❕cw: pseudo-incest, piss kink, menstruation, mentions of p n v sex
⭑.ᐟ
“dragging me alone into the bathroom? gotta say, pips, that's scandalous.”
“do you ever shut up?”
he would say no, but his eyes are trying very hard to focus on anything other than his sister unzipping her denim miniskirt and shimmying it down as she sits on the toilet. caleb knows something inside of him will inevitably snap.
the bathroom is outdated, maximalist wallpaper poorly applied and an orange hue to the vanity bulbs buzzing in the static air around them. the blue ceramic claw tub is certainly a sight to behold— well, not as much as the one in front of him.
“little help here?”
he straightens, militant reflex kicking in to be of service to her. she spreads her legs wider and wider until the folds of her pussy are on display, a small cotton string protruding from the center.
“told ya it was gonna start today.” he smirks up at her as he crouches down, a sparkle in his eye making something in her stomach curl.
not being able to help himself, he presses a chaste kiss to her inner thigh before thumbing at her labia. she grips his bulky shoulders as if to steady herself for the procedure. long fingers begin to pull gently at the tampon, struggling when she clamps down.
“gotta relax, baby.”
a shaky ‘sorry’ whispers from above him. another tug gets the thing to come out in one fell swoop, resting wetly against his fingers. it’s a dark crimson. the flow isn't too heavy yet; he can tell just by how the string itself isn’t soiled. wrapping up the inspection, he lets the used product fall into the water below her.
no matter how many times he does this, she still blushes at the act of it all. even more so when he spreads her cunt impossibly wide, commanding her to let go. she does, obedient as always for her gege.
the stream splashes into the bowl, steady enough for him to assume she’s been needing to go for a while now. he would scold her for holding it in, but he can’t bring himself to do it when his erection strains so brutally against the front of his jeans. he’d find a way to get inside of her after the party. no question.
“good girl.” he coaxes, thumb grazing her clit playfully. squirming with surprise, droplets of urine spatter onto the seat.
“ca— leb!”
he huffs out a chuckle as he gathers toilet tissue to wipe her with. front to back, then using a feminine wipe he kept handy. makes sure to remove any prior staining or dried blood. he can still feel the softness of the jojoba oil he applied to the dark curls that adorn her mons pubis and it makes his cock twitch.
inside. he needed to be inside someway, somehow.
reaching into his pocket, he digs out a new tampon for her. before he can hand it to her, small fingers wrap like a death grip around his wrist. he gives an expectant look with a cocked eyebrow. patiently waiting for the words he already knows she’ll say.
“… i want you to do it.”
by the grace of god, he spares her the theatrics of laughing at her apparent desperation. caleb preps the applicator with practice, lining it up to her entrance, then pushing upward to insert. the stretch of dry cotton paired with an abdominal cramp makes her wince. still, he finishes gracefully like the dutiful brother he is.
a sigh of relief releases from her lungs.
"need help with that?"
her index points at the obvious tent in his pants.
"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 you—sinking 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 you—rasping breaths tickling your skin as he gives himself over to long-repressed hunger.
you really thought you knew what you were getting into.
your boyfriend, valko, he wasn't just the leader of wolf clan but he was also the chairman of eoncore tech, one of the most powerful tech conglomerates in linkon city. the man commanded boardrooms with a single look, close multi-billion credit deals before lunch, and had reputation for being ice-cold, calculated, and utterly untouchable.
when you first started seeing him, you braced yourself for the aloof CEO experience: late nights where he barely had time for you, serious conversations only, and long stretches of distance while he handled his empire and his clan. The classic alpha wolf who kept everyone, even his mate, at arm’s length.
what you actually got was a 6’0 muscular puppy who treated your personal space like it was his favorite place on earth.
and the funniest part? you loved your personal space… but you never once complained about him stealing it.
especially not when he kept choosing your tiny linkon apartment over his luxurious penthouse downtown.
“valko,” you sighed, trying to reach for the cereal on the top shelf again. a familiar wall of warmth immediately pressed against your back, strong arms wrapping around your waist like they belonged there. his chin dropped onto your shoulder, nose burying into the crook of your neck as he took a slow, contented inhale.
“hm?” the deep rumble vibrated through you.
“i can’t cook if you’re functioning as my personal weighted blanket.”
his arms only tightened, pulling you flush against his broad chest. one hand easily grabbed the box and set it on the counter without letting you go. “problem solved,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin. he gave your shoulder a quick, playful nip—his teeth grazing just enough to leave a faint indent before soothing it with a kiss. “stay.”
this was your life now.
the chairman of eoncore tech spent most nights crammed into your tiny one-bedroom apartment instead of his sprawling penthouse. he said the penthouse felt too cold. too empty.
while you tried to work at your cramped desk, he’d simply lift you, settle into your chair, and plant you in his lap so he could wrap around you like the world’s most expensive fanny pack. his laptop was open on the side table, but his focus remained entirely on nuzzling the top of your head and occasionally giving your neck or shoulder those gentle, wolfish bites that never hurt—just little reminders.
tonight was no different.
you were halfway through making dinner when the front door clicked open. valko stepped in, shrugging off his suit jacket, golden eyes softening the second they landed on you. before you could even say hello, he crossed the small kitchen in two strides and wrapped himself around you from behind.
“missed you,” he muttered against your hair. he gave the junction of your neck and shoulder a gentle, teasing bite, just enough to leave a small indent, then soothed it with his tongue.
“you saw me this morning,” you teased, though you leaned back into him anyway.
“six hours ago. too long.” his arms locked around your middle, one hand slipping under your shirt to rest warmly against your stomach. “the board kept talking. i kept thinking about coming home to you… and doing this.”
home. he called your tiny apartment “home” now.
you turned in his hold, and he immediately adjusted, lifting you onto the counter so you were eye-level. those sharp golden eyes were soft and needy as he leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your lips before playfully nipping at your bottom lip.
“you’re supposed to be terrifying,” you whispered, cupping his face. “chairman of eoncore tech. serious. distant.”
valko huffed a quiet laugh, leaning into your touch like a touch-starved wolf. “i tried that. hated every second.” his forehead pressed to yours. “i’d rather be right here. in your space. biting you gently. keeping you close. knowing you’re safe.”
his tail gave a slow, happy thump against the cabinet behind you.
you smiled, threading your fingers through his dark hair. “my personal space is basically yours at this point.”
“good.” he kissed you again, deep and slow, then trailed another playful bite along your jaw that turned into a warm love bite. “because i’m not sharing it with anyone else. not even you.”
you laughed softly into his shirt, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something wild and comforting that was purely him.
“fine. but at least let me finish dinner before you turn me into a human backpack again, mr. chairman.”
he was quiet for half a second.
then he scooped you up, dinner abandoned once more, and carried you toward the couch with zero shame.
“valko!”
“later,” he said cheerfully, already nuzzling into your neck and giving you one more gentle, affectionate bite as he settled down with you firmly in his lap. “right now the big bad wolf needs his mate. the rest of the world can wait.”
you sighed, half exasperated, half stupidly in love, and let yourself melt into the clingiest, most powerful wolf in linkon city.
your personal space was doomed the moment he decided it was his favorite place.
♯┆ some of the relationships milestones with Valko
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ cw: mdni! fem!reader, fluff and smut, nonsexual and sexual nudity, pussy eating, slight overstimulation, knotting, soft Valko just loving you
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ notes: i'm in deep can you tell? 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 || requests are open
♡ comments and reblogs appreciated ♡
── ⟢ the first date
Your first date was planned at a fancy restaurant because Valko wanted to impress you a little - the reservation however got jumbled up and you would have needed to wait until a table gets free. You told him that you don't feel like fancy food anyways which was a huge relief to him.
You ended up getting takeout from your favorite place and enjoyed the soft light of street lamps at the local park, talking away while eating. When you started feeling a little cold in the night air, he chuckled and put his jacket around you, insisting that he's a furnace and doesn't really need it anyways.
He walked you home that evening and settled for a simple hug instead of a kiss goodnight-when he leaned in, he could smell your scent mixed with his from the jacket you wore and he knew in that moment that this was something he could most certainly get used to.
── ⟢ the first kiss
The first kiss came unexpected and was almost so short, neither of you could call it a proper kiss. All you did was lean in to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head at the same time, sensing you closer, and you ended up kissing his lips - apologizing profoundly one second later which made him laugh softly.
"Am i such a bad kisser?" he asked teasingly, seeing the way you grew embarrassed, but his question made you gain your composure again.
"I had no opportunity to find out yet," you mused and your eyes flicked to his lips for just a blink of an eye, but this was all the consent he needed. His lips felt soft against yours, dominant but not suffocating as his lips slowly claimed yours while one of his hands gently cupped your cheek. When he pulled back, a lopsided grin spread on his lips.
"So, am i a bad kisser?" He asked more confident now and you hummed in thought before smiling softly.
"I don't think i can determine that from a single kiss alone" the grin on your lips couldn't even form before his mouth was back on yours again, tongue begging for entrance. Once he pulled away, sharp canines gently pulled at your kiss swollen bottom lip, your hazy eyes and small whimper telling him everything he needed to know.
── ⟢ the first time you see each other naked
The first time you saw each other naked wasn't in a sexual way. You were walking to your place where you wanted to cook for him before watching a movie together, but the weather had other plans.
By the time you reached your doorstep, the both of you were wet to the bones, drenched clothes forming puddles in your hallway as you tried to figure out the best way to move on about this.
"Shower?" You asked softly and nudged your head towards the bathroom, the puddle beneath your feet growing by the second.
"Ladies first" he replied with an apologetic smile-walking to the grocery store was his idea after all, so he could wait.
"And you flood my apartment in the meantime? We can shower together?" You suggested innocently, the wet fabric clinging to your skin stripping you of a clear mind. "If you don't mind... we can also stay in underw-"
Valko was already taking off his wet clothes, not needing to be asked twice to shower together.
Under the steady stream of water, his eyes never looked down your body, respecting you and not wanting to use the situation to shamelessly gawk at you... unlike you who grew familiar with his pecs and occasionally stole a glance at his abs in the meantime.
Just as the cold left your body, you cautiously stepped closer and wrapped your arms around his broad torso, causing his wet tail to splosh against the tiled wall repeatedly. One of his big hands moved to your lower back to keep you close, the other drifted to your hair to hold it against his chest in a deeply caring manner. The noise of water hitting the ground was almost drowned out by his heartbeat that thumped steadily just below your ear.
You two helped one another wash up and you blow dried his tail for him, feeling a little awkward about it but the shyness around each others body was close to non existent after sharing the shower.
── ⟢ the first time he eats you out
The first time Valko gets to eat you out, is when neither of you can keep their hands to themselves after a heated make out session. He sinks onto his knees on the floor in front of the couch you two had been sitting on and gently grabs one of your ankles where he pressed small kisses against your skin. His kisses turn messier the further up he reaches until his teeth sink into the plush of your inner thigh—The little sound you make is the most endearing sound he'd ever heard.
The scent of your arousal had been driving him to the brink of insanity before he even got between your thighs, and now that your legs were thrown over his shoulder he couldn't stop himself anymore. Valko looked up at you once more to make sure that there was no doubt in your eyes, and when you looked at him with so much need, he dove right in. He buried his nose against your panty clad folds, inhaling your scent as if it's the most holy of things — to him it is.
There was no time to take off your underwear, simply using one of his fingers to pull it to the side. The sight of your glistening folds made his wolfish ears lay flat, a sound close to a whimper escaping his throat the second he dove in to finally taste you. And when your arousal melted on his tongue? His eyes were rolling back into his skull, staying between your thighs for his own greed until you had to pry him off after perhaps one too many orgasms and flicks to your overstimulated clit.
── ⟢ the first time he knots you
The first time Valko knots you, wasn't the first time you had Sex, rather the first time he realized that he wanted this —that he wanted you— by his side as his girlfriend, not just to see where things go. You could say that this was the first time that he realized that what he feels is actually love.
He spent the night preparing you with his tongue and fingers as he usually would, his cock slipping into you so easily by the time he finally had you on your back and spread open for him with one leg thrown over his shoulder. His thrusts were much slower than the rather fast speed you've grown accustomed to but they made your toes curl from how you felt him move inside your walls.
You've talked about the possibility of him knotting you before, about what it means for him, as well as for you. So when you felt the thick knot press against your entrance repeatedly while his moans became much more breathless, you cupped his cheek and pulled him down to kiss him gently, nodding against him to let him know that this is exactly what you wanted.
The feeling of that knot bullying its way into your cunt was borderline painful, but Valko's fingers playing with your clit to help you relax took your focus off the stretch until he was finally inside. Valko's head dropped into the crook of your neck, a strangled moan of your name escaping his lips as you felt his cum painting your insides with nowhere to go.
It made you feel incredibly full, and he whispered sweet praise into your ear before flipping you around to rest on his chest. There was no rush with anything, just heavy breathing and gentle touches filling the comfortable silence. This was his form of aftercare, keeping you close and helping you catch your breath—and when the knot eventually swells off, he'd help you into the shower to clean you up, changing the sheets while you let the water cascade down your tired body.
── ⟢ the first i love you
The first time Valko told you these three words was in that very night, cuddled up in fresh sheets while snacking on some brownies.
Your head was resting on his shoulder and his tail was sweetly tucked over his and your body as if he held you close with anything he had. You barely heard him say it over the noise of your favorite movie running.
"What was that?" You asked tired, opening your tired eyes to look up at him, craning your neck to take a look at his handsome face.
"I said I love you, pancake." He smiled down at you, sharp canines showing and the sweetest, love struck look on his face.
"I love you too, Valko" you hummed and kissed his jaw ever so gently before tucking your head back under his chin where you could feel his heart hammer against his ribcage, almost at the same speed as his tail was wagging against your leg.
2,723 words * ˛ ✦ ･ Caleb spreads his palm across her stomach, feeling the subtle rise and fall of her breathing, the gentle flutter of her pulse beneath his thumb. "You have no idea," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice a low vibration that he hopes drifts into her dreams. "No idea what you do to me. Walking around this house in these little shorts, these little shirts. Do you know how many times I've had to take myself in hand in the shower, thinking about you just like this? Soft and warm and mine?"
WARNINGS: third person pov (fem!reader), alternate universe – pre-canon, canon-typical pseudo-incest, (non-consensual) somnophilia, DAA!caleb, groping, fingering, grinding, heavy dirty talk, cum-eating, pervert!caleb, panty-stealing.
The afternoon light filters through the kitchen windows in thin, golden bars that leave stripes across the worn hardwood floors, and Caleb closes the front door behind him carefully, his DAA flight jacket unzipped and hanging open over a sweat-dampened white t-shirt, the scent of jet fuel and synthetic training cockpit air still clinging to his skin. He drops his keys into the ceramic bowl on the side table—a ritual, always the same—and the sound is muffled, swallowed by the empty house.
"Gran?" he calls softly, though he already knows the answer.
The note on the front door had said it clearly enough:
Visiting Margaret. Back Sunday. Dinner in the fridge. Love, Gran.
Just him and her; just them, alone, together.
He rounds the corner into the living room and stops, his breath catching in his throat with the familiar sharpness that has become his constant companion these past few years, ever since he realized that the protective warmth in his chest had twisted into something darker, hungrier, something that wakes him in the night with his hand wrapped around himself and her name on his lips.
She is sprawled on the couch, one arm dangling off the edge, her fingers brushing the carpet, the other tucked beneath her cheek. She is smaller than him—she always has been, and she always will be—and the oversized sleep shirt she wears has ridden up to expose the soft curve of her stomach, the waistband of her sleep shorts sitting low on her hips. Her breathing is deep and even, lips parted slightly, hair fanned out across the cushion in a mess that makes his fingers twitch with the need to touch, to tangle, to pull.
Caleb stands frozen for a moment, the weight of his bag sliding from his shoulder to thud quietly against the floor, immediately forgotten in the face of this.
The house is silent except for his heart and the soft sound of her breathing.
Gran is gone for three days.
No one is watching, and no one will know.
His heart hammers against his ribs as he crosses the room, each step is deliberate, his boots are silent on the rug. He stands over her, looking down at the face he has known since childhood, the face he has watched transform from a gap-toothed child into this—this woman who haunts his every thought, his every dream, his every dirty fantasy.
She calls him gege, still, even now, even when the word feels like a brand on his skin, marking him as hers even as he marks her as his in the secret corridors of his mind.
