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.
︵ ೀ mdni. satoru finds your secret sketchbook full of him and in a haste to explain yourself, he offers to be the nude model for your assignment ( artist!reader x sports!satoru / college au / wc 5.8 k )
︵ ೀ series. part one / part two
you've been doing really well, actually. two whole days of successfully avoiding him—not that you're avoiding him, obviously, that would be childish, you've just been taking very specific routes across campus that happen to not cross paths with anywhere he usually is. completely different thing.
so of course, the one time you let your guard down, the one morning you actually allow yourself to sit in the cafeteria like a normal person with your coffee and your sketchbook open to a completely innocent, satoru-free page, you feel the chair across from you scrape back.
you look up.
he drops his tray down and folds himself into the seat like he owns it, which, to be fair, he kind of acts like he owns every seat he sits in. he's in his practice clothes, hair pushed back, looking annoyingly good and unbothered for someone who absolutely should be at least a little embarrassed about that night.
"hey," he says, like it's nothing. like it's any other monday morning and you definitely didn't spend the entire weekend hunched over your desk shading every line of his naked body onto paper, painstakingly getting the light right across his shoulders, his stomach, his cock—
"cool if i sit here?"
"you're already sitting," you say.
"true." he picks up his fork, glancing down at your sketchbook. "how'd the drawing turn out."
"it turned out good," you say, wrapping both hands around your coffee cup. "handed it in this morning actually."
"yeah? what did he say?"
"she," you correct automatically. "professor lee. and she—" you pause, because this is the part you've been equal parts dreading and wanting to tell someone since it happened an hour ago, "she really liked it. said the proportions were the best in the class. said it looked like i actually knew my subject."
satoru grins at that. "obviously."
"don't let it go to your head."
"too late." he steals a piece of fruit off the edge of your tray without asking, which is so aggressively normal and familiar that some of the tension in your shoulders loosens without you meaning it to. "so she liked it. that's good. you were stressed about it."
"and then," you say, because apparently you are going to tell him the whole thing whether you planned to or not, "she asked me who the model was."
satoru raises an eyebrow.
"and i said a friend. and she looked at it for a second and then she was like—" you cover your face briefly, "—'is this gojo satoru? from the athletics team? i've seen him play.'"
satoru puts his fork down. "your professor knows who i am."
"apparently she goes to the home games."
he leans back in his chair with the most insufferably delighted expression you have ever seen on another human being. "so your professor has seen me play and my dick."
"she hasn't seen your—it's a drawing."
"of my dick."
"of your—it's art. it's an anatomy study."
"still my dick though."
"satoru, oh my god, keep your voice down." you glance around the cafeteria, mortified. "it's fine art. there's a difference."
"what's her name."
"no."
"i just want to introduce myself properly. we've already been through something together, it feels rude not to—"
"you are not tracking down my professor."
"i could come to class."
"absolutely not."
"i'm serious, i could be a guest model." he's fully grinning now, leaning forward on his elbows like this is the best idea he's ever had. "your whole class would benefit. very educational."
"you are not coming to my anatomy class."
"why not? i'm clearly qualified. i have references." he nods toward your bag, where your sketchbook is poking out. "got a whole portfolio of evidence right there."
"those are my sketches, not your references."
"same thing." he steals another piece of fruit off your tray, completely unbothered. "so she gave you a good grade at least? after everything i sacrificed for your education?"
"i don't know yet. she has to grade them all first."
"god," he mutters, "why do they always take so long with that."
it's not really a question, so you don't answer it. you just watch him pop another grape into his mouth, and then he's quiet, and then you're both quiet, and that's worse, actually, because silence means your brain immediately fills it with everything you've been successfully not thinking about since friday—
his dorm room, the towel, the chair, then the way he had touched himself, his hand wrapping around his cock, stroking slow at first then faster, the wet sounds. the way he had looked at you and said that he likes you to watch, like he wanted you to see every stroke, every twitch, every drop of precum—
"you're turning red," he says.
you look up. he's watching you over the rim of his water bottle, completely calm, one eyebrow slightly raised.
"i'm not."
"you are." he sets the bottle down. "what are you thinking about."
"nothing."
"uh huh." the corner of his mouth pulls up, just slightly. "nothing that happened friday, or."
"i actually have to go," you say, already reaching for your bag, sketchbook shoved in first, coffee cup grabbed second.
"we should probably talk about friday," he says, easy as anything, like he's suggesting you discuss the weather.
your bag nearly slides off the table. "i'm good, actually."
"you're good."
"yeah." you stand up, pulling your coat off the back of the chair. "totally fine. nothing to talk about."
"i feel like there's a little something to talk about."
"nope." you're already backing away from the table. "i have class."
"you have forty minutes until—"
"lots of things to do before class. very busy. full schedule." you point vaguely in a direction, any direction. "i'll see you around." you turn around before he can see how red your face has gone, already speed-walking toward the exit your coat not even properly on yet.
"we're gonna have to talk about it eventually," he calls after you, loud enough that two people at the next table look up.
you pretend very hard that you didn't hear that.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
it's thursday afternoon when professor lee hands back the assignments, moving through the rows with a small stack of papers tucked under her arm. you're barely breathing by the time she stops at yours. she sets it down in front of you, face up.
A, circled in red pen. and underneath it, in her small, neat handwriting:
best in class. exceptional sensitivity to form and proportion. the familiarity with the subject is evident. it elevates the entire piece.
you stare at it for a second too long.
"i mean it," professor lee says, pausing at your station instead of moving on, which she doesn't usually do. "this is genuinely impressive work. the best figure study i've seen from this class in a few semesters."
"thank you," you manage, still a little stunned.
she tilts her head, glancing at the drawing one more time. "your model—a friend, you said?"
"yeah. just a friend."
"he's clearly very comfortable in his own skin." she says it so matter-of-factly, so professionally, that you almost don't register it. "do you think he'd ever be willing to come in? to pose for the whole class? we're always looking for new models and frankly, he has exactly the kind of build we look for."
you blink at her. "i'm sorry?"
"as a paid model, of course. it's a standard arrangement." she's already moving on to the next student, completely unbreezy about the bombshell she's just dropped. "just think about it. ask him if he's interested."
you sit there for a full minute after she moves away, staring at your a, thinking about how on earth you're supposed to look gojo satoru in the eye and ask him if he wants to get naked in front of your entire class.
you'd survived the sketchbook discovery. you'd survived the dorm room. you'd survived the hallway, and the door, and the sounds, and the cafeteria where you'd basically sprinted away from him like your shoes were on fire.
you had, very carefully and deliberately, been in the process of letting things go back to normal between you. or as close to normal as they could reasonably get given everything.
and now this.
asking him once had been mortifying enough. asking him to do it again, in front of twenty other people, with proper studio lighting and your entire class staring at him—all of him—for three hours straight... you'd rather fail the semester.
you decide, firmly and with great conviction, that you are not going to ask him.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
professor lee catches you on the way out of class the following tuesday.
"did you speak to your model?"
"i—not yet," you say, which is technically true. "i've been meaning to."
"no rush," she says, in a tone that suggests there is a little bit of rush. "i'm planning the spring model schedule and i'd love to lock it in. he'd be compensated well."
"right. yeah. i'll ask him."
you do not ask him.
by friday she stops you again on your way in, before class has even started, a scheduling sheet in her hand and a hopeful look on her face that makes your stomach sink straight to the floor.
"i don't want to keep pestering you," she says, in the way that people say things when they are absolutely going to keep pestering you. "but i showed his study to a colleague of mine and she was equally impressed. if he's open to it, we'd love to have him for at least two sessions."
"two sessions," you repeat faintly.
"the pay is quite good for a few hours of work." she smiles, warm and completely oblivious to the internal crisis happening right in front of her. "and i have to say—your work this semester has been good, but that piece was on a completely different level. there's something that happens when you draw someone you actually know. the confidence in your work, the attention to detail." she tilts her head, like she's genuinely thinking it through. "i think having him as a recurring subject could do a lot for your portfolio. potentially best of semester material, if you keep working at that level."
you stare at her. "best of semester."
"it's early to say," she adds, already heading toward the front of the room. "but i'd be lying if i said i wasn't thinking about it. just something to consider when you talk to him."
she says it so casually, like she hasn't just dangled your entire artistic future in front of you like a carrot on a stick and walked away.
"yeah," you hear yourself say, like someone else has taken over your mouth entirely. "yeah, i'll ask him." you walk to your seat, drop your bag, and sit down.
fine. you're going to have to ask him. however embarrassing, however awkward, however many new levels of humiliation this opens up between you—you are going to have to look gojo satoru in the eye and ask him to come and be naked in front of your entire class.
you pull out your sketchbook and stare blankly at a fresh page.
the things you do for a good grade.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
you find him coming out of the locker room just as training wraps up, which in hindsight you should have timed better. you'd figured you'd catch him on his way out, fully dressed, easy and normal, a quick conversation and then you'd be gone before either of you had time to be weird about it.
instead he pushes through the door with a towel around his waist and another one hanging around his neck that he's using to roughly dry his hair, still dripping, chest still damp, looking entirely too good.
my god, why—why is this a thing now? you went years without ever seeing this man like this. years. it wasn't even hard, it just didn't happen, and you were fine, you were completely fine. and then something changed like three weeks ago and now it's just—towels. constantly.
like the universe looked at your life and went, you know what this needs? more of him, wet, with very few layers on. thank you. very helpful. really appreciate that.
he spots you immediately, eyebrows lifting in surprise. "hey. what are you doing here?"
"i needed to talk to you about something." your eyes have already gone somewhere safe, like the floor, the wall, the water fountain twenty feet down the hall. "sorry, i didn't realize you'd still be—i can wait outside."
"why?" he pulls the towel off his neck, draping it over his shoulder, looking genuinely confused by your reaction. "you've already seen me naked."
"that was different."
"how."
"it just—it was for class, it was a whole—it was a different context, satoru."
"you literally drew my body for weeks without me knowing and now you can't look at me in a hallway." he tilts his head, amused. "make it make sense."
"it makes complete sense and you know it," you mutter, still not fully looking at him. "can you just—put a shirt on or something."
"i just got out of the shower."
"i'm aware."
"my shirt's in my bag."
"then get it out of your bag, satoru."
he laughs, but makes no move toward his bag whatsoever. just stands there, like he's genuinely enjoying watching you try to hold this conversation with the water fountain. "okay. what did you want to talk about."
you take a deep breath, eyes still fixed somewhere over his shoulder. "i need to ask you something and i need you to not make it weird."
"when do i ever make things weird."
"satoru."
"fine. ask."
"my professor asked me—" you stop, start again. "she really liked the drawing. like, a lot. best in class, apparently."
"obviously." he leans against the wall, arms crossing over his bare chest, completely unbothered. "and?"
"and she wants to know if you'd be willing to come in." you say it fast, the way you rip off a bandaid. "to pose. for the whole class. like, as a proper model. she'd pay you."
he stares at you for a second. "the whole class," he repeats.
"yeah."
"like, all of them. sitting there drawing me."
"that's—yes. that's what a class model is."
"naked."
"that's what a figure model is, yes."
he's quiet for a beat, which is somehow more nerve-wracking than if he'd immediately said something. then he tilts his head, studying you with that unreadable look he gets sometimes. "and you'd be there."
"i mean—it's my class, so yes, i'd—"
"so you'd be drawing me again."
"along with twenty other people, yes."
"hm." he looks almost entertained now, pushing off the wall. "and you ask this because—"
"professor lee said it could be best of semester for me," you mutter, hating how small it sounds out loud. "my portfolio. if i keep drawing you, apparently my work is on a different level and—"
"so you need me."
you close your eyes briefly. "yes. fine. i need you."
he's quiet for a second. "okay," he says finally.
you blink. "okay?"
"yeah." he shrugs, like it's nothing at all. "i'll do it."
"just like that?"
"just like that." he reaches back for the towel around his shoulder, giving his hair one last rough pass with it. "but i want something in return."
"what kind of something."
"a drawing."
"a drawing," you repeat slowly, waiting for the rest of it.
"yeah." he says it completely simply, like that's the whole sentence, like that explains anything at all.
"what kind of drawing."
"i'll let you know when the time comes." he's already turning back toward the locker room, clearly very pleased with the level of vagueness he's just gave you.
"satoru." you take a step after him. "what does that mean, you'll let me know when the time comes. you have to give me more than that."
"it's a drawing. you're an artist. not exactly a hardship." he glances back over his shoulder, smirking. "unless you're worried about what i'm going to ask for."
"i'm not worried."
"you look a little worried."
"i look normal. tell me what the drawing is."
"later." he pushes the locker room door open with one hand, completely unbothered, like he hasn't just left you standing in a hallway with the world's most open-ended agreement hanging over your head. "talk to your professor. set up the dates."
"satoru—"
the door swings shut behind him. you stand there for a second, staring at it.
what did you just agree to.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
the following days are, frankly, not great for your mental health.
it starts small—a passing thought while you're brushing your teeth sunday morning, a quick what did he mean by that before you shake it off and move on. fine. totally manageable.
by monday it's less manageable. you're sitting in your color theory lecture staring at a slide about complementary palettes but your brain is persistently thinking about it in the background like an app you forgot to close. a drawing. what kind of drawing. why wouldn't he just say what kind of drawing.
tuesday you're in the studio working on a still life and your roommate asks you three times why you keep stopping to stare at nothing and you say you're just thinking about composition which is technically not a lie.
wednesday is when it gets genuinely bad. you're lying on your bed at midnight, sketchbook resting on your stomach, pencil tapping against the page, going through the options in your head.
a portrait, maybe. something normal. that would be fine, that would be completely fine, you could do a portrait no problem. except satoru doesn't do anything without a reason and he definitely wouldn't have been that mysterious about a portrait. which brings you back to the other option sitting at the back of your mind that you keep trying to evict.
a nude.
another one. something he could actually keep this time, something personal, not a class assignment. a drawing he could—your brain unhelpfully supplies the image of him showing it to some girl, grinning, look what my friend drew me, isn't that insane—
you groan and pull your pillow over your face.
that's what it is, isn't it. he wants a proper one. something finished and framed and entirely too detailed that he can use as the world's most unhinged conversation starter with whoever he's currently interested in.
he'd basically said it himself, that night in his dorm. the most insane nude i could ever send to a girl, he'd said, grinning like the thought genuinely delighted him.
you'd laughed at the time. you're not laughing now.
or maybe this time he wants you to actually draw him pleasuring himself or something, his hand wrapped around that thick length, stroking himself the way he had that night while he looked at you and told you to stay and watch.
you wonder how that would go, would he stare at you the whole time, eyes dark and locked on yours while his hand moves on his cock? would he moan loudly, the low rough sounds filling the room the way they had that night? would he have to go a few rounds if you are not fast enough to finish the drawing the first time, his cock getting hard again and again while you try to capture every detail? does he take long to finish, or would he come quick and hard with you watching every twitch and every drop?
you would not survive this.
at least professor lee was happy when you told her. she'd practically lit up, already pulling out her scheduling sheet before you'd even finished the sentence, penciling satoru in for two sessions with the kind of excitement she usually reserved for particularly good student work. she'd called him a find, which was such a professor way to describe gojo satoru that you'd almost laughed.
it was the only good part of the whole week.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
the morning of the first session you get to the studio early, which you tell yourself is because you want a good spot near the window for the light and absolutely not because you need five minutes alone in the room before everyone else arrives to mentally prepare yourself.
your classmates filter in one by one, morning chatter filling the studio and the usual scrape of easels being adjusted and pencils being uncapped. normal. fine. you set up your station, clipped a fresh sheet to your board, told yourself this was just another class.
and then maya, who sits two easels down from you, glances at the model release sheet professor lee has left on the front table and does a very audible double take.
"wait." she picks it up, turning to the room. "is our model today gojo satoru?"
the energy in the room shifts immediately.
"the gojo satoru?" someone says from the back. "from the athletics team?"
"oh my god, i've seen him at the games." this from jess, who is already setting up her pencils. "he's like, genuinely unreal looking. i saw him at the spring championship and i thought i was going to pass out."
"same, he's so tall—"
"and his shoulders—"
"i heard he's like, built like actually insanely well—"
you are staring very hard at your blank page, pencil gripped too tight in your hand, willing yourself not to react to a single word of this.
