AnimeSimp

Eventually, he'll start idly stroking your hand, his big thumb running back and forth across the veins on the back. He'll also hold your hand in both of his, playing with your smaller fingers, or gently trail his fingernails up and down your forearm to make you shiver, holding your wrist in place with his other hand.

And if that still doesn't work, and you have the gall to start doing it again while he's right there? Well, clearly you need to learn your lesson! He wraps his arms around both of yours and cuddles up beside you, keeping you immobilized in his embrace and refusing to let go. If you won't use your hands responsibly, then you don't deserve to use them at all! (He knows you're more likely to indulge in the habit while stressed, so he decides to extract you from the stressful situation altogether. If there's one thing he's good at, it's bringing up your mood!)

"Valko-" Your protest is cut off as he wraps his huge arms around you and squeezes you tight, rolling over to trap you on top of his chest. You squirm, trying to free your arms, but it's as if you're trying to move a brick wall. He kisses up your neck, and you giggle, feeling his smile press against your skin. "You're staying here until I decide you've learned your lesson. You're trapped." He nips your neck playfully, and you try to wriggle free again, just for fun. "But-" He turns on his side, nestling you between his chest and the back of the couch, allowing you to turn and face him. You're enveloped in his warmth, and you let yourself relax, no longer caring so much about your trapped arms as you look up at him. His breath grazes your forehead as he speaks, his voice soft. "No buts. I said I'd help you stop, and a wolf keeps his word." He kisses once, twice, three times to your temple, and a fourth to the tip of your nose. He chuckles when you smile up at him, and guides your head into the crook of his neck. "And this wolf is feeling preeetty tired. I think it's time for a nap." No matter how much you kick or whine, he won't budge. With a huff, you go limp, letting yourself give in to his warmth, and your eyes slowly droop closed. You think you hear a quiet rumble of satisfaction from his chest, but when you open an eye to check, it seems he's fast asleep. Must have been your imagination.

Despite your desperate efforts to reject his help, Kalim is determined to get you to confess to Jamil. At least you distracted him enough so that you didn’t have to confess on the spot. However, he’s quite intent on planning your “perfect” confession To Jamil…which has led you to countless practice confessions with Kalim the following week. 

Things were going scarily well, and you’re now just working up the courage to actually say the words to Jamil. With Kalim, however, some things can never go too right without any consequences…

You currently sit in Kalim’s dorm room across from the boy, reciting your confession to him. It’s about noon, and the both of you haven't had lunch. Oh dear…

Gingerly holding a tray of snacks for you and holding Kalim’s lunch in the other, Jamil makes his way up to the dorm rooms to feed you two. What he doesn’t expect is the hushed tones he hears from you and Kalim behind the door, and his heart twinges with a little fit of jealousy–not that he’d admit it to himself.

But what really takes hold of his heart is when he can make out your next words, “I’ve loved you for a long time. Please accept my feelings!” Startled, he almost drops the treats from his hands. 

All this time, you assumed that you were far from Jamil’s league. Though he may seem annoyed, he always takes you through problems you can’t get into your head, no matter how many times it may take. Even if he doesn’t want to stand out, you feel your heart flutter watching him in his games when he’s in the zone. You’ve always kept your feelings to yourself, and you made an effort to never show it. You’d wanted nothing more than to be able to call yourself his, and him yours. 

What you didn’t know was that Jamil had that same longing for you, if not stronger. 

But now it’s all ruined. (Or so he thinks).

Because of course you’d pick Kalim over him. It’s been that way since he was a child–it was quite literally in his blood to put his desires below an Asim. 

And so he blankly knocks on the door, and walks in like nothing happened. Despite how Scarabia’s dorm is usually hot and humid, the room’s atmosphere drops to subzero. 

Even Kalim understands the grave situation, and attempts to gracefully amend it. 

Clawing at Jamil’s pants, he shrieks, “JAMIL! WAIT!! DON’T LEAVE!!! THE PREFECT HAS SOMETHING TO SAY TO Y–”

Despite his gallant efforts, the vice-housewarden simply places down the tray he brought in, peels Kalim off his person, and politely nods to the wide-eyed you before leaving the room. 

How were you going to get over this?

Over the next few days, your attempts at reconciling with Jamil are cute at most. Or rather…you aren’t given the chance to do so in the first place. 

Before class starts, Jamil intentionally enters at the last minute so that he can get the seat farthest away from you. 

Rushing over to the classroom, you promptly set aside your bag to the seat next to you to save it for Jamil. After a few minutes, a string of students come along and take their seats as well–Jamil usually included. But for some reason, he enters unusually late, taking the seat closest to the door despite you waving in his direction. He definitely saw you, by the way. Ace even made fun of you for being ignored, making a few students snicker at the situation. 

When by some miracle that the both of you are paired up for alchemy class, he perfectly takes control of the vibe and conversation so that the two of you strictly converse about the lesson at hand. 

“Jamil, I–”

“Prefect, please continue stirring the pot, we can’t mess up the potion when we’re almost done.”

“Okay, okay. Can I just talk to you about last ti–”

“You can talk to me later, we have to get this potion to Crewel.” 

Later never came, because the minute you finished your work, Jamil blasted off the classroom claiming he needed to tend to Kalim’s lunch (which is a complete lie, of course, because he always prepares it the night before. In the past, he’d make one for you too.)

But you guessed you wouldn't be getting his cooking this time–even eating with Kalim during lunch doesn’t work. He perfectly times his meals so that when you approach the two of them at their table, he’s just about finished eating (can he sense you coming their way or something?!)

Despite your efforts to get closer to Jamil, it only feels like he’s getting farther and farther away from you. Is this his way of letting you down? You suppose it’d be easier for him to straight up ignore the fact that you were practicing your confession to him as a way to quietly reject your feelings…

But that doesn’t feel right either, because you were 99.67% sure that he liked you back. For starters, he’d bring you home cooked lunch every week, walk you back to your dorm, help you study for tests even when it cost him his rare downtime…he even gave you his jersey to wear to his games! You were literally just waiting for a confession at this point! 

Feeling responsible for making you and Jamil grow apart, Kalim resorted to plotting with Grim to get the both of you to talk…

“Hey, Henchman, Ace told me to meet you at the lockers after practice, he said he had something to give to ya.” 

“Ooh Jamil!! Can you teach me basketball? I’ll meet you at the court later, see ya!” 

With a sigh, the both of you head over to the court…Jamil visibly freezing when he sees you. Before he could turn away, you quickly grip his wrist. 

“Prefect, let go.” He tried to wiggle his hand away from your grasp, but he doesn’t have the heart to fully shake it off. 

“Jamil, please, I’ve been trying to talk to you all week! Meeting you here may have been a coincidence, but I think it’s time I finally clear things up…”

“What is there to clear up? This is hardly appropriate, considering how you’re together with Kalim now. Let go of my hand.” Jamil’s icy tone is betrayed by the look of hurt he’s wearing on his face. On the other hand, a hundred question marks are flying around your head. Since when were you dating Kalim??

“What?? What are you on about?” You let go of his hand, but step forward to face him clearly and place them on his shoulders. Consequently, he searches your eyes for any hint of trickery—he knows what he heard the other day, after all. 

Then, you both speak at the same time: 

“Jamil, I like you!!” 

“Prefect, please stay away from me.” For Kalim’s and my family’s sake.

… 

A silence envelops the two of you, processing one another’s words. Slowly, Jamil takes your arms into his and leans his head against your shoulder. His grip on you is heavy, but it doesn’t hurt—it just tells you how much he’s been holding back the past week. 

“Are you sure?” Facing you, he mutters, “Tell me I heard that right.” 

“It’s kind of embarrassing…but Kalim was helping me prepare my confession for you,” you gently held the sleeve of his uniform, avoiding his gaze, “I was really hurt when you avoided me the whole week, I thought you were silently letting me down…” 

Internally, Jamil gave himself a slap to the face. He prided himself on being able to easily read into people’s thoughts and actions, but it seems he turns blindsided when it comes to the girl he loves…

“I can’t believe I almost lost you to my stupid conclusion…” he takes your hand in his and lets out a shaky breath, “I’m sorry, Prefect.” 

“That’s right. You didn’t even let me use the confession I spent weeks practicing for!” 

Chuckling, he lets out a relieved sigh now that you’re able to joke with him, “Well, you can say it now if you like.”

“Now you’re just putting me on the spot. Maybe tomorrow…” 

“Hm? So you can practice it with Kalim first?” 

You give him a look, and instead pull him into a big hug in response, “For the record, I’m still the one who confessed first. Are you planning on leaving me hanging?” 

“Hmph. Fair enough,” he reaches out to cup your face, intense eyes meeting yours, “I like you too, Prefect.” 

Extra: 

Too in love and focused on each other, you and Jamil fail to notice the small crowd that formed outside the court doors. 

“TAKE THAT KALIM!! I TOLD YA THE PREFECT WOULD CONFESS FIRST. PAY UP.” 

you were standing in the fluorescent-lit purgatory of the 24/7 convenience store, a basket hanging from your elbow with an xl pack of condoms already inside.

“what else, what else…”

the air conditioning was too cold, raising goosebumps on your arms, brushing over the sprinkle of scales already adorning your skin. the cool air was combatting the warmth from the outside, but there was a deeper heat slowly coiling low in your belly, pulsing harder and harder, overtaking your very being quietly — a heat that couldn’t be tamed by the artificiality of the cooling device.

you’ve been feeling it for hours. the telltale thrum, the hypersensitivity of your skin, the way your gums ache faintly where your fangs wanted to push through.

ebb day is tomorrow. officially.

you still have a few hours to prepare.

your phone unexpectedly buzzed against your skin, a frantic, continuous tremor that has you fumbling for it. rafayel’s name light up the screen, a silly picture of him trembling together with the vibrations.

you swiped to answer, a teasing remark already on your lips.

“if you’re calling to back out–”

“please.” his voice cut you off, and it sounded wrong. it was not the smooth, sultry baritone he usually wielded like a weapon, articulating witty remarks at your expense. it was breathless, strained, cracking at the edges. “please, come over.”

you froze between aisles, your hand tightening on the phone. “rafayel?”

“i need you.” a low, fractured whine escaped him, and the needy sound went straight to your core, igniting the latent heat into a sudden, roaring blaze. “it’s… it’s early. it’s so early. i thought i had more time but it’s… i need you now.”

you could picture him too clearly.

at his seaside manor, in the vast, luxurious bedroom, with the curtains wide open, welcoming the full moon. rafayel, welcoming you, sprawled on his massive bed, his pale skin flushed and beaded with sweat, his hair a disheveled mess of purple.

you imagined him grasping his phone with a trembling hand, spotted with scales, his pupils blown wide, his lips parted in gasps.

fangs peeking through oh so beautifully.

“i’m at the store.” you said, your voice coming out rougher than you intended, your own state suddenly worsening due to rafayel’s intervention. “i’m getting the things. i’ll be there after checkout–”

“no.” he gasped immediately, and the desperation in his voice was loud, a hook that sunk into your chest and pulled you like a fish out of waters. “too long. ugh– i can’t– please. i can’t wait anymore. i feel like i’m burning up. we have everything here, so...”

“i need you. please, please, just ahhhh– come here.”

the plea was a whisper, broken and sweet, and that did it for you. you’ve always been weak for him. in this human form, in your true one, it didn’t matter; he had you wrapped around his pinky finger since you were children, even if he didn’t always know it.

“raf…”

you wanted to say something stubborn, to remind him that you were buying the very supplies he’ll be grateful for later, but another whimper came through the line, and your resolve crumbled to the ground.

“fine.” you heard yourself say, already turning and abandoning your basket on a shelf, condoms and all. “i’m coming right now. stay on the line.”

he let out a soft, relieved sound, and you could’ve sworn a sloshing noise accompanied his tune. “okay. f–fuck– okay.”

you left the store at a near-jog, the warm night air hitting your flushed cheeks.

the moon was almost up, a perfect, luminous circle in the sky, yet too bright, too full. it made your blood sing, your skin prickling with more and more clusters of scales.

you could still hear rafayel’s breathing on the other end of the line, quick and uneven, punctuated by tiny, swallowed sounds that he’s probably trying to hide.

that, and low, wet sounds — most likely his hand moving lazily up and down his stiff cock.

“tell me how you’re feeling.” you said as you slid into your car, your hand steady on the wheel even as everything inside you was starting to shake.

you have to keep your composure for just a little longer.

you also have to keep rafayel in check and make sure he doesn’t tip over.

“hot.” he breathed into the phone. “everything’s s–shit– too hot. my clothes… i took them off already. i’m just in the sheets. i nghnn– keep thinking about your hands.” his voice dropped, becoming that familiar, teasing cadence even through the haze of the heat.

“you have such nice hands. so soft– ngh– i keep thinking about them on ahh– me. groping me, pinning me down. do you think you can do that?”

your fingers tightened on the steering wheel, your knuckles whitening at his request. “rafayel.”

“i want you to.” he continued, his voice a low, needy murmur. the sticky sounds raised in intensity, no longer just background noise. “i need you so bad. i need you on top of me, baby.”

you pushed the accelerator harder, running a stop sign you didn’t even register. the streets blurred under your hazy vision, the city lights smearing into streaks of color. the heat inside you was building up with every word of his, with every little gasp and hitch of his breath.

rafayel was doing a phenomenal job at riling you up.

“what are you thinking about?” he asked all of a sudden, his voice a silken thread that woke you up. “are you thinking about me?”

“yes.” you admitted bluntly, the word torn from you without much effort.

“nhgh… t–tell me, baby.”

“the way you look when you’re between my thighs.” your voice was steady, booming from the speakers of his phone, but your hands were shuddering now. fingernails threatening to elongate into monstrously sharp claws. “the way you eat me out so good.”

he groaned, a breathless, shattered sound, and his hand sped up. the wetness staining his cock was palpable, the sound harsh yet delicate. “f–fuck yeah, i wanna taste your cunt so bad.”

a pause, then his voice murmured a confession once more. “i need to bury my face in you. i need to smell you. ahhhh– bet you’re drenched already, can almost s–sniff it from here.”

he was right. since the beginning of your conversation, the flimsy material of your panties was nothing but sticky. each and every request of his, delving into his nastiest wishes, generated more gooey arousal, effectively coating your panties in a generous amount of slick.

it also did not help that you were a lemurian, normally producing more slick than a mere human.

thankfully, you were pulling through the gates of his estate, the tires of your car crunching on the gravel driveway. you didn’t even bother parking properly — just killed the engine and eft the car where it stopped.

“i’m here.” you said into the phone, your legs carrying you up the front steps without waiting for another invite.

you swung the door open without a second thought.

rafayel was standing at the end of the hallway, and the sight of him made your clit throb.

he was fully naked, his skin gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat, his hair plastered to his temples. his chest was heaving, his pupils so dilated that his irises were reduced to thin rings of purple. but it was the scales that caught your attention — a scattering of iridescent, pearl-white scales along his cheekbones, down his neck, across his shoulders.

painting his skin, lower and lower.

going beyond the base of his aching cock.

the scales shimmered in the moonlight, catching the light like tiny mirrors.

“baby!” his eyes found yours, and he smiled — a beautiful, unhinged grin, all sharp teeth and raw need. “you came.” he breathed, relieved, taking wobbly steps towards you.

he was deeply affected by the rising full moon, hands jumping away from his sides and searching for support onto the walls.

you were soon to be deeply affected as well as your nostrils inhaled the pheromones dominating the entire mansion: the smell was terrifically strong, a pungent odor that lulled you towards primal desires. you almost stumbled backward from the powerful aroma, palm shooting up and covering the bottom half of your face in an attempt to protect your senses.

