often you will see things online where you just have to be like "what a strange thing to say" or "i don't think that's true :)" to yourself and try to move on or you will lose your mind
"It's okay," he slurs over and over as you roll against him. "S'okay. Gege's got you."
You're tangled around each other, skin to skin. With his arm wrapped around your shoulders and your leg draped over his waist, it's hardly possible to be closer.
That doesn't stop him trying.
The tips of his fingers brush over your cunt over and over as he palms your ass like he might be able to drag you tighter against him, aiding your rolling hips.
His hums sound like soothing answers to the desperate little sounds you make into his mouth. He's all-consuming, indulgent, relentless. The sloppy lazy cadence of it might put you to sleep if you weren't so desperate to feel him inside you.
He'd never been inside.
So when he slips his aching cock up against your exposed cunt and holds it there as you grind against each other, your heart practically beats out of your chest.
The hot length of him slips over your soppy cunt over and over as eager anticipation sends shivers through your whole body.
"S'okay," he slurs again as you tremble in his arms. "This is what it's made for, mm?" He rolls his hips in one long glide as he presses his hard length firmly against you, coating himself in your slick. "Made for this. Gege's cock was made for this pretty pussy." He bites your lip gently. "Gege is just for you."
Seemingly satisfied with your responding mewl, he applies a little more pressure to the underside of his tip as you continue rolling into him. Gently, in a way that almost seems accidental, he guides himself to dip inside your entrance as his hot breath tickles your lips.
You freeze.
"Just there," he breathes.
Then, he watches your face with rapt attention as he rolls his hips to meet youāsinking into your wet heat with a broken groan. There's a pause afterwards, a mutual indulgence in the delicious release of tension built over years and years as you clench rhythmically around him.
He's the first to break it.
His eyes stay locked on yours as he grips you firmly, fingers digging into soft skin, and tugs you onto his cock with each undulation of his hips. It's a sensual, languid claiming, following a kind of lazy cadence to mirror the way he'd kissed you.
But when you close the tiny space between your mouths and whisper "I love you" against his sodden lips, he whimpers. It's followed shortly after by a full body tremor.
It's different after that.
He wraps his arms tight around you, buries his face in your shoulder, and begins surging up into youārasping breaths tickling your skin as he gives himself over to long-repressed hunger.
my dream Ghibli job that would make my little withered soul happy would be to have a fragrance shop, so i made some for the lads based on nothing but vibes:
Caleb:
I think this is the most traditional profile here, top notes of leather, apple and green accord for a rich, fresh opening with a little sweetness form the apple, so you get this sort of masculine hit of leather without feeling like you're biting a carseat. Cedarwood, fig and pink pepper heart for a little spicy wood backbone that doesn't feel heavy and still carries a tender note from the fig that makes it not super spiced. And a musk, ozone and honey base to warm it up, but not enough to make it overtly sweet or gourmand, more like a lazy afternoon in a sunlit garden.
Xavier:
Top notes of linen, suede and milk accord, which i feel is maybe the weirdest on of these but i wanted a clean, comforting feel. Heart notes of sandalwood, lavender and tuberose for a floral creaminess but shored up by the stability of sandalwood, also tuberose tends to be a much more skin like scent over flower sweetness. The base is white musk ozone and amber for a masculine finish but still not loud, just warm and solid and dependable with a soft of edge form the ozone.
Sylus:
Opens with top notes of leather, pomegranate and elderflower for a dominant start but with a fresh tartness of pomegranate and elderflower, which to me always feels as a sort of cool winter scent. Heart notes are animal fur, sandalwood and whiskey for a stable solid middle but with an animalic hint that feels a little dangerous. The base is white musk, a metallic accord and silk to round it out into an intimate feel with an edge.
Zayne:
Top notes of wool, jasmine and winter accord for a cozy, wintery opening with the unmissable jasmine sweetness, like having him put his coat on your shoulders when it's too chilly outside. Cedarwood, orange blossom and pear in the heart for a subtle sweetness, backed by a solid, masculine wood note. Musk, leather and caramel round it up bringing a more traditionally masculine profile with a lovely caramel note to make it true to Zayne's sweet tooth.