"Gege's home," he whispers, so quietly it might be a thought rather than sound.
He cannot help it. He knows he should cover her with a blanket, retreat to his room, shower off the day, be the good brother she believes him to be. But the devil that lives in his chest—that possessive, obsessive creature that whispered to him when he locked her in the attic that one time, that urged him to eliminate anyone who looked at her too long at school—that creature stretches and purrs and demands that he pounce.
Caleb kneels beside the couch. His hand trembles as he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. She doesn't stir. Her skin is warm, flushed with sleep, and the urge to feel more of it, to drown in it, overwhelms his restraint.
An arm slides beneath her knees, the other behind her shoulders, and he lifts her effortlessly. She is light, always so light to him, and she makes a small sound—a whimper that sounds more like a sigh—that goes straight to his groin, making him ache with a sudden, painful hardness that presses against the zipper of his flight suit pants.
He settles himself onto the couch, arranging her carefully on top of him, her back against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, her legs draped over his thighs.
The position is perfect. Too perfect, in fact; her ass presses directly against the straining bulge of his cock, and he has to bite his lip to stifle a groan, his eyes falling shut as he rocks upward just slightly, just once, testing the pressure. But she settles deeper against him, trusting and pliant, her breathing unchanged.
"Good girl," he breathes against her ear, his voice barely audible. "Such a good girl for gege. Sleeping so pretty. So peaceful."
His right hand slides beneath the hem of her sleep shirt, and her skin is impossibly soft, softer than anything he has ever touched, softer than clouds or silk or the petals of the flowers he once picked for her.
Caleb spreads his palm across her stomach, feeling the subtle rise and fall of her breathing, the gentle flutter of her pulse beneath his thumb. "You have no idea," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice a low vibration that he hopes drifts into her dreams. "No idea what you do to me. Walking around this house in these little shorts, these little shirts. Do you know how many times I've had to take myself in hand in the shower, thinking about you just like this? Soft and warm and mine?"
His hand drifts upward, slowly, giving her time to wake, to protest, to stop him.
She doesn't.
A sigh escapes from her mouth instead, and she's pressing back against him, her head turning to nestle into the crook of his neck, and he takes it as permission—the only permission he needs in this moment where morality has fled and only want remains.
He finds her breast, fills his hand with the weight of it, and his vision spots at the edges. She is perfect, full and soft, her nipple a hardening peak against his touch as he brushes his thumb over it, circling, teasing. She arches into his touch in her sleep, a silent plea that makes him throb against her.
"That's it," he praises, his voice shaking with restraint. "You like that, don't you? Even in your dreams, you know it's me. You know gege is taking care of you."
Caleb pinches her nipple gently, rolling it between his fingers, and she whimpers, a sound that goes straight to his cock. He is so hard it hurts, trapped against her softness, and he grinds upward again, unable to stop himself, seeking friction even as he knows he should be still, should be careful, should not wake her to find him like this. "Look at you," he whispers, his free hand sliding down her side, tracing the curve of her hip, slipping beneath the loose waistband of her sleep shorts. "So wet already. Even asleep, your body knows. It knows who it belongs to, who has always owned it, even when I pretended to be the good brother. Fuck, baby, I was never good. I was just waiting; waiting for moments like this when I could have you without you looking at me with those eyes and seeing the monster I've become."
His fingers find her heat, slick and swollen and hot, and he has to press his face into her hair to muffle his groan.
She is drenched, absolutely soaked, and the realization that she is this wet in her sleep, that her body responds to him even in an unconscious state, shatters what little control he has left. "Jesus, look at this," he breathes, spreading her folds with two fingers, circling her clit with the lightest touch, watching her face for any sign of waking. She only breathes deeper, her hips shifting slightly, seeking more. "Soaked for me. This pretty little cunt is weeping, isn't it? Crying because it wants gege's cock. Because it knows who it belongs to."
He presses a finger inside her, slow and steady, feeling her walls clench around him, hot and tight and perfect.
She makes a sound and he freezes, his heart pounding, but her eyes remain closed, her face peaceful, lost in whatever dreamscape he has invaded.
"Good girl," he croons, beginning to move his finger, curling it to find the spot that makes her squirm, even unconscious. "Taking gege's finger so well. So tight, and so fucking perfect. You were made for this—made for me. I knew it the first time I saw you looked at me. I knew I would ruin you, ruin us; and I don't care—I don't care as long as I can have this, as long as I can feel you come apart on my hand while you dream of me."
He adds a second finger, stretching her gently, scissoring them inside her tight heat, feeling her grow wetter around his knuckles. His other hand continues to work her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple in time with the thrust of his fingers, building a rhythm that has her hips rocking now, seeking, chasing. "That's it," he encourages, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper, his own hips bucking against her ass, grinding his cock against her through his pants, seeking the friction that will send him over the edge. "Chase that pleasure. Gege's got you. Gege's giving you what you need. This is what you want, isn't it? My fingers deep inside you, fucking you open, preparing you for when I finally take you for real. When I spread you out on my bed and eat this pretty cunt until you scream, until you can't walk, until you forget your own name and only know mine."
Caleb crooks his fingers, pressing against her sweet spot, and her breath hitches, her back arching sharply. He feels her clench, feels the flutter of her walls around his fingers, and he knows she is close, so close, hovering on the edge of orgasm even in her sleep.
"Baby, my pretty baby, cum for me," he commands, his voice shaking, his own pleasure mounting, his cock pulsing with each thrust of his hips against her softness. "Cum for gege. Let me feel it. Let me feel you squeeze my fingers. Milk them like you'll milk my cock one day. Fuck, yes, that's it, good girl, such a good—"
She breaks with a keen, her body going rigid, her back bowing against his chest, her cunt clamping down on his fingers so hard he sees stars. She is beautiful in orgasm, even unconscious—mouth open, brows furrowed in pleasure. He feels her pulse around him, drawing out her peak, and he keeps fucking her through it, gentling his touch but not stopping, dragging out every aftershock until she goes limp against him, boneless and satiated, her breathing deep once more.
"Pretty," he breathes, his voice wrecked. "So fucking pretty. My good girl, my perfect girl."
But he doesn't stop—he can't.
The sight of her coming undone, the feel of her wetness coating his fingers, the pressure of her ass against his throbbing cock—it is too much. He continues to thrust his fingers, shallow and slow, milking her sensitivity, even as his other hand releases her breast and slides down to grip her hip, holding her steady as he grinds upward, seeking his own release.
"Look what you do to me," he pants against her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her skin, salty and sweet. "Look how hard you make me. Just from touching you. Just from feeling you come. Fuck, I'm going to—I'm going to—"
He buries his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo—something floral, something innocent—and lets go. His hips jerk upward, once, twice, three times, and then he is spilling into his pants with a choked groan that he barely manages to muffle, his cock pulsing in waves of pleasure that make his vision go white at the edges. It is messy and shameful, feeling the wet heat spreading in his underwear, but he doesn't care.
When it is over, when he can breathe again, when his heart slows from its frantic hammering, he carefully withdraws his fingers from her.
They are coated in her arousal, glistening in the afternoon light, and without thinking—without the ability to stop himself—he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean, groaning at the taste of her, sweet and musky and perfect.
He needs more, and he needs to taste her straight from the source.
Caleb shifts carefully, manoeuvring her limp body until she is lying on her back on the couch, her head turned to the side, her legs parted slightly. He kneels between her thighs, his hands trembling as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her sleep shorts and her underwear—both soaked through, both ruined—and slides them down her legs, lifting her feet one by one to free the fabric completely.
She is exposed to him now, her sex glistening and swollen from her orgasm, pink and perfect and his. He stares for a long moment, memorizing the sight, filing it away in the vault of his obsession where he keeps every stolen moment, every glimpse of skin.
"Gege needs to taste," he whispers, more to himself than to her. "Just once. Just this once."
He leans forward, his hands spreading her thighs wider, and presses his mouth to her. She tastes like heaven, like sin, like everything he has ever wanted and cannot have. He laps at her slowly, licking up her folds, circling her clit with his tongue, cleaning away the evidence of her pleasure and his own transgression. She is sensitive, twitching beneath his mouth, making small sounds that drive him wild, but she does not wake. She is too far gone, too deep in sleep, too trusting that she is safe in her own home.
If only she knew; if only she knew that her brother is currently between her legs, feasting on her like a starving man, his cock already stirring again in his wet pants, desperate for more.
Caleb kisses her there—her glossy cunt, her perfect sex—and whispers against her folds, "Goodnight, my love. Sweet dreams of gege."
He lingers for one more moment, pressing a final kiss to her clit, feeling her shudder, before he forces himself to pull back. He cannot leave her like this, exposed and messy. He retrieves a warm washcloth from the bathroom, returns to clean her gently, thoroughly, wiping away every trace of his touch, his mouth, her own arousal.
She sighs in her sleep, peaceful, sated.
From his room, he retrieves a fresh pair of her panties—not the sexy kind, but the soft cotton ones she wears to bed, the ones he has imagined peeling off her a thousand times—and a clean pair of sleep shorts. He dresses her carefully, lifting her hips, sliding the fabric up her legs, tucking her back into her clothes as if nothing has happened, as if he hasn't just defiled her in the most intimate ways while she slept.
He stands back to survey his work. She looks innocent again, untouched, her breathing steady, her face relaxed. No one would know. No one but him.
And the trophies he has taken.
Caleb picks up her discarded underwear and sleep shorts from where he dropped them on the floor. The cotton is drenched, heavy with her scent, with her arousal, with the evidence of what he has done to her. He brings them to his face, inhaling deeply, his cock twitching one last time, and then he folds them carefully and slips them into the pocket of his flight jacket.
They are his now, his treasure. The first of many, he knows.
He lifts her again, cradling her against his chest, and carries her to her bedroom, laying her down on her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. He stands over her for a long moment, watching her sleep, his hand in his pocket, fingers brushing the damp fabric he has stolen.
"Soon," he promises softly. "Soon you'll wake up. And you'll know. And you'll want it too."
He leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead, then her lips—chaste, but possessive.
"I love you," he whispers. "My little sister. My girl. Mine."
SAINT'S NOTES ! originally uploaded in the server back in the 31st of may, before the entire shitshow and my decision to move past canon content, so don't quote me on this lol—past me was idealistic about this game while present me simply does not give anymore fucks about it.
❕cw: pseudo-incest, emetophilia, degradation, blowjob, mentions of violence
⭑.ᐟ
his sideway glance is enough to set off sirens. her heart thuds against her ribcage, throat tightening. clammy palms clasp onto his chest, nails digging into the thick fabric of his uniform. it’s stiff and smells coppery mixed with aftershave. a pitiful attempt of masking it up.
“caleb. god, caleb, tell me you didn’t.”
his tongue prods against his cheek, a cruel look with ill intentions settling into his features. her sobs grow increasingly louder with each passing second.
caleb had done many terrible things before and he would continue to do so. regardless, the blow would never soften. throwing himself against the concrete wall behind him, his gloved hand tiredly runs down his face. like he’s already sick of the conversation.
"answer me." she curses the waver in her voice.
“i would do anything for you,” he stalks forward “i will do anything for you.”
leather fingers graze the surface of her cheek tenderly. then, he pushes out a resignedly bitter laugh.
“if that’s what it takes,” he doesn’t pause as he grips her neck and tears open her blouse “but it goes much deeper than… this.”
a few buttons fall to the hardwood beneath her, lost and never to be found. she gasps as his mouth sinks onto her pulse, teeth imprinting her skin. without a thought, she releases a moan. it betrays her every instinct to push him away, to keep interrogating.
he’s always looked so attractive like this— felt so incredibly sensual after something so awful.
“i don’t care. i don’t care.” the words sound false as soon as they leave her lips, immediately being cut off by thick digits being stuffed into her mouth like a gag on a hostage.
two of them dip down the center of her tongue, stroking until she chokes. her body shutters in retribution, but he furthers his assault. nausea travels from the back of her esophagus to where his fingertips rest, saliva oozing downward onto her chin.
it's vile and humiliating, the way she’s left to pant like a dog in a hot car, still sucking on the index of his hand. when he retracts them, he hums in approval and thumbs a tear away.
“say you care.”
“i-i care.”
“i would do anything for you.” caleb repeats more sternly.
sex is an odd thing with her brother. first he strips her bare, makes her sit with her own naked, disgusting truth. covers her in it, then rewards her with his own. two ideals meeting halfway. a yin and yang.
in reality, she does care. a sick, twisted part of her wants him to be brutal. to decimate any threat to their relationship, all because he can. because he can’t stand the thought of death separating them for the second time. being a hunter had conditioned her to be selfless and the hero. caleb had always taught the opposite, to let her carnal desires take hold.
“i want you. i need you— now.” she mewls, knees crashing onto the floor and sodden mouth hovering at his clothed erection.
he brushes away stray hairs on her sweaty forehead, an insidious look gleaming in his eyes when she unsheathes his cock. it stands tall and proud against her cheek, the tip poking at her left dimple.
“you like it.” his taunts are only a catalyst for her arousal.
suddenly, his cock buries deep inside her mouth, barely moving and holding it there like it’s something to keep himself nice and warm in. the size of him is overwhelming and her nose burns at the sensation of needing to breathe. she claws at his hips to seek for any mercy he may give.
caleb only chuckles at her struggle, impaling her by bucking his hips impossibly harder, pubes brushing against her skin and veins on his adonis belt pulsing. bile comes up at the same time he releases inside of her, an ugly sound tearing from her chest as he begins to finally thrust in and out of her.
"s'fuckin' sexy." his voice is so low she almost misses it.
it seeps around the corners of her mouth and patters onto the ground, thick and unhurried. caleb doesn’t give a fuck, just keeps riding his orgasm out until he’s satisfied at completely dismantling her.
“my baby sister is just as filthy as me.” he pulls out abruptly.
her cheeks flush at the sight of her vomit coating his shaft, the way it travels down his balls and into his trousers. it's not much of anything, void of food and almost purely swallowed saliva mixed with his semen. it froths as he continues to stroke himself with it, still hard and needing more.
she’s sobbing now (with embarrassment or need, she’s not quite sure), mouth agape and still gagging on the phantom feeling of his cock. he taps the head of his length once, then twice against the flat of her wet muscle, groaning out in ecstasy as he ejaculates once more.
“i could keep going, just like this, forever. i wouldn’t feel any remorse— for killing, i mean. as long as you’re by my side, it’s worth it. you’re worth it.”
his love is an illness that goes beyond physical. one she would gladly choke on if it kept her under his towering body, ripe for the taking.
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 🧎🏻♀️🫣
You stirred awake to a warm hand caressing your bare skin. With your back pressed flush against his chest, you felt him tighten his grip, pulling you even closer into himself with an arm around your waist.
“Ko…” you murmured, still caught in sleep.
“Mmhhhhm,” his voice rumbled against your skin, heavy and thick with exhaustion, sending a wave of goosebumps trailing down your neck.
A lazy roll of his hips made you both wince softly as the angle of him caught against your walls. Your hole was still sore from last night, after you both fell asleep with him knotted inside you for hours.
“Good mornin,’ pretty girl,” he muttered, pressing slow, sleepy kisses into the sensitive curve of your neck. You let out a soft hum of contentment, melting back into him.
Without warning, though, his fingers curled around your hip and tugged you back onto his cock. “Ah–”
“Shh,” he breathed against your ear. “Go back to sleep, pup. Let me use you for a bit.”
If anyone else told you the big bad wolf Valko was a virgin, you would’ve laughed in their face.
But here he was, your Valko, hovering over you in his bed, ears twitching, tail thumping nervously against the mattress as he tried (and failed) to look collected.
“You’re sure?” he asked again, voice low and rough, one hand trembling slightly where it gripped your hip. His cock was heavy and flushed against your thigh, leaking steadily just from kissing and grinding. “We can stop anytime. I don’t… I don’t really know what I’m doing. I’ve never-“
You cupped his face, pulling him down into a slow, deep kiss until he melted against you with a soft rumble.
“I want this,” you whispered against his lips. “I want you. Right now.”
He made a broken sound and nodded, forehead pressed to yours as he lined himself up. The blunt head of his cock nudged against your entrance and your eyes widened.
Holy fuck.
You were just realising how big he was. Thicker and longer than you expected, the sheer size of him making your thighs tremble before he even pushed in.
