☆Hi! On here you can call me Star or Starly (it's actually the name of my OC but wtv i don't have another idea rn)
☆❗️BEWARE I repost/like nsfw posts (so preferably mdni❗️)
☆I'll manly post about LADS since I downloaded the app for the fanfics about that in the first place, but i'll also write about/reblog about my other interests.
☆About me:
.Favorite color ~ Purple💜
.Age ~ 18
.Favorite shape/symbol ~ Stars✨️⭐️💫
.Height ~ 5'8 / 1m74
.LaDs main ~ Xavier ofc 💜⭐️
.Hobbies ~ Crochet * Video games *Singing* Design
.Favorite seasons ~ Fall * Spring
.Major ~ English
.Favorite smell ~ Anything light, flowery or slightly powdery
.Zodiac ~ Sagittarius ♐️
.Nationality ~ French * Carribean
.Fun facts ~ My real name signifies grace/elegance and I have emetophobia 🧍🏾♀️
☆Here are some of my interests (really unorganised after all I dabble in everything)
.LaDs (duh)
.Anime/Cartoons (Trigun series <3, Sk8 the infinity, Castelvania, Panty and stocking, Soul Eater, JJK, Howl's Moving Castle, Link Click, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Knights of Guiniver, TADC, The summer Hikaru died)
.Games (Resident evil, Danganronpa series, Fran Bow, Sally face, FNAF, Minecraft, Animal crossing, Infinity nikki, A Date with death, Date Everything, DDLC, Burning The Midnight Oil, Eldarya, Omori) ect. I defenitly forgot some
.Youtube roster (Berleezy, Coryxkenshin, Crackhead Chronicles, Deb Smikle, Benoftheweek, Trixie and Katya, Ike eveland, Legends of Avantris, Brittany broski, Kubz scouts, Markiplier, Wankil, LABY, Macdoesit, Luch, Clarence Angelo, Nafarnia, Kennie JD, Quenlin Blackwell, LARRAY, Ian Fujimoto)
☆I would also put music but my recs are all ovet the place so i'll just put my playlists/Spotify account:👀
☆Playlist
☆Account
☆YouTube channel
Hiiii :3
This is huge for Star✨️
but it's also pretty big for milkyway
(I mostly post unedited visual novel gameplays)
This was super fun to make but I may have yapped to long oups.😩
Everyone's welcome to ask me any question under here or in my ask.
(Also, bigots of all types are not welcome here, don't even bother interacting, you'll just get blocked) 😽
The funniest part about arguing with Zayne is that it doesn't matter how small or severe, how significant or insignificant the argument was - you're not leaving each other's space once it's over.
You know, the type of over where nothing is settled, no apologies have been given, and you're both stewing in your anger and processing everything that had been said?
The part where most couples would typically take the time to separate from each other to avoid more conflict and clear their head? Or maybe just to get a little bit of space from the other? Yeah, no.
Not you and Zayne.
You're brooding on one end of the couch while he broods on the other. He's typing on his laptop while you watch a movie. Maybe if it's a bigger argument you two might be whispering under your breaths, egging each other on. Yet, neither is getting up to get away.
Eventually one of you caves, an apology is started, and the whole topic is talked over and talked out. But still, it's just so funny how that works, isn't it? Even when you're upset with each other, you can't seem to bear the idea of spending time apart.
you've known this for a while, but it's never been more apparent than right now, with him sprawled on his bed, that infuriatingly cocky smirk plastered across his stupidly handsome face.
"come on," he says, voice dripping with condescension as he leans back against the headboard. "you really think you could take control? during a makeout?"
he laughs like the idea is absurd. "pips, you're way too soft for that. too sweet."
his eyes gleam with challenge, that teasing glint that's always gotten under your skin. he's so sure of himself, so convinced that he's the one who calls the shots. always has been. the way he towers over you, the way he pins you down, the way he makes you whimper his name. he thinks that's just how it is. how it'll always be.
"i dare you," he continues, leaning forward now, close enough that you can smell his cologne. "try to control me. i bet you couldn't even if you wanted to."
something snaps inside you.
"bet," you say simply.
his smirk widens. "yeah?"
"yeah."
before he can say anything else, you're on him. your lips crash against his, and for a moment, he responds eagerly, his hands coming up to grip your waist like he always does. but then you bite his lower lip.. hard enough to make him gasp and you pull back just slightly, your hand sliding up to grip his jaw.
"ground rules," you murmur against his mouth. "you don't touch me unless i say so. you don't cum unless i let you. and you definitely don't talk back. got it?"
his eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across his features before that cocky mask slides back into place. "sure, whatever you say."
"good boy," you purr, and you feel him shudder beneath you.
♡ -
thirty minutes later, caleb is absolutely falling apart.
his cock is an angry, desperate red in your hand, the tip leaking steadily as you pump him with slow, deliberate strokes. your fresh manicure, pretty pink nails that you'd gotten done just yesterday it looks absolutely sinful wrapped around his length, and you can't help but admire the view as you work him over.
"please," he gasps, his voice cracking. "please, i can't- fuck, i need..”
"shh," you coo, tightening your grip at the base of his cock, holding him firmly as you lean down and drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft. slowly. agonisinglyy slowly. from base to tip, savoring the way he jerks and writhes beneath you.
"oh god," he moans, his hands fisting in the sheets. you'd told him not to touch you, and to his praise, he's obeyed. but it's clearly killing him. his knuckles are white, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.
you've been at this for half an hour now, and you haven't let him cum once. every time he gets closeand you can tell, from the way his breathing hitches, the way his thighs tense, the way his cock pulses in your hand. you stop and squeeze the base firmly, denying him that release, and then you start all over again.
his cock is so sensitive now, so irritated from your relentless teasing, that even the lightest touch makes him gasp. the head is flushed dark, almost purple, and there's a steady stream of precum leaking from the tip that you lap up with kitten licks, humming appreciatively at the taste.
"you're so mean," he whimpers, and there are actual tears gathering in his eyes now. "please, please let me cum. i'll do anything. anything."
you pull back, releasing his cock entirely, and he lets out a desperate, broken sound that goes straight between your legs. his hips buck up uselessly, seeking friction that isn't there, and you can't help but smile.
"anything?" you ask, tilting your head. "that's a big promise, caleb."
"i mean it," he sobs. "please. i need it so bad. it hurts."
you lean down again, your breath ghosting over his sensitive flesh, and he jerks violently, a strangled moan tearing from his throat. you haven't even touched him yet, and he's already losing it.
"remember what you said earlier?" you murmur, pressing a feather-light kiss to the tip of his cock. he shudders, his whole body going tense. "about how i was too pussy to control you?"
another kiss, this one to the side of his shaft. his legs are shaking now, trembling uncontrollably.
"i- i didn't- fuck, please-“
you pull back, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes, your lips forming a perfect pout. "am i still too pussy to control you, caleb?"
the tears spill over then, tracking down his flushed cheeks as he shakes his head frantically. "no. no, you're not. you're.. god, you're so good at this. so good. please."
his voice breaks on the last word, and you feel a surge of satisfaction so intense it's almost dizzying. this is caleb cocky, arrogant, always-in-control caleb. reduced to a sobbing, begging mess beneath you. all because of you.
you decide to have mercy on him. just a little.
"do you want it?" you ask softly, your hand hovering just above his cock. "do you want to cum, pipsqueak?”
"yes!" the word bursts out of him like a prayer. "yes, yes, yes, please. please let me cum. i need it. i need you. please."
he's sobbing openly now, his chest heaving with desperate breaths, and every time you so much as move your hand closer, his body jerks involuntarily. he's so wound up, so desperate, that you know it won't take much.