“f–fuck, the smell…”

you needed to remain levelheaded.

you needed to remain the rational one, since rafayel was clearly indulging fully in the effects of the moon.

but it was hard. you could already feel your fans poking through your gums, could already sense the tremble in your body as rafayel caught up to you.

your entire being was calling for him, just like his own called for you.

his quivering hands clawed at your dress, pulling you fully inside, the door slamming shut behind you two and effectively trapping you in his den. taking advantage of the defensive stance you took, he manhandled you against the closest wall, caging you perfectly, his body a line of burning heat against yours.

“ah, ah, ah, you…” his face instantly found your neck, burying itself in the seductive dip between your throat and shoulder. and, with a loud whiff, rafayel inhaled your own tumbling pheromones. “ahhh– smell so fucking good.”

he did not stop at that, nuzzling further into your skin, dragging the tip of his nose up towards your pulse point, punctuating the spot right behind your ear. with that, he managed to caress a patch of sensitive scales, eliciting a moan out of your hidden lips, forcing your palm to abandon its post to tangle in his messy locks.

“baby, please, pull ugh– my hair, please.” he started to beg as he felt your fingers latch onto the roots of his hair, body curving into yours more and more.

his legs snuck their way between your own, parting your thighs and allowing his knee to dip into the material of your dress and make contact with your clothed pussy. his arms flew away too, finally taking hold of your torso and putting you into a needy embrace.

“raf, i–”

your voice echoed in his ears, blessing him with the delicious shudder of your tone. but something was wrong, he slowly realized between his hazy thoughts — you have yet to make your move, you have yet to show the same neediness he has been carrying for hours.

“i–is something wrong? no, please, baby…”

he removed his face from your neck, abandoning his mission to devour your scent gland in favor of discovering what was holding you back. a strong feeling of anxiety shook his entire body, and memories of abandonment flashed between his obscene fantasies.

changing the atmosphere entirely.

“go on, raf, it’s okay–”

“n–no.”

you couldn’t resist him, especially not now.

he decided to perch his head on your chest, entire body slouched over your own, and look up at you with his lust-filled orbits. the pout on his lips was dangerous, accessorized by his long and sharp fangs. his legs were now practically glued to yours… and you could feel his heavy cock pressing against your thigh.

“do you not want me, baby?”

oh, he was gonna be the death of you.

“raf, someone h–ngh–as to be rational, i can’t give into pleas–”

“we will be careful, like always…” he cut you off enthusiastically, tightening his hold on your midriff to block any kind of escape. worse, he dipped his face lower into your chest, pressing right against your exposed sternum… and sticking his tongue out to taste your sweaty skin.

“rafayel.” you warned through gritted teeth, gripping the base of his scalp and pulling his head back. but he was ready for such an action, simply letting out more length of his monstrous tongue and continuing his perverse ministration across the peaks of your breasts.

“i k–know what will help!” he chirped between licks, and the sensation of his rough, elongated tongue tracing the delicate flesh of your chest made your resolve shake.

you tried to hold firm, to remember the reasons why someone needed to stay level-headed, but he was a master of persuasion: his hands, which had been so needy and clammy, slid down your hips with a slow, teasing pace. and he stopped when he reached the fabric of your short skirt, fingers twitching at the hem.

“just a taste.” he whispered, long tongue retracting from your skin to wet his lips. “i ugh– to taste your pussy, baby. please.”

his voice was a raspy, desperate plea, and the sight of his body — the way he pressed himself against you, precum wetting the ends of your dress — broke something in you. you were supposed to be the rational one, but the pheromones were a thick haze in your lungs, intoxicating your very being.

your own body betrayed you, the ache between your thighs becoming a pulsing, insistent throb. your firm grip on his hair lessened, hand guiding his head unconsciously down your body, moving him in line with your center.

“ah– j–just a bit...” you breathed, your voice shaking now. “but then we m–”

move to the bedroom — he didn’t let you finish.

a submissive, relieved groan escaped him, and he was already sliding down your body. his bare knees hit the floor with a sharp thud, but he didn’t flinch. you tried to steady yourself, but rafayel had other plans — hiking your right leg up his shoulder, spreading you wide open for him. and you were taken by surprise, fingers curling and pushing his head around from the sudden movement.

“f–fuck yeah.”

he let out a sharp, encouraging moan against your exposed thigh, and you felt his lips press a wet kiss on the newly exposed patch of skin of your knee.

his hands shoot up, scattering the hem of your dress. he pushed the material up around your waist, silently prompting you to hold it down and away from him. the cool air of the hallway licked at your exposed thighs, prickling at your scale-scattered skin.

his gaze dropped, and he stared at the sight before him, cock twitching between his bent legs. the wet spot on your panties was dark and obscene, the cotton perfectly clinging to the shape of your pussy. you were absolutely soaked through, arousal escaping the comfort of your underwear in order to stain your inner thighs.

the rims around his blown-out pupils turned a bright blue, and a devouring hunger flashed across his features.

“oh, my baby.” he breathed, the words almost a whimper. “you’re s–so wet for me. i bet it h–hurts so much.”

he didn’t wait for an actual answer as he leaned forward to thoroughly inspect you. his nose pressed into the damp fabric, and he inhaled deeply, a tremble running through his body as he feasted on your scent. he nuzzled against the soaked cotton, his sharp fangs grazing your sensitive flesh through the thin barrier, and your knees nearly buckled.

your hand forced his head deeper instead of pulling it away, a silent surrender to the powers of the moon.

he took the signal with a groan of satisfaction. his tongue snaked out, long and monstrous, and he dragged the wide, flat of it across the dark spot. he licked slowly, savoring you through the fabric, his eyes rolling back from the aroma.

“you ahh– s’ good.” he mumbled against the fabric, his voice muffled by the fabric and his groans.

but he needed more than just soaked panties. so, with a swipe of his tongue, he wrapped the length twice around the gusset of your panties, tugging the material downwards. you felt the wet cotton drag along your sensitive flesh as it was removed, exposing your cunt entirely to his burning gaze.

“r–raf, please.”

he saw everything: your wet, swollen flesh glistened in the dim light, your clit engorged and peeking out from its hood. a fresh glob of your arousal slid down your inner thigh, and his adam’s apple bobbed at the bodily reaction.

“babyyy…” his breathing hitched, and he slowed down, his entire being focused on the sight and scent of you. “look at you.” he muttered, his voice heavy by lust. “so beautiful, so mesmerizing.”

and before you could form a response, he dived in. his lips glued onto you, and his tongue — still a long, monstruous muscle — latched onto your entire cunt. he licked a wide, flat stroke from your oozing entrance to your pulsing clit, and the feeling of his wet mouth against your slick flesh made you whine.

he did it again, and again, building a rhythm that was ruining you from the inside out. he was starved, licking and sucking and slurping you like an intoxicated man who knew no other flavour.

“rafayel, r–fa–yel!”

you threw your head back, the wall cold against your skull, as you fought for composure. but it was a losing battle: his mouth was too skilled, too curious to discover your pussy. he found every sensitive nerve with the tip of his tongue, swirling around your clit until you were seeing stars, then dropping down to probe at your entrance.

licking up the streams of your juices like they were the only source of water in the world.

you made the mistake of looking down at him. he was on his knees before you, his body trembling with the effort of restraint and desire. his eyes were heavy-lidded, focused solely on his task, and his gills —delicate, slit-like openings on his neck — fluttered slightly as he breathed through them, allowing him to remain glued to you without a pause for air.

he was relentless, dedicated.

he needed you to tip over into your animalistic side.

“i– oh, fuck–”

your voice cracked and morphed into a high, unhinged moan as he circled his tongue around your clit, wrapping it tightly with its length while he sucked the bundle of nerves with his lips. the tip of his tongue dipped lower treacherously, pushing against your greedy hole and effectively overflowing your mushy brain with pleasure.  

your hips jerked forward of their own accord, and you felt your fingers drag through his hair, pulling him even tighter against you, demanding more even as you were overwhelmed.

“hmhmm– ngh–” he moaned into you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your pelvis.

his hands slid up your thighs, thumbs spreading your lips wider, giving him unrestricted access to every inch of your center. he worked on you with a desperate, submissive fervor, eating you out as if his existence depended on your pleasure.

and it was working. the feeling built and built in your tummy, a coil of heat tightened and tightened with every flick of his tongue.

“al’st.” he gasped, pulling away just enough to see the defeat in your eyes. his lips and chin were shining with your wetness, his sharp teeth shimmering as he smiled at you. “cum in my mouth, please.”

your resolve had shattered the moment his mouth had made contact. so you just nodded frantically, a sobbing whine escaping your lips, and he leaped at the signal. his mouth descended again with renewed vigor, long tongue focusing on your engorged bud. he sucked hard, creating a devastating pressure, while he simultaneously probed the back of his tongue against your entrance, massaging the contracting muscles.

“ah, i’m–”

you came with a cry that echoed down the empty hallway, your body arching off the wall as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through you. your hand forced his face deeper into you, and he drank everything, his moans of ecstasy vibrating against your sensitive flesh as he swallowed your release.

and he didn’t stop. he kept licking, easing you through the shaking aftermath, his eyes locked on your trembling form with a satisfied, devouring gleam.

“ah, a–ah, ah.”

when you finally opened your eyes, you had a good look at his needy, disheveled face, still resting between your thighs. his lips and chin were slick with you, his long tongue still lazily licking at your flesh as if he couldn’t bear to lose the taste. his gills fluttered rapidly, and he smiled up at you — temporary satiated by your pussy.

… or so you thought.

“g–go again?” he pleaded, his voice high-pitched and weak. “please, please, please, ple–”

and you knew why he was begging so arduously: gazing downwards at the floor, you soon realized that he also spilled his release, most likely pushed over the edge by your own orgasm. the floorboards were covered in a thick layer of cum, white and sticky substance staining his thigh and your own resting foot.

 “please, baby, one more time– i love your pussy, i–”

you were still trembling from your own climax, chest heaving, gills fluttering on the sides of your neck. but something in his desperate, submissive tone made you sit up straighter, an ounce of rationality still guiding you. yeah, you felt the wetness between your thighs, the echo of his tongue still a pulsing memory, but you knew that you were far from satiated.

the moon’s pull was still in your bones, and his pheromones were a thick haze in the air.

you reached down, took a handful of his wet hair, and pulled his face away from your cunt. the slick was thick, mixed with his saliva, and it created a strong, sticky bridge between his lips and your nether ones.

“m–move…” you commanded, your voice coming out fragmented, tainted by your orgasm and the heat. “bedroom, now.”

his eyes flashed with relief, and he nodded so quickly that his locks flipped against his temples. “yes– yes, baby, anything.” with obedient, trembling hands, he pushed himself up from his knees, his muscular thighs quivering as he rose. he was still weeping, his cock stiff and red, the tip glistening with his own release.

but he made no move to wipe it away, fixated on obtaining you.

before you could step forward, he enveloped you in his arms, both hands sliding under your knees and lifting you as if you were made of feathers. your legs latched around his hips on instinct, your dress riding up to your waist, your naked slick pussy pressing against his abs. he took off with long, hurried steps, his legs no longer staggering.

“c’mere.”

his mouth was on yours before you could process his words.

“so ngh– good t’ me.” he mumbled against your lips, his tongue sharing your aroma. “so beautiful, so perfect– i’m ugh– not deserving.” he kissed you with a wide, open mouth, his sharp fangs grazing your lower lip as he pushed your dress higher with each push.

his words were a stream of subservient praises — celebrating your benevolence in assisting him with his heat — as he carried you through the living room and into the wide, disheveled bedroom. and his mouth never stopped; he fully slurped at your lips, devouring your mouth with the same fervor he ate your pussy.

he loved to caress your fangs with his tongue, grunting between lick as you were finally showing signs of turning.

“ah, ah…”

when he reached the giant bed, he turned and sat down on it, his back leaning against the headboard with a soft thud. he kept you on his lap, your knees straddling his hips, your soaked cunt hovering just above his twitching, dripping cock. his hands were instantly on your body tugging away at the dress, removing it from your body and letting your scale-splotched skin to bask in the full moon.

his sharp digits took a hold of your full hips, nails digging into the soft flesh as he tried to lower your body onto his.

“please, baby.” he breathed, his hips rolling upwards on instinct, his bare cock sliding against your wet slit. “i need to feel you around me– please, i fuck–”

you reached around, your hand finding the nightstand and its drawer, your fingers closing around a square packet. as you were retrieving it, his hands worked all over you, groping your waist, your tits, your thighs with a restless, ravenous need. his cock was jumping against your thigh with each squish of your body, impatient to ease into you.

“let m–me help.” he whispered as he saw you struggle. but you shook your head, at last ripping the packet open with your fangs.

the image made him groan — he loved when you used those fangs.

he wished you’d use them on him.

as you rolled the condom down his length with steady hand, your palm gliding over the latex as you smoothed it down the veiny cock, he gasped, his head throwing back against the headboard, his hips pushing up into your fist.

“fuck– baby, your hand, it’s ngh– so good­, i’m gonna–” his words devolved into a strangled moan as you gave him a last, twisting stroke at the base, and he had to clench his jaw to keep from cumming right then.

his gills fluttered rapidly, and his hands clawed at the sheets, his white-knuckled grip the only thing keeping him grounded.

you left him hanging on the edge for a sweet moment, your eyes locked on his trembling stomach and the way his scales shimmered harder. then, with a slow movement, you raised yourself up on your knees, aligned the tip of his cock with your soaked entrance, and slowly began to sink down.

the sensation was electric. his length slid inside you in a smooth, velvety thrust, the latex making it easy but no less intense. you felt him stretch you, push past your greedy muscles that spasmed around him, and you gasped at the fullness. he moaned your name, vibrating against your chest as he pressed his forehead into your shoulder.

“so fucking tight– so wet–.”

“ah, raf, that’s mhm–”

you took a moment to adjust, to feel him settle deep inside you, to take in the way his tip was kissing your cervix. then you began to move — slow rolls of your hips, lifting and sinking, pulling him out until only the tip remained, then sliding back down to the hilt. your clit slapped deliciously against his muscles, and so did his heavy balls against your behind.

his hands flew to your hips again, guiding you, but he never tried to take control; he merely held you, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin of your hips with reverence.

“yes, that’s ngh– it, use me.” he implored, his voice breaking into high whinse as you picked up the pace. you rolled your hips in a figure eight, harshly grinding against him at the bottom, and his lips parted on a silent scream. “oh, oh fuck, right there, please, baby–”

you leaned forward, lips bitten, your palms braced against his chest, and you rode him with a ferocious need. every stroke was accompanied by his gasps, the sharp, slutty breaths strung together with your own traitorous ones into a rhythmic chant.

