valko has a habit of nuzzling you whenever he can ♡
he just cannot help himself, the moment you’re within reach, he’s leaning in.
he’ll rest his forehead on your shoulder for a second before rubbing his nose against you with the tiniest sigh, like he’s exactly where he wants to be.
“valko..?”
he only hums in response, nose now buried against the side of your neck, taking a deep breath in.
“…are you listening?” you try again.
he nuzzles you again, with a little more energy, smiling when you laugh and try to push his face away.
“ughh.. stop it!” you playfully whine.
but you lying in bed is always his favorite.
he’ll curl his arms around you, hiding his face against your hair or the crook of your neck, breathing you in like it’s the most comforting thing in the world.
his wolf ears relax the instant he settles against you, giving a content flick as you absentmindedly scratch behind one.
“…mm.” it’s barely a sound— more of a pleased rumble from him.
you smile, continuing to rub slow circles behind his ear.
behind him, his tail gives a slow, lazy swish across the bed.
“aww! your tail is wagging, you’re like a real puppy!” you say in complete awe.
the fluffy thing gives another thump against the mattress.
“…traitor,” he almost growls, but he isn’t talking to you— he’s talking to his tail.
his ears pin back with embarrassment while the traitorous thing keeps swaying behind him anyway, picking up speed the more you laugh.
“i can’t control it..” he huffs. “stop looking at it.”
he lets out the smallest groan before hiding his face even deeper against your neck.
a little silence passes, and after a bit he mumbles something into your skin.
“what was that?” you ask.
“…makes me feel better.” his ears lower slightly with embarrassment once again. “when you smell like me.”
you reach up to smooth a hand over one fluffy ear, smiling when it flicks happily beneath your fingers.
“then i guess i don’t mind.”
his tail, which had finally calmed down, immediately starts wagging again— faster this time, sweeping happily back and forth against the blankets.
A/N: My first of hopefully many future contributions to the Valko cause! Let's keep pushing and hope infold brings him back
"Can you stop petting me like a damn dog?" Another annoyed grumble from the hunk of a man splayed over your lap. One that only makes you chuckle.
He'd come home particularly grumpy today, not even fully taking off his work suit before flopping head down into your body while you were catching up on your favorite show.
"How are you going to put yourself in prime petting position and then complain when I do just that?" Amusement tinges your tone, your fingers getting lost in the red tuft of hair to scratch behind fluffy ears.
Valko's entire body shudders at the move.
"See? You love this, don't you?"
"Shut up," his quip holds no bite. Not when his usual sharp tone is softened by a breathy whine.
You absolutely loved this part of him. Loved how despite fighting his instincts tooth and nail, you were always capable of making him melt under you.
Feeling particularly emboldened by this turn of events, you decide that some more teasing is in order.
Your fingers trail down to his undercut, lightly tugging at the hair there and eliciting a soft groan from the man.
"Aw, I'm sorry then. I'll stop since you hate it so much," fingers halting their movement causes him to go so very still. Amber eyes find yours in an instant, brimming with something that makes you feel hot and cold all at once.
"S'fine. Don't stop." His voice is merely above a whisper.
"What was that?" You're pulling your whole hand away now, but it is caught in his grip before you have the chance to create much distance.
In the blink of an eye, your entire world flips and your back makes contact with the plush couch beneath you. His eyes almost seem to glow now. Topaz brimming with a flame from his very soul.
Behind him, his tail flops against the head of the couch, beating with a soft, insistent *thump thump*
Valko lowers himself so that his chest presses into yours, and his face nests against your neck. Breathing you in like his favorite scent. Your hand—still in his hold—is redirected back to his tuft of burgundy hair.
"I said don't stop. Please." If you weren't already lying down, the little whine in the word would've made your knees weaker than jelly and sent your body tumbling to the ground.
You oblige. Of course you do. Who ever could be invulnerable to the charm of an oversized puppy begging for attention?
"Should've never complained in the first place," soft caresses follow even soften head scratches, and he's humming and burying his nose deeper against your skin.
summary: The morning is fuzzy, but volleyball will clear your minds, right?
wc: 2.1k
series masterlist
The morning is warm. Golden sunlight pours into the room through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, and for a moment you're blissfully disoriented, trying to remember where you are and whose chest you're resting on.
Wait.
What?
You don't jerk away immediately. Mostly because you don't want to, but also because you can't. Zayne's grip around your waist is firm, his arm a solid weight anchoring you to him. His head rests on yours, his breath even, and you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek. There's no way out without waking him, and a traitorous part of you is deeply grateful for that.
Your body relaxes into him despite every rational thought screaming at you to move. It's alright, you can just savor this moment, right? It's not like it was a conscious thing. The two of you just happened to migrate closer in this ridiculously large bed, drawn together by some random gravitational pull. You cuddled like normal humans do. Completely platonic. Nothing to read into.
“Are you awake?”
If your heart wasn’t pounding before, it is now. His voice is rough with sleep, a low rumble that you feel as much as hear, and it sends a shiver down your spine that you desperately hope he doesn't notice.
“Y-yeah.” You admit, tilting your head up to look at him. His hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up in ways you've never seen, and his eyes are still half-lidded with exhaustion. It's the most unguarded you've ever seen him, no professional mask in sight. That's probably why he's made no move to let go of you yet.
“You had a nightmare last night. Do you remember what it was about?” His grip around your waist releases, so you reluctantly untangle yourself from him, though you try to hide your disappointment while you shift to face him. The loss of his warmth is immediate, and you have to resist the urge to reach for him again.
"Hmm…I don't think so." You search your memory, finding nothing. "I didn't say anything, right?" A sudden fear strikes your heart. What if you'd confessed something in your sleep? What if you'd murmured his name, whispered something that gave away the years of longing you'd carefully hidden?
But Zayne shakes his head, and the tension in your shoulders eases. "No, you didn't say anything comprehensible. But you seemed very agitated. You only calmed down once I moved closer.” If he finds anything odd about that, he doesn’t say.
Instead, he studies you for a long moment, and then slips out of bed. You hold back on trying to call out after him, to understand why, instead of waking you from the nightmare, he’d chosen to cradle you in his arms. And why he hadn’t wondered why it worked.
Of course, before you can linger on the thought, your phone buzzes.
Tara: Hope you’re feeling well rested! We’re gonna meet on the beach for team volleyball if you guys want to join <33
"Zayne?" You call out, propping yourself up on your elbows. "Some of my colleagues are going to play volleyball on the beach."
He peeks his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. You almost immediately cringe at your tone of voice, the way it had come out like you were asking for permission, like you needed his approval. But he doesn't comment.
"We can join them if you'd like?" A ghost of a smile plays on his face, and you feel your chest loosen. You'll take it. Really, you'd take anything he's willing to give.
After an only slightly awkward morning of getting dressed and tiptoeing around each other, both of you carefully avoiding eye contact as you pass each other in the small space, you head out for the beach.
The sun is high and warm, the sand soft beneath your sandals. Once again, Zayne takes your bag from you without asking, quieting your protests with an amused look. You know you should let him do boyfriend things, that it's part of the act, but something about it makes your heart ache every time. How were you supposed to go back to normal life after this? How were you supposed to return to friendly lunches and professional touches when you'd had this?
“Are those your friends?” Zayne points out a group of people, who soon spot you two and begin waving furiously.
“Yeah…that’s them.”
Not everyone had arrived in time for dinner last night, so you find yourself once again introducing Zayne to a new round of faces. You try not to cringe when someone asks for the story again, but Zayne swoops in before you can stumble through it, his hand finding the small of your back as he launches into the practiced tale. He's so smooth about it, so natural, that even you almost believe him.