"okay," you whisper, and before he can process the word, you're on him.
your mouth engulfs his cock, taking him deep, and the sound he makes is so sweet it’s almost inhuman. your tongue works along his length as you bob your head, sucking hard, and his hips buck up involuntarily, driving himself deeper into your throat. you let him, relaxing your jaw, taking everything he has to give.
"oh fuck, oh fuck, oh-" his words dissolve into incoherent moans as you increase your pace, your hand pumping what your mouth can't reach. his legs jerk up, his thighs clamping around your head, and you know he's right there, right on the edge-
you pull back.
not completely, just enough that your lips are barely brushing the tip of his cock, and that's all it takes. caleb lets out a broken, desperate groan as he loses control completely, his cock pulsing as he cums hard, thick ropes of white painting his chest and stomach. it goes on and on, his whole body convulsing with the force of his orgasm, and you watch with satisfaction as he falls apart.
when he finally stops, he collapses back against the bed, his chest heaving, his eyes glazed and unfocused. there are still tear tracks on his cheeks, and his cock gives one last weak twitch before going soft.
you crawl up his body, careful not to smear the mess on his chest, and lean down to whisper in his ear.
"what a loser."
he lets out a weak, breathless laugh, and you grin, pressing a kiss to his temple.
You had just entered Valko’s research lab, hoping to possibly catch him for a little lunch break together.
As the door slid shut behind you, you paused to look around. Your eyes were pulled by the various beeping and blinking of the advanced tech surrounding you, but there was no sign of the redhead anywhere.
“Valko?!” You called out, to no response. Stepping deeper into the facility, you reminded yourself that he had granted you unrestricted access to his equipment, space, and personnel; You figured he certainly wouldn't mind you making yourself at home while you waited.
Then, a gleam in the corner of your eye drew your attention. You turned to look at it, only to find Valko’s nightprowl suit, all pristine and shiny, displayed in a sleek glass case. A devious idea popped into your head. I meannn, he did say you could use anything you wanted.
So there you were, drowning in the enormous jacket. You had initially intended to try on the whole suit, but the boots alone proved to be absurdly heavy, tiring your feet after just a few steps. Realizing the rest of the gear would be just as exhausting, you settled for just the overcoat, the one that spanned Valko's entire length, complete with the hood and ear slots.
You had to admit, though, that it was insanely comfy. The hem of it, which almost hit Valko's feet when he wore it, was now pooling at the floor, acting as a makeshift mop as you walked around the lab. The hood, meanwhile, completely covered your head, and in fact half your face too, the ear pockets flopping around without the usual support Valko’s ears provided.
You told yourself you'd put it back before he came, but the plush warmth draping over your shoulders made it too easy to delay, until the man himself finally came back into his office.
Uh oh. You sheepishly turned around to the sound of a door clicking shut, finding Valko standing there with his head tilted and a brow cocked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in amusement. Yet, when he caught the full view of you when you turned around, his breath hitched and his eyes darkened imperceptibly. He noticed how small and vulnerable you looked enveloped in his gear, your face caught in a guilty expression with those droopy, puppy-like ears adorning your head.
Obviously, Valko was a werewolf. And he was well aware that this came with certain... wolfish instincts. Yet right now, how intensely territorial he felt towards you surprised even himself, and it took him all his will to not immediately pin your small body up against a wall and shove his dick in you all the way till you were filled with him.
“Valko– I need a break- hic,” you whimpered breathily, your voice utterly tired from the hours he’d spent dutifully worshipping you and your practically abused hole.
“I know love, just a little bit longer. You’ll hold out for me, won't you?” he cooed. But contrasting with his gentle voice, his pace didn't seem to falter in the slightest. His pupils were blown out to the point where no iris was shown, looking at you draped over one of his desks, entirely naked, the heavy jacket long since discarded on the floor.
You twitched under his tight grip, stupidly big hands enough to wrap around your waist entirely. You initially already had a hard time adjusting to his cock, taking a long time of him just eating you out before you could even begin to handle it. But what made it worse later on was his goddamn knot.
Every ounce of restraint vanished from him, making you endure round after round of him filling you with his seed, his knot keeping everything inside you. Yet, after a point, even that didn't stop his cum from leaking out. The deranged man almost lost his mind when he saw that, shoving everything back with his dick and fingers, hellbent on breeding you till your womb practically inflated from all that was pumped into you.
And oh did he love to see it, “ngh- Just so adorable for me aren't you pup,” he said, more to himself than you, shoving his thumb in your mouth, moaning as you immediately sucked on it. “Such a good girl. You’ll let me cum in you again yeah?”
“W-wait, no more,” you barely managed out. All the pressure inside your cunt was making you dizzy, and you would be kidding yourself if you said you could take any more, but Valko obviously had other plans.
He moved his hands to let one rub on your clit, while the other, cruelly nonetheless, pushed onto where your belly bulged out. The pressure of it all made you explode yet again, an orgasm crashing through you intensely, your mind blanking out till all you could think of was him and his massive fucking cock.
Valko smirked, his canines showing through as he took a little advantage of your clouded state. “Please? You want my babies dont you, want me to breed you full till we have a damn litter.”
He leaned forward to kiss your fucked-out self, the two of you moaning into each other's mouths as you completely lost yourself to the pleasure.
♡ Bunny's Note: Sorry gng, not even Bunny is immune to writing the wolf with a breeding kink. I know it’s cliché but I couldn't help it, the idea sounded way too hot in my head😣 ₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎
Part 1 with the other 5 and the art that inspired this.
🔞CW: Dry humping. Dirty talk. Self love. Smut.🔞
Infold, give us our wolf back! Please!
A special thanks to @stardustsirens, I love your beautiful brain 😚
Twenty minutes. You'd been gone twenty minutes before you turned around, halfway to work, because your work folder was still sitting on the kitchen counter.
Valko had stayed the night, though not the way anyone would assume. You'd cooked too late, ended up on the couch watching movies until midnight and the idea of him driving home just to come back in a few hours was ridiculous. So he'd stayed. Folded that huge body of his onto your couch—which was built for exactly one normal sized human—insisting he was fine even though you both knew his neck would hate him for it in the morning. He hadn't so much as brought up sharing your bed. That line was still there between you, respected without either of you having to say so out loud.
Your living room was empty now. The throw blanket sat balled up at one end of the couch, still warm, still carrying that earthy scent that clung to him. You figured he'd finally given up trying to get comfortable and left for home.
Things had been tight between you two for weeks — not bad tight, just like the kind that builds when you're close to someone in every way but one. Curling up next to him on that couch last night, close enough to feel him breathing, had taken more out of you than you wanted to admit. You'd gone to your own bed after and tossed for hours, finally giving up and finishing yourself off against your pillow just to get some sleep.
You grabbed the folder off the counter, shoved it in your bag, turned toward the door already dreading the way back to work.
Your foot stopped.
Through the crack in your bedroom door came a sound — low, cut off at the edges like it hadn't meant to get out. A hitch of breath, rough with something needy.
You don't move. For a few long seconds you just stand there, blood rushing in your ears, telling yourself you imagined it. Then it comes again—louder, unmistakable. A deep, broken whine bleeding through the door, underneath it the slow, rhythmic creak of your mattress.
Something hot drops straight to your navel.
Your feet move before you decide to let them, carrying you to the gap where the door hinges open. You don't need to push it. You can see everything
Valko is on your bed, completely stripped of the restraint he usually carries around you.
On all fours, every muscle in his back straining with each roll of his hips. Both your pillows are underneath him. One is pinned between his thick, heavy thighs. The other is crushed against his chest like he's holding onto it for dear life.
The fat tip of his cock is already leaking clear precum, smearing wetly against the fabric with every thrust. The muscles of his ass bunch and flex rhythmically, his tail swishing low and frantic from side to side, brushing against his calves like he can't control it.
