides simultaneously tightening with nerves but also excited and swooning at his fucking calming tone. My back is to him but I don’t move. He takes a step closer.
“Rea? Is that you?”
Fuck. This isn’t how I would want him to find out. But how would he find out? It’s not like I could find him. I didn’t even know his last name. I don’t-
“Are you ok?”
His voice is closer now, only a few steps behind me. I swallow hard, willing myself to hold it together as I turn to face him, keeping my jacket covering my belly. His bright blue eyes immediately find mine, a smile quicking spreading across his beautiful face. He’s still shirtless and I have to focus to keep my eyes on his face.
“Rea! It is you! I thought I saw your face in the crowd! Did you see me fight?”
I manage a small smile. “Y-yeah. I did. Congrats.”
He shrugs. “Thanks. That guy was easy but when I saw you, I thought maybe he’d hit my head harder than I thought. What…I mean uh, how are you?”
I sigh, my small smile dropping. “I…I have to tell you something.”
His expression turns serious. “Ok. But if it’s about me not calling you, you sort of left me without a last name or number.” He chuckles but stops when I don’t react. 
I hold his gaze a moment longer before letting my jacket fall to the side, exposing my belly under my form fitting black dress. His eyes immediately fall to my belly, his head turning to the side as he takes it in. I can see the moment it clicks, only a second or 2 after I moved my jacket, his eyes widening as his brain works double time to do the math. He points to himself.
“Is that…am I…the dad?”
I nod, rubbing my hand along the side of my belly where the baby is currently moving. “Yes.” I wait for the yell or scoff of disbelief, storming off, telling me I won’t get anything. All of what I had anticipated. But when I look up at him I see tears shining in his bright blues.
“You’re not fuckin’ with me?” His eyebrows pinch together, enhancing the shine from his tears and I shake my head.
“No. You’re the only one I’ve been with since my ex.”
His eyes shift down to my belly again and his hands start to reach out, but then he stops, looking back up at me. “May I?”
I give him a small smile and nod. “Yeah.”
Benny drops to his knees in front of me, placing each of his large hands on either side of my belly, rubbing small circles into my skin. I take his hand and move it, placing it right over where I’d just felt movement. 
“He was just kicking over here.”
His eyes shoot up to mine. “A boy? I’m gonna have a son?”
Fuck how can his eyebrows do that? “Yeah. A son.”
And the tears start to fall, quietly streaking down his cheeks as he laughs, trying to dab at them with the hand I hadn’t just moved. “Hey, little man. It’s me. Your dad.” A hard kick lands right in Benny’s hand and he whoops, rubbing the spot with his thumb. “You got your old man’s feet!” He continues to talk to my belly in the middle of the hallway, not caring if anyone sees him. His face is animated and lit up, despite the dried blood caked under his nose and for a second, I can see an entire future laid out before us. A wedding, a house, dancing together, maybe more kids. The love. It’s only when I snap out of this fairytale vision that I realize I was smoothing back his hair. I yank my hands back and drop them to my sides.
“Shit I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
He glances up at me. “Nah it’s ok. Actually, it felt good.” He watches me for a moment before his expression hardens. “Ok I need to get off this floor.”
He waves away my offer of a helping hand, gesturing towards my belly as he groans, standing to his full height before stretching out his legs. “I’m gettin’ too old to be kneeling on hard ass floors.”
We’re quiet for several moments, each of us just watching the other. 
“Why did you leave without sayin’ anything?”
I take a deep breath. “Benny, I…I’m sorry. I thought about you after that night. A lot. My friend had told me to just make it a rebound, to get my ex out of my head. Which it did, but what I didn’t expect was..well..you. I liked, well…like you a lot. You make me laugh, have some amazing stories, you’re funny, and hot as hell. But you also make me feel seen and heard. Like I wasn’t just there for convenience, which is ironic considering how we met, I realize that. I thought about trying to find you but the hotel wouldn’t tell me anything and I didn’t have anything to go by. And then I found out I was pregnant and I feel so guilty for not t- telling y- you, but I di-didn’t know h-how. I’m so s-s-sorry!” I can’t fight the pregnancy hormones anymore and the tears come, streaming down my face as I try to turn away, looking down and wiping furiously at my face. But then he’s there, pulling me towards him as best he can, his hand cradling the back of my head. 
“Hey, it’s ok. I never did tell you my last name or ask for your number neither. I could’ve but I didn’t.” My crying slows and he pulls back just enough to look down at me, wiping away a tear. “And I’ve regretted it ever since. I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you either, Rea. But I really had no way of finding you. But now that we’ve found each other again, can I have your number? I’d really like to take you to dinner.”
I let out a shaky chuckle. “It’s ok, Benny. You don’t have to do that.”
He cocks his head. “Do…what?”
“Take me to dinner. Listen, you can be as involved as you want. I won’t hold you to anything. I just wanted you to know. But you don’t have to-”
“No. I’m not asking you out because you’re pregnant. I’m asking you out because I’ve wanted to for months and regretted it every day that I didn’t.”
“Benny, really. It’s ok.”
“No, I- will you wait right here a moment?”
I nod and he places his hand on my belly once more, his son giving him another thump before he practically runs back through the double doors. Once they close, I walk over to the wall and lean my back against it, my emotions running through me. Is he telling the truth? Were we both just fucking idiots? That’s an obvious yes. But still, I don’t want him to feel like he owes me. It would be nice to hang with him again, though. No, Rea. Don’t make him feel forced. The double doors fly open and Benny comes running up to me, his wallet in his hand. 
“I don’t need money, Ben-”
He shakes his head. “No. Well I mean if you need it, I’ll gladly give it but that’s not…here.” He slides out a small slip of paper from behind his driver’s license and unfolds it, handing it to me. 
It’s the thank you note I scribbled to him and left in the hotel.
Tears well in my eyes again. “You..you kept this?” 
His eyes sparkle as they look at me. “Hell yeah I did. I told you, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. But I had no way of findin’ you. I went to the bar every night hoping to see you walk in. But I never did.”
“I got too busy with work and then..” I gesture down to my belly and he laughs, placing a hand on my stomach again.
“Yeah I can’t blame you for not wanting to be in a bar. Especially your first trimester.”
My eyebrows raise. “What do you know about trimesters?”
“My sister was a hot fuckin’ mess during hers. Sick all the time, emotional, all of it. She felt bad about it too no matter how much we told her not to worry. My niece is 5 now and has the attitude to match.” He chuckles. “I can’t wait to meet this little guy..my little guy. Ours? Fuck this is hard to say.”
“Either way, I’m just glad you can say it.” I clutch the paper in my hand for a moment before handing it back to him. 
“So when’s that dinner?”
We’re married a year later. 
---------------------------------
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