"I figured you weren't going to come." Xavier's quiet voice pulls you from your thoughts, all of which center around the warmth of Zayne's hand on your back. You'd almost forgotten he was coming.
"Hm? Oh um…we didn't think Zayne would get the vacation time." You force a smile, hoping to hide your nerves. Xavier is annoyingly perceptive, and he's worked with you enough to know when you're lying. Hell, he can probably read it in the slight tremor of your voice and the way you won't quite meet his eyes. But he doesn't say anything.
"Who's this?" Zayne's hand slides from your back to your hip, pulling you just a fraction closer. You almost immediately go rigid, your breath catching in your throat. His palm is warm even through the thin fabric of your swimsuit coverup, and you can feel the imprint of his fingers like a brand. Xavier's brow raises at your clear surprise, and you mentally curse yourself.
"This is Xavier!" You say, too brightly. "I've mentioned him before, right? We go on a lot of missions together."
Zayne nods in understanding, though something flickers in his eyes, something you can't quite name. He doesn't seem as polite as he was last night, his handshake with Xavier brief and stiff before he moves just a little closer to you, his body angled to block you slightly.
Huh.
"Well um, we should go before they start volleyball without us, right? Come on Zayne!" You're quick to pull him away from the conversation, casting Xavier a pleading look over your shoulder, one that says please don't tell anyone this isn't actually my boyfriend. He nods, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch, fighting a smile.
You thought you knew almost everything about Zayne. But what he never mentioned that he was incredible at volleyball.
"This is hardly fair! I demand a rematch!" Simone complains as Zayne once again spikes the ball, managing to score the winning point. The ball hits the sand with a satisfying thud, and the opposing team groans in defeat.
You cheer, high-fiving him as your team celebrates around you. He hadn't lost a single point, in every match. His reflexes were insane, his aim impeccable, and he moved across the sand with an athletic grace that left you breathless every time.
It was so hot. And not temperature wise.
"I'd be happy to play again," Zayne says to Simone, his tone almost teasing, "but I suspect a similar outcome."
You grin at him, trying not to let your gaze linger too long on his outfit. Well, if you could call loosely slung board shorts and nothing else an outfit. The sun catches the water droplets on his skin, tracing the lines of his shoulders and chest, and you have to physically force yourself to look away before you start drooling.
"I'll grab some water. Start preparing our victory speech." You smile, turning to head over to the cooler as he sits down under an umbrella, accepting a towel from one of your colleagues.
"Here." Xavier props open the cooler for you, helping you dig through the ice for some water bottles. You can feel his gaze on you as you take a sip, assessing you. With a heavy sigh, you give up.
"Were we that obvious?" You murmur, eyes downcast as you pick at the label on your bottle.
"Not at first." Xavier shrugs, leaning casually against the plastic cooler. "But I always kiss my girlfriend after we win, and you two only ever high five.”
He points it out so casually, so matter-of-factly, that it takes a moment for the implication to land. Your eyes flit over to Zayne, who's nodding along to Simone's dramatic reenactment of her match against Xavier, her hands flying as she describes his "unfair" serves.
He meets your eyes across the sand, his head tilting ever so slightly when he notices you standing frozen with the water bottle in hand. You wave, a small gesture, and he nods back before returning his attention to Simone.
You move to stand up, ready to head back, when Xavier's voice stops you.
"You should know…he isn't faking."
For a moment, you just stare at him. The words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Surely he isn't saying what you think he's saying? Surely he can't mean-
"Xavier I don't think-”
"Trust me." Xavier's expression is unreadable, but his voice is certain. "If you're worried he doesn't feel the same way, you shouldn't be."
He shrugs, like he hasn't just upended your entire world, and stands up, dusting the sand off his shorts. You're left dumbfounded as he simply walks away, joining his partner under their umbrella with an easy motion.
You take another sip of water just to give yourself something to do, your mind reeling. Maybe Zayne had been a little…different lately. The hand-holding that lingered a second too long. The sandwiches made exactly the way you liked them. The way he'd held you through the night. But he was just helping you out, right? Being a good friend and definitely a good fake boyfriend.
Then again…why was he keeping the act up when the two of you were alone? No one was watching when he made sure your nightmare stopped, when he tucked his jacket around your shoulders. That wasn't for show.
Was it seriously possible that Zayne actually wanted to be your boyfriend?
Before you can toss the idea aside as wishful thinking, he appears beside you, taking the spare water bottle from your hand with an amused smile.
"Are you overheating?" He presses the back of his hand to your forehead, his touch cool against your warm skin. You brush him off with a small smile, shaking away the thoughts that cloud your mind.
"I'm fine, Doctor." You manage. "You must have worked up quite an appetite. Let's get some lunch?"
The rest of the day flies by, filled with various team events and activities. Zayne gets along with everyone well, something you'd expected to happen, really. He's charming when he wants to be, and your colleagues seem to have accepted him effortlessly into the group. But around dinner time, everyone splits off for some alone time, and you and Zayne find yourselves on a solo date at a small restaurant overlooking the water.
"Should we cheers?" You hold your glass of wine up, the deep red liquid catching the candlelight. The food on your plate is mostly finished, and you feel warm and content, a pleasant buzz from the day and the company.
But Zayne hesitates, glancing at his wine glass almost nervously. His fingers wrap around the stem, but he doesn't lift it.
"I don't drink very often." He warns, a note of caution in his voice. "My tolerance is quite low."
"What, you can't have a single sip?" You smirk, emboldened by your own wine. "I never pegged you for such a lightweight, Zayne."
Something flickers in his eyes at the challenge, and he clinks his glass against yours. He lifts it to his lips and takes a small sip, his brows lifting slightly in surprise.
"It's sweet." He notes, glancing at the liquid as if reassessing it.
Before you can warn him to pace himself, he tips his head back and downs the rest of it in one smooth motion.
Well. At least a drunk Zayne would be interesting, right?
summary: The morning is fuzzy, but volleyball will clear your minds, right?
wc: 2.1k
series masterlist
The morning is warm. Golden sunlight pours into the room through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, and for a moment you're blissfully disoriented, trying to remember where you are and whose chest you're resting on.
Wait.
What?
You don't jerk away immediately. Mostly because you don't want to, but also because you can't. Zayne's grip around your waist is firm, his arm a solid weight anchoring you to him. His head rests on yours, his breath even, and you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek. There's no way out without waking him, and a traitorous part of you is deeply grateful for that.
Your body relaxes into him despite every rational thought screaming at you to move. It's alright, you can just savor this moment, right? It's not like it was a conscious thing. The two of you just happened to migrate closer in this ridiculously large bed, drawn together by some random gravitational pull. You cuddled like normal humans do. Completely platonic. Nothing to read into.
“Are you awake?”
If your heart wasn’t pounding before, it is now. His voice is rough with sleep, a low rumble that you feel as much as hear, and it sends a shiver down your spine that you desperately hope he doesn't notice.
“Y-yeah.” You admit, tilting your head up to look at him. His hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up in ways you've never seen, and his eyes are still half-lidded with exhaustion. It's the most unguarded you've ever seen him, no professional mask in sight. That's probably why he's made no move to let go of you yet.
“You had a nightmare last night. Do you remember what it was about?” His grip around your waist releases, so you reluctantly untangle yourself from him, though you try to hide your disappointment while you shift to face him. The loss of his warmth is immediate, and you have to resist the urge to reach for him again.