His nose is buried deep into one specific corner of the pillow, taking big lunges of air—sniffing the hell out of it. Strands of saliva string from his parted lips, his eyes are squeezed shut so tight his eyelashes tremble. He looks like he's desperately trying to engrave that scent into the deepest part of his memory.
The heat that floods your face is scorching and mortifying.
That's where you'd been last night. Grinding against that exact spot, face buried in your own sheets with his name stuck in your throat, thinking thoughts you'd never planned on anyone knowing about. He has his nose pressed right there. Breathing you in like it's the first clean air he's found in days.
The hallway feels like it's closing in. You can't move. The folder is shaking in your hand and you can't make yourself look away.
Valko moves his hips down again and the groan that tears out of him is nothing like his usual voice. It's scraped raw, stripped of every careful thing he usually puts between himself and the world.
"Fuck—" The word drags out of him slow and broken. His face presses deeper into the pillow, lips parting against the fabric, inhaling so hard it pulls into his mouth. "Smells so good. So fucking sweet"
Your stomach drops.
When he pulls back to thrust again you get an unobstructed view of him, and your mouth goes dry. He's huge, veins mapping his cock in thick ridges, the head flushed a deep red and slick with everything he's been leaking onto your pillow.
"There you go," he breathes, eyes still squeezed shut, hips rolling down in a slow, grinding push. He's talking to the pillow. He's talking to you—or the idea of you, the ghost of you he's got his hands on. "Take it just like that. Let me get all the way inside that pretty cunt, puppy."
He makes that sound again—a high, needy whine that has no business coming out of something so big—and his ears flatten tight against his skull. His rhythm stutters, slow grinds breaking into something harder and more desperate, the whole bed frame groaning with it.
"Such a good pup," he mutters, tail thrashing wild against the mattress, fingers curling into your pillow. His voice is getting rougher, darker, words spilling out like he can't stop them. "Gonna stretch you out so nice. Fill you up with everything I've been—" A sharp, punched out groan. "You'd take it, wouldn't you? Every single bit of it."
His thighs grip the pillow tightly, his whole body going rigid as he grinds down and holds it there. His knuckles are stark white, fingers curled past the point of grip, something closer to desperation made physical. You can see the effort it's taking him to hold back. Every thick vein along the back of his hands stands out in rigid relief, branching up his wrists, mapping the strain all the way to where his forearms flex with each movement.
With every snap of his hips the tension climbs higher. Up his biceps and across his broad shoulders, the whole architecture of him pulled tight. He is holding the pillow like letting go for even a second would mean losing the last thread of you he has access to.
Like if his grip slips, your scent goes with it.
His hands have never looked like this. You've seen them steady holding a weapon, calm giving an order, certain in every situation that called for certainty. Right now they're shaking slightly. Not from weakness.
But from the effort of not having the real thing.
The ache between your thighs is unbearable and the urge hits you like something physical, pressing into your sternum until your body stops listening to your brain entirely. You want to tell him yes. You want to walk into that room and pull those pillows out from under him and put yourself there instead.
Your foot moves forward one step.
That's all it takes. The tiny shift in air carries your scent right through the gap in the door—laced now with the edge of your arousal—and delivers it straight to him.
Valko goes completely still.
His ears snap upright, swiveling toward the door, and his head follows a half second later. Through the narrow crack his eyes find yours instantly, pupils blown so wide the gold of his irises is almost gone. The room sits heavy with the smell of sex and the sound of both of you breathing.
He doesn't cover himself and your eyes drop without your permission.
The sight of you watching him—your scent hitting him fresh and full—is what does it. You watch it happen. His cock swells further, skin pulled tight, a low growl tearing out of his chest and his hips give one last involuntary roll forward.
He cums with his eyes locked on yours the entire time.
He stares straight through the gap in the door, unblinking, holding your gaze with an intensity that makes your legs feel unreliable, as the first thick streak of white paints your pillow. Another spasm rolls through him, another rope of cum landing heavy over the exact spot your scent had soaked into the fabric last night. Over and over until the last bead clings to the tip and stretches thin before finally dropping.
His chest heaves and his tongue drags slowly across his lower lip and then his canines like he's tasting the air. His tail gives one long, heavy thump against the mattress.
He's still staring a hole right through you.
You are completely fucked.
And while we're here @ekay-i .... PLEASE🙏🏻. Valko deserves a spot in the pillow humpers art. i am begging on my knees 🧎🏻♀️🫣
NERD! ZAYNE TEACHING THE GUYS HOW TO MAKE A GIRL CUM USING YOU AS VISUAL AID😝
🔞MDNI🔞
*Yes, this is a fuck you to that bitter anon.
Part 2 here Part 3 here
"They are full of shit" Caleb wiped a stray drop of alcohol from his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at nobody in particular. "The girls on the third floor make up half that stuff for fun."
You were wedged in the middle, squeezed between Caleb and Rafayel on the edge of a mattress that groaned under the collective weight. Every time someone moved, the springs let out a pathetic little squeak. The alcohol was starting to feel like a warm, heavy blanket behind your eyes, blurring the room into soft edges, but it was definitely making you feel a little more brave. Or reckless. Probably both.
You’d know these idiots since freshman orientation. Two years of shared greasy takeout, late night study sessions, and brutal hungover Sundays. That messy stretch of friendship was the only reason you felt comfortable enough to let your filter slip.
"It's not just the third floor," you said, tracing a finger around the rim of your cup. "It's everybody. The nursing majors. The track team. Pretty much every girl I've talked to. They all said the same thing, that you guys look like you belong on a billboard, but fuck like clumsy horny dogs."
"A horny dog? Seriously?" Rafayel looked genuinely wounded. "I am an artist and a very attentive one."
"You think lighting candles counts as attentiveness."
"It contributes."
From across the room, Sylus remained focused on his phone.
"Let them talk," his thumb paused over the screen "The loudest complaints usually come from people who never say what they really want."
You laughed "That's what you're going with?"
Sylus shrugged.
"Fine. Caleb?" he immediately looked suspicious.
"What?"
"That girl from the lacrosse team you fucked last weekend..."
Caleb groaned. "Oh, come on."
"How do you know she actually finished?"
"Because she told me she did."
"And?"
"And she was loooooud."
You stared at him and saw his confidence falter slightly.
"Girls do that so you'll speed up and get it over with"
Caleb opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked toward the window, his jaw shifting. "She... she wrapped her legs around my waist the entire time. That means it was good, right?"
"That means she was trying to get more friction because you weren't hitting the right spots," you said turning your head towards Rafayel "What about you?"
Rafayel straightened. "What about me?"
"When was the last time you actually looked down to see what was happening instead of just listening to the noises she was making?"
Rafayel's face turned a bright pink that extended to the tips of his ears. "I can tell by the rhythm. The atmosphere shifts."
"The atmosphere doesn't make a girl cum, Raf," you laughed, the whiskey bubbling up in your chest.
Across the room Xavier finally lifted his head from the rug, his hair stuck out in every direction.
"I just do it until they tell me to stop."
The room went quiet.
"Xavi, that is not the reassuring answer you think it is."
"Oh." he considered that.
"See?" you said, pointing around the room. "None of you actually know how to make a girl cum, you just assume you did a great job because you're hot, and then leave them to finish the job themselves after you fall asleep."
"That's correct"
The words cut through the conversation.
Zayne didn't look up from his anatomy textbook, he just adjusted his glasses and continued reading for a few more second before lifting his eyes.
Caleb barked out a laugh. "Oh, here we go."
Zayne ignored him.
"Most guys operate on assumptions rather than observation."
"Listen to the expert," Caleb said. "A man whose dating life exists entirely in textbooks."
Zayne's expression didn't change. "I understand the theory better than you"
"Theory?" Caleb repeated.
"Anatomy, Caleb."
"That's a lot of confidence for someone talking in hypotheticals." Sylus teased.
Zayne hesitated "It isn't as complicated as people make it out to be. I can show you."
