Cotton-Tails & Comfort: Wolf!Valko x Rabbit!Reader
Synopsis: Valko shows you exactly why you chose the big dumb dog to be your mate.
Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, Hybrid AU, Fluff.
The sleek, black town car rolls to a stop in the driveway of the penthouse, its tinted windows reflecting the city lights. Valko steps out, loosening the tie around his neck with one hand while the other tugs at the stiff collar of his dress shirt. His burgundy wolf ears twitch under the dim glow of the outside light, picking up the faintest rustle of fabric inside.
He pushes the door open quietly. The furniture is basked in the low light from the nearby kitchen. Yet it’s too quiet. The scent of chamomile and honey, your scent, lingers in the air. But you smell…scared. His tail stiffens, muscles tensing as his golden eyes scan the empty living room. The plush nesting blankets you’ve been obsessively rearranging for weeks are rumpled but vacant. The half-finished cup of raspberry leaf tea sits cold on the coffee table.
His claws unsheathe just slightly, retracting again as he forces himself to exhale. "Bunny?" he calls out. There’s no answer.
The bedroom is silent when he walks in. The bed is completely made from where it was when he left his morning. You’d handed him his coffee, kissed his nose and shooed him off to work. The hairs on the back of his neck rise, but then he hears a noise. His eyes dart towards the sound.
The walk-in closet.
He pads forward, nostrils flaring. Your heartbeat is a rapid flutter, and beneath it, the steady drum of the pups (even though you insist he call them kits) kicking impatiently against your ribs.
He nudges the door open with his knee. There you are, curled into a defensive ball between his winter coats, fingers knotted in the fabric. Your bunny ears press flat against your skull, eyes wide. His chest tightens. "There you are," he murmurs, crouching, tail sweeping the floor to balance himself. "Did the city noises scare you again?"
Your round, glistening eyes flicker like a startled deer’s, first to the open window where the city hums too loudly, then to the shadows stretching too long across the walls, before finally landing on him. The weight of the pups presses low and heavy in your belly, your body curled protectively around them, fingers digging into the folds of your oversized sweater as if you could shield them from the world. They move restlessly under your touch, a ripple against your skin that makes your breath hitch.
Valko’s nostrils flair. The way you’re folded in on yourself makes the swell of your pregnancy even more pronounced, your frame nearly swallowed by the life you’re carrying. You’ve always been fairly skittish. You dart from loud noises. Or go wide eyed if he sets down a plate too loud. In your pregnancy, it’s gotten even worse.
Oh, the mighty Chairman of EonCore Tech, the brilliant mind behind revolutionary biotechnology, reduced to...this.
His voice melts into syrupy and warmth, syllables rounded like he's talking to something precious and breakable. "There's my sweet bun," he coos, ears perking forward as his tail starts an embarrassingly enthusiastic sweep across the floor. "Did the city get too loud? Too scratchy for bunny ears?" He inches closer, still giving you space, but his posture has completely collapsed from its usual predatory grace. Now he's all awkward, wagging limbs and dopey smiles behind those sharp teeth. His glasses have slid down the slope of his nose, yellow eyes almost glowing in the dark.
One big hand rubs at the back of his neck, it’s a nervous tic you’ve seen in board meetings. "Wanna make a blanket pile right here? Steal all my fancy shirts for the nest? I'll—" He leans forward. Your nose twitches in curiosity and you even lean towards him. His voice drops to a whisper. "I'll even let you nibble the expensive ones." His golden eyes crinkle at the corners. The mighty wolf, brought low by the sight of his pregnant mate looking even slightly less tense.
His ears suddenly flick upright as one of the pups kicks hard enough to make you jolt. His entire face lights up. "Was that—? Oh! Oh, they're playing footsie in there, aren't they? Little troublemakers," he giggles, the sound absurdly boyish coming from a man with a voice that usually makes lab interns faint.
He scoots just close enough to press his palms gently against your belly, his nose scrunching with delight. "You're growing champion kickers, sweetheart. Future strikers. Or—or tiny boxers! Bet they get that from me."
You should laugh at the way he’s hunched beside you now. All 6’2 of his folded like a lawn chair just to make himself look smaller for you.
Your bunny ears twitch slightly as you peek up at him through your lashes, comforted by his silly grin and wagging tail. Your voice comes out small, muffled into your knees at first.
“The... the garbage trucks were too loud today," you admit, fingers nervously plucking at the fabric of your sweater. “And the construction down the street. It kept rattling the windows."
Valko hums along, making mental notes. He nods seriously, like this is critical intel, and you can practically see him mentally plotting revenge against the noisy city outside.
Then, hesitantly, you uncurl just a little, one hand smoothing over the curve where a pup presses stubbornly against your ribs. "I, um... I folded all the baby clothes. Twice." You chew on your swollen lower lip. “And then unfolded them to refold them neater. And—" Your nose scrunches, ears drooping slightly. "I... might have chewed on the corner of that fluffy blanket you bought. Just a little."
His entire face lights up with pure delight. He gasps, actually gasps, like you've just revealed the most impressive feat in the world.
“You nest-engineered AND did quality testing on the blankets?! “ He gasps, pressing a proud kiss to your forehead. “Bunny, you're working harder than my entire R&D department. You are an absolute genius." His tail thumps against the floor again, his hands hovering like he’s physically restraining himself from smothering you in affection too fast. “Next time, I’m bringing you blueprints to nibble too. Get your expert opinion."
And just like that, the world feels a little quieter, a little safer, because your big, ridiculous wolf makes it so.
Caleb gets very jealous. He's always been this way, even when you two were kids. It was to the point that he even got jealous of the school nurse when you came home from being patched up by her after a fall from the swing. Caleb undid your bandages and redid them himself, claiming "he knows the best way to do it."
Now that you're older though, Caleb has gotten even worse somehow.
tags/cw: gege caleb
Someone sent an ask for Jealous Gege Caleb and now I can't stop thinking about it...
Jealous!Caleb who hates it when you go out to see your friends for hours a day, hanging our at the mall, wearing those skimpy outfits. You should be at home with him instead, sitting on his lap while he ignored his stiffening cock rubbing against your thighs in favor of feeling your warmth.
Jealous!Caleb who would follow you around the mall all day. He had to make sure you were safe. That no one looked at you for too long (more than one second). That no one dared to touch you. Only he could.
Jealous!Caleb who would duck out of sight every time you looked behind you to see if those nearly imperceptible footsteps you heard tailing you were real.
Jealous!Caleb who watches you squeal about everything that's pink and frilly as if he hadn't already bought you enough of that stuff. He would secretly buy everything you showed interest in behind your back when you left each outlet store.
Jealous!Caleb who would surprise you with all those gifts when you got home, ignoring the obvious confusion and slight concern on your face when you recognize some of the items. "I knew you'd like 'em, pips. No need to go out anymore. I'll get everything you ever want and bring it right back here for you, yeah?"
Jealous!Caleb who would take your phone and throw it across the room as soon as he heard some other boy's voice coming through the other end. "Who was that, pipsqueak? Didn't I tell you to stop talking to those boy's you meet?"
Jealous!Caleb who would pound into you from behind to teach you a lesson while the boy on your phone listened, asking over and over if you were okay as he heard your desperate moans. Why would you ever need another boy? He was right here. Big, strong, loving. Everything you needed.
Jealous!Caleb who would make sure to be extra loud, talking dirty and making you respond. "You like it, meimei? Does it feel good? 'Sooo good' hm? Gege is the only one who will ever make you feel this way. No. One. Else." That boy needed to hear how unavailable you were. How owned you were.
Jealous!Caleb who would wait till you were asleep and then block every boy in your contacts and even some of your friends who didn't seem good enough for you (all of them).
Jealous!Caleb who would install extra parental controls on your phone, and a small tracker to keep an eye on you. Always.
Jealous!Caleb who would rejoin your sleeping form in bed, kissing the neck he had bruised just minutes earlier and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. "My sweet meimei. Gege will always be here. You don't need anyone else. You'll never need anyone but Gege. I'll always take care of my baby sis. Love you more than anyone else ever could." His voice was almost scarily reverent, seeping into your brain even while you were asleep.
Jealous!Caleb that would do anything for you, spoil you, and make you a complete brat. As long as you were his brat. <3
an: lowkey accidentally made this into like half stalkerleb whoopsieeee -- if u see a typo no u don't
Imagine for the past few weeks you genuienly thought you were losing your mind. At first it was small things, a familiar black SUV parked near your apartment building too often. Same man appearing near your workplace at different hours of the day. Someone standing near the convenience store every time you went out late at night.
Imagine you ignore it initially, because honestly? Your life had already been miserable enough lately. Sleeping became difficult after the breakup, or whatever that even was. Because calling Caleb your ex fiance felt wrong, painfully wrong. Even after giving the ring back, even after blocking him, even after crying yourself sick for weeks. Nothing about losing Caleb felt real. It just felt incomplete. Like your relationship shattered halfway through a sentence and somehow that made moving on impossible.
Imagine the way you still remembered the look on his face that night too clearly, that was the problem. If Caleb looked guilty, maybe you could have hated him properly. If he looked defensive, angry, dismissive, maybe this would have been easier. But he looked terrified, desperate. Like he was watching something precious collapse in front of him while being unable to stop it. That look haunted you constantly.
which Imagine was why you hated yourself for still worrying about him. For missing him. For unconsciously reaching for your phone every night hoping maybe he would texted from another number somehow. You were angry at him. You were furious. But underneath the anger sat something worse, fear. Because deep down you still believed Caleb loved you. And that made everything terrifyingly confusing.
Imagine then came the night outside the convenience store. A man initially looked harmless, smiling, flirting, asking for your number casually and you politely declined. He insisted and you decline again. But then his hand grabbed your wrist too tightly, your stomach dropped immediately. "Hey." You snapped, trying to pull away. "Let go." Instead, his grip tightened harder. "Don't be such a bitch about it." For a second, panic flashed sharply through you and before things escalated further, someone moved.
Imagine the way the stranger barely had time to react before another man twisted his arm away from you hard enough to force him backwards. "Walk away." Cold voice, military tone, controlled and dangerous, the creep cursed under his breath before quickly leaving. Meanwhile, the man who intervened turned toward you. "You alright, Ma'am?" Your chest tightened. Because you knew him, one of Caleb's men. Although you don't knew him personally, you had seen him multiple times beside Caleb during military gatherings. And he clearly realized you recognized him too because his expression immediately became awkward.
Imagine the way you looked around quickly. Shit. Another familiar figure stood near the parked SUV across the street, watching. Your blood ran cold. No. No fucking way. "...Are you following me?" The silence was enough answer. Anger exploded immediately afterward. Weeks of confusion and heartbreak suddenly mixed violently together. "Are you serious right now?" "We're assigned to your protection." "My protection from what?!" Then again, the silence. Your laugh came out sharp and disbelieving. "Unbelievable." You stormed off furious. But afterward? You couldn't stop noticing them. And once awareness settled in, the protection become impossible to ignore.
Imagine different personnel rotating constantly, cars nearby, people subtly shadowing your routes. Never too close, never enough to make public scenes but always there. Watching, protecting. And the worst fucking part? They were unquestionably Caleb's men. Which meant even after everything, even after the ring, even after you walked away. He was still protecting you. And that realization hurt more than it should have. Because what kind of man continued watching over the woman who left him? What kind of man silently protect someone who slapped him across the face and blocked his number afterward? Your Caleb. That was the problem, it was always him.
Imagine three weeks passed like that. Three miserable, exhausting weeks. Until eventually your frustration outweighed your pride, because clearly something was happening. Something enough to justify military protection around you twenty four seven. And Caleb? Caleb remained completely silent. No new number, no new messages, no calls, nothing. Which felt wrong, terrifying wrong. Caleb was not the type to give up on you quietly.
so Imagine one night after another bodyguard subtly followed you home from work, you finally snapped. You unblocked his number immediately then stared at your messages, nothing. Your chest tightened, then you type first.
You: where are you? sent
You: Caleb sent
Imagine there was no response, not even delivered. Hour passed and your anxiety worsenes horribly. By midnight, you couldn't take it anymore and you called him. The line rang twice before connecting and immediately, a woman answered. And your entire body went cold. Again. Again? For one horribe second, you couldn't breathe properly. The same sick feeling from that apartment rushed back instantly. The same confusion, the same humiliation and you nearly hang up. But something stopped you this time, maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was instinct, maybe because despite everything, you still trusted Caleb somewhere deep inside yourself.
"Where's Caleb?" The woman in the other end paused briefly then her tone softened immediately. "Oh." Something about that single word made your stomach twist violently. "You're his fiance." Your throat tightened. "... Ex fiance." "No." The woman replied quietly, "Definitely not ex." Your heart stumbled painfully. "What?" But she continued before you could process that. "Colonel Caleb is currently hospitalized." Everything inside you stopped. "What?" "Colonel's unconscious right now." Your chair nearly crashed backward as you stood abruptly. "What happened?!" Your voice cracked instantly. "Is he okay?!" "He's alive." She reassured quickly, "But-" You were already grabbing your keys. "What hospital?"
Imagine the military hospital intimidating, cold white walls, heavy security and personnel everywhere. You barely remembered entering. Everything blurred together beneath your panic. "I'm sorry Ma'am, family member only." "I'm his fiance." The personnel hesitated. "Legally immediate family only." Your chest twisted horribly. Because technically? You weren't even wearing the ring anymore. And you almost broke down right there from frustration. "I need to see him." "I apologize but-" Thankfully, one of Caleb’s friends spotted you before security fully turned you away. A Major you met several times before, usually calm and easygoing but tonight he looked exhausted like nobody around Caleb had slept properly in days. "She's with me." He told firmly then softer toward you. "Come on."
Imagine the walk toward Caleb's room felt endless. "What happened to him?" The Major exhaled heavily. "There was an ambush during transfer." Your stomach dropped instantly. "He protected the witness." Witness? Questions flooded your head immediately. But none mattered more than one thing. "Is he okay?" The Major looked at you carefully for a long second before answering. "He almost wasn't." Your vision blurred immediately. Then the room door finally opened and you stopped breathing. Caleb looked terrible. Paler than you had ever seen him, bruises covered parts of his face and neck. An oxygen mask covered half his face while machines beeped steadily around him but what shattered you completely was his arm.
Imagine his right arm looked badly damaged beneath thick stabilization wraps and medical equipment. The sight physically hurt. "Oh my God…" This was Caleb. Strong, steady, untouchable Caleb. The man who always looked capable of carrying the world, now lying unconscious beneath hospital lights looking painfully fragile. Suddenly all your anger felt unbearably small compared to the fear crushing your chest right now. You approached slowly, terrified. Like touching him might somehow hurt him more. Yet you wanted to hold him, wanted to check if he was really alive. But the amount of injuries scared you too much. "What happened to you." You whispered shakily.
then Imagine Caleb moved, very slightly. His brows furrowed weakly before his eyes slowly opened. Disoriented at first, unfocused. Then they landed on you and everything on his face broke apart instantly. Relief, pure overwhelming relief and his eyes immediately filled with tears. Your chest caved inward painfully as Caleb tried sitting up too fast before immediately wincing sharply in pain. "Hey- hey don't move." His breathing became uneven behind the oxygen mask. And then, he started crying. Not loudly, not dramatically. Just silent tears slipping helplessly down his face while staring at you like he genuinely thought he'd never see you again.
"I'm sorry." He rasped weakly beneath the mask and your own tears fell immediately. "Caleb-" "I'm sorry." His voice sounded rough, exhausted, broken. And suddenly you realized something horrifying. Caleb looked scared, not of pain, not of dying. He was scared of losing you. "Please." He whispered shakily. "Please don't leave." That nearly destroyed you. Because this was Caleb, your composed, terrifyingly competent Colonel. The man who handled crisis after crisis without breaking. Now looking at you with absolute desperation in his swollen exhausted eyes.
Imagine the way you carefully reached for his left hand and the second your fingers touched his, Caleb grabbed onto you weakly but immediately. Like instinct, like survival. His grip trembled. "I hate you." You cried shakily. Caleb let out one broken breath that almost sounded like a laugh before another tear escaped instead. "I know." "You hurt me." "I know." "You made me think..." His eyes squeezed shut briefly and pain crossed his face instantly. Real pain, not physical but something worse. "I couldn't tell you." He whispered weakly. "I couldn't risk you."
Imagine the way your brows furrowed through tears. "What are you talking about?" Caleb looked at you desperately now, like he was trying to stay conscious through sheer force. "There were people watching." He whispered. "At the apartment." Your heart stopped. "There was a laser sight on you." The room went silent and your blood ran cold instantly. Caleb's breathing worsened slightly from talking too much but he kept going anyway. "I saw it on the wall behind you." He said shakily. "I know that if I talked… If I told you anything…" He swallowed painfully. "They would've killed you."
Imagine the way everything suddenly clicked together all at once. The bodyguards, the secrecy, the fear in his eyes that night, the panic, the silence. Oh God. You started crying harder instantly. And Caleb looked completely devastated watching you realize the truth. "I thought sending you away was safer." He admitted weakly. "Then I realise I..." His voice cracked harshly. The monitors beside him started reacting faster. "Caleb, stop talking." "No." He gripped your hand tighter desperately. "No because I thought I lost you." "Caleb-" "I almost died before fixing it." Your chest physically ached hearing that.
Imagine the way his breathing became uneven now, exhausted. But he kept staring at you like if he blinked too long, you would disappear again. "I'm sorry." He whispered again and again. "I'm so fucking sorry." Tears streamed helplessly down your face. You wanted to comfort him, to scream at him, to hold him forever. And Caleb looked so tired. So emotionally wrecked like these past weeks destroyed him too. "Don't leave me." He whispered suddenly and the words sounded small, terrified. Nothing like the composed Colonel everyone respected. Just Caleb, your Caleb. Broken apart in front of you. "Please." His grip tightened weakly around your hand.
"I can fix this." He whispered desperately, voice becoming less steady now. "I'll explain everything properly, I swear, just- just don't leave me again." "Caleb-" "I can't lose you. I'll die." The monitor beeped faster suddenly and a nurse immediately entered. "Colonel, you need to calm down." But Caleb ignored her completely. His eyes stayed locked desperately on yours. Almost delirious now from exhaustion and medication. "Please stay." He begged weakly. "Please don't leave me alone again." Your chest shattered completely. "I'm here." You whispered quickly through the tears but Caleb looked unconvinced, panicked. Like he genuinely thought if he closed his eyes, you would disappear. "Please." He whispered brokenly.
then Imagine, alarms started ringing louder and everything happened too fast afterward. More nurses rushed inside, doctors followed immediately. "Ma'am, you need to step outside." You froze instantly. "What happened?!" "His condition is destabilizing." Caleb's grip on your hand only tightened as medical staff surrounded him. And even then he still looked only at you, terrified, desperate. "Don't go." He whispered weakly and your heart broke completely. But then the nurses pulled you away while the doors shut between you both.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2026°
: bruh :/ imma play love island on the sidelines. Let's go ethan :"( Valkoooo T~T anyways here u go grovelling caleb 🥹
mb, i forgot the Tags kasi decisions ako sa life: @moltensceptergambit @scoupshushushu @ceceoboro @younghideoutberserker @sleepykittyenergy @spiceandsass @younbeanz @multi-fandom-fanfic @yoichislovie
Big brothers are supposed to be cool, aren’t they? Not like Caleb, who - well you suppose he’s good at basketball - prefers to stay in his room and tap away on his PC all day. The only few times you see him emerge from the darkness is when he comes downstairs to pick up the packages he orders, before shooting back up the stairs. On the rare instances he’d even have a sit down dinner with you and gran. Yet the moment the dishes are clean, he’s disappeared off into his perpetually darkened room again.
Weirdo.
You’re sure that a loser like him wouldn’t ever be able to make friends. So how shocked you were when you discovered that Caleb, indeed, isn’t a social outcast. You were less shocked when you discovered that they were as equally as loserish as your big brother.