"Hmm…I don't think so." You search your memory, finding nothing. "I didn't say anything, right?" A sudden fear strikes your heart. What if you'd confessed something in your sleep? What if you'd murmured his name, whispered something that gave away the years of longing you'd carefully hidden?
But Zayne shakes his head, and the tension in your shoulders eases. "No, you didn't say anything comprehensible. But you seemed very agitated. You only calmed down once I moved closer.” If he finds anything odd about that, he doesn’t say.
Instead, he studies you for a long moment, and then slips out of bed. You hold back on trying to call out after him, to understand why, instead of waking you from the nightmare, he’d chosen to cradle you in his arms. And why he hadn’t wondered why it worked.
Of course, before you can linger on the thought, your phone buzzes.
Tara: Hope you’re feeling well rested! We’re gonna meet on the beach for team volleyball if you guys want to join <33
"Zayne?" You call out, propping yourself up on your elbows. "Some of my colleagues are going to play volleyball on the beach."
He peeks his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. You almost immediately cringe at your tone of voice, the way it had come out like you were asking for permission, like you needed his approval. But he doesn't comment.
"We can join them if you'd like?" A ghost of a smile plays on his face, and you feel your chest loosen. You'll take it. Really, you'd take anything he's willing to give.
After an only slightly awkward morning of getting dressed and tiptoeing around each other, both of you carefully avoiding eye contact as you pass each other in the small space, you head out for the beach.
The sun is high and warm, the sand soft beneath your sandals. Once again, Zayne takes your bag from you without asking, quieting your protests with an amused look. You know you should let him do boyfriend things, that it's part of the act, but something about it makes your heart ache every time. How were you supposed to go back to normal life after this? How were you supposed to return to friendly lunches and professional touches when you'd had this?
“Are those your friends?” Zayne points out a group of people, who soon spot you two and begin waving furiously.
“Yeah…that’s them.”
Not everyone had arrived in time for dinner last night, so you find yourself once again introducing Zayne to a new round of faces. You try not to cringe when someone asks for the story again, but Zayne swoops in before you can stumble through it, his hand finding the small of your back as he launches into the practiced tale. He's so smooth about it, so natural, that even you almost believe him.
"I figured you weren't going to come." Xavier's quiet voice pulls you from your thoughts, all of which center around the warmth of Zayne's hand on your back. You'd almost forgotten he was coming.
"Hm? Oh um…we didn't think Zayne would get the vacation time." You force a smile, hoping to hide your nerves. Xavier is annoyingly perceptive, and he's worked with you enough to know when you're lying. Hell, he can probably read it in the slight tremor of your voice and the way you won't quite meet his eyes. But he doesn't say anything.
"Who's this?" Zayne's hand slides from your back to your hip, pulling you just a fraction closer. You almost immediately go rigid, your breath catching in your throat. His palm is warm even through the thin fabric of your swimsuit coverup, and you can feel the imprint of his fingers like a brand. Xavier's brow raises at your clear surprise, and you mentally curse yourself.
"This is Xavier!" You say, too brightly. "I've mentioned him before, right? We go on a lot of missions together."
Zayne nods in understanding, though something flickers in his eyes, something you can't quite name. He doesn't seem as polite as he was last night, his handshake with Xavier brief and stiff before he moves just a little closer to you, his body angled to block you slightly.
Huh.
"Well um, we should go before they start volleyball without us, right? Come on Zayne!" You're quick to pull him away from the conversation, casting Xavier a pleading look over your shoulder, one that says please don't tell anyone this isn't actually my boyfriend. He nods, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch, fighting a smile.
You thought you knew almost everything about Zayne. But what he never mentioned that he was incredible at volleyball.
"This is hardly fair! I demand a rematch!" Simone complains as Zayne once again spikes the ball, managing to score the winning point. The ball hits the sand with a satisfying thud, and the opposing team groans in defeat.
You cheer, high-fiving him as your team celebrates around you. He hadn't lost a single point, in every match. His reflexes were insane, his aim impeccable, and he moved across the sand with an athletic grace that left you breathless every time.
It was so hot. And not temperature wise.
"I'd be happy to play again," Zayne says to Simone, his tone almost teasing, "but I suspect a similar outcome."
You grin at him, trying not to let your gaze linger too long on his outfit. Well, if you could call loosely slung board shorts and nothing else an outfit. The sun catches the water droplets on his skin, tracing the lines of his shoulders and chest, and you have to physically force yourself to look away before you start drooling.
"I'll grab some water. Start preparing our victory speech." You smile, turning to head over to the cooler as he sits down under an umbrella, accepting a towel from one of your colleagues.
"Here." Xavier props open the cooler for you, helping you dig through the ice for some water bottles. You can feel his gaze on you as you take a sip, assessing you. With a heavy sigh, you give up.
"Were we that obvious?" You murmur, eyes downcast as you pick at the label on your bottle.
"Not at first." Xavier shrugs, leaning casually against the plastic cooler. "But I always kiss my girlfriend after we win, and you two only ever high five.”
He points it out so casually, so matter-of-factly, that it takes a moment for the implication to land. Your eyes flit over to Zayne, who's nodding along to Simone's dramatic reenactment of her match against Xavier, her hands flying as she describes his "unfair" serves.
He meets your eyes across the sand, his head tilting ever so slightly when he notices you standing frozen with the water bottle in hand. You wave, a small gesture, and he nods back before returning his attention to Simone.
You move to stand up, ready to head back, when Xavier's voice stops you.
"You should know…he isn't faking."
For a moment, you just stare at him. The words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Surely he isn't saying what you think he's saying? Surely he can't mean-
"Xavier I don't think-”
"Trust me." Xavier's expression is unreadable, but his voice is certain. "If you're worried he doesn't feel the same way, you shouldn't be."
He shrugs, like he hasn't just upended your entire world, and stands up, dusting the sand off his shorts. You're left dumbfounded as he simply walks away, joining his partner under their umbrella with an easy motion.
You take another sip of water just to give yourself something to do, your mind reeling. Maybe Zayne had been a little…different lately. The hand-holding that lingered a second too long. The sandwiches made exactly the way you liked them. The way he'd held you through the night. But he was just helping you out, right? Being a good friend and definitely a good fake boyfriend.
Then again…why was he keeping the act up when the two of you were alone? No one was watching when he made sure your nightmare stopped, when he tucked his jacket around your shoulders. That wasn't for show.
Was it seriously possible that Zayne actually wanted to be your boyfriend?
Before you can toss the idea aside as wishful thinking, he appears beside you, taking the spare water bottle from your hand with an amused smile.
"Are you overheating?" He presses the back of his hand to your forehead, his touch cool against your warm skin. You brush him off with a small smile, shaking away the thoughts that cloud your mind.
"I'm fine, Doctor." You manage. "You must have worked up quite an appetite. Let's get some lunch?"
The rest of the day flies by, filled with various team events and activities. Zayne gets along with everyone well, something you'd expected to happen, really. He's charming when he wants to be, and your colleagues seem to have accepted him effortlessly into the group. But around dinner time, everyone splits off for some alone time, and you and Zayne find yourselves on a solo date at a small restaurant overlooking the water.
"Should we cheers?" You hold your glass of wine up, the deep red liquid catching the candlelight. The food on your plate is mostly finished, and you feel warm and content, a pleasant buzz from the day and the company.
But Zayne hesitates, glancing at his wine glass almost nervously. His fingers wrap around the stem, but he doesn't lift it.
"I don't drink very often." He warns, a note of caution in his voice. "My tolerance is quite low."