"Do it." the words left your mouth before you could calculate the weight of them. "Show them."
Caleb sat up straighter. Rafayel looked interested. Xavier was really awake now.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Sylus finally dropped his phone into his lap, his gaze locking onto your face, heavy and unblinking.
Zayne didn't blink either. A dark red flush crept from beneath the collar of his black sweater, staining his throat. He looked at your cup, then at the space between his own knees, his jaw working as he swallowed.
Shit Shit Shit
"We're... we've known each other a long time, this feels like we're crossing a line."
"She asked," Sylus stood, the leather chair groaning beneath him. He crossed the room to slide the deadbolt into place before he leaned against the door and folded his arms. "And the doctor says he has the answers. Let's see a demonstration."
------
The floorboards felt cold under your bare feet. Taking your clothes off wasn't nearly as smooth as moments like this looked in movies. It was awkward, rushed, and far too real. Your jeans caught on your ankles as you kicked them off, your bra strap twisting before you cleared it from your arms.
"Sit here," Zayne whispered. He was now sitting on the edge of the mattress, knees spread wide apart.
You moved into the gap between his thighs. His chest felt warm against your shoulder blades.
Caleb and Rafayel pulled two chairs forward and Xavier stayed on the floor, dragging himself closer until his knees almost touched your ankle.
Before moving anywhere else, Zayne clamped his hands around your waist. His palms felt warm against your skin, holding you steady between his thighs.
"The skin requires warming first, If you touch her when she's cold, the muscles contract. It closes the blood vessels."
His hands slid higher, the friction of his palms catching against your ribcage. He paused when he reached your breasts, using his fingers to lift and shape them without any sudden squeezing. He kept his touch frustratingly light, his thumbs sweeping in slow arcs across the base before flicking directly over the tight tips.
A gasp caught in your throat, slipping out as a sharp breath. You dug your fingers into his knees, squeezing just to keep from writhing away from his hands.
"Are those goosebumps?" Xavier asked from below before reaching out, his hand hovering an inch from your left knee before he dropped it back to the floor.
"Yes, but it's an involuntary reaction," Zayne leaned his head forward, his hair brushing against your earlobe. "It doesn't mean she's cold."
Caleb cleared his throat, looking down at his hands, then back at you.
The sudden loss of Zayne's touch on your breasts made you shiver, his hands already traveling down your abdomen to grip your inner thighs. He parted your legs wide, exposing you to the heavy stares of the room. Under the direct glow of the desk lamp, the skin of your inner thighs visibly trembled.
His knuckles dragged over your outer lips and he stalled there, his jaw tightening as he drew his hand back and stared down at the slight sheen—not nearly enough.
"She’s nervous and that's completely normal. Any friction here would just cause irritation."
"So you're stuck," Rafayel said. He was leaning so far forward his chest rested against his knees, his eyes wide and tracking every movement of Zayne’s hand.
"No."
Zayne brought his hand up to your face and pressed his middle and index finger against your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open. The scent of paper vanished under the wet heat of your mouth. "Wet them."
You took his fingers in, tongue curling around them. Zayne watched your lips close around his knuckles, his chest expanding against your back, before he pulled them out with a wet pop, a thin thread of saliva breaking between his hand and your mouth.
"You only need to do this once to get things moving," Zayne explained guiding his wet fingers back down between your thighs. "If a man needs to re wet his fingers or use lube over and over, it means he’s doing something wrong."
He pressed his slick fingers directly against your clit, rubbing an agonizingly perfect circle.
A sharp cry broke from your lips and he rested the heel of his hand firmly against your pelvic bone, using that grounding weight to steady his touch while his index and middle fingers began a slow, testing exploration of the skin surrounding the swollen bud. He moved in light crescent shapes, mapping the outer edges first without touching the center directly.
Your hips moved, trying to force his hand to hit your favorite spots, but Zayne held your waist with his other hand, keeping you still.
"Not yet," his voice was losing its stiffness "Look at how she reacts when I go near it. She's so sensitive right here. Such a good girl for letting you all see." The bastard knew about your praise kink. Of course he knew.
He changed the strokes to a firm downward motion along the sides before gathering the slick that was beginning to coat his knuckles and smoothing it back up. He watched your skin change color under his fingers, his thumb finally making direct contact with your clit, pressing down and tracing a tight, clockwise circle.
Your thighs twitched, knees trying to clamp shut around his arm.
"Don't hide," his thumb switched direction, drawing slow figure eight that dragged across the very top of the bud before dipping into the soft groove underneath. "Let them watch how wet you get when someone actually takes their time with you. You look so pretty when you're dripping like this."
Across from you, Caleb's hands were gripping his own knees so hard the fabric of his sweatpants strained. His eyes were wide and fixed entirely on the gloss of your skin where Zayne’s thumb was slicking the fluid back and forth, finding the exact weight that made your head fall back against his shoulder "She’s... she’s shaking..." his voice sounded rough and uneven.
Rafayel moved to the edge of his seat, his fingers tangling in the hem of his shirt, his face had gone from pink to tomato red "And the color is different..."
"Because the blood is pooling exactly where it’s supposed to," Zayne told them increasing the pressure just a fraction until you let out a broken whimper. "If you change the rhythm too fast, you lose the progress, so find the pattern she responds to, and you stay there."
From the floor, Xavier stared at the small twitches of your hole "She’s pulling in, like she wants to wrap around something."
Sylus stepped away from the door, his hands were out of his pockets now, his knuckles white as he watched Zayne’s fingers spread your folds apart, exposing the wet, pink interior completely "She's begging for it."
Zayne looked up at the four men watching.
"The manual rhythm is only the baseline, the tissue is highly receptive to temperature and texture. Anything you can execute with your hands, you can replicate, and enhance, with your mouth.
He brought his index finger directly to the very tip of your swollen clit, pressing with small, localized prods.
"If you use the tip of your tongue like this," Zayne explained, his finger mimicking the flicking motion against the sensitive bud, making your hips jump, "you target the isolated nerve clusters. It's high intensity and it forces the blood to the surface faster."
He then slid his index and middle fingers tightly together, flattening them against each other to create a wider, smoother surface. He pressed the flat length of both fingers firmly against your entire center, dragging them in a long upward stroke from your entrance all the way up to your clit.
"But when she gets overwhelmed, you switch," Zayne said as he repeated the stroke "You have to use the whole flat of your tongue like this. It dampens the sharp sting of the sensitivity while keeping the heat building. You alternate based on how much she's twitching."
He used his other hand to gently pull your lips apart "Look at the opening," Zayne's breath felt soooo hot against your neck. "When the nerves are active, the tissue swells. It opens on its own."
Behind you, something thick pressed firmly into the cleft of your ass. Zayne was completely hard. His glasses had slid down his nose, but he didn't take his hands away to fix them.
"Zaynie..." you moaned, your head falling back against his shoulder again. The sight of the guys watching you was winding the coil in your belly tighter and tighter.
"Tell them," Zayne ordered, his fingers digging harder into the top of your clit. "Tell them what it feels like."
"It's... it's so good," you sobbed out "I... Zayne, I need...fuck...."
Sylus moved closer.
"The internal contractions," Zayne told them, his words breaking as his thumb worked in a fast circle. "They will milk whatever is inside. Just one finger in. Now. Feel it."
"Now?" Rafayel stammered, his hand shaking as he reached out.
"Now!" you ripped the word straight from your chest,
They moved together, a crowded rush of limbs. Four fingers,all pushed into your wet pussy at once.
Your muscles clamped down in spasms. Caleb let out a low curse, his head dropping against your thigh as you squeezed his finger. "Fucking hell... tight little pussy."
"Keep your fingers still," Zayne's thumb was still holding pressure against your twitching clit while he kept your hips steady against his own shaking thighs. "Feel the rhythm. That's her release."