There’s that artsy one, who’s always drawing lewd manga in that sketchbook of his. You wished you never peeked into it (if you hadn’t, you’d never know that some of the drawings included you). Then there’s the weird mafia one, who’s always pretending to be this great cartel lord or something, always smirking and winking at you. There’s the blond one who might be a cosplayer, always coming over carrying a real sword. He always makes sure to fall asleep next to you or over you on purpose so you wouldn’t be able to move until he wakes up. Creep. And out of them all, the only normal one, Zayne— that is, until you found him shamelessly jacking off to your medical checkup records that you left outside in the living room.
Right, and there was that new one, wasn’t there? Some wolf furry friend of Caleb’s, who’s always wearing fake wolf ears and a tail and jumping around on all fours. He bit your neck to ‘mark’ you that one time.
Least to say, your brother’s friends were not normal.
You do make fun of poor Caleb sometimes. Why can’t he be normal and make some friends who weren’t obsessed with their friend’s little sister? Why does he have to choose this group of losers? Why can’t he be like you, with Tara and everything?
“What, do you all like, masturbate in a circle or something hahahaha—“
Caleb scowls, adjusts his thick black glasses, scratches his neck, and slams the door to his room.
But Caleb still wants to keep his dignity as an older brother. He can’t lose too much respect from his lil sis after all, even though he is kind of a loser.
So he’ll have to remind you of his place every once in an often. Plus, remind his dear friends that you’re his sister.
You find yourself, on the rare occurrence, laid flat out on Caleb’s bed, one of his hands on the curve of your throat whilst the other grips your hips as he slams into you. He’s muttering something, but you can’t make out what above all the wet squelches and your moans and him suddenly flipping you onto your back, pressing down onto the bulge in your pelvis from above, before pulling out and slamming right back in.
On your front, you can see his laptop clearer now. Your tits hurt from all the groping he did before, and now they have to rub painfully against his cumstained mattress. The hentai episode plays as you get rammed from behind. The girl is squealing, eyes squeezed shut, tongue out, crying and whining, her arms raised by her shoulders as she bounces on the faceless male lead’s cock.
She looks like you, you notice. You wouldn’t be surprised if Caleb saved this episode along with the other hundreds of other porn videos and eroge games he’s got on file.
Caleb adjusts the angle he’s hitting in, just enough to make you cry out in time with the poor anime girl on screen. Your hands claw onto his stinky bed sheets, as he rubs against that spot again, and again, and again…before his fat head pushes against your cervix.
As if he’s trying to follow along the video, at that moment the episode features an X-ray moment where you could see the guy inside the over exaggerated pink insides of the anime girl. You wonder if Caleb really believes in that kind of anatomy he probably does.
He’s probably doing it on purpose as well. Timing your reactions to the girl in the hentai. He’s probably jerked off to the video enough times to know every timestamp front to back.
Once he’s done, he stays stuffed inside you for the sole purpose of ‘so you’ll only be able to take me, once your insides mould around my girth.’ You roll your eyes and try to explain to him that that’s not how it works, but Caleb just pats your head and calls you a dumb little meimei.
Silly you. Thinking you know better than your big brother. Thinking you can make fun of him before getting fucked dumb.
You whimper and rub your eyes pitifully, apologizing to him, saying what he wants to hear: that’s he’s right, he’s always right, and you admire him soso much—!
That is, until Caleb pulls out the Japanese sailor schoolgirl uniform and asks you to put it on. Sigh**
late nights used to be valko's best friend. it's his most productive time, after all. it's always been that way, that his best ideas and innovation came in the early hours of the morning.
but now? when he has you, no doubt curled up all cosy in bed, embellishing his sheets with that deliciously intoxicating scent of yours? it has him questioning what on earth he's doing in his home office at such a time.
he lets out a low huff, dangerously close to a characteristically wolfish growl as he half puts his things away with far more aggression than necessary. then, he's locking the door to the room behind him, fur hair bristling as he heads to the bathroom to wash up for bed.
only a little roughness lingers by the time he's gently opening the bedroom door - with his enhanced vision, he can comfortably make out where your sleeping form is under the duvet. he pads over, slipping under the covers, ready to pull you close, awaiting the moment where you wrap your arms around him in your sleep.
(it's his favourite thing, how you do it without thinking, your subconscious tugging you towards him just like how his pulls him to you.)
only, your arms are... occupied, it would seem.
a plushie. your round yellow birb plushie, nestled into your arms like it belongs there.
valko frowns, humming so low in the back of his throat that it sounds like a threat.
he reaches towards you, fingers sliding between your arm and the soft fabric, ready to prise it away.
only for you - traitor - to hum happily in your sleep and nuzzle the damned plushie closer into your chest.
he flexes and extends his fingers like he's readying his claws.
no. you'll be upset if he destroys it, and he certainly doesn't want that.
fine.
he scoops your body into his embrace, plushie and all (begrudgingly), and shoves his face into your neck, sniffing and kissing and nipping at the delicate skin. you squirm in your sleep, until you eventually wake up to the feeling of being thoroughly loved upon (and scented) by your wolfie.
"mmm... val, what're y'doin'?..." you murmur, shifting the plushie so it isn't obstructing you from hugging valko close instead, a clear upgrade. he visibly perks up; even in the darkness, it's like you can feel something in him shift to happiness from the sheer exhaustion of the preceding moments.
"my little wolf was neglecting me." his words come out teasing, muffled into your skin as he presses his nose into your neck. "not very nice of you, babe. i've been working so hard all evening, only to be replaced by a plushie."
"mm, maybe you should've come to bed sooner, then." you try to sound feisty, but it just exposes the truth - how badly you want him by your side, and how you hate sleeping with his side of the bed empty. then, you're shifting so you're sprawled top of him, and you plant a kiss on his cheek before tucking your head under his chin.
"looks like i need to do a little better next time 'round, then." he muses, his usual cockiness subdued a little by an affection that warms you to the bone. one hand comes to splay over your lower back in a loosely protective hold, while the other drapes over your waist, fingers kneading your soft skin.
"mhm." you agree. "shouldn't be workin' so late, val, should be here with me." your soft murmur is half a confession, but truthfully, it's nothing he didn't know; nothing he wasn't already acutely aware of, in the very fibres in his being, in the soul-tether that binds you to him.
"i know. i'm sorry." he says, voice low and achingly sincere. "tomorrow, baby. tomorrow, i'll be here. by your side. i promise."
a/n: first valko post!! deepest apologies for my long absence - exam season had me going insane but im free now with lots in the drafts! also spot the teeny tiny raf/valko rivalry ref hehe anyways hope you enjoyed mwah ily
“The Superior Courtship Strategy: four billion years of evolutionary continuity & a working knowledge of prebiotic chemistry”
[Valko x MC - crack fluff one shot from “Until You Come Home” masterlist]
She loved every sight of his boyfriend.
But there was one in particular she was very fond of.
When her shift miraculously ended on time… and it was still kind of early in the afternoon, she would ride her bike towards the first bakery along the way, buy some double-chocolate brownies and head towards the Laboratory. Because she knew that she would very likely find Valko there, still busy with… whatever high-sci tech he worked on, and she couldn’t wait to meet him.
She couldn’t resist lingering at the doorstep, quietly holding the bakery bag in hand and admiring his boyfriend in his -also- natural habitat.
He was the same man who enjoyed teasing her to no end, wrestling on the carpet until their bellies hurt too much from laughing.
The same one who liked to distract her in the kitchen just for a hug or ‘only another kiss’, breathing in her scent like his life depended on it.
Her boyfriend who got a bit sheepish whenever his werewolf instincts kicked in but eagerly seeked her fingers to scratch the sensitive spot behind his fluffy ears.
But in the Laboratory, there were glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His burgundy hair was massy because he'd been absentmindedly running a hand throughout the day. And a serious expression would be on his face as Valko was so absorbed in whatever was going on the wide, digital screens in front of him.
She had no idea what all those formulas and projections meant, but she loved watching the quiet concentration with which he studied them.
“Val…”
He hummed lowly without turning towards her yet. He was aware of her presence for a while, having smelled her scent even before she could reach the doorstep, and he thought that she had waited for him to finish before greeting him properly.
Oh… but Valko was completely wrong with his assumptions.
“...you’re hot.”
Her praise made him stop, one of his hands pausing mid-air in front of the blue screen, and this time he looked beyond his shoulder to meet her gaze.
“I’m… working?” He blinked at her, confused but flustered by the way the tip of his ears had turned pink.
“I know.”
“That’s completely normal…”
“I know,” she chuckled softly and finally stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
Valko huffed in amusement, letting her win the banter for this time, and quickly saved the data he had been working on the whole day to give her his full attention.
“I brought a sweet treat,” she said, putting the bakery bag on his desk for him to see.
A grateful smile tugged at his lips and Valko turned towards her with the intention to thank her while teasing her with something like ‘you’re the sweet treat I need’ but he couldn’t utter a single word.
Her soft, delicate hands cradled his jawline and pulled him in with gentle firmness as she leaned in to press a kiss on his lips.
His heart stuttered inside his chest but he melted into the tender affection right away, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her closer.
“...missed you,” she murmured against his lips, the tip of their noses nuzzling lightly as she hugged him back.
“I missed you too,” Valko closed the narrow distance between them for a second time, effectively stealing another sweet kiss from her.
Reluctantly, she indulged him for a little longer and then she pulled back, not forgetting where they were. It was true that nobody would just barge in without his permission but she had seen some of his collaborators in the common area, and she didn’t want to risk any embarrassing accidents.
“So…? What were you doing?” She asked halfheartedly, because his arms hadn’t let her go yet.
“Oh!”
Her subtle method worked to get Valko back on track.
Behind the glasses, his golden eyes shone with excitement at her question and he gave her hips an affectionate squeeze before walking towards the screens. With a couple of touches, a bright blue hue lightened the room once again as 3D molecular structures, formulas and side-notes appeared in front of them.
She blinked as she tried to read and make sense of that without much success.
Noticing her confused but curious expression, his smile only widened.
“Do you remember when I mentioned the primordial soup?”
“...yes?”
“Well-”
How could she ever forget such a revolutionary hypothesis that had made her re-evaluate her years in high school when she had studied science and physics?
Honestly, she had been more inclined towards humanities and literature-kind of studies but sometimes she had also been fascinated by the scientific field.
But having her boyfriend talk about these kinds of topics felt completely different than having an old, hostile professor who expected little-Einsteins frequenting their course.
Valko was passionate, enthusiastically drawing the molecular structures all over again just to make sure that she could follow his logic and understand what he was talking about. He explained chemical gradients talking with hands, the scientific terms slipping from his lips naturally fast only for him to digress a moment in less specific ones…
He genuinely cared to share all of that with her, hoping that she could see the world with these lenses too.
And even if she couldn’t fully comprehend the equations and formulas, she found him unfairly handsome. Just like the first time she had witnessed this nerdy side of him, way before they became a couple, in that dusty and quiet corner of the city library.
Back then he had worn a sharper pair of glasses and a darker outfit, something neat that had caught her attention because nobody dressed like that for such a place. In her hands there were a couple philosophical titles, thick volumes that had given him the perfect excuse to break the ice.
“Those look quite heavy… Can I give you a hand?”
She had accepted because she had had the intention of reaching towards a higher shelf and picking another book. But from then Valko had chosen to stick by her side and remained until nowadays.
Remembering his attempt at sounding smooth still made her chuckle -his intellectual enthusiasm had somehow got her hooked, and they had ended up sitting on the linoleum floor, side by side, discussing existential topics.
She couldn’t have ever imagined that Valko would have caught that chance to flirt with her with the most dorky pick-up line she had ever heard.
“Biologically speaking, we came from the same primordial soup. And we evolved under the same conditions. We're not that different…”
She had bitten down her own smile as Valko had lost himself in explaining to her such hypothesis about how life might’ve begun on Earth, only to end with:
“Listen, I’m not saying the primordial soup personally shipped us... I’m just saying four billion years of prebiotic chemistry invested an unreasonable amount of effort into arranging these atoms, and it would be rude not to see where it’s going.”
He had said that with a serious expression but she had caught the red hue burning the tips of his ears and she had broken into a genuine laughter.
It had been wildly romantic from her point of view, because she had accepted.
And now she stood there, in his Laboratory, listening to his scientific ramblings with a fond smile on her lips.
"...Did that make sense?" Valko turned towards her, finally catching his breath after having talked so fast for the whole time.
“Not really,” she chuckled quietly, shaking her head.
“Oh…”
His excitement dimmed at that but before Valko could feel self-conscious and fear that he had simply talked her ear off, she stepped closer to him one more time.
“But I loved listening to you,” she admitted honestly and tightened her arms around his shoulders when he melted against her, nuzzling his face in a happy but flustered way against the crook of her neck.
Me, choosing the longest title I've ever written: Guys, is this... alright?
Valko, crossing his arms and nodding with a proud smile on his face: Yes. This accurately summarises the topic.
MC, rolling her eyes in affectionate exhaustion: ...you flirt like you're writing a research paper.
[This one shot is also published on AO3]→“Until You come Home” series❣️
💚 Other works:
✧ “Popcorn and Jump Scares are a Must for a Movie Night”;
✧ “The Return of the Wolf in the Woods Fails”;
✧ “Just Hug me Tight”;
✧ “Gentle Nibbles and Ear Scratches”;
✧ “Smelling Like Home”;
✧ “Everyday is Chocolate Day for Us!!”;
✧ ...
💌 If you have any one shot request, scenario or head canon for Valko, my inbox is open and you can leave a comment under the dedicated post!!
CW: rough sex, unprotected sex, light edging, use of toys (dildo), use of pet name slut, jealousy and possession
omg hi. its been a while. happy late birthday caleb and i hope everyone enjoy this. i forgot how to write.
It's quiet in your bedroom, a candle flickering against the wall, a seductive addition to the slick, wet noise of the silicone moving in and out of you.
The toy you had bought last week was an impulsive purchase, something to ease the ache your poor pussy felt after weeks of Caleb being gone. A secret thrill runs through you every time you use it—it's a poor substitute, but a substitute nonetheless.
You whimper and squirm against the sheets, teasing your entrance before shoving it back inside, pumping your wrist and hoping it eases the ache that Caleb's cock left you craving.
Then the door creaks open, and you freeze, the toy still buried deep inside you. Mortification covers your body faster then the sheets could.
Caleb stands in the doorway, still in uniform. He doesn't look angry, but there's a possessive glint in his eyes that tell you exactly how he feels about seeing something else inside you.
"What's this?"
"Caleb!" you choke, face flushing red. "Oh my god… I thought you—you were still on the trip!"
He doesn't move at first. He just lets the strap of his travel bag slide from his shoulder and hit the ground with a heavy thud. With his gaze fixed on you, he finally takes a step closer to the bed.
"I finished early. Thought I'd surprise you." He unzips his jacket slowly. "Seems I'm the one who's surprised."
You remain frozen, eyes tracking every movement he makes until he tosses the jacket onto a chair, and steps toward the edge of the bed. His voice drops to a husky whisper.
"Did you miss me that much, baby? Had to find a replacement?"
"I'm so sorry," you stammer. "I was just… craving something inside me, you know? It's been so long and…"
You cut off your rambling as he climbs onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he kneels before you, one hand braced near your hip. The other hand reaches for the sheet you're clutching.
"Sorry?" Caleb's fingers curl into the fabric, holding it taut. "Don't be sorry for wanting that pretty pussy to be filled.” He smirks, but it’s tight. “But you should be sorry for using a piece of plastic for that. You have me."
You whimper, pressing your legs together as though somehow you could hide the toy.
"But… you weren't here. I had to do something."
Caleb tsks softly.
"That's not an excuse. You should've waited for me."
Before you can react, he yanks the sheet away, exposing you completely. Cool air rushes across your skin, and despite your best efforts, the toy is only hidden by the way it's nestled inside you. Caleb's eyes lock onto it, and a muscle ticks in his jaw.
Instinctively, you reach down, only for Caleb to swat your hand away. His own fingers wrap around the base of the dildo as he slowly pulls it from you. The slick, pink silicone glistens in the dim light.
A shaky breath leaves you as he holds it up—to your further embarrassment—examining it with a dark, unreadable expression.
"You went out and bought this?" His voice is a low, disapproving rumble. "Got yourself all worked up for a fake dick?"
You don't reply, too ashamed to meet his gaze as it flicks down to the mess between your thighs.
"It got you nice and wet, didn't it?"
He taps the toy on your clit, making you jolt.
"I'm talking to you."
"I was thinking of you!" you protest, squirming as he rubs the tip through your swollen folds. "I swear, Caleb. I want you—want you so much more."
Caleb doesn't look convinced, especially not when he pushes the toy back inside you and watches your pussy flutter around the length.
"Oh yeah?" he growls, drawing it out before pushing it back in again. "Then why are you making those sweet noises for it, huh?"
You writhe against the sheets, pleasure curling through your body. It's not just the toy—it's Caleb. The way he's looking at you. The way he's talking to you. The way each thrust forces you to feel every inch of a dick that isn't his.
A moan slips from your lips. You can’t help it. You’ve missed him… any attention from him.
Caleb presses a firm hand against your thigh, ensuring your legs stay draped wide and trembling as he increases the pace.
"Fuck," he groans. "Look at you."
He shoves the dildo deep.
"Is it better than me? Is that why you bought it?"
You shake your head immediately, trying to catch your breath.
"Oh fuck… it's not b-better… it's not—"
"Then why are you soaking wet for it?" His stare doesn't leave your face. "Why are you moaning like a slut for it?"
The question leaves you with no answer beyond another helpless sound. Your lips part, but nothing coherent comes out.
Caleb's jaw tightens as he drives the toy in once more, deep and hard before suddenly ripping it out of you. The sudden emptiness is cruel and leaves you cold, your pussy throbbing around nothing.
Caleb scoffs at your needy whine and tosses the toy across the room where it lands with a dull thud. Your pulse pounds in your ears as he crowds into your space, leaving no room for anything except him.
His hands are quick as they work his belt open, shoving down his pants and boxers until his cock is free.
You barely have a moment to admire the length you've missed so much before he’s tugging you towards him, and folding you in half. Your legs dangle from his shoulder as he positions himself between your thighs.
The tip of his cock brushes your entrance, a gentle warning that contradicts the harsh way he slams inside you. Your eyes squeeze shut from the stretch, your mouth parting in a gasp of pleasure.
His mouth crashes onto yours, swallowing the rest of your moan in a messy kiss as he begins to give you rough thrusts. His thick tip bullies your cervix, making up for everyday he's been gone.
He's so much bigger than the toy.
Warmer and real. It's making you fall apart.
"Oh s-shit…. oh Caleb… Caleb—!"
Your words dissolve into broken sounds, giving you no chance to recover between each pump of his hips. The room is getting stuffy, his balls smacking your ass with enough force to erase the memory of that silicone he'd found buried inside you.
When he finally pulls back to look at you, his eyes are dark and possessive. Sweat drips from his temple as his hands snake beneath your thighs, pushing them towards your chest as he fucks you harder.
"Missed you so much…"
Thrust.
"And this is what I come home to?"
Thrust.
The headboard knocks softly against the wall.
"Tell me I'm better."
Thrust.
"Now."
You gasp, fingers clawing at his biceps. The muscles in your thighs twitch and burn from the position.
"You're s'much better, 'Leb… mmmghhh—!"
"That's fucking right."
One hand leaves your thigh to grab your cheeks, forcing your glazed eyes back onto him. Your face is squished and hot beneath his palm.
"I catch you using it again," shivers run down your spine at his tone, "and it's going down your throat, understood?"
Horny thoughts EXTRA: Caleb and Valko using a dual entry fleshlight as punishment.
Link for a visual (very NSFW) 🔞MDNI🔞
This is a gift and a thank you for the amazing ideas (including this one) to @stardustsirens 💜💜💚💚.