Rafayel:
Ngl, Raf's was my favorite to make cause I'm a big fan on marine fragrances with surprising elements. Top notes are calypsone, coconut and iris, for an oceanic opening with sweet, creamy coconut and the elegance of iris that keeps it from crossing the line into sunblock. Heart notes are driftwood, vanilla and a marine accord, to keep a consistent profile but a little drier, like making it back to shore. The base is white musk, cashmere and salt, to close it up as sweet, intimate but with a memory of the ocean that stick to the skin.
Valko:
A bit of a shot in the dark but I wanted both the forest and the CEO versions of Valko in a scent. Top notes are leather, fir and iris, for a woodsy, evergreen open but with a very refined twist to it. The heart is campfire smoke, cotton and a green accord to keep with that foresty feel but warmer and cozier, like cuddling into him by the fire. The base is musk, animal fur an dark chocolate for a more animalic, wild finish with a hint of sweetness.
The scent of the apartment hit him before he even reached the door.
That was always how it worked. Valko would clear the front door, shift his bag on his shoulder, and without thinkingāwithout even meaning toāhis chest would expand, pulling in everything. The sharp bite of the laundry detergent you both used, the faint trace of the citrus dish soap from the morningās coffee mugs. The ghost of whatever you'd cooked that morning. And underneath all of it, quiet and constant and unbearably familiar, the warm specific sweetness of you.
Two years of this. Two years and it still stopped him on his tracks every single time.
To anyone who shared a class with him, Valko was the guy with half rimmed glasses, soft sweaters, neckband headphones around his collar like he'd forgotten they were there, a battered copy of whatever textbook he was working through dog eared on his desk. He took meticulous notes in handwriting that was almost too neat.
He called his mother every Sunday without fail, usually from the kitchen while something was already on the stove. He brought back containers of homemade food after weekend visits home and left them in the fridge with little labeled lids because he knew you'd forget to eat otherwise.
He was, by every reasonable measure, a gentle giant with a soft spot for his family and an embarrassing weakness for old equipment manuals.
The wolf underneath all of that was another matter entirely.
He'd stopped trying to logic his way out of it somewhere around month six of your lease. The obsession had settled into him quietly, the way water finds the shape of whatever holds itāgradual, total, and by the time he noticed, already everywhere. He loved the way you laughed when he miscalculated a doorframe carrying furniture. He loved that you used his arm like a headrest when you were tired without seeming to notice you were doing it. He loved that you trusted him with the small, unglamorous parts of your lifeāthe bad days, the grocery runs at midnight, the moments when you needed someone solid nearby without having to explain why.
He told himself it was just closeness. That it was natural, living with someone this long. That plenty of people felt this way about their roommates.
He was lying to himself and he knew it.
You never noticed the small things. That was the part that made it simultaneously easier and worse.
You didn't notice the way his jaw tightened every time you mentioned Caleb's name in passing. You didn't notice that when he draped his coat over your shoulders on cold nights, he always took a moment longer than necessary to settle it there, his hands resting briefly on your shoulders, his nose dipping almost imperceptibly toward your hair. You didn't notice the way his whole body oriented toward you when you moved through a room, like a plant turns toward a window without deciding to.
Two years of this and you'd noticed none of it.
Caleb, though. Caleb was a different kind of problem.
The name sat wrong in Valko's mouth every time he heard it. Your boyfriend. The pilot stationed out in Skyhaven, the one who'd existed in Valko's life as nothing more than a name and a reason you packed a bag every other weekend. You always went to him. A wave from the doorway, a small oveƱnight bag, the shuttle to Skyhaven. Back by Sunday night, sometimes Monday morning if the transit ran slow.
Two years, and Valko had never once seen him. Fine. He could work with that.
What he couldn't work with was the scent. Or rather, the complete absence of it.
It defied every instinct he had. A man who kept a womanāwho spent weekends with her, who held her hand and her bodyāshould leave something behind. It was a biological fact, not a sentiment. Every time you came home from Skyhaven, Valko would brace for it. Would stand in the hallway with his teeth ground together preparing to smell another man all over you.
Every single time, there was nothing.
Just you. Clean and warm, like you'd spent the weekend alone in a hotel and not with someone who was supposed to love you. No territorial overlap. No claim. Nothing.
It didn't reassure him. It made him furious. A man who loved you would mark you without even tryingāit would just happen, the natural consequence of closeness and time. The fact that it hadn't happened said something.