“so good, so good, i’m– please, please, let me cum inside, i beg you–”

his words were slurred, mind so thick with lust he forgot he had a condom on. but he was attentive to you, never taking his eyes off your bouncing body. when you sped up, your thighs burning with the effort, your clit brushing against his pubic bone with every downward thrust, his head lolled to the side in pleasure.

the sensation was heaven for you too: the way his cock hit that sweet spot inside you, vein pulsing just the right way against your walls, the way his hands trembled as they held you, the way his moans sounded like prayers…

“cum for me.” you allowed, your voice raspy and commanding, and that was all he needed.

with a broken whine, he threw his head back, his spine arching off the headboard as he spilled into the condom, his hips jerking up into you with ragged, uncontrollable spasms. his mouth opened in a silent shout and his hands clawed so hard into your hips you knew they would leave bruises.

the sight of him cumming, his face stretched in ecstasy, pushed you over the edge. you rode him through it all, your second climax building and building until it broke. your inner muscles clenching around him as you shuddered through your release.

he whimpered into the air like a mantra: “thank you, thank you, thank you–”.

after a few more seconds, you finally slowed down. with your gills working overtime, your body washed in sparkling sweat, you remained motionless, straddled over him. his aching cock was still inside you, spent once more that night.

but ebb day had just commenced, and a mere fuck was not the solution.

you were still trembling, his overstimulated cock still twitching inside you, when he shifted his hips upwards — a lazy, circular rock which sent a sharp spark through your oversensitive flesh. you whimpered, a needy tune that you hadn’t intended to let out; the sudden trust took you by surprise, hitting your walls in a way that made your whole being shiver.

he did it again, this time with a sharper thrust, his strong hands pushing you down into his cock, and your palms flattened against his chest in a vain attempt to put some distance between the two of you.

“raf– wait, slow d–ah–own a bit.” you gasped, your voice cracking, the overstimulation short circuiting your brain. “i need a second–”

his laugh was low and mean, a strong contrast to the high-pitched moans he freely let out a few minutes ago.

“slow down? why? you’re still aching for more.” his hands slid down your sides, gripping your thighs with a brutal firmness. his expression was no longer kind and pliant, the barely-there purple of his orbs changing into a blinding sapphire color.

he tutted at your scrunching face, digging his fingers harder into your skin and dragging you forth against his chest. “no, no, baby. i don’t like that.”

“raf?”

“you’re not gonna fight what you are. you’re a lemurian in heat, just like me… giving in is not a choice.”

before you could respond, he twisted out of you with a squelching, wet pop and shoved you forward onto the sheets. you tumbled onto the mattress, hands and knees catching you as he positioned you around like a puppet. his palm pressed the small of your back, forcing your spine into a beautiful arch, your face pressed into the pillows.

it happened in a blink of an eye, your body going pliant and obeying the desires of the man behind you. you could no longer see him, with your head buried in his cushions, but you could hear the shift of his weight as he knelt behind you, the heat of his body washing over your exposed skin.

shit, he was taking a dominant stance now — the predator inside him most likely no longer pleased by your ‘controlled’ approach to ebb day.

but you had to stay strong. you had to stop him from fulfilling the mating ritual since you were not his beloved. you had to–

“look at you.” he purred, his voice dripping with condescension, blue eyes taking in the sight before him: you, face down, ass up, supple flesh drenched and quivering with arousal. “so fucking wet… and you still have the nerve to tell me to slow down. pathetic.”

his fingers traced down your curved spine, pausing at the swell of your ass. then down to your used hole. with delicate fingers, he touched the gaping rim of the condom still lodged inside you, dragging it slightly out of you. you flinched, back arching even more, hips pushing into his touch unconsciously.

“a condom too… ruining all the fun.” he clicked his tongue, low and mean, but chose to abandon the rubber for now. he decided to reach around to find your clit, his skilled thumb pressing against it with just enough pressure to make you tremble into the sheets.

“you think you’re in charge, hm? you’re nothing but a slutty little whore who needs to be reminded of her place.”

he circled his thumb over your swollen bud, slow and torturous, while his other hand kept you pinned down. you whined, your hips pushing back instinctively, seeking more friction, but he was having none of it: he smacked your ass hard, the sharp slap echoing in the room as it landed on your flesh.

“don’t you dare act on your urges now. you’ll get what i give you, when i give it.” he warned as he increased the pressure on your clit, his movements forming teasing figure eights. you writhed against the sheets, tried to push back and speed him up, but his hand on your spine kept you arched and immobile.

“p–please.” you whined, your voice pitching high, now mirroring the state he was previously in— flushed face, dilated pupils, consumed by the urge to be used. “raf, i need–”

“you need to shut up and take what’s given.” he cut you off, his tone cold and superior. he removed his thumb without warning, and you whimpered in loss, eyes bubbling with tears from his cruelness. “see? that’s what you get for being impatient. now be a good girl and wait.”

wait?

for what?

he reached down, fingers curling around the rim of the condom still inside you. with a slow, torturous pull, he removed it. the sensation of the latex sliding out making you shiver, hole gaping in dissatisfaction. your cunt was practically begging for the rubber to return, for something to be inside it once more.

“greedy pussy.”

he pinched the tip of the condom, dangling it above your stinging flesh, and, with his thumb and index finger, he pressed and dragged out... letting the thick, white semen spill all across your ass. throwing the empty rubber away, he then smeared his cum over your cheeks with a rough, possessive stroke, making sure to dip his fingers over your asshole and the perineum.

the warm, sticky sensation made you cry out, and he laughed again.

“you like that, don’t you? being marked with my cum?” he rubbed the cum lower, into your slit, working it into your wet folds until you were dripping with a mixture of your arousal and his seed. “you were so dumb for putting on the condom.”

and with that vitriolic remark, he positioned himself behind you once more, the mushroom head of his engorged cock prodding at your slutty entrance. he rubbed it up and down, teasing the flesh without pushing in, controlling his urge to breed you for the sake of hearing you beg.

and you began to sob, pleas leaving your bitten lips with ease.

“p–please, raf, just fuck me, i need it so bad, please–”

“aww, look at you now — beg harder.” he purred, his tip still tracing slow circles over your hungry hole.

“please! please, rafayel, i beg you, just put it in, i’ll be good, just fuck me–”

“there it is.” he smirked, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “but oh, i’m sorry, baby– i think we’re out of condoms. what a shame.” his tone was condescending, and he rolled his hips just enough to press the head inside.

before pulling back. “i can’t–”

“i don’t care.” you babbled, your mind now a blur of heat and hunger. your previous carefulness was entirely wiped by your animalistic desire to be mounted and taken by rafayel. “j–just do it, fuck me raw! i need your ugh– cock inside me, please, raf–”

“finally.”

without other comments, he thrusted in one sharp, brutal motion. you screamed, but not in pain — the overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled without any barrier felt heavenly. his hard cock, littered with scales, plowed into your soaked cunt until his hips smacked against your ass, his balls swaying against your swollen clit.

“yes.” he groaned, his voice now raspy with his own need. “this is where you belong: spread open for me, taking my cock like the cockslut that you are.” he pulled out slowly, then slammed back in, the squelch of your juices and his cum making a loud, obscene sound.

“fuck, you’re so warm, so wet, so fucking good.”

he set a ferocious pace, his hips jutting into you with the starved intensity of an animal in rut. each thrust hit that spot inside you, making your spine curve into him more and more. and you were kept in that deep arch by his strong arms, your voice reduced to a stream of moans and whines as it got drowned out by the pillows.

“ngh– baby, your pussy is squeezing me so tight.” he grunted, his hand snaking forward to grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head back. “greedy girl, sucking me ah–  so hard.”

“tell me you’re mine. tell me this is what you wanted.”

“‘m y’rs.” you gasped, the words tumbling out in stutters as you squeezed around his rugged scales. “gods, yes, fuck me harder, please–”

he released your hair with a satisfied moan and doubled his efforts, his strokes becoming messy and unhinged. he was so deep inside you that you could feel his cock throbbing against your walls, the tip kissing your cervix with every slam. his length seemed to grow inside you, expanding and stretching your sensitive walls in all dimensions.

you were completely affected by ebb day now, your pleasure so strong you could no longer separate where your being ended and his began.

but the night has just begun, and so did rafayel.

you felt it before you saw it: a second pressure, a new sensation against the flesh of your ass. another cock, thicker and more brutal in its proportions, had emerged from the base of his first and sprung upwards, settling directly between the sweaty valley of your cheeks.

it was a monstrous thing, wet with its own pre-cum, rocking against your asshole in tune with his other cock.

“is that– ugh–”

with every slam of his hips into your soaked cunt, this second cock rubbed relentlessly against your tight, untouched asshole. the friction was addicting, a blunt force that glided over the twitching rim of your second hole with every forward push.

you could feel the ridges of it, the scales that dragged across your delicate skin, and it made your eyes roll back from the pleasure.

“you feel that, baby?” he grunted into your ear, his voice a condescending purr. “my other cock, itching to breed that pussy too. you’re so fucking soaked, i am sure it will ngh– slip right in.”

you couldn’t respond. you were beyond speech, your face buried in the sheets, your voice reduced to a high, siren-like whine that filled the room.

the way his second cock humped against your asshole, the way his first cock was still plunging into your cunt — it was a sensory overload that threatened to spill all over. you clenched around him, trying to drag him deeper, and he groaned, leaning over your arched body.

“can’t even fuckin’ answer me.” he snarled, his pace slowing for a moment as he leaned down, lowering his sweaty chest against your back.

his sharp mouth found the juncture of your neck and shoulder, your pulse point, and he opened his jaw wide. his fangs grazed your flesh, a heated, demanding pressure falling over your skin.

he was…

“you want this so badly, don’t you? you want me to claim every hole.”

going to bite. he was going to mark you as his mate.

panic lashed through the fog of your lust. you were not lovers: you had agreed to this arrangement solely to protect his future beloved from the primality of the lemurian heat. so your arm shot up before you could think it over, your forearm wedging itself between his lips and your neck just as his jaws clamped down.

“ah.”

his fangs sink into your flesh with a wet, ripping sound. the pain was sharp and immediate, a burning sensation that made you scream into the pillows. you felt the hot trickle of blood cascade down your arm, and he let out a surprised, muffled groan around your limb.

his cock slid out of you during the chaos, leaving you suddenly empty and weak.

“n–no!” you cried, your voice a shaky mess of pleasure and desperation. “not that! rafayel, we aren’t– we’re not lovers! you can’t mark me like this. you have to save yourself for your chosen one, you know that.”

he froze — he stayed still, his fangs still embedded in your forearm, his breath hot against the wound. then, slowly, he released you. his jaw unclamped, and he licked the blood from his lips with a slow, seductive swipe of his tongue. but his eyes had changed. the lust was still there, but now it was underlaid with something far more dangerous: a cold, rageful possessiveness.

“you dare...” he said, his voice dropping to a level of condescending fury that made you shiver. “you dare tell me who to save myself for? you dare speak of a ‘chosen one’ when you’re the only one who has ever made me feel this?”

before you could respond, he moved with unnatural speed. his hands gripped your hips and with a brutal twist, he flipped you over like you were no more than a rag doll. you landed on your back, the sheets cold and damp against your sweaty skin. he was on top of you in an instant, his legs knocking yours apart as he settled his weight between your thighs.

his first cock pressed against your soaked entrance, and his second one rested heavily against your clit, both of them drenched in bodily fluids.

“you foolish woman.” he snarled, leaning down so his face was inches from yours. his eyes were gleaming blue, his scales catching the light like the facets of a gem. “there is no other chosen one. there is only you. you’re the one i want. you’re the one my body and my soul demands.”

“r–raf?”

“and i will not be denied.”

he thrusted forward, sheathing his bottom cock inside you in one single, devastating move. you were so wet, so inviting; there was no resistance, only a lewd, obscene squelch as your fluids started to froth at the juncture between your bodies.

you whined out a broken approval, and he groaned in triumph above you.

“that’s right.” he confirmed, rolling his hips harder and harder to pick up his previous pace. “your body knows the truth, even if your mouth lies. you’re mine.” he began to pump into you, his strokes sharp and possessive as he, once more, descended closer to your face.

“you can beg all you want for a different fate, but you will never escape this. you will never escape me.”

and with that, he sealed his lips over yours.

your hands clawed at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he pounded you into the mattress. your legs wrapped around his waist, pushing him deeper, traitorously consenting to his declaration even as your mind spun with lust. he leaned forward more and more, trapping you under his massive frame, and he kissed you brutally, tangling his long tongue with your and forcing you to taste your own blood.

“say it out loud.” he demanded against your mouth, his pace never faltering, his mouth carefully traversing lower to your pulse point again. “say you’re mine. say it and i will fully take you, my mate.”

“i’m yours!” you wailed, the words torn from your very soul as his fangs scratched your skin in warning. “i’m yours, rafayel! please, just don’t stop, don’t you dare stop–”

a prideful, predatory grin spread across his features. he slowed his pace as his jaw opened once more, trying to time his movements to offer you the most intense pleasure. pulling out almost all the way, his tip snagging onto your hole, he stuck out his tongue to wet your skin as his hand lowered to his cocks… pressing his second length snug to his other and preparing it for penetration.

“ngh– raf– ah–”

as he plunged his fangs into your neck, finally marking you as his mate by drawing blood, he also rutted both cocks into your hungry cunt. the immense quantities of arousal lubed everything, allowing his two dicks to press deep into your without much difficulty.

and his timing was perfect, getting you to orgasm with a perfect o on your lips as he rocked your whole world.

“that’s right.” he purred, moving his head to nuzzle at the bloody bite on your skin, licking the wound with soft strokes of his tongue. “you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.”

and as he spoke, he picked up his pace once more, the slap of his balls against your skin filling the room, his resolve renewed. you were cushioned beneath him, a trembling mess, a willing partner to desire, and as he watched you fall apart beneath him — your eyes rolling back, your moans a constant chant — he too was pushed over the edge once more.

unlike last time, his thrusts stumbled into a rhythm that was clumsy but deep, as if he refusing to let go of you. unlike last time, you felt a swelling at your entrance, the way his top cock, the one that had been pressing against your clit moments ago, now grew in thickness.

the sensation was overwhelming. your walls were stretched further, and you could feel his cocks throbbing deep inside, ready to spill.

“breed.” he groaned against your neck, lips bloody, voice raspy. “let me fill you. let me breed your sweet cunt.”

and he did.

his top cock began to inflate at the base, the tissue swelling into a something that locked him deep within you. you whimpered in pleasure as the first shiny, pearl-white ovoid passed through his urethra and into your hole —a smooth, rounded glob that stretched you to the fullest before it settled inside you.

then another, and another, and another. each one leaving a trail of warmth as it popped through his cock and deposited itself in deep inside you. his hands stopped flat against your stomach, to keep you from moving away, and he felt the bulge begin to rise.

the eggs were gathering together with his thick cum.

“yes, yes.” he murmured, his tone a mix of wonder and satisfaction, eyes glassy with lust. “so many eggs already. and there’s more for you.”

he kept pumping, each thrust squeezing another round egg into you, and with it came wave upon wave of thick, pearlescent cum that filled every remaining crevice. your tummy bulged more and more, the skin stretching tight until you could feel the weight of his eggs sinking low inside you. you were so full that you couldn’t tell what was cum and what was ovoid; you only knew that he was still pumping, still depositing, still claiming.

“r–rafayel, i w–will ugh– i can’t hold– nngh!”

your protests were swallowed by another orgasm as he rutted his final drops into you, the bottom cock twitching inside you as it added its own thick semen to the swelling pool. your tummy was now a pronounced curve, the skin taut and shiny, and you could feel each individual egg pressing against the walls of your tummy.