Check the rest of the Horny thoughts list here
For two men who had both agreed—out loud, with words, like adults—to share a relationship with you, Caleb and Valko were doing a spectacular job of acting like they'd never heard the word compromise in their lives.
It had started over breakfast.
Specifically, it had started over the fact that Caleb had taken the last of your coffee without asking and Valko had taken that personally.
"That's not what this is about and you know it," Caleb said, his voice gone quiet, that meant he was past the point of raising it. He stood in the living room with his arms crossed "You've been doing this for months. Every time I'm here you find something. The coffee, the blanket, the remote—"
"She was cold," Valko said. "I gave her the blanket because she was cold. You were sitting right next to her and you didn't notice."
"I noticed."
"You were watching the stupid game."
"I can watch the game and notice she's cold at the same time."
"Clearly not, since I'm the one who got up."
Caleb's eye twitched. Just slightly. "You got up from the other side of the room to bring her a blanket that was sitting six inches from my hand so you could—"
"So I could what, Caleb? Make sure my girlfriend wasn't cold? That's the crime we're prosecuting today?"
"She's my girlfriend too."
"Then act like it."
Caleb uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, and Valko, because Valko had never backed up from anything in his life and wasn't about to start now, also stepped forward to meet him. They ended up in the middle of the living room with their chests almost touching and matching expressions of immovable stubbornness.
"You want to talk about acting like it," Caleb said, very quietly. "Let's talk about last Tuesday."
"I'm gonna need you to be specific."
"You called her ten times, Valko."
"I was checking on her."
"Ten times. In an hour. I was with her. She didn't need to be checked on, she was fine, you just wanted to make sure I knew you were calling"
"This is actually insane," Valko threw one hand up. "You're telling me I'm not allowed to call my girlfriend?"
"Not when I'm with her"
"I'm trying," Valko said, clipped and precise, "to take care of her. Which I realize is a foreign concept to a man whose primary contribution to this relationship is showing up on weekends and looking pretty—"
"I look..." Caleb stopped. A vein in his temple was doing something concerning. "That is not the point—"
"Oh my god, that is enough."
They turned at exactly the same time, the argument dying mid breath, and found you standing in the bedroom doorway. You had your arms crossed, a silk blindfold hanging from each hand, and the expression on your face was one you reserved for occasions when you had reached the outer limit of what you were willing to tolerate.
You looked at Caleb. Then at Valko. Then at the ridiculous amount of physical space they had managed to eliminate between two fully grown men who had, three days ago, been in your bed at the same time without anyone losing a limb.
"I have watched you two argue all day" you said. "You have both been in this relationship for months. You have both—" you paused, choosing words, "demonstrated, repeatedly, that you are capable of being in the same room as each other."
Neither of them said anything. Caleb had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. Valko looked like he wanted to say something and was physically restraining himself.
You held up the blindfolds.
"I'm done mediating. You want to act like you don't know how to share?" Your eyes moved between them, steady and completely unmoved by the combined effect of the two of them standing there looking like scolded golden retrievers. "Then I'll make it simple for everyone."
-------------------------------------------------
The bedroom was very quiet by the time you got them both in there.
They ran out of things to argue about. It was hard to continue a territorial dispute when they couldn't see where they were in the room. They stood where you'd put them, stripped bare, blindfolded, shoulders still carrying the tension from the living room but with nowhere to direct it anymore. Both of them had their hands at their sides, not touching anything, assuming they were far away from each other.
They were not.
They were close enough that if either one of them exhaled too hard they'd feel it. You'd done that on purpose.
You sank to your knees between them and looked up at their faces —both of them tight jawed, heads slightly tilted, trying to orient themselves by sound alone— and took a moment to appreciate the fact that two of the most difficult men you'd ever met were currently standing blindfolded and completely at your mercy because of a disagreement about coffee.
You poured the lube and wrapped your hand around Caleb's cock first.
His head went back immediately, a rough groan pulling out of him, hands gripping his own hips to stop himself from reaching for you. "God, your hand—can do it a bit faster?"
"Don't rush her," Valko's voice came out tighter than he intended. He was trying to figure out from the sound of Caleb's voice exactly how far away he was standing.
You moved your hand to Valko and his whole body shuddered, a sharp exhale escaping through his nose. "Fuck, I've been waiting all day."
"You're both getting it," you said, keeping your voice smooth and even.
You picked up the sleeve from the floor beside you.
Dual entry, no center barrier, ribbed on both ends. They knew you loved toys and they loved using them on you. Neither of them had any reason to suspect what this one was about to do.
You lined it up, shifted your weight onto your heels, and pushed it down over both of them at the same time.
The sound they made was almost identical, two sharp, breathless gasps in perfect sync, the ribbed interior gripping them both tightly. For a second they both just stood there processing the sensation.
Then you pushed them closer, the rest of the way in.
The tips of their cocks met somewhere in the barrierless middle.
"What—" Caleb's whole body recoiled, knees buckling, one hand shooting out sideways for something to grab onto and finding nothing. "What the—what is that—"
Valko made a sound that was not a word in any language. He'd gone completely rigid, every muscle locked up, his chin dropped to his chest.
"Is that—" Caleb's voice came out strange and strained, working through the information his body was sending him with visible effort. "Is that another—is someone else—are you—" He stopped. "What the fuck?"
"That's 'ko," you said pleasantly.
"What the hell—" Valko's hips snapped back on reflex, a choked sound tearing out of him that he was going to pretend hadn't happened. "Sweetheart, what did you just—"
"Relax," you said, both hands clamping down over the center of the sleeve, fingers squeezing the material to keep them where they were. "You didn't want to share so now you're sharing this."
Caleb's breathing had gone completely to pieces. His chest was heaving, jaw working around words that weren't coming out in the right order. "You actually—" A sharp breath. "You seriously—"
You gave the sleeve one slow twisting squeeze and he lost the sentence entirely.
"Look at you both," you teased, from your knees again, looking up at two flushed faces with tremendous satisfaction. "So territorial. So impossible. And completely hard inside the same toy."
"I am hard for you," Valko snapped, the words coming out slightly less convincing than usual given the circumstances. A dark flush had crawled all the way up his neck and into his ears. He tried to step back, thighs shaking. "Take it off. Right now. I am not doing this, I don't—"
"You're not going anywhere."
You delivered the first stroke before he finished the sentence and the sound that came out of both of them at the same time was something you were going to think about for a very long time.
The friction was immediate and overwhelming—the ribbed interior stimulating the entire length of their cocks while they were pressed tip to tip. Neither of them pulled away.
What happened instead was considerably more predictable given who they were.
Valko's jaw set. You felt him shift his weight, recalibrate, and then drive his hips forward hard—a full thrust into the sleeve that was transparently designed to shove Caleb back through force of will. "Move," he said, through his teeth.
"No," Caleb answered and met him head on.😝
The impact of them hitting tip to tip inside the slick toy punched a moan out of both of them, loud enough that you were briefly grateful for the thickness of the bedroom walls.
You started pumping the sleeve to match their rhythm and leaned in. "There you go," you kept your voice low, right in the space between them. "All that energy you've been wasting arguing about coffee." Another stroke, firm and deliberate. "Look how much better this is."
"Don't act smug about this."
"I'm not acting smug," you said, completely smugly, picking up the pace. "I'm just saying. You've both been impossible for three months and it took me five minutes to solve it."
"This isn't solved—" Caleb's voice broke on the last word as you twisted your wrist on the next steoke. He swore, hips stuttering forward. "This is—this is not what I'd call solved—"
"Less talking," you said."More cooperating."
"I am not cooperating with him," Valko thrusted forward again.
Caleb met him again without hesitation.
"Come on, 'ko," you watched his face carefully. "He's pushing you back. Are you really going to let him?"
"Pips—"
"Absolutely not," Valko said through his teeth and reached out blindly until his hands found Caleb's shoulders and dug in. He used the grip to anchor himself, rolling his hips forward in slow circles that ground them together until his voice betrayed him, dropping from furious to undone in the space of a single breath. "I'll—" a shaking exhale, "I'll outlast him. Just like I've done it for months."
"You are shaking," Caleb pointed out, panting, sweat running down his temples and soaking into the edge of his blindfold. His hand had found its way into Valko's hair, gripping tight, the only thing keeping him upright as your hands worked faster. "You're already—you're twitching, I can feel it—you're so close you can't even—"
"Don't," Valko warned.
"You're falling apart and I've barely—haah—" Caleb's smugness dissolved as you squeezed the center of the sleeve. "God—"
"Shut up," Valko's command would have landed better if it hadn't come out an octave higher than his normal voice, cracked clean down the middle by another roll of his hips.
You slid your free hand up the flat of Caleb's stomach, felt every muscle pulled tight, holding back. "Tell me how it feels," you ordered.
"It's—" Caleb's was losing rhythm, the competitive edge bleeding into something desperate. "It's too much. The heat—I can feel him—Pips, please, I'm going to—"
You stopped the stroke immediately, keeping them locked against each other with nowhere to go.
Caleb made a sound that was mostly just suffering.
"Not yet," you said, turning your head slightly. " 'ko. Tell him."
"Tell him what?" Valko gritted out.
"How close you are."
A long silence broken only by both of them breathing like they'd been running.
"Damn it," Valko said finally, the grip on Caleb's shoulders turning white knuckled. "He's—" another shaking breath, "he's too much. Too hot. Everything he does just—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. "Stop moving, Caleb. I'm serious. Stop—"
"I can't," Caleb moaned, his whole body moved forward, one final thrust that buried him as far into the sleeve as he could go.
Valko's forehead dropped forward, finding Caleb's shoulder, Caleb's hand was still in his hair. Their chests were heaving in the same broken rhythm, breath mingling in the small space.
"There," you said quietly. "Was that so hard?
Slowly, like he was doing it without deciding to, his body moving before his brain caught up, Valko's forehead dragged up from Caleb's shoulder, sliding along the curve of his neck, up his jaw, until it came to rest against Caleb's forehead.
Caleb went completely still. You didn't move. Didn't speak. Just watched.
Valko's hands, still gripping Caleb's shoulders, slowly loosened. Spread flat. Like he was steadying himself against something he hadn't been prepared for. His breath came out ragged and uneven against Caleb's lips.
Caleb's fingers in his hair tightened again and he tilted his head up slightly.
Valko tilted his down.
Their mouths met somewhere in the middle and neither of them made it a question.
It wasn't soft. It was two people who'd been circling each other for months finally landing, all that accumulated tension finding somewhere to go at once—Caleb's hand pulling Valko in by the hair, Valko's hands sliding from Caleb's shoulders to the back of his neck, both of them breathing hard through their noses because neither one was willing to break it long enough to properly inhale.
You started moving the sleeve again. Slow at first. Then faster.
Valko broke the kiss on a sharp desperate sound that Caleb swallowed immediately, pulling him back in, and then both of them stopped pretending there was anything controlled left about any of this. Their hips moved together instead of against each other for the first time, same rhythm, same direction, working into the sleeve in sync while the sounds they were making dissolved from words into something much more honest.
"Together," you said quietly, from below "Both of you."
They came at exactly the same moment, Valko first by a heartbeat, Caleb right behind him, both of them shaking, gripping each other and breathing into each other's mouths while it rolled through them in long waves. Valko made a sound low in his chest that you'd never heard from him before. Caleb's knees buckled and Valko caught him without thinking, arms wrapping around him on reflex, and they stood there holding each other up.
You looked up at both of them, blindfolds askew, foreheads together.
"So," you laughed "Same time next week?"
Caleb laughed first. Just one short exhausted sound, but it was real.
Valko pressed his lips to Caleb's temple, which surprised everyone in the room including him, and said nothing.
You stood up, brushed off your knees, and went to make yourself a cup of coffee. Nobody had taken the last of it this time.
summary: when you struck the arrangement with damian wayne to act as your fake boyfriend for a party hosted by your ex and ex-best friend—you thought your choice made perfect sense. choosing damian wayne, the most logical, unattainable person you knew, removes the complication of feelings being involved. till of course, damian stops pretending.
pairing: damian wayne x fem! reader
content: flufff, damian wayne is a yearner and takes his role of being your pretend boyfriend very seriously.
"You are suggesting I partake in a fake relationship—" Damian Wayne stares down at you, still dressed in his lab coat, with what may be the closest to genuine concern you've ever seen on him, all cramped into the crease of his brows. "To help with your dilemma?"
"Exactly." Your grin is the only positive staple throughout this entire exchange, after your successful cornering of only the most unattainable medical student of Gotham University. "It's like a fancy title for an assignment partner but removing the word 'assignment', right?"
"Assuming that your ambitious plan would even work." Crossing his arms, Damian looks more unimpressed over your carefully planned spreadsheet titled 'Fake-Dating Operation' than the earlier assigned pairings by Dr. Lake. "Do humour me on your astounding confidence that I would even offer my assistance."
"We're already assigned together for the semester." You shrug. "What's one reunion party, and an hour spent pretending you don't hate my guts like you do with everyone else?"
He stares at you for a long beat, before his lips twitch into the smallest smirk. "I appreciate your attempts at lowering my expectations further on how idlers are able to accomplish wasting hours in a day. I expect your section of the report to be done by Sunday."
"Wait!" Your hand reaches out to grab at the ends of his sleeve as he moves past you. "I am an amazing fake partner. I provide free dog walks, cookies, amazing work ethic—it's practically a free service just for a little acting on your part!"
"I appreciate the desperation, and the answer is still a no."
"Wayne!" You call out as his sleeve slips out of your fingers, stopping in your tracks right in front of him—blocking the exit. "Damian, please."
His head tilts to cast you a disapproving expression. "My word of advice, is to gain enough respect for yourself to not be bothered by what others think."
Your lips pull together into a frown, but you refuse to be dissuaded, not when you've already laid all your cards on the table. You didn't expect it to be easy, and you had already prepared yourself for his vicious tongue.
"My self-respect has already been trampled on when they decided to send me the invitation." You state honestly. "It's scheduled for its revival in five weeks, after the party. I'll be a changed person by then, scout's honour."
His brow pulls higher, as if silently questioning if you had even part of the Gotham Scouts, but you're not done.
"But before then, I plan on being the pettiest, deranged person in all of Gotham University." You declare. "And that includes you in my plans, because you, Damian Wayne, are the only person who checks all my requirements of a fake boyfriend."
"I'm honoured." He mocks, gaze flickering past towards the hallway.
"You are Walter's role-model, he would kiss the test tubes you lay your fingers on. Paige has a Pinterest folder labelled with your name, and it has all your news sightings saved by colour coordination."
"Sounds like your issues derive more from the company you keep." He mutters, expression pulled together in disgust.
"Point besides, I want it to be you, Damian Wayne." You confess.
It sounds ridiculous, but this was fully concerning your pride and something you've forgotten in your years of working yourself away for your dreams, which was the taste for controlled chaos. He blinks once, staring at you incredulously as if deciding where to place you in his ranking of newly discovered lunatics.
"You're the only person who will drive them as insane as they've made me." Your voice chokes, filled with determination or buried rage, the difference didn’t seem to matter. "You could walk in there for just an hour to save my life, and I know that you won't have the slightest chance of complicating things, or falling in love with me—and that's what makes this perfect. This may sound crazy to you, but you're the only person that's made sense to me ever since my life was turned upside-down."
Your chest heaves, and your arms are still outstretched to stop him from leaving the lab. You're nothing like this—impulsive, frantic, verging on insanity—but you're also done being complacent. Of letting things go just because it's the right thing to do.
After what feels like eternity, Damian's expression flickers. Implicit and almost undetectable, but his gaze is on you as if he's finally registering your existence and trying to catalogue you into a different box than the one he's placed you in.
"Send the spreadsheet to my email." He answers apprehensively, as if he can't believe the words coming out of his mouth. "I will review through the calendar on its... feasibility. Expect a response by eight p.m.."
You let out a held breath, a smile finally breaking through. "Thank you, really—"
"On the condition that I expect you to finish your section by tonight."
Your expression freezes. "Tonight?"
"To prove your desperation's worth considering." He tosses you a mocking smile, all sharp edge and nothing considerable of warmth. "You have ten more hours before my interest wanes."
Your smile weakens, blinking rapidly as you calculate your remaining time to draft something of substance. "Okay, sure— that's not going to be a problem."
It's worth it. Dealing with Damian Wayne is going to be worth it.
I have reviewed through your spreadsheet in detail. Do answer my enquiries on my comments below.
- I believe watching romance comedy as 'theory practice' is highly inefficient and prone to fantastical expectations. Do amend this.
- As for my 'meeting' availabilities, I am free on Thursdays and Fridays at noon to two, on the condition that at least an hour be reserved for actual assignment discussions. You are required to provide evidence of actual progress for the assignment, or this arrangement will be considered void.
- Provide me a list summary on details for answers regarding possible interrogation questions during the party. It will be more efficient as compared to you providing me the details in person.
As for the assignment, your section draft is acceptable, and I expect our lab findings to be updated into your table by the following lab session next week.
Regards,
Damian.
You can barely contain your grin, kicking into the sheets despite the exhaustion that plagues your bones from grueling non-stop over the section and multiple tabs later. He had looked through your multi-coloured spreadsheet calendar, and actually considered it with his own enquiries. Typing out your own response, you give serious thought into his enquiries.
To: [email protected]
Subject: Reply: 'Fake-Dating Operation' Spreadsheet Review
Thank you for your detailed consideration of my spreadsheet. Your efforts are acknowledged and appreciated.
- I believe we are required to watch at least one rom-com that involves fake-dating. Neither of us have had previous experience in this department (unless you'd like to share valuable information), and it will boost our success rate.
- Perfect! I'm available on Fridays, and scout's honour, I promise to have my progress brought for each meeting session.
- As for the list, I will provide you possible answers, but some may require in-person explanations. I'll explain more this Friday!
Can't even express my thanks on how grateful I am, you're the best Wayne in history!
Signing off your name, you close your laptop with the giddiest smile you've had since—at the reminder, your grin falters. Your chest thuds faintly, as if reminding you that the fun you've just experienced can still be dampened by reality. No, you refuse to let it ruin your enjoyment.
This is the most alive you've felt in weeks, and you're going to make the most of it. If your life feels like it's finally picking up through colourful spreadsheet rows and columns, and waiting on an email reply from the most terrifying student in Gotham University—so be it.
Damian slides your extremely lengthy list across the lunch table, and you can barely hide your shock that he actually printed it out—before you catch sight of many red circles marked neatly around your points.
"Your least favourite vigilante is Robin?" He interrogates.
You blink in surprise, not expecting him to start there. "Well, he's not exactly original—I mean, c’mon, they’re multiple versions of him."
His lips part, aghast in a half-caught scoff. "He's one of the most prominent vigilante figures in Gotham."
You shrug. "Spoiler's cooler."
He clicks at his tongue. "You have horrible taste."
"You are not telling me that you, Damian Wayne, have a favourite and that is Robin?"
He doesn't blink. "There are several other questionable details in your list."
"Yes, I can see that." Peering back at your list, your brows furrow. "What's wrong with liking Gotham's Pizza?"
"Only that you're clearly fond of days-old grease and artificial cheese."
"Hey, that's where it gets its flavour."
He shakes his head, disgusted. "I refuse to be associated with someone who has non-functioning taste buds."
"Fine—we'll say we often have dates at Romeo's instead." You shrug. "Not like I'll be caught there after our agreement's expired."
He raises a brow. "Expired?"
Pointing at your open tab, you reference a newly added row. "Our break-up, scheduled for Monday after the party."
He stares at the date, before his gaze roams over you with a questioning look. "Despite my lack of experience, should you not consider the likely suspicions if you were to end a relationship three days after the party?"
Your lips part into an 'oh'. "I thought you would want to get it over and done with as quickly as possible."
His expression closes in, gaze narrowing. "I will not put my reputation at stake by agreeing to this facade, if it means having our efforts go down the drain because of an obvious flaw.”
Your grin slips out uncontrollably. “You just said ‘our’ efforts. Look at us, the perfect team.”