Rafayel didn't speak, his eyes were fixed on his finger buried inside you.
The silence returned slowly, punctuated only by the sound of you trying to catch your breath. One by one, the fingers withdrew, leaving your cunt open and drooling. You collapsed back into Zayne, your muscles humming with the aftershocks.
Four men stood around the bed, looking down at their wet hands. Zayne was breathing hard against your neck, one hand shaking visibly as he pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.
He cleared his throat, his voice cracking slightly "Are there... any other questions?"
Xavier raised his hand slowly to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste the wetness on his knuckle, his eyes completely dark as he stared at your open thighs.
"Yeah," he said "Can you teach us how to make her squirt?"
NERD!ZAYNE TEACHING THE GUYS HOW TO MAKE YOU CUM, SQUIRT AND OTHER TRICKS. Part 3.
Guess who's free from the mature label? 🥳🙌🏻
Part 1 Part 2
The walk back to your apartment felt surreal, it felt like stepping out of a fever dream into something cold and sad. Zayne's dorm room had been suffocating before you left. Caleb, Rafayel, Xavier, even Sylus fought over who'd take you home. Zayne stayed by the window, quiet, but his eyes followed every move you made. You turned them all down. Heart hammering, you scrambled out the door before anyone could stop you, desperate for air, for space, for anything that wasn't his room.
How were you supposed to look at them now?
The images wouldn't stop. You had seen them hard and visibly leaking through their clothes just from watching you. The memory of Xavier’s dark eyes right before he buried his face between your thighs made your stomach flip. And Zayne—God, his voice. That calm cracking into something that ordered you to let go. It wouldn't leave you alone.
Now, sitting in the university library three days later, you couldn't focus on a single line of text in front of you. You were supposed to be studying, but the quiet just made the noise in your head louder. Close your eyes for even a second and you felt it again, four fingers buried inside you, stretching you past what you thought you could take, your pussy clenching around them in little aftershocks. The warmth of Zayne’s cum soaking through his trousers against your bare ass.
The library's silence felt exactly like the silence after you'd come.
Dread settled low in your chest. Was this it? Had you wrecked the only thing that ever felt safe? You hadn't seen any of them in days—dodging texts, taking the long way to class, hiding in corners of campus you didn't even know existed. Two years of friendship and you'd thrown it all away because a little bit of alcohol got you horny. Fuck!
You didn't hear the sneaker scuff against carpet a few rows over. Didn't notice the eyes tracking the nervous way your finger kept dragging across your bottom lip.
Rafayel stood half hidden by art history, knuckles white against the shelf, watching you with the same burning focus he'd had three nights ago.
Forty eight hours after you fled Zayne's dorm, the deadbolt on his door slid shut again. Everyone—except you— was back again.
Caleb leaned against the wall spinning a basketball on his finger until it dropped, thudding against the floor. He'd mutter something under his breath, scoop it up, start over. Rafayel paced the strip of carpet between the twin beds, flipping through a stack of index cards he wasn't reading—snap, snap, snap. Sylus stood by the window with his back to the room, fingers tapping some restless rhythm against the glass. Xavier was the only one still, flat on his stomach on Zayne's bed, chin in his hands, staring blankly at a stray bobby pin left behind on the floor. Zayne sat at his desk pretending to study an anatomy chart. He'd adjusted the lamp three times. Tried to ignore the testosterone fogging up his room. But between the ball, the pacing, and the tapping, focus was a lost cause.
He slammed his textbook shut, took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Caleb dropped the ball.
"Stop pretending," he said, voice dropping into flat calm. "You didn't come here to study. Just say what you actually want to say so I can kick you all out."
Silence. Quick, guilty glances passed between them—nobody wanting to be the one to crack first, to admit they'd all been picturing the same thing. You, two nights ago, coming apart under their hands.
Rafayel cleared his throat first, tossing his index cards onto the bed "Fiiiiine. Hypothetically. Say a guy's already inside a girl. All the way in. How do you hit that spot? Is there a specific angle?"
A muscle jumped in Zayne's jaw. "The angle doesn't change just because your dick is inside her, Rafayel. Shallow thrusts, angled up. Not just slamming into her. Though I doubt you have the stability to hold that for long."
"I have great stability!" Rafayel hissed, ears burning pink, thumb rubbing against his middle finger as the memory of you made his pulse spike.
"He once held a paintbrush at the exact same angle for an hour straight," Xavier offered, not lifting his chin from his hands.
"See? Stability."
"That's your wrist, Rafayel. Different muscle group entirely," Caleb said.
From the bed, Xavier's voice cut through again, quiet and lazy. "What about when she's on top? Or on the edge of a desk. How do you go down on her so she can grind as hard as she wants? For when she needs to control the movements herself."
Caleb snorted "A desk? Real smooth, Xavi."
"Better than what you're about to ask."
"You don't even know what I'm about to ask."
"I've known you for two years. I know exactly what you're about to ask.”
Caleb's ears went red, but he plowed ahead anyway. "Okay. Hypothetically, say a guy's bigger than average. How's he supposed to use her mouth without hurting her throat?”
"Bigger than average?" Rafayel repeated.
"I am."
"Compared to what?”
"Compared to the general population."
"You've never seen the general population's dick. You've seen yours and you've seen ours and apparently that's all the data you needed?."
Caleb opened his mouth, found nothing, and closed it again.
Sylus finally stopped tapping the glass and a low laugh rumbled out of him "If a guy's significantly bigger than average…”
“Not you too…” Rafayel groaned
“How does he make sure he actually fits, without hurting her? If she's tight. Really tight. Where's the point her body just gives up and takes it?”
Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose again. "I cannot believe I'm hearing grown men compare dick sizes in my dorm room while pretending it's for science."
"It is for science," Caleb said.
"It is not for science, Caleb."
"Reproductive science."
"Get out of my room."
Nobody moved. Zayne let out a long breath through his nose, the kind that meant he was three seconds from actually losing it.
The silence came back, heavier.
Zayne put his glasses back on slowly, fingers locking onto the edge of his desk until his knuckles went white, whatever calm he usually wore was completely gone.
“Every single one of you needs patience and a lot less idiocy than you're currently showing," Zayne said "I'll answer each question once. Once. And then you're all getting the hell out of my dorm. Am I clear?”
Their faces stayed blank. None of them realized they were all in the same boat.
Rafayel thought he was the only one picturing your breasts. Caleb thought his face fucking question was a private fantasy about your mouth, Xavier was silently planning how to put his tongue to use on you again and Sylus was quietly calculating exactly how to stretch you open and how slow he'd have to go. They were entirely oblivious to the fact that not a single one of them was thinking about an imaginary girl. Every single question in that room had your name underneath it.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The shadow over your book solidified into something real. Rafayel had stepped out from behind the art history shelves, and walked straight over, pulled out the chair across from you, and dropped into it like he owned the table.
He propped his chin in his palm and smiled at you. Easy. Unbothered. Like three nights ago he hadn't had your leg pinned wide open over Zayne's leg, staring at you with eyes blown wide and wild.
"You've been reading the same page for ten minutes," he said, voice smooth, carrying that familiar teasing lilt like nothing in the world had changed. "Is it the most boring book ever written or are you hiding in here?"
Your mouth had gone dry. You closed the book slowly, hoping he wouldn't notice your hands weren't steady. "Just studying, Raf. Got a lot going on."
"Clearly," he said, dragging one finger in a slow circle against the table, eyes never leaving yours.
He didn't take the hint to go. He pulled a sketchbook out of his bag instead and started doodling something on the margins while you tried, and failed, to read the same sentence for the fourth time. Every few minutes he'd glance up, catch you watching, and smirk like he'd won something. You'd duck back to your notes. He'd go back to sketching. The cycle repeated itself until you couldn't tell if you were studying or being studied.