“yes.”

finally, he stilled, his body shaking with the last spasms of release. he remained inside you for a long moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged and hot against your sweaty skin. then, with a small whine, he pulled out: first the bottom cock, then the top one, releasing the lock on your pussy. you felt a gush of warm cream follow him, and when you looked down, you saw the mess he had made of you.

your pussy was ruined, swollen, hole gaping as thick, white cum started to drool out in hefty treads, pooling on the sheets beneath you.

he moved down your body, his hands sliding over your blooming skin until they rested on your swollen belly. he pressed gently, and you felt the first egg pop out with an obscene sound. the smooth, pearly ovoid rolled out onto the sheet, shining with your combined juices. then another, and another, each one escaping as he pressed firmer, each one making you whine from overstimulation.

your tummy slowly deflated, but not all the eggs were out yet — you could still feel a few resting high inside, near your cervix.

“shh, i’ve got you.” he said, his voice suddenly soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the brutality from moments ago. he shifted his hand from your belly to your swollen clit, his fingers gliding through the wetness with good intent.

“you’re doing so well, baby. let me help the rest out.”

he began to rub circles around your hyper-sensitive bud, while his other hand pressed firmly on the top part of your pelvis. the overstimulation made you sob out, but his sweet expression (his soft, purple orbs, the blush on his face, the cute smile on his lips) kept you grounded.

“that’s it, sweet girl, let them out. you’re so brave for taking all of that. now just one more– yes, there it is.”

with a particularly deep press of his palm and a swirl of his thumb, the last egg got out with a sultry plop, rolling to join its siblings on the sheet. your body shuddered violently, another spasm of climax racing through you, but he never stopped the gentle ministrations of his hand.

he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your belly, his lips tracing your skin as you orgasm again into his palm.

“such a good girl.” he whispered against your skin, his tone full of adoration and gratitude. “you took everything so perfectly, my partner.” he lifted his head to look into your hazy eyes, and there was nothing but contentment in his gaze. “let’s rest for a bit.”

at last, he removed himself from between your legs, allowing you a moment of respite as he lounged next to you on the bed. cradling your spent form into a delicate side embrace, he guided your head onto his chest, petting your wet hair away from your face.

“my sweet baby.”

©pearlescenthoney 2026. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

Now, everyone on the planet knew that Bruce Wayne was an attractive man; he had insane chemistry with nearly everyone he came across and managed to have his name and picture splashed across the front page of all newspapers due to his power and prestige. But what the papers neglected to inform its readers was that he was an absolute babe.

While Damian had inherited his emerald eyes, tan skin, and lean frame from his mother, he still bore an uncanny resemblance to his father with their raven hair, regal features, and the fullness of their mouths. He had been rather blessed in the genes department, much to your envy and elation.

The first time you met Mr. Wayne, was during the family dinner Damian brought you to after your fifth date. He had been absolutely charming and had your cheeks pink with schoolgirl shyness. It had been embarrassing.

Fortunately, you had gradually become used to his charisma after spending so much time with the family and it was easier to ignore the harmless crush you harbored towards him. Until now...

"Who's up for a round of sand volleyball?" Dick offered after having polished off his eighth slice of watermelon

"Only if I don't have to team up with you again," Jason grumbled, standing from his chair to stretch his limbs.

Damian had brought you along to his family vacation on their private island off the coast of Hawaii, feeding you all kinds of exotic foods, ravishing you in your private cabana, and relaxing with you on the beach where worries and stress held no power.

Currently, he was laying beside you, stretched out on his stomach on his beach towel, cheek resting on his forearm as he napped. You were sitting under an umbrella with a book open on your lap and a half-eaten plate of fruits beside you.

Tim had offered to grab the net and then came back, helping his two brothers to set it up as they all fought over who would pair up with who.

Mr. Wayne stood from his own chair and looked at you. "Would you like to join us? I'll make the boys promise to control their rough-housing."

You shook your head good-naturedly. "I should probably stay and watch over Damian so he doesn't burn."

Mr. Wayne chuckled, working his shirt off and-

Wowza!

You didn't know forty-year-old men could have abs like that!

A blush spread across your cheeks as he lathered sunscreen all over his toned torso and muscled arms, the display making you feel light-headed despite it's basic purpose.

You were so focused on keeping your thoughts PG that you didn't realize he had asked you another question until you saw the furrow in his brow and heard the distant call of your names.

You shook your head and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I think I'm thirsty-" Your eyes winded at the unintended innuendo. "I-it's just so hot out here!" Oh brother. You were just digging yourself further into a hole.

Oblivious to your mental chastising, Mr. Wayne grabbed a water bottle from a cooler nearby and handed it to you. "Drink up some. Damian would have our heads if we let his little girlfriend get heat stroke."

And with that, he was off to join his other sons on the makeshift court.

You stared after him, oh so confused and guilty for having ogled at your boyfriend's dad. You were the worst person alive.

You attempted to busy yourself by massaging sunscreen into Damian's sun-warmed skin as he slumbered, not wanting him to burn. This was the only man you were supposed to ogle. And you did. Frequently.

While he was more slender than his father, Damian had what people liked to call 'sleeper build'. You couldn't tell so much when he wore clothing but as soon as it all came off, you could make out the distinct definition of his muscles. Even now you could see a whisper of his strength as he rolled his shoulder blades back as he started waking up.

He blinked his eyes open and smiled softly at you. "Beloved,"

You finished rubbing sunscreen into the nape of his neck and kiss his forehead. "How'd you sleep, Dami?"

He shrugged. "One can hardly sleep well with three obnoxious idiots nearby."

He referred to his brothers, obviously.

"They're all playing sand volleyball if you wanted to join them?"

"Not at all." He sat up and stretched his arms above his head, biceps bulging and causing you to bite your bottom lip. "How much water have you had?"

You held up your half-full bottle. "Your dad gave me one a few minutes ago. Said you would beat them all if they let me dry up."

He put a hand on your knee, thumb brushing the inside of your thigh. "I would."

You looked down at his skin on yours and found yourself wishing you were locked away in your cabana where he could take apart your bikini and kiss all of the skin that had been hidden from the sun and...

"That is disturbing," your boyfriend muttered under his breath, attention fixed on his family who were conferring with their prospective teammates as they started another round.

"What?"

"My father believes he still has the virility of a younger man. He shouldn't be taking his shirt off in front of my girlfriend." He shook his head in disgust.

You chuckled. "He's at the beach on vacation."

"Still." He looked at you and searched your features. "It doesn't unsettle you, does it? Seeing old men in a state of undress? I can make him-"

"No, no! He's fine." You were quick to say.

Maybe too quick.

Damian's eyes narrowed at your rejection and he slowly asked, "You're hiding something from me."

Yeah, the fact that you find his dad insanely attractive and can hardly look at the man without your face bursting into flames.

"I'm not." You lied.

"You are." His hand trailed up your thigh and the side of your stomach until he held your rib-cage. Your heart stuttered at his possessive touch. "Beloved...I could never be mad at you. You know this."

You shook your head adamantly. Perhaps he wouldn't be mad but most definitely grossed out. "It's nothing, Dami. Seriously. Do you want some fruit?"

Your attempt at throwing him off your trail was futile. Damian was nothing if not persistent. In fact, it was one of the most admirable traits about him.

"Talk to me." He urged and, for a man who disliked any form of public displays of affection, he pressed kisses to your neck. "Please, beloved."

Curse him. Your hands flew to his strong shoulders, unable to resist his intimate ministrations as he flicked his tongue at your sensitive pulse. "It's so silly, you'll think me foolish."

His hair tickled under your chin. "My girl is anything but foolish. She is the smartest, kindest, most beautiful-"

"I think your dad is a hottie."

He paused with his lips on your collarbone and you felt yourself stop breathing in fear of his reaction.

"Y-you know how people have crushes on their history teachers or firefighters?" you reasoned nervously. "It's like that! I don't think he's hotter than you, of course. No one could ever compare to you, believe me. But he is your father so that should compensate for something and-and you probably hate me and-"

Damian pressed his finger to your lips to shut you up and you swallowed. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before saying quietly, "You think Bruce is hot?"

You nod dumbly.

He shook his head in disappointment. "He's an old man. How would he inspire any sort of interest in a sensible girl such as you?"

Oh Damian, your sweet summer child. He was obviously ignorant to the sexual appeal his father held over nearly everyone. Hell, even men liked the billionaire. The past rumors of his 'affair' with Metropolis' Clark Kent could only attest to that.

You scrubbed a hand over your face. "Do you know how many men are that fit over the age of thirty?"

"No."

"That's because there are only like five in the entire world and your dad is one of them. Not to mention he could bewitch a cockroach with just one look."

He scoffed.

You pulled him to you and hugged him tightly. "You'll always be my number one though, baby. You know that, right?"

He grunted against your shoulder but didn't pull away, a good sign.

He let you shower his face with kisses then pulled back and sighed. "I should probably defeat them all, shouldn't I?"

You rolled your eyes in amusement. "If that would make you feel better, then go ahead."

He stood to his full height, casting a shadow over you and then headed off to his family where Tim had just spiked the ball onto the opposite side of the net. Damian spoke to them for a while, no doubt negotiating terms and inserting himself.

They all jeered and mocked him but came to an agreement and then a new match began. Surprise, surprise, with Damian choosing the team opposing Mr. Wayne.

You watched as Damian would shove in front Dick and Tim and, more than once, strike the ball off his father's head.

"Y/n!" Jason called, a hand held to his forehead to block the sun. "Tell Damian he needs to play nice!"

The volleyball smacked into his shoulder in response and you chuckled.

By Damian's fifth win, everyone cried off, complaining about needing to cool off in the water or getting hungry. Damian came back to you with a touch of a smug smile on his lips, a sure sign that he was proud of himself.

"You are such a jerk." You chastised.

"I do not share, beloved. Not even your attention." He put out a hand to you and you took it, letting his long fingers intertwine with yours.

"I never knew you could be so jealous," you replied dryly, letting him lead you away from his family and towards the cabanas.

"Will you two be joining us for dinner?" Mr. Wayne called behind you.

Damian's lip curled in annoyance. He was still brooding over your earlier declaration, it would seem. So you looked over your shoulder and smiled politely. "Not tonight, but thanks!"

You figured you would be spending the rest of the day tucked away in the bedroom with your boyfriend in order to...apologize.

"In my defense," you said once you were out of earshot, "most men his age have pot bellies and flabby skin and-"

You squealed as Damian hoisted you up over is shoulder, effectively shutting you up.

It was going to be a long night indeed.

“Why are you jealous of a random person?” you questioned with a chuckle. “Especially when I've never dated before you.”

“Then who is he?” Valko said while pointing at the tall man, a frown etched onto his lips. “He looks…close.”

You leaned in for a closer look before giggling.

You never giggled with him, but you giggle for the boy with galaxy eyes?

“That, my sweet wolf, is my friend’s adopted older brother.”

Valko’s tail stops swaying, flat against the floor as his nose scrunches.

“Brother?”

“Yes. The one currently very, very smitten with someone right now.”

“...you look closer than most people are.”

“We get that alot,” you offered with a shrug. “But the only reason he is in these photos is because he visited me to get infor so often and a lot of people at my school went gaga over him. He was a popular guy. I was in class with his sister and he sort of recruited me to watch over her.”

A fond smile formed on your lips as you pointed to the girl on the other side of him, her arm laced with his. Subtle but not so much when pointed out. “And we only got kinda close because I punched him in the face and nearly broke his nose.”

Valko perked at that information. “Really?”

“Mmhm,” you admitted. “He and I didn’t get off on the best foot. He was very overprotective of his sister and so there was a bit of a misunderstanding when he found me and her alone and she was in tears. He never put his hands on me,” you quickly added, seeing Valko go on high alert. “But he had some sharp words that had me acting before I could think. I cursed him out and told my friend to keep him away from me and well…let’s say the apology was a sweet deal for me and I became a part time body guard.”

Valko couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips. “Only you would have such a backstory like that and decide to become a medic instead.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “How else will I get away with assault if I don’t fix them before they can report?”

This earned a laugh from the man, his shoulders falling as he rested a cheek against your shoulder.

“So I don’t need to worry about tall, dark, and handsome over here?”

“No,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Hell no.”

“Good…” Valko murmured, pressing his nose to your neck and nuzzling you as he often did nowadays. Giving him permission to scent you whenever he wanted really had been like Pandora's box, but you found your touch-starved self relishing in the attention. You, who hated being perceived and preferred to blend into the background had found someone who refused to allow you to disappear.

It was…nice.

Different.

It made you greedier than you’d ever admit.

Valko turned the page, eyes skimming passed the man at your side only to pause when he saw a photo of your graduation day where a different man had his arm wrapped around you while you shoved one finger into his cheek and made a peace sign with your other hand.

He grinned, eyes flashing in a playful manner.

“Another brother of your friend?”

You scanned the page.

“Nope! Just a friend of hers. He’s my current mentor at the hospital. One of the youngest doctors ever.”

Valko nodded, slightly impressed despite being one of the youngest shareholders of a big company and having plenty achievements that would make others gawked and fall over themselves.

"Impressive."

“He was also my first kiss.”

Valko nearly dropped the yearbook as his tail bushed up.

“What?”

The first time it happened was after you returned from the UNICORNS headquarters, where you'd been talking to a coworker—a man in his thirties who had stood just a little too close to you (at least in Valko's opinion) and lightly brushed your shoulder as you left the office. You hadn't thought anything of it.

But the moment you stepped through the front door and saw Valko waiting for you on the couch, you noticed him freeze. His nostrils flared ever so slightly as he sampled the air.

He stood and walked over to you. His eyes darkened just a shade as they settled on your shoulder, where the faint trace of another man's cologne still lingered.

"...You were with someone. —, there was no accusation in his voice, only quiet caution —, "Your shoulder... someone else's scent."

You smiled, thinking he was joking, ready to wave it off, but he had already stepped closer.

His hand rested gently on your shoulder before pulling you toward him. He buried his nose against the exact spot where the foreign scent remained. A slow inhale.. His breathing deepened.

His nose brushed softly across your skin, leaving behind the faintest warmth of his breath, and only then did his tail—which had been perfectly still until now—begin wagging lazily behind him, as though he'd finally approved of something.

"There." —, he finally leaned back with a proud, boyish grin —, "Now you smell like me, much better."

You laughed, but Valko only shook his head, completely serious despite the amusement dancing in his eyes. His tail slipped around your waist, gently pulling you closer.

"I'm not joking..It's instinct: I want everyone to know you're mine.. Even complete strangers."

Another time, you came home after spending the evening with friends. One of your girl-friends had hugged you goodbye, and the soft floral scent of her perfume still clung to your jacket. You'd completely forgotten about it.

Valko hadn't.

He was waiting for you on the porch, and the moment you stepped closer, his ears twitched. Then he frowned. He leaned in, sniffed your jacket, and his tail immediately stilled.

"...Someone hugged you." —, there was a hint of jealousy in his voice this time —, "A woman, she smells like flowers."

You couldn't help but smile.

"It was Tara. She was just happy I came to the party."

Valko was quiet for a moment, seemingly processing that information. Then, without another word, he carefully slipped your jacket off your shoulders and draped it over the back of a nearby chair.

When he turned back to you, he stepped close enough that there wasn't even an inch of space left between your bodies.

His arms slid around your waist. His nose brushed against the side of your neck.

Slowly... Deliberately...

He nuzzled along the line of your hair, breathing you in while leaving behind his own scent—fresh pine, cool rain, and that unmistakable hint of steel that always reminded you of him.

"There." —, his lips curved into a soft smile against your skin —, "I've covered her scent, now you smell like me again."

He hesitated for a second before asking in an unexpectedly quiet voice:

"You don't mind... do you?"

His tail curled around your leg, giving the gentlest squeeze, as though silently asking for reassurance.