His expression remains impassive, before he raises a slow brow. “Switch to the assignment tab.”
“Yes, sir.”
Resting below a willow tree, your third Friday with Damian is spent resting below the shade on your picnic cloth—one you used to share with Paige. The sight of its red plaid, stuffed behind your piles of clothes in your wardrobe, was getting sad—even for you.
Damian’s back is resting against the tree bark, shoulders nearly taking up the width—brows impossibly furrowed as his gaze narrows on your laptop displaying ‘To All The Boys I Loved Before’.”
“This movie is non-sensical.”
“I think it’s romantic.” You shrug.
He tosses you a judgmental glance. “Having your own blood betray you by revealing your own personal letters, is your idea of romance?”
“I mean Lara Jean and Peter, Damian.” You snort. “That’s our main source of inspiration.”
“He’s hardly appealing.” He scoffs, arms crossing over the other. “Is this the standards you expect from our arrangement?”
“If this is mediocre—” You respond, aghast. “You have no idea how dire love can be nowadays.”
His frown deepens. “You are not expecting me to perform in this manner?”
“What—falling in love with me?” You grin. “No, I do not expect you to be Peter Lavinsky.”
He stares at you with barely concealed frustration. Before you can tease him further, something purple is tossed into your face.
A yelp escapes your mouth, the light weight of an object falling into your lap.
“That’s—the discontinued, limited edition Spoiler cap!” You gasp, eyes widening in realisation. “How did you get this?”
He shrugs begrudgingly. “My sister used to be a collector. She doesn’t mind giving it away.”
“Giving it away?” You mutter incredulously. “This is actual gold. Your sister is my favourite person on Earth.”
His brow twitches. “I bargained for that cap.”
You snort. “What did you exchange it for, your dignity?”
“You have no clue on my sacrifice." He grimaces.
“Your sacrifice is acknowledged." You tease, before letting out another huff of amazement. “This is the best day of my life.”
When your gaze falls back to the cap, tracing your fingers over the logo—you miss the twitch of his lips into a semblance of a smile.
You missed today’s meeting without prior notice. Not that your absence has affected my ability to resume our assignment, but after your frequent reminders to not miss on our mandatory meetings—it leaves me with doubt that you intentionally missed our sessions on your end. Do update me as soon as possible on your status.
Regards,
Damian. (Sent yesterday, 1.20 p.m.)
Subject: Reply: Reminder on Friday Meetings
I feel I must reinstate that my previous email regarding your absence, as well as this reply, should not be twisted in its meaning as more than a mere enquiry. Given previous evidence of the average speed of your responses, a full 24 hours with a lack of response prompts me to send another email. Do respond when you are able.
Regards,
Damian. (Sent today, 1.32 p.m.)
Three respectable knocks resound against your dormitory’s door. A groan escapes your lips, your head pounding from the cold you’ve caught from a late night running through pouring rain. You had missed the bus and had to make it back before curfew, and now your body is reminding you of its frail mortality, chills shaking throughout your limbs and rendering you heavily immobile.
The knocks echo again when you shift your head deeper into the pillows. You muffle curses into the cotton, gripping at your sheets to steady yourself as you force your body upright. The world sways on its axis as you make your way—shifting pathetically with every step, towards the door.
Missing your lock a few times, you finally grab a hold of the chain and slide it off, clicking the door open. You’re immediately faced with a broad chest, donning a familiar black sweater. Shifting your gaze up, you’re met with Damian Wayne’s narrowed gaze, sweat trailing down his temple.
“Damian?” Your voice croaks, and even the attempt of speaking hurts. “What are you doing here?”
He takes one glance, and immediately, his expression contorts in… concern? You barely have time to explain about the cold, or an apology for missing the meeting, when you feel the warmth of his palm press against your forehead.
You blink, stunned as he measures your temperature. He shakes his head slightly in a disapproving manner. “Your temperature is too high.” His tongue clicks with his observation.
You suppose he was right. You did feel one wrong step from keening over and lying on your welcome mat.
“I got caught in the rain.” You explain, trying your best to pull together a more reassuring expression, one less filled with nausea-induced tension. “I’ll be fine—just need rest.”
His frown creases deeper. “Have you taken medicine?”
You try shaking your head, but that loses whatever balance you had left. The world actually tilts, or maybe you are the one who's obeying gravity—but strong arms catch you before you collapse.
“Look at your state.” Damian grits, pulling you back upright but closer. There's barely any space left between the two of you. “This fever, has it worsened considerably?”
“Yeah—but I didn’t have anyone to call.” You mutter in truth, cheek still smushed against his chest as support. “I ran out of medicine a while ago, and by the time I woke up—I couldn’t get out of bed.”
You feel his arms tense around you. Above the crown of your head, you feel a soft sigh. “You have me.” He mutters, almost reprimanding.
Your brows furrow in confusion. “You would get me medicine?”
“That would be a start.” He states, his grip shifting with his words.
The world shifts again when his hands wrap around the under of your thighs, lifting you into his arms gently to not worsen your state. If your mind wasn’t completely swarmed by the symptoms of your cold, you’d stop to think of how strangely sweet it was that Damian had come all the way to your dormitory, and that he was carrying you bridal-style towards your bed.
”It’s not usually this messy.” You feel the need to point out, words muffled against his sweater. “You just have impeccable timing.”
His lip twitches involuntarily as he sets you down against the thrashed sheets. “Organised according to your system?”
You smile weakly at the thought of your colour-coded spreadsheet. “Exactly.”
He places his palm against your forehead again, and you subconsciously find yourself leaning into his touch. “You’re like—really warm.” You murmur. “Do you always run hot?”
He swallows, touch lingering on your skin. “Your temperature is dysregulated. I’ll return soon with medicine. Rest. I won’t be gone long.”
“Okay.” Your lids fall shut, the pounding lessening with your head burrowed into the pillows, and his touch a gentle anchor. “You know—you’d be a great boyfriend for someone one day.”
You don’t hear a response, and your honest thoughts continue to tumble out from your skull like a cracked jar. “You’re really nice, Dami.” The shortening of his name feels like cotton candy stuffed in your mouth, and you barely register the stiffening of his fingers. “Fierce, but I like that about you. I like you a lot, actually. Not in a swooning way, but in a—I’m really glad I met you kind of way.”
He doesn’t pull away when your lips finally clamp shut, but the silence is almost deafening. You peek open with one eye, catching his expression. He’s staring at you… as if no one’s ever said that to his face—ever.
“Don’t make it weird.” You tease softly, voice tethered with exhaustion. “I’m just giving you your deserved five stars.”
You hear the soft echo of his scoff, withheld from its usual bite, but you don’t hear much else after. Only that the lingering touch of his fingers over your skin stays put till sleep catches up on you, and the world falls silent under the weight of Damian’s gaze. Okay, maybe you were lying a little about the swooning.
Fevers fade, but the warmth that lingers seems to seep past the well-defined borders of a spreadsheet, or the predictable order of a list—like the one currently in your hand.
"Favourite vigilante?" You quiz, red pen bitten between your lips as you laid stretched on the wooden bench.
"Spoiler." He answers, tossing you an expression as if to convey that he couldn't believe you even bothered with such a question.
"Good job." You tease, fiddling with the cap of your pen, attached at the end. "Favourite date spot?"
"Gotham's Pizza." He huffs.
You blink. "Hey, it's supposed to be Romeo's."
"You prefer Gotham's." He mutters.
"But you don't." You remind him.
Averting his gaze to your lips, his fingers loop around the red pen, dragging it gently out from your teeth's grip, and adjusting the answer with a cross. "That's irrelevant. I'm merely pointing out an inconsistency."
Your lips quirk up into a smile. "You don't even need this list anymore. Why bother keeping it?"
Tension pulls briefly at his jaw, but it relaxes before you can trace it to an emotion. "You haven't tested me on all the questions."
You lean in, the crinkled paper resting below your fingers as you gaze into his eyes. "Alright? Something off the books." You hum. "What do I think of Damian Wayne?"
He blinks, surprised. You wait patiently, the warmth of summer carrying the scent of grass blades past the picnic table, the world narrowing into the space between the two of you.
His lips part after a moment. "Fierce." He answers. "Though you're one of the few who doesn't run from it."
"What's there to run from?" You hum. "I think he's nice, you should give him some credit for that."
His brow raises, amusement flickering in his gaze. "That's not a common perception."
"Yeah, but no one else gets to experience him being their partner." You tease. "He even offers to rearrange your dormitory to a better system if you're lucky."
He scoffs lightly. "That's only considering if the existing system barely works."
"Just say you hate colour-coding, Dami." You snort. "I know you're itching to fix our spreadsheet."
His expression flickers for a moment. "Not exactly."
You tilt your head, questioning. His gaze averts to the open spreadsheet, something familiar after the weeks spent together. "It's grown on me."
Grown on him—despite it being everything he initially found horrendous, from the many details pasted in long paragraphs into the comments, and the bright colours for the special shared Fridays between you two. Something warm pools in your chest, and you find your gaze trailing to the red pen held between his fingers instead.
"You're more prepared for this party than I am." You admit softly.
You feel his attention switch onto you, trained on the nervous tick you have where you hyper-focus on something brightly coloured. He twirls the pen once, considering.
"You don't have to go through with this." He says. "Just say the word. I'll honour whatever decision you make."
His reassurance makes you consider it, you really do. With the dreaded anticipation finally reaching its peak, with the party being tonight—you have stopped to think if it was worth it. To show up in a room where the story's long gone sour, and your presence is more likely to be a blight than a welcomed gift.
Then again, you hadn't prepared this all for nothing. You hadn't gotten to know Damian—for nothing.
"No, it'll be fun." You smile, meeting his gaze. "We'll be just like Lara Jean and Peter, but with better standards."
Damian's mouth twitches, almost imperceptible. "Agreed."
Your fingers catch onto the silk-like fabric of your dress. Once bought as a birthday present, you never had the chance to wear something like this. Walter had called it overkill, and you convinced yourself that you’d eventually find a day to wear the gorgeous shade without feeling inadequate for it. Nothing required overkill more than tonight.
Damian's promised to pick you up, even when you had reassured him that meeting at the venue was fine. You stare at yourself in the mirror, and something quivers in your gut.
You don't feel as brave as you'd like, not even in your favourite dress. The thought of the two people you once trusted most being together, exchanging normal niceties with you as if nothing had ever happened—you're seriously beginning to overthink just how horribly awkward this situation was going to be.
What if it wasn't like the movies? What if Damian saw too—just how horribly small you felt—and decided you weren't worth the spreadsheets and lists and medicine kit he over-splurged on when you caught that cold?
The party was going to be over in an hour, you had promised Damian the both of you would be present for no more than that duration—and now, you feel ridiculous in your own skin. You're tempted to text him if he wanted to ditch and just head to Romeo's instead—when you hear the signature three knocks of his against your door.
You swallow your fear-induced nausea back into your gut, and force yourself to open the door with something akin to a smile. Your expression freezes in place at the sight... of Damian tidied up.
You knew he was handsome, you obviously had eyes, but to see him in that white collared shirt that made his green eyes pop, loosened at the buttons, with his hair pulled back and just—wow. Damian Wayne, you were seriously going to the party with this guy? As your fake boyfriend?
You don't notice the way his own expression completely falters at the sight of you. Nor the way his fingers tightened into a fist, digging into his palms.
You only notice how the silence stretched out between the two of you lingers long enough to matter.
"Hey, handsome." You start, trying to regain your composure. "You cleaned up nice."
He blinks, as if stunned. His response comes out delayed, brows pinching together into something honest. "You are beautiful."
Not you look—as if he's only noticed. No, he emphasised the 'are', as if he's always seen it. Your heart doesn't quite know what to do with that information, or how to catalogue the way he's looking at you as if he's—not pretending.
"Thank you." Your voice comes out weaker than you intended, because for all his intensity, Damian being soft is what renders you stunned. "I still don't know if I should do this."
His gaze clears, something steady offered to you when you return it. "You don't need to be sure." He answers, offering his hand. "That's what I'm here for—so you will not be alone."
He's right. Despite your doubts, seeing him in front of you reminds you of the steady presence he's offered from the very beginning. Through your nonsensical email threads, the Friday lunches, the rom-com binging, rushing to the store to buy you cold medicine—your fears always quieted when Damian was near. Your smile brightens, taking his hand in yours. "Let's get this operation over with."
Walter catches sight of you first. His vision is perfectly facing the entrance, your ex's gaze meeting yours as soon as you step through the doorway—and he immediately taps on Paige’s shoulder. An insincere smile arrives on his expression, but it freezes in place the moment Damian enters with you.
He isn't the only one to notice. You knew the effect Damian had on others, standing out without even meaning to, much less in an environment like this. Damian doesn't seem bothered at all, because you feel his attention acutely trained on you instead. His hand rubs a soothing notion over your lower back, as if you're the only person he's aware that exists in the room.
Walter's gaze drifts, from the dress he hated to Damian’s hand wrapping around your waist. He puts the facts together, faster than you had when he and Paige had approached you with the news. The warmth leaves his welcoming expression, and he whispers something into Paige's ear.
Damian registers this entire exchange in under a second, and his hand tightens briefly on your waist, as if reassuring you that he was right beside you.
The distance closes in between you and the two people your life once revolved around, and you train your gaze on Walter, because you can tell immediately that Paige is struck by Damian's appearance, more so by his hand on your waist.
"It's been a while." Walter starts off, though his gaze barely lingers on you before switching to Damian. "Wayne, I don't believe we've been properly introduced."
"There hasn't been a need." Damian shuts him down.
The atmosphere turns icy the moment Walter registers the tone of Damian's voice. He laughs, astonished—and embarrassed. Paige finally recovers in an attempt to salvage the situation, pulling together her best smile.
"Well, it's lovely to have you both here." Paige starts, and her voice is distant—nothing like the girl you used to know, hidden under the blankets of your beaten IKEA sofa when watching Scream for the tenth time. "You look amazing, and—sorry, I'm just curious on how the two of you know each other?"
Her question is directed towards you, but Damian takes the lead. "She's my partner."
"Partner?" Walter chokes on his breath. "As in—"
You finally find your voice to speak. "We are seeing each other." It comes out levelled, matching Damian's.
Their shock registers in different levels. Walter's nears disbelief, while Paige—looks at you, betrayed.
"I didn't know about this." Paige stammers.
"Yes, you didn't." You answer shortly.
She stares at you as if she's seeing a stranger. "Right. I guess it's been a long time since we've caught up."
You're tempted to laugh. A long time is an understatement. You can feel Damian's low scoff against your shoulder, and the absurdity of the situation feels less gut-wrenching with him by your side.
"You know she's a real mess." Walter speaks involuntarily. "Like her apartment's an actual hazard. Isn't that right, Paige?"
Paige freezes, lips parting into a gap, but Damian's faster.
"I am aware—that she has her own unique system." Damian states, gaze narrowing in discontent. "It didn't take long for me to understand it, or to appreciate it."
"Appreciate it?" Walter sneers. "Are you sure you're talking about the right person?"
"Yes." Damian doesn't hesitate, eyes steady, fixing yours. As if he was conveying it you instead of the audience, he answers. "I'm sure."
You swallow dryly, unable to hide the softened smile you usually reserved for him only when it was the two of you. Both of them catch sight of it, and you can sense the question becoming less of whether it was real, and more of the how.
It's easy to act in love when Damian's this close, muttering words like that, with his familiar warmth grounding you through the stagnant conversation. So instinctive, that you think it's easier than breathing.
You sense Paige shifting closer and you force yourself to focus, and casting her another glance, only to finally catch a glimpse of the girl who used to be your closest person.
“Hey, can we talk?” Her expression is vulnerable, tentative in her offer. "Y'know, catch up in private."
Damian immediately shifts you back slightly with his weight, but you place a hand tentatively on his arm. His gaze locks onto you, reading into your expression. His brow raises as if to ask, 'You're sure?'. You give him a nod.
"Fine by me." You murmur, because despite everything—maybe a part of you still wanted to hear the honest truth. For her decision, for when she decided that you should be cut out of the picture then forcefully glued back into what they envisioned to be the perfect way to continue their lives. Maybe you just wanted to see if the Paige you knew still existed.
The moment you enter an unoccupied bathroom, Paige presses the door shut and immediately turns to you. "You have to spill."
Your brows furrow. "On?"
"Damian Wayne." She points out as if it's obvious. "You don't even know him."
You blink once then twice, and something colder settles in the cavity of your chest. "Things change, Paige."
“I’m just worried. It's all just so sudden.” Her hand reaches out to grasp yours, and you resist the instinctive flinch. “You’ve always been sensitive, and a guy like him is just bad news. I mean—Damian Wayne? I get that it feels exciting, but he barely knew of your existence before and now, he's suddenly dating you? I just want us to be on the same page here, that it doesn't really make sense."
A scoff rises up your throat, barely constrained as she continues on, her softened voice a perfect replica of how she had been when you first made your decision to break up with Walter.
“You know I’ll always support you if you need me.” She reassures. “You can tell me anything.”
The anger bubbles so violently, and it hits you. That despite everything, you had came into this party hoping that maybe a fraction of the girl you knew—who cried with you on bathroom floors when you experienced homesickness, who celebrated when you managed to pass your first year of medical school, who was there for your entire life in Gotham—would still exist. That something would give way, and her leaving would make sense, to have a reason. You realise now, that you've only been giving her excuses on the basis of what she used to mean to you.
Your wrath gives way to something cold, absent of grief—only the need to rip your hand out of hers. You do just that, and her shock barely registers before you open your mouth. “No.” Your voice carries a finality, strength you’ve been trying to garner since the day you lost her. “You don’t get to define my relationship with Damian, when you never addressed ours.”
She blinks, affronted. “Is this about Walter? We've already explained—we only felt what we did after the two of you broke up—”
“No, this isn’t about Walter. This is about us.” The coldness in your tone finally strikes something honest in her expression. “You broke my trust, Paige, and then you invite me to this party cause you thought it would help make amends? I thought you brought me in here, to at least explain to me on what happened to us."
"You should've told me." She says, a frown stretched at her lips. "If you weren't comfortable being around me and Walter, we wouldn't have forced you to come."
We—the word runs through your mind like a tire screech.
“Yes, I wasn't comfortable—I nearly died inside when it happened." You raise your head. "I lost my best friend, who drove me to karaoke night whenever I needed to forget about home. I lost the girl who swore to re-watch all rom-coms that ever existed in the 90s before we both turned fifty. I lost the only person I trusted since I moved into this city, over what—a man? Was it worth it, was our friendship worth it?”
She swallows thickly, and you see a fracture of the girl you recognise under the glitter, and the tears collecting at her lower lashes. “I thought you understood—that I love him differently than you did.”
Your gaze doesn’t flinch at the admission. “You were by my side when he broke up with me, when I told you that he called my dresses ugly, when he said my attitude was too much, when he made me smaller because it was more convenient for him when I was quieter, and you still got together with him. Maybe I thought you loved me enough too, to understand why I wasn't comfortable with it.”
Her expression shatters, and tears drip down her cheeks before she harshly wipes at them, smearing her eyeshadow. “You don’t get to say that.” She spits out. “Making it seem like I chose Walter over you, when you brought in Damian Wayne.”
Your brows contort. “What are you talking about?”
“You decided to come to the party to—prove you suddenly became better than us just by being with a Wayne?” She snaps. “You're acting like this because you think he's going to stay—but you don’t seriously believe it’ll actually last when Walter could barely stand you?”
That anger, buried deep, comes alive with a roar. You take a step forward, causing her to inch backward as you close in. “That's all your taking from this?" Your scoff resounds coldly. "Damian was the one who was there for me when you left—so yeah, I have more trust in him to treat me like an actual person."
She flinches, her lips parting in the same way she had done earlier when Walter tried to make you small. Silent, and unable to do anything but lay there in her guilt of absorbing an idea of who you are in Walter's head, and erasing what made you human in her eyes.