"What, you can't have a single sip?" You smirk, emboldened by your own wine. "I never pegged you for such a lightweight, Zayne."
Something flickers in his eyes at the challenge, and he clinks his glass against yours. He lifts it to his lips and takes a small sip, his brows lifting slightly in surprise.
"It's sweet." He notes, glancing at the liquid as if reassessing it.
Before you can warn him to pace himself, he tips his head back and downs the rest of it in one smooth motion.
Well. At least a drunk Zayne would be interesting, right?
After your rocky first meeting with the EonCore Tech Chairman and head of the werewolf clan, a cursory scan of your Hunter's Watch database tells you that werewolves, like their animal counterpart, mate for life.
Unfortunately, this doesn't explain why Valko wants to mate with a human—you.
CONTENT: 18+, hybrid x human, knotting, scent kink/scenting, enemies to lovers except valko has never once considered you his enemy, oversized puppy-coded valko, mildly-tsundere reader, fated mates, manhandling, size difference, one line breeding kink mention, 5.3k words.
MEL'S NOTE: as a little girl, i always knew i wanted a werewolf for my fated soulmate. (aka valko's trailer dropped, i wrote over 4k words, got interrupted by my period lmao, and then infold decided to slime him a few days later. it felt wrong to let this fic rot away in my drafts, so... here it is lol. rip valko. you will be very missed, sweet puppy! i wish we could've met you TᴖT)
READ ON AO3
The forest is surprisingly comfortable.
You didn't expect it, given how your own experiences with the wilderness have been limited to missions and wanderer-hunting, with very little time to appreciate the beauty of nature when you're fighting for your life.
But it is… Beautiful.
Deep, viridian-covered branches tangle together high above your head and form a dense canopy, letting through only a smattering of sunlight, much like stars dotting a night sky. Somewhere off to your right, a family of birds sink to each other. You can't help but wonder what they're saying as you breathe in deep lungfuls of air so clean you could cry. And beneath your back, the floor is soft. Not mattress-soft or brushed-cotton-soft. But spongey and forgiving, a bed of leaves cushioning your spine like one would cradle a babe.
You wonder if Valko picked this spot on purpose. If he knows every square inch of this forest and decided to fuck you here. Where the earth feels kind. Where your noises tangle together until they become part of the forest's symphony, indistinguishable from the crying animal you can hear in the distance, or the gentle thrush of dancing branches. Valko called the forest "his" when he found you. Not his home, not his territory... Just his. As though everything from the dirt in the cracks of your shoes to the skyward-reaching boughs were drawn forth from his very being.
You wonder, too, if any part of the forest could be yours. If you ask, would he let you own a part of him? A tree to name as though a person, a free-flying bird to clutch in your palm, a patch of bright flowers to doze in.
A fool's dream.
Because, while only a matter of days has passed since your first meeting, you've been reliving the memory of it in horror, when caught on the brink of wakefulness and sleep. The feeling of his large body giving way to you and hitting the dusty ground, supine. You—triumphant in every way, straddled atop him like an animal.
Then, worse.
Much worse.
Valko's face beside yours. The agonisingly pleasant drag of his nose behind your ear. A deep inhale—guttered like a candle flame, followed by a disbelieving, "Your scent..."—entirely impossible to forget. The whole interaction set your head spinning. So wrongly intimate in the middle of a battlefield, his every touch melting down into reverence where he held you against him. And each time you recall the memory, your reaction is different.
One time, you push him away as soon as his hold tightens, scrambling to your feet, features marred with disgust.
Another, you grab the burgundy hair at his nape and smash your mouth into his.
Only this morning, did you press the barrel of your pistol against his temple and threaten to pull the trigger.
In reality, however, you didn't fight back. You didn't reciprocate, either. You merely just let him touch you, smell you, hold you like a lover and not an enemy he'd met all of ten minutes prior.
Shame rushes to meet you as though the dam of your resistance has finally crumbled. Because here you are—beneath Valko. Drawn in by his claims of "fated mates" and big, puppy dog eyes. On another mission entirely, yet you were hunted down within minutes of your arrival in his territory.
You tried to resist.
Sort of.
But deep inside you, there was a pull. A string tied around your heart. Pulled just enough to make you take a step forward towards him. Another. And another. Until you were grabbing desperately at his stupid, big shoulders and kissing him with a ferocity that surprised even you—as though you hadn't taken a breath since you left him, and the meeting of your lips was akin to surfacing from deep water. Valko handled you easily, didn't bat an eyelid at the familiar way you fell into him, and used all that irritating strength of his to swoop you up and bring you here.
Though where here is exactly, you wouldn't be able to say.
"You're such a big brute," you pant, a palm thumping at his shoulder blade like your anxious, horny energy has no other outlet but violence.
Sweat drips onto your cheek in lieu of a comeback. You flinch, grimacing, and then flinch again when you feel the sudden rush of arousal accompanying it. There's nothing sexy about an idiot who can't decide whether he wants to be a man or a wolf, and definitely nothing about the aforementioned idiot sweating all over you.
Valko drags his nose up. Sniffs behind your ear. Groans and thrusts into you deeper. "You smell so good, pup."
You groan, too, decidedly more annoyed than Valko. "Don't call me that! You're not even listening!"
"I am," he says, clearly distracted by the way you clench around him a second later. "Fuck... What are you doing to me?"
"I'm not doing—" You toss your head back onto the soft ground when he tilts his hips, hitting your g-spot with frightening accuracy. "—haaah-anything! You stupid dog!"
Valk's mouth dips immediately down into the cavern of your throat, tongue licking wet and hot up the rungs of your trachea. Your stomach swoops when you feel a faint scratch—almost like those canines of his are teasing your skin, sharp and gleaming, and able to tear your throat out in an instant.
"Wolf," he growls lowly.
"Whatever." Venom seeps back into your voice. You feel humiliated to have given in as easily as you did. Even more so at how capable Valko is of fucking any sane thought from your brain. "I don't think wolves are supposed to fuck humans."
Valko lets out a sharp rumble from deep in his chest. You can feel it reverberate straight through you, plastered to him as vines crawling up a dawn redwood would be.
"Pretty sure it's a— ngh! Violation of some animal welfare law."
"Werewolf," Valko corrects a heartbeat later, the point of an ear flicking against your chin.
You brace yourself when you feel another brush of pointy teeth, ready for them to sink into your flesh like a meal, overdue and mouthwatering. There would be no fight. None that you would win, anyhow.
Dragging a large, overheated palm down your flank, Valko slips it beneath your lower back. You have barely a second to guess at what he's attempting before you're unceremoniously lifted, hips inches from the ground, suspended there while he ruts into you. You gasp at the new angle, at the humiliating stretch of his thick cock pounding into your dripping cunt. A boot-covered foot lands on the back of his thigh. You can't help but hold on for dear life, even as your head swims with mortification.
You never do this—fuck someone you barely know.
A gasp. Eyelids fluttering as he strokes deep inside you. A big, shaggy tail thumping your shin rhythmically.
Is it always this good?
"You were looking for me," Valko murmurs into your sweaty neck.
Startled, you grab his shoulders and push. Valko lifts his head obediently. But, and here's the real kicker, he's fucking huge. Broad shoulders that cover half your vision when you tip your head down to stare at him incredulously. Thick, wide torso pinning you to the ground. You almost lose your nerve. But then he's panting in your face, breath hitting hot against your lips, and you have to say something, anything, or you'll end up kissing him again.
"No, I wasn't! I'm supposed to be—" a strangled moan "—on a mission. Finding a wanderer! Not..."