Valko noticed your reaction immediately. “Too much?” he asked, voice tight with worry, ears flattening. “We can-“
“Don’t you dare stop,” you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Just… go slow.”
He swallowed hard and pushed forward.
The stretch had your eyes fluttering shut. You gasped as he sank in inch by inch, moving slowly and carefully, his jaw clenched like he was fighting every instinct to thrust hard. His hands gripped the sheets on either side of your head, trembling.
“Fuck… you’re so tight,” he groaned, voice cracking. “So warm… all mine…”
He bottomed out with a soft, trembling whimper, buried to the hilt. For a moment he just stayed there, shaking, breathing hard against your neck.
“Am I… am I doing okay?” he asked shakily, clearly unsure. “Tell me if it hurts. Please.”
“You’re perfect,” you moaned, nails digging into his shoulders. “Move, Valko- please.”
He started moving. Slow, experimental thrusts at first, learning your body with every roll of his hips. But the second he found the angle that made you cry out and clench around him, instinct took over.
His pace picked up, moving with more vigor and intent, hips snapping forward with growing confidence even as he kept checking in.
You could barely understand the question. Your mind was spinning, body burning with pleasure as he fucked you so deep you felt him in your stomach. He was so thick, stretching you open so perfectly, and every thrust made you see stars.
“So good- fuck, Valko- don’t stop-“ you babbled, head thrown back, completely cockdrunk. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him like you never wanted him to leave.
Valko groaned, the sound raw and desperate. He didn’t expect it to feel this good. So tight. So warm. Gripping him like your pussy was made for him.
“Shit- you feel incredible,” he growled, hips losing rhythm as instinct completely took over. “So wet… so perfect for me…”
Then he felt it.
Something swelling at the base of his cock. His knot.
His eyes widened in surprise. “Wait- wait- I’ve never-“ He tried to pull back slightly but your legs locked tighter around him.
“Don’t- inside,” you gasped, so far gone you could barely think. “Please, Valko-“
He couldn’t hold back. With a broken moan he pushed deep and let it happen. His knot swelled, locking him inside you as he came hard, pulsing hot and thick, filling you up more than you thought possible.
The feeling of his knot stretching you, locking you together, sent you over the edge again with a cry of his name.
Valko collapsed on top of you, careful even in his haze, arms wrapping tight around your body as he shuddered through the aftershocks. His tail curled around your leg. His face stayed buried in your neck, breathing you in like you were oxygen.
“Was that… okay?” he mumbled shyly after a long moment, ears still slightly lowered even as his knot kept you tied together. “I didn’t expect… that. I’ve never… fuck, you felt too good. I couldn’t stop.”
You laughed breathlessly, fingers threading through his hair as you kissed the top of his head.
“You were perfect,” you whispered, still trembling around him. “My good boy.”
He huffed softly, but the way he nuzzled deeper into you, rumbling happily, said everything.
You and Caleb are accidentally hurled two years into the future, straight into his apartment. Trapped in a closet, you’re forced to watch your future selves fuck like they’ve been starving for each other.
The art that inspired this fic: https://x.com/i/status/2077008975359525093
The heat at Grandma's house during peak summer was its own particular brand of suffering. It wasn't the same as the sharp dry heat of the city, this was heavy and wet and it made the air taste like cut grass and warm concrete. By ten in the morning you'd already sweated through your first shirt. By noon you'd given up on doing anything productive.
Which was how you and Caleb ended up in the kitchen at two in the afternoon, arguing about stupid stuff, because there was nothing else to do.
"We're out of green onions," he announced with his head inside the fridge. "And ginger. Grandma said we have to buy soy sauce and it has to be the right brand."
"Which brand?"
He turned around with an expression that said he had absolutely no idea.
"Great," you said. "Really helpful."
"She showed me once. It has a red label. Or maybe yellow." He pulled out a tote bag from the cabinet and dropped it on the counter in your direction. "We'll figure it out when we're there."
"The market is a fifteen minute walk in this heat."
"Then we should leave now."
"Caleb—"
He was already heading for the door. "Come on."
You grabbed the bag and your sunglasses and followed him out into the heat, which hit you like a wall the second you stepped off the porch.
The neighborhood was quiet on summer afternoons, everyone wanted to be inside with their fans on. You walked beside Caleb through streets you'd both known since childhood, past the park, past the corner ice cream store with the faded awning, past Mrs. Yuen's house with the wind chimes that had been making the same sound for fifteen years.
He was telling you about an incident with a new recruit that had happened at a training exercise last month and you were laughing.
"Did he get hurt?" you managed.
"Bruised his ego more than anything." Caleb pushed your sunglasses up. "Poor guy spent the rest of the session pretending it hadn't happened."
The market was cool and smelled like the same brand of air freshener they'd been using since you were ten. You grabbed a basket and split off toward the vegetables while Caleb wandered in the direction of the snack aisle, which —you'd learned over years of shared grocery runs— meant you were going to spend the next several minutes complaining about his choices.
You found the green onions. Found the ginger. Turned the corner into the snack aisle and found Caleb standing in front of the chips with two bags in his hands, deliberating.
"We don't need chips," you said.
"Yes we do."
"We have food at home."
"Chips are not food, chips are a separate category." He held them both up. "Salt and vinegar or barbecue."
"Neither. We're here for dinner ingredients."
"And chips." He put the barbecue in the basket.
You took it out. He put it back in.
"Caleb."
"It's for the walk home. You'll want some on the walk home."
"You are so—" You stopped, pointed at his chest. "Fine. One bag. And you're carrying it."
He was already reaching for a second one.
"One bag."
"Salt and vinegar for you, barbecue for me. That's technically one bag each which is—"
"That's two bags."
"One per person."
You let him keep both bags because the alternative was standing in the snack aisle for another five minutes.
The soy sauce took longer. You found the section, found approximately ten different brands, and stood there for a moment in silence.
"Red label or yellow?" you said.
"I said I wasn't sure."
"You said you'd seen it."
"I'd seen it, I didn't memorize it."
"Caleb, if we get the wrong one—"
He picked one up, turned it over, put it back. Picked up another. "This one looks right."
He put it in the basket and you picked up a different one, compared the labels side by side, and put his back and kept yours.
He switched them back the moment you turned away.
------
You were outside, bag on Caleb's shoulder, chips already open when your hunter's watch went off.
The sound cut straight through everything. Your hand was in the chip bag one second and at your holster the next, the muscle memory of it faster than conscious thought. The screen had gone red.
Wanderer detected. Class: High energy anomaly. Proximity: 100 meters.
Caleb stepped in close "Behind the market. Let's go."
You were already moving.
---
The alley ran behind a row of shops, narrow and shadowed, the air warping at the far end and that meant the Wanderer had already been there long enough to disturb local reality. You pulled your gun and kept your back to the wall, moving fast. Caleb came in on the other side, gravity already building at his hands, the air around his knuckles bending in a way that meant he was ready.
The Wanderer was enormous, the geometry of it not quite making sense no matter which angle you looked from. It moved fast for something that size, swinging a limb in your direction before you'd fully cleared the corner.
You fired twice. The shots connected and it shrieked, momentum redirected enough that the hit meant for you shattered a section of wall instead.
"Flank!" Caleb called.
You were already going wide. He pulled gravity in from the left, compressing the Wanderer's movement, slowing it just enough for you to get behind it and put three more shots into the joint where two of its limbs connected. It screamed and lurched sideways.
"Keep it off the street," you yelled over the noise.
"Working on it." He dragged it backward with a gravity pull that made the pavement crack under the force of it, steering it further into the alley.
It was not a clean fight. It kept redirecting, slamming into the walls, filling the alley with debris that you had to dodge while maintaining your sight lines.
Eventually the thing started to slow. Eventually it disappeared.
Then you saw it.
On the ground where the Wanderer had dissolved — a Protocore, small, throwing off an iridescent white that you'd never seen from a Wanderer before.
"That's not standard," Caleb said, coming to stand beside you. He crouched down to look at it without touching it. "I've never seen one this color."
"Me neither." You holstered your gun. "I should take it to HQ."
"Agreed." You crouched beside him, reaching for the core at the same time he did, and your hands closed around it simultaneously.
White light erupted.
It collapsed inward, pulling everything —sound, light, air, the alley— into a point of white noise and wind, and then nothing, a few seconds later there was a floor coming up very fast.
You hit the carpet with a thud that knocked the breath out of you.
Caleb landed beside you, one arm slamming down to catch his weight before he pushed himself up.
"Are you hurt," he said, breathing hard.
You did a fast inventory. "No. You?"
"No." He looked up. Looked around.
You were inside a huge apartment. Carpeted floor and warm light from the windows. A long couch. A coffee table with papers on it. A mug. A jacket draped over the back of a chair.
Someone's apartment.
You stood up slowly. Caleb was already at the bookshelf, and you followed, and then you saw the first photo and everything in your chest felt strange.
It was you. You and Caleb, standing somewhere sunny, laughing at something out of frame. You were wearing a jacket you didn't own. His hair was slightly different, grown out and pushed back.
There were more. The two of you at a restaurant, faces close across a small table. A shot of you asleep on a couch, and Caleb sitting at the other end with a book, but whoever had taken the photo had caught him looking at you and not at the page.
Your throat felt tight.
"This is my apartment," Caleb said quietly, from somewhere to your left.
You turned to look at him. He was looking at the leather jacket on the chair. His leather jacket, the one currently in his wardrobe back at the base. A pilot's manual on the shelf, the same one he'd been working through. A mug from the Farspace Fleet. A framed photo of your grandmother that matched the one at home.
"The photos—" you started.
"I know."
He crossed to the coffee table, picked up the newspaper and scanned the top page. He held it out.
The date at the top was two years from now. Exactly two years.
---
You spent the rest of the afternoon going through the apartment with careful attention, very aware you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be. You were trying to understand what the last two years had produced.
Caleb's future self left notes everywhere. Fridge, desk, bathroom mirror. His handwriting but with a different quality to it, more settled. There were more photos than you'd first noticed — tucked into the edges of the mirror in the hallway, stuck to the inside of a cabinet. A birthday card in your handwriting on the desk, standing open. A second toothbrush in the bathroom.
You both looked at that for a moment.
"I'm not going to say anything about any of this," you said finally, standing in the kitchen with your arms crossed.
"Good call," Caleb said, from the doorway.
"I'm —this is a lot of information."
"It is."
"And I'm not drawing any conclusions."
He went quiet.
The sun went down. The apartment went from warm gold to dark while you sat on the floor of the living room eating crackers you'd found in the cabinet, your backs against the couch, the Protocore sitting on the coffee table throwing faint white light across the ceiling.
"We'll figure out how to get back," Caleb said.
"I know."
"Same energy that brought us here should be able to—"
"Caleb, I know. I'm not panicking."
He looked at you sideways. "You're quieter than your normal quiet."
"I'm just thinking."
He nodded slowly. Ate a cracker. Didn't push it, he knew when to let something sit. Almost two decades of knowing each other and he'd learned exactly where the lines were.
You were about to say something else when you heard it.
Voices outside.
Both of you were on your feet before the door handle moved. Caleb stepped toward the entryway on pure instinct and you grabbed his arm with both hands and pulled.
"Don't," you said, low and fast.
"I just want to see—"
"You cannot make contact with yourself. Do you understand what that does to the timeline? Do you understand what happens if you alter something?"
"I wasn't going to —"
"Caleb." You got in front of him, hands on his chest, looking up at him with full seriousness. "We hide. Right now. We have to wait."
He looked at the door. The handle was starting to move.
"Fine," he said before he grabbed the protocore and then your wrist to pull you toward the hallway closet in two long strides, opening it fast and pulling you in after him, easing the door shut.
The closet was full. Coats, bags, a stack of boxes on the floor that immediately became a problem because you had nowhere to step back, which meant you were now pressed against Caleb from your shoulders to your knees.
You could feel every breath he took.
"This is very small," you whispered.
"I know," he said, directly behind your ear.
His arms were on either side of you because there was nowhere else for them. His chin was above your head. You could feel him making adjustments to keep whatever minimal distance physics was willing to offer, and it was working as well as you'd expect. Which was not well.
You were two childhood friends in a closet in an apartment that was apparently his, two years in the future, surrounded by photographic evidence of something neither of you had said out loud yet, and he was doing his very best not to press against you and his very best was losing badly to the laws of spatial reasoning.
The front door opened.
Through the slats of the closet door, the living room light clicked on.
"I told you." Your own voice, but looser, threaded through with laughter that had a very specific quality to it. "I told you we shouldn't have had that last drink."
"Yeah," came the reply. Caleb's voice, except it was rougher and stripped of the easy warmth you knew and replaced with something that made the back of your neck prickle. "You were flirting with the bartender just to watch me lose it."
"Maybe I was." Future you sounded unrepentant about this.
Through the slats you watched two people stumble into the living room and your brain took several seconds to process what your eyes were seeing. She was in a dress, form fitting, gorgeous, currently half unzipped down the back. Future Caleb had shed his jacket somewhere between the door and the living room, his shirt untucked with half the buttons open, chest visible, hair slightly wrecked.
Behind you, Caleb had gone completely rigid. You felt it happen, every muscle in his body locking up at once.
Then future Caleb grabbed future you by the waist and walked her backward into the living room wall.
The impact was loud. What followed was louder, the sound of them kissing, which was not the word for what was happening, kissing implied something with more restraint than this. Future Caleb had his hands in her hair and on her waist and sliding down to bunch the fabric of her dress up her thighs, all at the same time.
You made a sound you hadn't planned on making.
Caleb's hand came over your mouth so fast you didn't even see it coming, his palm pressing firm and warm against your lips, his forearm across your collarbone. His chest was heaving against your back and something else was pressing against the small of your back that you were both absolutely not acknowledging.
You made a muffled sound against his hand anyway.
His arm tightened.
Future Caleb pulled back just far enough to speak "You want to play games tonight?" A pause, heavy with intent. "Let's find out how loud I can make you scream."
He pushed his hand up her skirt.
You'd never made that sound in your life. Or apparently you would. In two years. Against that wall.
"Caleb—wait, wait—the couch—"
That was it. That was enough. Your hand shot out in the dark and found the closet door handle and you grabbed it.
Caleb's hand came off your mouth and closed around your wrist, pulling it back against you, his mouth dropping to your ear.
"Don't you dare," he breathed.
"We have to stop watching this—" you hissed.
"If you open that door they'll see us—"
"Then they see us—"
"And alter the timeline," he said. "Your words. Two minutes ago."
He was right and it was the worst possible moment for him to be right.
"Just—" His voice came out strained "Just don't move."
"Caleb—"
"I'm a guy, and you are literally grinding into me," he snapped softly, though there was no real anger in it. His forehead dropped briefly to the back of your head. "Just..." sigh "give me a second."
Outside the closet Caleb lifted her clean off the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her the few steps to the couch and dropped her onto it.
His hands yanked the straps of her dress down, baring her breasts. He pinched a nipple, and she arched with a sharp cry. "You are so fucking wet already. Been thinking about my cock all day? Want me to stretch that pretty pussy out right here?"
"Yes—fuck, Caleb, touch me," she gasped, hips grinding up.
Your breath hitched. Heat flooded between your legs, sudden and embarrassing. Caleb's cock twitched against your ass and you had to bite your lip to stay quiet.
Future Caleb reached down and shoved his pants off. You couldn't look away. He was big, thick, flushed, veins standing out. Ready.
Panic hit you. "Don't look," you whispered frantically. "That's... me. Turn around or do something—"
"Like hell," he said against your ear, teeth grazing the shell. "You're the one staring. You like seeing him like that? Seeing what I— what he wants to do to you?"
"Caleb, shut up," you whimpered, thighs pressing together.
He didn't fuck her right away. He grabbed her ankles, yanked her to the edge of the couch, and spread her wide. Dropped to his knees.
"Caleb—" she started, but it dissolved into a broken moan as he buried his face between her legs.
The sound of his tongue working her was loud and messy, completely shameless. Her head dropped back against the cushions, fingers twisted tight into the fabric, her whole body shaking every time he dragged his tongue over her clit in greedy strokes. He licked broad stripes up her slit before focusing on her clit again, sucking it into his mouth with a low groan.
"Fuck, you taste so good,”Caleb growled against her pussy, voice muffled but clear enough to carry.