He doesn't know what he has.
Since Caleb clearly wasn't going to handle it, Valko had decidedā without discussing it with anyone, including himselfāto handle it instead.
It had started small. Sitting on your side of the couch when you were out because "the lamp was better over there". Leaning in your doorframe a beat longer than necessary. Gradually, the apartment had become his in ways that only his own nose could confirm. Your throw blanket carried him now. The pillow on the left side of your bedāyour sideācarried him. He'd lie across your mattress on the afternoons you were in seminar, shoulders rolling slow against the sheets, transferring the scent from the back of his neck and the inside of his wrists onto everything you'd touch when you slept.
He wanted to be the reason the room felt safe to you, even if you'd never know why.
The laundry had come later. He'd started folding yours without being asked because it was a practical thing to do, a completely normal roommate thingāand if his hands slowed over certain items, if he stood in the laundry room for longer than strictly necessary with warm shirts pressed to his face, that was between him and the four walls.
He wasn't proud of the drawer.
Your scent there was undiluted, something the rest of the apartment couldn't matchāprivate, concentrated, intimate. The first time he'd opened it he'd been looking for your spare key. He'd stood there for a long time, glasses pushed up into his hair, one hand braced on your dresser, taking slow careful breaths and trying to remember what reasonable behavior felt like.
He'd gone back to his room. He'd thought about you.
He'd told himself it would clear his head.
It had not cleared his head.
Two days ago he stood in front of your closet with his heart going faster than he wanted to admit.
You'd been out getting groceries. His hand moved through your dirty clothes on autopilot, past the jeans, past the sweaters, until his fingers closed around silk.
Soft. Warm from being buried against other fabric. Almost nothing against the width of his palm.
He lifted them to his face before he'd fully decided to.
There was your scent, the core of it. He stood there breathing it in with his eyes closed and his chest heaving, and then, he searched. Every thread. Looking for any trace of another man underneath yours.
Nothing. Just you. Entirely unmarked you.
The growl that came out of him was low enough that only he could hear it.
Something about that absence sent a rush of heat down his spine that he wasn't prepared for. His back had found the closet wall.
He couldn't stop himself.
One hand kept the silk pressed to his face. The other worked fast around his cock, his jaw tight, breathing controlled through sheer habit. He'd imagined you beneath him, his weight pinning you into the mattress, his teeth finding the curve of your shoulder, his scent finally, permanently replacing the nothing that Caleb had left behind. When he came it was blinding and quiet, his head dropping back, his whole body shaking with the force of it.
He'd cleaned up carefully. Returned everything. Walked to the kitchen and put the kettle on like a normal person.
He was a patient man. He was methodical. He had excellent grades and he called his mother on Sundays and he was going to wait for the right moment. But the conclusion had already been reached, somewhere in the back of his skull where logic and instinct lived side by side.
He was going to take you. It was a matter of time. He was just waiting for the right moment to show you that a real man didn't leave his woman smelling like an empty room.
--------------------------
The July heat was suffocating. Valko had been inside an exam room for two hours and his brain felt wrung out like a dish cloth. His glasses had fogged twice on the walk from campus, he was looking forward to the AC. He was looking forward to you.
It was a Friday so he'd stopped at the bakery on the corner. Two cinnamon rolls, extra cream cheese frosting. He had them in a plastic bag hooked over two fingers.
He reached the door and stopped. His nose twitched.
The scent of the hallway was wrong. Not dangerous, just wrong.
Valko's brow creased. He put his glasses back on.
He unlocked the door slowly, the click of the mechanism very loud in the quiet hallway, and pushed it open.
The air inside hit him all at once.
He stopped moving. His hand stayed on the doorknob, grip tightening by degrees until the metal pressed hard into his palm, and he stood in the entryway and looked at his living room like a man trying to solve a problem he hadn't been told existed.
There was someone on the couch.
Long legs stretched toward the coffee table. Dark tactical jacket, sleeves pushed up, the kind of build that came from actual use rather than a gym.
And tucked against his side, head on his chest, hand flat against his collarboneā
You. Laughing at something he'd just said.
Caleb.
Valko's mind was still trying to catch up. His instincts weren't waiting.