"wonder what he looks like underneath all that," maya says, in that way that makes three people laugh and makes you want to fold yourself directly into your easel and never come out.
"i mean, we're about to find out," jess says.
"lucky us."
"lucky us is right."
you make a very small, very quiet noise into your sketchbook that no one hears, which is good, because you don't fully have a way to explain it.
professor lee chooses this moment to walk in, satoru a half step behind her, and the room goes just slightly electric in the way it does when someone walks in and everyone clocks them at once. he's in his regular clothes still—sweatpants and a loose shirt—looking completely unbothered by the sudden weight of twenty pairs of eyes, because of course he does, he's satoru, he was probably born unbothered.
his eyes find you immediately across the room. he grins. you look back at your paper.
"good morning everyone," professor lee says, setting her bag down. "as you can see, we have a new model joining us for the next two sessions. this is satoru. please make him feel welcome and remember our studio etiquette—professional environment, focused work."
"hi satoru," the class choruses, with significantly more warmth than you've ever heard directed at a model before, and a few of them are already giggling before they even finish saying it.
"hey," he says easily, lifting a hand, and you can hear the smile in it without even looking.
"oh he's even better up close," someone whispers, not quietly enough.
you close your eyes briefly.
i drew him, you think. i spent a friday night in his dorm room watching him stand there like that and i drew every single line of him and then worked on it for two days and i got an A and none of you will ever know that and i am going to take it to my grave.
so, there's nothing to worry about. you've already seen him naked, you remind yourself, very firmly, like a person who is totally fine. this is nothing new. this is just—a repeat viewing, basically. a familiar subject in a professional context. you have already seen everything there is to see, you have already drawn it, you are already ahead of everyone else in this room by approximately one very eventful friday night.
there is absolutely nothing to be worried about.
you are not going to survive this class.
professor lee gestures toward the changing area. "satoru, whenever you're ready."
"sure." he glances across the room one more time, finds you again, and there's something in his expression that's almost like he's checking in, just briefly, before he disappears behind the curtain.
you pick up your pencil.
you are so not going to survive this class.
and then the curtain moves, and satoru steps out. the room goes completely quiet.
not the polite, professional quiet of a figure drawing class but the stunned, collective, nobody-planned-to-stop-breathing quiet of twenty people registering something all at once and not quite having a response ready for it.
you keep your eyes on your sketchbook for exactly four seconds before you look up, because you're only human.
he's standing at the edge of the platform professor lee uses for her models, completely at ease, even though he's standing in front of a room full of art students in absolutely nothing at all. one hand resting loosely at his side, weight shifted onto one leg, like he's just waiting for someone to tell him where to stand.
"okay," maya breathes, from two easels down, in a tone that isn't really meant for anyone in particular.
someone's pencil rolls off their easel and hits the floor. nobody moves to pick it up.
professor lee, bless her, clears her throat. "alright. let's start with a few short gesture poses, two minutes each, before we move into the longer study. satoru, if you could—"
"yeah, wherever you need me." he steps up onto the platform, and the light from the studio windows catches him in a way that makes the whole thing feel almost unreasonably unfair, like the universe is just showing off now.
"oh my god," jess whispers, so quietly it barely counts as a sound.
you look back down at your paper.
you've seen this before, you remind yourself. you've seen all of this. you are calm. you are professional. you are an artist in a figure drawing class doing exactly what artists in figure drawing classes do. and he is not standing there enjoying every second of the effect he's having on this room, and you are not nervous about it.
you chance one more glance up at him.
he's already looking directly at you, the smallest smirk sitting at the corner of his mouth, like he knows exactly what every single person in this room is currently experiencing and finds it very funny.
you look back down so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
the two minute gestures blur into longer poses, and the room settles into the kind of quiet that only really happens when everyone is actually invested in what they're drawing. except the investment in this particular class feels distinctly less academic than usual.
maya keeps exhaling these small, controlled breaths like she's actively regulating herself. someone in the back row has been erasing and redrawing the same line for the last ten minutes, which has nothing to do with the line being wrong and everything to do with needing an excuse to keep looking. jess fanned herself with her reference sheet at one point, caught professor lee's eye, and stopped.
and then there's the girl to your left. hana, who is usually one of the most technically precise people in the class, ruler-straight lines and perfect proportions. you glance over at her sketchbook once, casually, the way you sometimes do to check where everyone else is in the drawing.
she is on her fourth detailed study of satoru's... manhood.
fourth.
you look back at your own paper immediately, pressing your lips together very hard. professional environment, professor lee had said. focused work. you add a careful shadow along satoru's shoulder and say nothing.
the class continues, pose after pose, and the light shifts slightly as the morning progresses. you almost forget that satoru gojo, your longest friend, is standing right in front of you, naked. it's easier than friday night, somehow, with twenty other people in the room and professor lee moving quietly between easels. more structured. safer. except—
you look up to check the angle of his jaw for the third time and find him already looking at you yet again. you glance back down. look up again a minute later to check the line of his shoulder. still looking at you.
not at the room, not at the middle distance the way models usually do when they're holding a pose. at you, specifically. you drop your gaze back to your sketchbook. look up again two minutes later. still you.
you try, very subtly, to gesture with your eyes. a small, deliberate flick to the left, toward the window, toward literally anywhere else in the room that isn't directly at you. he blinks. stays exactly where he is, gaze not moving an inch.
you try again. a tiny tilt of your head. look somewhere else, you are sending him every possible telepathic signal you have, you are burning through your entire reserve of nonverbal communication, look at the wall, look at the window, look at maya, look at literally anything—
he almost smiles. doesn't move his eyes.
you widen yours slightly, a last desperate attempt.
he raises one eyebrow, barely perceptible, like he's asking what exactly you think you're doing.
"satoru." professor lee's voice cuts through the room, not looking up from the student drawing she's currently reviewing. "eyes forward please."
the class doesn't look up. you look down.
and from across the room, so quietly that you're almost sure you imagined it, you hear him exhale something that sounds very much like a laugh.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
you take longer than necessary packing up your things. unclipping your sheet from the easel slowly, sliding your pencils back into their case one by one, straightening the edge of your sketchbook even though it doesn't need straightening. around you the rest of the class files out, and they are not quiet about it.
"his shoulders," someone says, not even bothering to lower their voice, and a round of giggles breaks out near the door.
"did you see his—" jess starts.
"yes," two people say at once.
"does anyone have his number?" someone asks, completely serious, and the giggles tip over into full laughter that echoes down the hallway and slowly fades.
you stare very hard at your pencil case.
from behind the curtain comes the soft sounds of satoru getting dressed, and professor lee is tidying the platform, humming quietly to herself. then she pauses, glancing toward the curtain.
"satoru, i just want to say—you were wonderful today. very natural in front of the class. some models take weeks to settle into it."
"thanks." his voice comes through easy and relaxed. "wasn't so bad."
"the students responded really well. you have a real presence. it translates onto the page beautifully."
"good to know i'm useful for something other than sports."
professor lee laughs, soft and genuine, in a way you've genuinely never heard from her in a full semester. you hear her gather her things shortly after, the click of her bag, the soft tap of her shoes crossing the studio floor.
"see you both next week," she says warmly on her way out, and then she's gone, door swinging shut behind her, and the studio is suddenly very quiet.
you're still standing at your easel pretending to organize your pencils when the curtain shifts and satoru steps out, fully dressed, hair slightly disheveled from pulling his shirt on. he's looking down at his phone with an expression you can't quite read from here.
"hey," you say.
"hey." he holds his phone up, turning it slightly so you can see the screen without fully crossing the room. there's a new contact open. a name you recognize. "i think your professor just gave me her number."
"she did not."
"slipped it under the curtain on a little piece of paper." he sounds genuinely amazed, somewhere between flattered and delighted. "like an old school note. actual handwriting and everything."
"satoru, she's our professor—"
"she's your professor." he tucks his phone away, grinning now, fully pleased with himself. "i'm just the model."
"you cannot date our professor."
"why not? she's smart, she has good taste—" he gestures loosely at himself, "—clearly. i think we have a real connection."
"oh my god." you finally give up on pretending to organize your pencils, turning to face him fully. "i am not having this conversation."
"you're the one who brought me here. this is on you."
"i did not bring you here so you could get my professor's number—"
"technically you did though." he leans back against the nearest easel, arms crossing, way too comfortable with all of this. "you asked me to come. i came. connections were made. can't control chemistry."
"satoru—"
"relax." the grin shifts into something softer. he tilts his head, watching you with that quiet look again. "i'm messing with you."
"i know you're messing with me."
"do you? because you went pretty red pretty fast for someone who knew."
you open your mouth. close it.
he uncrosses his arms, pushing off the easel, and there's something different in the way he moves now, slower, more deliberate, like he's not in a hurry anymore. he closes the distance between you by one step, then another, until he's close enough that you have to tilt your head up slightly to look at him properly.
"don't worry. i'm not gonna call her." his hand comes up and he tucks a loose strand of hair back from your face, fingers barely grazing your cheek, the touch so brief and light you almost convince yourself it didn't happen. "there's already someone i like."
the studio goes very quiet.
you should say something. you are a person with a working mouth and a functional brain and you should say something.
"you don't want to ask who?" he says, and there's the ghost of a smile there, but it's softer than usual. less like he's winning something and more like he's nervous and trying not to show it.
you look up at him. "...who?"
he looks at you for a long second. his hand hasn't moved far, still hovering near your cheek, close enough that you can feel the warmth of it. and then he leans in, slow enough that you could step back if you wanted to, close enough that you can feel him before you can hear him, his lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear when he speaks.
"you," he says, quiet, just for you. "obviously."
he stays there for a moment, close, warm, not moving away yet. you're pretty sure you've forgotten how breathing works.
and then satoru backs up, easy and unhurried, like he didn't just say that, like the last thirty seconds didn't happen at all. he picks up his bag from the floor, slings it over his shoulder, and glances back at you on his way to the door. "see you next session," he says, and the smile is back.
the door clicks shut behind him.
you stand there in the empty studio for a very long moment.
"next session," you repeat, to no one.
note: please do not ask for updates or comment "next part?" or something like that. if there is an update, i will post it. ppl who continue to demand updates will be blocked.
i appreciate your comments and love hearing your thoughts on the story, but demands for updates make me anxious. have a good day everyone ♡
It’s been days. No texts, no stupid voice notes of him rambling about his day, no random “you eat yet?” messages as soon as you got off work like clockwork. This isn’t Valko. Your puppy is glued to his phone when it comes to you. So after one too many hours of anxious pacing, you grab the spare key he gave you months ago (“just in case, sweetheart”) and storm over to his place.
Your heart is hammering the whole way. Worst case scenarios flash through your head, him passed out, bleeding, hurt over something he didn’t tell you about. You’d take that.
But the second you push the door open, the air hits you like whiplash.
Stuffy. Thick. Heavy with something musky, sweet, and feral that makes your stomach flip. That’s when you hear it, muffled, desperate panting, broken groans, the faint creak of a bedframe.
Your brain short circuits. You don’t think. Before you have time to mentally catch up, you just move, storming straight to his massive bedroom and shoving the door open.
And holy fuck.
Valko is sprawled across his bed, completely naked, skin glistening with sweat. His ears are fully out, twitching wildly. His tail thumps hard against the sheets. He’s fisting his cock with frantic, sloppy strokes, that’s when you notice; it’s huge, thick, flushed dark and leaking all over his abs. His chiseled chest heaves, abs flexing with every desperate roll of his hips. Those thick thighs are trembling. And when your eyes finally drag up to his face… his eyes are glazed over, cheeks flushed crimson, and there are actual tears clinging to his lashes.
He looks wrecked
You’re frozen in the doorway, mouth hanging open unable to look away from the obscene sight. The way his big hand struggles to even wrap fully around himself. The way his hips keep bucking up like he can’t stop. The wet, filthy sounds filling the room.
Before you can even process it, his movements stutter to a halt.
Wide, frantic golden eyes snap to yours. His ears shoot straight up. For a second he just stares at you, chest still heaving, cock twitching hard in his grip like it has a mind of its own.
Then something clicks behind that hazy gaze.
“…You’re here,” he rasps, voice wrecked and deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A broken groan slips out as something seems to overwhelm him, making his hips jerk involuntarily into his fist again. “Fuck- you… you shouldn’t see me like this-“
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 🧎🏻♀️🫣
One hundred forty-three rounds later, and you’ve finally won.
Every bulging, sweaty muscle strains as you laugh on top of Valko for the final lunge, pinning him by his throat and waist into the mats below.
“Haha, and that’s victory for me!”
He grumbles in response, pouting although you see the ghost of a smile curl against his lips. “Ya right. You tripped me, dirty little minx.”
You coo at his adorable sulking, “Big bad wolf can't handle a little bit of dirty play?” Pressing your forearm harder, you watch something dark flicker in Valko’s eyes as his breath stutters. “Don’t you know your enemies will be ready to exploit your every weakness?”
The room is filled with both of your ragged breathing, sweat dripping between your tanged bodies, undoubtedly soaking through your bra and shorts. The air sticks to you, hot and sticky.
Valko takes a deep inhale, chest rising under your palm, before going unnaturally still. The stillness of a predator ready to jump.
You tense, anticipating him to wrestle you off and begin the next match, and yet it never comes.
No. Instead, you’re met with the unmistakable feeling of something growing harder, larger, pushing up against your clothed ass.
The flush on your face is no longer just from exhaustion.
“Did you- are you—”
Valko’s whine cuts you off, his eyes screwed shut as if in horrible pain. “Don’t. Please.”
He’s trembling. Every hulking muscle under you straining as his enormous palms come up to cup your thighs, nails digging in.
“I just,” Valko lets out another whine, pitched and desperate, his amber eyes snapping open and begging up at you no better than a puppy would. “Ah shit, you’re so perfect. Fight perfect, smell perfect,” one broad hand goes to your ass, squeezing hard enough to pull a startled yelp from you, the sound shooting through him like another strike. “Feel perfect.”
Fuck.
Something about losing to you, about the ache blooming through his body where your blows had landed, the solid weight of you pinning him effortlessly into the worn training mats… perhaps it should have bruised his pride or made him fired up.
Instead, it leaves Valko fucking dizzy.
Your scent surrounds him, swallowed with every inhale Valko takes, intoxicating and cloying on his tongue as though he could taste you already. It’s sweet and a little spicy, like cardamom or amber, filling his brain with static as his every instinct narrows down on you and your body. To lay claim. To take.
He doesn't mean to keep nuzzling into your sweat-slicked body. One breath isn't enough, then another isn't either, every deeper pull filling his head with a pleasant, humming need that leaves less and less room for coherent thought.
Acceptance.
Need.
Mate.
Despite your full weight still pinning him to the floor, Valko's hips buck sharply up into yours, nearly throwing you off him. But his hand tightens against your ass, forcing you down into the movement at the exact same time he grinds his still-growing erection right up into your clothed pussy.
You both moan at the mere contact.
More. He needs more.
His hips don’t stop moving, pushing up into you with quick little rabbit thrusts, Valko’s head thrown back in a deep, unashamed moan as he chases the friction. His jaw opens, nearly drooling, about to manhandle you into a better position to grind against when you lean back down.
And slap him right across the face.
Immediately, he freezes, blinking and shaking away the shock and arousal from his face. His cock jumps from between your thighs, though, and that’s all the confirmation you need as Valko looks back up at you with wide eyes.
“Behave, puppy.”
You place your hand around his neck, grinding your hips backward as you watch Valko’s eyes roll back.
“I won,” you remind him. “That means you listen to me.”
He nods with so much enthusiasm you almost worry about his neck.
“Yeah, yes. Of course. I can take it, please.” Anything, anything for you to keep touching him.
Your hips are flush against his, grinding up and down just like you would be if you were riding him. The thought alone has Valko moaning louder, completely uncaring if anyone heard, voice hoarse as you squeeze his throat tighter.
It’s teasing both of you to insanity, so close and not nearly close enough. Friction hot and pressing right up against your clit, but doing nothing to ease the growing ache between your thighs. It doesn't help that the outline of his dick is enough to grind on, wide enough to part your lips and feel strain against your clothed pussy. Fuck, imagining all that power, that size stretching inside you…
You’re no better than animals in heat, gasping and panting as your hips never stop moving, spine arching as his tip catches your clit. “Ahhh, good job, baby, making me feel so good. Good boy.”