The end of your sentence eludes your fuzzy brain, as does any thought besides how Valko's stroke game might actually kill you.
Valko shakes his head, veering closer. You go cross-eyed. He bumps his forehead into yours, and the new point of contact is another fraying thread of your sanity, one more layering of molten arousal settling over your body like a suffocating fire blanket. You half-wonder if Valko has some special werewolf vision when he stares at you intently enough to frighten—if his vision isn't blurred like yours. If you look as stupidly fucked out as you feel right now, also.
Slowing his hips into a deep, torturous roll, he knocks his nose into yours playfully.
"Not you," he emphasises, and you feel his lips brush yours. A feather's kiss. Then, another hand—the one not hiking your hips incrementally higher by the second—slips beneath your nape, big fingers cupping the back of your head, a thumb stroking over the corner of your jaw. You almost moan, still baffled at his size. At the easy way he's moving you, and the sheer span of his hands, his shoulders, his hips. You swallow the incriminating noise instead. "Your soul. I could feel it, pup. Howling at me. Haah— Asking me to find you."
You exhale shakily. "You're crazy."
"Not crazy," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours firmer. He repeats himself, hushed yet solemn, "Not crazy."
You swallow the stone trapped in your throat. Feel it sink into your stomach with a final, echoing thump.
"I felt you. Different from how I feel you now."
Your lips part around a question before your brain has a chance to catch up. "What did you feel?"
"Hunger," comes Valko's immediate reply, as though he doesn't even have to think about it. As though he's telling the truth. "Loneliness. Hope. Confusion. Everything." Valko's voice drops into a raw note, like he's being flayed further open by each word he chooses to share, but he couldn't bear to keep them to himself despite it. "All of it."
You gasp, back arching up into the wall of his chest. Valko's fingertips dig into your lower back, and he pulls you up into him further, like it won't be enough until you climb inside his skin.
"Your soul was the deepest silence and the most beautiful song I've heard in my life."
Tears prick at your eyes, and your vitriol vanishes with enough pace to leave you breathless. The string tied around your heart pulls taut, lurching up into your throat. Valko knows. He must do. Because the corner of his eyes softens, solid gold melting into liquid, and he regards you so fondly that you feel pinned under the weight of his veneration, despite Valko knowing only your nasty words and the unfaltering pressure of your limbs.
"There is a forest inside you," Valko says, awed, big ears turning towards your expression as though able to hear its idiosyncrasies.
Arousal and some unidentified emotion—heavy and foundational and undeniably trusting—fight for control, welling up inside your chest until they crush your every heaving breath. Valko slows his hips until he's only grinding deep inside you, pubis pressing against your clit in a way that sends a frisson of heat dancing up your spine.
"Valko," you whimper, voice breaking from his words or the intimate grind of his cock, you have no idea.
Palm sliding from your nape to the side of your neck, Valko's thumb drags adoringly along your jaw until it finds its home— right below the softness of your bottom lip. He pulls it down slightly, and your mouth parts without thought.
Valko pours his words into its cavernous reaches, "I can hear it now."
Every inch of you is matted with sweat. Valko runs hot. So hot you're losing your mind, wrapped in his balmy embrace, being fucked by his big cock, spoken to in a tone so sweet and so low your heart fractures and remakes itself into newness.
"Your soul stretched out and sank its claws deep into my flesh from the very first moment we met, little hunter. I didn't have a choice. I had to find you again." His eyes flutter closed, pained. "I had to."
You whimper again—an open, vulnerable noise crawling up from the base of your throat entirely unfamiliar to you. You've never made a noise like this before. But now you can't stop. More follow. Tiny, wounded things that only make Valko clutch you tighter, roll his hips deeper. In turn, only deepening your delirium—until you're more animal than human. Until your nails are sinking deep into his shoulders and your mouth is finding his once more, darkness engulfing you.
Hissing at the prick of pain, Valko reciprocates without hesitation, and within seconds, it dissolves into a contented, humming moan. Valko tilts his head and licks into your mouth like he's tasting what you ate for breakfast, tongue flicking along the flat rows of your teeth. His mouth opens further, coaxing yours to mirror him, and he releases this breathy sound of astonishment into you.
"Sw't," he says, muffled against your lips—backing away barely enough for the syllables to be heard before he's meeting you again, like two souls clashing in an open field. You keen, loud, and your hips jerk in place when he nips at you, light and teasing and familiar. You're rewarded with a laugh. This time, he does part from you, but not before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Sweet, sweet thing."
"Shut up," you mumble quietly, all the fight drained out of you.
"You're trouble, though. I can tell." The corner of Valko's eyes crinkles. "Seen plenty of it before."
You try to grumble, but his big hand hikes your hips higher, and he's everywhere—outside you, inside you—and you can do nothing but take what he's giving you with the faint notion that you're not going to be able to live without this—him—once it's over. That he's changing your fundamentals, cock driving deep inside you and rearranging what you once were.
"'m not trouble-nghhh!" you retort, gasping around the word 'trouble' when he pulls his hips back and slams into you, punishingly hard despite the tender hold he has on you, as though you could be blown over by a gust of wind and shattered in the middle of this forest.
"I got you, little hunter, I got you."
"Valko, ohmygod, there!"
"Here?" he asks, hammering into the spot that's making you see stars, or maybe that's just the canopy light flashing in your wet vision.
"Yesyesyes," you chant, chest heaving.
"So pretty."
You barely hear it. Blood roaring in your ears, brain a soupy mess. There's not much of anything left but the feeling of his thick cock carving a home for himself into your cunt, wet noises echoing above the din of the forest.
"My mate."
Your whole body shudders. No way. Not this again. You can't be. You're many, many things: wrong and volatile and above all—human.
"Ma-ah! Mate?"
Valko nods, coming to nose under your jaw.
"No! No, Valko, I'm not— I'm…"
"Mine."
"Human!"
"Mine."
"Valko, please," you whine, tears filling your eyes. "I'm not who you're looking for. I'm not! You don't know me. You don't want me. Not past today—not for the rest of your life."
A mean thrust. The tears spill.
"This is just instincts," you argue weakly. "Your stupid werewolf wires crossing and—"
"We are all just instincts," Valko cuts in, not unkindly. Not condescendingly. Just stating it like the simple, breathless fact it supposedly is before dipping down to kiss you again. You clench around Valko so hard his tail thwacks the thigh you have hooked around his waist.
Traitorously, your brain whispers: What were you driven by when you first kissed Valko, if not your instincts?
"V'lk'," you speak, muffled against his mouth.
You're ignored. But you have bigger issues, namely, how the heat is eating you alive. So imposing it's a physical weight, melting you into Valko's hold—and it all seems to be emanating out from where you're joined. An orgasm creeping up on your heels, molten fire right behind it—waiting to engulf you for good. You can barely move your hips to meet his quick thrusts, settling for half-heartedly twitching as he pounds into you. Held up by nothing but his strength alone, what feels like it could be miles from the soft forest bed.
Licking into your mouth, Valko doesn't hear you. Not until you slide a hand to the front of his shoulder and push once more. He doesn't budge an inch, but you get his attention. He leans back to peer at you—all big, round eyes and flushed face, sweat beading along his temple—and yet somehow, he looks more composed than you feel. At once, self-consciousness rises like a tide.
"You're confused," you blurt anyway, forcing the emotion away.
Valko smiles, a gentle curve utterly undoing. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life."
And that…
It unmakes you. Strips back those petal-shaped layers you've been clutching as though they were impenetrable armour. Bares you to the forest, to him, to yourself. Effortlessly. So unassuming that you didn't notice, not until you're lying there—an open, gaping wound.