"Just like that baby” she moaned, one hand fisting his hair, the other still twisting in the couch cushion.
He pinched her nipple hard with his free hand, rolling it between his fingers as he sucked harder. Her thighs trembled around his head.
Behind you, Caleb let out a broken groan that made your knees go soft. His arm snapped around your waist, holding you steady, fingers digging into your hip the exact same way his future self was gripping her out there.
“Fuck,” you whispered, head falling back against his shoulder before you could stop yourself. Your pussy was throbbing, aching so bad it almost hurt.
“Listen to that. Listen to how wet you get for me.” Caleb shifted his hips, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your ass through your jeans, dragging the seam right over your soaked cunt.
On the couch, she was losing it. "I need you inside me. I can’t wait anymore.”
Future Caleb pulled back, mouth shiny, breathing hard. He stroked himself once, twice, then lined up and drove into her in one rough thrust. Her legs wrapped around him as he started fucking her deep and hard, the couch creaking like it might give out any second. His back and ass flexed with every thrust, hips snapping forward. “Gonna come on my cock like a good girl?”
He leaned over her, one hand pinning her thigh higher as he fucked her. “Gonna fill you up. Want you leaking my cum the rest of the night. You love being my dirty little slut, don’t you? Say it.”
“Oh my god,” you choked, voice barely there. Watching yourself get railed like that—by him—was too much. The guy whose arms were currently locked around your waist, the same guy you’d known since you were kids, was pounding into a future version of you like he owned her.
She gasped between moans, nails now digging into his back. “Yes—your slut, Caleb—harder—”
“That’s my girl.” His hips snapped faster “Come on my cock like you did last night."
In the closet, Caleb’s forehead dropped to your shoulder, his cock twitched hard against your ass, hips making tiny, helpless thrusts.
You couldn’t tear your eyes away, every filthy word making the ache between your legs worse.
“Jesus,” Caleb whispered raggedly “We really talk like that?”
You twisted hard, trying to turn around in the cramped space so you wouldn’t have to see it anymore.
“Stop moving,” Caleb gasped, his control fraying fast as your ass rubbed right over the head of his cock.
“I can’t watch this—let me turn—”
Your foot caught on a heavy boot buried in the mess at the bottom of the closet. Balance gone.
“Whoa—” Caleb grabbed for you, but it was too late. Your combined weight slammed into the door.
The cheap magnetic latch popped open with a sad little click.
The squeaking of the couch cut off like someone had yanked the plug on the whole universe.
The silence that followed rang in your ears. You pushed up on your elbows, face so hot you were surprised you hadn’t spontaneously combusted. Caleb was beside you, shirt rucked up, the very obvious, very hard line of his erection pressing against your thigh.
You both slowly turned your heads toward the couch.
A few meters away, future Caleb was frozen mid thrust, hands locked on future you’s hips, his body still buried deep inside her. She had one leg hooked high around his waist, hair a wild mess, chest heaving. Both of them stared at you with identical expressions of what the actual fuck.
They were a sweaty, flushed disaster, very naked and very, very mid fuck.
“What the…” future Caleb started.
Future you blinked slowly. “Is that… us?”
You opened your mouth, brain offering the most useless sentence in history. “We were just looking for soy sauce—”
The white light from the Protocore exploded again. The apartment, the couch, your naked and extremely confused future selves—all of it ripped away in a roar of rushing air.
Thud.
You hit the dirty alley hard enough to knock the wind out of you again.
Caleb groaned beside you, flat on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. His chest rose and fell in sharp pulls. You could still feel the ghost of his hardness against you, the way his fingers had dug into your hip in the closet. Your own body was still buzzing, thighs slick, pulse pounding between your legs like a second heartbeat.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then Caleb let out a shaky laugh that sounded half hysterical. “Soy sauce. Really?”
You rolled onto your side, wincing at the scrapes on your elbows. “It was the first thing that came to mind, okay? We just watched ourselves— I mean, they— we were—” You gestured vaguely, face burning all over again. “You know.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”
He sat up slowly and ran a hand through his hair. The front of his shorts was still a bit tented. He didn’t bother trying to hide it. You weren’t exactly in a position to judge, your nipples were tight against your shirt, and you were pretty sure your face was the color of a ripe tomato.
The protocore gave one last weak shimmer and dissolved into harmless blue dust that scattered across the pavement.
Caleb looked at you. “So… two years from now, huh?”
You swallowed. “Apparently we, uh… figured some things out.”
He huffed another laugh, but it was softer this time. Almost wondering. He reached over and brushed a bit of alley dirt off your cheek with his thumb. The touch lingered.
“We should probably go”
You nodded, but neither of you stood up right away. The air between you felt thicker than the summer humidity, charged with everything you’d just seen and felt in that stupid closet.
Caleb’s gaze dropped to your mouth for a second, then flicked back up. “When we get back to the house…”
“Yeah?” you whispered.
He smiled, small and crooked and a little nervous, the same smile he’d given you a thousand times growing up, except this one felt different.
“I’m not waiting two years,” he said.
Your heart did something complicated in your chest.
You grabbed his hand, pulled him up with you, and the two of you started walking out of the alley like nothing had happened.
But everything had happened.
And as your fingers brushed again while you walked, neither of you pulled away.
18+ mdni | finding caleb’s old journal wasn’t anything exciting, but seeing that he wanted you in ways you never thought of definitely was.
TW. grief, invasion of privacy fr, titty sucking!!!, p in v, raw, USE OF GEGE
after josephine passed, you took it upon yourself to sort through her belongings, carefully organizing everything into keep, donate, and trash piles. the work seemed doable, easy even—the distance naturally strained your relationship after you moved out, so you felt apathetic more than anything when you heard the news.
once you started though, it was obvious you’d been mistaken. every item brought back a flood of memories, pulling you further into the past. it felt as though a piece of you had gone missing with her, thoughts drifting back to the woman who raised you.
you weren’t only mourning her death, you were mourning the life that existed while she was still here—the familiar routines, the warmth of home, the childhood you shared with caleb. all those years spent growing up side by side, finding your way through the world together no matter which paths you eventually chose for yourselves.
pivotal moments of your life flashed through your mind, both caleb and josephine present for every one of them. before you even realized it, tears began to streak down your face. you swiped at your cheeks, trying to brush away the wetness to no avail. each drop was followed by several more, staining your top as you shrunk into yourself. you scrambled for your phone, immediately thinking to call caleb as your sniffles turned into sobs. your chest heaved with each ring, waiting for the familiar click that meant he’d answered the phone.
“hey pips”
his voice soothed you, calming you enough to stutter out ramblings of how you thought you didn’t care that she was gone, that this would be easy. he listened as you spoke tenderly about your late caregiver, forgiving her for wrongdoings you couldn’t look past when she was still here. once your voice began to trail off, he finally responded.
“my girl’s all grown up now”, he chuckled, proud of how mature you sounded even as you cried between each word. “i know how conflicting it is. wasn’t even sure if i wanted to come back when i remembered everything, but im not gonna leave you to do this alone”. you nodded your head, forgetting he couldn’t see you. the two of you exchanged a few more words before saying h e would be there in a couple of hours, asking you to wait until he arrived before continuing. “let the grief settle, we’ll do this together.”
you sat with the silence for a few minutes, simply taking it all in. deciding fresh air would help you reset, you moved to open a window. cool air rushed in, brushing against your face and easing the tightness in your chest. when you turned back to the room, the mess was exactly where you’d left it. boxes, papers, and memories piled around you. with a quiet sigh, you returned to work, knowing it needed to be done.
most of the afternoon passed in silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of paper and creak of old floorboards. boxes that hadn’t been touched in years were stacked around you, their contents carrying the scent of dust and time. you had just started working through a box labelled ‘caleb’s stuff’ when a particularly harsh gust of wind scattered old photographs and school papers across the room, revealing a worn notebook buried beneath them. years in storage had torn at its edges, wrinkling the cover and creasing the pages inside. its condition nearly led you to throw it out until your fingers stilled when you recognized the familiar cursive of caleb’s name sprawled across the side. you quickly flipped through the pages, dust blowing into your face as you realized it was his journal.
you knew you shouldn’t read it. the thought alone should’ve been enough to make you close it and put it where you’d found it. instead, you stared down at the worn cover resting in your lap.
before you could convince yourself otherwise, you were already turning to the first page.
property of caleb xia
his contact info was written below it, DAA email hinting at how long ago it was.
the first few pages were exactly what you’d expected—complaints about school, notes about training, little observations about his day. some of them even made you laugh, hearing his voice so clearly despite the years that had passed.
you almost snapped a picture to tease him with when an entry mentioning you caught your eye.
today she stole half my fries and acted like i was the one robbing her. i put up a fight just to see her get annoyed.
a smile tugged at your lips.
she fell asleep on the couch again. gran told me to wake her up, but i think she’s more comfortable here bc of the storm.
your fingers paused against the page.
i don’t think she realizes how pretty she looks when she’s talking about something she likes.
her eyes get all big and she can barely make it through one story before going on a tangent about something else. i wanted to kiss her so bad that i had to kick her out using ‘homework’ as an excuse.
you reread the entry once, twice, three times, looking for hints it was about someone else. the further you read though, the harder it became to convince yourself you were misunderstanding, because the entries didn’t stop—every page only made it clearer.
gideon stayed for dinner and i saw her bite her lip when he talked about how much she’d grown. pissed me off. i say it allll the fucking time but she never blushes with me.
then, an entry from two days later.
came home from the gym and was telling her about my pr when she came out of the shower wearing MY shirt. wasn’t even a clean one too, probably picked up the first one she saw. christ, sometimes i feel like she WANTS me to just bend her over and—
your attention was ripped from the journal as your phone rang. caleb’s name flashed on the screen for a minute before you picked it up with shaking fingers.
“h-hello?” your voice trembled, somehow convinced he could hear the guilt and immediately clock what you’d been doing.
“hey pips. gonna be a bit late, weather started to get bad so my ride got delayed”
your eyes drifted back to the journal as you listened, humming every so often to pretend you were paying attention.
“you have the key right?” you asked, listening for confirmation. “i’m probably gonna clean a bit more then shower, just let yourself in whenever”.
the two of you exchanged pleasantries before he finally let you go, your device vibrating with a follow up message from him saying he “can’t wait to see you”. you meant to respond, but the journal weighed heavy in your lap. you threw your phone to the side and laid back with the journal in your hands, trying to immerse yourself into past caleb’s mindset.
finally spring break. was so tired the first day back but she begged me to take her to the beach. i genuinely almost came on the spot when i saw the purple bikini she chose.
you felt heat bloom between your legs at the first truly explicit comment, heart racing as you skipped to the next passage.
last day off so we had a movie night. i turned on sinister bc of the jumpscares and every single one had her pushing up against me. haven’t even been hiding how hard i am lately so i wonder if she does it on purpose? like does she get wet teasing me like that??? bet it tastes so good from the source, idk what i’m gonna do when i won’t even have her panties w me back at the academy.
sometimes i feel like she wants me to make the first move but i dont wanna lose her if im wrong.
i wish i didnt have to go back.
i wish she could come with me.
i wish we were more than we are right now.
the last few sentences made your heart ache, the yearning and pure adoration he felt evident with every word. you knew you should’ve stopped reading ages ago, but still you found yourself turning the page, barely registering the sound of the front door unlocking.
“pips?”
your head snapped up as his voice carried through the house, footsteps climbing the staircase.
“are you still up here baby?” he called, “thought you would’ve gone to bed?”
panic shot through you as your eyes darted around the attic, searching for anywhere to hide the journal. the worn notebook nearly slipped from your hands as you scrambled to think.
his footsteps got louder while you briefly considered shoving it down your pants. before you could commit to the idea though, caleb appeared at the top of the ladder, still dressed in his colonel uniform.
“hi sweet girl” he murmured, a fond smile forming on his face. he walked towards where you’d gotten comfortable, crouching down to ruffle your hair. “how come you’re still awake?”
your mouth opened, then closed again, hands tightly gripping the journal.
“um, was tryna clean so we had more time to just hang out” you managed, hoping he believed the lame response.
his expression softened instantly, a gloved hand coming to cup your cheek.
“you sap”, he laughed, standing to his full height and reaching out a hand. “let’s get ready for bed, we’ll do this tomorrow, yeah?”
you nodded, slipping your hand into his. the second his attention drifted, you tossed the journal into the darkest corner of the attic, a dull thump echoing across the room.
thankfully, old houses were always making noises, so if caleb noticed, he didn’t say anything. he simply squeezed your hand and guided you towards the ladder.
you followed close behind, doing your best to not think about the notebook hidden upstairs or the words still echoing in your head.
just moments later, the attic hatch closed above you, leaving the journal in darkness.
you couldn’t sleep that night. all you could think of every time you shut your eyes was the unbridled longing between the covers of that godforsaken notebook. every little action you previously chalked up to being ‘the perfect gege’ now carried new meaning.
the stupid nicknames, hugs that went on a little too long, the way he always gave you the last bite of his food, saying he “wasn’t hungry anymore”.
you groaned into your pillow, stomach twisting as you chided yourself for being so fucking stupid.
—
the smell of pancakes woke you in the morning, a familiar mix of vanilla and caleb’s ‘special ingredient’ (it was just cinnamon, he really wasn’t as clever as he thought) luring you out of bed. you padded downstairs in an old hoodie of his, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as he came into your view. you wrapped your arms around his broad figure hunched over the stove while taking him in. he was wearing his old running outfit, the colonel version of him hidden as he began looking like your caleb once again.
the muscles of his back tensed before he turned towards you, chuckling at the pout you wore while looking up at him.
“look who’s finally up.” he spoke, laughing at the way you rolled your eyes and pushed yourself off him.
“sorry i’m not a tryhard who gets up early”
you tried to bully him but somehow made him sound good. mumbling a ‘whatever’, you walked to the table and sat back, waiting for him to serve you.
a couple more minutes passed before he finally set a plate of golden pancakes in front of you, an iced chai following before you even had to ask.
“still not a coffee person, right?”
you nodded and tried to ignore the way your heart raced at his kind gesture, quickly grabbing the mug and covering the flush that bloomed on your cheeks.
breakfast continued in silence, the only sound heard being your collective chewing. you took the time to appreciate his masculine features, now seeing him as more than just the boy you grew up with. even the furrow of his eyebrow felt new, awakening longing in the deepest parts of your body you’d never felt before.
your heart squeezed as you began to spiral. did he still feel the same? why did you have to ruin everything by reading something so personal, god you were going to hell for this and it was deserv—
“you okay?”
you blinked several times before fumbling with your utensils, trying to look normal and failing desperately.
“w-what?” you mumbled, shoving multiple pieces of pancakes into your mouth before looking back into the violet eyes that were haunting you.
“you’ve been staring at me for like a minute, i got something on my face?” he asked, making a cocky display of hollowing his cheeks and stroking his jawline with the tip of his finger.
not responding for a beat too long and earning a questioning look from caleb, you spat out “s-sorry no jus’ zoned out”
“on my face?” he teased, flicking your forehead before focusing on his food once more. you knew it was a rhetorical question, one that didn’t need or warrant an answer—but for some reason you still found yourself responding. “yeah”
it was his turn to hide a blush now, biting his lip to suppress a happy smile. “weirdo”
the rest of breakfast passed in a blur, the air going stale with awkwardness. deciding to split up tasks to make everything go quicker, caleb offered to finish up the attic while you cleaned the kitchen. you tried resisting, saying you already started it, but it was no use—he didn’t want you to cry like yesterday again. asshole.
you listened to his footsteps climb the stairs, floorboards creaking as he began to work on the items. in less than an hour caleb had neatly organized nearly every box, now left with trashing the final items. he picked up some scattered papers here and there before pausing over a very familiar book, free of dust and dogeared to a page he remembered writing out.
bet it tastes so good from the sou-
the journal fell from shaky hands, a loud curse leaving his lips as it landed on his toes. he pinched the bridge of his nose, your strange act at breakfast now making perfect sense. still—caleb hoped, he prayed that by some miracle of god you didn’t read it. maybe if he ignored it like he ignored his feelings for you all these years, everything would be normal.
not giving it another thought, caleb quickly threw out the journal. “i’m sorry” he mumbled, unsure if he was speaking to you or his past self.
just as he contemplated fishing through the trash for it, too sentimental to dismiss his younger version’s struggles this easily, you bounced up the stairs carrying a water bottle.