Valko keens at the praise. “Thank you, thank you. I’m your good boy, I’ll be such a good boy.”
He’s drooling as he writhes beneath you, nails clawing into the floor with the restraint it takes not to flip you over and rip your shorts off before fucking until both of you pass out. Bite and mark you as his. Fill you with his seed until he’s shooting blanks, watch you drip with his cum, push his knot inside you and cum again and again and again—
You laugh. Poor thing doesn’t even realize he’s moaning all of this out loud.
“Shhh, I’ll let you, puppy.” Leaning down, you kiss him just to shut him up, licking into his open mouth. “I’ll let you breed me.”
“Fuuuck yes.”
Valko’s tongue shoves into your mouth, hot, invasive, lapping into the kiss. You let him, kissing with teeth and tongue, spit spilling down the side of his mouth as he takes more and more. He bullies himself closer, greedy for every scrap of attention, chasing each inch you’re willing to give and always reaching for one more.
“I’m sorry, feels so good, too good.” Valko groans, every thrust becoming more sloppy, and you can tell from how sloppy his kisses are and the unevenness of his thrusts that he’s already close.
You click your tongue as though reprimanding a spoiled pet before breaking the kiss, hand tightening around his throat.
Valko breaks away instantly with a sharp gasp, chest heaving. His eyes snap to yours, dazed and teary, as though being stopped is its own reward. “Sorry, m’sorry. Please keep kissing me, please, I’m sorry.” Another whimper. “You said you’d help me, ya? P-please baby, let me cum.”
“And let you stain my favorite gym shorts with your cum? I don’t think so, puppy,” you scold, teasing your fingers up his rough undercut.
His breath catches so abruptly his whole body gives a tiny, involuntary jolt, shoulders loosening beneath your hand as a slow shiver rolls down his spine at the mere touch. If his ears were manifested, they would be pulled back, his body chasing the sensation before his mind could catch up, leaning instinctively into your palm like some half-domesticated thing desperate for another touch.
Every instinct urges him to reclaim your mouth, to grind back into your clothed pussy, but he forces himself still. Because that’s what you’ve taught him to do.
What a good boy.
Lifting your hips, Valko sobs at the loss of your heat. Your free hand reaches down instead, shucking down his sweat-drenched shorts and boxers in one tug, his cock bouncing out from its confines.
It springs against Valko’s abdomen with a wet slap, every bulging, veiny inch a sensitive pink, tip swollen and leaking all over his pretty red happy trail.
Valko whines, bucking into the air, “Please-ohhh-please let me in you. I’ll make you feel s’good, I’ll be so good. Ah fuck, come on.”
Something, anything to release this unbearable pressure swelling up at the base of his dick.
So you slap him again, and this time the second the crack echoes across the room so does his moan. A fresh spurt of pre-cum stains his abs, so much leaking and spilling down his stomach, you’re damn near concerned.
“Shh, don’t be too loud, someone might hear how desperate you are, baby.” You kiss his forehead and strip.
First you peel off the sports bra, then kick down your shorts and panties, smiling at Valko’s star-struck expression before dropping back down completely bare onto his muscular thighs.
“Come here, puppy.”
He obeys immediately, sitting up faster than humanly possible and ramming his lips onto yours, hands fighting to cup your breasts before he thinks better of it and curls them against his sides into trembling fists.
You hum into the kiss, guiding his hands up to your skin, “Go on, you can touch me.”
Two massive arms engulf you. Valko’s already nuzzling into your bare chest, mouthing at the lines of sweat collected from your sports bra, hot tongue dragging against every inch of skin. There’s no rhythm, no logic, just sloppy licking between your breasts before sucking at your nipples, around and up until he’s at your collarbone, every sensation so overwhelming that you feel yourself soaking his thigh.
“M’sorry, can’t stop. Taste so sweet…” Valko’s licking another long strip up your neck before finding a spot that makes you whine, nipping and teething at it while his hands come up to pinch and roll your swollen nipples. You moan at the feeling of it all, hips rolling against his quads as he purposefully tenses the ridges of muscle underneath you, letting you grind against him.
Once again, the two of you are humping each other like dogs, except this time there’s no more clothing to get in the way.
Your bare cunt envelopes his throbbing cock, every movement heightened by loud, wet sounds of the two sliding together, pseudo fucking in a way that drives both of you insane. The taste and smell of you is overwhelming, Valko dipping his head to suck at your nipple while bucking up into you, abs flexing, drenched with sweat and your combined slick as his cock drags past your clit, pressing desperately right up against your cunt before slipping to your ass and coming right back again.
His frustration is becoming obvious. Low growls muffled into your chest as grinding turns to proper thrusting, tip ramming at your entrance just too thick to push in and your thighs too slippery to find purchase.
“Shit! it’s not– not fitting. Please, let me in.” He’s begging, drooling against your chest. ”Please sweetheart, please doll.”
You want it just as badly. So you tug on his hair, pulling Valko on top of you as you lie down, and slowly turning yourself around until your chest is pressed into the training mats beneath you.
Valko’s frozen like a predator just narrowed in on a prey.
Except that prey is you. Your teasing smile lured him in, and your bare, dripping cunt presented to him like heaven mere inches from his drooling face.
Arching your back deeper, you smile as you finally give him what he’s been dying for. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, Valko, ya? Wanna knot me?”
He’s barely breathing, golden eyes glowing slightly as they lock with yours, unblinking. “Yes.”
Then, he pounces.
In a blink, his six-foot-something body slams into yours, shoving your face into the floor, one arm effortlessly forcing your ass higher to meet his hips and the other pinning your back into a deep arch to accommodate the weight of his chest now pressed against your spine.
Completely mounted, your muscles scream from the stretch and pressure his body gives, his heavy cock still leaking violently from between your spread thighs, thrusting between them, a puddle of his pre-cum splattering down between you.
You laugh into the mats, right where you want to be as you goad him into taking all that he wants and more. “Go on then, puppy. Claim me, take me, make me yours—!”
You can’t even finish your teasing before Valko bullies himself inside you with one violent thrust. Hands dig grooves into your thighs, pawing at your ass, stomach, chest, all while pulling you backward into every powerful thrust.
Valko’s head drops with another unashamed moan, tongue lolling out to lick at your nape and spine, drooling with every tight flutter your walls squeeze around him. God, you’re gushing. He’s glued to the mess where your bodies meet, your ass bouncing with each thrust, taking him so perfectly he’s losing his mind.
“Ohhh you feel so good.” Pressing deeper, his hand snakes around to press against your lower stomach, feeling the outline of his dick as you scream into the floor. Valko groans, babbling into your ear as his hips snap faster. “I know pretty thing. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
He’s repeating it against your neck between licks and nibbles, still not letting up any of his force. You feel something unmistakable swell against the curves of your ass, knocking against your cunt and thick enough to hit your clit too, each slap making you sob from pleasure-pain.
“Gonna f-fuck my little mate full of my cum, then eat you out, then fuck you again—oh fuck. Love you and this perfect pussy,” Valko’s slurring his words, talkative as ever and loud enough for the entire training facility to hear him moan.
His thrusts turn deeper, unable to part with your heat, his knot grinding furiously against your clit as you feel your body begin to tremble. “She’s takin me so well, so tight. Mhmm I’ll fill her well, give her everything she wants, fuck her full-full of my knot.”
God, he needs to shut up or you’re going to cum.
“Shh,” you hush him before breaking into a moan. “Too loud, Valko. Someone could—ahh fuck—hear you!”
Oh, but he can’t! He can’t, not when he finally feels your pussy begin to cream around him with your impending orgasm, almost wet enough to take all of him and his knot! This is what you want too don’t you see? This is what his pretty little mate needs.
Valko can’t even comprehend what he’s saying anymore, just growling and moaning into your neck as he drops his arms to properly rub at your clit and tug at your sensitive nipples, biting down into the junction of your shoulder and neck as you squirt all over his thighs with a pitched scream.
“Good pup, good mate, keep cumming for me.” Valko licks at the pin-pricks of blood blooming from his bite, going right back to babbling into your ears as his thrusts turn rougher. “Ready to take me, have my knot, my cum, oooh youfeelsogood.”
In a last attempt to muffle your boyfriend's horny sobs, you squirm beneath him to grab your gym shorts and stuff Valko’s mouth with them, gagging him with the sweat-stained spandex. And he simply takes it, open mouth drooling all over your clothes as he gets drunk off the scent of your sweat and arousal stained into them.
You both gasp at the feeling of his knot finally pressing into your entrance, the swollen, heavy weight of it forcing you several more inches open before slipping back out. Again, and again.
Instinctively, you run away, like a bunny cornered by a wolf, writhing underneath him as Valko snarls, hands engulfing your hips entirely as he drags you back onto his cock, forcing you still with so little effort it's laughable. Nothing stops him from pressing in deeper and deeper, your poor cunt finally yielding to his knot, the burn making you drool into the floor as Valko moans into your makeshift gag.
It’s forever and only seconds, your orgasm-sensitive pussy drooling enough to help him slide in fully, greedily sucking up every extra inch he gives you until you both feel the pop! of his knot finally catching inside you. It presses every damn inch inside you so perfectly you cum again, wailing and trembling as your thighs begin to go limp.
No matter, Valko just holds you up anyway. It’s not like he could pull out of you now, even if he wanted to. Not until he filled you with his cum, at least.
You’re still shaking from the prolonged orgasm, and Valko lets the rest of your body fall to the floor, following you down until his body is smushed atop yours, pressing you both into a mean prone bone.
It just makes him feel bigger. Your head is spinning with all the sudden pressure, his fat tip kissing your cervix as he rocks back and forth, his knot still grinding into that squishy spot against your walls, the heat and weight of his chest pressing into your back, and of course, his muffled moans and rambles still going strong even through your panties.
“Cum, Valko.” You’re barely thinking straight either, already right at the edge again as Valko’s thrusts turn sloppy, his body shaking. “Fill me up, b-breed me. Become mine.”
He’s cumming.
Valko whimpers into your neck as his hips snap one last time into yours, grinding as you feel the warm gush of his release spurt violently inside you, filling and filling and filling you up. So much, too much. Too much that cum squirts out from even the tight plug of his knot, dripping down both of your thighs even as Valko whines at the waste.
He doesn’t seem to fully realize he’s done, still rolling his hips into yours, each one powerful enough to drag your bodies tangled along the floor.
“Nooo, Valko,” you whine, trapped under his weight and still inflated with his knot. “Valko, stop, sensitive! Too sensitive.”
Your hands helplessly shove and push backward at the enormous man lying on top of you, not even budging him as he continues to nuzzle himself into your sweat-slicked back.
Finally, you manage to yank your clothes out from his mouth, releasing him from the gag as he simply sighs in pleasure, licking and nipping at your ear before dragging his tongue in a long, messy line down your neck.
“You’re so heavy. Get. Off!” Each word is a shove, but Valko only laughs at the effort. He does take mercy on your poor abused body though, and grabbing your waist with one hand, rolls the two of you over. You now rest on his plush chest instead, both of you heaving as you lie still pumped full of his knot and cum.
“M’sorry, guest instinct just took over there, y’know? You’re not hurt, are you?”
One hundred forty-three rounds later, and you’ve finally won.
Every bulging, sweaty muscle strains as you laugh on top of Valko for the final lunge, pinning him by his throat and waist into the mats below.
“Haha, and that’s victory for me!”
He grumbles in response, pouting although you see the ghost of a smile curl against his lips. “Ya right. You tripped me, dirty little minx.”
You coo at his adorable sulking, “Big bad wolf can't handle a little bit of dirty play?” Pressing your forearm harder, you watch something dark flicker in Valko’s eyes as his breath stutters. “Don’t you know your enemies will be ready to exploit your every weakness?”
The room is filled with both of your ragged breathing, sweat dripping between your tanged bodies, undoubtedly soaking through your bra and shorts. The air sticks to you, hot and sticky.
Valko takes a deep inhale, chest rising under your palm, before going unnaturally still. The stillness of a predator ready to jump.
You tense, anticipating him to wrestle you off and begin the next match, and yet it never comes.
No. Instead, you’re met with the unmistakable feeling of something growing harder, larger, pushing up against your clothed ass.
The flush on your face is no longer just from exhaustion.
“Did you- are you—”
Valko’s whine cuts you off, his eyes screwed shut as if in horrible pain. “Don’t. Please.”
He’s trembling. Every hulking muscle under you straining as his enormous palms come up to cup your thighs, nails digging in.
“I just,” Valko lets out another whine, pitched and desperate, his amber eyes snapping open and begging up at you no better than a puppy would. “Ah shit, you’re so perfect. Fight perfect, smell perfect,” one broad hand goes to your ass, squeezing hard enough to pull a startled yelp from you, the sound shooting through him like another strike. “Feel perfect.”
Fuck.
Something about losing to you, about the ache blooming through his body where your blows had landed, the solid weight of you pinning him effortlessly into the worn training mats… perhaps it should have bruised his pride or made him fired up.
Instead, it leaves Valko fucking dizzy.
Your scent surrounds him, swallowed with every inhale Valko takes, intoxicating and cloying on his tongue as though he could taste you already. It’s sweet and a little spicy, like cardamom or amber, filling his brain with static as his every instinct narrows down on you and your body. To lay claim. To take.
He doesn't mean to keep nuzzling into your sweat-slicked body. One breath isn't enough, then another isn't either, every deeper pull filling his head with a pleasant, humming need that leaves less and less room for coherent thought.
Acceptance.
Need.
Mate.
Despite your full weight still pinning him to the floor, Valko's hips buck sharply up into yours, nearly throwing you off him. But his hand tightens against your ass, forcing you down into the movement at the exact same time he grinds his still-growing erection right up into your clothed pussy.
You both moan at the mere contact.
More. He needs more.
His hips don’t stop moving, pushing up into you with quick little rabbit thrusts, Valko’s head thrown back in a deep, unashamed moan as he chases the friction. His jaw opens, nearly drooling, about to manhandle you into a better position to grind against when you lean back down.
And slap him right across the face.
Immediately, he freezes, blinking and shaking away the shock and arousal from his face. His cock jumps from between your thighs, though, and that’s all the confirmation you need as Valko looks back up at you with wide eyes.
“Behave, puppy.”
You place your hand around his neck, grinding your hips backward as you watch Valko’s eyes roll back.
“I won,” you remind him. “That means you listen to me.”
He nods with so much enthusiasm you almost worry about his neck.
“Yeah, yes. Of course. I can take it, please.” Anything, anything for you to keep touching him.
Your hips are flush against his, grinding up and down just like you would be if you were riding him. The thought alone has Valko moaning louder, completely uncaring if anyone heard, voice hoarse as you squeeze his throat tighter.
It’s teasing both of you to insanity, so close and not nearly close enough. Friction hot and pressing right up against your clit, but doing nothing to ease the growing ache between your thighs. It doesn't help that the outline of his dick is enough to grind on, wide enough to part your lips and feel strain against your clothed pussy. Fuck, imagining all that power, that size stretching inside you…
You’re no better than animals in heat, gasping and panting as your hips never stop moving, spine arching as his tip catches your clit. “Ahhh, good job, baby, making me feel so good. Good boy.”
Valko keens at the praise. “Thank you, thank you. I’m your good boy, I’ll be such a good boy.”
He’s drooling as he writhes beneath you, nails clawing into the floor with the restraint it takes not to flip you over and rip your shorts off before fucking until both of you pass out. Bite and mark you as his. Fill you with his seed until he’s shooting blanks, watch you drip with his cum, push his knot inside you and cum again and again and again—
You laugh. Poor thing doesn’t even realize he’s moaning all of this out loud.
“Shhh, I’ll let you, puppy.” Leaning down, you kiss him just to shut him up, licking into his open mouth. “I’ll let you breed me.”
“Fuuuck yes.”
Valko’s tongue shoves into your mouth, hot, invasive, lapping into the kiss. You let him, kissing with teeth and tongue, spit spilling down the side of his mouth as he takes more and more. He bullies himself closer, greedy for every scrap of attention, chasing each inch you’re willing to give and always reaching for one more.