Sinking lower, Valko's voice is a smooth stone drifting from the mouth of a river into open ocean. "My mate."
"Yours," you breathe quietly, as though a tone too loud will wash away its meaning. As though it's a secret to be guarded between you, Valko, and the forest.
Valko's expression flies through a myriad of colours in an instant. Then, your pussy flutters around his cock and his face lands on hunger. Bending down, he brushes his nose on your temple again, slides his chest against yours—rubbing skin in a way that, to you, seems to have no aim but contact. He presses his nose into your hair and breathes in deeply.
"You smell like me."
Valko's thick cock splits you open, and your hips are held so high your legs kick in the air.
You suck in a heaving breath, see-sawing between the syrupy mess of your thoughts and the heat consuming you. "W-what?"
Brushing his temple against yours, he laughs. Though the sound is thin and strained. "Nothing."
You want to chase it up, to push him, truly you do. But then, he's anchoring a forearm on the ground by your head and using it as leverage to fuck into you even harder, each snap of his hips sending pleasure skittering up your spine. Your toes curl against his thighs, and the heat becomes a roaring inferno.
"Valko," you whimper again.
The man drags his nose back across your cheek, brushes it against yours. Leans back to catch your lidded gaze. You stare up at him blearily, at the way he's your entire field of vision. Blown-out pupils drink you in as he asks, "What is it, pup?"
You seize up at the nickname this time—muscles locking and breath stalling in your chest like the moment existing before a vacuum consumes everything the next—and cum. Silent for the briefest of moments before your voice crawls up your throat, ruined. A string of keening gasps, underlined with these scratchy moans from deep in your chest. Your fingernails dig into Valko's shoulders, desperate for a moor.
Yet, he doesn't stop.
Fucks you through it with a surprising ferocity, even as his hips begin to stutter.
"So sweet," he moans, staring down at you, face the same colour as his hair. His ears twitch madly atop his head, like he can't decide which sounds of yours to focus on—your tiny, gasping whimpers or the wet shtick of his cock pounding your pussy. "All for me."
Your orgasm feels as though it's dragging you down into its depths, your pleasure turning high and painful, though no less mind-numbing. You cry out when Valko's cock brushes against your G-spot so soon, and then cry again when Valko decides to repeat the action.
You slide a hand up his nape, panicked, nails dragging harsh lines. "Valko, ah— wait—"
Valko's hips snap into you reflexively.
"Ohmygod," he whines. Whines. Like he's not the big bad leader of the werewolf clan. As though he's not the one fucking you to tears.
You freeze at the sound.
"Please," he gasps out. "Again."
Then, you watch from a body that's not your own as you obey, orgasm still lapping at your core. Your other hand drags sharp lines along his muscled shoulder and up into his nape, through the soft, cropped mess of his hair. Pain-pleasure frisks your skin. Valko buries his head in the hollow of your throat, and you can feel him panting there, open-mouthed.
"Again."
You want to tease. To find your words and call him bossy, demanding and stupid. All traits that should never be endearing and yet here you are, unequivocally endeared. Instead, you splay your finger tips wide across the back of his skull—thumbs tucked behind his human ears—and drag your nails along his scalp, up to his crown.
Valko shudders as though abruptly caught in a winter breeze.
"Haah—"
Your fingertip strokes up the back of a wolf-ear, the fur silky soft beneath your touch. You can feel it twitching in response. A thumb rises to join it, pressing up the warm, fleshy inside.
"Pup, I'm-nghhh—"
Meanwhile, your free hand moves curiously around the base of his other wolf ear, gauging where the human ends and the werewolf begins. You press a finger firmly to the divide, and pet it back and forth.
Both ears flick as though to brush away your fingers, before pinning back against his head right as he pants out, "Closeclose—"
Valko hunches over you, sharp teeth nipping at your neck. You jump. Instinctively ducking your head to protect your neck. Whining again, Valko makes a wounded sound as though denied—though denied what, you don't have the brain capacity to work out. You tip your head further back on instinct. Valko groans, half-fearful, and he stops fucking you abruptly.
You take the chance to catch your breath.
"Don't—" Valko, panic-stricken.
A graze of teeth.
In your gut, you know you shouldn't fight him—so you don't. You surrender yourself, forcefully relaxing your body. Both hands tangled in his soft hair and around his spasming ears like they're sacred. You let out a low whine from the base of your throat, and Valko punches out a wounded whine of his own, perfectly dizzying.
"Valko, please," you gasp, not even sure what you're begging for at this point.
"I can't— ohfuck—"
You're immediately distracted by a weird sensation. Fullness. A pleasant stretch edging into slightly painful.
"Valko, what is—"
His hips start into a shallow grind, keeping his entire cock inside you. You glance up to see his ears flick back again, flat to his skull.
"'m sorry, 'm sorry–"
Your pussy is forced wider around Valko's cock. Something swelling—inflating—inside you, a sensation so jarring you scrabble at his hair as pure alarm lances your heart. You try to draw your hips back, but the hand beneath your lower back keeps you where you are, despite the apologies he continues to murmur against your neck.
"Sorry, pup, 'm sorry, 'm sor—"
"Ow, ow— Valko— it hurts," you protest, staring up into the canopy. Then, you angle your head down uselessly to try to catch his gaze.
"I didn't mean to, you just smell so… and you're acting like… like that. And you don't even know what it's doing to me," he replies, tight and panicked.
"Valko!" You thump at his back, nervous in equal measure at his tone.
"You have to—" he grunts when you clench around him, "—relax."
Your voice climbs higher. "Relax?!"
"Jesus, pup, please. Stop squeezing me."
"I can't," you cry, tears welling up again as Valko's dick keeps inflating. You're going to be split open, sharp heat will slice you in two. Your back arches up into him. "Ahhh— fuck, Valko!"
Valko lets out a devastated gasp. His head tips to the side until his cheek rests on your shoulder, hot breath panting across the front of your throat.
"What is happening?!"
Your hunter's watch didn't say anything about stupid werewolf dick having the ability to enlarge at will.
"'s my-haah— my knot."
Valko slides his hips forward, forcing your pussy to stretch wider around him. You make a hysterical sound.
"What does that even mean?!"
"I can't… can't think."
Your voice runs ragged. "Not helpful!"
"I mnnn-know!"
You kick the back of his thigh and whimper as the movement causes him to shift deeper. His tail falls still, a strip of warmth across your leg.
"Stop-ah— moving."
"Pull out!"
Valko grunts.
"Valko, pull out!"
"Pup, I can't," he argues, strained.
"What do you mean you can't, bastard? Pull! Out!"
Valko lets out a low, disgruntled sound. Before holding you carefully and drawing his hips back, so slowly you swear he's actively trying to piss you off further. Then, you feel it. A sore stretch returns, until it dips into sheer, mind-numbing pain so fast you yelp, sucking in a wet breath and attempting to draw your legs towards your body, despite the hulking man spreading you open. Valko stills immediately, slipping back into your heat with a moan of pure relief. You echo it as the pain subsides and the size of Valko becomes more manageable again.
"See?" he asks lowly.
You nod dazedly, still catching your breath. You're starting to adjust, but the stretch still burns something fiery, even as pleasure begins to lick at the wound.
"What the fuck…" you mumble to yourself.
You clench around him, testing, and Valko groans. You do, too, when the pain flares again, a sweeping wave of arousal following close behind.
Then, a strike of clarity: "You still haven't cum."
You feel unsettled at the notion, deeply so.