The heat that moved through him was immediate, flooding from his chest out, his vision sharpening at the edges the way it did when something in him decided a situation required full attention. His breathing stayed controlledābarely, through discipline and nothing elseāwhile every animal thing in him was screaming to move forward. To put himself between you and the man currently comfortable in a space he had no right to be comfortable in.
My couch. The thought was irrational and he knew it and it didn't help. My apartment. Myā
As if feeling the shift in the room, Caleb's head turned.
His eyes found Valko's across the space with a directness that said he'd known someone was there before the door finished opening. Dark eyes, calm, taking in Valko's full height and the white knuckled grip on the doorframe.
He didn't look away.
Neither did Valko.
You sat up, something lighting in your face when you saw him. "You're home early." You smiled, easy and warm, completely unaware of the temperature of the room. "Valko, this is my boyfriend Caleb. Caleb, this is my roommate, Valko."
Caleb stood up and extended his hand. He was tallānearly matching Valkoās heightābut where Valko was built like an immovable wall of muscle, Caleb possessed the lethal, agile grace of a feline.
Valko crossed the room and took it.
"Good to meet you," Caleb said. Flat. Even.
And the bottom dropped out of everything he thought he understood.
The scent hit him the second their palms connected, not foreign, not the aggressive territorial brand of another man he'd been grinding his teeth against for two years. It was youāyour exact scent, the one Valko had spent two years cataloguing down to its smallest noteābut run through something else entirely. Deeper. Heavier. Amplified through the biology of a dominant male until it had become its own thing, something that pressed into Valko's lungs like a hand against his sternum and didn't let up.
Caleb smelled like you the way a home smelled like the people who lived in it.
Two people did not share the same biological signature. That was not how any of this worked. Unlessā
His brain didn't finish the thought. His body had already moved on without him.
The heat he felt all over his body was not aggression. That was the part that made no sense, the part that his wolf had no framework for because this wasn't a territorial response. This wasn't the hot, focused anger he'd been bracing for every time he imagined finally meeting the man who had you. This was something strange and considerably more humiliating, a frequency he hadn't known he could receive, vibrating straight through the bones of his hand where Caleb's grip still held.
His cock hardened so fast his vision went momentarily white at the edges.
He couldn't stop it. Couldn't reason with it. Two years of wanting you, of your scent living in the back of his throat like something he'd swallowed and never fully digestedāand now here was this man, wearing you like a second skin, your sweetness wound so completely through his scent that Valko couldn't separate the two. Couldn't find where you ended and Caleb began.
It was the most overwhelming thing he had ever experienced. His knees felt weak.
Caleb's grip tightened.
His eyes hadn't moved from Valko's face. Valko watched the shift happenāthe smile staying but changing underneath, becoming something quieter and darker. He'd clocked the pupil dilation. He'd clocked all of it.
"Something wrong?" Caleb asked
Valko could not breathe. The apartment was saturated with your/his scent and his body was making decisions he hadn't authorized, and he was going to do something catastrophic if he stayed in this room for another ten seconds. He didn't know what but he didn't want to find out.
He pulled his hand back.
"I forgotā" His voice came out completely unrecognizable. He didn't look at you. Couldn't. "The lab. I left something. I have toā"
He was already at the door. He had no memory of crossing the room.
The hallway air hit him cold and he kept walking, down the stairs, out into the July heat that suddenly felt like nothing compared to what he'd just left behind.
caleb who hates seeing you in pain but also absolutely loving taking care of you when youāre on your period.
he loves how dependent you become on him, always asking him for food or tea or just for him to be your personal heater.
he massages your stomach without asking, eyes locked onto your face. heās only focused on you as he makes sure heās not being too rough and heās happy when he hears you let out a content sigh.
you barely feel like doing anything yourself and heās more than happy to do everything for you.
youāre snuggled up against him in bed with your eyes closed as he strokes your side softly.
you feel him shuffle a bit before he begins to get up and you let out a whine in disapproval.
āaww, my poor widdle apple doesnāt want her caleb to get up?ā he teases.
you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment but you shake your head anyways.
he coos at your shyness, completely enamored with how youāre clinging to him. he kisses your forehead softly and wraps his arms around you even tighter.