“I’m sorry, feels so good, too good.” Valko groans, every thrust becoming more sloppy, and you can tell from how sloppy his kisses are and the unevenness of his thrusts that he’s already close.
You click your tongue as though reprimanding a spoiled pet before breaking the kiss, hand tightening around his throat.
Valko breaks away instantly with a sharp gasp, chest heaving. His eyes snap to yours, dazed and teary, as though being stopped is its own reward. “Sorry, m’sorry. Please keep kissing me, please, I’m sorry.” Another whimper. “You said you’d help me, ya? P-please baby, let me cum.”
“And let you stain my favorite gym shorts with your cum? I don’t think so, puppy,” you scold, teasing your fingers up his rough undercut.
His breath catches so abruptly his whole body gives a tiny, involuntary jolt, shoulders loosening beneath your hand as a slow shiver rolls down his spine at the mere touch. If his ears were manifested, they would be pulled back, his body chasing the sensation before his mind could catch up, leaning instinctively into your palm like some half-domesticated thing desperate for another touch.
Every instinct urges him to reclaim your mouth, to grind back into your clothed pussy, but he forces himself still. Because that’s what you’ve taught him to do.
What a good boy.
Lifting your hips, Valko sobs at the loss of your heat. Your free hand reaches down instead, shucking down his sweat-drenched shorts and boxers in one tug, his cock bouncing out from its confines.
It springs against Valko’s abdomen with a wet slap, every bulging, veiny inch a sensitive pink, tip swollen and leaking all over his pretty red happy trail.
Valko whines, bucking into the air, “Please-ohhh-please let me in you. I’ll make you feel s’good, I’ll be so good. Ah fuck, come on.”
Something, anything to release this unbearable pressure swelling up at the base of his dick.
So you slap him again, and this time the second the crack echoes across the room so does his moan. A fresh spurt of pre-cum stains his abs, so much leaking and spilling down his stomach, you’re damn near concerned.
“Shh, don’t be too loud, someone might hear how desperate you are, baby.” You kiss his forehead and strip.
First you peel off the sports bra, then kick down your shorts and panties, smiling at Valko’s star-struck expression before dropping back down completely bare onto his muscular thighs.
“Come here, puppy.”
He obeys immediately, sitting up faster than humanly possible and ramming his lips onto yours, hands fighting to cup your breasts before he thinks better of it and curls them against his sides into trembling fists.
You hum into the kiss, guiding his hands up to your skin, “Go on, you can touch me.”
Two massive arms engulf you. Valko’s already nuzzling into your bare chest, mouthing at the lines of sweat collected from your sports bra, hot tongue dragging against every inch of skin. There’s no rhythm, no logic, just sloppy licking between your breasts before sucking at your nipples, around and up until he’s at your collarbone, every sensation so overwhelming that you feel yourself soaking his thigh.
“M’sorry, can’t stop. Taste so sweet…” Valko’s licking another long strip up your neck before finding a spot that makes you whine, nipping and teething at it while his hands come up to pinch and roll your swollen nipples. You moan at the feeling of it all, hips rolling against his quads as he purposefully tenses the ridges of muscle underneath you, letting you grind against him.
Once again, the two of you are humping each other like dogs, except this time there’s no more clothing to get in the way.
Your bare cunt envelopes his throbbing cock, every movement heightened by loud, wet sounds of the two sliding together, pseudo fucking in a way that drives both of you insane. The taste and smell of you is overwhelming, Valko dipping his head to suck at your nipple while bucking up into you, abs flexing, drenched with sweat and your combined slick as his cock drags past your clit, pressing desperately right up against your cunt before slipping to your ass and coming right back again.
His frustration is becoming obvious. Low growls muffled into your chest as grinding turns to proper thrusting, tip ramming at your entrance just too thick to push in and your thighs too slippery to find purchase.
“Shit! it’s not– not fitting. Please, let me in.” He’s begging, drooling against your chest. ”Please sweetheart, please doll.”
You want it just as badly. So you tug on his hair, pulling Valko on top of you as you lie down, and slowly turning yourself around until your chest is pressed into the training mats beneath you.
Valko’s frozen like a predator just narrowed in on a prey.
Except that prey is you. Your teasing smile lured him in, and your bare, dripping cunt presented to him like heaven mere inches from his drooling face.
Arching your back deeper, you smile as you finally give him what he’s been dying for. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, Valko, ya? Wanna knot me?”
He’s barely breathing, golden eyes glowing slightly as they lock with yours, unblinking. “Yes.”
Then, he pounces.
In a blink, his six-foot-something body slams into yours, shoving your face into the floor, one arm effortlessly forcing your ass higher to meet his hips and the other pinning your back into a deep arch to accommodate the weight of his chest now pressed against your spine.
Completely mounted, your muscles scream from the stretch and pressure his body gives, his heavy cock still leaking violently from between your spread thighs, thrusting between them, a puddle of his pre-cum splattering down between you.
You laugh into the mats, right where you want to be as you goad him into taking all that he wants and more. “Go on then, puppy. Claim me, take me, make me yours—!”
You can’t even finish your teasing before Valko bullies himself inside you with one violent thrust. Hands dig grooves into your thighs, pawing at your ass, stomach, chest, all while pulling you backward into every powerful thrust.
Valko’s head drops with another unashamed moan, tongue lolling out to lick at your nape and spine, drooling with every tight flutter your walls squeeze around him. God, you’re gushing. He’s glued to the mess where your bodies meet, your ass bouncing with each thrust, taking him so perfectly he’s losing his mind.
“Ohhh you feel so good.” Pressing deeper, his hand snakes around to press against your lower stomach, feeling the outline of his dick as you scream into the floor. Valko groans, babbling into your ear as his hips snap faster. “I know pretty thing. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
He’s repeating it against your neck between licks and nibbles, still not letting up any of his force. You feel something unmistakable swell against the curves of your ass, knocking against your cunt and thick enough to hit your clit too, each slap making you sob from pleasure-pain.
“Gonna f-fuck my little mate full of my cum, then eat you out, then fuck you again—oh fuck. Love you and this perfect pussy,” Valko’s slurring his words, talkative as ever and loud enough for the entire training facility to hear him moan.
His thrusts turn deeper, unable to part with your heat, his knot grinding furiously against your clit as you feel your body begin to tremble. “She’s takin me so well, so tight. Mhmm I’ll fill her well, give her everything she wants, fuck her full-full of my knot.”
God, he needs to shut up or you’re going to cum.
“Shh,” you hush him before breaking into a moan. “Too loud, Valko. Someone could—ahh fuck—hear you!”
Oh, but he can’t! He can’t, not when he finally feels your pussy begin to cream around him with your impending orgasm, almost wet enough to take all of him and his knot! This is what you want too don’t you see? This is what his pretty little mate needs.
Valko can’t even comprehend what he’s saying anymore, just growling and moaning into your neck as he drops his arms to properly rub at your clit and tug at your sensitive nipples, biting down into the junction of your shoulder and neck as you squirt all over his thighs with a pitched scream.
“Good pup, good mate, keep cumming for me.” Valko licks at the pin-pricks of blood blooming from his bite, going right back to babbling into your ears as his thrusts turn rougher. “Ready to take me, have my knot, my cum, oooh youfeelsogood.”
In a last attempt to muffle your boyfriend's horny sobs, you squirm beneath him to grab your gym shorts and stuff Valko’s mouth with them, gagging him with the sweat-stained spandex. And he simply takes it, open mouth drooling all over your clothes as he gets drunk off the scent of your sweat and arousal stained into them.
You both gasp at the feeling of his knot finally pressing into your entrance, the swollen, heavy weight of it forcing you several more inches open before slipping back out. Again, and again.
Instinctively, you run away, like a bunny cornered by a wolf, writhing underneath him as Valko snarls, hands engulfing your hips entirely as he drags you back onto his cock, forcing you still with so little effort it's laughable. Nothing stops him from pressing in deeper and deeper, your poor cunt finally yielding to his knot, the burn making you drool into the floor as Valko moans into your makeshift gag.
It’s forever and only seconds, your orgasm-sensitive pussy drooling enough to help him slide in fully, greedily sucking up every extra inch he gives you until you both feel the pop! of his knot finally catching inside you. It presses every damn inch inside you so perfectly you cum again, wailing and trembling as your thighs begin to go limp.
No matter, Valko just holds you up anyway. It’s not like he could pull out of you now, even if he wanted to. Not until he filled you with his cum, at least.
You’re still shaking from the prolonged orgasm, and Valko lets the rest of your body fall to the floor, following you down until his body is smushed atop yours, pressing you both into a mean prone bone.
It just makes him feel bigger. Your head is spinning with all the sudden pressure, his fat tip kissing your cervix as he rocks back and forth, his knot still grinding into that squishy spot against your walls, the heat and weight of his chest pressing into your back, and of course, his muffled moans and rambles still going strong even through your panties.
“Cum, Valko.” You’re barely thinking straight either, already right at the edge again as Valko’s thrusts turn sloppy, his body shaking. “Fill me up, b-breed me. Become mine.”
He’s cumming.
Valko whimpers into your neck as his hips snap one last time into yours, grinding as you feel the warm gush of his release spurt violently inside you, filling and filling and filling you up. So much, too much. Too much that cum squirts out from even the tight plug of his knot, dripping down both of your thighs even as Valko whines at the waste.
He doesn’t seem to fully realize he’s done, still rolling his hips into yours, each one powerful enough to drag your bodies tangled along the floor.
“Nooo, Valko,” you whine, trapped under his weight and still inflated with his knot. “Valko, stop, sensitive! Too sensitive.”
Your hands helplessly shove and push backward at the enormous man lying on top of you, not even budging him as he continues to nuzzle himself into your sweat-slicked back.
Finally, you manage to yank your clothes out from his mouth, releasing him from the gag as he simply sighs in pleasure, licking and nipping at your ear before dragging his tongue in a long, messy line down your neck.
“You’re so heavy. Get. Off!” Each word is a shove, but Valko only laughs at the effort. He does take mercy on your poor abused body though, and grabbing your waist with one hand, rolls the two of you over. You now rest on his plush chest instead, both of you heaving as you lie still pumped full of his knot and cum.
“M’sorry, guest instinct just took over there, y’know? You’re not hurt, are you?”
contains: dry humping & some domesticity. that's it that's all ^.^
wc: 1.9K (idk how i did that)
i did proofread, but yk... ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜
so easy to fall in love ♡
“saturday? yeah, i got it. well, tell auntie that we’ll try our best to be there, but i can’t make any promises.”
your eyebrows furrow and your lips morph into a curious pout as you zone in on the tail end of your boyfriend’s phone call. the movie you had been streaming immediately became unimportant with the brief mention of his family claiming your full attention instead.
likely referring to another impromptu get-together that they’re clearly asking for you both to attend, you were itching to learn the details of it over the plot of a film you admittedly had little interest in before you even pressed play. the fact that the volume hadn’t made it past ten should’ve been enough to emphasize its insignificance.
“doesn’t matter to me, but i’ll ask her and see what she thinks.” valko exhales with a hum of approval in acknowledgment to whatever else his cousin was relaying, leaning back and tilting his head so that his temple can rest comfortably against your knee. with the warmth of him against you and the soft caress of his fingers along and around your ankle, little moments like these made you cherish having a man so mindlessly affectionate.
to call your boyfriend clingy was an understatement, but it was something about him that you’d never trade for anything in the world. the moment you welcomed him into your life with open arms and kissed him sweetly when he confidently asked you with the silliest smile to be his girl forever, you knew what kind of relationship it was bound to be.
to this day, it didn’t matter if he had important phone calls, intricate things to study up on, or confidential documents to overlook and analyze. one thing for certain was that he would always do any and all of it wherever you were if he could.
ten minutes go by before he’s finally sitting up and removing the earbuds from his ears and the whole headset from around his neck. whatever work he had been click-clacking away at for the last two hours after taking a shower and having dinner was disregarded when he shuts the screen of his laptop and turned to look up at you holding the cute wolf plushie he’d won for you a couple months back.
“everything okay?” you ask him softly as he faces you completely, reaching out to gently rake your fingernails through the soft and now fully dried hair right behind his ear.
getting to watch that handsome face of his fall completely relaxed and content was truly a sacred experience. his immediate submission is something you frequently tease him for when compared to his cocky demeanor, but you both knew you’d never hear the end of it should you stop for any reason.
“yeah, it’s all good. random brunch for the third time this month over the weekend. you up for it? by all means, say no if you prefer to just chill with the love of your life or whatever.”
“you and your family are just too cute. once again, i’m reminded where you get all that audacity from.”
valko grins at the giggle you can’t contain, continuing to explore the softness of your skin as you both doted on the other silently. settling between your legs while he sits on the floor was on the top of his list of his preferred kind of intimacy. “but you know i’m down if you are. i go where you go. i mean duhhh, that’s how we always move. like a pack, right?”
he leans deeper into your touch, eyes nearly falling shut completely from the euphoria he gets out of the way you love on him with one of the things he classifies as a guilty pleasure. truthfully, he wasn’t secretive about such an obsession at all, but what was known didn’t always need to be said out loud. unless used against him, of course.
“didn’t even give you any info on it yet and you’re already so eager to follow me like a good little pup, huh?”
“oh, i’m the eager one?” the protest ready to fall from his lips is first expressed in the pinch of his brows when your hand slips away from the stimulation being given to one of his favorite spots. his expressions had the tendency to give away any thoughts before he could say a word. it’s why he always says you read him better than any book he’s ever laid his eyes on.
“what the fuc—”
“watch it,” you warn playfully. whatever was to be said is swallowed down when the pads of your fingertips begin tracing the defined outline of his jawline before resting on the underside of his chin. “so quick to start with me. aren’t you supposed to be my good boy?”
valko takes your lighthearted taunting as a challenge, grasping you by the wrist and bringing it up to his nose to inhale your addictive scent and the faint aroma of your perfume.
“aren’t i always?”
“you have your moments. i’ve gotta say though, obedience looks super sexy on you.”
“hm. i bet it does.” his grin brings out the subtle dimples in his cheeks. “is it my turn to make a move now?”
he’s pulling you off the couch and on top of him before you’re capable of offering a response to his vague request. the two of you are caught in a laughing fit all the way down until his back hits the plush rug and you’re settled in his lap.
the chuckles are interrupted when you feel his not-so-little friend prodding at you for some kind of attention.
“oh, you perv.”
“perv? that’s not a nice thing to say to the man of your dreams, now is it?” he’s slipping his hands beneath your shorts as his palms slide up the outside of your thighs. “i just consider this instinctual. others would say natural. can’t blame me for what i can’t control.”
the heaviness of his hardening cock pressing into you from below had a steadily increasing heartbeat thumping in your panties. from the soft look he sports with his glasses, the oversized red sweater you got him last christmas, and the dark gray sweats doing nothing to conceal what you were quickly becoming unashamedly desperate for, no way were you getting off of him without some kind of relief.
valko watches you closely as you raise said sweater to sit below his chin, revealing the big, strong, and sculpted body that you’ve fallen helplessly head over heels for. he was hard where you were soft, and it was opposites like that that made you fit so well.
“would you look at that. and i’m the one being labeled a pervert. baby, i think we’re mixing things up.”
“can’t i admire my boyfriend? isn’t this natural?”
it’s almost like his eyes shine when you use his own words against him.
“‘course you can. in fact, you better. but…” he sniffs up at the air four times, a smug grin taking over his lips. “i’m sensing that admiration isn’t the only thing you’ve got planned in that big head of head of yours.”
“fuck off,” you laugh, pinching his nose. “and don’t act so tough.”
with one slow upward motion of your hips, the thickness pulsing against you seems to swell even bigger than before. his teeth tuck his bottom lip into his mouth from the sensation and his hold on your hips deepens, nails biting deliciously at your flesh. “admiration isn’t enough for you anyways.”
your lips fall to his quickly, tongues battling for a dominance you know he’d fight tooth and nail to be the one to conquer. but he throughly enjoys a biting prey and it’s why he loves you.
his hands are sliding out the fabric of your sleepwear to find purchase on other parts of your body the more heated your sensual exchange becomes. as he licks at the roof of your mouth and tries his hardest to devour you whole, you’re embraced by his large hands grabbing at you like the greedy beast he’s proud to be.
it’s when he makes his way back to your hips that you both know this wouldn’t last long. and when he starts to frantically guide you to grind against him faster, holding you down to feel him through the few layers of clothes that’s causing separation, instinctively you knew that it was in your best interest to prepare yourself for the more he was going to give soon after this.