"Working on it," Valko huffs, voice rough.
"Don't sound too excited."
"Are you always this mouthy?" A beat of silence, then an agitated twitch of a wolf ear. "Actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know."
You roll your eyes but soften your voice.
"There's no one to tell you about," you admit.
Valko stills. "Pup…"
"What?" you snap, immediately falling back on the defensive.
Valko moans again, for no discernible reason. Sighing irritably, you thump your head back onto the ground, only for Valko to make another heated noise into your neck. You bristle at not understanding what's even setting him off.
"Seriously! What's wrong with you?"
Valko sighs. Shifts his hips. Exhales at the hitch in your breath. "I like a bit of a fight in my prey."
"Fuck off," you respond.
"Yeah," he laughs, undeniably fond, which is objectively crazy. You've known this man for a matter of days. An hour, if you count the time you've actually spent in his company. You grip his hair tighter and listen to his laughter peter out. "There you are."
Valko rocks his hips once, testing, and when you do no more than punch out a tiny exhale, he does it again. And again. Rocking into your tight heat just enough to drive you insane. Just enough to drive him insane if his noises are anything to go by, too. These pained, throaty whines, tangled in gasps, serve only to set your nerves alight. For someone so big and imposing, the muted desperation in his voice is enough to have your hips twitching again.
"God, you feel so—"
You clench around him and he rewards you for it, a drawn-out whine echoing in the quiet of the forest.
"Pup— 'm gonna—"
Valko fucks inside you once, twice, bares his teeth to the softness of your neck. You drag your nails down his scalp and wrap your fingers around his nape, thumbs brushing the corner of his jaw.
"—closecloseclose—"
You lift his face and press your lips together. All it takes is a comforting whine, a melding of the words you cannot find into baseless sound, and Valko is cumming. Pouring his heat into your mouth, your cunt, warm spurts of cum filling you up.
There's no wrongness to be found.
No gut feeling to swoop your high away. Only a deep-seated satisfaction that you're safe, cared for. That right now, nothing could matter more than the man trapped inside you. You part your lips wider and lick into his mouth, happily swallowing his flustered sounds as he rides out his orgasm—hips twitching abortedly into your heat.
Peaceful, you would call it, despite how laughable the notion is—being split open on a werewolf's cock and finding the peace you've been searching for your entire life.
Then, he slumps atop you, deadweight. Head dropping into the ground above your shoulder as he lowers your body, none-too-gently, back down to the forest floor.
"Oof— Valko, I can't— breathe," you wheeze when the weight of him settles over you like an anvil, palms slapping his back uselessly.
He grunts, an ear-flick indicating that he hears you. But he doesn't move.
"Valko!"
A sigh—long-suffering, which you don't quite understand when he's only had to suffer through your presence all of a whopping hour since you met him.
Tucking a hand above your ass to keep his cock lodged inside you, Valko rolls onto his back with little fanfare. You make a startled noise and prop yourself up before you can crush him, wincing at the burn of arousal making itself known. You would let him fuck you again if he wanted. You refuse to say as much, though.
Valko whines in discontent, and a big arm wraps around your waist to coax you downwards. You settle without a fuss, pressing a cheek into the hollow of his throat.
"Good," he mumbles quietly, a big hand petting down the length of your spine.
Shivers break out across your skin at the sensation, and you melt into a languid mess atop his chest between one heartbeat and the next. You don't know why. There's no reasonable explanation for the serenity being housed in your ribs, but it is there all the same.
You shift slightly before finding your voice.
"I don't think my landlord allows wolves," you say quietly, a fingertip tracing inane patterns on his chest.
Valko laughs, the slow rise and fall of his chest becoming an earthquake beneath your touch.
"I promise they won't even know I'm there," he eventually says, with only the lingering traces of amusement to be found in his voice. A palm squeezes your nape.
You scoff, disbelieving. While the forest was convenient for his little werewolf fuckfest, you're not confident your apartment is insulated for such endeavours. Valko crowds you tighter, like he senses your thoughts and is offended by them.
A heartbeat later: "How long are we stuck like this for?"
Valko hums, thinking. Gives a small shrug. Leans forward to inhale a deep lungful of you behind your ear before replying, "About thirty minutes."
You try to sit up. "Thirty minutes?!"
Pressing you back down easily, Valko doesn't even bother opening his eyes. "Gotta wait for it to take."
In all fairness, you don't put up much of a fight.
"For it to…?" you mouth silently, eyebrows furrowed.
Then, a lightbulb.
Oh.
Oh.
Arousal rushes to meet you with all the force of a brick wall going g-force, and you wrinkle your nose, feigning nonchalance despite the waver which threatens your credibility. Werewolves can't smell emotions, right? "You're disgusting."
Valko laughs, and you shake with it. "Whatever you say, pup."
Lying back on his chest, you bite the inside of your cheek and let your mind drift.
Do humans feel it too? you wonder. Their fated mate?
But the answer is painfully clear—past those layers, stripped back by Valko with all the ease of a scythe slicing through reeds, and past the unfettering drum of your pulse.
Your heart belongs to Valko.
And maybe it always has. Long, long before the world decided it was time for the two of you to meet. So, you bury your head deeper underneath Valko's chin, slotting into him like a missing puzzle piece, and exist within the forest's song.
Together, at last.
‹‹ MASTERLIST
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SIDENOTE: there is a fan-created website to archive valko's promotional materials and guide players on how to contact infold to appeal their decision. please consider checking it out here if you are interested :) much love!
late nights used to be valko's best friend. it's his most productive time, after all. it's always been that way, that his best ideas and innovation came in the early hours of the morning.
but now? when he has you, no doubt curled up all cosy in bed, embellishing his sheets with that deliciously intoxicating scent of yours? it has him questioning what on earth he's doing in his home office at such a time.
he lets out a low huff, dangerously close to a characteristically wolfish growl as he half puts his things away with far more aggression than necessary. then, he's locking the door to the room behind him, fur hair bristling as he heads to the bathroom to wash up for bed.
only a little roughness lingers by the time he's gently opening the bedroom door - with his enhanced vision, he can comfortably make out where your sleeping form is under the duvet. he pads over, slipping under the covers, ready to pull you close, awaiting the moment where you wrap your arms around him in your sleep.
(it's his favourite thing, how you do it without thinking, your subconscious tugging you towards him just like how his pulls him to you.)
only, your arms are... occupied, it would seem.
a plushie. your round yellow ducky plushie, nestled into your arms like it belongs there.
valko frowns, humming so low in the back of his throat that it sounds like a threat.
he reaches towards you, fingers sliding between your arm and the soft fabric, ready to prise it away.
only for you - traitor - to hum happily in your sleep and nuzzle the damned plushie closer into your chest.
he flexes and extends his fingers like he's readying his claws.
no. you'll be upset if he destroys it, and he certainly doesn't want that.
fine.
he scoops your body into his embrace, plushie and all (begrudgingly), and shoves his face into your neck, sniffing and kissing and nipping at the delicate skin. you squirm in your sleep, until you eventually wake up to the feeling of being thoroughly loved upon (and scented) by your wolfie.
"mmm... val, what're y'doin'?..." you murmur, shifting the plushie so it isn't obstructing you from hugging valko close instead, a clear upgrade. he visibly perks up; even in the darkness, it's like you can feel something in him shift to happiness from the sheer exhaustion of the preceding moments.
"my little wolf was neglecting me." his words come out teasing, muffled into your skin as he presses his nose into your neck. "not very nice of you, babe. i've been working so hard all evening, only to be replaced by a plushie."