You reached up and gently scratched behind one of his ears.

"Not at all, my little wolf."

The way his ears perked up was so immediate it almost made you laugh. His tail began wagging again before he could stop it.

"...Good."

He tried to sound composed. He failed miserably, because the smile stretching across his face looked far too happy.

The funniest incident happened after Valko saw one of the Hunters hand you a book. The young man had only brushed your fingertips by accident as he passed it to you. You hadn't even given it a second thought.

Valko clearly had.

By the time you came home, he was already waiting by the front door with his arms crossed, wearing the kind of expression that made him look like he was about to interrogate a criminal.

"You touched another man." —, his voice carried a note of wounded pride, barely disguised beneath an attempt at sounding casual.

You couldn't help but laugh: "He handed me a book, Valko. That's all."

He didn't answer. Instead, he quietly stepped toward you. Then—despite the obvious inconvenience for someone of his height—he lowered himself onto one knee in front of you.

He gently took your hand into both of his. Carefully. Almost reverently. Bringing it closer to his face, he inhaled softly. His brows knitted together as though he were trying to identify an unfamiliar scent.

"...He's still here." —, his ears drooped ever so slightly —, "I can smell him."

His tail gave one slow, unhappy flick behind him.

"But not for long."

Without another word, he pressed the bridge of his nose against your palm. Slowly, patiently, he traced every inch of your skin.

Across your palm. Over each finger. Along your knuckles. Down to your wrist.

Methodically replacing the lingering scent with his own. You could feel the warmth of every breath brushing against your skin. Every gentle nudge of his nose. Every quiet inhale.

His ears twitched in concentration, as though this was an incredibly important task that demanded his full attention.

"There."

After several long moments, Valko finally leaned back to admire his work.. A satisfied smile spread across his face.

"Perfect. Now your hand only smells like me."

He paused. Then his golden eyes narrowed just enough to betray another flicker of jealousy.

"And if anyone else thinks they can touch you again..." —, He stopped himself —, "...Well. You know."

He never finished the sentence. He didn't need to.

The way his tail puffed up before starting to wag again was enough to make you burst into laughter.

A second later, all of that mock seriousness disappeared. He rested his cheek against your palm with a content little sigh.

Almost as if he couldn't resist leaving behind one final trace of himself.

Just to be sure.

In moments like these, you realized that, for Valko, scent-marking was never just an instinct.

It was his way of saying "I love you" without words, without needing to explain himself. It was his way of staying close to you, of becoming a part of you, and of reminding himself that you were his.

He can smell your juices, see the darkening of your panties when his pretty eyes flicker to your cunt. Pushing your thighs further, you drop the phone.

"Ah-ah," he bites your other thigh. Your hands come to tug on his fluffy ears, making his tail twitch side to side. Cock leaking. "Tell him you're busy."

"Fuck, okay," your shaky hand picks up the phone, your eyes getting lidded when his nose brushes your pretty pussy over those panties, you suck in a breath at it, fingers faltering. "mngh..."

"Tell him," he says in a soft little hum, inhaling you again, palming his cock to adjust it, feeling it swelling with how badly he wants to devour you. "If you wanna cum, you will."

"Fuck you're a brat," you mumble as he tugs you closer, shoving your knee up over his shoulder, nose inhaling your cunt again. "Are you gonna just sniff me !?"

"Till you answer," he sighs. "I could do this and cum."

"Freaky wolf, ah!" He bites your inner thigh, your juices just slippin' down further, in rivulets against his face, his glasses fogged up with his breaths. "F-fine."

Sorry Caleb - I'm busy tonight.

You show him the screen, and he smirks, a curve of his lips.

"Good girl."

Fuck.

Valko tugs your panties aside, looking at the mess your cunt is and moaning at the sight, tongue hot as it laps you from your ass to your clit, then back down, not just tasting - he's fucking lavishing you, spit soaked tongue dragging through your folds. "V-Valko I..."

"Good, good, good... good girl you're s-so... good," he's gripping you bruisingly now, slurping your messy, needy hole, the juices just pouring - his adam's apple bobs as he gulps you down, his glasses just slightly askew from the way he's drinking you. "Taste s'good... fuck..."

He could almost cum from the taste alone, greedily dragging his tongue from your slutty, quivering hole to that twitchy clit, all while you're gripping his hair with one hand, the other rubbing his ears. It feels so good as he lets you coat his taste buds, watching your eyes roll back in your skull.

You shatter so fast, but he's not even trying to make you cum - he just needs your taste, he needs your scent, biting your clit before he can stop himself, the action having you squirt right down him, all over his sweater and his collar. He laughs softly as you whine out, arching your hips, thighs quivering.

"Please... in me, mngh..." You see his slick face and blush, the dark mess you made on his sweater apparent as he takes it off, standing, his cock leaking through his sweats.

You go to touch him but you don't get a moment, he's got you turned and bent over the living room table, that sweater of yours gripped in his huge hands, claws ruining the material without him meaning to. He spits right on your cunt just to make it even messier, it's so wet she doesn't even need it, laughing as you arch, thighs shaking.

The phone goes off.

Valko hums a bit, looking at the message.

"Aww... he misses his 'pips'. Cute," Valko laughs, lost now - he's not the goofy little jerk you're used to, not when he's lining his reddened tip with your hole - no, he's feral. "Should we show him how you're doin'? Hmm, sweetheart?"

"N-no, psycho," you're wetter at the idea, and he notices, rubbing his tip up and down your slit, torturing you as you arch, begging for more. "In me, in me... in - ah!"

Valko slides his veiny, thick cock deep, his tail wrapping around his body and tickling you as he groans, head falling forward, that heavy weight pressing you down. He's as big there as he is everywhere, his grin against your skin felt before he bites your neck, shoving in fully.

"S'deep... you're..."

You're a babbling mess when he pins you there, twitching inside you, cock dragging your sweet spot and kissing it over and over again. You're a drooling mess the more he moves, the more his cock rocks in and out, thickening and swelling impossibly.

"Should call him, huh baby? Let him hear your cunt he wants s'fuckin' bad," Valko can't stand it then, thinking of anyone with the girl that should be all his, every instinct on fire. "All mine, yeah baby? Breed your messy cunt till you're all mine, can't even talk, can you?"

"Mhm," you're shattering when he fucks you faster, meaner, a hand on the table bracing himself as he bites your neck till blood drips, lapping it up so his lips are crimson, moaning against your skin. "Valko... please..."

"I'll give it all to you," he's sinking his teeth again - marking you his, ones he hopes last and last, as his cock is soaked, and your tacky walls are milking him. "Fill you so full, won't be able to see anyone, will you?"

You shatter with one more drag of his fat tip, and that's when it pushes him over the edge, his knot swelling as his cum fills you to the brim, coating your walls in white. He's biting your shoulder, your neck, your arm, everywhere he can, as that fat knot stretches you, hurting so bad you're in tears - but fuck it feels good.

"So much... s'much, V-valko..." you whimper as he moves that knot, kissing all the places he's marked you, moaning softly. His tail twitches as it tickles your skin, his ears curving down.

"Perfect, f-fuck you're so... oh baby I don't think it'll go down I..." He's never had this happen, not being able to calm it down, locked and knotted so thick in your tiny cunt. He keeps kissing you, moving back a bit, hearing your little sharp breath. "Want me to keep this cum plugged inside you? Hmm, breed you, baby?"

"Yes, yes," you're drooling, looking at him with dilated eyes, all covered in his marks. "K-keep it all.. in ... your knot it's so..."

"Mhm, I know baby," he's soothing you even as he rocks it in just an inch - back and forth, until he's pressing all his cum right against your puffy lil cervix.

You're cummin' again and again, but what you don't realize is...

Valko left Caleb all of that on a voice message </3

****

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?”

“...You rabid dog.”

He can’t believe his eyes when he stops on one photo of a mini cake in particular, because it looks to be made exactly just for him. It even seems to be calling out his name, he swears he can hear it whisper into his ear. Oh this is it, he thinks. Quickly placing an order wait maybe make that two, he is relieved to see it will only take a few minutes to wait.

Perking up when it arrives already thoughtfully arranged on a plate by his secretary, Valko immediately shuffles aside the documents on the table while thanking him and asking to not be disturbed for the next fifteen minutes.

When the door closes, he lets out a gleeful chuckle as he rubs his hands together, swiveling a bit on his chair side to side, his eyes sparkling as he appreciates the mini cake.

The smell is divine, his mouth already watering, and he already knows it’s gonna be good. He smiles at the way it’s decorated with bits and pieces of chocolate barks, shavings, and sprinkles. The chaos actually looks playful and fun.

He picks up the fork to dig in, whistling when he sees the inner layers and the gooey center. He took a bite, and his eyes went wide.

“Mmmm!” A moan involuntarily comes out from his lips. He slaps a palm on the table, loud enough for his secretary to hear outside, who pauses in concern as he looks at the door.

Mother. of. all. chocolate. cakes.

Pure bliss sweeps through him, instantly washing away the stresses of the day. Valko lifts a hand to his mouth as he chews, eyes fluttering shut as he moans again, softer this time. He swears he feels sparks run through his veins and stars appear in his vision. His wolf ears and tail appear and swish around happily, a rare slip of control over food.

What sorcery is this? Bite after bite, he practically inhales the mini cake, only slowing down at the last forkful.

He side-eyes the other cake on the table, still safe in its transparent takeout box with a pretty little ribbon. He decides to save it for dinner later.

(It doesn’t survive past the hour.)

“Their cake has healed me. Just one bite and I have achieved inner peace, outer peace, and world peace. As a seasoned chocotist, this cake...”

He types a lengthy and glowing 5-star review for the cafe he ordered from, committing the name and address to memory, pleasantly surprised that it's nearby.

He becomes a loyal customer, ordering two every day (never just one), and every day he experiences the same feeling of joy and contentment. Oddly anchoring him like a sense of home.

Until one day, it doesn’t.

He takes a bite, and… nothing. He tilts his head and scowls as if personally offended, taking another bite… but still nothing. It’s delicious, yes, but the magic is missing. Scratch that, everything feels wrong about it.

Unacceptable.

The secretary is startled when Valko abruptly opens the doors and zooms past. Usually he could hear his boss moaning over the cakes at this time (oh the secrets a secretary has to keep), but today his boss seems disgruntled.

Swiftly reaching the cafe, Valko pauses outside the door when he catches a distinct scent, his heart suddenly hammering wildly in his chest.

It’s the scent of the wind that had played by a stream and rushed through open mountains, of a peaceful evening as the full moon slowly rises, of steaming mugs of hot chocolate near the crackling logs on a fireplace. Such a smell…

The door opens with a soft chime, and he steps into the cozy interior. His gaze sweeps past the few empty tables and seats as he follows the scent towards the counter, ignoring the display case full of colorful cakes and pastries. He is drawn by a soft humming, the sound tugging him to lean over the counter to come even closer.

He was leaning halfway over when the person behind the counter turned around.

You.

Beautiful, he thinks, already lost in adoring you. Warm, and sweet, and just… perfect.

“Oh!” Surprised at his presence, you almost drop your clipboard before collecting yourself and greeting a handsome guy who has a big sunny grin on his face. Quite charming, though you briefly wonder how such a tall and well-built guy was able to move so quietly.

“Um, hello, welcome to my cafe! What can I help you with?” You smile up at him, following the sudden urge to step nearer, stopping only when your hip bumped the counter.

You can help me by being my wife—

Lightly shaking his head to focus, he runs a hand through his hair as he answers. “Hi, I’m Valko, and I—”

Your expression brightened in recognition of your most frequent customer, his unique name being printed on the delivery receipts never failing to make you smile. Not to mention his funny reviews. “Valko?”

Well, damn. His name on your lips is doing numbers to his chest.

You cheerfully thank him for his daily orders, your hand reaching out to lightly touch his arm.

He tries very hard not to melt at the small contact.

Suddenly, he couldn’t bring himself to ask about today’s cake. Instead, he inquires whether he could place a bulk order for a company event.

An event that doesn’t exist… yet. Orrr I could just eat them all in secret, right?

Your face blooms even more, happy to accept. Something about him makes you feel safe to open up, so you excitedly chatter about how he’s just in time, how you could probably work in a bulk order now that you had an assistant who would be able to help you out, especially since she was able to successfully make the batch of cakes this morning.

Valko listens attentively with soft eyes and a gentle smile, with the peace of a man who has found home. He realized that the magic he felt wasn’t in the chocolate cake, it was in the hands that made them.

The hands of his lovely and precious mate.

Dividers by @sweethearticism and @diviniyae 💕

You’re jogging toward the trees now, throwing caution to the wind as you follow the sounds of his pain. Just before you cross into the forest, you finally spot your boyfriend’s massive figure, his wine red hair being the giveaway. He’s facing a pine tree, tail stiff and laid low, touching his head and wincing repeatedly.

As he registers your scent and whips around to face you, you understand why: at least 15 black-tipped, spindly death daggers sprout from his cheeks and nose. 

“Valko?” You cover your mouth in shock, and he stumbles closer, falling forward against you.

“Hurts,” he grunts. 

Like always, you struggle to support his large body. Even more so now that one wrong move could further impale him. “What happened?” 

“Porcupines are supposed to be nocturnal,” he says, voice grim and shaky. “This one wasn’t.” 

If you had an extra hand, you’d drag it down your forehead right now. 

Skunks, raccoons, exceptionally angry squirrels—those had all happened before. A porcupine, though? That was new. Almost impressive.

“You just get into all sorts of trouble, don’t you.” Taking a step back, you brace your hands on his chest to examine him. “Let me have a look at you.” 

The quills look like toothpicks dipped in black ink. And while a few of them seem to have barely penetrated his skin, the majority mark the porcupine’s decisive victory. 

“Can you take them out?” he asks, staring down at you pleadingly. “If we hurry, we can still make the movie on time. I know I’m super late. I’m sorry.”

Twenty of nature’s finest knives in his face, and he’s worried about the movies?

“You obviously had a reason,” you murmur, cupping his less-affected left cheek in your hand. “I don’t know if I should, Koko. The tomato bath was one thing, but this… If I do it wrong, I’ll just make it worse.” 

His response is simple: “I trust you.” 

Cute. But not what you need right now.

Blowing out a breath, you stand up on your tiptoes and reach for one of the looser quills. Your fingers barely brush the tip of it when renewed anxiety shoots through you. “No, no. I can’t! I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You couldn’t if you tried.” He snorts, then winces at the pain. 

“Tell that to the porcupine.” You narrow your eyes. “I think it missed the memo.” 

His ears swivel in acknowledgment. He’s 0–2 in battles today. 

“All right, change of plans,” you announce, clapping your hands and turning on your heel. “We can go to the movies another day. Right now, we need to go to the vet.” 

“It’s not that serious,” he protests. “I’d do it myself if I just had a mirror. Let’s go back to the house, and—”

“I’ll get the car ready.” Your word is final. 

His ears droop atop his head. 

Ultimately, you had to ease him into the passenger’s seat so he didn’t accidentally nudge any of the quills. You debated just shoving him into the trunk so he’d have extra room, but figured extraction would be a difficult task in the clinic’s often-packed parking lot. 

In the waiting room, you try to shield him as best you can from quizzical looks and a particularly curious cat, but he’s without a doubt the largest patient in the room. Likewise, once he’s called to the back, his sheer size makes the exam room furniture look like dollhouse accessories. The central table is nearly the length of his tail alone, and it creaks under his every movement. But you stand dutifully at his side, making sure he’s as comfortable as can be, given the circumstances. 