"Rest assured. You will never gain my trust again to even know what’s going on in my life and the people in it, and you never will.”
Taking a step back, you look at her one last time. Of the mess of her makeup, the same puffy eyes whenever she cries that you used to immediately follow up with the instinct to comfort her. You feel none of that now. “Goodbye, Paige.”
She doesn’t call out your name when you turn your back on her, and she doesn’t come after you. You needed that, more than you needed her to be the person you thought she was. To be blunt, and truthful to yourself—even if no one but you believed in it.
The euphoric lightness of your body from finally severing the bond doesn’t last long, when a rough hand grabs at your wrist. Being twisted around, you’re faced with Walter’s accusing expression.
“What did you say to her?”
“What I discussed with Paige stays between us.” You answer coldly, tugging at your wrist.
His hand tightens more, almost bruising. “You’re bringing in that attitude of yours, when we were kind enough to think of you? To let you stick around our lives?"
You’re sick of this narrative, of acting like you should’ve been grateful they thought to include you into this sick little group from your past life as if they hadn’t completely burnt it into flames.
“Walter, get your hands off before I shove—“
A fist slams into the side of Walter’s face before you even have a chance to finish your sentence. Screams erupt from the crowd, or cheers—you can barely tell because your eyes are locked onto Damian, who’s grabbing Walter by the collar with chafed knuckles.
Multiple eyes are on them, but your own gaze is fixed on Damian’s expression, who has gone completely cold. Nearly murderous, and filled with uncontained wrath. His glare, almost deadly, is trained on his target in a way you’ve never seen him before. The composed, distant Damian—is nowhere to be found.
"You stay away from her." Damian growls.
"What the hell, man!" Walter spits, blood sprayed over his nose. "Do you seriously think she's worth—"
Damian drags him closer by the collar, and something inhuman flashes past his concentrated gaze. "She's worth more than you ever will dream of trying to be. You are nothing, and even daring to lay a hand on her is something you will pay for."
“Damian!” You shout.
That finally reaches him, past the simultaneous gawking and murmurs. It’s as if he’s reentered his own body, and Damian immediately drops Walter to the ground with a loud thud. Walter lands embarrassingly on his bottom, and his entire face has gone red with shame.
His gaze switches to you, and his wrath fades immediately into concern. His eyes fall onto your bruising skin, and his emotions fall apart into something colder. You have a feeling if you don’t get him out of this room, this fight may escalate into something much worse.
Pushing through the forming crowd, you reach out. “Let’s get out of here.” You plead, holding out your hand.
His gaze drops to your fingers, then back to the forming outline of a hand gripped around your wrist, and you see his calculating assessment. Damian leans lower, muttering something low into Walter’s ear. It is quick, but you see the way Walter completely freezes in place—his struggle evading from his body like a statue. When Damian’s eyes meet your frightened ones once more, he doesn’t hesitate a second longer before grabbing your hand.
Damian doesn't waste time in leading you through the crowd, towards the exit and away from the escalating noise—and into the night breeze. When the cold wind finally hits your skin, his hand remains firmly intertwined with yours as he guides you somewhere far away—the fact still lingers that Damian, perfect track record and Wayne prodigy, just punched someone for you.
“You punched him.” You mutter faintly, seated at a bench you’ve both found, crisp leaves surrounding you with the faint singing of crickets.
“He was hurting you.”
“Damian, the whole school’s going to talk about this.” You stress. “You’re going to get in trouble, possibly a suspension.”
His jaw clenches. “I am your partner.”
Damian’s agitated. Over the situation, despite there no longer being any witnesses to his supposed protection. His shoulders are tense, jaw clenched and his gaze—you recall how he had looked at Walter when he landed that first hit, the pure anger that seized him.
“Not a real one.”
He flinches, as if struck, and you knew immediately that your words landed wrongly. His emotions topple over the other, and you’re unable to name any that arises before it all falls apart like his body’s regained consciousness. Concealed, and distant.
“My mistake.” He mutters. “I’ve forgotten my standing.”
“Damian—”
“I do not wish to inconvenience you.” He states, words leaving in a bitter rush. “I have overstepped, I realise that.”
“Damian.” You call out for the second time, fingers reaching for his—and he finally breathes when your warmth seeps through his skin. You’re relieved he doesn’t pull away. “That came out wrong. I’m not mad you punched the jerk, I would’ve done it myself. I am glad you stood up for me, but I’m just confused on why you did it, because there's nothing at stake for you, only something to lose.”
His expression stiffens at the verbal admission of his visible frustration. This conversation sounds much too real, and the lines that have been carefully drawn are erasing themselves, leaving behind uncharted territory. One you weren’t sure how to navigate.
“You do matter to me, as more than a role.” You plead. “I don’t want you to think you’re someone I chose out of convenience. Please don’t believe that.”
His breath exhales low, controlled. His gaze flickers with the briefest uncertainty, and you realise how selfish you’ve been. This arrangement had been perfect for you, that you simply assumed it was the same for him.
“No, you are not at fault.” He mutters after a moment. “It is not your responsibility to handle the consequence of my actions. We had agreed on no complications, and I have done exactly that.”
His jaw tightens, before he finally spits it out. “I punched him because the boundaries of what was was real or imagined between us has never made a difference to me. He had hurt you, not only physically—“ His gaze shifts to your reddened wrist, and it darkens completely. “—but he is a culprit to your existing pain. I was angry, because I couldn’t comprehend that I was finally faced with the two morons who thought losing you was even a consideration, and to see them hold no remorse for it made me forget my place.”
“I’ve always excelled in being what others expected of me.” He mutters. “When you approached me, it was the first time I had not wanted to be confined to a role. I did not want to partake in a façade, because—I had wanted your request to be for something real. Then, you mentioned that you picked me because I had not the slightest chance of falling for you. It was ironic, and I knew then that I should've rejected your request."
"But I started to earnestly believe—that I could separate emotion and duty. I could be in your presence, and not feel the consequences if the arrangement ended—because nothing would be real.”
“Till I realised—how much it affected me to not have you truly at all.” He confesses. “I should’ve been honest, that this arrangement had become the opposite of what we’ve agreed upon. But I was afraid, of admitting that I wasn’t capable of control, of driving you away."
“Damian." Your frown deepens. "You’re not going to lose me.”
“I don’t know.” He blurts honestly. “I do not know how to handle want. I am built of structure, of worth to prove why I deserve to keep my position, that has always been what I’ve provided. I do not know how to want without providing substance to covet a person.”
“But I want you.” He exhales. “Not once has it been pretend for me, not when it had already existed before our arrangement. Every moment I reached for your hand, every time I checked that horrendous shaded calendar of yours. I rushed over the moment you went missing when you were sick, because I had wanted to look for you. I have never once hesitated in calling myself your partner, even knowing the role was temporary. I want you, in the real, complicated way—that I've failed in being what you needed me to be."
"That's not true." You break. "That's not what I need you to be at all, Damian."
He finally looks at you, a little less restrained—and almost startled at your words.
"If you had been real about this the entire time, Damian, then so have I." You admit. "I chose you because I thought you wouldn't have fallen for me, that is true—but that is because I also thought it was safe because I knew I was going to fall for you."
"I wasn't kidding when I said I like you." You confess. "In all of the complicated, real sense of the word, and you were always going be the one I was going to choose. Even if you had said no, I wouldn't have asked anyone else. I wanted you from the start, Damian, and that hasn't changed. I was going to ask you to freaking Romeo's after this, if you wanted this to be real too."
The moment those words leave your lips, Damian closes in. His fingers tug you by your waist, his hand wrapping around the nape of your neck, and his lips are on yours. Damian Wayne, who still has forming bruises at his knuckles from a fight he landed in to defend you, is kissing you on a park bench in the middle of the night—and you're not dreaming.
It's clearly his first, but there's something so tenderly sweet about it that your heart trembles uncontrollably—enough to render something wet at your lashes by the time he's pulled back.
He pulls apart just to meet your gaze, and you've never seen him this relieved. "This is real." He restates, as if he can't quite truly believe it.
“We did just have our first official fight.” You murmur, cheek pressed to his chest.
"Official." He hums in acknowledgement. "I like that."
Your smile teethers into something soft when you feel the soft press of his mouth against the shell of your ear. "Yeah, guess our operation tonight ended in a success."
Horny thoughts EXTRA: Caleb and Valko using a dual entry fleshlight as punishment.
Link for a visual (very NSFW) 🔞MDNI🔞
This is a gift and a thank you for the amazing ideas (including this one) to @stardustsirens 💜💜💚💚.
Check the rest of the Horny thoughts list here
For two men who had both agreed—out loud, with words, like adults—to share a relationship with you, Caleb and Valko were doing a spectacular job of acting like they'd never heard the word compromise in their lives.
It had started over breakfast.
Specifically, it had started over the fact that Caleb had taken the last of your coffee without asking and Valko had taken that personally.
"That's not what this is about and you know it," Caleb said, his voice gone quiet, that meant he was past the point of raising it. He stood in the living room with his arms crossed "You've been doing this for months. Every time I'm here you find something. The coffee, the blanket, the remote—"
"She was cold," Valko said. "I gave her the blanket because she was cold. You were sitting right next to her and you didn't notice."
"I noticed."
"You were watching the stupid game."
"I can watch the game and notice she's cold at the same time."
"Clearly not, since I'm the one who got up."
Caleb's eye twitched. Just slightly. "You got up from the other side of the room to bring her a blanket that was sitting six inches from my hand so you could—"
"So I could what, Caleb? Make sure my girlfriend wasn't cold? That's the crime we're prosecuting today?"
"She's my girlfriend too."
"Then act like it."
Caleb uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, and Valko, because Valko had never backed up from anything in his life and wasn't about to start now, also stepped forward to meet him. They ended up in the middle of the living room with their chests almost touching and matching expressions of immovable stubbornness.
"You want to talk about acting like it," Caleb said, very quietly. "Let's talk about last Tuesday."
"I'm gonna need you to be specific."
"You called her ten times, Valko."
"I was checking on her."
"Ten times. In an hour. I was with her. She didn't need to be checked on, she was fine, you just wanted to make sure I knew you were calling"
"This is actually insane," Valko threw one hand up. "You're telling me I'm not allowed to call my girlfriend?"
"Not when I'm with her"
"I'm trying," Valko said, clipped and precise, "to take care of her. Which I realize is a foreign concept to a man whose primary contribution to this relationship is showing up on weekends and looking pretty—"
"I look..." Caleb stopped. A vein in his temple was doing something concerning. "That is not the point—"
"Oh my god, that is enough."
They turned at exactly the same time, the argument dying mid breath, and found you standing in the bedroom doorway. You had your arms crossed, a silk blindfold hanging from each hand, and the expression on your face was one you reserved for occasions when you had reached the outer limit of what you were willing to tolerate.
You looked at Caleb. Then at Valko. Then at the ridiculous amount of physical space they had managed to eliminate between two fully grown men who had, three days ago, been in your bed at the same time without anyone losing a limb.
"I have watched you two argue all day" you said. "You have both been in this relationship for months. You have both—" you paused, choosing words, "demonstrated, repeatedly, that you are capable of being in the same room as each other."
Neither of them said anything. Caleb had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. Valko looked like he wanted to say something and was physically restraining himself.
You held up the blindfolds.
"I'm done mediating. You want to act like you don't know how to share?" Your eyes moved between them, steady and completely unmoved by the combined effect of the two of them standing there looking like scolded golden retrievers. "Then I'll make it simple for everyone."
-------------------------------------------------
The bedroom was very quiet by the time you got them both in there.
They ran out of things to argue about. It was hard to continue a territorial dispute when they couldn't see where they were in the room. They stood where you'd put them, stripped bare, blindfolded, shoulders still carrying the tension from the living room but with nowhere to direct it anymore. Both of them had their hands at their sides, not touching anything, assuming they were far away from each other.
They were not.
They were close enough that if either one of them exhaled too hard they'd feel it. You'd done that on purpose.
You sank to your knees between them and looked up at their faces —both of them tight jawed, heads slightly tilted, trying to orient themselves by sound alone— and took a moment to appreciate the fact that two of the most difficult men you'd ever met were currently standing blindfolded and completely at your mercy because of a disagreement about coffee.
You poured the lube and wrapped your hand around Caleb's cock first.
His head went back immediately, a rough groan pulling out of him, hands gripping his own hips to stop himself from reaching for you. "God, your hand—can do it a bit faster?"
"Don't rush her," Valko's voice came out tighter than he intended. He was trying to figure out from the sound of Caleb's voice exactly how far away he was standing.
You moved your hand to Valko and his whole body shuddered, a sharp exhale escaping through his nose. "Fuck, I've been waiting all day."
"You're both getting it," you said, keeping your voice smooth and even.
You picked up the sleeve from the floor beside you.
Dual entry, no center barrier, ribbed on both ends. They knew you loved toys and they loved using them on you. Neither of them had any reason to suspect what this one was about to do.
You lined it up, shifted your weight onto your heels, and pushed it down over both of them at the same time.
The sound they made was almost identical, two sharp, breathless gasps in perfect sync, the ribbed interior gripping them both tightly. For a second they both just stood there processing the sensation.
Then you pushed them closer, the rest of the way in.
The tips of their cocks met somewhere in the barrierless middle.
"What—" Caleb's whole body recoiled, knees buckling, one hand shooting out sideways for something to grab onto and finding nothing. "What the—what is that—"
Valko made a sound that was not a word in any language. He'd gone completely rigid, every muscle locked up, his chin dropped to his chest.
"Is that—" Caleb's voice came out strange and strained, working through the information his body was sending him with visible effort. "Is that another—is someone else—are you—" He stopped. "What the fuck?"
"That's 'ko," you said pleasantly.
"What the hell—" Valko's hips snapped back on reflex, a choked sound tearing out of him that he was going to pretend hadn't happened. "Sweetheart, what did you just—"
"Relax," you said, both hands clamping down over the center of the sleeve, fingers squeezing the material to keep them where they were. "You didn't want to share so now you're sharing this."
Caleb's breathing had gone completely to pieces. His chest was heaving, jaw working around words that weren't coming out in the right order. "You actually—" A sharp breath. "You seriously—"
You gave the sleeve one slow twisting squeeze and he lost the sentence entirely.
"Look at you both," you teased, from your knees again, looking up at two flushed faces with tremendous satisfaction. "So territorial. So impossible. And completely hard inside the same toy."
"I am hard for you," Valko snapped, the words coming out slightly less convincing than usual given the circumstances. A dark flush had crawled all the way up his neck and into his ears. He tried to step back, thighs shaking. "Take it off. Right now. I am not doing this, I don't—"
"You're not going anywhere."
You delivered the first stroke before he finished the sentence and the sound that came out of both of them at the same time was something you were going to think about for a very long time.
The friction was immediate and overwhelming—the ribbed interior stimulating the entire length of their cocks while they were pressed tip to tip. Neither of them pulled away.
What happened instead was considerably more predictable given who they were.
Valko's jaw set. You felt him shift his weight, recalibrate, and then drive his hips forward hard—a full thrust into the sleeve that was transparently designed to shove Caleb back through force of will. "Move," he said, through his teeth.
"No," Caleb answered and met him head on.😝
The impact of them hitting tip to tip inside the slick toy punched a moan out of both of them, loud enough that you were briefly grateful for the thickness of the bedroom walls.
You started pumping the sleeve to match their rhythm and leaned in. "There you go," you kept your voice low, right in the space between them. "All that energy you've been wasting arguing about coffee." Another stroke, firm and deliberate. "Look how much better this is."
"Don't act smug about this."
"I'm not acting smug," you said, completely smugly, picking up the pace. "I'm just saying. You've both been impossible for three months and it took me five minutes to solve it."
"This isn't solved—" Caleb's voice broke on the last word as you twisted your wrist on the next steoke. He swore, hips stuttering forward. "This is—this is not what I'd call solved—"
"Less talking," you said."More cooperating."
"I am not cooperating with him," Valko thrusted forward again.
Caleb met him again without hesitation.
"Come on, 'ko," you watched his face carefully. "He's pushing you back. Are you really going to let him?"
"Pips—"
"Absolutely not," Valko said through his teeth and reached out blindly until his hands found Caleb's shoulders and dug in. He used the grip to anchor himself, rolling his hips forward in slow circles that ground them together until his voice betrayed him, dropping from furious to undone in the space of a single breath. "I'll—" a shaking exhale, "I'll outlast him. Just like I've done it for months."
"You are shaking," Caleb pointed out, panting, sweat running down his temples and soaking into the edge of his blindfold. His hand had found its way into Valko's hair, gripping tight, the only thing keeping him upright as your hands worked faster. "You're already—you're twitching, I can feel it—you're so close you can't even—"
"Don't," Valko warned.
"You're falling apart and I've barely—haah—" Caleb's smugness dissolved as you squeezed the center of the sleeve. "God—"
"Shut up," Valko's command would have landed better if it hadn't come out an octave higher than his normal voice, cracked clean down the middle by another roll of his hips.
You slid your free hand up the flat of Caleb's stomach, felt every muscle pulled tight, holding back. "Tell me how it feels," you ordered.
"It's—" Caleb's was losing rhythm, the competitive edge bleeding into something desperate. "It's too much. The heat—I can feel him—Pips, please, I'm going to—"
You stopped the stroke immediately, keeping them locked against each other with nowhere to go.
Caleb made a sound that was mostly just suffering.
"Not yet," you said, turning your head slightly. " 'ko. Tell him."
"Tell him what?" Valko gritted out.
"How close you are."
A long silence broken only by both of them breathing like they'd been running.
"Damn it," Valko said finally, the grip on Caleb's shoulders turning white knuckled. "He's—" another shaking breath, "he's too much. Too hot. Everything he does just—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. "Stop moving, Caleb. I'm serious. Stop—"
"I can't," Caleb moaned, his whole body moved forward, one final thrust that buried him as far into the sleeve as he could go.
Valko's forehead dropped forward, finding Caleb's shoulder, Caleb's hand was still in his hair. Their chests were heaving in the same broken rhythm, breath mingling in the small space.
"There," you said quietly. "Was that so hard?
Slowly, like he was doing it without deciding to, his body moving before his brain caught up, Valko's forehead dragged up from Caleb's shoulder, sliding along the curve of his neck, up his jaw, until it came to rest against Caleb's forehead.
Caleb went completely still. You didn't move. Didn't speak. Just watched.
Valko's hands, still gripping Caleb's shoulders, slowly loosened. Spread flat. Like he was steadying himself against something he hadn't been prepared for. His breath came out ragged and uneven against Caleb's lips.
Caleb's fingers in his hair tightened again and he tilted his head up slightly.
Valko tilted his down.
Their mouths met somewhere in the middle and neither of them made it a question.
It wasn't soft. It was two people who'd been circling each other for months finally landing, all that accumulated tension finding somewhere to go at once—Caleb's hand pulling Valko in by the hair, Valko's hands sliding from Caleb's shoulders to the back of his neck, both of them breathing hard through their noses because neither one was willing to break it long enough to properly inhale.
You started moving the sleeve again. Slow at first. Then faster.
Valko broke the kiss on a sharp desperate sound that Caleb swallowed immediately, pulling him back in, and then both of them stopped pretending there was anything controlled left about any of this. Their hips moved together instead of against each other for the first time, same rhythm, same direction, working into the sleeve in sync while the sounds they were making dissolved from words into something much more honest.
"Together," you said quietly, from below "Both of you."
They came at exactly the same moment, Valko first by a heartbeat, Caleb right behind him, both of them shaking, gripping each other and breathing into each other's mouths while it rolled through them in long waves. Valko made a sound low in his chest that you'd never heard from him before. Caleb's knees buckled and Valko caught him without thinking, arms wrapping around him on reflex, and they stood there holding each other up.
You looked up at both of them, blindfolds askew, foreheads together.
"So," you laughed "Same time next week?"
Caleb laughed first. Just one short exhausted sound, but it was real.
Valko pressed his lips to Caleb's temple, which surprised everyone in the room including him, and said nothing.