"You're doing it again," he murmured eventually, not looking up from his sketchbook.
"What?"
"Biting your lip…” He flipped the sketchbook closed before you could see what he'd drawn. "It's distracting."
"You're the one distracting me."
"I'm just sitting here, very quietly, minding my own business."
"You sat down across from me, uninvited."
"I go to this school. I'm allowed in the library." He grinned, and it was the same easy, infuriating grin he always wore.
When you finally packed up, he packed up too, slinging his bag over one shoulder and falling into step beside you without asking if that was okay. You walked across campus together. He talked sbout a canvas he was prepping, about a professor who kept docking him points for too much emotion in his color theory, about some gallery downtown that wanted his portfolio. Normal things. Easy things. He never once brought up the dorm. Never said Xavier's name, or Zayne's, or anything about orgasms or the sounds you'd made that day.
But it was there anyway. In every silence. In the half second too long his eyes dropped to your mouth mid sentence before flicking back up like nothing happened. In the way his shoulder kept finding yours on the narrow sidewalk, brief and electric, like he was doing it on purpose and daring you to call him out. You grabbed coffee. He ordered for you without asking, remembering exactly how you took it, and didn't comment when your fingers brushed his over the cup and you both pretended not to notice.
The whole afternoon felt like holding your breath.
By the time you made it back to your building Rafayel was still beside you. Still talking. Still walking like he had every right to be there. You didn't stop him at the stairs. You didn't stop him in the hallway. And when your key finally turned in the lock and the door swung open, whatever fragile, careful normalcy you'd both been playing at for the last three hours fell apart completely.
You barely had time to kick the door shut.
Rafayel's palms hit the wood on either side of your head, and then his mouth was on yours and there was no easing into it, no polite preamble, just him, kissing you like he'd been thinking about nothing else for three days. He tasted like dark coffee and barely leashed desperation. Your hands found his chest on instinct, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.
He'd been your first crush out of all of them. The beautiful, dramatic, slightly impossible artist who always seemed to exist outside of your reach. And now he had you pinned against your own door.
"Three days," he breathed against your mouth "Three days of you hiding and leaving my texts on read."
"Raf—"
"I counted the hours." His forehead dropped to yours "I had to stop because… it was embarrassing."
His hands moved before you could say something else—down your neck, across your shoulders, fingers curling into the hem of your shirt and pulling it up and over your head. He dropped it somewhere. Didn't look where it landed. He was too busy looking at you.
He'd been replaying it for three nights straight, stroking his cock raw. The light catching your skin. Zayne's hands on you. The sounds you'd made. The image had lodged itself somewhere behind his eyes and refused to leave.
His fingers found the clasp of your bra, knuckles brushing the curve of your spine, and you shivered so hard it traveled through his hands. He undid it carefully—not slowly, he wasn't capable of slow right now—and slid the straps off your shoulders, tossing it aside.
"I kept thinking about this," he said, half to himself. "Zayne had his hands on you and I was sitting three feet away going completely insane." He had been dying to see your breasts again since he had seen your nipples turn tight under Zayne's fingers.
He cupped you gently, and the slight roughness of his palms against your skin pulled a sound out of you immediately. He felt it more than heard it.
"Yeah, just like that" he murmured.
His hands were trembling slightly, he noticed and hated it but couldn't stop it. His hands never trembled. But this was you, and you were looking up at him with those eyes, and his hands were shaking like he was an eighteen year old that had never touched anyone before in his life.
His thumbs dragged over your nipples as he watched your face, not your chest, the way your lips parted, the way your head tipped back an inch. Cataloguing. Filing it away. Learning the shape of you the way he learned everything—through touch, through attention, through taking his time even when every instinct was screaming at him not to..
"You have no clue," he said quietly, thumbs circling again, "what it was like to watch you and not be able to—" He stopped. Pressed his lips together. His jaw worked like he was deciding how honest to be. "I kept thinking about what sounds you'd make if it was just me. If I got to take my time."
His hands lifted your breasts slightly, testing the weight with the same attention he gave to everything he cared about. His eyes tracked the movement.
"I want to draw you like this someday," he said, almost offhand, like the thought had just surfaced. Then his gaze flicked up to yours. "Can I?.”
Your back arched off the door and he took that as the invitation it was, mouth closing over your right breast with a hungry sound that vibrated against your skin. His tongue worked tight circles around your nipple before he pulled it deep, sucking hard enough to make your knees buckle, hands moving to grip your waist to keep you upright. When he finally pulled off, he dragged his mouth across to the other side, slower this time, lips brushing the soft underside before he bit down carefully and then sucked until a mark bloomed red against your skin, exactly where he wanted it.
He pulled back just far enough to look at it. Something satisfied moved across his face.
"There," he said quietly before he pressed his face back into your skin and groaned like you were killing him.
You didn't fully register the part where you moved from the door to your bed. Clothes came off in pieces—his shirt somewhere by the desk, your jeans a problem that took both of you longer than it should have, both of you half laughing for about three seconds before his mouth found your throat and the laughing stopped. The sheets felt cold against your back when you finally went down. Rafayel was all heat, hovering over you, weight braced on one arm, looking down at you with the same burning eyes that had been watching you from across that library for the better part of an hour.
He'd shed his pants and underwear at some point. He was fully hard, thick and leaking, a bead of moisture gathered at the tip that made your stomach flip because you remembered what he'd looked like three nights ago, damp fabric, clenched jaw and eyes that couldn't look away from you.
He parted your thighs and settled between them. He'd painted you in his head a hundred times in the last three days. He kept going back to the image of you spread open and wanting, the way you'd looked when you were right at the edge. He'd tried to work through it. Picked up a brush, stared at a blank canvas, put the brush down. Made coffee. Stared at his phone. Almost texted you seventeen times.
He guided himself to your entrance, and Zayne's voice chose that exact moment to surface in his memory. "Shallow thrusts, angled up. You have to use your hips to angle the pressure up against the anterior wall with every thrust. And internal targeting alone isn't always enough. You'll need to add direct stimulation to her clitoris at the same time if you actually want her to cum."
He almost laughed. Instead he shifted his weight and looked at you with an expression that was equal parts focused and insufferable.
"I did some research..." he said.
"Raf..."
"For artistic purposes." He pressed forward, just barely, just enough to feel the heat of your pussy against the tip of his cock, and watched your face.
He let out a slow, shaking breath and pushed inside you.
The sound he made wasn't dignified. It was pulled out of him by the way you gripped him—tight and hot—your body drawing him in like it had been waiting specifically for him. He sank all the way to the hilt, pelvis pressed flush against yours, and stayed there for a moment with his forehead dropped to your shoulder and his jaw locked so hard it ached.
He needed a second. Just one second.
You were clawing at his shoulders, nails dragging, and the sting of it helped him focus.
Pull back. Shallow. Angle up. Zayne's voice was sitting in the back of his skull like an annotation in the margin of a textbook. He wanted to be annoyed about it, but not right now, he was going to be annoyed about it later. Right now he pulled back slowly, almost all the way out, felt you clench around the tip of his dick like you were trying to keep him inside, and thrusted back in with his hips tilted up.
The sound you made rattled something loose in his chest.
He felt it, the moment the angle caught, the way your whole body seized around him, legs snapping tight around his waist and heels digging into the small of his back trying to pull him deeper. He'd hit it exactly. The spot Xavier had worked open with his fingers three nights ago, and the memory of watching that—watching you cum for Xavier—made something possessive and dark curl through him.
It was his turn now.
He reached down between your bodies, fingers sliding through the slick until his thumb found your clit, swollen and twitching, and pressed down.
"Is that—" His voice broke halfway through the question. He cleared his throat, face burning. "Is that it?"
You answered by moaning his name, which he was choosing to take as a yes.