The vet’s entrance is prompt as always—part of the reason why Valko prefers this clinic. The other is the giant fish tank in the waiting room that he gets to busy himself with. Today, he was in too much pain, but he typically holds intense staring contests with its oblivious inhabitants, bragging to you whenever he “wins.” 

“Well, I typically ask, ‘What seems to be the problem?’,” Dr. Song jokes as she shakes both of your hands. “But today, I don’t think that’s necessary.” 

Sighing, Valko scratches at his jeans. “I went out for a run, and I heard something grunting in a bush nearby. I thought it might’ve been a lost pup, so I went to check it out. Anyone would, right?” He looks to you for support. 

Smiling softly, you rub a hand down his back. “Right.” Not in most circumstances, no!

Nodding gratefully, he continues. “As soon as I crouched down and saw it, it whipped its tail at me. Next thing I knew, it had stabbed me a million times.” 

“Well.” Dr. Song sighs and pulls out a pair of tweezers. “You’re not the worst case I’ve seen. Sometimes, it’s the whole face—and neck.” She waves her hand forward, and Valko scoots toward her on the table. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” 

You take a step back to give her some space, but she quickly shakes her head. “Oh no, you stay standing next to him. I might need you to hold him down.” 

──────

Right when you wonder if Valko’s death grip will shatter every bone in your hand, Dr. Song holds up the final quill in triumph. “That’s nineteen quills total. Looks like Mr. Porcupine let you off easy.” 

Valko kicks the air in desolation. “Doesn’t feel like it.” 

“It will when you wake up tomorrow and you don’t have to wonder, ‘How did it even get my nostrils?’,” she retorts, heading to the door. “Now, let me just get your treatment, and you’ll be free to go.” 

The second she steps into the hall, Valko turns to you and whimpers. “It hurts.” 

Frowning in sympathy, you run your free hand through his hair. “How bad?”

“Really.” 

You start to shush him and scratch the backs of his ears how he likes, but approaching footsteps force him to regain his composure. Still, when Dr. Song re-enters the room, he holds your hand a little tighter. 

“All right,” she begins. “I’m going to disinfect and put ointment on the wounds, and…” She pulls out a familiar, conical object from behind her back. 

Valko freezes as soon as he sees it. Your own mouth parts in shock. 

Is that…? 

No way. 

“...to keep them from getting infected, either through scratching or contamination, I recommend you wear this recovery cone for a week. Just to be safe.” 

When she waves the transparent cone through the air, Valko sputters in consternation. “You want to put me in jail?”

“Of course not. You’ve done nothing wrong. But to prevent further irritation, it’s best that for the next seven days, you only remove this from your neck when absolutely necessary. Also, you should avoid certain skin-to-skin activities that may aggravate the entry spots.” 

You understand her implication, but Valko’s tail thrashes in unease. “What…what kind of activities?” 

The doctor smiles down at him. “The usual. Scenting, kissing, anything further than that. Now! Raise your head for me so I can clean the punctures.” 

Before he does, Valko gives you a look that needs no decoding: I think I’m gonna be sick. 

Day 1

Your keys clatter on the kitchen counter as Valko trails inside behind you. 

Knowing he’ll be glum about his current confinement, you try to get ahead of it, hoping you can offset the bad with so much good, he’ll forget about being in plastic prison.

“So, is there anything you want to do this evening? Watch a drama, make double chocolate chip cookies, play a video game? I could order in from your favorite steakhouse if you want. Or we could go for a walk?” 

Despite your efforts, his lips stay curved downward. His ears barely twitch at the mention of his favorite things. 

“Okay, what about—”

“I look dumb,” he mumbles suddenly, blinking at you through the cone. It surrounds his head like petals to a flower, stopping just above his nose. He looks like an upright bullhorn, or perhaps a frilled lizard, but you can’t tell him that. 

“You look safe,” you say instead. “That’s what matters, yeah?”

“Not when I look dumb, too.” With a huff, he reaches behind his head, eager to free himself of Conecatraz. But before he can undo the clasp, you’re crossing your arms and tapping your foot, giving him a withering glare. 

“You know you aren’t supposed to touch that. Put your hands down.”

“Make me.”

Oh, really? That’s how it is?

Scoffing, you cock your head at him, and the first signs of regret appear on his face. “‘Make’ you, huh? Should I call the vet and tell her what you’re up to? I’m sure she has advice for patients who break the rules. Like, maybe if you mess with your cone too much and stunt your healing progress, you’ll just have to wear it even longer to make up for it?” You start to turn, ready to stalk toward the house phone. 

“No, wait!” Lurching forward, he tries to bend down to snuggle you in apology—a favorite habit of his. But you sidestep him quickly, clicking your tongue in admonishment. 

As he loses his balance, he gives you a look of ultimate betrayal.

“Don’t pout at me. I'm doing this for you, okay? You heard the doctor. Where your face is concerned, skin-to-skin contact is off limits for now.”

As if he didn't hear you, he ducks toward you again, desperate to marry his cone to your shoulder. This time, you give his arm a healthy pinch, and he yelps in shock.

“No, Koko. It's for your own good.”

Frustration grows on his face, beginning to claw at your heart, too. He’s never had to limit contact with you like this. Even when you first met, he was stuck to you like a magnet. 

Sighing, you try to bring him some comfort. “Here. Get on your knees.” 

He follows the order without further prompting, sinking to his knees on the kitchen floor. Even like this, he’s still half your height. 

“Come here.” Reaching through the cone’s opening, you pet the top of his head, running your fingers through his soft strands with care. When he leans into your touch, you trace his ears with light strokes and smile when he shudders. Gradually, the deep frown on his face shrinks to a mild line of displeasure. 

He wraps his strong arms around your thighs in a stubborn thank-you, and you can't help but coo down at him. “You’re my big, strong wolf, aren’t you? It’ll be over before you know it. You can handle this, no problem.” 

Day 3

Valko could not handle it, and there were many problems. 

In fact, while he was bored out of his mind the night of Day 2, he pried open his laptop and drafted a list of complaints.

Eating has become an unpleasant experience. While he’s permitted to remove the cone at mealtimes, he must eat in a separate room so your scent doesn’t lure his unprotected self over. Worse, you will not enter the room until he’s refastened the cone around his neck. The humiliation of having to cone himself solely to win your presence is quickly becoming too much to bear. 

You won’t let him go on errands with you, lest he get into something he shouldn't and aggravate his wounds. This makes him incredibly restless—especially when you come home smelling like other people and things, and there’s nothing he can do about it. This causes significant anxiety and emotional distress. 

He usually sleeps with his tail curled around you and his face shoved deep into your skin. This earns him a constant stream of your scent. However, a wall of pillows now separates your sides of the bed. Even worse, he is not permitted to remove the cone for the night. This causes discomfort and loss of familiarity, which undermines the restorative purpose of sleep. He will be sending you any medical bills that arise due to his sleep deprivation. 

Last, but perhaps most important: the cone obstructs his view of you, which he depends on for energy throughout the day. (You’re quick to deem this one questionable, because the cone is fully see through???)

A document of his grievances was taped to your blanket, just over your heart, this morning. 

Clearly, he had a lot on his mind. 

Now, you lie on the sofa watching TV, trying to cuddle with him as best you can. Your fingers are intertwined, and he’s sprawled awkwardly across your lap, face up and eyes begging. You try to ignore the incessant nonverbal pleading, rubbing circles into his skin with your thumb. 

Sometimes, he turns his head into your belly—or maybe a little lower—and inhales as deeply as he can through the plastic. When you gasp and swat at him, suddenly scandalized, he only huffs and grumbles, bringing you closer. “Just let me have this.”

As the sun dips in the sky, he almost relaxes. He grows captivated by the nature show you’re watching, ears going into overdrive from all the birdsongs and animal calls. It’s the calmest he’s been in the last three days, you think—until the “woodland creatures” portion of the show begins.

His mortal enemy lies in wait within.

“It’s not as big as the one that did this to me,” he growls at the porcupine stumbling around on the screen. “He was a monster.”

“I’m sure he was,” you answer automatically. You’re used to this by now. “How else could he have taken you down?”

Valko grunts in agreement, then pauses the TV. “Can we do something else now?”

“Okay.” You squint at him warily. “Something like what?”

Slowly, as if you won’t be able to see him, he trails his hand down your side, gently squeezing at your hip.

“No,” you sigh, firmly returning his hand to him. 

Tuning out his protests, you unpause the show. At that moment, a closeup of the porcupine’s snout fills the screen.

“Can you at least change the channel, then?” he mumbles.

Day 5

Since you’ve known him, Valko has never been one to give up. Driven and scrupulous, he approaches life with an outlook that’s both endearing and exhausting: if not now, maybe later.

It’s no surprise, then, when his attempts to hold and claim you like normal escalate to new heights. 

One time, you catch him in the midst of the most primal desperation. 

It’s not even noon yet, but here he is: laid out nude in the middle of your bed, head propped on his set of pillows while he clutches one of yours to his cone. With his instincts compromised and your scent already flooding his nose, he can’t yet tell that you’ve entered the room. And boy. If you thought he was shameless in public, Valko in private is a whole different animal.

His hand is all but glued to the heavy bulk between his legs, pumping and twisting like he’ll die if he doesn’t. 

His thumb circles his tip as he works his rhythm, abs flexing with each ragged breath. Every soft, broken moan of your name is an axe to your resolve. 

Before you do something you’ll regret, you try to back out of the bedroom and leave. But as soon as one foot is out the door, your shoulder hits the wall with a quiet thump. 

You freeze instantly, your heart dropping to your feet.

There’s no point in hoping he didn’t hear. To Valko, no sound is ever quiet.

He jerks his head toward you immediately, steady pumps getting wilder the moment your eyes meet. “Fuck,” he pants, writhing desperately on the sheets. His massive thighs tremble with every movement, sending tiny shocks of heat to your core. “Fuck.”

“Valk—”

“Please help me. Please, it hurts so bad. I need you so bad, please, it’s been days.”

You bite your lip so hard, you think you’ll draw blood. “You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care what the vet said,” he growls, fist finally coming to a stop. “I care about you.” 

Clinging to resolve, you cross your arms and stay put. At that, he closes his eyes and breathes slow and deep through his nose.

“Just— Help me finish, please. You don’t have to touch anywhere near my face. That’s the rule, right?”

As that pleading stare pins you to the spot once more, you bite your lip in consideration. He’s flushed all over, and a thin sheen of sweat coats his whole body. He really does need your help, but can you risk it?

When his mask slips, letting the hungry glint in his eyes shine through, you know you can’t.

“I won’t touch you, Valko. But you can use this.” Swiftly, you tug your shirt over your head and toss it onto the bed. He catches it with ease, and behind the cone, his face contorts in bewilderment.

“Use it?”

“To finish,” you explain, folding your arms across your bra. “It’s the safest way I can help you right now.”

Gazing at you like you’re a deity reborn, he presses the fabric to his cone’s exterior, right outside his nose. As he inhales, a deep, guttural groan escapes him. “Thank you,” he pants. His hand returns to his reddened length, and he redoubles his earlier efforts. 

Leaking arousal glistens on his skin, and you can hear how much easier it makes things for him. Covered in his own desire, he slides his hand up and down with no friction, creating lewd, wet sounds that echo through the room. 

“Thank you, thank you— Fuck, thank you. I’ve done this like ten times already, and it’s taken me longer every go,” he admits shamelessly. “This is so much better. Not as good as you, but so much better. Thank you.” 

He bucks his hips into his giant fist, and for a moment, you fear your shared bed might collapse under his ferocity. Once he starts licking the cone’s wall, as if he’ll be able to taste your shirt through the plastic, you almost want to avert your eyes and leave the two of them alone together. 

You don’t have long to ponder it. Soon after, Valko comes quickly with a deep groan of your name, coating his skin in spills of white. As he convulses in pleasure, you approach his bedside to stroke his hair through the cone’s opening—just like you have for the last several days. Valko whines at your touch. 

“Shh, baby. It’s okay,” you whisper. “Just two more days, yeah?”

His response is halfway between a growl and a grunt. Chuckling, you bend to kiss his damp, darkened hair. “Just two more days.” 

Day 7

At 12 a.m., you wake to an empty bed. “Koko?”

There’s no response to your call. Groaning, you throw off the covers and stretch your tired limbs. Where did he run off to? It’s barely been two hours since you went to bed.

Hugging yourself to keep warm, you pad into the dark hallway. The home gym is clear, and he’s not in the kitchen sneaking chocolate. Where could he be?

It doesn’t take long to find out.

In the living room, Valko stands at the back door, gazing at the moon through the window. 

He’s clad only in loose grey sweats. More notably, he’s missing his cone. 

The only indication that he knows you’re there is a near imperceptible twitch of his ears. “It’s day seven, did you know that?” he rumbles. 

Suddenly nervous, you shift on your feet. “I did.” 

“So you also know what I’ve been missing the last seven days.” He turns to face you, eyes stormy and narrowed. “What I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. What I begged you to give me, but you refused. Acted like you were doing me a favor,” he spits out, lips curling into a snarl.

In the moonlight filtering through the window, his amber eyes are a new level of otherworldly. Pale, greyish-white slivers flicker across his chest, making his taut abs seem to ripple in front of you. 

After seven days, he looks very, very grumpy.

You get the sense that you’re in trouble. 

“Koko,” you start, stepping forward to placate him, “you know that’s not—”

“Don’t ‘Koko’ me,” he snaps. “That’s reserved for people I’m close with.”

Is he serious? “You know I’m closer to you than anyone.”

“Right now? After this week? I’m not so sure. But you will be.” His tail swishes behind him as he takes a menacing step toward you. “Come here,” he growls out. 

“We can talk about this, but I’m not going to—”

“Three.”

“Okay, are you seriously threatening me with a countdown?”

“Two.” 

“That’s my thing! You know, when you won’t let me get out of bed, or when you bite too hard, or—”

He doesn’t let you get to “one.”

When he bursts forward at superhuman speed, he doesn’t even give you the chance to run. 

You’re in his arms in an instant, thrashing wildly as he tries to pull you both to the floor. “You’re heavy as fuck!” you bark at him. “Let me go!”

“No.” He overpowers you easily, lowering you to the carpet and quickly pinning you there. He only takes a moment to revel in your submission—your high squeaks and whimpers and feeble attempts to swat him off. Evidently, he has bigger plans for you.

While you wriggle beneath him, he deftly kicks off his sweats and quickly deals with your clothes. You’re wearing only a nightshirt—his, you notice all too late—and completely vulnerable to his impatience.

He rips a line straight down the middle, clumsily shrugging the worn fabric off you. While you’re too busy gawking to register his actions, he slides down your body, coming to a halt at your traitorously wet heat. 

“Usually, at least a little bit of my scent lingers here,” he says, inhaling you deeply. “You’ve lost it after not taking me for so long. But we’ll fix it, won’t we?”

When you don’t respond, his eyes flash up at you. “Won’t we?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, signing away your fate.

“Yeah, we will.” Surging forward, he places an open-mouthed kiss to your entrance, swirling his tongue into you without warning. His ensuing groan could start a national scandal. 

“I’m gonna let you go, all right?” He nips your inner thigh. “Don’t try to run from me. I’ll catch you.” 

He watches closely as he eases off of you, but there’s no need—you obey. 

“Good girl,” he mocks, and you break his gaze with a huff. 

Chuckling, he sweeps his hair back and lies down on the carpet, grabbing your arm and dragging you to him. “Sit on me.”