“you okay?” you questioned, handing him a bottle of water. he nodded hesitantly before reaching for it, taking a sip and feeling a droplet run down his throat. your eyes never left him, trailing after the stray water with deep focus.
“looks good” you spoke dreamily, still staring at the collar of his shirt where the drop disappeared. “i-i mean the attic, um…you did it fast” you clarified, stumbling over your words before grabbing a broom and moving to sweep the dust.
caleb chuckled uncomfortably as he began stacking the boxes to keep, always having an eye on the bag of trash carrying his deepest secrets. somehow though, you kept finding ways to be close to him. intentionally or not—you were constantly going up to him, offering to help carry stuff you knew he didn’t need any help with.
at one point you tried to brush away some cobwebs you swore were on his head, pulling away after seeing the skeptical look he gave you.
“sorry” you mumbled, not able to look in his eyes.
“for what?”
you shrugged dejectedly, still not facing him. “nothing i guess”
before he could question you any more, you ran off to the washroom, leaving caleb with his thoughts.
—
by the time evening rolled around the attic was empty, and the two of you had washed away the dust with memories buried between it off your body. you collapsed on the couch next to each other, his arm thrown around your shoulders as he reached for the remote.
“horror?” he asked, speaking into the crown of your head.
you hummed in agreement, nuzzling further into his side. you inhaled deeply, noticing the way he tensed before pressing you closer. caleb turned on sinister without hesitation, throwing the remote aside and covering the two of you with a blanket.
twenty minutes into the movie and you were entangled with his body, legs resting atop his and arms gripping his waist tightly. at first you used the excuse of being “scared”, but you’d seen this movie fifty times. the jumpscares had no effect on you. still, you flinched in his touch with every loud noise, too aware of his hand resting dangerously close to your hip. you readjusted yourself until you were basically being cradled, finally causing him to pause the movie while clearing his throat.
“pips?”
you tucked your face against his chest before humming in response.
“did you read my old journal?”
you froze in his hold, unsure of how to respond. if you said yes, he’d know you saw all the…stuff. but if you said no, you’d have to explain why you were finally acting on thoughts you used to hate yourself for having.
“maybe?”
he sighed, holding you closer and resting his head upon yours. “i figured. i’m really, really sorry.”
his apology finally had you looking up “you’re sorry?”
he bit his lip and shrugged, still embarassed. “i didn’t mean it okay, i was a stupid 17 year old.”
you lifted an eyebrow.
“okay fine 18.” he paused, hoping you’d be satisfied. “fine 19. the point is—“
you giggled, tension finally slipping from your shoulders.
“i know it was bad, but i don’t want you to feel like you owe me anyth-“
“i love you”
you both spoke at the same time, interrupting each other.
silence followed as you waited for him to respond, regretting your words with every second that passed. finally, caleb lifted one hand to point at himself with his mouth agape. “m-me?”
it was the first time you’d seen him genuinely bewildered. you nodded as tears began to build, expecting a rejection to come.
“oh my god i take it back, i meant all of it and more. pips, i love you so—hey why are you crying?!”
you laughed at the alarm in his voice, letting him swipe away your tears. “i-i felt so much shame…always felt so sick and being here jus’ made it all come back.”
he nodded as you spoke, eyes flicking from yours to your trembling lips. “i’m sorry…god we wasted so much time”
you laughed again, wrapping your arms around his neck before resting your forehead on his. you sat like that, breathing each others air before he broke the silence.
“can i kiss you” caleb asked, lips already brushing yours with each word. you nodded eagerly, earning a chuckle from him.
he closed the distance between your mouths, gently pressing his lips on yours and feeling every version of him cheer as he finally got the girl of his dreams.
you moved back, looking into his eyes once more.
“again?”
you giggled at the question, closing the distance yourself this time and feeling his groan rumble through you. his tongue traced the seam of your lips, exploring with purpose once you gave him access. he licked against every part of your mouth, entwining his strong muscle with yours. a string of spit connected you when you pulled away from each other, lips puffy and red.
you grinded against him without meaning to, whining at the feeling of his hard length against your clothed heat.
“fuck” he groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch as you repeated the motion, letting your lips trail down his neck. “s-so fuckin good”
you focused on the spot that had him bucking against you, alternating between biting the sensitive skin and soothing it with your tongue.
“ngh…gege” you moaned into his skin, the endearing term making him pull you back with a hand in your hair.
“fuck, can i please take this off?” he asked, fingers playing with the hem of your top.
you nodded quickly, helping him rip it off you and throwing it to the side. you thanked your past self for skipping a bra after your shower, the warm hands cupping your breasts leaving you dripping.
“so fucking cute, used to think of these pretty tits all day” he confessed, pelvis continuing to meet your bounces above him. you moaned at his words, placing your hands on his shoulders for stability as you sped up. “r-really?”
“mhm. i couldn’t write down half the stuff i wanted to do, always felt too bad.” you whined at the words, nails gripping his shoulders tightly. “would imagine sucking on your pretty tits, playing with your pussy and watching you cum”
you nodded rapidly, gasping when he pinched your nipples. finally, caleb ran his tongue down towards your breasts, sucking on one of the perky buds while cruelly tweaking the other. the dual stimulation was too much for you, finally reaching your peak above him, body trembling as the waves of pleasure crashed over you.
he let you ride out your high before bringing his head up once more, pressing a tender kiss to your lips.
“do you want more?”
his hands slowly ran up and down your skin, soothing your nerves and letting you decide. you nodded while still catching your breath, watching in awe as he ripped his clothes off. “thank god, you don’t even know what you do to me.”
you stared at his chiseled figure, lifting your hips so he could take off your pants. your eyes trailed down his body before finally landing on the giant hard cock between his legs, his hand pumping it gently and rubbing the bead of slick at the tip around the rest of his length.
you gulped while watching him, back arching when he ran his tip between your pussy lips. “f-fuck, gege please”
he moaned at that, a whine of your name leaving his lips as the last of his restraint finally broke.
he slowly pushed his tip into you, the shear stretch of just the first inch making your eyes water. you gripped the couch below you, knuckles whitening with the force you used.
“doin’ so good, know you can take it” caleb spoke from above you, eyes locked on where you met, one hand rubbing your clit to ease the pressure.
“f-faster, get it over with”
he shook his head, unsure of whether he was denying it for your wellbeing or his. tired of how long he was taking, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him to you, a scream ripping from your throat as he was buried to the hilt. his eyes shot open as his body curled over you, trying to think of anything to avoid shooting his load prematurely.
the two of you moaned, surprised at how full you were. “s-so big” you cried, tears rolling down your face as he slowly pulled out to push back in.
“maybe if you weren’t a fuckin brat…” he began, cut off as he became entranced by the way your cunt constantly sucked him back in.
without a warning caleb increased his pace, shushing you and apologizing for being rough but not slowing down.
“sorry, fuck baby, i’m so sorry jus’ feel so good, been waiting for you forever”
you pulled him for a kiss to quiet his ramblings, trying not to scream as he began fucking into you ferociously. the old couch you were situated began to squeak as it moved against the floor, creaking with every inch it moved.
“c-close” you whined, already nearing your peak once more as his thumb rapidly rubbed against your clit.
“please baby, cum for me i need it, please fuck—“
his pleas were cut off with a gush of fluid from your heat, immediately triggering his own orgasm and leading to his body falling on top of yours. the sound of your heavy breathing filled the room, laying with each other as he pressed tender kisses to your shoulder.
you giggled at the immediate change in his demeanour, running a hand through his hair. just as he opened his mouth to speak, the movie suddenly resumed and caused both of you to let out a loud scream at the sudden jumpscare. caleb scrambled for the remote and shut the tv off, leaning back over you and giggling at the way your hearts raced in tandem.
a/n : some valko smutty/sugestive fluff to help distract from the emotions. take a break, drink some water, and enjoy. inbox open for anyone who needs it 💚
"angel- please, if you keep moving like that...," valko hisses out. he's still extremely sensitive, with the way his knot is keeping you locked in place.
"not my fault! I didn't realize a knot meant... you know...," you mutter. valko raises his brow, in a way thats both exasperated and endearing.
he's got you on top of him, your chest against his, one arm firmly around your waist with the other drawing lines up and down your spine. right after you came, he made sure to adjust you both, whispering to get comfortable, since you'd be stuck like this for a while.
just an hour or so earlier, you'd asked him if him being a werewolf came with the, well, perks, of being a werewolf. you've seen the way he acts- the way he bites to nip and bite you with those fangs of his, how he's utterly obsessed with your scent, and while he'll forever deny it, you've heard the little yips he makes when you brush out his tail.
and well, it's safe to say that valko is more bite than bark (though... you experienced a lot of both with the way he was pumping you full and making you see stars).
"you didn't think I was serious when you asked me if I had a knot?" he's saying it a bit to smug for your liking, so you retort with shifting just a bit- clenching just enough for him to groan out, both hands finding your hips and gripping.
"so,"
"so."
you both stare at each other, before letting out a small laugh. the kind of giggle that comes from that post-sex bliss. valko's tail curls from underneath him, lazily grazing the back of your thighs. it's a content state of being- close in a way that you literally couldn't be closer in.
"hey val? how long does your... last anyways?" you ask, your own hand reaching out to softly scratch the base of his wolf ears. valko hums softly, head moving to the side to lean into your touch. his nose rubs against your wrist, a spot that he's once said is really strong with your scent.
"the swelling can go down from anywhere between 15 minutes to... an hour I think?" your hand stops in his ears, eyes going wide at the revelation. sure, you might've read about it, seen it in books you've read, but the daunting reality of it all?
valko smirks at your flustered reaction, his hand reaching up to yours and bringing it back to pet his ears.
"give or take, by the way," he says casually.
your head plops back down, right in the crook of his neck. valko's laugh- deep and breathy and so him rumbles from under you. he wraps his arms around you once more, getting rid of the already nonexistent space between you two.
in his arms, you both talk about everything and nothing. you give him small updates from your life, books you've read, that new show you're watching. he listens- really listens- and tells you stories about his family, how he needs to get his glasses adjusted, about the new tech piece he's working on.
it's sometime it the depth of night when his knot starts to slowly soften up. he kisses you, gently and soft in ways that go deeper than i love you, though he means that just as much.
his knot slips free eventually, but neither of you make haste to move. he'll prep a bath, the sheets will be remade. but right now, all that exists is the wolf and his dearest love.
"meadow, i thought you said you were taking a break-" im coping. im sad and emotional and just want meet my wolf and see my dragon again. take care of yourselves, everyone.
synopsis : it's not like you purposely meant to condition your sweet werewolf boy to come on command. but hey, he's gotta prove that he's got plenty of energy stored up, right?
cw : unapologetically horny, breeding, oral, tummy bulge, mating press, doggy, overstim, spanking, knotting, not proof read, etc
a/n : day five of coping. enjoy some shameless smut with our woflie 💚
"o-one more, you can take one more for me, right angel?" he growls from the crook of your neck. he's got your legs thrown over his shoulders, chest pressed against yours, and if you were coherent enough you would've realized that at some point in the last 10 minutes, he slid a pillow underneath your hips, making every thrust of his cock hit in that spot that makes your thighs tremble.
valko usually has good patience. he can take the teasing, the light touches on the base of his ears, the way your hands linger a bit too long when you pet his tail. even during those heated moments, he'd much rather spend hours buried between your thighs, lapping and slurping up the slick that he swears his life on.
and it would've rolled out just like that, when just a few hours ago when you were settled in his lap. it was innocent enough- at least, as much as it can be when he's got his hands on you hips, grinding you against him while he alternates between kissing you breathless and biting the spot under under your collar. his tail curls around your waist, and it's almost instinctual the way the words smoothly come out from you lips, whispered and breathy.
"g-good boy..."
his grip on you tightens, and you watch the way his eyes blow up completely. valko's entire body shudders, before he buries his head down onto you.
"V-val?! what's wrong, are you-"
"stop talking, angel,"
"are you okay? do you need me to move-"
valko's arms wrap around you, a silent stay put. he's still shaking, and as you try to shift on him, you feel it. or rather, feel the way he just came undone.
"did you just-"
"no,"
it hits you like an absolute truck. the shock in your face slowly morphs into something akin to mischief. you gently pull valko's face up, making him look you in the eyes. his head tilts in that adorable, embarrassed puppy way, and you almost feel bad for what you're about to test out.
almost.
your smile is deceptively sweet, hands cradling his face while your lips ghost his own.
"good boy,"
the reaction is instantaneous. valko's eyes shut close, his tail just about wraps around you fully, and his hips rut upward as he comes undone, once again, to those two words alone.
and gods forbid you let out a soft laugh. not to shame him, but at the realization you've discovered. you should've realized it sooner, really. anytime valko does anything you've deemed deserve the phrase- his reaching something on the top shelf "aww, good boy, thank you valko!", when he sits still while you brush out the knots in his ears "good boy, I know I know just one more tangle", or when he's made you come on his face for the nth time "nghh, good boy, thank you-!".
the way his teeth graze your neck brings you back, and you're suddenly very aware on how he's flipped you over. you're rolled onto your stomach, hips lifted up and back deliciously arched. he's got you on his hands and knees.
his hand runs from the low of your back, tracing up your spine before trailing up into your hair. his grip is just firm enough where you help out a soft moan at the sensation.
his cock lines up at your entrance, warm and waiting. he's cooing, voice crazed and utterly depraved for you.
"shh, it's okay, baby. just one more for me, yeah?" you nod feverishly, body trembling with anticipation, hips trying to chase after him. the growl he lets out is nothing short of animalistic, before he pushes in with one smooth, devastating thrust.
with how he's got you, the stretch is somehow deeper and fuller and somehow got you wanting more. valko bottoms out, hand big and heavy on your ass before landing a nasty smack!
"look at you," he breaths out. you feel him lean forward, his chest- sculpted and defined- flushed against your back. the way he kisses your shoulder blades are such a gentle contrast to the way he's filling you up, deeper fuller than you've ever been.
his hand depends down, wrapping around you before settling on your stomach, right over where...
"you feel that?" your mind is all buzzed with him, so when he lands another slap in the same spot that's already red with his hand print, is when you process just what he's talking about.
valko can feel the cogs turning, and he pulls back just an inch before thrusting back in. his hand is still pressed against your stomach, his breath hot against your neck.
"that's right, that's me. so fucking deep inside you." he pulls all the way back, slow and excruciating, before thrusting back in- impossibly harder this time, a sharp snap of his hips that makes you gasp out.
"fuck-! that's it, taking me so well, angel. look at you, 's like you were made for me," his pace starts slow, each thrust a deliberate drag that makes you cry out. he's not doing any better on top of you, his ears flat against his skull, muscles flexed and straining out.
"you feel that?" his voice shudder out as he presses his hand down, "that's me. inside you. fucking you. claiming you." his movements speed up, his thrusts less and less precise as he chases both your highs.
"tell me- please, tell me I'm doing good," he lifts your hips higher, pulling his cock all the way out before pushing in to make sure you feel all of him, "please, angel-!"oh, and how could you deny the request of your wolf?
"g-good boy!"
a full body tremor shocks through him, his grip on you so tight that it's hard to tell where he starts and you end. A raw and broken sound tears from his throat.
"f-fuck, angel-!"
his hips drive forward, desperate and devastating as his release crashes through him. you feel him pulse inside you, the way your body surrenders to the pleasure. it's the way that you can feel him falling apart, just from you, that causes your own walls to clench around him, your moans swallowed by his pillows underneath you.
valko falls forward, catching himself before flipping you over. he's cradling you against his chest, voice raspy and hushed as he kisses your forehead. you feel it- his knot swelling up, locking you two together into a slick, exhasted mess.
his hand gently lifts your chin, and he finds your lips. he kisses you like he has no time to waste.
"thank you," he murmurs, soft and genuine. he pulls you close, getting you comfortable. it's be a while before his knot swells down, but right now, all that exists is the way his heart beats in sync to yours.
i will never stop writing for him. wait for me, my wolf.
♡︎ synopsis: Jet-lagged and wide awake long past midnight, you let Valko invite himself over to keep you company. What starts as a friendly, playful hangout slowly turns into something much more intimate.