He kept the same rhythm, thumb working circles around your clit. Your walls fluttering around him in little pulses was making it extremely difficult to think. He had to remind himself several times that he was an artist. He had the patience. He was going to make you cum and squirt just like Xavier did.
His hands were shaking again.
"I've got you," he pressed his mouth to your temple, your cheek, wherever he could reach. "I've got you, I've got you, cutie"
He picked up the pace slowly, maintaining the angle through sheer stubbornness. The sounds filling the room were obscene—wet and unavoidable—and Rafayel didn't care about any of it because you were falling apart underneath him and he couldn't look away from your face.
He'd painted a lot of things. Spent years chasing the right light, the right color, the right moment that made something ordinary look like it meant something. He'd never painted anything that looked like you did right now and he was already furious at himself because he knew he would never be able to.
He drove into you harder, felt the headboard knock once against the wall, and decided he didn't care.
"You're so tight," he choked out, the words barely making it past his teeth, pressed into the wet skin of your neck. His lips dragged down to your collarbone, teeth grazing, and his thumb kept its pressure on your clit without mercy. "You keep...fuck...every time I hit it you...It feels so good"
The pressure was building fast, coiling low in your abdomen, that same terrifying weight you'd felt under Xavier's fingers—except this was different, this was Rafayel, his chest against yours and his mouth on your throat and you couldn't think about anything else.
You bore down without thinking, muscles releasing the way Zayne had told you to, pushing back against him, and Rafayel made a sound against your neck that was almost pained.
"Raf...please, I'm gonna..."
"Don't hold it, cutie. Give it to me" he whispered right against your ear.
A rush of heat soaked the sheets beneath you as you cried his name into the quiet room. Not a whisper. Not a gasp. His name, loud and completely undone.
Rafayel groaned like something in him gave way.
Whatever control he'd been holding onto—the careful rhythm, the patience, the angle, all of it, shattered the second he felt you cum around him. He buried himself as deep as he could go and followed you over the edge, shaking, both hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he poured into you in long spurts.
He collapsed onto your chest.
His heart was slamming against your ribs, your fingers were tangled in his hair from some point you couldn't remember. The room was quiet except for both of you trying to remember how lungs worked.
His lips moved against your collarbone
"I sketched you. In the library today. While you weren't looking." His fingers traced something slow and shapeless against your ribs. "You looked like you were carrying something heavy." A breath. "I wanted to take it from you.”
If you asked to be tagged and I didn't it's because I couldn't find your username. If you are not on the list and want to be tagged on the next part let me know.
Obviously, he didn't want his family to see his boner, but there it was already, hiding underneath the random throw pillow he grabbed.
It wasn't Valko's fault.
It was yours.
You'd been sitting beside him, listening to his cousins talk about God knows what. To be honest, he wasn't listening. He was too focused on you.
You looked so nice today; all cute and modest because you were nervous to see his family. He just wanted to be closer to you. So, he dragged you in by your waist and leaned toward you, simply wanting to rest his head on your shoulder.
But then your scent hit him—that sweet cloying smell that made his insides burn.
He shifted on the couch, his skin feeling like it was being pulled taut. Then, slowly, he saw it; a very obvious tent forming in his jeans. Great. Just great.
He cleared his throat, his cheeks burning as he grabbed the nearest throw pillow and pulled it over his lap.
And then you said something. He wasn't sure what.
"Hello? Did you hear me?" you said.
Go away, go away. If he thought it enough, maybe his boner would ... you know, go away.
"What?"
"Can you come with me to the bathroom?" you repeated.
Fuck. Of course. Just his luck.
"Uh…" His eyes flicked away. "It's down the hall. Second door on the left."
You frowned at him. "I asked if you could come with me, Valko. Just wait outside the door. Please?"
"Just go with her, man," one of his cousins said.
Valko ignored him. He sighed, his face growing hotter. "I can't…" he mumbled.
You squinted. "What?"
"I can't," he said louder, but quiet enough that only you could hear.
"Why not?"
He sighed, grabbing you by your arm and pulled you closer to speak into your ear. Big mistake. Because now he had the overwhelming urge to bury his nose in your neck and pretend his cousins weren't here. "Because you smell too good," he muttered, his voice strained.
Your brows pinched together. "What? Valko, what the hell are you talking about—?"
He huffed—an annoyed little sound—not at you, at the situation. "I have a boner," he finally said.
You gawked at him. "From what, smelling me?"
His ears flattened against his head. When you said it out loud, it sounded ridiculous. But he swallowed his pride. His hand tightened on your arm, keeping you still. "Just… Just sit here for a minute."
"A minute?! Valko, I really need to p—"
"It's not my fault you smell so good!" he huffed.
His cousin barked out a laugh. "Valko, you dirty dog."
“You need-to-be-quiet.” Zayne’s words are mumbled against your lips, an attempt to swallow your moans. It’s a good plan in theory, but you aren’t the only one making noise.
“Fuck…taste so good…” Valko nearly moans into your pussy, holding the vibrating panties aside so he can lap at your wetness. Your leg is thrown over his shoulder, heel digging into his back with every flick of his tongue.
"V-Valko! Fuck!" You grip his hair, tugging him even closer to you. Zayne is clearly amused, smirking as his head dips to nip at your neck, leaving a mark.
"Don't cum yet." He murmurs against the shell of your ear, making your hips jerk against Valko's mouth as you try to hold off.
"But Z-Zayne!" You whine, tearing up at the sensation. Valko definitely heard the command, and slows down to keep you on edge.
A cool hand slips down, repositioning the panties to be pressed against your clit, though Valko keeps them tugged aside enough to taste you. The vibrations switch back on, but Zayne's hands are both empty...
Oh that stupid wolf.
His grin is evil as he switches it higher. Your body goes rigid, tugging his hair even harder as you desperately hold off your orgasm.
"Zayne p-please!" With tears streaming down your face, you're sure you look a picture of desperation. When he mumbles his approval, your vision goes white.
"H-holy shit..." You murmur as Valko fixes your underwear, setting your leg down carefully as Zayne adjusts your dress.
"I think we'll be going now. Care to join us for dinner?" Zayne offers, draping his jacket over your shoulder. Valko debates for a moment, and after licking his lips, nods.
cw:pure fluff, probs ooc but idc he’s pathetic in my eyes, based on my earlier post
ima re-format later, but I hope u guys like my silly lil fic of wolf boi Valko
He softly sniffs the air, searching for your scent in the wind. Valko's eyes narrow in concentration as he continues sniffing, sifting through the putrid stenches filling his nose trying to find your sweet comforting scent.
When he latches onto your scent, he's quick to speed towards the direction its coming from, missing you dearly (even if he would never admit it to your face).
His search leads the man to a cafe, where he spots you sitting at one of the tables enjoying a small cup of milk tea.
The pink haired man takes a deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves, and walks towards your table. Noticing the prescence staring down at you, your expression brightens as your eyes recognize the man in front of you.
"Valko, I didn't expect to see you here!" You beam at him.
“O-oh yeah um, I was just in the ar-area and stumbled across this cafe. What a coincidence haha," he (unconvincingly) fake laughs.
Valko mentally slaps himself at the stutter he let out, he definitely made himself a fool in front of you!
You start to ramble about your day, his mind almost going fuzzy at the way your gentle voice fills his ears. Valko was drifting on cloud nine, but was regrettably snapped out of it by his fluffy tail slowly moving upwards, almost as if it was going to start-
His eyes widen slightly in panic, frantically grabbing the pink tail with one hand and yanking the fluff downwards. There was no way Valko could EVER let you see his tail wagging.
The embarrassment would probably kill him. He wants you to think he's a strong macho guy you could depend on, not a pathetic werewolf who's so hopelessly in love with you that he couldn't control his own tail.
Valko winces a bit in pain, but covers it up with an strained smile when you tilt your head in confusion to ask, "Uh Valko, are you doing alright?"