“…What?”

“My face. Sit on it.”

“…What?” 

“Oh, I get it. Is this a ‘make me’ kind of thing? Well, if you insis—”

“No!” You hold your hands out in defense, grimacing when he grins at you. “You know we’ve never…done that before.”

He shrugs. “First time for everything. Hop on.”

You stay put, shaking your head with vigor no matter how hard your center pulses. “What if you can’t breathe?”

“Don’t need to.”

“I think you do, but okay.” Playing with your fingers, you search for another excuse. “What if I’m too heavy?”

Valko’s smile slips, and his top lip curls as he looks at you flatly. “Now you’re just insulting me.” 

In retrospect, you should’ve known that one wouldn’t get you very far.

“Fine,” you concede shakily. Crawling toward him, you put your hands on either side of his massive body and sit down on him in a straddle. Gingerly, you scoot up, and up, and up, until your hips are right below his chin. His smirk widens all the way. 

“Last chance to back out,” you offer helplessly. How would grilled porcupine taste?

“In your dreams.” In an instant, his arm shoots out behind you and guides you forward. You cry out the second your sensitive flesh meets his skin, nearly cursing from the foreign sensation. 

For a moment, all he does is breathe you in. Lewd, deep inhales, trying to siphon the scent from your depths. “Missed this,” he murmurs, words slightly muffled. “Missed you. Fuck, you’re so good. You smell so good.”

You’re afraid to look down, but you don’t have to. You can hear his smile.

Instead, you look behind you, seeing that his thick, veiny length is flushed and leaking already. Your gulp echoes in your ears. 

A soft press of his lips to your throbbing clit pulls you back to your senses. With another kiss, he positions the bud over his nose and your entrance over his mouth, so he’s sure to catch all your desire.

When he squeezes your hip, you know he’s asking for more. Gently, timidly, you rock against his face to appease him. Valko, though, ever observant when you’re involved, knows you’re withholding your full weight. 

And he won’t have it. 

Simultaneously, he delivers a sharp slap to your backside and nips your clit in warning. When you squeal out into the cool air, he soothes the sting with a searing lash of his tongue. 

“I’m trying!” you cry. “Whenever we do this, I’m always the one on my back! I feel weird.”

Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up just enough to speak. “Tough.”

Then, he plops you right back down, the smack of skin on skin spreading a wildfire across your cheeks.

Eager to explore, he glides his tongue around your core, poking and prodding wherever he likes. When you arch away from the pleasure, too sensitive to stay still, he decides he’s had enough. 

His tight grip on your hips is his first act of defiance. But when he starts bouncing you on his face, alternating between his mouth and nose, you’re more than ready to throw in the towel. 

“Valko!” you whine. Up and down, down and up. Up and down again and again. How long has he wanted this?

A response would require a pause in his actions, so of course, he doesn’t provide one. Instead, he flattens his tongue against your clit and makes you grind your hips down onto him, like he’s nothing but an extension of you. “Valko!” you repeat, stars quickly clouding your vision.

All he offers is an unburdened grunt, clearly not planning on stopping anytime soon. And why would he, when there’s so much to lap up?

A mix of his saliva and your arousal pools between you, with sound effects previously unheard of filling the room. You’re so wet, at one point, you almost slide down his face to his forehead—but he hauls you back up with a laugh, the vibrations only exacerbating the issue. When you pull at his hair, shy and embarrassed, he merely sucks your clit into his mouth and releases it with a pop. 

Captive to his relentless touch, it isn’t long before your muscles contract and release, sending more and more wetness gushing toward his waiting mouth. 

Your mind is a haze as he licks you clean, making sure not to waste a single drop. You do register, though, how he inhales once again when he’s finished. “Smells like me again. That’s better.”

Thinking his wrath has exhausted itself, you feel your body deflate like a popped balloon. You’re more than ready to melt into the sheets and sleep off the worst of the aftermath. 

“We should seal the deal, though. Just to be sure.”

Valko has other plans.

Before you can blink, he flips you over with force, driving your hands and knees into the carpet. When you yelp, he squeezes your backside in apology, only to slip his fingers down to your open slit. Once he confirms that you’re ready for him, he braces his hands on your hips and slides into you with ease. 

Your startled gasp is his grand opportunity. As you cry out his name, he shoves his fingers into your open mouth, making you sputter and swallow around them. With his other hand, he clamps your jaw shut so you’re forced to bite him, your blunt teeth barely a threat against his skin. 

All the while, he’s moaning and laughing, hips stuttering from his rapid thrusts. Each time his base slaps your backside, you feel him grow larger and larger, until you’re being speared on something you’re not sure you can take. But as your muscles contract around him once more, squeezing him with all that they have, you don’t think that matters anymore.

In tune with your own release, hot spurts shoot deep into your channel, followed by a searing, swollen pressure you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to. It’s at this point that the last of your strength crumbles. But when you start to slump into the floor, you find you can’t move too far—not without bringing Valko with you. 

As you both catch your breath, locked together until the comedown, he slides his hand out of your mouth and slaps your cheek lightly, signaling for you to open your screwed-shut eyes. When you do, he sticks his drool-coated fingers into his own mouth, canines poking into his flesh as he swipes his tongue greedily. 

All you can do is whine.

You don’t know when your bodies will loosen up enough for you to separate. All you know is that he’s got you here, right where he wants you, for a long, long, agonizingly long time. 

──────

“Are you satisfied?” you deadpan as the beast finally tucks you into bed. 

“For now.” You can hear his smirk as he flicks off the lights. Doesn’t make much of a difference, though.

It’s dawn. 

“But you can check back with me in an hour. Maybe my answer will be different.”

“In an hour, I will be dead to the world and recovering from you,” you grumble. Suddenly, you purse your lips. “I’m gonna miss that cone, you know.”

Even in the dim morning light, you can see his brows furrow. “What?” 

“You looked cute in it. Like a little puppy.” Reaching out, you grab his face and squish his cheeks between your fingers. “So cute.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but his tail thumps the mattress. “Whatever. It did have its benefits, though. Tonight was so good, I wouldn’t mind a repeat.”

“You really think you can do that again? Seven whole days, no contact?”

“‘Course I do. It wasn’t that hard for me.”

Your eyes narrow into slits. “Not even you believe that.” 

“Yeah. This was fun, though,” he says through a yawn. “We should do it again sometime. Goodnight.”

As he rolls over and tucks his tail around you, blanketing you in half his body weight, a nagging thought won’t leave your head.

Should you switch vets? 

.

.

"What're you doing?" "Shh! Watching!" Grim shooed you away as he very obviously hid in a bush. You furrowed your brows, looking around.

"Watching... what?" Grim held his paw up to his mouth with a whine, telling you to be quiet once more. A sigh escaped your lips. "Alright then, suit yourself. Ace and Deuce are gonna be here any minute."

You had a scheduled study session with them. Well— more so with Deuce. Ace complained about being left out so he was tagging along. Sitting down on a bench, you waited by Heartsbyul's fountain. Since they were taking their sweet time getting here, you decided to get a head start on some homework.

It almost made you forget about the fact that your cat was trying, and failing, to discreetly hide in a bush behind you.

"Hey, Prefect! Didn't keep ya waiting too long, did I?" The familiar voice rung through the garden. Looking up, you spot Ace walking over.

"Riddle stopped me on the way here. Talked my ear off because I cut one of the roses wrong or something. Real buzzkill, right?" He huffed before his eyes drifted to the side. Of course, his eyes went to the beast that stuck out of the plants. Ace raised a brow as he stared at Grim in the bush.

"... So— What's his deal?" "I honestly have no idea. I tried asking him about it and got shushed."

The red card soldier laughed in amusement. "He shushed you with his tiny paw? That's hilarious. You're a real push over sometimes, Prefect." Ace teased, lightly elbowing your arm as he took a seat beside you. You rolled your eyes before changing the subject.

"Where's Deuce? I thought he'd be with you?" Trappola mischievously grinned at your question, leaning back on his arms.

"Mr. Honor-Student is stuck helping Trey in the kitchen. He accidentally bumped into 'em earlier when he was holding this huge cake and it went splat everywhere! You should've seen it!" You and Ace continued to chat, your homework apparently long forgotten as he told you more about what happened with Deuce.

Meanwhile from the distance, Grim watched you two. As your self proclaimed cupid, Grim decided he needed to consider all his options for your potential lover. Even Ace. Yuck.

Nonetheless, Grim knows you best. And he knows you're prone to bad decisions, unlike himself of course. So maybe Ace would be a good fit for you?

He's been in more trouble just as a first year compared to a lot of the juniors. Maybe the thrill is what you need to get out of your slump?

Grim watches as Ace digs through his bag, handing you a tiny, cherry flavored lollipop. He grabs another for himself as the two of you dink your lollipops together before plopping it into your mouth.

The grin on your face is one of relaxation— an expression communicating peace, something you’ve been missing for a while as you listen to Ace continue to blabber on about whatever.

That face… it’s the look of love!

Haha! Grim's found your ideal match in less than an hour! Score! That's what you get when you're dealing with the future greatest mage of all time!

Now he's just got to get you two to confess your undying love for one another, right? He can do that easy!... Wait, how does he do that?

Grim thought extremely hard, way harder than he was used to. Back at Sam's shop... the two people on the postcard were kissing, right? So that means Ace needs to kiss you! Wow, look at this genius making plans on the fly. It's a wonder people don't ask for his autograph when he walks by.

So, in order to get you and Ace to kiss, he needs to get your faces close. Easy!

Glancing around him, the direbeast spots stones scattering the ground. One by one, he scoops them up in his paws, all different sizes. The bushes rustles as he changes positions. If you or Ace notice, neither one of you seem to care. Obviously. You two are so in love, you can't see anything else!

Grim nearly topples over by the time he gets where he needs to be. The rocks are heavier than he anticipates, but none of that matters. All it means is that his plans will be more effective. The biggest rock lays in his good paw as he lets the others fall on the ground in front of him. A calm, stabilizing breath escapes from his throat as he winds his hand back, further and further and further until...

"Ow! What the—!?" Ace's head is pushed forward ever so slightly as a rock collides with him from behind, his lollipop falling right out of his mouth. You shoot him a weird look and raise a brow as you halt your movements, taking the sweet treat out from your lips. A wide, toothy grin appears on Grim's face. He's quick to load up another rock. "OW! This has got to be intentional! Whoever’s doing that better— Hey!" Ace whines, attempting to cover his head. You blink in surprise, leaning toward Ace. "Uh, are you okay?" "Does it sound like I'm okay!?"

You're moving closer to him to check on him, and Ace is moving closer to you to get away from the stones. Perfect!... Except it's not enough. You're close, but not kissing close. Time to bring out the big guns.

Grim takes another, deeper breath before emerging out from the bushes.

"Maybe it's acorns." Trying to ease the pain, you put your hand on the back of Ace's head. "Gah! I think a bump's forming!" Ace groans, attempting to shoo your hand away. "Nothing a bit of ice can't fix. No need to be a baby." You tease, shrugging your shoulders as you look away from Ace.

“Grim are you seeing this?” Turning around on the bench toward the bushes behind the two of you, you’re expecting to spot Grim instantaneously. “Grim?” A hint of concern plagues your voice as you glance around for Grim. “I’m the one being attacked and you’re worried about him?” Ace whines beside you, lightly kicking your leg to get your attention back on him.

He doesn’t get the acknowledgment he wants as you stare at something behind him moving scarily fast.

"Is that...? When did he get back there?" "YOU'LL THANK ME LATER!"

Charging full force into Ace's back, Grim slams directly into the boy, shoving him into you. The card soldier's body is lunged forward, his face connecting with yours. Score!

... His victory is short-lived as, instead of one of those romantic, accidental kisses in the movies, Ace's forehead crashes into yours. Hard. Hard enough both yours and his head begin swelling instantly.

Both of you lean back, rubbing the spot with pained hisses. The lollipop in your free hand fell to the ground beside Ace’s.

"Grim! What the hell!?" You growl, opening an eye to glare at him through the pain. The direbeast freezes, akin to a deer in headlights, especially as Ace bounces up. "You're the one who was throwing rocks at me too, huh? Oh, you're so dead!"

Mission aborted! Abort mission!

Safe to say Grim is crossing off Ace from your 'True Love' list as he bolts away from the crime scene, swiping both of the fallen lollipops on his way out.

.

.

BONUS

Sitting on your bed, you press a thing of ice to Ace's head, a small chuckle escaping your lips as he dramatically whines from the contact. He too has an ice pack against your forehead, though you seem much more composed with the injury.

"This sucks. My head hurts everywhere. And my arm is getting tired from holding this up." He complained, his hand holding up ice to your bruise slipping as he lets his body collapse forward into you. His head rests in the crook of your neck. You can practically feel his pouty expression against your skin.

"I know something that might help?" You hum, taking the two ice packs and discarding it onto your nightstand. Ace flickers his eyes up from his place against you, quirking a brow. "Oh really? What, you gonna cast a spell or something? Wait, news flash, you can't! Magicless little Prefect—"

His words are cut off as he feels your lips softly press against the bruise on his forehead. The speed in which his cheeks begin to take on a color similar to his hair is impressive. He stares at you, a bit dazed. You can't help but smirk.

He wasn't really intending to do anything, not anything kalim had done, but he still kept thinking about it. Especially because Crewel forced him to work with you and Kalim on a project. Talk about sexual tension, he scoffed to himself at the things that kept happening in that godforsaken class.

Kalim was too touchy.

You were too flirty.

Jamil kept staring where he shouldn't have.

He was starting to become bitter.

He shouldn't take this from kalim.

But he wants you, and you don't seem to object to that idea.

Which is why you were rushing out of Ramshackle late at night, praying Grim wouldn't wake at the noises of your late night dress-up. Scurrying out the door, you felt the cool breeze hit your face. What Jamil didn't know is that you pre-gamed. You were already a little high before your body even hit the quiet of the night.

Arriving at Scarabia and to Jamil's dorm, his wary gaze softened.

You were a sight for sore eyes, and his eyes were definitely sore, definitely exhausted, definitely hurt.

“Prefect. Thanks for swinging by,” His eyes glistened in the dim, warm lighting. “I didn't expect you to be so willing to come by anyway. Thought maybe you would be here for Kalim, considering you're all he talks about.”

Allowing you to come inside, you quickly followed up with his note of Kalim's behavior. “Has he really? I mean, he's not all I'm here for all the time, I still like the parties, I like helping around, and.. y'know, I did attend your last basketball game, so I don't know why it's beyond you to think I wouldn't show for you.”

Jamil tenses up a little. His fingers reach a piece of raven hair atop his head, and he quickly fixes himself, clearing his voice. “Ah well.. I just didn't wanna take up the time you could be spending with him.”

Then your gaze drifted to his nightstand. His gaze shifted to the nightstand as well.

The gummy worms he confiscated from kalim.

“You don't have anything new?”

“No—no, I don't regularly seek things like this out,”

“Oh.”

A beat of silence.

“I just need something to take the edge off,” he muttered. “I don't need anyone's eyes to particularly feast on a selection of something grand. I don't desire that attention, either. It's best to keep out of sight. People use that against you if you aren't handling it properly.”

His gaze landed back on yours.

“Speaking of, your eyes are a tad red.” He sighs, examining you quickly. “I'm assuming that isn't due to lack of sleep.”

You, on the other hand, noted how strange his body language was. Exhaust was written into his palms and expression, but his eyes seemed suddenly lighter, like he was anticipating something. Whatever it was, you couldn't decipher it before he spoke once more.