♡︎ pairing: Valko x fem!reader
♡︎ tags: friends to lovers, making out, dry humping, use of 'sweetheart' 'baby' 'pretty girl', cowgirl, creampie ofc
♡︎ word count: 8k
♡︎ a/n: After the announcement we got last week, I ofc had to write something for Valko. I hope you like how I wrote him.
It took me over 8 hours to edit this fic, so if you don't like something or if there are any errors, I don't wanna know <3
♡︎ I wanna thank @unintentionalseductress for helping, and my beta reader its-de who doesn't have an account anymore (🙄).
divider by @anitalenia
The glow of the television washes the living room in soft, shifting light, some familiar comfort show murmuring in the background as you sink deeper into the corner of the sofa. The apartment still carries that faint in-between feeling that always follows a trip, your half-unpacked suitcase sitting by the wall, your carry-on slouched near the entryway. You scroll through Moments without really seeing much of it, your thumb moving on autopilot as photos and captions blur together, and when your eyes flick to the time in the corner of the screen, a quiet sigh leaves you – it’s past midnight. You only got back yesterday, but it annoys you that your body still refuses to remember what time zone it belongs to.
With a small frown, you toss your phone beside you, only to reach for it again a few seconds later. Sleep feels nowhere near, but so does doing anything useful. Your gaze drifts back to the screen, catching on the photo you posted from the trip a few hours ago. For a moment, you just stare at it, thumb hovering near the comments before you see a new notification at the top of your screen, and your breath catches.
Valko.
You stare at his name for a second before tapping on the message, your pulse giving one traitorous flutter as the chat opens.
‘Why are you still up??’
Your finger lingers above the keyboard, a smile already tugging at your lips, before you type back.
‘Why are you up?’
His reply comes quickly.
‘I asked you first.’
A quiet laugh slips out of you.
You shift further into the corner of the sofa, glancing toward the television even though you are no longer paying attention to whatever scene is playing out on the screen.
‘I’m still a little jet-lagged. Can’t sleep.’
For a few seconds, nothing happens.
Your thumb brushes the edge of your phone as you stare at the screen, suddenly wondering whether that sounded too flat. Maybe you should have added something else. Maybe –
Another message appears.
‘Then can I come over and keep you company?’
You sit up so quickly the blanket pooled over your legs slips halfway to the floor.
For a moment, you can only stare at the words – it’s such a simple message, but the thought of Valko here, in your apartment, at this hour, sends a rush through you that makes it impossible to stay curled up on the sofa like nothing happened.
You try to sound casual as you type back.
‘Sure.’
His answer appears almost immediately.
‘I’ll be there in twenty.’
Your eyes widen.
Twenty?
You glance down at yourself, at the pajamas you changed into after your shower. You push yourself off the sofa, hurrying to the bathroom to make yourself more presentable.
By the time you step back into the living room, changed into your new loungewear – an oversized sweater and a pair of shorts – and a light layer of makeup, your heartbeat has still not quite calmed down.
And then you nearly jump out of your skin.
There, just beyond the glass, Valko is already waiting outside on the balcony.
Your hand flies to your chest before you let out a quiet breath, your nerves settling almost as quickly as they spiked. What did you expect? Of course he used the balcony again, like it is a perfectly normal substitute for a front door.
You step closer and slide the door open. Before he can even get a word out, you point toward the entryway and try your best to sound serious.
“You need to immediately take off your shoes and put them by the front door like any other normal person would.”
A grin pulls at his mouth, and a soft chuckle slips from him as he steps inside. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” you say, with as much dignity as you can manage, even though you already feel far too giddy to properly stay in character. “Those are the rules.”
He does exactly as he’s told, walking over to the front door to slip off his shoes and leave them neatly where they should be.
You don’t really get a chance to say anything before he closes the distance between you and pulls you into a hug.
It’s warm and almost a little too tight, the kind of hug that steals your breath for a second, but you don’t care, not when his arms are around you like this. You tuck your face against his chest, breathing him in, and something in your chest loosens.
You missed this. Two weeks wasn’t even that long, but the moment his arms close around you, it hits you how much you’d been craving this exact feeling. The solid warmth of his body, the way he hugs like he means it, the faint familiar scent of his skin.
You squeeze him a little tighter, hoping he can’t feel how reluctant you are to let go.
“I missed you,” he murmurs against the top of your head.
A smile presses against his chest.
“I’m happy to hear that,” you say softly.
His arms loosen just enough for him to pull back and look at you, though his hands still linger at your waist.
“Only happy to hear that?” he asks, head tilting just a little. “You didn’t miss me at all?”
Your heart gives another hard, hopeless thud.
With the way he is looking at you, warm and teasing and still standing too close, it’s hard to hold onto any version of coolness for very long. So you say nothing, only glance away as if that will somehow hide the fact that your pulse is stumbling all over itself.
When he finally lets you go, the loss of his warmth feels immediate. His gaze flickers over you. It’s brief, almost nothing at all, but you catch it anyway – the quick dip of his eyes, the split-second pause that lingers just a touch too long before he looks back up.
Heat stirs low in your stomach.
If he noticed the bare stretch of your legs beneath the sweater, he does not say it.
Then his gaze drifts past you, over the living room.
You follow it, and only then do you properly take in the small signs of the last two days still scattered around the apartment. It’s not a mess, but it’s enough to make you realize, with a small jolt of horror, that while you had been busy changing, fixing your face, and deciding whether those shorts were too much, it had not once occurred to you to make the place look more presentable.
Valko glances back at you, amusement already tugging at his mouth. “You really made yourself at home.”
You stare at him.
Then at the open suitcase, then back at him.
“I – ” You stop, because there is truly no dignified recovery from this. “I just got back.”
His laugh is soft and boyish, bright with amusement, and before you can fumble your way into a proper defense, his hand comes up to rest lightly on your shoulder.
“I’m teasing,” he says. “Relax.”
Something in your chest loosens at once, though the embarrassment still lingers warm at your cheeks.
“You’re annoying,” you mutter, without much conviction.
He only grins and walks past you toward the sofa, entirely too pleased with himself, and drops down onto it, one arm spreading along the backrest.
You stand there for a second, trying not to think about the fact that he’s in your apartment, at almost one in the morning. Instead of sitting down beside him, you linger on your feet and start folding the few clothes left draped over the armchair, because you need something to do with your hands.
For a little while, the conversation comes easily – you ask him what he was doing up so late, and he tells you he got caught up researching something and lost track of time, and then he asks you how the trip was. As you smooth one of the shirts between your hands, you tell him that it was beautiful, that you enjoyed it more than you expected, that you and your friends managed to explore a few cities in between all the wedding preparations, though by the end of it you were exhausted from helping with everything. Even so, you admit that it had been worth it, because seeing your friend that happy, that deeply in love, had made all of it feel strangely tender and a little overwhelming in the best way.
The words trail off there for a second, because the memory rises too clearly, your friend smiling through tears, music drifting through warm evening air, the soft gold of the lights, the feeling of standing just outside someone else’s happiness and being moved by it anyway. You pause with the folded fabric still in your hands. When you look up, Valko is already watching you in that way of his that makes it seem like he notices more than he lets on.
So you shake yourself out of it before the moment can linger too long, and with a softer laugh, you steer the conversation somewhere lighter, telling him that the food alone had probably been worth the trip, and that you would have enjoyed it even more if you had not managed to spill some of it on your dress before the night was over.
“That’s a shame,” he says. “You looked beautiful.”
A soft flutter moves through your stomach, and for a brief second, you remember the small rush of giddiness you felt earlier when the notification popped up and you saw that he had liked the photo. Heat rise to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you murmur.
You clear your throat softly and glance toward the suitcase.
“Oh, right,” you say. “I almost forgot.”
His brows lift a little as you cross the room and crouch beside the half-open case, pushing aside a few last things until your fingers find what you had tucked in carefully. When you straighten again, you are holding a small sachet of dried flowers and a box of chocolates.
Valko watches you come back toward him, his expression shifting into mild confusion. “What’s that?”
You stop in front of him and hold the two things out. “A gift for you,” you say, “The flowers are from a little shop near where we stayed,” you explain. “They smelled really good, and they made me think of you. And the chocolates are from a local chocolaterie.”
A quiet breath leaves him, almost like a laugh, though there is something more touched than amused in it.
“That’s... really nice of you,” he says. “Thank you.”
You shrug. “It’s nothing.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not nothing.”
Before you can answer, he reaches for you.
His hand catches your wrist gently and tugs you closer, and the next thing you know, you are half stumbling onto the sofa as he pulls you down beside him and gathers you into another hug, and a startled little laugh slips out of you.
His cheek brushes your temple, and then his lips do too. “You’re sweet,” he murmurs.
For a moment, you simply let yourself stay there, tucked against him on the sofa.
“So,” he says, leaning back, “are you feeling sleepy yet?”
You shake your head. “Not at all. I’m wide awake.”
His gaze lifts toward the digital clock on the wall, and the faint crease that appears between his brows makes you want to laugh a little. “It’s past one,” he says, glancing back at you. “That’s a problem.”
You tilt your head. “Is it?”
“Yes,” he says, with enough seriousness to make the corners of your mouth twitch. “It is. We need to get you to sleep.”
Your lips pull into a small pout. “But you said you wanted to keep me company.”
His expression softens with amusement. “I do want to keep you company, but you should really get your sleep sorted out.”
The pout lingers, growing just enough to make him narrow his eyes at you like he already knows you are about to be difficult on purpose.
“So you said you missed me, and now you’re trying to get me to go to sleep. Rude.”
Valko looks ready to answer right away, but then he stops. His mouth closes again, and something shifts in his expression – a glint of mischief appears in his eyes so suddenly and so familiarly that you know you’re in trouble.
“Oh,” he says slowly, his grin beginning to spread, “so that’s what this is?”
Heat starts rising before you even know where he is going with it.
“Are you saying you missed me too?” His smile widens. “You just want to spend more time with me. Is that what you’re saying?”
Your whole face goes hot.
For a moment, you can only stare at him, feeling the burn spread across your cheeks as your mouth opens and closes once, then again, with absolutely nothing useful coming out. Valko’s grin only widens at your silence, clearly delighted with himself, and before he can say anything worse, you reach up and grab his cheeks between your fingers, squishing them without mercy.
“Ow, ow, ow,” he protests, though the laugh in his voice ruins any real attempt at sounding injured. “No need for violence!”
You let go, trying to look far less flustered than you feel, while he rubs at his cheeks with both hands and gives you a faint little pout that does nothing to make him less smug.
“Well,” you say, refusing to let him have the last word so easily, “you’re awake at this hour too, so why don’t you go to sleep?”
He leans back into the sofa, still rubbing one cheek as if you have truly wounded him, and lets out a thoughtful hum. “You know,” he says after a moment, “you’re right. The research I was doing didn’t help. My brain is still working through it, so I should probably try to relax too.”
His gaze drifts around the apartment then, over the sofa, the blankets, the cushions, and when he looks back at you, there is something almost casual in the way he says, “I can stay here, if you want. I can sleep over and take the sofa. Your apartment is cozy, after all.”
Your heart gives a quick, sudden flutter.
Then he pauses, glances toward the half-open suitcase by the wall, and adds with a grin, “Even with all this mess around.”
You smack his shoulder and he only laughs, like he had been waiting for exactly that reaction.
“Well,” you say, trying, and failing, to hide your smile, “if you think the sofa will be comfortable enough, then sure. You can stay over.”
Before he can find something else to tease you about, you pat your hands against your thighs and start to stand up. “Okay, then,” you say sweetly, already turning away. “Goodnight.”
Valko’s hand catches your waist before you get more than halfway up, stopping you without any real effort. A soft, amused laugh escapes him, like he knows exactly what you’re doing.
“No, no, no,” he says, gently pulling you back down beside him. “Now we both have to help each other fall asleep.”
You glance at him, unable to keep your smile from slipping through. “Oh, so that’s how it is?”
“That’s exactly how it is.”
Valko grabs the blanket you’d been using and spreads it over both of you. “We can watch whatever you had on,” he says, nodding toward the TV.
You settle deeper into the sofa, close enough that your knee brushes his beneath the blanket. For a while, neither of you says much. Then, slowly, his arm slips along the back of the sofa and curls around your shoulders, drawing you gently against his side – and you can’t help but lean into him.
At one point, you see him nuzzle lightly into the blanket – that sweet, familiar habit of his that always made you smile.
The episode plays on. A few small comments pass between you, easy and low, but gradually his body grows heavier against yours. His head tips until it rests lightly on top of yours, and his breathing slows into deep, even breaths.
You go still, listening.
A smile tugs at your lips when you carefully tilt your head to glance up at him.
His eyes are closed.
So much for his very serious plan.
Carefully, so you do not jostle him too much, you lift a hand and give his arm a small nudge. “Hey,” you murmur. “You’re gonna hurt your neck like that.”
He makes a soft sound first, then shifts against you, his cheek brushing against your hair before his eyes crack open only halfway. There is a moment where he looks thoroughly confused, caught between sleep and waking, and then his brows draw together faintly as if he is trying to remember where he is.
“Hey…” he mumbles, voice drowsy. “I’m supposed to be the one helping you sleep.”
“You’re doing a terrible job,” you whisper back, smiling as you say it.
He exhales a sleepy, half-formed laugh and instead of pulling away, sinks closer, his arm tightening around you.
You stay quiet for a moment, letting the comfortable silence settle between you. Then Valko’s voice breaks it, barely more than a murmur when he asks, “Did you miss me?”
The question is simple, stripped of any teasing. For a second, you just look at him – at his sleepy face, at the hopeful, searching look in his eyes.
“Yes,” you say softly. “I did.”
His arm tightens just slightly around you.
“I was really happy to see you tonight,” you add after a moment. “I know it was only two weeks, but it felt longer than that. And with everything getting busy again soon...” You trail off, then glance up at him. “I just wanted a little more time with you, I guess.”
Valko is quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing slowly against your side. Then he shifts slightly, turning more toward you. His gaze drops to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes, and the air between you feels suddenly heavier, sweeter.
His other hand lifts slowly, and when it settles against your upper back, the touch sends a small shiver through you. Then his hand slides higher, fingers spreading gently at the back of your head, cradling you there. You feel yourself drift closer, and he does the same.
Then his lips press against yours.
The kiss is soft and warm and careful. You melt into him. One of your hands holds onto the fabric of his hoodie, your body pressing closer of its own accord as happiness blooms through you so suddenly and so completely it almost feels unreal.
When your lips part, neither of you moves far.
Then he looks at you again, his gaze is softer than before but clearer too.
“I like you too much to pretend this is nothing,” he says, his voice soft and unguarded. He holds your gaze for another second. “Tell me if this is what you want too.”
Your answer comes easily. “I do.”
A small smile touches his mouth, sweet and a little disbelieving.
Then you lean in and kiss him again.
The hand at the back of your neck stays steady as he kisses you, and when your fingers slide from his chest to curl around the back of his neck, his breath catches softly against your mouth.
His mouth parts against yours, and when your tongues meet, the sensation is warm, slow, and so intimate it makes a deep shiver run through you. The slide is unhurried at first – soft, wet strokes that make heat bloom low in your belly. His tongue brushes against yours in ways that make your toes curl and your thoughts melt away. Then he gently catches your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a soft, teasing nibble before soothing it with another slow pass of his tongue.
You make a small, helpless sound into his mouth, pressing closer, and he answers with a low hum that vibrates through you. The kiss grows deeper, more consuming, but never rushed – every stroke of his tongue leaves you dizzy, aching in the best way, your body melting even further into his hold.
When the kiss finally breaks, you stay curled against him, forehead resting lightly against his, your breaths still uneven.
Neither of you moves for a long moment.
Then you pull back to look at him. “The sofa’s not that comfortable. You can… sleep in the bed with me. If you want.”
His eyes soften, that small smile returning. “I’d like that. A lot.”
While he heads to the bathroom, you slip into your bedroom and freeze for a second. The bed is still a mess from earlier – clothes scattered everywhere from when you’d frantically tried on different loungewear before he arrived – your cheeks burn at the evidence of how much you’d wanted to look nice for him.
You move fast, scooping everything up in armfuls and jamming the pile into your closet. Then you quickly change into your own pajamas: a loose shirt and flowy shorts. From the back of your closet, you pull out the biggest oversized t-shirt you own, with a goofy graphic and a band’s name splashed across the front.
By the time Valko returns from the bathroom, you’re already settled on the now-tidied bed, heart fluttering.