“you’re not… hah—wearing underwear…” you breathe against his mouth glistening with your shared saliva. you’re quick to take off his glasses from the growing frustration of them getting in your way of being closer, discarding them towards the plush cushions with fingers crossed for a safe landing.
“aren’t you smart.” the teasing inflection in his tone and the deepness of his voice has your cunt throbbing to the point of growing uncomfortable.
your clit continues to ache the more you move with him, nipples grazing underneath your top and begging to be sucked into his mouth.
“sit up,” he says breathlessly with another sloppy kiss to your partially swollen lips.
he keeps you moving on his cock as you rise, lustful gaze focused on the way your shorts ride up your thighs and cling to your pussy from how taut he’s got them pulled to increase the friction. the outline of his dick moving against it back and forth, trying its best to nestle in between—the visual alone has him bucking up and trying to make that a reality.
valko’s hands slide up the sides of your torso and his thumbs delicately play with your peaked nipples beneath your t-shirt.
“val,” you whine, resting your hand on his chest to keep you steady as you try your hardest to not lose your shit from the sensitivity taking over everywhere. “w-want it inside. want it so bad…”
“you open that pretty mouth for everything else.” he flicks them this time to make you tense and for tears to damn near overfill both your waterlines. “should’ve just said how much you wanted to be fucked way sooner, pup. saves us so much time.”
but you can’t wait for that now, not when you’re so close. the lone idea of stopping was aggravating enough.
your head falls back from the insatiable manner in which you chase your high, using his body to the highest degree to help get you there.
“you smell so sweet,” he coos through a husky moan. “mm. you’ll let me taste it later? it’s not good to be stingy.”
“right t-there,” you mewl, pressing your lips together before your vision practically blurs and and has you seeing dots. your orgasm is cataclysmic, and valko keeps your momentum going despite the clear overstimulation you’re experiencing. hearing you sing for him like this and watching you fall apart was worth your little hits of retaliation later.
he’s not far behind you either, thick spurts of sticky cum making a complete mess in his pants soon after you cave and quickly seeps through the material to add to the wet spot in between your legs.
both of you sit breathless with the sound of your forgotten movie still playing and being the only thing to fill the silence.
“you can taste it if i can taste you, too.”
“a deal?” he raises an eyebrow as if he’s open to negations. “other than the obvious, what’s really in it for me?”
of course he never misses an opportunity to play coy.
“keep making me feel good…” your thumb swipes along his bottom lip. “and maybe you’ll find out. or are you too scared?”
you sure were bold to offer up another challenge like this. and he could show you better than he could promise that this time, he wouldn’t go easy.
a/n: ofc i haaaddd to write about that picture. i’m so obsessed with it. like i was genuinely imagining this…. i almost felt it—AND, i know we can’t really tell if he’s ooc or not but if you think he’s ooc… DON’T TELL ME!!!!!!! valko baby, you’re ALIVE over here. they can’t take you from me. i hope you enjoyed, my cuties. MWAH MWAH!!!
18+ mdni | nsfw creator xav pt 2!!! ty guys for ur feedback hehe ily
CW. X link (vid of a shirtless guy), m+f masturbation, mentions of breeding/making you a housewife, sexting, nudes, mutual masturbation, oral (f), fingering, squirting, missionary, rough sex, restraints? (he holds you by the wrists w one hand), whimpering, creampie, cum eating, overstimulation
pt 1!!!
ever since finding out your neighbour was secretly xoxolumiere, life had become a living nightmare. not because he was weird or creepy—quite the opposite, actually.
the problem was that now you couldn’t look at him without remembering exactly what his voice sounded like moaning into a microphone. and once you’d become painfully aware of your neighbour’s existence, he started showing up absolutely everywhere.
your last mailbox rendezvous was a rare occurrence, but now he was there every time you went to check the mail, greeting you with that stupidly cute eye smile and a faint blush that seemed to ask are we okay?
it wasn’t just the apartment complex, either—you started seeing him in other places too. you’d be at the grocery store, pushing your cart toward the snack aisle only to find him standing in front of the crackers, brows furrowed in deep concentration like he was making a life altering decision.
even that would’ve been bearable if not for his complete and utter lack of shame about the whole situation. maybe he still didn’t know you spent far too many nights with his voice in your headphones, or that you had post notifs turned on for his account—but surely he knew something.
what other reason could there possibly be for you to shove his mail against his chest and sprint for the elevator like your life depended on it?
after another week of expertly timing your trips downstairs to avoid him, you decided enough was enough. you were an adult, and this whole thing was ridiculous.
you were developing the world’s most embarrassing parasocial crush on a man who also happened to live two floors above you. the obvious solution was to stop feeding into it.
no more listening to his audios before bed, no more checking twitter every few hours, and definitely no more wondering if the footsteps in the hallway belonged to him.
this was healthy, this was normal—this was what emotionally stable people did…but god, you were gonna miss his voice.
with the determination of someone getting rid of evidence before the police arrived, you opened twitter, thumb hovering over the follow button.
“it’s for the best,” you muttered just before tapping it, staring at the screen for a moment before nodding to yourself. #growth. you really were gods strongest soldier.
in an attempt to commemorate your act of strength, you rewarded yourself with overpriced takeout. the universe on the other hand, rewarded you by making xavier step into the elevator just as the doors were closing.
“hi, starlight.”
a beat of silence passed as your ears began to burn.
“heyyyy…” you said a beat too long, somehow making the air ten times more awkward.
he glanced at the takeout bag in your hands before looking back at you.
“i love that place” he spoke, breaking the silence again. you huffed a polite laugh before shuffling your feet, wondering why this trip was taking so fucking long. “so um, i’ve been wanting to say thanks for bringing my mail by.”
your stomach dropped.
“oh, y-you don’t have to.”
“i do”. his voice was quieter than usual, almost hesitant. “i’m sorry if i did anything to make you feel uncomfortable.”
you blinked. “…what?”
“the other day…jus’ feel like i’ve been seeing you even less…not that i stalk you or anything. imagine, haha.”
he rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head as if to rewind the moment. there was something oddly vulnerable about him standing there, cheeks faintly pink, avoiding your eyes. guilt washed over you as you watched the shy man avert his gaze. against better judgment, you sighed.
“it’s not your fault, what you do online is your business. i guess i was just kinda caught off guard.”
he looked up, brows knit together.
“you know what i do online?”
oh. he didn’t say anything about that, did he?
“i mean—”
“how would you know what i do online, starlight?”
the elevator suddenly felt about three sizes too small as his stare intensified. “um…google?”
“…you follow me.”
“i don’t even use twitter” the words fell from your lips before you could stop them. you squeezed your eyes shut. “please forget i said that.”
the silence stretched just long enough for you to consider jumping down the elevator shaft. then, he laughed. not loudly—just a soft, surprised laugh, like he genuinely couldn’t help it. when you finally looked at him, he was smiling fondly.
“that explains a lot.”
you quirked an eyebrow, wondering if he somehow also knew your accounts name.
“the mail? and running away? you looked terrified.”
you blushed, rolling your eyes at his amused tone. “because i was!”
he bit the inside of his cheek, clearly trying and failing not to smile wider.
“i’m sorry.”
“you’re literally laughing while saying that.”
“yeah…i am.” he chuckled again, the air much lighter than it was previously.
“you’re enjoying this.”
“maybe a little.”
you groaned so dramatically the elderly woman waiting for the elevator gave you a concerned look once the doors opened. you brushed past xavier without another word, smiling in his direction once more before the elevator shut.
“goodnight, starlight.”
you didn’t answer, mostly because if you did he’d hear the embarrassing little squeak that threatened to come out.
—
three days.
you made it three whole days without checking his account. honestly, that had to be some sort of record.
unfortunately, on the fourth day curiosity won. you told yourself it was just to see if he’d posted anything and that you absolutely were not relapsing.
the first thing you saw was a video of xavier unzipping his hoodie just enough to reveal the shirtless torso underneath before letting it fall open completely.
you replayed the clip several times, noticing sweat droplets running down the sharp lines of his toned abdomen. your thighs squeezed together as you imagined running your nails down his muscles, watching how they’d flex and tense as he writhed beneath you. so caught up in your thoughts, you failed to stop the video from autoplaying to his next post, a new audio with the caption reading:
hot neighbour finally makes a move (praise, teasing, breeding)
your heart stopped. there was absolutely no way that was about you, right?
desperately searching for your earphones, you hastily shoved them into your ears and lied back to immerse yourself in the audio.
“starlight..” he whined in that needy voice you grew to love so much, “god, i’ve wanted this so bad, y’know that?”
you cheeks reddened as slick sounds joined the audio. “s-so fuckin’ tight…been thinking about this since you moved in. would see your pretty smiles and immediately get hard”
your breathing picked up as your eyes fluttered shut, the image of a breathless xavier hovering over you painted clearly in your mind.
he stuttered as the wet sounds of his hand working his slick cock moved faster. “bet ya think of me too, huh pretty? wanna know what i think about when i make these? ‘s always you…ngh, think about taking you in the elevator, pressing the emergency button and fucking you right there.”
you scrolled through the comments to avoid reaching down your pants and easing the ache that had formed, already dripping from just his words.
“baby i’m so close…please i can’t—fuck, starlight… can i please fill you up? let me put a baby in you, yeah? gonna make you such a pretty m-mommy angel, only thing ya gotta worry about is taking my loads and being a pretty lil housewife.”
his voice pitched up as he spoke, gasping for air as his words were replaced with loud grunts and moans.
the comments were filled with questions of if he was in heat or actively getting fucked—things you couldn’t help but find yourself agreeing to, wondering if his passion for this audio was caused by your accidental confession.
convinced by the too obvious title, you decided to message him from your nsfw alt.
luvxinghui: damn your neighbours lucky asf
luvxinghui: specifically the ones living in apt 670
luvxinghui: that bumped into you the other day and pretended they haven’t listened to your audios for the last 6 months
each second passed by with more regret filling you, wondering if this was sexual harassment. it wasn’t too late to just delete the account right? and you’ve been wanting to move anyway so this was a good enough—
xoxolumiere: Starlight?
xoxolumiere: Done being shy? Was worried U blocked me after that post :(
your heart raced reading the messages, quickly typing out a response before he changed his mind and thought you actually were a creep.
luvxinghui: nope unfortunately it only made me want u even more🙄
xoxolumiere: Oh yeah?
you typed and deleted several responses, thinking of how to keep the sexual tension until your phone buzzed with another message from him—a video.
heavy breathing immediately sounded from your phone as he quickly pumped his clothed cock twice, lifting his veiny hand to show his covered length twitching. a breathy curse left his lips before he chuckled, the video ending too soon for your liking. drool pooled in your mouth as you stared at the thumbnail for several minutes.
xoxolumiere: Like it? Fuck i’m already so hard
you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming but decided against it. if you were asleep, you didn’t want this ending anytime soon.
luvxinghui: holy shit xav
xoxolumiere: U had me nervous. Thought I went 2 far.
luvxinghui: omg not at all the opposite actually like i need u inside me rn
xoxolumiere: Yeah? Ur si fuckin hot my star trll me morw?
you bit your lip, wondering if he was making the same pretty noises that had you weak or if these ones were different—special and reserved for you.
luvxinghui: why don’t u just come over so i can show you instead?
two checkmarks indicating your message was read appeared on the screen, leaving you alone as his typing bubbles disappeared. you refreshed the app several times, thinking maybe you missed a response until a sharp knock on your door shook your attention.
you threw your phone down before making your way to the door, preparing to send away whoever it was until you made eye contact with a flustered, very red xavier.
“h-hey, starlight. not sure if you really meant it but-”
you cut him off by pulling him towards you, pressing your lips on his and shutting the door behind him. your hands ran up his body before wrapping around his neck, lightly tugging at the hairs on the base of his neck while your tongue traced the seam of his lips.
his unresponsiveness had you slightly pulling away to check in until he pressed you closer, letting you feel his bulge against your abdomen. his tongue wrapped around yours before exploring the rest of your mouth, groaning into the kiss when you completely submit to him.
his length pressed against you with every little shift, a growl leaving his throat as he finally picked you up and wrapped your legs around him, carrying you to the living room couch.
“can’t believe this is fucking real” he whispered, breath fanning against your lips as he spoke. you tried pressing forward for another kiss but were stopped by him throwing you onto the soft sofa, immediately laying between your legs and resuming his previous attack on your mouth.
you arched into his touch when he trailed his lips down your neck and nipped at your collarbone, gasping as he took both your wrists in one hand and pinned them above you.
“feel that?” he questioned, pressing the outline of his cock against your clothed cunt and watching you nod furiously in his hold. “it’s all for you, my star. i’m gonna fucking ruin you.”
you swallowed anxiously and whined his name, barely getting it out before he harshly kissed you again. you felt one hand keep yours together as the other trailed down your body, teasing the waistband of your pants and laughing at the way you trembled.
“x-xav…can you um…”
he cocked his head to the side before humming inquisitively, waiting for you to continue. “can i…? what do you want? want me to finger you? lick that pretty cunt? or do you want me to choose?”
your cheeks flushed a deeper red at his lewd words, shrugging the best you could as a response to the borderline insane question. he watched you for a few more moments before letting you go, clicking his tongue and kneeling back while palming his bulge. your hands ran up his front in effort to bring him back towards you to no avail, his towering figure shaking you off with a single push backwards.
“y’know…you’ve heard me touch myself a lot. i remember seeing your account when i like first started the account.” a smug grin formed on his face when you quickly looked away in shame. “now you want me to take the lead here too? that’s not fair, is it?”
you looked up with a pout, focused on the way he bit his lip while staring down at you. “you ever touch yourself while listening?”
he watched as you nodded, hands starting to fidget with the hem of your shirt. finally, he sat back and pushed his hand below his pants, stroking himself below his sweats as he stared at you. “wanna see you do it again, in front of me this time.”
you gasped at the request, about to refuse until he laughed in such a mean way. “be a good girl and do it while i’m asking, yeah? i could make you do it if i wanted—d’you really think you’d be able to push me off?”
your heart raced at the implication, hands shaking as they undid the tie keeping your pants up. he helped you slide them all the way down before watching you spread your legs, a dark spot already forming at the centre of your underwear.
a deep groan of his spurred you on, your nervous fingers finally moving to your cunt and applying just the right amount of pressure to your clit to have you throwing your head back in bliss. the sound of him spitting into his hand drew your attention once more, immediately snapping back to him as he started to beat his cock faster in the confines of his sweats.
“sh-shove your panties to the side. let me see how wet you get for me.”
you immediately obeyed, pulling the damp cloth away to reveal your glistening heat. he swallowed at the sight, a whine leaving his throat as he watched you run a digit up your warmth and pull away, a string of slick connecting your finger to your pussy.
xavier’s breathing picked up as his hand started a familiar rhythm of stroking his length before circling the tip with his palm. sweat beaded on his temple and ran down the length of his neck as his hips began to buck up to meet his thrusts. “xav…” you whined, circling your clit quicker as you watched his ministrations. his eyebrows furrowed in desperation at the pitchy tone you used to say his name, finally throwing him over the edge as he let out whimpers of your name.
you watched a damp spot form on his pants, his hand slowing down but never stopping as he continued to work himself to the point of overstimulation.
his chest heaved as he tried to calm himself, still pumping his length to semi hardness before finally looking at you once more. “fuck i’m so sorry, jus’ got so excited baby but we can still—“
you giggled at the post nut clarity, watching as he pulled his cum covered hand from his sweats and moved back towards you. “oh it’s funny huh? you think it’s funny how easy i am for you?”
you nodded before bringing his hand to your lips, licking the remainder of his seed from his fingers before responding. “mmm yup. pretty funny in my books”
he watched with bated breath before pushing you back down, kissing your lips and groaning at the taste of himself before pecking lower, moving between your thighs and looking up at you. “let’s see how funny it is when you’re cumming on my tongue in a couple minutes”
not giving you a chance to response, he licked from your entrance to your clit, wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves and applying a light pressure as he started to suck on it. your hands immediately buried in his platinum hair, tugging with every flick of his tongue against your sensitive nub.
he moaned against you while trying to makeout with your cunt, letting his tongue dip into your hole before running over the rest of your pussy once more. “xav, fuck…please” you whined, bucking your hips against his mouth and simultaneously pushing his head deeper into you.