You stood up, brushed off your knees, and went to make yourself a cup of coffee. Nobody had taken the last of it this time.
We want to be seen, we want to be heard, and it should be about more than just dissatisfaction and money!!!
Justice for Valko!!!
Infold cannot silence us!!!
BE LOUD!!!
And in case you're wondering: Why is she doing this? Is it just an RP account? No. I may not have many followers, but enough to draw attention to ourselves!
Description: Valko bench pressing… Sitting on Valko while he bench presses… Sitting on Valko’s face while on the bench… Riding Valko while on the bench… (BENCH PRESS ME DADDY!!!)
WC: 4.4k
I’ll get back to writing for the other LIs (eventually) I swear, lol. Anyway…this is inspired by both @/mwphisto’s post about Valko loving post-workout pussy and my obsession since his first teaser of the thought of him bench pressing. Enjoy!
Btw in this he’s repping 225lbs LIGHT WORK as a WARM-UP ok ok like…SO easy for him. 315lbs would be closer to an actual work out lmao. 405lbs when he’s feeling spicy for a handful of reps. For my non-gym / non-freedom units folks, 225lbs is two 45lbs plates on either side of the bar (4 total = 180lbs) and a standard bar is 45lbs which all = 225lbs! (~102kg) For context, 225lbs is like the impressive and coveted goal in the gym for bench. 225, 315 (~142kg), & 405 (~183kg) are the tiers of godhood for the chest/bench gym bros, lol. My man can hit ‘em all with ease!!!!! Scooping you up and tossing you around is LIGHT WORK!!!!!
I FEEL IT IN MY BONES Y’ALL IDGAF, HE’S COMIN’ BACK!!!!! HOPIUM!!!!!
- Blueberry જ⁀➴ ৻ꪆ (Masterlist) ☜ check for more Valko works!
Valko’s voice is laced with amusement and cuts into the silence, “Like what you see, doll?”
Standing off to the side, lazily stretching after completing your workout, you blink rapidly at the question, “W-what?”
“You’ve been watching me for a whole five minutes.” He chuckles lightly, pushing the barbell back up with ease, the plates on either side making a small clank with each push.
You scoff, “It has not been five minutes...”
He smirks as the bar comes back down to meet his chest, “Six, actually.” Unable to help yourself, you listen closely to the sound of his exhale when he pushes up again, “I was just giving you the benefit of the doubt, baby.”
You finally give into a laugh, rolling your eyes at him, “Oh, shush you.”
He continues to tease you, “Mmm…how many sets do you have left of watching me?”
You step closer, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “S-shut up!”
“Can I work in?” He laughs again before his voice develops a slightly suggestive tinge, “When’s it my turn to watch you, hm?”
“You’re— Shush, you!” Still watching him carefully, he raises his legs, his knees casually in the air and engaged with his core, forcing his chest, shoulders, and triceps to do all of the work. “Pfft…you’re such a show off.” Despite your tone, your eyes drift, fixating on his taut hamstrings before back up toward his arms.
He grins, his breathing and movements still completely controlled. “You like it. Besides, I’m just helping you complete your set of something fun to watch.”
“Ugh…” You fight not to bite your bottom lip; he looks so unbelievably good...
“Still watching…” He extends his words, taunting you with his mocking tone.
“Val! Would you just—focus, over there, hm?” No matter what you say, you can’t peel your eyes off of him.
“How can I? You’re distracting me by keeping your eyes fixed on me.”
You offer a “Hmph,” and start to turn around. “Fine, I won’t look.”
“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, there.” He chuckles, “That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to distract you, show off. You might hurt yourself.” You try to maintain a smug tone, not wanting to give in—just yet. In the end, it’s a futile and losing battle...
“Me? Pfft, never.” You let your eyes focus on him again when you hear the barbell rack with a loud clank. He sits up and speaks with a warm, coaxing voice, “C’mere.” As if possessed and driven to be close to him, you don’t hesitate to make your way over to him. “I was watching you earlier, you know.”
“Oh, yeah?” You fold your arms over your chest and raise your brows, “And what was I doing?”
He smiles, running a hand through his hair, “Facing away from the mirror…doing RDLs…”
Slowly, you crawl onto the end of the bench and straddle it, “Hmm, did you enjoy the view?”
“Mmhm, oh yeah.” He nods in tandem with his words, letting the faintest hint of a laugh sound from his nose with a small huff.
You scoot closer toward him on the bench, your knees touching his, “I wasn’t…distracting you?”
He reaches out to stroke your cheek with his thumb, giving you a warm smile, “Mmm, you know me, I’m very good at multi-tasking.”
“Hmm, debatable…” You shrug nonchalantly, trying to fight the smile working its way onto your own lips.
Pretending to be offended, he scoffs, “How rude, babe!” He pinches your cheek softly before pulling his hand back.
You smile at him before your voice becomes a coo, “Just kidding…”
“No, you’re not—” He sounds determined to prove you wrong.
“Hey!” With you giggling, he’s pulling you up into his lap by your waist, your legs dangling past his thighs and hips on either side of the bench. “Yes, I am!” Keeping you close with his arms around your waist, he moves in to nuzzle his face into your neck. “H-hey, I’m sweaty!”
“Mmm…don’t care—” Suddenly and without warning, his tongue runs up the length of the side of your neck, flat and slow, careful to taste the salty dew present on your skin.
“You know what distracts me just as much as how you look…it’s how good you smell right now…” he releases a groan against your skin, “s’fucking good…”
“Val—” You gasp at the feeling of his teeth lightly sinking into your jaw after his way up your neck, holding the bone between his sharp canines with ample restraint. “Mmph—nngh—”
He lets go, placing soft kisses along your jaw in between his words, “All hot…flushed…sweaty…fuck—you invade my senses.” His hands firmly grip your waist, “Maybe you really did distract me…”
“Fine,” you push hard against his chest with both of your palms until his back is flat against the bench again, “you should…continue your workout, then.” Applying a bit of pressure with your hips, you let yourself create a small drag against his body. “You did say you were good at multi-tasking, yeah?”
His voice noticeably drops as he holds in another groan, “Mmm…I did say that, unfortunately...” He scans you carefully, starting with your hands on his chest before his eyes land on your frame...on your hips...
You quirk a brow at him, “So...go on, then.”
He offers a short laugh, “Fine.” Suddenly, he’s holding onto the tops of your thighs with his hands and lifting the both of you up and back on the bench, causing you the shudder at the ease and weightlessness he creates when lifting with you on top of him so easily. He scoots back with you on him until he’s properly centered closer to the weight rack again, “I’ll give you the best seat in the house.”
You scoff playfully, folding your arms across your chest again as his hands wrap back around the bar a shoulder’s width apart. You watch the way he braces the space between his forefinger and thumb against the bar with both hands before wrapping his fingers around it, making two tight fists around the metal.
During each press—each rep—you watch his chest expand, his body in complete control. He’s not looking at you, but there’s a small smile playing on his lips anyway. Whenever the barbell descends, he inhales through his nose, and when he ascends the same bar with ease, he pushes out a smooth but firm exhale through his mouth. You note to yourself that his form is quite literally perfect—even with you sat on top of him.
With his feet planted firmly on the ground beside the bench, his glutes and core engaged, you feel the pressure from his groin press up into you as he works—the sensation instinctively causing you to twitch and uncross your arms.
“This is the best seat in the house…” Your voice is quiet as you let your fingers skim across his abs concealed by a pesky compression shirt, carefully feeling them contract with each movement.
“Mhm, I told you.” He inhales through his nose as the bar lowers to his chest, “Next time,” the bar goes up again with his deep exhale, “I should press you instead.”
“Mmm…I think you’d like that more than me.”
“Maybe…” He glances at you before back up at the bar, his head not moving from its rest on the bench. “But…I could get my hands all over you…” the bar descends again, “squeeze you nice and tight…” before back up. “You’d like it, no?”
“Mmhm…” You’re honestly not sure what the last thing he said was, let alone whatever you said before that.
You dig your nails lightly into his abs through the material of his shirt, your hips driving down in the process. “Ah, hey—careful, pup. You don’t want me to drop this on myself, do you?”
Your voice is breathy but honest, “You won’t.” You simply watch the flex of his pecs, shoulders, biceps, forearms, abs… While a designated chest exercise, each muscle moves and thus then fills with blood, causing a noticeable pump to arise within every muscle by the second. If he wasn't already completely filling out his shirt...he sure as hell was now.
As you watch, your eyes single out various veins. The large, singular one that runs along the peak of each of his biceps…the various smaller ones running down the length of his forearms and onto his hands…the one running down the side of his neck…
Your voice becomes a whisper, “You’re s’fucking hot…” Your hands then flatten over his abs, careful not to push down, but rather, feel him. Compelled to speak from a place of total honesty, “I wish your cock was in me right now…”
On the latest push up on the bar, it held up directly over his chest, he stops—holding it there longer than usual. His eyes widen slightly before relaxing back into a focused gaze, a small smile appearing on his lips. “Mmm…” the bar goes back down again, “is that right?”
Your throat is swollen and you swallow harshly, looking for relief but not finding it, “Mmhm…”
He lets out a short, smug laugh...but you feel his lower half twitch against the pressure you’re creating with your body. He pushes the bar up again, “While I’m doing this? Or…”
“Either.” You answer honestly, tipping your hips forward until your hands riskily get closer to the bar that’s intermittently meeting his chest, again and again.
“Didn’t you tell me to finish my workout?” Despite his question, you feel his hardening cock start to press up and into your angled ass that’s resting in his lap.
“I did say that…didn’t I?” Your eyes are wholly fixated on his chest.
His voice becomes equally as quiet as yours, “Mhm, you did…”
Running your hands back down over his torso, you let your fingertips trace each dip and divot of his abs, “I don’t think either of us did any…cardio…today…”
“Mmm, then what would you call this morning, beautiful?” His voice remains low as he tries to stay focused, “Don’t tell me you forgot...”
You bite your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood—picturing it...remembering it. Your fingers move to trace the prominent V-lines that trail lower and lower, somewhere you can’t currently reach... “More wouldn’t hurt…would it?”
He exhales harshly as the bar goes up again, “Definitely not…” His following inhale is shaky as he lowers the bar to his chest.
Seeking the next opportunity of the bar going up and away from his chest, you reach forward and allow the tips of each of your middle fingers to graze his nipples, drawing a short half-circle around them before grazing over them completely.
“H-hey!” You smirk at the quick and apparent hardening visible under his tight shirt.
“What?” You can’t help but grind your hips a little more intentionally against his lap, “Isn’t this seat like the splash zone? It’s an…interactive experience.”
“M-mhm, sure…” Despite still working the bar at a consistent and controlled pace, his breathing becomes mismatched—more shallow.
After your taunt on his chest, you let your hands glide down to his obliques to make room for the bar before it can come down again. During the following rep, you let your hands slide down the sides of his torso until they land at the top of his hips just above your thighs.
As the loss of his focus builds and a silence occurs, you decide to tease him further, “What are you thinking about, babe?”
He laughs, finally racking the bar. He lifts his head to look at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, “Do I have to answer that question? You already know the answer.”
You squeeze his hips, “What if I want to hear it?” He sits up fully, snaking his arms around your waist, keeping you sat pretty in his lap.
“I’m thinking about…” his lips brush the bottom of your chin and a shudder of his own is followed by a deep inhale through his nose, “how all I can smell…” then, his lips touch your jugular directly before he speaks against your skin, “is how fucking wet you are from watching me.”
Your chest is already heaving. “You’re not going to…finish your workout, hm?”
You feel him smile against your skin, “Oh, I am.” Without another reservation, his lips are attacking your neck—a bit playful a first, a small laugh from him sounding against your skin. However, your subsequent series of giggles quickly fades and transforms into a series of moans upon feeling his tongue…his teeth…
“Fuck—I want to be inside you so badly.” You whine at the feeling of him biting your neck, a moan immediately following as he soothes the bite with his tongue. “You taste so fuckin’ good.”
“Everywhere…you taste amazing…you smell amazing...” Your hands paw at his broad back as you create a helpless rocking in his lap from your hips, desperate to feel more friction from the situation—from him.
He pulls his face away from your neck, his lips softly finding yours before deepening the kiss, his hands smoothing down and over your back. In the midst of a short moan from you, he breaks the kiss, “But…there’s something else I wanna do first…”
“M-mhm,” your lips brush against his, simply desperate to be kissing him instead, easily eliciting a groan from him, “w-what’s that?”
His hands abandon your back and waist, arriving on the tops of your thighs instead. Lacking restraint or the ability to wait any longer for an answer, you’re gripping his face with both hands, pulling him back into a needy kiss. His fingers delicately pull and stretch before firmly gripping the material of your leggings, releasing right after so that they snap back against your legs. Breaking away from your lips, “Take these off…right now.”
Staring into his eyes, with a hint of mischievousness, “Will you help me?”
“Mhm—” You’re immediately giggling again as he snatches your waist with both of his hands, easily lifting you up and off of his lap with the support of you shifting your legs around him and to the side. Delicately, he sets you down onto your feet beside the bench.
“C’mere.” Pulling you close by your hips but turning you around in the process, his teeth sink into the supple flesh of your ass through the material. “Fuck—” Immediately, his fingertips sink underneath the fabric at your hips, harshly tugging the tight material straight down until it reaches your knees.
There’s a quiet gasp from him when he instantly realizes you’re not wearing any panties. “Naughty pup, aren’t you? No wonder I could smell it so particularly…”
Thinking he may grope or bite you again, you’re somewhat surprised when he pulls you back down to sit at the end edge of the bench, your bare ass making contact with the leather. “You know…” he reaches down and grabs both of your ankles, swinging your legs up into his lap, “these are really fuckin’ sexy and all…but…” he grips the material at your knees, tugging until everything ends up stuck at your ankles, “they’re a pain in the ass to get off.”
You’re nodding, both of you laughing as he snaps them off your feet aggressively, the nylon stretching and making a loud snap when you’re finally free of them. You chuckle, “You seem to be doing just fine.”
“Mhm…” Still holding the leggings in his hands, he bundles the center of the material into one hand, pressing them against his nose and mouth, inhaling deeply while keeping his gaze fixed on you.
“Oh my god—hey!” You scramble to reach for them, laughing during your attempt.
“Mm-mm.” He shakes his head no and blocks your arms with his other hand, holding you back from him. “God, you smell s’fuckin’ good.” His voice is muffled by the fabric against his face.
“Val!” Still laughing and trying to snatch them away from him, a blush is tearing its way up your neck to your cheeks. “Y-you—”
Holding you back, he tosses them aside onto the ground beside the bench, still batting your arms away. Once they meet the floor, he’s snatching you by your waist again, easily picking you up and returning to you to your rightful place on his lap. His tone completely shifts to a more gravely and less playful one, “Fuck that—I want the real thing—”
Your shock and residual laughter readily becomes another moan as he’s crashing his lips onto yours, one of his hands around your waist and the other coming up to cradle the back of your head just beneath your ponytail. Breaking the kiss but staying close, you both smile before returning to a lustful kiss.
Without warning, his hand wraps your ponytail around his fist, a light tug causing your lips to break. “You’re gonna let me taste you, yeah?”
Your voice is a broken whine, incentivized by the hold he has on your hair, “Mmhm—nngh—”
“Good girl.” Releasing you completely, he lies back down on the bench and you reach your hands out toward his chest to steady yourself. “Uh-uh, stand up. Come here.”
With an eager glance being exchanged between your exposed cunt and your eyes, he reaches up to tap the bar. “C’mere, and hold onto this for me, okay?”
“Mhm—o-okay—” You can already feel yourself dripping for him.
As soon as you’re close enough, he snatches the backs of your thighs to draw you closer to him, “That’s it…a little more, pup.”
“Mmhm…” You wrap your hands around the bar, your feet spread out wide enough not to accommodate the width of the bench, but to accommodate the width of him that easily exceeds the relatively skinny bench.
“I’ve been wanting this so badly…you sat on my face like a pretty girl, hm?” His palms glide up the sides of your thighs before reaching around to grip each side of your ass, squeezing you hard, “Would you like that, beautiful?”
“Mmhm—ngh—I w-would…”
“Good.” Still squeezing your ass tight in his hands, he draws you even closer, he himself sinking a bit lower down the bench. “My god…look at you…”
One of his hands leaves your ass, running its way up your side, around your hip, and flattening over your stomach, “Fuck me…this is the perfect view…”
Wearing your own cropped compression long-sleeve, his hand continues up until it’s groping one of your breasts. You coil your fingers tighter around the bar, “Mm—ngh—Val…”
“Yes, baby?” You moan again as your response while his hand shifts to your other breast, squeezing a bit harder than before.
His hands return to the backs of your thighs, tugging just enough that your knees start involuntarily bending, “Go ahead, doll…take the best seat in the house…”
As you lower, he immediately cranes his neck upward to lick a flat, long stripe up and along the length of your slit. “Shit—nngh—!”
“Mmm—my god—you taste s’fucking perfect…” His fingertips sink into your thighs, his nose brushing against the hood of your clit as his tongue breaks past your slit and moves upward, happily collecting the taste of you on his tongue.
Offering a gentle lap against your clit, it’s not long that he breaks away to rest his head back down against the bench. Grabbing your hips suddenly, “Sit. Don’t hover.” He pulls you down hard, his mouth eager and willing to engulf the whole of your cunt pressed against him. “Mmhmm…” The vibration of his vocalization sends a shiver down your spine as a loud moan breaks past your lips.
His hands move up to your waist, holding you firmly in place with no room for escape. Whining at the feeling of the flat of his tongue barely moving against your clit, you grind yourself against his tongue.
He lifts you up hardly an inch so he can speak, his breath washing over you, “Holy fuck—yes. Keep doing that.” You whimper when he tugs you straight back down against his mouth. Offering his tongue to you, you do as he says, grinding your cunt against his mouth at a slow and steady pace, whining at each tug against your clit.
“Mmhm…” A groan reverberates deep from his throat, the sensation already having you close.
You notice your knuckles turning white against the bar, attempting to hold on as tight as you’re able when your legs start trembling. “M-my god—Val—your tongue…” His fingertips dig into your waist, not ready to let you go anywhere or for this to ever end.
You glance down and process his brows knitted together in personal pleasure, his eyes closed. As you stare at him trapped beneath you, you grind your hips forward and back just a bit faster. At the new found speed and the sound of a loud moan falling from your lips, his eyes flutter back open and lock with yours, completely dark and consumed with lust.
Pulling you up only an inch again, he speaks, “That’s it, baby. Fuck yourself on my tongue ’til you cum.”
“Nngh—h-holy shit…I-I—”
“Mmhm…” Done letting you get any respite, he holds you in place, groaning and moaning against your skin, moving his tongue in the way he’s able as you rock against him.
“Fuck—! Oh m-my god—M’gonna—” With completely weak legs, trembling and quaking, he lifts you again as you start to cum so that he can wrap his lips around your clit and suck.
“Val—oh m-my—!” You’re practically shrieking, trying to wiggle in any direction, or at the very least, collapse down again, but he doesn’t let you. Not until your whines of sensitivity tell him you’re done.
With a strong tremble in tow, you finally fully stand back up. “That was…so…fucking…hot.” You’re laughing slightly, still holding onto the bar for support and in shock. “I need you to sit on my cock. Right now.”
You don’t even have the words to reply, a simple moan falling instead just at the thought of him inside you right now.
After a brief adjustment, you’re still standing with your legs on either side of him and bench, and he’s pushed his shorts and briefs off and down just enough to reveal himself. Holding his cock upright for you, you’re taking your time to relax your legs, gripping his chest with both hands. “I need— We’re doing that again later, okay? That was…fuck— Sit on me, please. Right now.”
“Mmhm…” With a whimper, you slowly take the head of his cock into your entrance, whining at the stretch.