"Oh me? Ye-yeah I'm doing fine," he forces out, stuttering for the second time in this interaction.
God, he's praying to whatever higher being exists that you don't think he's a weirdo right now.
Looking at your watch, you glance back up to Valko. "Sorry to cut our conversation short, I didn't notice the time and I'm running late. It was nice seeing you Valko!" you smile at him, a smile that almost made him pass out, before you turned and walked away.
Valko watches you walk away, blood rushing to his cheeks as he replays the interaction in his head. He couldn't believe that he actually had a conversation with you.
How your eyes shone with light while you spoke to him, how your hair framed your face perfectly, everything. He just saw you, yet he misses you already.
The werewolf is so wrapped up in his thoughts of you he doesn't notice his tail rising again, wagging at the thought of you.
you had lost count. no, scratch that, you'd gave up counting moments ago of how many times you’d come tonight.
you were utterly breathless: eyes blurry, mind hazy after another exceedingly euphoric release, yet valko seemed like he was far from done with you.
he eyes your nakedness, amusement evident on his lethal visage like you were the center of the universe — worshipping every curve of your body with his sharp, sinful gaze.
he’s catching his breath — ragged, shallow — as he took his time scanning how beautiful of a mess he'd gotten you into. your sprawled-out frame spasmed from overstimulation on his wrinkled sheets, babbling out sweet pleas as you convulsed from your high — an indecent spectacle that only further awakened his animalistic desire.
fuck. he can't help but curse on his mind, groaning as he feels his blood coursed down to where he throbs relentlessly for you.
“valko…”
you called, the tone coming out breathy, almost pleading, and tainting with pleasure. you could feel the radiating burn of his skin against you. it felt electrifying, delectably addicting even, you can't help but mewl at the sensation.
the golden hue of his gaze didn't leave the rawness of your form as you felt the warmth of his palm spreading your legs further, pumping the hardness of his cock with the other, readying for another round.
oh dear. he’s insatiable.
“oh, val—fuck.” you cried out, body shivering from oversensitivity from his small movement.
despite your glossy vision, you could tell he was…amused. his eyes glinted with a perfect combination of inextinguishable need and desire.
who wouldn't be? when he gets to see such a picturesque view beneath him for his eyes alone. with an exasperated sigh, he tapped his heaviness against your slick fold—a clear gesture of his impatience. and you moaned at the pressure, biting the flesh of your lip a little harder.
the warmth of his cock radiates deliciously onto your pooling cunt, and as if fuel to a flame, you burn with the desire for each other relentlessly.
“spread your legs wider for me.” he ordered brusquely, his voice tainting with an immense degree of greed, need — almost predatory — that only turned you on more. and you listened. you obliged like a reflex as you spread your legs exactly like he wants, pussy squelching lewdly as your folds open, beholding your glistening hole.
“fuck…” he licked his lips, attempting to swallow the sinful groan he might slip out.
“wider…”
dear god. you moaned at his needy request. and without hesitation, you obliged — a brazen act that snaps the last string of his restraints.
you're driving him insane.
“fuuck. you think you could take my cock with that gap?” his chuckle reverberates on his chest and god, the way he sounds, it was addictive.
you’re too lost from the hazy bliss of experience that you hadn't realized the sneaky deed he's orchestrating.
biting his lip, he pressed the fatness of his tip in you — splitting you open with a soppy squelch.
“ha—ah!” you gasped at the abrupt pressure, eyes rolling back from the familiar ecstatic stretch between your hips. god, he's that huge.
and with a devious smirk on his face, he leans closer until you could feel the warm fan of his breath against your ears, grazing the sharpness of his canines right there before growling impatiently. “wider.”
omfg he's hereee! my man is here! i've been waiting for him for sooo long TT ik he might or might not come out ooc in here (since no one knew about his characteristic yet) but i wrote this as quick as I could because i love him already no matter what.
Valko, big bad wolf chairman extraordinaire, is currently hiding behind the couch like a complete idiot.
“Babe,” he whispers, ears flat against his head. “Tell me he’s gone.”
You’re trying so hard not to laugh. On the coffee table sits a completely normal, very tiny house spider that had the audacity to exist in the same room as your 6’2” wolf boyfriend.
“He’s still there, babe.”
Valko lets out the most pathetic whine you’ve ever heard, tail tucked between his legs. “I fought three massive wanderers today. Three. Why is this tiny asshole scarier than them?”
You finally lose it, laugh bursting out. “You can bench press me with one arm but a spider the size of a coin has you hiding? Really?”
“I don’t like surprises with too many legs, okay?!” he hisses, peeking over the couch with wide eyes. The second the spider moves an inch he ducks back down like it’s about to launch an attack against him.
You wipe tears from your eyes, walk over, and gently escort the tiny spider outside with a piece of paper while your big strong boyfriend watches from behind the couch like a traumatised puppy.
When you come back he immediately scoops you up, burying his face in your neck with a dramatic sigh of relief.
“My hero,” he mumbles, tail finally starting to wag again. “Never tell anyone about this.”
Hi! I saw that you are taking requests for Valko, i'm still hoping they are going to change their mind but could you write somethng really sweet about Valko comforting us?
ᯓ★ valko comforts you! <3
You'd had a shit day.
It wasn't a particular thing that ruined your mood. It was just… this weird feeling of wrongness that messed with your mood.
You sat in your living room, curled up on your couch, a blanket draped over your legs and your laptop perched in your lap. You were binging your favorite show in an attempt to feel better, but there was still this restless, anxious energy humming in your chest.
You heard the small jingling of keys, then, your door was creaking open.
Valko.
He stepped in, toeing his shoes off at the door before smiling at you. "Hey, you." He tilted his head slightly, instantly noticing a weird shift in the air. "You okay?"
You forced a tiny smile. "Yeah."
He stepped into the living room, his movements slow. Carefully, he picked up your legs to make space for himself on the couch and sat down before placing them back over his lap. "You sure?"
He eyed you carefully. Then, without asking, he leaned over, cradling the back of your head to pull you toward him as he rubbed his nose to your temple. "You don't smell 'okay'," he murmured.
You recoiled. "What? Do I smell bad?"
"That's not what I meant." He placed a hand over your leg, rubbing it through the blanket. "You smell… sad."
You swallowed. "You can smell that?"
He gave a small nod.
You sighed, closing your laptop. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel—I feel sad and I have no idea why." You blinked up at your boyfriend. "It feels so stupid to say out loud. How can I feel sad without having any reason to?"
You barely had time to react before he was shifting. He grabbed your laptop, placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch, and pulled you sideways into his lap, your blanket bunching up on your lap.
"Valko, what are you—?"
"Not everything needs a reason," he said, drawing circles over your back.
You let out a soft exhale. "I sound crazy, Val."
"You don't sound crazy," he countered, moving you so your head was tucked under his chin and your cheek was pressed against his chest. "Sometimes we just have bad days."
You were quiet for a second. And for just a second, you started accepting his argument. But the doubt of the day slowly crept back in.
You opened your mouth again and murmured a quiet, "But I am crazy." You pulled back to look at him. "Do you really want a crazy partner who can't even tell you why they're upset?"
Valko's lips twitched up slightly. "I want you, period."
"But—"
"There's no but's. You're stuck with me. Do you understand that?" You scoffed, about to give another protest, but he continued, "I'm not going anywhere. So just sit here and let me do this."
He didn't give you a chance to respond to that either. He wrapped his arms around you, tucking you back under his chin, pressing a firm kiss to the top of your head.
You finally melted, the tension in your shoulders draining out. "Thanks, Val."
He hummed, sinking back into the couch so you could rest across his lap more comfortably. "Anytime."
a/n: FUH INFOLD AND EVERYTHING THAT CONTRIBUTED THIS SITUATION