You hold the oversized shirt out to him. “Here. It’s the biggest one I have.”
He takes it from you, eyes crinkling with amusement as he reads the front. “Nice choice,” he teases. “Didn’t know you were a fan.”
You roll your eyes. “Shut up and just put it on.”
Instead of stepping out, Valko stays right there in front of you. With that easy confidence of his, he reaches back and tugs the hoodie off in one smooth motion. The movement pulls his t-shirt up slightly underneath, revealing a glimpse of his toned stomach and the sharp cut of his hips before the fabric falls back into place. He peels that off too, and for a moment you forget how to breathe.
Broad shoulders, the hard strength of his arms and chest that you’ve felt against you so many times, now fully on display in the soft glow of your bedroom lamp. Your gaze traces the lines of his body before you can stop yourself, lingering on the way his muscles shift as he unfolds the oversized shirt, then dipping lower to the faint trail of hair on his lower stomach.
Then he unbuttons his jeans.
The soft sound of the zipper feels impossibly loud in the quiet room. He pushes them down his hips and steps out of them, leaving him in just his boxers. The fabric clings to the firm lines of his thighs and the unmistakable outline underneath, and your face burns. You know you should look away, but you can’t.
Valko catches you staring.
A knowing smile curves his mouth, “Enjoying the show?”
You immediately avert your gaze. “No.”
You turn off the last light and climb into bed.
He chuckles softly and finally pulls the t-shirt over his head. A moment later he joins you, pulling the blanket over both of you as he settles on his side facing you.
For a second, you just look at each other in the low glow of moonlight from the window. Then he reaches out, sliding an arm around your waist and drawing you closer until your bodies press together again.
“You okay?” he asks softly, the same careful warmth in his voice from earlier.
You nod, tucking your face against his chest, breathing him in. “Yeah.”
He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head… then another to your forehead… then, when you tilt your face up, to your lips.
This kiss starts slow and sweet, like the first one, but the closeness of the bed changes everything. Your hands find his chest again, sliding over the soft, worn fabric of your own shirt on him. He tastes like toothpaste, and the warmth of his body pressed against yours under the covers makes your head spin. One of your hands drifts up to the back of his neck, fingers threading gently into his hair, while his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you even closer until your legs tangle together.
A soft sound escapes you when his hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, palm warm and broad against the bare skin of your lower back. The touch is gentle, almost reverent, but it sends a slow shiver through you all the same. He pauses there, thumb stroking small circles against your spine, as if checking whether you want him to stop.
When you press closer instead, he lets his hand explore further, sliding up the curve of your back, mapping the warmth of your skin like he’s been wanting to do this for just as long as you have.
The kiss breaks only so you can both catch your breath, but his mouth doesn’t go far. He trails soft, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then lower to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. When his teeth graze there lightly, your breath hitches.
“Still okay?” he whispers, voice husky now, lips brushing your skin with every word.
“Yes,” you manage, a little breathless. “Don’t stop.”
Valko makes a low, pleased sound deep in his chest. His hands slide to your waist, and with gentle strength he rolls you both over so you’re on top. He helps you settle, guiding your legs until you’re straddling his hips.
For a moment you brace yourself on your hands, hovering just slightly above him. Your heart is racing – nervous, excited, and suddenly worried about settling your full weight on top of him.
Valko looks up at you. One of his hands stays on your hip while the other smooths slowly up your back.
“Come here…” he murmurs. “All of you.”
When you hesitate for half a second, he adds gently, “Just relax.”
Carefully, you lower yourself until your full weight rests on him. The moment your chest presses fully against his, a quiet sigh escapes both of you. He feels so solid beneath you – the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his skin, the firm strength of his body supporting yours so easily. Your legs settle on either side of his hips, and the intimate press of him right between your thighs makes heat bloom low in your belly.
Valko’s arms wrap around you immediately, one hand splaying wide across your lower back, the other sliding up between your shoulder blades to hold you closer. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck with a deep inhale, breathing you in.
For a long moment you just stay like that – bodies aligned, hearts beating against each other. Then he gently nudges your face with his, and you tilt your head down to meet him.
His lips move against yours, and when the kiss deepens, it happens gradually – tongues brushing, mouths opening wider, breaths growing a little heavier. The weight of you on top of him, the way your bodies fit together so completely, makes everything feel more intense. You can feel the hard line of him pressed right against your core, and the sensation sends little sparks of pleasure through you with every tiny movement.
Still a little shy, still a little uncertain, you roll your hips in one slow, experimental movement. The friction drags right where you need it most, pulling a soft, involuntary sound from your throat. Valko groans – low, rough, and completely unguarded – the sound vibrating against your mouth. His arms tighten around you instantly, and the way he pulls you down against him makes it clear just how much he felt that.
“Fuck…” he breathes against your lips. “Do that again.”
Emboldened by his reaction, you roll your hips again, grinding down against him. The pleasure sparks sharper, deeper. You can feel every inch of him through the thin layers of fabric separating you, and the way his body responds – the way he twitches underneath you – makes your stomach flutter.
Valko meets you on the next roll. He rocks his hips up into yours in a slow, deep rhythm, pressing firmly against your core with each movement. His hold on you never loosens – he keeps you flush against his chest, bodies moving together in a slow, rolling grind.
The kiss grows sloppier, hotter – tongues slide deeper, mouths open wider, little wet sounds mixing with your shared breathing. You feel his heartbeat hammering against yours.
“You feel so good on top of me,” he murmurs. “Keep moving just like that, baby.”
Valko’s hands are everywhere. One stays anchored on your hip, guiding your movements, while the other slips under your pajama shirt, palming the soft skin of your back, then sliding down to squeeze your ass. He pulls you down harder against him on every roll, making sure you feel exactly how hard he is.
Then his hand moves between your bodies.
He presses two fingers against the front of your shorts, right over your core. The moment he touches you, you realize just how soaked you are. The fabric is warm and damp, clinging to you, and the pressure of his fingers makes the wetness even more obvious. A flush of embarrassed heat rushes through you, but it only makes you ache more.
Valko groans deeply into your mouth, the sound raw. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs. He rubs slow circles over the soaked fabric, pressing just right against your clit through the layers. The sensation makes your hips jerk, a sharp little whimper escaping you.
He pulls back from the kiss just enough to look at you, breathing hard. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, but there’s a flicker of hesitation there too. His throat works as he swallows, and when he speaks, his voice has the slightest tremble in it.
“Still okay?” he asks, fingers still gently pressing against your soaked shorts. He pauses, searching your face. “Can I…?”
You nod quickly, cheeks burning. “Yeah,” you whisper, barely audible. “Please.”
A soft, relieved breath escapes him.
He shifts just enough to reach between you. With one hand, he tugs his boxers down far enough to free himself, his cock springing up hot and heavy against your inner thigh. With the other, he hooks his fingers into the crotch of your pajama shorts and panties, tugging the soaked fabric to the side. The cool air hits your slick, exposed folds for only a second before the blunt, burning heat of his tip presses right against your entrance.
The slight sting of his girth against your sensitive opening makes you inhale sharply. Still, your thighs tremble as you fight the instinct to sink down all at once.
Valko’s eyes never leave your face. His breath is shaky, his grip on your hip almost bruising as he visibly holds himself back from thrusting up.
“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and strained. “Just relax… I’ve got you. Trust me.”
He rocks his hips up in the tiniest, careful movement, letting just the head slip inside you. The stretch is intense – a burning, aching fullness that makes your mouth fall open on a quiet, broken sound. You feel every thick inch as he slowly works you open, his eyes locked on yours the entire time, watching every flicker of sensation across your face.
Another shallow thrust, and he sinks a little deeper. His hand on your hip keeps guiding you down slowly, patiently, even as his own breath trembles and a low groan escapes his lips. You can feel how much he’s holding back – the tension in his arms, the way his fingers dig into your skin, the way his cock twitches inside you with the effort of going slow.
He presses his forehead to yours, nuzzling your nose, his voice dropping to a whisper between heavy breaths.
“Just a little more… that’s it. You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.”
He keeps guiding you with those slow, shallow thrusts, working himself deeper. Each gentle push stretches you further, the thick heat of him dragging against your walls in a way that makes your breath hitch and your fingers curl against his shoulders. The slight sting is still there, but it’s slowly melting into something warmer, fuller, more overwhelming.
Finally, with one last careful roll of his hips, he bottoms out completely.
A soft, broken sound escapes you as he fills you to the hilt. Your walls flutter around him, clenching instinctively at the overwhelming sensation of being so completely taken.
Valko goes very still beneath you, breathing hard against your neck.
He whispers your name. “Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?”
You take a shaky breath, then nod against his shoulder, melting a little more in his embrace. “I’m okay,” you murmur, voice soft and a little breathless.
The tension in his body eases at your words. He pulls you even closer, if that’s possible, until there isn’t a single inch of space left between your bodies. Your breasts press against his chest, your stomach against his, your thighs snug around his hips.
“Just stay like this for a moment,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “Let me feel you… all of you.”
You melt into him completely.
He starts kissing you again – first pressing his lips to yours, tender and sweet. Then to your flushed cheek. Then along the line of your jaw. When he reaches your neck, he lingers there, nuzzling into the sensitive skin with a deep inhale, breathing in the scent of you as his lips trail soft, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your throat. Every kiss sends warm little sparks through your body, making you shiver and clench around him.
You feel completely surrounded by him. He makes you feel soft and safe and wanted in a way you’ve never quite felt before.
After a few long, still moments of just feeling each other, Valko starts to move.
He rolls his hips up in one slow thrust, pressing himself even deeper inside you. The drag of his thick length against your walls pulls a shaky moan from your throat. He does it again, and again – careful but steady, letting you feel every inch as he fills you completely with each roll.
You start moving with him.
Your hips begin to roll in a slow rhythm, grinding down to meet his upward thrusts. The pace is yours, and he lets you set it. Every time you sink down onto him, his cock grazes all the right spots inside you, sending sparks of sharp pleasure through your core. You can feel how wet you are – how your slick coats him completely, making every slide smoother, wetter, hotter. You angle your hips just right so that with every downward roll, your clit grinds against his pelvis. The added friction makes your thighs tremble. Pleasure builds fast and heavy, coiling tight in your belly with every movement.
You can’t stop looking at him.
Even in the low, dim light of your bedroom, he looks devastating. His eyes are heavy-lidded, dark with lust, but locked on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a single detail. His lips are parted and glistening, soft groans and quiet curses falling from them every time you sink down on him. His hair is slightly messy from your fingers, and the way his jaw clenches when you roll your hips harder makes your heart stutter.
You roll your hips faster, chasing that building pleasure with every grind of your clit against his pelvis and every deep stroke of his cock inside you. The slick sounds of your bodies meeting grow louder, wetter with every movement. Your walls flutter and clench around his thick length, coating him even more with your arousal as the pressure inside you coils tighter and tighter.
A broken moan of his name slips from your lips – “Valko...” – raw and needy. The sound of it makes your cheeks burn – you feel suddenly exposed like this, riding him so shamelessly, your voice sounding so desperate, your body moving on instinct. The wave of pleasure is cresting dangerously close, and the intensity of it makes you shy for a moment.
You duck your head, hiding your face in the warm crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you keep rolling your hips.
You know Valko notices. Instead of pulling you back, he cradles the back of your head with one large hand. His voice is full of affection as he murmurs against your ear.
“You can stay right here, sweetheart. Just feel it… That’s it. Come for me.”
His words, the steady praise mixed with the way he keeps thrusting up to meet your rolling hips, push you right over the edge.
With one more deep grind of your hips, your orgasm crashes through you. Pleasure surges hot and overwhelming, ripping a muffled, trembling cry from your throat against his neck. Your walls clamp down hard around his cock, pulsing and fluttering. Your thighs shake, slick gushing around him as you come hard, soaking his length and pelvis. Valko groans deeply, the sound vibrating against your chest, and holds you even tighter, his hips still moving with yours – slow, deep rolls that help you ride out every last pulse of pleasure.
Your hips gradually slow, then finally still as the last ripples of your orgasm fade into a warm, glowing haze. You stay draped over him, breathing hard against his neck, your heart still racing wildly in your chest.
After a few long seconds, you finally gather the courage to lift your head from its hiding place. Your face is glistening with sweat, your cheeks are burning, your hair slightly messy as you meet his gaze. You’re still catching your breath, lips parted, eyes a little dazed.
When your eyes lock, the intense heat in Valko’s gaze melts into something more tender. A small, gentle smile curves his lips as he looks up at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. The hand that had been cradling the back of your head slides forward to graze your cheek with his thumb, stroking it with slow affection.
“There you are…” he murmurs, voice low and fond. “Hi, pretty girl.”
He searches your face for a moment. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, thumb continuing its gentle caress. “Do you want to keep going?”
You feel a sheepish little smile tug at your lips. You nod, still a bit breathless, cheeks warming even more under his attentive gaze.
“Yes,” you whisper.
His smile deepens, soft and warm. “You want me to take over?”
You nod again, a little quicker this time. “Yes, please.”
Valko’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, an almost reverent smile curving his lips as he takes in the sight of you in front of him.
“Just relax for me,” he whispers against your temple, pressing a lingering kiss there. “Tell me if it gets too much, okay?”
After you nod, Valko doesn’t waste another second.
He captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss as he begins to move beneath you. His hips roll up in long thrusts, driving his thick cock deeper into your soaked heat with every stroke. One arm stays locked around your back, pressing your chest flush against his, while his other hand keeps your shorts and underwear tugged to the side so he can fuck you properly.
He keeps kissing you through it – slow and messy, tongues sliding together as his pace gradually picks up. His breath grows heavier against your lips, and between kisses he whispers –
“Am I doing good? Tell me… fuck, I need to hear it.”
You’re already losing yourself in the rhythm of his thrusts, the way his cock stretches and fills you so perfectly. The answer slips out of you in a hazy, breathless mumble, half-coherent and soaked in pleasure.
“You feel so good…” you moan, voice breaking. “Fuck – you’re so big… filling me up so deep…”
Valko groans loudly at your words, the sound low and guttural. His grip on you tightens, and his thrusts grow a little harder, a little faster, driving up into you with more purpose. The wet slap of skin on skin grows louder as he fucks you deeper, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot with devastating precision.
“Yeah? You like how deep I’m fucking you?” he rasps against your lips, voice thick with lust. “You’re taking me so well… so wet and tight around my cock. I could stay buried in you forever.”
You whimper at his filthy words, clenching hard around him. He keeps that perfect rhythm, holding you close, kissing you like he never wants to stop, while his cock drives into you again and again, pushing you closer and closer to the edge once more.
You can feel him starting to throb inside you, his rhythm beginning to falter as he gets closer to the edge. His thrusts grow a little rougher, a little more desperate.
He must feel how you’re close too, because your hips have started moving on their own, grinding down to meet every thrust. His breath stutters against your mouth.
“You close again, baby?” he groans, voice strained and low. “Fuck… I can feel you squeezing me so tight.”
You nod frantically, whimpering as another wave of pleasure builds fast and hot. “Yes – I’m close… please, Valko, go faster – ”
He clenches his jaw, a deep, guttural sound escaping him as he tries to hold back. His hips snap up harder, but you can tell he’s right on the edge.
“I’m too close,” he rasps, almost apologetic, still fucking you deep and steady. “If I go faster, I’m not gonna last – ”
“It’s okay,” you breathe, voice trembling with need as you roll your hips down to take him even deeper. “It’s fine, just – don’t stop. Please.”
Valko lets out a wrecked moan, his grip on you tightening almost painfully. He buries his face in your neck for a second, breathing you in, then pulls back just enough to look at you with dark, desperate eyes.
“Where can I finish?” he asks, voice hoarse and filthy. “Where do you want me?”
Without hesitation, still grinding down on his cock, you whisper against his lips –
“Inside. I want you to come inside me.”
Valko’s control finally snaps.
With a deep, guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt in a few hard, fast thrusts. You feel every powerful spurt as he fills you up, warm and wet, his cock twitching deep in your pussy while he keeps rolling his hips in sloppy thrusts, pushing his release even deeper.
The sensation of him coming inside you sends a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. You’re right on the edge again, but you stay still for him, letting him use you however he needs, your body soft and pliant on top of his as he rides out the last pulses of his orgasm.
Then he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, voice wrecked and breathless.