Once he’s able to let go of himself, he uses both of his hands to steady your hips as you sink down onto him. “Yes, pup, that’s it—nngh—oh my god—”
Digging your nails into his still clothed chest, your legs continue to shake as you lower and take more of him, “Val—mmph—nngh!”
“Good job, baby—take your time.” Your hands flatten out over his chest, moaning loudly once your body fully meets his and he’s full up inside you. “Good girl…”
Panting heavily, your legs tremble violently before you can even lift yourself again. “Just relax, pretty girl. Let me help you.”
“Mhm…y-yeah…” With his hands firmly gripping onto your hips, you push onto your tippy toes repeatedly, taking him only with his support. “T-thank you…” Your legs are still a trembling mess from being made to cum standing, all of your muscles engaged not just from working out.
“Of course, doll—mmm—fuck—you feel so perfect…”
Consumed by the pleasure he provides, his tip brushing and pressing into your G-spot with each sink down onto him, you’re whimpering but push past the feeling of weakness in your legs, wanting more, and more—faster.
“Shit—y-you’re—”
“Mmhm…” Your nails sink back into his chest again, “You feel so amazing—m-my god—”
Starting to feel weak and completely spent, he can sense your limit before you can, sitting up quickly to embrace you in his arms. “Look at me, baby.” One of his hands comes up to grip your chin softly, gently tilting your gaze to meet his. “I’ve got you, yeah?”
“Mmhm…” A loud moan breaks from your throat at the change in angle while he wedges you further into his lap, your feet finally up and off the floor.
His voice is soft as his lips brush against your cheek, “Just like that, let me do it, mhm?”
“Y-yes, please.” His lips land on your neck softly before he bares his teeth into your skin. “Ooh—” You moan helplessly at the feeling of his hands slipping between your bodies, easily grasping your thighs and ass to move you up and down onto his cock. “F-fuck—nngh!”
“Go ahead, pretty girl. I want to feel you cum around me, don’t fight it.” Despite the confidence, his own voice begins to break at the feeling of you clenching around him.
You’re gasping, letting your body sink into him and become completely under his control—his command, “S’deep—nngh—”
He groans, his fingertips driving deeper into your flesh as he pulls you firmly down onto his cock, “Mmhm—s’nice, right?”
“S’fuckin’ g-good—d-don’t stop…” You rest your head into the crook of his neck, utterly dizzy and at the behest of his control, lifting you back up then down for each plunge, his hips tilting into you each time to add to the pressure.
Seconds after you’re moaning vehemently into his neck, he’s groaning—almost growling—to the feeling of your cunt squeezing his throbbing cock throughout your release, “F-fuck—babe—nngh—!” A choked gasp mixed with a groan rips from his throat, his arms holding you down in place and close to him. As he spills into you, several twitches from his cock make you tremble and shake further—harder, clenching helplessly around him.
Placing a few soft kisses against his neck—your body still trembling—you start to laugh quietly. It’s a breathless, quiet laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “W-what?”
“That really was the best seat in the house...”
He chuckles and kisses the side of your head, smoothing a hand over your back, “Which? My face or my dick?”
“You—!” You purposefully sink your nails into his back, hard.
“Ah—hey!”
You raise your head from his neck and grip both sides of his face; you can’t help but smile at his adorable and loving gaze, “Both, you asshat.”
He laughs again, squeezing his arms around you and laying back against the bench—taking you with him so that you’re resting against his chest. You both release a small moan on the way down, still not fully recovered and still connected.
“You love me.” He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head as you pant against his chest.
Summary: Sylus has noticed you’ve been spending time with someone new lately. When he witnesses the chemistry between you two, he is more than happy to be the final push needed for you both to embrace your wild sides.
Content: MDNI, explicit smut, knotting, A/B/O dynamics, PIV, voyeurism, Valko following directions like a good boy, edging, teasing, established relationship between Sylus and reader, Valko x reader x Sylus implied, fem reader (2.6k wc)
A/N: It’s my birthday today (7/7) 🥳! So I gifted myself with the fic that’s been swirling around my brain since Valko’s original announcement. This is lightly edited, so don’t drag me over any spelling errors. Enjoy!
#BringValkoBack
“So this is your new friend kitten?”
It was well into the night and as you were getting ready for your scheduled call with Sylus, your boyfriend – then Valko knocked on your front door. He knew that Sylus’ extended business trip has left you lonely, and he selfishly selflessly offered himself up as company.
“Typically, cats and dogs don’t get along well but you never fail to defy expectations. Bravo.”
A flush spread across your cheeks at your boyfriend’s teasing heard through the speakers of your laptop.
Of course he noticed that you had been acting off since the moment you met the werewolf. Your libido has been off the charts, he once saw you researching the possibility of having “two soulmates”, and an aura of guilt followed you around like a shadow.
When Sylus tried to pry – you signature stubbornness had you insisting you were fine.
But your boyfriend wasn’t so easily thwarted when he was curious about something. Instead of trying to ask you again he told Mephisto to tail you day and night. He was determined to get to the bottom of this.
When Sylus finally received some footage back, initially nothing stood out to him. Until he saw you meet him.
The first instance the redhead appeared in the footage, Sylus raised an eyebrow and began his deep dive.
The results that came up were not what he was expecting.
Name: Valko
Height: 6’2”
Job: EonCore Chairman
Evol: Metallization
Not only was his kitten fraternizing with the EonCore chairman – said chairman held a few secrets of his own.
When Sylus reached the timestamp of Valko transforming in a werewolf – he sat in silence to digest what he’s just seen. Then, he replayed the footage once more, to make sure he didn’t imagine it.
The next few clips of the wolf involved the two of you rough housing, with him avoiding hurting you at all costs – even if it gave you the upper hand.
Then another clip of him as a fully shifted werewolf with you riding on his back through the forest – cute.
It was the last clip that solidified Sylus’ already forming theory. From his research, this wolf was a fierce fighter. As a chairman he handled press conferences, made tough decisions and deescalated fanatics with ease. From his muscled physique to his stern face and closed off aura – he seemed unapproachable.
But around you?
He was like a puppy, always following you around. Smelling and scenting you at every chance he got.
Considering all this information Sylus had much to consider.
When it came to you – your boyfriend never thought he’d be open to sharing. But there was undeniable chemistry crackling between you and Valko. As he thought over the countless times your face reflected sheer joy in the footage, his mind was made up.
Sylus always encouraged you to be greedy in obtaining anything your heart desired. Why should that only apply to jewels, weapons and plushies?
Not one to let things remain unsaid Sylus cornered you when you came over to visit him before he departed for a business trip.
“Sy- I’m here! What urgent topic did you need to discuss with me in person?”
Moving into the living room, you spot your boyfriend sitting in his favorite armchair. Holding a plushie in his hands. As you walked closer you saw that it was the wolf plushie Valko won for you from the claw machine.
“This plushie is cute, is it a new addition to your collection?”
You bristled at his tone, feeling a wave of teasing heading your way.
“How did you even get that? And yes it’s new…Valko won it for me,” you grumbled, crossing your arms.
“I haven’t heard you mention that name before sweetie. Tell me more about this Valko.”
You narrowed your eyes at his line of questioning.
“Why the sudden interest?” you shot back.
“Is it so wrong for your boyfriend to take interest in the people you spend time with?” he smoothly replied.
You huffed and crossed your arms.
“I met him while I was on a mission,” you started.
You proceeded to blab about his personality, the fact that his wolfy features made an appearance when he was excited, and how well you two seemed to get along from the start.
Sylus didn’t need to activate his Aether Core to see new desires forming within you. He knew you inside and out – and this Valko was a dead ringer for your type. With his upcoming business trip, the cogs began to turn.
This would be fun.
A huff is heard to your right as Valko crowded even more into your space. The bulky man waved and flashed a toothy grin at the screen.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he replied in an amused tone. Like they were both in on a joke that you weren’t privy to yet.
“You do know that I’m not actually a cat right?” you quipped at Sylus.
While poking Valko’s cheek, “But this man right here is a real werewolf,” you said in a sing-song voice. You absentmindedly scratched his ears then under his chin – just how he liked it.
It never failed to amuse you how Valko could not mask his enthusiasm when it came to you. The minute you let him into your apartment – his wolf ears and tail popped out like a party trick.
The smell of your contentment enveloped Valko like a warm blanket, and he could not stop his tail from wagging excitedly behind him. Making noticeable thwacking sounds on your couch.
Sylus chuckled darkly, observing you two interact in real time.
“It seems like you have an excited puppy on your hands. How ever will you calm him down?” he teasingly questioned.
A few hours later…
You could barely believe what tonight has devolved into.
If you weren’t so pleased to see Valko at your doorstep, you would have found the time of his arrival suspicious. He knocked on your door 10 minutes exactly before you and Sylus were scheduled to have a video call.
Since your boyfriend, Sylus, already knew about the time you’ve been spending with Valko – you thought it’d only be fair to introduce the two tonight.
It did seem a little odd how comfortable they seemed around each other, even through a screen. But you brushed it off because Sylus was always cool, calm and collected and Valko was a chairman of a thriving business after all.
But then, things took a turn when the carmine eyed man said, “Let’s make a deal.”
A blend of whimpers, growls, and lewd, wet, slurping sounds filled the room.
You were on your back, as a head of dark burgundy hair was all you could see between your legs. Despite how they twitched and attempted to close with each jolt of pleasure – his strong arms held you open with little effort as he feasted.
“She tastes good doesn’t she puppy?” Sylus crooned from the laptop that was placed at just the right angle to catch everything. From the hitches in your breath, to the ravenous pace Valko set. Sylus could not tear his eyes away from the enthralling sight.
You yelped as Valko growled while suckling your clit.
“She tastes amazing, you should smell how her scent blooms each time you speak,” he replied gruffly before going back to his feast.
Your boyfriend hummed. “Does my voice turn you on kitten? While your friend’s face is covered in your essence?”
You frantically nod your head as your attempts to squirm away from the onslaught of pleasure resulted in Valko holding you down harder.
“I think the pup is doing a good job, don’t you agree? Why don’t we…change things up, so everyone can get what they want?”
Valko reluctantly pulled away from your moist heat, facing the laptop with a questioning look on his face.
“What did you have in mind?”
You were struggling with so many things at once.
At Sylus’ instruction, Valko picked you up like you weighed nothing then sat down on the edge of your bed – directly facing the laptop.
You were perched on his lap, your back meeting his chest. With your legs spread over each of his toned thighs. Leaving you exposed to both Valko’s and Sylus’ lustful gazes.
The wolf wrapped a muscled arm around your waist, keeping you upright. Then used his other hand to rub his warm length against your core – gathering the slickness there.
The wolf’s marigold eyes flashed, and he let out a growl from feeling you against him.
“Worked up already sweetie?” Sylus’ voice broke through your lust induced haze.
“She’s practically dripping onto the sheets,” Valko offered behind you.
His minute thrusts against your slick seam pulled punched out moans from your throat.
“What do you want to happen kitten? We will go as far as you want to.”
“P- please inside of me. I can’t take it anymore,” you begged.
Valko whimpered at your request, waiting to hear Sylus’ response before making a move.
“Well?” the carmine eyed man uttered.
“You heard her, what are you waiting for?”
In what seemed like a millisecond, Valko was lifting you to notch his hot mushroom tip against your opening. With how turned on you were, he slipped in easily. The descent down his length was assisted by gravity and your willpower alone. Valko refused to slam into you and accidentally hurt the person he held most dear.
Once you reached the base, you bit your lip as your pussy involuntarily spasmed around the thick intrusion.
“F- fuck don’t do that,” Valko whined behind you. Gasping at the warm, silky embrace of your walls.
“I can’t help it,” you whined back.
“What a delectable sight,” Sylus said wistfully before his tone changed to something more commanding.
“We don’t have all night, move puppy.”
As if being activated by a code word, Valko cups the bottom of her inner thighs in his hands. With ease, he glided you up and down his length. With distinct squelching sounds produced on each pass.
You couldn’t hold back the moans from leaving your mouth.
“That’s what I like to hear. Keep it up puppy.”
Your boyfriend’s encouragement seemed to only add to the wolf’s enthusiasm.
You didn’t dare to dream of such an outcome from introducing Valko to your boyfriend. But to say this wasn’t fulfilling several fantasies of yours would be a lie. Everything about this has been sensual.
The fact that Valko also lifted you like you were weightless.
His repressed growls rumbling against your back.
And the paralyzing feeling of being so full of him each time he bottomed out was making your mind go silent.
The only thing you could focus on was feeling.
In and out.
Silk wrapped steel molding your walls around it.
Your body overheating.
The faint sound of Sylus unzipping his pants.
You were in trouble.
“Don’t forget our deal,” Sylus chimed in, sounding a little breathless.
“Neither of you are allowed to finish until I say so.”
This brutal reminder brought you both back to the present.
You weren’t sure if you were going to make it. Valko’s thick length felt like it was made for you he managed to find all your sensitive spots.
You keened as you felt his length begin to shift and change. Before long, there was a stiff knot tapping against her entrance with each downward pull.
“I-,” your attempt at a sentence cuts off with a garbled moan when Valko grips your hips and grinds you down in a circular motion. Making sure you felt it.
"You're that worked up wolf? I would think an alpha had more control than that,” Sylus breathily taunted as his hand wrapped around his length. Valko released something between a growl/whimper as he tried to hold off on coating your insides.
You felt so overwhelmed and you needed to focus on something.
“Kiss me, please?” you begged as he continued to grind you against his knot with increasing pressure. Valko doesn’t even bother answering before he leans over your shoulder and turns your face towards his.
Your lips slot against his like a connecting puzzle piece.
It’s the first kiss you’ve shared with Valko, so it starts off slow, exploratory. With him sliding his lips against yours until your tongue swipes against the seam of his lips. He lets you in and groans as your tongues curl against one another.
You both playfully fight for dominance; ending with you giggling at feeling him smile against your mouth.
Previously distracted by the kiss, Valko grips your hips once again then starts grinding you down onto his knot.
Before long, it feels like your hole is loosening up to let him in. Practically hanging a banner over your pussy titled “KNOT ME”.
“Are ready to take his knot tonight? Tell me,” Sylus smoothly asks, wanting to confirm that you are still doing okay.
“Yes, I want it so bad!” you keened as Valko redoubled his effort to ease you further and further down.
“Well wolf? You know what to do.”
You feel Valko nod enthusiastically behind you, his tail going wild behind him.
After a few more grinds back and forth, you feel the tip of it begin to sink in.
You let out a gasp at the intense sensation.
Valko mouths your shoulder at the intense feeling, shifting one of his hands down to your clit. Hoping to distract you from the pressure.
“You can do it kitten, you’re almost at the widest part,” Sylus encouraged from the laptop, a distinct shlick sound accompanying his words.
“Oh my god, oh my god, holy shit,” you exclaimed as Valko used your distracted state to fully seat himself inside of you.
Knot and all.
Your spine bows at the unique sensation. You have never been this full in your life and you marveled at the resilience of your body in this moment.
Both you and Valko were left panting, trying to catch your breath.
As you got used to the sensation, the fullness began to feel good, in a completely new way. When your wetness began to drip around him, Valko started to rub your clit once again. This sensation combined with the hot, throbbing knot lodged inside you was euphoric.
At the first involuntary spasm of your pussy Sylus says "Now." Your orgasm starts at your core, spreading up your torso then out to your extremities. Your pussy is so stretched open that you can’t even spasm properly around him. But your pleasure is all consuming, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your skull.
Seeing, smelling and feeling your pleasure pushes Valko right over the edge. Releasing warm, long spurts of cum into you. You were not prepared for the sheer volume. Already feeling it leak out of you, trailing down your still spread thighs.
Sylus spilled over his own hand at the sinful image you both made. His girlfriend, lost to the endless waves of pleasure. And behind her, a delightfully obedient puppy practically howling as he knotted his mate.
Sylus would have to be blind to miss how much you meant to the wolf already. He was just waiting for you both to catch on.
You felt Valko begin to reposition you both on your side, getting ready to go to bed. As you start to drift off you hear your boyfriend say, “That was delicious, make sure you're both rested up for when I return."
Valko’s jovial laughter was the last thing you heard before sleep fully embraced you.
Valko asks it all casually, clacking away at his laptop as you sit on the couch, one of your legs right next to his shoulder, brushing it a bit.
He tries his best not to sink his teeth into the plush of your thighs, eyeing it as his cock starts throbbing. He tries so hard not to snatch your phone up and throw it, demand your damn attention, sniff you.
It's especially hard not to sniff you when you smell so fucking sweet, ruining him every time he is alone with you - which is often, given the assignment you two were on together. That and you have become friends, which he doesn't wanna fuck up with the wolfish way he wants to claim you.
Bite you, mark you, make you his.
Breed you-
"It's just Caleb," his eyes narrow behind his glasses now, looking right at you. "What? He is in town."
"Uh huh... Caleb," he repeats- he knows his ass is obsessed with you. Who could blame him, really? But you should be paying attention to him right now.
Not Caleb!?
"Well, what's he saying?"
"He was asking to come to dinner and... ah! Did you just bite me!?" He growls before he can stop himself, his teeth sunk into your thigh. You suck in a breath, smacking at him. "You bratty dog!"
"I am not a dog," he grumbles, smirking at the glittery teeth marks on your skin. "Tell him you are busy."
You blush when he sets down the laptop, spreading your thighs and kneeling, his ears twitching as he looks up at you - your heart hammers in your chest.
"Oh. Should I?" You tease, breathless when he slides his hands up. Sharp nails press against your delicate skin.
Leaning forward, he is far too close, inhaling your skin, breath against your inner thigh, making your pussy drenched.
"Valko..."
"Tell him. Now, sweetheart," he murmurs, done with pretending.
He needs you.
He can smell your juices, see the darkening of your panties when his pretty eyes flicker to your cunt. Pushing your thighs further, you drop the phone.
"Ah-ah," he bites your other thigh. Your hands come to tug on his fluffy ears, making his tail twitch side to side. Cock leaking. "Tell him you're busy."
"Fuck, okay," your shaky hand picks up the phone, your eyes getting lidded when his nose brushes your pretty pussy over those panties, you suck in a breath at it, fingers faltering. "mngh..."
"Tell him," he says in a soft little hum, inhaling you again, palming his cock to adjust it, feeling it swelling with how badly he wants to devour you. "If you wanna cum, you will."
"Fuck you're a brat," you mumble as he tugs you closer, shoving your knee up over his shoulder, nose inhaling your cunt again. "Are you gonna just sniff me !?"
"Till you answer," he sighs. "I could do this and cum."
"Freaky wolf, ah!" He bites your inner thigh, your juices just slippin' down further, in rivulets against his face, his glasses fogged up with his breaths. "F-fine."
Sorry Caleb - I'm busy tonight.
You show him the screen, and he smirks, a curve of his lips.
"Good girl."
Fuck.
Valko tugs your panties aside, looking at the mess your cunt is and moaning at the sight, tongue hot as it laps you from your ass to your clit, then back down, not just tasting - he's fucking lavishing you, spit soaked tongue dragging through your folds. "V-Valko I..."
"Good, good, good... good girl you're s-so... good," he's gripping you bruisingly now, slurping your messy, needy hole, the juices just pouring - his adam's apple bobs as he gulps you down, his glasses just slightly askew from the way he's drinking you. "Taste s'good... fuck..."
He could almost cum from the taste alone, greedily dragging his tongue from your slutty, quivering hole to that twitchy clit, all while you're gripping his hair with one hand, the other rubbing his ears. It feels so good as he lets you coat his taste buds, watching your eyes roll back in your skull.
You shatter so fast, but he's not even trying to make you cum - he just needs your taste, he needs your scent, biting your clit before he can stop himself, the action having you squirt right down him, all over his sweater and his collar. He laughs softly as you whine out, arching your hips, thighs quivering.
"Please... in me, mngh..." You see his slick face and blush, the dark mess you made on his sweater apparent as he takes it off, standing, his cock leaking through his sweats.