ādonāt worry, pretty girl. your caleb will stay riiight here next to you. always.ā
absolutely @spicyxdumpling !! i tried to give them different trends i've seen, but i don't get a lot of pranks on tiktok so idk if these all technically count as pranks š
Caleb (you walk by with a ladder)
You think you know how this is gonna go, because Caleb is Caleb and you're so used to him taking care of you. So you double check the angle of the phone, you hoist the ladder onto your shoulder, a tool bag over the other, and you stomp past Caleb as he's gaming on the couch. You expect to hear him call after you, to hear his footsteps loud behind you, but all you get is a beat of silence. You give it a minute, but it starts to feel silly just standing there, waiting, so you actually steady the ladder against the house and try to hang the wind chime Caleb's been promising to put out and hasn't.
It takes you stretching on your tippytoes on the second to last rung, one arm outstretched to reach the hook to feel the sudden weightlessness of your boyfriend's evol, his voice sudden and loud, crossing the garden to meet you.
"Are you trying to fall from there?"
You laugh, but let him carry you back into the house over his shoulder. And it takes checking your phone to see him stand from the couch the second you were out of frame. He winks at the camera, standing on the doorway and looking at you with the softest look in his eyes for a couple minutes, right up to the moment when he scrambles after you.
Rafayel (bf's face before vs after seeing you)
It's not a secret that Raf's handsome. The kind of handsome that looks untouchable, to be admired from a reverent distance, like one of his paintings. And it doesn't help that his face acts as the perfect subtitles for his mood. You can tell from across the room when he's annoyed with waiting in line, or when a store starts getting too crowded for him. With time you've even gotten familiar enough to see right through the smile he wears around the potential buyers Thomas insists on introducing him to. He can look perfectly pleasant, but empty in the way statues are.
He denies it, though, looked at you like you'd just mistaken an eel for a squid and assured you that he has perfect control of his expressions. So you started recording him whenever you noticed a sour expression on his face, immortalizing every minute scrunch of his nose and furrow of his brow. Which inevitably became a video journal of the way his face changed when he noticed you.
The first time you thought it was simply excitement because you're rescuing him from work he doesn't want to do. But the trend holds, every time he realizes you have your eyes on him, his eyes sparkle. Rafayel doesn't always grin immediately, sometimes he just gives you a little lopsided smile, or a flirty look, but he shines. And of course you edit the clips together because this is officially the achievement of your life. Then you show it to Rafayel, glad for once that you're not recording it, cause his expression turns into a mix of tenderness and pride that you want to be the only witness to.
Zayne (you call him by his name instead of a nickname)
You almost feel bad the moment the thought crosses your mind, it's been months since he's been Zaynie to you, 'honey' when he does something specially cute, 'babe' when you're still half awake in the morning. On the other hand, a part of you isnāt completely convinced heās noticed. The change is obvious to you because it comes from you. Youāre not sure itās important to Zayne what name you call him by. You go for it, in the end, not for the camera, just for you; one night when youāre both making it home at an ungodly hour, eating take out together, tired in the boneless way of a job well done.
āWe need a better sleep schedule, Dr. Zayneā
Itās an offhand comment, with laughter in your voice, but Zayne meets it with a second of silence, carrying the containers to the trash with measured movements before he turns to give you his full attention.
āDid I do something?ā and then, āDid you do something?ā
āNo? Whyā?ā
āYou only call me Dr. Zayne when youāre upset or when youāre trying to butter me up.ā
Something between his serious expression and the fact that heās completely right cracks you up into a fit of giggles, which also serves to melt the tension from his shoulders. He chuckles with you, letting you wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle into his sweater.
āIs Zaynie better?ā
Zayne hums, sways you a little deliriously in the middle of the kitchen.
āMy Zaynieā you mutter, like heās the only thing that exists in your mind right now, because he is.
āNow youāre really trying to butter me up.ā
Sylus (sending him a spicy pic when heās doing something else nearby)
Sylus is unmissable, first because you know him in your bones by now, the balance of his body and the way he moves; the signature scent that follows him, half smoke and gun oil, half niche fragrance. But most relevantly for this exact moment, because he towers over most of the people in line for the lemon tea he offered himself to get for you. And itās not that youāre annoyed that he volunteered himself in order to keep you away from the muscle men that run the stand (maybe a bit), itās just that youāre bored and doomscrolling as you wait and the perfect way to get back at Sylus just happens to land on your feed.