“Move, baby… don’t stop. Chase it. I want to feel you come on my cock again.”
You hesitate for half a second, worried it might be too much for him, but he doesn’t let you overthink it. His hands grip your hips firmly and start guiding you, encouraging you to roll and grind on him again.
You nod, eyes locked with his, and start moving.
You ride him through the mess, feeling his warm cum leak out of you with every roll of your hips, slick and obscene, coating both of you. His cock is still hard inside you, but you can feel how oversensitive he is now – the way he twitches and throbs helplessly with every movement, like it’s almost too much.
He meets your rhythm with shallow, desperate thrusts, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise. His eyes stay locked on yours, heavy-lidded and burning, even as his breath turns ragged and broken.
Valko groans, low and wrecked. “That’s it… fuck, just like that,” he rasps, voice tight and strained. “Come on my cock, baby – you’re squeezing me so fucking tight… Good girl, so fucking good…”
It doesn’t take long.
Pleasure slams into you harder this time. You come with a trembling, broken cry, your walls clamping down around his oversensitive cock as another orgasm rips through you. The feeling of his cum leaking out around him with every pulse makes everything wetter, filthier, messier. Slick and cum mix between you as you grind down on him, thighs shaking violently.
This time you don’t hide your face. You stay right there, eyes locked with his, letting him see every second of it – the way your lips part on a silent gasp, the way your whole body shudders and tightens around him.
“Fuck – yes, baby… look at you,” he groans, voice slurred and desperate. “So fucking pretty when you come… good girl…”
His wrecked praise sends a fresh wave of heat through you, drawing out the pleasure for a few more trembling seconds. Then the intense peak of your orgasm slowly fades, leaving you utterly spent. You collapse completely on top of him, your cheek pressed against his chest as you try to catch your breath. Your body feels heavy, hot, and spent in the best possible way. Valko’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as he stays buried deep inside you, his cock still twitching with the last aftershocks. Neither of you makes any move to separate.
You nuzzle back into the crook of his neck, breathing in the comforting mix of his skin, sweat, and your own scent on him. His hands move slowly over your back in long, soothing strokes, fingertips tracing gentle patterns along your spine.
For a long while, you simply rest like that – tangled together, hearts slowing down, his warmth surrounding you completely.
Eventually, his voice breaks the comfortable silence, low and gentle against your ear.
“You okay?” he asks, still stroking your back. “Feeling alright?”
You manage a small nod against his neck, too tired and floaty to form proper words. A tiny, satisfied hum is all you can offer.
He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath you.
After a few more quiet, peaceful minutes, you finally shift. You slowly push yourself up on shaky arms and lift your hips. The moment he slips out of you, a low, disappointed groan escapes Valko’s throat. The sound is so genuine that you can’t help but let out a soft, breathless chuckle.
“We should probably clean up,” you murmur, still smiling.
He nods, but there’s a playful pout in his expression. Before you can move away, he cups your face with both hands and pulls you down into a slow, sweet kiss. It’s softer than anything that came before – gentle, lingering, and full of affection. When he pulls back, his thumbs brush over your cheeks, and his eyes are warm and tender in the afterglow.
“You feeling sleepy now?” he asks, a hint of playful teasing in his tone.
You let out a soft, embarrassed little laugh. The reality of everything that just happened is starting to settle in, making your cheeks warm all over again.
“Yeah… I think I am,” you admit.
He chuckles quietly, but then that familiar warm smile returns as he pulls you back down into his embrace. He presses a lingering kiss to the top of your head.
“I never want to let you go.” He whispers.
You melt into him again, letting yourself stay there for a moment longer, tucked safely in his arms. As his fingers keep moving gently over your skin, all you can think is that you want more of this – more nights that end with him holding you close, more stolen hours together, more of his laughter, to feel his warm hands, to see his eyes that always soften when they find yours.
11. "I know baby" while you are cumming with Caleb.
🔞MDNI🔞
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The silence was the worst part.
Thirty two days of it. It was not like the comfortable quiet of your apartment on a Sunday morning, it was something heavier, pressing down on your chest until every breath felt like work. You'd developed routines around it without meaning to. Checking your phone at the same times every day. Sitting on the edge of your bed in the dark, watching the notification light on your watch for something that never came. Eating when you remembered to. Sleeping when you couldn't stay awake anymore.
The Fleet had given you nothing.
You weren't official family. That was the problem, the one that the Farspace Fleet kept running into every time you called. Childhood bonds didn't have paperwork. Shared trauma didn't have a form number. The promise made in the darkness of his room more than a year ago didn't hold any legal weight, and so every time you called you got the same automated voice, the same words in the same order.
The expedition into the deepspace flux zone is ongoing. All communications are classified under Level 4 security protocols.
You'd stopped counting how many times you'd heard it.
A week ago rumors started moving through the hunter channels, spreading fast and going quiet the moment an official walked into a room. A collapse inside the tunnel. A squadron cut off from the extraction point. You'd cornered a senior officer at the Association headquarters and watched her look at everything in the room except your face while she told you to prepare for the worst. As if that was a sentence you were supposed to absorb and go home.
They were writing him off. Filling in forms. Moving toward the moment where they'd call it officially and send you a letter with his name at the top and a condolences paragraph at the bottom, and the universe would have taken him from you a second time. The first time had been the explosion. You'd been clueless then, and the grief had carved something out of you that had never fully grown back. Thirty two days of silence and you could feel those same edges again, the same hollow shape of a loss you didn't know how to survive this time.
You'd spent the last two days crying under your duvet without a reason to come out.
2:14 AM. The front door clicked.
You sat up so fast the blood rushed out of your head. Sat completely still in the dark, heart hammering, telling yourself it was nothing— probably a neighbor's door, your own exhausted mind making up sounds it wanted to hear. You'd been doing that. Hearing things. Seeing his face in the corner of your eye on the street and turning to find a stranger.
Heavy footsteps in the hallway. A duffel bag dropped onto the hardwood floor. The weight of it, the carelessness of someone too exhausted to set something down gently, sent something electric straight up your spine.
You got out of bed. Your legs weren't entirely reliable. You caught the door frame, steadied yourself, crossed the hallway on autopilot with your heart somewhere in your throat.
The bathroom light was on. Through the glass the steam was already building, the shower ran hard and hot, and you could smell it from the doorway—your shampoo.
You pushed the door open.
The steam rolled out around you, warm and thick, and through the clear panel of the shower glass—
Caleb.
He didn't know you were there yet.
He was standing under the water with his forehead pressed against the tile, shoulders rising and falling. The water was too hot—you could tell because the steam was already thick enough to blur the far wall—but he wasn't adjusting it. Just standing in it. Letting it hit the back of his neck and run down the lines of his shoulders to carry whatever he'd brought back with him down the drain.
His skin was pale, the kind of pale that came from a month without real sunlight, and every muscle in his back was wound so tight it looked painful.
He looked like he had fought his way to a door and wasn't entirely sure yet that he'd made it through.
His head turned.
His eyes found yours through the condensation and steam, bloodshot from lack of sleep and completely awake in an instant, and the look on his face when he saw you standing there—the unguarded relief of it—hit you somewhere behind your ribs and stayed there.
He reached back to shut the water off then stepped out without reaching for a towel, water running off his shoulders and chest, steam rising off his skin. He looked different. Harder at the edges. Several days of dark stubble caught the harsh bathroom light and he looked nothing like the man who'd kissed you goodbye a month ago, or he looked exactly like that man, just with everything worn closer to the surface, less of it contained.
Neither of you spoke. You weren't sure you could. The reality of him standing in front of you—breathing, dripping water onto the floor—was still making its way through days of silence and the grief of someone who had already lost him once and had spent the last forty eight hours preparing to do it again.
"Caleb." It came out barely a sound.
He crossed the bathroom floor in three steps, water trailing behind him, and his hand wrapped around your wrist. His grip was warm, real and it made your eyes sting immediately. He didn't say anything. He just held you for a moment, his thumb pressed against your pulse point, and let you feel that he was there.
He kept hold of your wrist the whole way. Down the hall, through the door of your room, until your shoulders found a wall and he stopped in front of you. The sight of him, still yours, broke something open in your chest that you'd been holding very carefully shut.
"Caleb,—the fleet, they—I thought you were—"
"I'm right here." His voice came out rough, scraped down to something raw and unrecognizable, nothing of his usual warmth in it yet. "Forget what they said. I'm right here. I'm safe."
He placed his palms against the wall on either side of your head, steadying the space around you like he always had. The heat coming off his skin was startling against the cool air of the bedroom. You looked up at him, at the dark sharp lines of his jaw and the thick stubble that made him look exhausted and more real than anything you'd let yourself imagine in the last four weeks.
"Look at you," he said quietly, eyes moving over your face, your shaking hands, "Why are you trembling. It's okay." His voice dropped further. "I've got you."
"I thought you were dead." The first sob broke through before you could stop it "They wouldn't tell me anything, Caleb. They told me to prepare for the worst, I didn't know what that—fuck, I did know what it meant and I couldn't—"
"I know." He pulled you away from the wall and buried his face in the curve of your neck, you felt the rough drag of his stubble against your skin and gasped. He breathed you in slowly, deeply, his whole chest expanding against yours. "I know what they're like." His arms tightened around you. "But I promised you. I have always promised you. I fought my way out of that tunnel because leaving you again was not an option."
His hands moved down and without any warning he hooked his hands under your thighs and lifted you clean off the floor.
You wrapped your legs around his waist on instinct, hands flying to his shoulders. Your shorts rode up with the movement, bare thighs pressing against the heat of his hips.
"Baby—"
His mouth came down on yours.
It wasn't desperate in the way you'd expected. It was slower than that, deeper, a kiss that had too much behind it to rush. A month of darkness, cold and whatever he'd fought through to get back to you, all of it pressing into the way his lips moved against yours, his tongue parting your mouth in a heavy stroke that made your fingers curl into his damp hair and pull.
He shifted your weight, pressing your spine gently but firmly into the wall, and you felt the full length of his cock against you through the thin fabric of your shorts—already hard, already searching for the closeness you both needed, his hips moving in a slow rhythm that mirrored exactly what his mouth was doing.
He broke the kiss just far enough to look at you again.
"I'm here," he said, his words almost too quiet to hear. "Right here. I'm not going anywhere."
"I need—" Your voice broke, tears were streaming down your face. "Please. I need to feel you. I need to know you're actually—"
The sound that came out of him was pained. He lowered you until your feet touched the floor, keeping one arm tight around your waist, and his free hand went to your waistband, careful, guiding your shorts and underwear down together until they pooled at your ankles and you stepped out of them.
He straightened back up and you looked at each other in the quiet of the room. He was watching your face with an expression that made your throat close up again. The marks of the last month were all over him, the exhaustion, the weight loss, the hollowness around his eyes, and he was still the most beautiful man you'd ever seen.
He reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, tossing it behind him without looking. Then he was back against you, chest to chest, and the heat of his body in front of you and the cool hard wall behind you made your breath leave you all at once.
His jaw dragged down your throat. The stubble was rough and you felt every millimeter of it, that scraping friction kept pulling you back into your body every time emotion threatened to pull you out of it. He was doing it on purpose. Making sure you felt him. "Right here," he said softly against your skin. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours."
There was nothing left to say that your body wasn't already saying for you.
He hooked one of your legs over his hip, his forearm sliding under your thigh to hold you there. His free hand moved between you, guiding himself to your entrance, and he paused—just for a breath, tip pressed against your heat—eyes on your face, waiting.
"Please. Now. Ca—"
He pressed forward and you buried your face in his neck.
The sob that came out of you surprised both of you. He felt it move through you and pulled you closer, both arms wrapping around you, his hands spread wide across your back.
"I've got you," he whispered, lips against your temple. "I've got you. I'm here."
He pulled back slowly. Almost all the way. Let you feel the drag of it, the absence, and then drove back in deeper.
"Caleb—" he swallowed the sound of his name with a sound of his own, low in his chest, his forehead dropping to yours.
He began to move and there was nothing fast about it. Just you and him.
The heat built fast anyway. Your nails found his back, his shoulders, whatever you could reach, and he let you—didn't flinch, didn't shift away, just kept moving in a steady rhythm while the wet sounds of it and both of your breathing filled up the room. Your tears were still falling and you stopped trying to do anything about them, just let them come while your mouth left marks on his body.
His shoulder pulled away from your mouth.
"Look at me." Came his voice, strained, like it cost him something to speak. "Let me see you."
You lifted your head. Your vision was a bit blurry, everything fractured through tears, but you could see him clearly enough, jaw clenched, neck tight, the muscles in his face working against something he was holding back.
"You don't have to be scared anymore," he rasped, hips driving forward again, finding a shorter faster rhythm that dragged against every nerve ending you had. "I'm right here, baby. I'm staying right here."
"I was so scared—" The words broke apart before you got through them, your body clenching around him in tight pulses. "Caleb, I thought—I kept calling and they wouldn't—and then she said to prepare and I didn't—"
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you had to sit with that."
"Don't apologize—"
"Look at me," he said again, softer this time. "Stay with me."
He grabbed your other leg, hoisting you higher until you were fully suspended—nothing under you but him, every thrust finding someplace deeper, enough to make your whole body seize up and your head fall back against the wall.
"Oh—Caleb—I'm going to—I—"
"I've got you." He brought his face to your cheek, lips moving against the wet, salty skin there, breathing you in. "I've got you. Let go."
The past month collapsed into a single point in your chest and then detonated. Not just pleasure—though that rolled through you in long shaking waves—but everything under it. Every night staring at his empty side of the bed. Every time a voice said please await official updates. The two days under your duvet where you'd let yourself start to grieve him. All of it coming up at once, unstoppable, your whole body shaking with it while he held you against the wall and didn't let you fall.
"I love you," you sobbed into his neck, the words coming out in pieces. "I love you—I love you—"
"I know." His voice cracked on the second word. He was close. His lips pressed to your temple, your jaw, your wet cheek "I know, baby. I love you. I love you. I'm home."
He buried himself as deep as he could go, shaking, your name in his mouth like a prayer he'd been repeating for a month to keep himself moving forward.
He carried you to the bed eventually. Lay down with you still tangled against his chest, one hand moving slow up and down your back, the other tucked under his head.
"They really told you to prepare?"
"Three days ago."
He was quiet for a moment. His hand stilled on your back.
"They wouldn't tell me anything because I'm not—I'm not on any form. There's no box I fit in. I'm not—" You stopped. Felt your throat tighten again and breathed through it. "There's no paperwork that says I'm yours. So as far as they were concerned I was nobody and they owed me nothing."
Caleb didn't say anything. His chest rose and fell steadily.
"I need that to change"
"Okay," he said.
"I mean it, Caleb." You pushed yourself up onto your elbow and looked at him, his eyes were already on you. "I need it to actually change. Not someday. Not when things settle down or when the fleet rotation is easier or when we find a better time. I need—" your voice came out fierce and a little unsteady and you let it be both. "I need to be your wife. Legally. On every form and every document and every emergency contact line they have. I need there to be paperwork that says you're mine so that the next time someone tries to lock me out of a room where decisions are being made about your life, I can put it on their desk and they cannot say no to me."
He was very still.
"I'm not asking you to do something romantic," you said. "I'm not—this isn't about a ceremony or a dress or any of that, though I want all of that too, I do. I'm asking you because I spent a month being nobody to the people who had information about whether you were alive. I'm asking because I sat in this apartment with no legal right to know anything and I cannot do that again. I will not do that again."
Caleb looked at you for a long moment then he reached up and put his hand against the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.
"I've wanted to ask you, I kept waiting for the right moment."
"This is the right moment."
"You're proposing to me at four in the morning."
"I am."
The corner of his mouth pulled up. The first real version of his smile you'd seen since he walked through the door, the one that reached all the way up, the one that was so him it made your chest ache.
He pulled you back down against him, arms wrapping around you, lips pressing to the top of your head and staying there. "First thing tomorrow we go to the registration office. We fill out every form they have. We put your name on everything."
You pressed your face into his chest and closed your eyes, this time it wasn't to wait for a notification that never came.
Sweet, forbidden, and blooming beneath golden skies. This garden belongs to Caleb, where every blossom whispers temptation, every apple dares you to take another bite, and every hidden desire sinks its roots deeper than either of you were ever meant to allow.
🧡 Rotten Apples 13k words
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