You go to touch him but you don't get a moment, he's got you turned and bent over the living room table, that sweater of yours gripped in his huge hands, claws ruining the material without him meaning to. He spits right on your cunt just to make it even messier, it's so wet she doesn't even need it, laughing as you arch, thighs shaking.
The phone goes off.
Valko hums a bit, looking at the message.
"Aww... he misses his 'pips'. Cute," Valko laughs, lost now - he's not the goofy little jerk you're used to, not when he's lining his reddened tip with your hole - no, he's feral. "Should we show him how you're doin'? Hmm, sweetheart?"
"N-no, psycho," you're wetter at the idea, and he notices, rubbing his tip up and down your slit, torturing you as you arch, begging for more. "In me, in me... in - ah!"
Valko slides his veiny, thick cock deep, his tail wrapping around his body and tickling you as he groans, head falling forward, that heavy weight pressing you down. He's as big there as he is everywhere, his grin against your skin felt before he bites your neck, shoving in fully.
"S'deep... you're..."
You're a babbling mess when he pins you there, twitching inside you, cock dragging your sweet spot and kissing it over and over again. You're a drooling mess the more he moves, the more his cock rocks in and out, thickening and swelling impossibly.
"Should call him, huh baby? Let him hear your cunt he wants s'fuckin' bad," Valko can't stand it then, thinking of anyone with the girl that should be all his, every instinct on fire. "All mine, yeah baby? Breed your messy cunt till you're all mine, can't even talk, can you?"
"Mhm," you're shattering when he fucks you faster, meaner, a hand on the table bracing himself as he bites your neck till blood drips, lapping it up so his lips are crimson, moaning against your skin. "Valko... please..."
"I'll give it all to you," he's sinking his teeth again - marking you his, ones he hopes last and last, as his cock is soaked, and your tacky walls are milking him. "Fill you so full, won't be able to see anyone, will you?"
You shatter with one more drag of his fat tip, and that's when it pushes him over the edge, his knot swelling as his cum fills you to the brim, coating your walls in white. He's biting your shoulder, your neck, your arm, everywhere he can, as that fat knot stretches you, hurting so bad you're in tears - but fuck it feels good.
"So much... s'much, V-valko..." you whimper as he moves that knot, kissing all the places he's marked you, moaning softly. His tail twitches as it tickles your skin, his ears curving down.
"Perfect, f-fuck you're so... oh baby I don't think it'll go down I..." He's never had this happen, not being able to calm it down, locked and knotted so thick in your tiny cunt. He keeps kissing you, moving back a bit, hearing your little sharp breath. "Want me to keep this cum plugged inside you? Hmm, breed you, baby?"
"Yes, yes," you're drooling, looking at him with dilated eyes, all covered in his marks. "K-keep it all.. in ... your knot it's so..."
"Mhm, I know baby," he's soothing you even as he rocks it in just an inch - back and forth, until he's pressing all his cum right against your puffy lil cervix.
You're cummin' again and again, but what you don't realize is...
Valko left Caleb all of that on a voice message </3
Summary: in which you meet the LaD boys for the first time and they see passed your weight
Pairing: all the lads boys (separately) x (F) Reader (non-MC)
TW: body shaming/fatphobia, verbal insults, negative body image commentary, self-esteem issues, fluff, suggestive (Sylus), body positivity
a/n: I mean no disrespect, I only want to spead the love to all to the plus size girlies out there, because you are queens and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise! 👸💖
THE WEIGHT OF BEING SEEN
XAVIER (word count : 525)
You tighten your grip on the collar of your coat as the wind picks up. The evening is bitterly cold - the kind of cold that seeps through your skin and settles deep in your bones.
Pushing open the restaurant door, you're greeted by a wave of warmth and the comforting aroma of food.
The kitchen is an open space and several members of staff greet you by name as you make your way to a table. Thanks to its cozy atmosphere, delicious food, and friendly service, you've become a regular.
Despite the extensive menu, you barely glance at it anymore. You already know it by heart.
“Good evening.”
A young waiter approaches with a notepad and pen in hand. One you don't recognize.
He must be new.
“May I take your order?”
You begin listing the dishes, and the waiter writes each one down.
“That's quite a lot of food.” He remarks
You chuckle. “The cold always seems to work up an appetite.”
“Are you waiting for friends or family?” he asks.
You look at him in confusion.
“If you are, I'll let the kitchen know so we can time everything accordingly”, he explains. “That way the food won't get cold before they arrive.”
“No need,” you reply with an appreciative smile. “It's just me.”
The waiter's eyes widen.
“You mean you're planning to eat all of this yourself?”
His voice comes out much louder than intended.
The waiter clears his throat.
“I'll put the order through right away”, he mumbles before hurrying toward the kitchen.
...
A little while later, dish after dish begins arriving at your table until the entire surface is covered.
The waiter avoids eye contact as he sets down the plates
“Enjoy your meal,” he says quietly before retreating.
At a nearby table, a group of men downing beers have been watching you for several minutes.
“Talk about pigging out.”
“No wonder she's the size she is.”
“Disgusting.”
They're speaking just loudly enough for you to hear.
You stare down at the food spread across your table.
Your appetite disappears as a knot starts to form in your stomach.
“Hey. I didn't know you came here.” A familiar voice says.
You look up and find yourself staring into a pair of crystal-blue eyes.
Xavier.
A colleague from another department.
You don't see him often, but you've always thought he was cute.
He offers you a warm smile. “Are you here alone?”
You nod.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
You shake your head.
Xavier removes his coat and takes the seat opposite you.
Panic flickers through you as his gaze drifts across the crowded table.
You brace yourself for the same judgment.
Instead, Xavier raises a hand and calls over the waiter.
“I'd like to order everything she ordered,” Xavier says calmly. “And add an extra portion of meat to each dish.”
The waiter's eyes nearly pop out of his head.
You stare at Xavier in disbelief.
He simply smiles.
“I'm glad to know you're a foodie too.”
His tone is completely genuine.
No judgment.
No mockery.
“Let's eat before it gets cold.”
Smiling back, you pick up your chopsticks.
——————————————————————
ZAYNE (word count : 407)
Today's been a good day.
You feel satisfied. Accomplished.
So, you decide to treat yourself.
A small bell rings overhead as you push open the door to a bakery. The scent of freshly baked pastries fills the air, making your mouth water.
Making your way to the counter, you smile as you admire the selection of cakes, pastries, and cookies displayed neatly behind the glass.
“Hello. What can I get for you?” the waitress asks.
“I'm not sure,” you admit. “Everything looks delicious.”
She nods. “Want my opinion?”
“Yes, please,” you say brightly.
“Given your size, I think you should lay off the sugar.”
The words hit you like a slap.
You had expected recommendations. Perhaps the bakery's bestsellers.
Not an insult.
“Trust me, girl. I'm doing you a favor.” She shrugs. “Nobody likes an overweight woman.”
Your cheeks burn with humiliation.
“I'll just take a latte,” you mumble.
“Good choice.” She smiles, but there's nothing kind about it. “I'll hold the sugar.”
You turn away and retreat to the furthest table in the corner of the bakery.
A moment later, a cup is placed in front of you with a soft clink.
You don't look up or offer a thank you.
A single tear slips down your cheek.
Then you hear another sound.
A plate being set on the table.
An assortment of pastries now sits beside your coffee.
“I didn't order these,” you say.
The man standing in front of the table. He's handsome, dressed in a tailored suit, with dark hair and striking green eyes framed by glasses.
“I ordered them for you.”
Seeing your confusion, he continues.
“I was standing behind you in line. I heard what the waitress said.”
Your cheeks immediately flush again from embarrassment.
“Her comments were rude and completely unprofessional. No one should be telling others what they can or can't eat unless there's a legitimate medical reason.”
“Like being obese?” you mutter bitterly.
“As a doctor, I can assure you that you're neither overweight nor obese.”
“In fact,” he continues, “I'd say your curves are in all the right places.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and the tips of his ears turn pink.
This time, you find yourself blushing at the compliment.
“Thank you for the pastries,” you say with a smile. “Would you care to share them with me, Mr...?”
“Zayne.”
The man finally introduces himself before taking the seat opposite you.
——————————————————————
RAFAYEL (word count : 420)
The sand is warm beneath your bare feet as you walk along the shoreline. The sun hangs high in the sky, waves crash peacefully against the rocks, and the ocean breeze is just right.
You bask in the warmth with a smile on your lips, grateful to finally have a day off.
Every now and then, you bend down when a flash of color or a glimmer catches your eye.
The small woven basket slung over your shoulder gradually fills with seashells.
Just as you crouch down to inspect another one, a long shadow falls over you, blocking out the sun.
“Do you have no sense of decency?!” An angry female voice sounds above you.
You rise to your feet.
Three women stand before you, each thinner than the last, their expressions twisted with disapproval.
“I'm sorry?” you ask, confused.
“Showing off like that,” one of them scoffs, gesturing toward your body.
You glance down and quickly check the straps of your bikini, wondering if something has come loose.
“Ever heard of a diet?” another woman sneers. “Who's supposed to look at all those rolls?”
And just like that, you understand.
Before you can think of a response, the women turn and walk away.
You hurriedly untie the sarong from your waist and wrap it around yourself instead.
Then a sudden gust of wind sweeps in from the ocean.
Your straw hat is lifted off your head.
You reach for it instinctively.
But someone else catches it first.
The man standing before you is breathtaking.
Waves of violet hair frame his face, and his eyes shimmer beneath the sunlight in shades of blue, pink, and purple.
He places the hat back on your head.
“Did you know that in Ancient Greece,” he begins casually, “the ideal female figure depicted in classical sculptures and paintings was often curvaceous? Rounded hips, and fuller figures were considered symbols of beauty.”
You blink.
The statement is so unexpected that you don't know how to respond.
He continues, “Don't let those women get to you. They're just jealous they don't have the body of a goddess.”
You stare at him.
“Trust me,” he says, “As the famous artist Rafayel, I know what I'm talking about.”
A brief silence follows.
Then he lifts an open sketchbook.
“Now,” he says, flashing you a dazzling smile, “would you mind taking the sarong off so I can finish my masterpiece?”
The open sketchbook page displays a half-finished drawing.
Of you.
Standing on the beach, collecting seashells beneath the sun.
——————————————————————
SYLUS (word count : 523 )
You approach the hostess stand.
“Hello. I have a reservation.”
The hostess confirms your name before leading you through the restaurant to a table for two.
Once you're seated, a waitress appears with a polite smile.
"”Can I get you something to drink?”
"”Just a glass of prosecco for now,” you reply. “I'm waiting for someone.”
The waitress nods and heads off.
Left alone, you glance around the elegant restaurant.
Soft music drifts through the air. Candlelight flickers across polished glass and silverware.
You reach for your phone and check the time.
A colleague had set you up on this blind date - a friend of a friend of a friend who just so happened to be single.
You had tried your best to refuse.
The idea of meeting a complete stranger made you uncomfortable.
But after enough persuasion, you'd reluctantly agreed.
And now, here you were.
You absentmindedly fiddle with the cutlery, trying to calm your nerves.
Minutes pass.
Your glass of prosecco is already half-empty when the waitress finally returns, escorting a man toward your table.
You immediately assume he's your date.
As he approaches, you rise to your feet and offer a polite smile.
Stepping out from behind your chair, you hesitate.
Should you shake his hand?
Offer a hug?
Perhaps a kiss on the cheek?
Before you can decide, the man speaks.
“I'm sorry. I can't do this.”
At first, you assume he's nervous.
Maybe blind dates aren't his thing.
But then he continues. “I have no interest in larger women.”
He places emphasis on the word larger.
Without a shred of shame, he turns and walks away.
Just like that.
You remain standing in the middle of the crowded restaurant.
You can feel the stares.
Hear the whispers.
Slowly, you sink back down into your chair.
Honestly, being stood up would have hurt less.
Even a last-minute cancellation would have been kinder than being publicly humiliated.
You pick up your glass and drain the remaining prosecco in a single gulp.
The moment you set it down, the chair opposite you is suddenly occupied.
You hadn't even noticed anyone approaching.
Despite his white hair, the man appears young - late twenties, perhaps.
His features are sharp and striking.
Broad shoulders stretch beneath an impeccably tailored suit.
His physique looks as though it had been sculpted from marble.
For a moment, you're too stunned to do anything but stare.
A physique that looks as though it had been sculpted from marble.
Two crimson-red eyes regard you with quiet amusement.
For a brief moment, you could swear the right glows.
With a snap of his fingers, the waitress who had seated you immediately appears.
“Two glasses of your finest red wine,” the man says. “And one of everything on today's specials menu.”
His voice is deep and effortlessly commanding.
“Right away, Mr. Sylus.”
There is a noticeable hint of nervousness in her voice before she quickly disappears.
He leans back in his chair and studies you openly.
“That man was a fool,” Sylus says, a dangerous smirk tugging at his lips. “Passing up something as delicious as you should be considered a crime.”
——————————————————————
CALEB (word count : 484)
You step out of the crowded elevator and make your way across the hall, past reception, and finally into the late afternoon air.
The skyscraper that houses your office looms behind you as you join the rush-hour crowd spilling into the streets. The city is loud and alive - people everywhere, traffic stretched in endless lines on both sides.
You take a deep breath, shrugging your blazer off your shoulders as you walk.
You barely make it a few steps before you hear a sharp crack.
Your body lurches forward, but you quickly regain your balance.
Frowning, you glance down.
One of your heels has snapped clean in half.
You groan.
Balancing awkwardly on one foot, you try to remove the broken shoe without dropping your handbag or blazer, all while avoiding bumping into passersby.
People brush past you, casting glances in your direction.
You don’t expect help, but a little less staring wouldn’t hurt.
“That's what you get when an elephant wears stilettos. I feel sorry for the shoes,” a woman says loudly as she walks by with her friend.
The friend snicker.
Your gaze sharpens as it follows them.
With a frustrated sigh, you bend down again, only for a strong arm to slip around your waist from behind.
Turning your head slightly, you find yourself looking up at a man with violet eyes and an easy, almost lazy smile.
“Need a hand?” he asks. “You can use me for balance.”
After a brief hesitation, you accept, shifting so you can hold onto his arm.
You try very hard not to notice just how solid his forearm feels beneath your fingers.
With his support, you manage to slip off both heels.
Now barefoot in the middle of the busy street, you exhale.
You glance at the broken shoe in your hand.
Yeah. There’s no saving it.
“I don’t suppose you have a spare pair in your handbag?” the man jokes.
“Afraid not,” you sigh.
“Now what?” he asks.
“My car’s parked nearby,” you reply. “I’ll risk the walk.”
You don’t love the idea of walking barefoot on dirty, hot concrete, but you don’t exactly have options.
You offer him a small, polite smile.
“Thank you for your help. Have a nice day.”
Turning away, you barely manage to take one step before you're suddenly lifted off the ground.
You let out a startled sound.
“Where’s your car?” The man asks, adjusting you effortlessly in his arms.
“Please put me down,” you protest with a whine. “I’m heavy.”
“Not for me,” he replies simply.
You look up at him.
There’s no strain in his expression. No sign he’s struggling at all - as if you weigh nothing.
Your grip tightens slightly around him, seeking balance, his warmth seeping through you from where he carries you.
You point down the street, and he responds with a boyish grin, already striding forward.
Gordon, Brown, good. Your assistance will be required for the post-adoption welfare checks. Brown, your… exuberant personality may put the new owners at ease. Gordon, your access to GCPD databases will be necessary to cross-reference my findings with any potential red flags not visible in civilian records.”
Bruce watched, a cocktail of exasperation and reluctant pride simmering in his veins, as his son, the former Demon’s Head, efficiently mobilized his siblings into a canine and feline relocation task force. It was a military operation. His military operation.
“We have exactly forty-seven minutes until the first wave of new owners arrives for pick-up,” Damian announced, holding up a tablet that displayed a complex, color-coded schedule. “The vehicles are being staged at the secondary gate. Drake, the manifest.”
Tim, now holding a steaming mug of coffee that had mysteriously materialized in his hand—courtesy of a passing Alfred—scrolled through the data on his own device. “Okay. So you’ve got… twelve families from Gotham, five from Metropolis, three from Star City… and one from Happy Harbor? How did Jon even get word to Happy Harbor?”
“The Kents have a surprisingly robust network of allies in the agricultural community,” Damian said, as if that explained everything. He then pointed at Dick. “Grayson, you are on crowd control and child management. Your penchant for… performance… will prevent the younger children from becoming overly excited and startling the animals.”
Dick grinned, scooping up a wiggling terrier mix. “You got it, Little D. I’ll be the best darned doggy ambassador this side of the Mississippi.” The terrier licked his chin enthusiastically.
“Pennyworth,” Damian continued, turning to the unflappable butler. “The hydration and comfort stations are prepared?”
“Indeed, Master Damian. The lemonade and iced tea are chilled, and a rather significant quantity of biodegradable waste bags has been strategically deployed,” Alfred replied, a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he looked at Bruce. “It is, I must say, a rather impressive logistical feat.”
Bruce finally found his voice, cutting through the organized chaos. “Damian. A word.”
Damian turned, his posture perfect, his expression one of impatient efficiency. “Make it quick, Father. We are on a tight schedule.”
“The ‘secondary gate’? The ‘vehicles’? What vehicles?”
“The ones I requisitioned from Wayne Enterprises’ logistics division. I used your executive clearance. The memo should be in your inbox,” Damian said dismissively. “It was the most efficient way to transport the seventeen large-breed dogs that require special harnesses.”
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. The aspirins were fighting a valiant but losing battle. “You used my CEO access to commandeer company trucks for a… a dog rescue.”
“Correction: an ongoing, systemic solution to a societal failing. The trucks are merely a tool.” Damian’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you would prefer they continue to be used to transport weapon components for R&D? I can recall the purchase orders for that, as well, if you’d like.”
The headache reached a new, crescendoing peak. Bruce Wayne, the Batman, was being ethically outmaneuvered by his thirteen-year-old son. He held up a hand in surrender. “Just… make sure they’re cleaned and returned with a full tank of gas.”
“Obviously.” Damian turned his attention to a commotion near the door. Jason Todd had just walked in, frozen mid-step with one hand on the doorframe.
He took in the scene: Dick covered in puppies, Cass braiding the fur of a very patient sheepdog, Steph showing a delighted Duke how to hold a kitten, Tim muttering about transport logistics, and Barbara on her phone already running background checks.
His eyes finally landed on Bruce, slumped in his chair, and Damian, who was holding a clipboard and glaring at him.
“Huh,” Jason said, after a long moment. He lowered his helmet, which he’d been carrying under his arm. “So the zombie apocalypse started and it’s just… really cute. Did I die again? Is this the good place?”
“Todd. You’re late,” Damian snapped. “Your underworld contacts will be useful. I need you to identify and… dissuade… any individuals attempting to adopt for the purposes of dogfighting or other illicit activities.”
Jason blinked. Then a slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. He cracked his knuckles. “Oh, hell yeah. I can do that. I’ll be the adoption bouncer. Anyone looks sketchy, they get to have a chat with me and Mr. Crowbar here about the ethical treatment of animals.” He looked genuinely excited.
Bruce simply closed his eyes. He could hear the first car pulling up the long driveway, the excited squeal of a child from outside.
Alfred appeared at his shoulder, placing a fresh, cold glass of water and two more aspirin on the side table. “It would seem, sir,” Alfred murmured, his voice dry as ever, “that the Wayne family’s particular brand of… compassion… is highly contagious. And scalable.”
Bruce swallowed the pills without opening his eyes. The sound of barking, meowing, and his children working together in a rare, unified, and utterly ridiculous mission washed over him.
He lost the battle. But as he listened to Stephanie’s laughter and Jason’s surprisingly enthusiastic instructions on “proper scritches,” he wondered, for the first time that evening, if it was possible to win by surrendering completely.
“Alfred?” he said quietly.
“Yes, sir?”
“Remind me to buy a few thousand shares in a pet food company tomorrow.”