“taste so fucking good…cum on my face baby please, i need to feel it” he mumbled into your heat, muffled by your desperate movements against his mouth. your cries increased in volume as he focused on the spot that had you crying, one hand moving to insert two fingers into your entrance. the sudden intrusion pushed you to the edge, climaxing on his face and squirting as he continued to scissor his fingers deep inside of you.
you shook below him as he continued to finger fuck you, completely entranced by the way you sprayed your fluid on him. once he was sure you couldn’t take anymore and were crying for him, he finally relented, moving to his previous position hovering over you.
“was that good?”
you tried to catch your breathing while glaring at him, staring incredulously at the ridiculous question. he laughed before leaning down and kissing you passionately, stealing any breath you managed to regain. “can i? please, starlight…”
you watched him pull his hard cock from his pants, pumping it and watching him spread the precum beading at the tip along the rest of his length. you nodded and watched as he reached into his pocket for protection, shaking while trying to rip the packet open only for you to knock it out of his hands. “want it raw” you whined, relishing in the groan he let out before pushing his pants lower and kicking them off.
he rubbed his cock against your folds before finally pushing into you, girthy tip already enough to have you wincing in pain. “want me to stop?”
you quickly shook your head and heard him chuckle at the enthusiasm, pressing into you once more and falling to his elbows as he bottomed out.
the both of you moaned at the feeling, every vein of his long cock being massaged by your sensitive walls with each second that passed by.
“a-angel…cmon need you to relax for me”
his whines spurred you on, causing you to tighten around him even more. he pressed a kiss against your lips in efforts of distracting himself but only moved to a position that had him even deeper inside of you.
“fuck, baby i’m sorry, jus’ kick me if it’s too much” he spoke, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before withdrawing himself from you almost completely and shoving all the way back in, the tears springing from your eyes encouraging him to set a rapid pace.
“xav its so big” you cried, nails scratching down his back as he completely engulfed all your senses.
he pressed down on your lower abdomen, watching you gasp in surprise as he knelt back to fuck himself even deeper into you. “you’re taking it so fucking good, starlight. so warm for me”
each squeeze of your walls has him edging closer to release, trying desperately to stave it off by fisting his hand into the leather of your couch. the sound of his hips slapping against the backs of your thighs filled the room, each movement filling you with pleasure. your eyes trailed his body as he continued to fuck you, the flush from his face going all the way down his chest. beads of sweat ran between the muscles you were staring at on a screen just hours ago, every inhale he took accentuating the lines of his toned figure.
he set one leg on the ground to stabilize himself as he fucked you harder, hitting the spot that had you rapidly approaching your high. one hand grasped your tit harshly, slapping it before tweaking a nipple with all his strength. the rough movements finally pushed you over the edge, your sudden orgasm making him grip you tight enough to bruise.
he fucked you through your high, watching your body convulse below him with pleasure as he pushed your legs up and used the new position to thrust even harsher into you.
“tight little cunts gonna take it all right? lgonna fill you up and get you nice and round with my babies-shit-you like that huh? pretty girl wants to make me a daddy right? gonna get these tits nice and full with m-milk ohimcummingfucktakeitsogoodforme—“
his thrusts turned erratic before sloppily moving against your hips as he filled you up, spurt after spurt shooting into your womb while he muttered how good you’d look full of him. he laid above you for several minutes, trying to control his breathing before finally coming back up, pressing a gentle kiss to your mouth and moving down to watch you push his cum out of your entrance.
without another word he began to lick your heat, swallowing every drop of your shared cum with greedy moans. you rubbed your pussy against his face as he sucked every drop of his seed from you, only stopping when he was sure you were completely empty.
The first time you joked about wanting to ride his biceps, Valko laughed like he thought you were just being cute.
He wasn’t laughing anymore.
Now he’s lying back on the bed, one massive arm flexed hard for you, that thick, veiny bicep bulging like it was made for this. His other hand rests possessively on your hip, steadying you as you straddle his arm, grinding your slick pussy right against the hard curve of muscle.
“Fuck… look at you,” he breathes, voice rough. His ears are twitching like crazy, tail thumping hard against the mattress behind him. “Using my arm like a toy… you really are something else, sweetheart.”
You’re soaked. Every roll of your hips makes your clit drag against the firm swell of his bicep, the friction so intense it has you whimpering. Valko’s watching you with hungry eyes, flexing the muscle underneath you on purpose so it presses harder against your core.
He’s huge. The sheer size of his arm between your thighs makes you feel small and filthy in the best way. You brace one hand on his shoulder, the other gripping his wrist for balance, and start riding his bicep faster, grinding down with needy little moans.
Valko groans like he’s the one getting fucked. His free hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb brushing your nipple while his tail goes absolutely wild, smacking loudly against the bed.
“Shit- keep going,” he groans, voice breaking. “Use me. Ride it just like that… fuck, you’re dripping all over me.”
Every flex of his arm makes you shudder. The muscle is rock hard and slick with your arousal now, and the sight of it; your pussy sliding messily over his massive biceps while he stares up at you like you’re the hottest thing he’s ever seen is driving you both insane.
He’s panting, ears flat, cheeks flushed, looking way too proud of the fact that you’re getting yourself off on his arm like it’s your favorite toy.
Valko has brought me inspiration like never before when it comes to writing ! i had so many drafts and ideas to share with you all...i am deeply disappointed with infolds decision and will maintain posting about him :) #bringbackvalko !!
sorry i cant stop thinking about leaving your two doggos Puppy!Caleb and Wolfie!Valko home alone for a week while you're on an important mission, thinking the worst that'll happen is them fighting a bit, maybe scratching some furniture...what you weren't prepared for was coming home to an eerily silent apartment, taking your shoes off and calling out to your cute pets and getting no answers; you decide to head to your bedroom and that's when you hear it : bed creaking, loud groaning and licking coming from the inside. You open your bedroom door to the sight your two pups, Caleb red from the neck up, in his ruined boxers , legs up and knees touching his ears in a mean mating press. His tank top is scrunched up over his sore pecs, nipples a bright red color, bite marks littered all over ... and was that your lacy bra he was wearing ? ... looking up you see Valko holding his ankles in place, ears up and trembling slightly, he had discarded his shirt and was currently busy rutting his leaky tip against Caleb's noticeable boxer bulge , chasing the friction like a drug, his mouth hanging open, some saliva dripping down his maw onto Caleb's happy trail...it seems like your needy boys got along perfectly fine after all.
18+ sharing your warmth with caleb.
size difference. pet names. breeding. use of gravity evol.
“You can’t feel me at all?” you ask again, your fingers stroking up his forearm. It’s still hard to believe his arm is not entirely his anymore – that they’d modified it. It still felt like him – like he always had: warm and strong and yours.
He watches the meandering path you make up his arm, fingers ghosting over his skin. “Not like this,” he answers in a whisper.
It wasn’t right. They’d taken part of him from you. It makes you angry.
He hisses as you pinch the skin at his elbow.
Then, he smiles. “So cruel.”
His smile drops off his lips as you intertwine your fingers with his. “I hate them,” you mutter, bringing his hand towards your lips. You hold him there, a breath away, knowing he can’t feel the warmth of your breath against his skin.
He’d held your own hands like this just the day before, warming them with his hot breath and shoving them into his pockets before they could turn to ice again.
He’s reminded of the same thing; he’s having the same thought. You see it in his eyes as he pulls your intertwined hands towards his own lips now. “I won’t always be able to tell if your hands are cold,” he says. “Not unless you always walk on my left… unless you hold my left hand.” He pauses, eyes moving from your joined hands to look back at you. “Will you do that for me, Pips?” He asks. “So I know when you’re cold?”
“I can just tell you.”
He smiles again, squeezing your hand a little. “Can I trust you to tell me?”
You frown slightly.
He laughs.
“On my left, then,” he says, decision made.
It’s a familiar end. His decisions were hard to shift once he’d made them. He was hard to steer. Still, you would always try.
You readjust your position on his lap, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs.
“Would you tell me if you were cold?” you ask.
He tilts his head, his hair falling across his forehead.
You know the answer before you’d asked. But it wasn’t about getting an answer. You were attempting to make a point: the same point you’d been trying to make for months now – since he’d come back.
You tug your hand from his and place your hands on his chest, pressing him back into the pillows propped up against the headboard. Answer me, you threaten silently.
“Why would I?” he asks as his right hand settles on your hip, like you might need help just to stay perched in his lap – like you could fall and he needed to be ready to catch you.
“So I can help you, like you would help me,” you answer.
His lips part, then close. He looks to the side, out into the snowy night, then back at you. “I’m never cold.”
In the past, you might’ve huffed and crawled off him – left him there to stew in his own stubborn refusal to admit to a completely human weakness. Instead, you cup his cheek with your palm, gentle, “Don’t tell childish lies. We’re adults now, you know.”
He smiles softly – a slight curve of his lips that seems to soften his eyes, too.
“I can warm you when you’re cold,” you whisper, quiet, unwilling to risk scaring the softness away.
He blinks. His eyes drop to the hand at your hip. He’s quiet.
You wait.
Then, “What if I can’t feel your warmth?” he asks, so quiet you almost can’t make out the words.
You take a shallow breath, and then you lean forward into him, pressing your chest up against his. Your face rests comfortably against his shoulder — warm breath ghosting over his neck. “You can feel me everywhere else,” you remind him. Everywhere but his right arm.
His fingers press into your hip, and then his hand drops away.
Retreating.
You turn your head a little and press your lips to his skin, just in the crook of his neck.
He freezes.
Retreat paused.
“Right?” you prod, lips brushing against his warm skin as you speak. “You can feel it here?”
He takes in a shaky breath, and you’re sure he’s about to lift you off him, say something to lighten to mood, distract you like he always does: retreat again.
You part your lips and exhale against his skin, “It’s warm, yeah?” you ask, determined.
You swear, just for a second, that you feel the brush of his hand at your back, but it’s gone before you can be sure of it. He’s still, apart from that, until, finally, “Yeah,” he breathes.
Victory.
You know it, just in that little word. He wasn’t backing away; retreating.
He was giving in.
You take in a few shallow breaths, shaken by the prospect of him finally surrendering. Then, gently, you press your lips to his neck in a kiss. “You’ll tell me then?” you ask. “You’ll tell me when you're cold?”
His hand presses to your lower back, you’re sure this time. It’s heavy and unwavering. “So you can warm me?” he asks in return, his voice far less steady than his hand at your back.
“Mm,” you hum, moving your head side to side a little so your lips graze his skin in the spot you kissed him.
“All right,” he breathes.
“Promise?”
He’s silent, unmoving.
You hook your finger into the collar of his t-shirt and pull it down slightly, enough that you can press your lips to his collarbone. “Promise,” you prod, never moving far enough away that your lips aren’t touching him. Always touching. “Promise me you’ll tell me when you’re cold.”
His head moves a little, chin dipping. Then, like an afterthought, he speaks, “Yes. Yeah. I’ll tell you. Promise.”
Then his hand presses into you harder, like he’s trying to close the little gap between your bodies.
You resist for a moment, then give in, letting him press you up against him.
You’re forced to lift your head from his neck as you readjust; forced to meet his eyes.
His pupils nearly engulf his purple irises entirely, darkness swarming and mixing with the softness that still hasn’t left. That’s how he was these days, you ponder as he looks back at you: soft and comfort and all those things that made him so familiar, but also, dark – cold, unpredictable, different – someone capable of igniting fear in a crowd of uniformed men.
“It makes me feel greedy,” he says, pulling you from the swirling in his eyes.
You blink, “Greedy?”
“Just thinking about it,” he clarifies. “You’re so warm that I…” His eyes dip to your lips as he speaks, short little glances that wouldn’t be so noticeable if they weren’t so frequent – if he didn’t linger there the more he looked, like the act of looking away was wearing him down. “I might… take it all. I might never stop. I might want it all and never ever stop.”
You squirm a little, just slightly, an involuntary almost roll of your hips. “That’s okay. You’ve been cold for a long time, yeah? You need lots and lots of … of warming up.”
He nods, but it looks a little uncontrolled, like he wasn’t thinking much about answering you at all. It’s a lazy kind of nod; distracted.
Lazy. Kind of like the way you begin to roll your hips.
He doesn’t look away as you roll against him, transfixed there as your breathing slowly shifts into deeper, unsteady, puffs of air between parted lips.
You can feel his hesitation, like breaking himself from his frozen trance might make it all stop – as if he were in a dream.
“Am I warm here?” you ask on a shaky exhale, rolling your hips with a little force this time – pressing your heated centre into him.
Then you’re still, captured by the invisible force you’ve always known as his evol. It holds you there as his hand snakes up your back, a firm warmth that shifts the fabric of your shirt a little with it as it goes. It only stops when he reaches the back of your head. There he holds you, fingers tangled in your hair. You blink. His gravity releases you, and he falls forward – his forehead pressing against your own.
His breath mixes with your own as he holds you there, waiting on his response.
“That’s where you’re warmest,” he says, finally. “There,” he closes the gaps between your lips a little more. It almost tickles, the ghost of him – so close. “And here.”
Then he’s on you, delving into your mouth in a way that leaves no room for escape. His hand holds you to him as he takes and takes and takes, tongue’s dancing and spit making a mess down to your chin.
Your hips move on their own.
You grind into him as you consume each other, assisted a little when his other hand presses into your lower back.
Warm.
It’s all you’re thinking.
You’re so warm. He’s so warm. His warm hands holding you close; his warm chest pressed to yours; his warm thighs underneath you; his hot tongue, slick against yours.
An embarrassing sound slips from your throat. You pull away, gasping in much-needed air as his eyes flick across your face.
His fingers twitch against your back.
You shiver.
His hand, at the back of your head, drifts down to cradle your cheek.
It’s his left hand.
His thumb brushes against your skin in gentle strokes.
“I’m cold,” he says.
You shiver again. It’s not from the temperature. The truth is, it’s not cold at all. His apartment might even be a little warmer than most people would find comfortable. He kept it that way for you, especially on winter nights like this: the ones you felt a little harsher than he ever did.
“You are?” you question, bringing your hand up to his cheek, mirroring him.
Warm. His cheek is soft and radiating heat to match the red flush of his skin.
He nods, looking suddenly a little like a wounded puppy. You could almost swear his lower lip, wet from your kisses, was protruding a little… almost like a pout.
You press against him, chest to chest, as if there was any space left to close between you. “Even after…” you pause. “But I thought that was my warmest part?” you question, reaching up to touch your lips with your fingers.
His eyes drop and linger there, watching where you touch your mouth. Then, “Yeah, it is. You’re so warm there. So, so warm,” he says, distracted.
You wrap your arms around his neck. His arms fall to your waist, wrapping around you tight.
“But you’re still cold?” you ask.
His eyes flutter closed. One shaky breath. Two. They open again. “Greedy,” he breathes. “I told you, yeah?”
Your cunt pulses between your legs, hot and sensitive. “Maybe…” you drift off, distracted by the increasingly desperate urge to shift a little to the side and press down directly onto his firm thigh. “Maybe you need to use both.” Your voice is breathy. It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so distracted.
“Both?”
Your lashes flutter as you fight closing your eyes and giving into temptation. “Both my warmest places,” you whisper.
His fingers press into your waist, and then, he’s pulling you down, firm, into his lap. “I need to use both?” he asks, breathy.
You nod. “I’m warm there, I promise.”
He looks between your eyes and his head drops back a little, eyes closing, before he catches himself. He rocks forward again, keeping you close. “Yeah?” he breathes.
“So warm,” you say with another nod, your voice taking on a desperate, pleading, sort of tone. “Hot. It’s hot. I’ll warm you up, Caleb. I promise. I’ll keep you warm.”