“I expected us to be on the same page when you arrived..”

“Oh. I just thought it'd be more fun this way. It helps me relax,”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well. I suppose it doesn't make much of a difference.”

“What'd Kalim do to you, Jamil? You look more exhausted than you look after a basketball game when all Floyd can do is be stupid,”

“What? .. Oh, just thinking about it spikes my blood pressure. That assignment we're working on is driving me insane. He asked for a parrot—again. How many times have I convinced him that shouldn't be the case? Many. How many times does he seem to forget? Infinitely. He foolishly acquainted himself with beetles as his new kick and wants me to prepare another meal for whomever it may be that he was inviting this time. Then he simply had the audacity to ask if he could invite you over to a feast.” he suddenly rambled. He gawked at your form, awaiting ridicule or signs of boredom or disinterest with his stress, only for you to laugh.

Not mockingly, but softly. It's not pity, but something kind, familiar.

Was he even going to last the night without itching to get on top of you? He was beyond base desires, but felt more selfish than usual.

Forget that, he thought.

“He seriously wanted a parrot again?”

“You'd think I would have this conversation as a party trick by now.”

“Yeah, yeah.. Oh, Jamil, hey, what's up with the project thing? He seemed pretty good to me,”

He paused for a second.

Shiiiit.

“He kept talking about you, that's all.”

“You aren't trying to use me here to take advantage of him, are you?”

“Those days are beyond my character. You don't see me that way, do you, ❤︎?”

His eyes crinkled, trying to discern the matter.

“..I was messing with you, Jamil.”

“Ah. Fair enough. Perhaps you owe me for fooling me in such an exhausted state. You're taking advantage of my heart.”

“I don't owe you a thing, Jamil!”

“Perhaps you forget what I saw,”

“Irrelevant, your honor.”

“So, how do I go about doing this?”

“Huh?”

His gaze befell the dimly illuminated gummy worms upon his nightstand.

Like sin conceptualized beyond the older idea of the apple.

“Oh, you wanna know how to do that? You just eat it and wait.”

“Ah.. That's not what I meant.”

“Huh?”

“I assumed there was some sort of way or ritual to go about it. It seems like everyone has a different way of doing it.”

“Oh.. well, back where I'm from, I just did it pretty casual and waited til it hit me.”

“Ah, so there isn't much cultural relevance to the process. And after that?”

“You just let the high ride through.”

“...Ride through?”

“...Get your head out of the gutter, Jamil.”

Jamil couldn't stop himself from staring at you after it hit him hard.

His arms were draped over your shoulders as he sat behind you on his bed, watching something he claimed to be a classic. You could've sworn you've been in this situation before.

Probably because you have.

But whatever. Jamil didn't cross those lines. He just wanted to decompress with you, of all people. Away from kalim for now, just chill. With you. Alone in his bed, sure. Watching a movie? Yeah, it doesn't ring a bell at all.

“My older sister used to watch this one all the time,” he muttered, his hands careful on your joints.

“She has good taste,” you stared back at him. His eyes, compared to Kalim’s, were naturally darker. His eyelids were heavier, but he was more relaxed in the muscles. And his lips—

“She does have good taste in movies. I'll give her credit where it's due.”

Then, you tilted your head back to the glowing screen.

The movie was actually pretty good.

Did Jamil also run hot while high? That's what it felt like, honestly.

With his long hair being fully down, something you rarely see, and his body warmth being so near, you were getting deja vu. Not that you were comparing the two, but the situations just seemed so familiar. You could feel his breathing—the way he inhaled and exhaled while comfortable.

It wasn't the exhaling he did when he panicked over Kalim's whereabouts, or the inhaling he did as he made a basket, or the way he held his breath while seeing you and kalim together—what?

You never even thought about that until now.

Privy to Crewel's instructions, you had reached over to dump another liquid into the concoction. Your arm had brushed against Kalim’s lap, and you noticed how Jamil tensed, how his jaw looked like it ached, but didn't even think about it. It had just passed you.

Now, it hit you.

Duh, there was a reason Ace was getting suspicious after that most recent game.

The way Jamil went up to you, sweaty and damp hair clinging to his forehead, talking to you about the shots he made, the other jerks he was up against, Floyd being weird, whatever. The way he looked, all glistening and warm with exhaust, was kind of hot.

Because basketball was something he liked.

Not something he had to do as an obligation.

So his exhaustion there? It is plainly different, plainly sexy.

Maybe that's why Ace was digging himself into Deuce's ear at lunch the next day.

Maybe your flirting had gone too far, far too obvious.

Before your train of thought had even continued, Jamil shifted behind you.

A soft accidental movement.

“S-Sorry.” He mumbled, his voice a lower timbre.

For what?

Maybe for the fact his crotch was against you in ways you seemed to ignore at the moment.

The next movie automatically played, and you felt the high really getting into your system now.

You meant to simply adjust the comfortable shorts you were wearing!

But your hand accidentally hit his thigh, and maybe his thigh was a little bit too close to his crotch, and maybe his hands gripped your waist in a sudden movement.

“❤︎.”

“J-Jamil,” you turned your head to face his gaze, and he looked even hotter with his eyes sort of glossy.

Were all the guys at Scarabia this hot!?!

Nevermind that.

“You know your perfume is very strong today, yes?”

“...Yes,”

“You know that I know what you just did wasn't an accident?”

“....Maybe.”

“No, not maybe.”

“.... Well?”

His eyebrows knitted together tightly.

“❤︎, turn around.”

So, turning around is exactly what you did. Facing him completely now, you noticed how warm his face was, how pretty his lips were, how pretty his eyes were—

“mmh.”

He just went in for the kill. Was Jamil always this bold? No, he liked to stay a bit on the sidelines. Coaches don't play. They watch, don't they? Maybe, but he liked this idea better. His lips were really soft, and his hands, thoroughly firm, grazed beneath your shirt, and maybe the idea of just keeping it casual was out of the question.

His hand grazed the soft buds on your chest teasingly.

“There, you see? This is what happens when you tease me like this. I was trying to relax, ❤︎. You wanna be a tease, I can treat you as one, and seize the little expression on your face when I do,” he chided, his tone low and sorta mean.

“I didn't mean to,” you giggled out, the high making you daring.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

“Right. Am I boring you?”

“What? No.”

His hand drifted beneath the lower layer of your hair, the bit closest to where your scalp and neck meet—and then pulled. When you let out a little whine, he smiled.

“You're pretty like that. But I'll be nice.” Begrudgingly, he let go. “I know better. But you did expect this to come at one point, didn't you, prefect? You wanted to climb all over kalim in front of me, give me stupid pretty eyes after you saw me roughhousing on the court… ah, well, this was inevitable, wasn't it?” he spoke condescendingly, a specific rough addition to his voice.

When you failed to reply, he leaned in for another kiss and bit your lip. “Answer me when I ask you something, prefect,”

“Okay, okay, .. yes,”

“Yes..?”

“Yes, it was inevitable.”

“Very well then. You know I don't take kindly to carefree whims. I deal with that enough. So, slow and steady wins the race, yeah?”

“...Yes,”

“I'll do better, and I'll go further than what Kalim did to you. He's nothing . . But a whiny puppy. I've heard him in our youth. After all, I am here to decompress, and I know you certainly won't mind since you've always particularly had an atrocious sense of what personal space was, especially around me.” His dark charcoal eyes were a bit red, staring down at you with such a demanding brood.

You didn't realize how demanding he could be. But then again, you didn't really mind.

“I mean..”

“Mmm. Yes,”

He kissed you once more, this time, only more intense. His hands slipped unapologetically underneath your clothes. He liked the feeling of control, naturally. His soft digits reached the fabric of your shirt, and with that, he broke the kiss, licking his lips quickly after.

“Arms up,” he insisted, watching as you raised your arms. He slid the cotton above and off your body, his eyes drifting at the sight of your breasts.

“No bra?” he questioned, staring back up at you. All you could muster was a shake of the head, and he smirked.

“Guess I have to return the favor.”

After a few touches, kisses, and a little bit of grinding, he broke off the tongue-kiss you both shared. He felt you palm him beneath his boxers, and he groaned.

“❤︎, you really wanna do that?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

He smirked. “Ah, well.. go on then.”

You could already see the imprint of it, half-hard beneath the cotton material of his boxers. You gently slipped two digits beneath the waistband, slipping it down with slow finesse. He grinned wider at the sight of you witnessing him in such a way, one he already assumed you thought about.

When the fabric was removed, stood his erection, already wet with pre-cum at the tip. From the darkish red tip, led a few dark veins, and he fit just right within your palms. He was bigger than you thought, noting the small clean patch of raven hair right above it.

“A-Ah, that feels good. Keep doing that,” he insisted as you tested out a few strokes, pressing the pad of your thumb right onto the slit. His entire body jolted, and his eyes widened in excitement. The sight of him and his skin in the dim, warm lighting, all warm and glistening with sweat, made you extremely wet. The sight of him in his jersey all sweaty was hot enough. Now seeing him nude, as if he were a model to ogle and paint, was like the seven’s holy grail and gift to you.

It was an experience you didn't think you'd have.

Despite Jamil's doubts of being interesting enough, or knowing that only two weeks ago you would just spare him the time and never return, he was pretty vocal about you on his cock.

“You're s'good at this, ❤︎..”

“K-Keep goin’,”

After a few more strokes to the base of his cock, down the pretty veins and to the very brownish reddish tip, he gripped your waist, making tiny crescents on each side, before cumming spurts of his milky seed with a loud groan.

“Ah, Ah, you did g-good,” he huffed, noting how much he came just with your hands. Cum was dripping down his dark nipples, which seemed to be humorous to you.

“What's so funny, huh?” He playfully scoffed. “it won't be all funny when I—erk!?”

You were licking his own cum off of his chest.

And just like that, he was hard again. “By the sevens, ❤︎. D-Did you jus-”

“JAMIL!” the door slammed wide open.

You froze. Holy shit. Kalim was at the doorway. While your hand was on Jamil’s half-hard cock, still oozing fluids; with his cum all over your lips as if it were lip gloss. Jamil was petrified.

And Kalim?

Unreadable. First, he looked shocked.

Then, he looked sad.

“❤︎… Jamil.. are those my gummy worms? And.. you're having fun without me!? Traitor! Two of my best friends are doing stuff without me!? Not fair!”

You must've been high. Well, you were. But did he really just say that?

He wasn't mad.

He wanted to join.

Jamil was a fit contestant to be a gargoyle that Malleus would have studying for days.

“K-Kalim..” he gritted his teeth.

“Kalim!” you shot up, licking your lips.

Jamil sighed, exasperated.

Grabbing a gummy from the nightstand, you turned to Kalim, then to Jamil.

“...Hey Jamil?” You suddenly turned to face him.

“Please, please, please Jamil! Lemme cum inside of ❤︎, pleas—mpph—c'mon, i-i’m close, I feel so tingly, I gotta…”

“Pull out,” he bitterly scoffed. “Don't cum either,” he scolded kalim, and kalim whined, reluctantly pulling out of you, to your own dismay.

“Jamil, that's kinda mea—” you couldn't finish your sentence when you saw it.

“Hah! He's gotta pay a price, slow and steady, before he gets the prize of the night, yeah? and he's been exceptionally demanding recently, it's only best to return the favor.”

Jamil's hand was around kalim's neck, while the other was way lower, at a different base. Kalim was whining, moaning like a girl into Jamil's shoulder. “Mmnph, J-Jamil, m'gonna cuuum,” he gasped out, feeling the way Jamil's cock grinded against his own.

“Shhh, shh,” Jamil feigned concern and comfort as he held their cocks together in his palm. Kalim's hips were writhing, and Jamil didn't like that.

“Aah! J-Jamil, that hurt! Y-you’re so not fair!” he whined, his thighs and bottom stinging with a tiny mark left on his behind.

Before Kalim could even recover and register it, he was cumming as Jamil stroked his weeping slit again.

“Mmph, m'cumming, J-Jamil,” he stammered, and Jamil stuck his fingers into Kalim's mouth, which Kalim instinctively began to suck on. They were both blissed out from the high, and Jamil couldn't help but see Kalim's pouty expression before cumming himself, spurts of the white fluid mixing within Kalim’s heavier load. It painted their thighs, and Kalim panted.

“Was I good enough, Jamil? Please?”

“Mmn.. one last thing,” he gasped out.

Jamil took his digits and made a quick swipe of shared cum from Kalim's thighs and stuck the digits into Kalim's mouth.

You didn't think they could be this crazy. You were frozen, a little lonely from the lack of touch, but the sight was still insane. Kalim looked good this way. Jamil looked hot when he wasn't trying to be ordinary or polite all the time.

“❤︎, ❤︎, I wanna give you a baby,” kalim sputtered as he crawled his way back to you on the bed. Jamil laughed at the sight.

“Go on,” he insisted, noting the fact Kalim was waiting for permission. “I also get a turn,” he added, crawling closer to the side of you.

“You guys are s-so..”

“Shh. No philosophical thoughts are needed right now, prefect.” Jamil ran his hands through your sweat-streaked hair.

Kalim made zero hesitation to find his way back inside of you, gliding his wet, half-hardened cock at your entrance. “G-Gaaah, she really likes me!” he cried out, pushing inch by inch inside. All while Kalim was rutting inside, Jamil slid his hand down your stomach, and to your clit, rubbing it like he was trying to summon a genie.

Before you could let out a moan, Jamil slipped his tongue into your mouth, grinning into it like he already knew what he was doing. The pad of his fingertips felt good, and once Kalim bottomed out, it was like everything you wished for came true.

It didn't take long for you to already wanna cum. Kalim was kissing you everywhere he could as he thrusted inside of you like a reckless stray dog, shoulders burdened with your legs, and Jamil working his fingers and dirty talking everywhere else. It was overwhelming, at that point.

“Mmppph, I really wanna cum, Jamil!”

“I already told you once you behaved, you could,” he insisted, smirking.

“I did behave, I did, Jamil! Don't be so cruel!”

“P-Please,” you whined as Kalim rutted right at your g-spot.

“Mmmf—feels s’good there—aaah, Jamil, say something!”

Jamil smirked.

“Be my guest.”

With that, Kalim hilted inside of you, his cum warm and sticky.

“Aaahmph! ❤︎, you feel s'good, I wanna stay inside aaaall night—”

“m’—K-Kalim!” you whined out, cumming right after he did.

It wasn't surprising that Kalim would be the one to cum a lot, he had to have a lot of siblings for a reason—but the sheer amount he released inside of you was so extreme to the point where it was oozing out. Kalim's body flopped onto yours, and blissed out from sex and the high, teary-eyed from the overwhelming sheer of it all, he grinned and pressed a kiss to your neck.

Jamil's eyes broadened at the sight, a little envious now. “Ah, well. Seems like it's my turn,”

“But I wanna stay—”

“Kalim, we're not going to argue. You've already had your turn—”

“I’m a real good lover, so I wanna stay—”

(https://poipiku.com/7505915/13194252.html)

This work contains sexually explicit content and is intended for mature audiences only. Please view with discretion.

In my previous Ominis × MC smut, the theme was their “first time”, so I couldn’t really draw much of Ominis making his partner feel good, and that was something I regretted. So I’m very satisfied that I got to draw plenty of those scenes this time!

I actually wanted to include a scene where he uses Parseltongue during oral too, but I couldn’t fit it into the story, so I’d love to draw that in another comic someday 🥵