Youād taken the picture almost a week before, originally to send it, but then you chickened out. The lingerie Sylus had so insistently paid for felt a little too real on you, you kept obsessing over how it looked on your body. You felt cute, but was it sexy enough? Sylusā always enjoyed whatās under your clothes, itās just that you chose this especially for him so the stakes feel huge. So this feels easier, cause if the picture isnāt sexy enough you can just claim it as a joke and try again with better lighting and a pose tutorial.
You hit send, anxiously tapping a rhythm over the back of your phone. And you watch the mighty boss of Onychinus as he looks down, before immediately going still in that preternatural way of his. His head doesnāt whip around, nothing quite as dramatic, but he scans the crowd until red eyes find yours. You can see the glow from across the plaza, can understand instinctively that what hides behind the studied nonchalance is desire, a dark, territorial something that makes Sylus abandon the tea completely.
"You're playing a dangerous game, kitten." his presence is everywhere, all at once, folding over you so he can whisper in your ear, not touching you, not yet. "Is that what you're wearing today?"
"Maybe?" You grab onto his shoulders, your legs feeling like liquid, and you know what he's about to say as he slots his long fingers between yours.
"We should go home so I can find the differences then, shouldn't we?"
Xavier (you pretend to be a server to surprise him)
The mission drags on forever, not even in a dangerous way that would at least keep your brain occupied, Simone and you just get caught up in the clean up and the admin work and those dreadful things Xavier takes care off in half the time through charm alone. But your boyfriend was needed elsewhere and you had to cope with dragging yourself home on your own, dead tired since you managed to finish an entire night before expected.
The hope to surprise him kept you going, though, even if heās not at home when you finally arrive. You have a good idea where he might be and, indeed, you can see his sleepy head near the back as soon as you peek into his favorite hotpot place by the train station.
āYouāre here!ā The hostess stage whispers the moment she recognizes you, āXavier said you were working, with the most dejected face Iāve ever seen.ā
āI rushed back,ā you giggle back, your heart so full with love for Xavier that it feels huge in your chest. āHey, could I bother you with a favor?ā
Waiting tables is not your strongest skills and you would die of embarrassment if you ruin this by being clumsy, so you move slow and steady until youāre at your boyfriendās elbow with an extra plate and toppings. Xavier turns when you set them gently beside him, and for a millisecond, he just stares at you. Something flickers in his expression, like heās mildly startled, and then his eyes soften with longing that seems as old as time itself.
āHi, bun,ā you can barely get the words out, met with how much he loves you. āIs this seat taken?ā
Xavier doesnāt jump up to hug you, because itās not in his nature to do these things so publicly, but he grabs your hand and nuzzles your wrist, breathing you in.
āYou found me.ā
āAlways, bun.ā
Valko (you ask him to hold something for you and give him your hand)
āBabe, can I ask you a favor?ā
Valko hesitates, not because he wouldnāt do literally anything for you, but last time you asked him for a favor, he found himself unscrewing a jar of jam in the middle of a shower. So he doesnāt know what youāre about to ask, which means he doesnāt know if heās gonna need tools for this job or something.
āCan you hold something for me?ā
Oh, ok. He wonāt have to go hunting for a special screwdriver for those obscure screws jewelers put on things and he wonāt have to get up from the couch āand the chocolate milk heās just poured.
āSure.ā
Valko holds out his hand as you pad close, sweet and soft in sleep shorts and one of his sweaters. He expects the weight of something small to hit his palm, but you use him to steady yourself, climbing onto the sofa next to him, leaving your hand in his and interlacing your fingers. Your grin goes huge at the confusion plain on his face, so the implication clicks and he feels the familiar impulse to squeeze you in his arms until you complain you canāt breathe.
He does and you let him, laughing loud when he rests his whole weight on you, pressing you into the soft cushions and peppering your entire face with chocolate tasting kisses.
idk if this is of use to anyone but valko is not a cognizant being that can feel bad about this, like if they release him or not itās not because you didnāt fight for him or didnāt show him enough love
if i can be a little mean for a second, nothing gets me more heated than ācaleb girlsā that spend their time going āheās gonna lose his memories soon, weāre close to him losing his memoriesā istg i spend my life like this on tiktok my god
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