His lips nearly brush yours when he speaks, “Yeah, baby? I might need to stay inside, though. You might have to keep me in there so I can stay nice and warm, yeah? Is that okay?”
You nod. It’s a little frantic, as desperate as your pleading.
When his lips press to yours again, you’re vaguely aware of movement elsewhere, of him using a combination of his evol and his hands to lift you just enough to shove his pants down his legs a little and resettle you in his lap, one less layer between you.
You nibble at his lower lip as his warm fingers play with your flimsy shorts, slowly, lazily, snaking their way into one of the legs. You gasp into his mouth, jolting at the tickle of his fingers as they brush over your underwear, over your throbbing cunt.
“I can feel it,” he says as he sucks in shallow breaths. “I can feel how warm you are.”
You blink at him, incapable of saying anything at all – focused instead on catching your breath.
He continues, warm fingers brushing lightly back and forth against the cotton between your legs, “Right here,” he breathes. “Hm? Right here, yeah?”
Your lips part, and close, and part again. Then, you nod.
Your world tips. He lifts you and lowers you onto the pillows before tugging you backwards against his chest – flush against his body, each of you lying on your sides. His breath is warm on your neck when he speaks, “I should check,” he says. “Just to be sure.”
It’s easier to speak like this, with your eyes on the snow falling though the window, instead of looking at him. “How?” you ask, a little crack in your voice.
His palm moves to your lower stomach, settles there a moment, then presses, forcing you right back against him. “You’ve gotta be close,” he says, his voice taking on the tone he’s always used when he was helping you study, gentle, patient – listen closely, it says, I’ll help you. “Just like this,” he continues. His hand leaves your stomach. He shifts a little. Then, his finger sneaks back through the leg of your flimsy pyjama shorts, forcing them to rise up right around the tops of your thighs until they’re basically a second layer of underwear. “We’ll leave these on for now, okay?”
You nod, nonverbal.
He tugs your underwear a little. You have no idea what for, distracted by the pulsing between your legs.
Then, heat, soft. His cock slips beneath your underwear, and in one smooth motion, slips along your sensitive cunt, skin to skin.
You whimper, twist towards him, and grip his bicep – stunned by the sudden reality of feeling him like this, pressed hotly against you. You’re sharply aware of the wetness he finds there; of the way you’ve been leaking for him.
His hand moves back to your stomach, holding you steady. “Just like this,” he breathes. You can’t see his eyes like this, twisted back towards him just enough that he can take your lips in his.
You whimper into his mouth again, unable to stop your hips from rocking back and forth. You take him with you as you rock – his cock trapped in your underwear.
You can’t get enough friction. He’s hot, and he’s hard, and you desperately want to reach down and press him against your cunt harder, so you can grind against the length of him like you did to a pillow when you were younger. As it was, you were pushing closer and closer to something almost painful.
You whimper and whine against his lips as he laps at you, making his own sounds – each one triggering a tightening of your walls, empty and desperate. Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
It’s an internal mantra that eventually seeps out of you in a pathetic, murmured, incomprehensible whine.
He separates from you enough to mutter, “What?”
You squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly overwhelmed without the distraction of his lips.
“What was that?” he asks again.
Your eyes flutter open, “I’m so empty.” It’s a pathetic sort of sound, the way those words slip out of you. But it was hard to be embarrassed when his pretty brows were twisting up and his lips were falling open and – “Fuck,” he breathes.
His hips roll into you, a satisfying pressure that has you gasping and gripping onto the arm that holds your waist.
“Say that again,” he groans into your neck. “Tell me how it feels inside.”
“So empty,” you answer, pressing back into him – bodies aligned perfectly now you’re twisted back to face the window. “All empty inside.”
“Yeah?” His cock slips against your slick hole, soft and warm. “Here?” he asks. He rocks against you as he mumbles into your neck, breath hot against your skin. “You all empty, pretty girl? Just here? Just for me?”
He could be saying anything. You nod, hardly hearing his words, just rocking back to meet the roll of his hips. “For you… for you,” you mutter breathlessly.
His hand slips beneath your shirt, pressing to your lower stomach. His breath ghosts behind your ear, and then he whispers as close to your ear as he can get, “Here?” His hand presses firm, right where that emptiness hurts most.
The sound that leaves you could be a cry. It’s a squeaky, broken sound.
The weight of his evol settles over you, a comforting weight that holds you still, preventing you from rocking against him. Then he’s rolling his hips back a little, just enough that his leaking tip prods at your swollen entrance. He plays with you like that, rocking in tiny movements – prodding over and over and over.
“Your hot little mouth isn’t your warmest spot, baby,” he says, still holding you still. “It’s right here,” he breathes, stilling prodding at your twitching hole, “Right between your soft thighs. Where I can’t see. Where no one can see.” His hot breath hits your neck as he speaks; as you hopelessly fight the weight preventing you from pushing back into him. “You’ll let me see, won’t you?” he continues, wrapping his arms around you fully.
“Caleb,” you whine, desperate.
“Mm? What’s wrong, baby?”
“Let me go. Please. Let me–”
“Why? Will you be a good girl? Or are you going to try and take me inside? Hm? You being greedy?”
“Inside,” you answer without thought, too desperate to do anything but say exactly what your mind is screaming. “Inside.”
“Mm,” he hums, nibbling at your earlobe. “That’s what I thought. Naughty girl.”
He shifts his hips back a little, taking away the only thing keeping you sane. “No,” you whimper.
Caleb kisses at your neck, wet, lazy kisses that feel a lot like how he was kissing your lips earlier, but then he sucks. It comes with noises. Wet, messy noises.
“Let me go,” you cry. “Let me–”
The weight lifts. He lets you go. You shift backwards, forcing his length along your cunt, over and over – an uncontrolled type of movement resulting from the build up of desperate need.
Then you catch the tip of him. You can’t reach down between your legs with the way he’s wrapped around you. You’re forced to roll your hips and try and guide him inside. His hand drop to your hip, preventing you, just as you get close. It’s too much. You’re at the end. And just when you’re about to break, he rolls you over onto your belly, his body covering you completely. He seems bigger like this – so big the world seems to disappear.
“Okay, okay,” he says in that way that so often makes you want to stamp your foot or punch him in the gut – a tone of voice that usually makes you feel like a baby having a tantrum. Not now, though. Now, it’s sweet relief.
His big hands reach down and drag your shorts down your legs, then your messy underwear, soaked through.
Then, his leaking tip finds you again, right where you’re desperate to take him inside. He prods a little, feeling the way you attempt to suck him inside, slick and warm. “You can be greedy now,” he whispers, letting his tip nestle at your twitching cunt as you grind back against him, trying to push onto him. “You can be greedy with me, baby.”
He sinks inside, letting you suck and clench around him with a pathetic sort of broken cry.
It’s not without suffering all of his own. You feel the vibration of the sound he makes into your neck. It sounds like he’s in pain – like maybe it’s too much.
You’re suffering together as you pulse around his heavy cock, twitching where it’s buried deep inside.
“Warm,” he mumbles, lips pressed to your neck. “Oh, fuck.”
You clench around him.
He whimpers.
“Warming you up,” you mutter, feeling very much out of your mind – like maybe you’ve forgotten how to string words together to make a sentence.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “That’s right. Keeping me warm. Pretty little pussy. So warm.”
Your responding hum sounds more like a squeak.
His arms tighten around you, warming you in his own way – his body heavy all over you.
“Gonna keep you like this,” he mutters, hips starting to grind a little, hardly pulling out at all, just pressing you into the mattress over and over. “Can I keep you like this? Hm? Keep you under me, fucked full, fucked… so full.” His palm shifts to your belly, right where he’s buried. “Here,” he groans, then bites at your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “Right where you’re warmest, yeah?”
“Mm,” you hum, gripping the sheets in your hands, desperate for something to hold onto.
It’s not until he’s pulling out and dropping his hips back into you that you speak again, overwhelmed by the feeling of his hips smacking against you loudly with each drop – shoving you into the mattress. “Don’t leave,” you sob. “Ple-please, don’t stop.”
His harm loops around your front, draped across your collarbones, holding you firmly beneath him. “Greedy girl,” he says, breathless. It sounds like praise. “It’s okay,” he says with a soft kiss to your neck. “Need to stay inside. Gotta stay warm. We’ll get you nice and full, yeah? Full of hot cum? Hm?”
“Okay,” you agree with a sob.
His responding, “Okay,” sounds like a sigh. “Yeah, nice and full. And we’ve gotta keep it there. Gotta stay inside.” His hips snap against you a little faster, a little less time pressed heavy and still at the end of each drop. “Until I’m hard again,” he continues between shallow breaths. “Until I can fuck you with it.” He sucks at your throat. “That okay? Can I breed my pretty girl? Hm? Get you all messy?”
You’re not sure you’ve ever been capable of speech in your life. It’s gone. Your lips part and you can’t make anything come out apart from a tiny, broken, call of his name.
“You can do it,” he coos. “Say it for me, baby. Tell me I can fill your little belly with cum. Tell me I can make you nice and warm inside.”
One of his hands finds your jaw, then his finger is pressing between your lips, like he’s trying to help you get the words out.
“Yes, please,” you manage. It’s small and pathetic and a little muffled by his finger in your mouth.
He shudders, his entire body suddenly a little heavier over you. It’s still then, all tension and weight. The next time he moves, it’s the pad of his finger pressing against your tongue. “Gonna give you everything.” His finger presses into your mouth in tandem with his cock deep inside you. That’s how he fucks you, pressing inside each of your warmest places, where he belongs.
Omg I literally just saw this comment on a Valko fic and I can't help myself.
Valko would be so adorable, whining into your folds as you gripped his hair, petting him softly to watch that fluffy tail wag if he were in his hybrid form. His huge hands would grip your thighs, keeping them pinned open for him to get the absolute most of your scent and taste. He could honestly cum in his pants just from that alone.
That's when you'd notice his hips rutting against the mattress he had you spread out on in quick, shallow thrusts, breathing getting heavier. He'd lift up quickly just for a small huff of air before burying himself muzzle deep once more, already regretting those few seconds away from your heat.
Valko's hips would move faster when you got wetter, claws accidentally digging into your thighs but quickly letting up when his sensitive ears hear your small wince. You'd almost wish he kept digging them in, the slight pain only added to your impending orgasm. He could smell you getting closer, your scent getting stronger.
Valko would growl low in his chest, unable to stop his hips from grinding down unto the bed as he imagined he was actually shoving his thick cock into your tight pussy instead. He groaned against you at the thought.
As soon as you came, moaning his name and tightening your fingers in his deep auburn locks, Valko felt his knot swell, barely contained anymore by his pants, which were immediately flooded with his own cum.
When you see the dark stain spreading between his legs and the absolutely pussy drunk look on his now wet face, you know you have to reward him for being such a good boy.
He'll definitely be living out that fantasy of his tonight.
18+ mdni | who knew your hot neighbour xavier was a spicy content creator? (if u guys like this lmk if u want a part 2!!!)
TW. dirty talk, mention of being a gooner lol, ethical dilemmas
“oh fuck my star, you’re squeezing me so tight”
your hand circled the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your heat as the voice of your favourite erotic audio creator ‘xoxolumiere’ played through your headphones.
when you first found him you felt almost embarrassed listening to the slick noises of his hand working his cock, quickly exiting out of the app and trying desperately to get his moans off your mind. you lasted a good couple days before getting home from a late night with your friends, deciding to “blow off steam” by pulling out the vibrator you hid in your bedside drawer, charging it as you scrolled through twitter for something to get you off.
you nearly gave up before seeing an upload from him—the warnings catching your eye.
handyman fucks you as payment (degradation+praise, whimpering, talking you through it)
with several shots in your system, you worked up the courage to sit through the entire 9 minutes of his soft voice uttering the nastiest phrases you had ever heard.
“this what you wanted, pretty? jus’ needed to be fucked good, right?”
“f-fuck, jus’ like that angel, work for that cock”
“o-oh god, gonna lemme cum inside you, right? please baby, got so much for you”
before you knew it you were dripping from his whines alone, vibrator forgotten as you scrolled through his page, bookmarking every audio that piqued your interest.
eventually it became a ritual, days passing in a blur as you waited for another post from him. sometimes you even listened to his regular audios, his soothing voice talking about his day helping you unwind after a stressful work week. you felt kinda weird for developing a parasocial relationship with someone you couldn’t even see (aside from the rare nudes he posted, sunlight reflecting off his built torso and highlighting the happy trail leading down to an unfairly pretty cock), but it’s not like you were hurting anyone!
it didn’t affect your work or personal life, so it wasn’t really that big a deal…still though, you found yourself in a moral dilemma more often than you wanted to admit. porn is super detrimental to society, but here you are with a whole alt account just to retweet it. you’d never let a man disrespect you, but you had post notifs on for some stranger that regularly called you a ‘dirty little whore’ in the audios he posted for his 3k followers. were you a gooner? as bad as the men you made fun of online?
these thoughts weighed heavy on your mind as you checked the mail, deciding to take a day off for some much needed self-care (code for lounging in your bummy clothes while you ordered food). stuck thinking about your…erotic predicament, you bumped into the broad chest of your neighbour xavier.
the flyers from your mailbox flew from your hands and combined with his pile of colourful letters. you stuttered out an immediate apology, mentally beating yourself up for wearing an ugly outfit the one time you literally bumped into your attractive neighbour.
“hey starlight” he muttered, the nickname easily falling from his lips as if it didn’t just ruin every other nickname ever for you. he came up with it after coincidentally bumping into you during a lunar eclipse, conversation flowing easily ever since then.
still—he was a good looking guy. even with the baggy clothes he always wore and his soft face, his sturdy frame always caught your eye. he crowded empty elevators when the two of you were alone, his towering height making you both nervous and excited. of course you still blushed around him.
you tried to give yourself the ick by saying he was probably filthy, but you knew it was a lie. he always smelled good and even with the basic clothes he wore, you never saw a stain or worried he was one of those guys that sniffed clothes to see if they were still good to wear.
“h-hey, i’m so sorry.”
he shook his head at your apology, quick reassurance falling from his lips to let you know it was his fault for standing in the way like an idiot. you giggled while sorting through the mail, noticing the large number of packages he received. “jesus xav, is this fan mail or do you just subscribe to every newsletter you see?”
your attempt at a joke fell on deaf ears, the tips of his ears turning red as he sputtered out how it was weeks of leaving his mailbox unopened. you wanted to apologize for intruding or overstepping but he spit out a quick apology that he had something in the oven and had to check on it. you watched him quickly walk to the stairs, going two at a time before waving once more and entering his floor.
the elevator dinged as you sighed at your complete lack of game, checking off another chance ruined with someone attractive. you looked through your mail as a distraction from the situation, flipping through the bills and bank statements before seeing a letter addressed to a different unit.
you scanned the envelope for a name before your breath caught, heart racing at the familiar user listed on the package.
‘xoxolumiere’
a lipstick stain was pressed next to the name, your eyes blinking several times as you tried to convince yourself this was a dream. there’s no fucking way the guy who’s voice you got off to lived in the same building as you.
before you could think better of it, you pressed his floor number and stood before the door, breathing picking up as you swiftly knocked three times, bracing yourself for the very real possibility he could be unattractive or a weirdo or…
“miss me already my star?”
you tried to think of a response, desperately wanting to be normal in front of your very hot and apparently very popular neighbour xavier. unfortunately though, today was just not your day.
you shoved the letter against his abdomen before walking off, ignoring the way his eyes widened and his voice called your name.
the elevator doors shutting shook you from the dream or nightmare you felt like you were in, shame immediately washing over you as you realized you had been getting off to your sweet and kind and incredibly sexy neighbour for months.
the worst part is that you knew you weren’t gonna stop—now that you knew he was hot, you were probably gonna become an even more active listener.
Our two bestest puppy boys can finally be united!! You've been really stressed at work, spreading yourself too thin at meetings and committing to way too many events. You're barely getting any time alone. And to top it all off, your two pups have been butting heads ever since the newcomer arrived, and it seems like nothing you do can bring them together. What you don't expect is for them to suddenly be acting...civil toward eachother? They must have an ulterior motive...
Hint: they're working towards a common goal to make their gracious and loving owner feel better!
tags/cw: grinding, fingering, oral (f!receiving), 2 guys 1 girl, knotting mentioned, biting, marking, spit kink if you squint, small amount of dubcon
an: this is my first time posting a fic on here and the idea randomly popped into my head at 2am last night so forgive me if it's trash lmao. And yes I was listening to cupcakke the whole time I wrote this what's it to ya?
Moderately proofread, if you see a typo no you dont.
word count: 1.3k
It's been a long 3 months since you took Valko in. You had owned and taken great care of Caleb for how many years now? It should be no problem to welcome a new addition to the family! At least that's what you thought. You could still remember the day they first met.
"Caleb, I'm home! And with a surprise!" You had shouted happily, having no clue about the chaos that would follow.
Caleb's tail, which had been wagging enthusiastically at the sound of your voice after a long 8 hour shift apart from you, abruptly stopped at the sight and scent of the newcomer. Betrayal. How could you march in here all proud, into your shared home, with another dog?
Caleb's eye practically twitched as he looked between the two of you, your face a mask of false confidence and Valko's look a sheer indifference. This was a terrible idea. You should have known Caleb would never be agreeable.
He could hardly even stand the smell of another male coworker that hugged you for a bit too long at that party last week, practically tearing your clothes off and throwing them into the washer before burying his face in your plump chest for at least an hour to breathe in your scent.
Only yours.
He's never been the understanding type, not when it comes to other men. All they are to him is competition, and Caleb never loses. This is no different.
"A surprise?" His voice was low, almost calculating.
Ever since then, there's never been a peaceful day between them, they're always at each other's throats. Valko has a way of riling up Caleb no matter what he does, and you can't figure out who's in the wrong. You spend half of your day trying to break up their quarrels while simultaneously giving them both an equal amount of affection so they don't get even more jealous. The other half of your day is spent working long hours, attending various meetings, and missing hours of sleep.
-
You arrive home late again, collapsing on the couch from sheer exhaustion before you can make it to your bed or even take off your clothes. The boys immediately come out of their respective spaces to greet their owner but standing shocked at the sight of you practically passed out on the couch. They wanted ear scratchies, not a sleepy master.
"Is she...okay?" Caleb frowns, forgetting about his own needs and shifting his focus entirely to you.
Valko responds plainly, "She's asleep."
“No shit.” Caleb snaps. For a moment, the air between them is charged again, that is until you shift slightly, the small noise making both their fluffy ears perk up (even Caleb's floppy ears, as much as they can anyways).
“She's exhausted. This is the 2nd week of late shifts.” He says, earning a stiff nod from Valko.
“I… we should help her.” Valko's voice is rigid at his own suggestion. We? As in him and Caleb? You would've thought this day would never come, yet here they are.
“...both of us. Both of us?” Caleb was about reading to start another fight, the fur of his tail prickling up slightly. He looks back at you. You truly are exhausted, and you always give your all for both of them. Don't get him wrong, Caleb has never minded being selfish when it comes to getting more belly rubs and treats from you, he loves it, in fact. But now that it's you in need, he's forced to comply. “Fine.” The word escapes his lips in a growl.
A temporary peace treaty.
Before you know it, the sun is rising again. You groan out loud, eyes still closed. Sun means work. Before you can truly loathe the day ahead, you feel two strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, followed by the loud thwamp thwamp thwamp of a heavy tail hitting the back of the couch. Valko. His tail is slightly bigger than Caleb's, so you can tell the difference. Another one follows though, this time against the floor, and before you know it you're being woken up by Valko's nibbling on your ear, and Caleb's tongue all over your cheeks as he kneels beside the couch.
“Boys…stop…” you manage, eyes blinking open and adjusting to the light. “Stop,” you repeat before freezing. This is the closest the two boys have ever been to each other, ignoring the fact that you're sandwiched between them. Your protest is short lived when you feel one of Valko's clawed hand running down your tummy and Caleb's up your thigh “boys…” you choke out. Valko's fingertips reach the heat pooling between your legs.
“You're wet, pup.” His voice is gravelly, and you can hear his smirk.
You didn't even know you were wet, but the dark patch growing on your panties is proof enough. When his middle and ring fingers reach your throbbing clit through your pants you can't help but let out a desperate mewl. You're too far gone to truly protest when Caleb's tongue drags up your inner thigh.
“I….I have work.” You say reminding yourself more than them
“You've been working sooo hard, already though” Caleb uses that innocently teasing tone that contrasts with his actions. Before you can react, your pants are strewn carelessly on the floor and your panties are left dangling from your ankle.
“Besides…” Valko chimes in, one long finger plunging impatiently into your waiting folds, “we called out for you. No more work today, pup.” He licks a long stripe up your ear, nipping gently as his finger pumps in and out torturously slow.
“Val-…ah-!” Your voice breaks when Caleb's drooling mouth finds your clit, hungry for your taste and high off your scent. Valko adds a second finger, his claws perfectly rough inside you as Caleb's tongue only adds to your wetness.
“Mmm… y'taste s'good…even better than y'smell, pips.” The vibration of his voice makes you whimper, one hand scratching at Val's wrist and the other tangling into Caleb's soft hair. You're so overwhelmed with pleasure you don't know where to grab.
It takes all of Valko's willpower not to replace his fingers with his cock, plunging into your tight heat, knotting you and filling you up to the brim.
No. Right now he needs to focus on you. But that doesn't mean he can't grind his aching erection against the swell of your ass. He groans into your ear, kissing and licking right beneath it, his saliva mixing with your sweat before he suddenly bites down hard enough to mark.
“Val!!” You cry out, sopping cunt clenching around his digits. Caleb follows suit with a gentle nip to your clit that makes you yelp and grip his hair harder. He rewards you with a low moan against your sensitive bud, which successfully shatters whatever control you had left.
“A-ah! Fuck… shit… I can't-” With a broken moan, your orgasm crashes over you with force hard enough to make you forget work ever existed - at least for now.
You feel Valko's knot swell against your ass as he cums inside his pants with a low growl-like groan like a dog in rut. As soon as his fingers leave your weeping cunt, you whine at the emptiness that's soon replaced by Caleb's tongue cleaning up the mess left behind. He continues to lick and suck until you push weakly at his head, completely pussy drunk.
When Caleb finally pulls away, kissing your thighs, you're a panting, sweating mess between them.
“You did s'good for us, pips.” A kiss to your lower belly “so good.”
Everyone at work the next day wonders why you're in such a good mood all of a sudden. It's safe to say your boys will definitely be working together again.
This was lowkey ass ik but it's the thought that counts mkay
satosugu are cheating on each other with you, part two.
part one here!
you knew your nebulous position as the other woman was never going to last. when you’re the affair partner of both people in the same relationship, it’s inevitable that the truth will eventually come out. you just decide to have it happen on your own terms.
you escalate your own behaviour; with suguru, who you mostly have sex with and share the occasional drink, you up your antics. you leave behind lip gloss, you kiss bruises in places he won’t immediately notice, keep your nails sharper to scrape lines down his skin. you moan in his ear as he fucks you and ask, “what would your husband think, if he walked in here right now? watching me take you like i’m the one you’re married to?” just to relish in the way his voice strangles on a heavy groan as he comes.
with satoru, who’s far more interested in the emotional side of things, you devote yourself fully to the role of secret girlfriend. with suguru, you might be a nice, illicit fuck for when his husband’s busy. with satoru? you’re the partner he wishes his husband was. he takes you on elaborate dates, he buys you flowers, he flourishes with every sweet kiss and whispered affirmation. when he calls you late at night, paralysed with fear because he just knows his husband is cheating, you leave suguru in bed to console him from the safety of your bathroom. he can barely look at you when he fucks you, refuses to turn the lights on, then shudders in your arms as you nurture him in the aftermath.
it’s manipulative. you’re halfway in love with them from the thrill alone. you let it build and build, watch as their marriage slowly falls apart from their own actions, and, when it’s all coming to a climax, you arrange a threesome.
in the end, it’s easy. you invite them. suguru tells you happily that his husband’s out of the prefecture that weekend, and he misses you so much, sweetheart. can’t stop thinking about you. satoru tells you his husband is definitely with that homewrecker, so why can’t he spend a weekend with you? they don’t even care about the third, so long as you make sure they’re hot.
then they both show up, and it’s glorious.
after all, aren’t you blameless? it’s suguru that told you he wants something casual, satoru who said he doesn’t mind if you see someone else at the same time, since he’s doing the same. it’s not your fault they’re cheating. it’s not your fault they’ve accidentally fallen for the same woman outside of their marriage. it’s definitely not your fault that you accidentally arranged a threesome with both of them. how could you know? it’s not like suguru’s ever seen you snooping through his apartment. it’s not as if satoru has given you any details about his wayward husband, either.
there’s a moment of silence. of shock. they stare at each other in obvious disbelief while you smile cluelessly. you tell them you “just know they’re going to get along!” and they “have so much in common.” they don’t correct you. no, suguru does something better:
“it’s nice to meet you,” he says, perfectly neutral. “i’m geto suguru. i’ve heard a lot about you.”
satoru looks heartbroken. he looks angry. “gojo satoru,” he replies. “can’t say i’ve heard much about you.”
“looking forward to learning more, i hope.”
“something like that.”
you’re giddy with excitement. how couldn’t you be? they don’t even know. they’re playing some secret, private game between just the two of them, unaware that you know. that you’re a witness to it—better yet, that you’re an orchestrator.
they fight over who kisses you first, and when you goad them into kissing each other, satoru bites suguru so hard his lip splits. suguru growls, pulls him by the hair, and tells him that if he can’t mind his teeth like a good boy, suguru will tie him up so he won’t be able to use his hands, either.
somehow, that’s exactly what happens.
satoru bites and scratches as you all undress, a ball of tightly wound feeling he can’t quite get ahold of. when suguru kisses your neck, satoru tugs at his long hair so hard his neck cracks. after that, well, suguru doesn’t let it slide. he sits you in satoru’s lap and watches satoru bite his way across your tits before pulling his arms behind his back and tying him to the headboard. satoru’s legs follow, winding his calves to his thighs. it says something that satoru doesn’t argue.
“you act like you two know each other,” you say breathily, chest sore from where satoru bit your breasts on the wrong side of too hard, skin pinkening and indented with the shallow divots of his teeth.
satoru groans, watching as suguru pulls you away, situating you in his lap with your back to his chest and your legs spread over his thighs, presented to his husband. “never met the guy,” he says lowly, “and if i have, i don’t recognise him.”
“don’t worry,” suguru croons. “we are going to get very familiar.” his hand caresses down your side as he says it, thumbs rubbing strong circles into your skin.
satoru’s eyes stay fixed on your face.
suguru takes you apart with careful efficiency, teasing you until your pussy flutters with each brush of his fingers against your thighs, your navel, just short of the apex of your thighs. when he finally touches you where you want him, his fingers are long and slow and languid as he spreads you open, fingering you with lazy contentment as he sucks wet kisses down your neck and back. he leaves you straining and whining, makes satoru watch until he’s groaning as if he can feel the phantom touch of suguru’s every caress.
suguru bends you forward until you’re on your hands and knees, head just barely brushing against satoru’s knees. satoru parts his legs further, staring down at you with something close to awe. a little scared, a little sad, and very aroused. suguru crowds your back, bending over your figure and biting the shell of your ear as he slowly, slowly sinks into you.
“my good little wife,” suguru says, loud enough for satoru to hear. satoru chokes on his next breath, bordering on a sob. “should’ve married you, sweetheart. i could keep you like this forever.”
“suguru—“ satoru pants.
his skin is red and raw from his shuffling, his dick rock hard and straining against his black boxers. from the way his chest heaves, his eyes burn red-rimmed with tears, you’d think he’s the one being fucked. when he catches you looking, he lurches forward with a low groan, cut off as the rope tightens around his muscular thighs. he murmurs your name on a strangled groan.
a hand moves, grabbing you by the cheeks and pulling you to look over your shoulder, neck craning at an awkward angle. “ignore him, sweetheart.” suguru whispers in your ear. “eyes on me. he’s not the one fucking you so good, is he?”
“i could be,” satoru growls. “i have. fucked her hard and fast, like a whore. she must be, if she’s willing to fuck you.”
it’s mean, unnecessarily targeted at you when the ire is really directed at his husband. suguru’s eyes crinkle on a smile.
“that’s not a very nice thing to say, is it? she’s always so sweet, so good. maybe you just don’t fuck her right.”
“i’ll show you—“
you stop listening. suguru thrusts so hard and sure, just slow enough to have you craving more, just fast enough to satisfy you. stamina has always been his strong suit, and he fucks you into over sensitivity. his thumb moves, sitting heavy and mean over your clit, rubbing firmly against you with every thrust forward. you fall apart warbling his name, hands reaching backwards to scratch at his thighs. then he fucks you to tears, keeping eye contact with satoru, muttering filth in your ear all the while.
“should knock you up, so you have no choice but to marry me.” he says, watching as satoru’s mouth drops on a whine. “keep you happy and full in my bed, so you never have to leave. you’d be the perfect wife, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”
satoru comes untouched with a breathy whine of your name. your name, as if his husband isn’t right there. as if he hadn’t just watched his husband fuck the girl he’d been playing around with. suguru follows soon after, spilling into you unprotected.
they both stay the night. you share a quiet, almost awkward breakfast, where you play the fool and chatter with your usual enthusiasm. when they leave, it’s at the same time.
you don’t know what happens when they get home. what you do know is that suguru texts you a few days later to come over. satoru asks you out on another date. and, a few weeks later, you fall back into bed with the both of them.
🔞 to celebrate the launch of our new wolfie boyfie i thought i'd give my personal headcanons before we are fully introduced to him !
Bf!Valko that's built like a greek god, muscles flexing everytime he walks, veins bulging everytime he moves , he is the definition of strength and charisma- except when he's around you. Suddenly his tail is sweetly wagging side to side, his ears are twitching in search for your melodic voice and his nose flares to take in your smell! He sits like a good puppy when you tell him to, he quiets down when you give him a certain look and he is your most obedient good boy ! (sometimes...)
Bf!Valko that can't think of a better way to spend his evenings than stuck to you like a leech. Youre sat on a couch? he will be sticking his head on your thighs and wait for some ear scratches. Youre making dinner? He will stand nearby and wait for you to throw him some treats. Youre leaving for work? not before he rubs all on you to make sure youre scented enough for the whole day.
Bf!Valko that tries hard not to be a mean bratty dog because he knows you like him gentle. But he cant help it, sometimes work gets too hard he has a bad day, he comes home with a closed off face and growls at any sound you make. He's just overwhelmed! No worries you make sure to put his anger into something productive! Like watching him rut on your thigh while muffling his mouth with your fingers to avoid any annoying growls >:( He's so desperate and so pent up he doesn't even last that long, and as he comes right in his work pants, cum leaking through the fabric because yes your beastly man cums in big loads ! His tail goes rigid and his little canines scrape at your fingers while he whines to finish :p
Bf!Valko that wants you on his face at least once a day! i mean have you seen that side profile?? that nose? those sharp features??? THE TEETH?? he would lapping at you for hours with no will to stop, purposely grabbing your ass and forcing you to grind right on his nose bridge, the friction would be nothing short of scrumptious and maybe some ... nose fucking would get involved? Definitely. Even better if you grab his hair for support and end up with your nails near his ears : he ends up with his hips flailing in the air, knot forming and looking for your warm walls to leak into :(
Bf!Valko that's addicted to your smell and pheromones so badly, he cant even spend a day without carrying on of your shirts, pants (panties lel) in his pocket, the smell calming him down in seconds, well it also makes his pants slightly tighter than usual but he is a yearner at heart after all.
Bf!Valko mates for life. He has you for the first time and sees heaven through his golden eyes: Youre his only reason for life and he makes sure you know it. He never lets you work too hard, lift too much or do too many chores, hes built for your use and your use only !
Bf!Valko that's sadly not immune to squeeckie toys, little bells or...clicker training..hmmm..
In conclusion Valko is your good loyal boy at home, he's an angry brat that needs constant discipline but his big knot and sharp nose make up for that !
@vieviesmt :p lmk if this hits hehe and ofc these are personal speculations , so excited to know about Valkos real nature !