"mm, maybe you should've come to bed sooner, then." you try to sound feisty, but it just exposes the truth - how badly you want him by your side, and how you hate sleeping with his side of the bed empty. then, you're shifting so you're sprawled top of him, and you plant a kiss on his cheek before tucking your head under his chin.
"looks like i need to do a little better next time 'round, then." he muses, his usual cockiness subdued a little by an affection that warms you to the bone. one hand comes to splay over your lower back in a loosely protective hold, while the other drapes over your waist, fingers kneading your soft skin.
"mhm." you agree. "shouldn't be workin' so late, val, should be here with me." your soft murmur is half a confession, but truthfully, it's nothing he didn't know; nothing he wasn't already acutely aware of, in the very fibres in his being, in the soul-tether that binds you to him.
"i know. i'm sorry." he says, voice low and achingly sincere. "tomorrow, baby. tomorrow, i'll be here. by your side. i promise."
a/n: first valko post!! deepest apologies for my long absence - exam season had me going insane but im free now with lots in the drafts! also spot the teeny tiny raf/valko rivalry ref hehe anyways hope you enjoyed mwah ily
NOTE || anything i've written for sylus is located in this masterlist. It's ordered from newest to oldest and includes: one-shots (over 1k words) and ficlets (under 1k words) and any future series i may or may not write >.<
➻ Caleb masterlist ✧ Zayne masterlist ✧ Other fics
ONE SHOTS
✧ = fluff || ♡ ︎= smut/suggestive || ☾ = angst
✧ ♡ When One Door Closes.. | ao3 | celebrating sylus' birthday again! ..while trapped in an elevator
✧ ☾ Road to Ruin | you and Sylus are part of rival motorcycle clubs
✧ ♡ Bloodlust | ao3 | you make a deal with the devil Archfiend Sovereign, offering him your blood and... yourself
✧ best laid plans | all the cliches you need in one place: historical AU, marriage of convenience, and not-so-secret kisses
✧ Draped in Devotion | you're feeling a little insecure tonight, sylus sets out to fix that
✧ cut throat | a spar match with sylus goes from knives to hands to mouths
✧ ☾ Give me your desire | ao3 | what if sylus was in the k-pop demon hunters universe?
✧ hoodie | ao3 | all the perks of sylus in a hoodie
✧ Raised Stakes | Kitty Cards (strip poker edition)
✧ Behind Closed Doors | ao3 | celebrating sylus' birthday! ...while trapped in a closet
☾ a soul cast in shadow | ao3 | modern day sylus discovers u love dragons
✧ for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you | ao3 | pininggg
✧ between the strokes of midnight | new years first kiss fluff
✧ Under Pressure | your boyfriend walks in mid-check up with zayne
✧ A Dragon's Sacrifice | ao3 | dragon man gets humbled by a cat
☾ Crimson Destruction | the actual worst possible scenario happens
♡ Covetous | ao3 | dragon!sylus in all his fiendish glory
✧ Beauty versus Beast | sylus being the beautiful beast he is
✧ Less Than Enemies | he really likes to watch you during combat
FICLETS
✧ kitten | you really wish he didn't use that nickname
➻➻ part II | you really wish you hadn't heard his voice
✧☾ sylus stitches up your bullet wound
✧ sweetie | you accidentally call sylus 'sweetie' for the first time
✧ shiver | you take care of sylus while he's sick
♡ hibernation | just you, sylus, and your nest in the winter
✧ ☾ thin ice | the twins (and you) have some explaining to do
NOTE || anything i've written for zayne is located in this masterlist. It's ordered from newest to oldest and includes: one-shots (over 1k words) and ficlets (under 1k words) and any future series i may or may not write >.<
➻ Sylus masterlist ✧ Caleb masterlist ✧ Other fics
ONE SHOTS
✧ = fluff || ♡ ︎= smut/suggestive || ☾ = angst
✧ Learned by Heart | ao3 | Zayne becomes a bigger nerd so he can impress you
✧ I See You | ao3 | 5 times Zayne misidentifies an object because of his poor eyesight + the 1 time he gets it right
✧ Fire Away | ao3 | archery lessons from your favorite teacher, the God of Annihilation
♡ Supplication | ao3 | you present yourself as an offering to Zayne, the God of Annihilation
✧♡ Too Close Not to Touch | ao3 | you and zayne spend the polar night snowed into a cabin
FICLETS
✧ well-equipped | you come to terms with zayne's chest being bigger than yours
✧♡ honey | just another day of helping zayne battle his sweets addiction
✧☾ frostbitten | you and zayne visit your old friends: the seals at the aquarium
✧ sweater weather | yvonne discovers just how much zayne likes to dress you in his warm clothing
♡ sweet heat | bath time with zayne
☾ when winter meets spring | star-crossed lovers where zayne is a winter sprite who falls for a spring faerie
Everything is feeling a little heavy, but that's alright because Valko is heavier.
ABOUT | 2500 words. fluff. pre-relationship. first kiss. UST. self indulgent. emotional hurt/comfort.
"Whatcha watching?"
Your body jerks in surprise, sending your phone tumbling to the floor as your hands come up to muffle the high-pitched yelp startled out of you.
The sound of the cat compilation video echoing through the living room undermines the fierceness of your glare when you turn to face your intruder. That teasing rumble all too close – and all too familiar – to belong to anyone else but-
"Valko," you chide, wishing you could blame the jumpscare when your stomach dips at the sight of his windblown hair and innocent expression so close to yours.
Though letting himself into your apartment like this was nothing new, had become a part of your routine for months at this point, if you're honest, there was something that had been feeling different about Valko's visits to you lately. Less vexing and more… comforting.
An increased awareness of him, maybe? The sound of his voice. His size. The way his laugh and personality managed to fill the room more than his bulky body. Of the way he always tripped over your living room rug or tried to sneak a rub of his scent into every pillow. Of the way he stood so close when he spoke to you, capturing you in the sweet honey of his eyes.
It was something warm that pulsed in your chest, something intimate that had started to hook your gaze to his mouth and magnetize your palms to his skin even today, when you're at your lowest.
His right ear twitches at the sound of his name as he grabs your phone from the floor, a crease of distaste scrunching his nose when he clicks on the screen to stop the noise and tsks, "Looks like my 'dogs are better than cats' speech needs some work."
"Maybe I'll be more in the mood to hear you out–" you take your phone back and set it on the table with a huff, "–when my 'please use the damn front door' speech finally penetrates that thick skull of yours."
A crooked grin scrawls over his face. The pointed tips of his incisors reflecting the dim light of the small lamp you'd flicked on purely to save you from feeling like a complete gremlin while you moped this evening.
"Gonna tell you the same thing I tell Ma every time she says that." He unfurls from the crouching position he'd been in and drops his weight beside you, making your normally sizeable loveseat suddenly feel cramped. "Processing info is for the ears, not the skull."
Resting your cheek in your palm, you narrow your eyes at him with a considering hum.
"What?" Your uninvited houseguest turns to face you, eliciting a concerning creak from the loveseat as his knee comes up to rest on the cushion and his arm drapes over the back. An oversized paw just shy of brushing your shoulder. "What d'you mean, 'hm?'"
"Trespasser, jumpscaring people, terrible manners, and a smart ass to your mother?" You note each transgression by holding up a finger. "No wonder you're always prowling around Linkon alone."
"Hey, hey! Woah, woah, hold on." His hand darts forward, covering yours like it'll hide the evidence. "No– I mean– sure I may be some of those things, but trust me," he puts one of your fingers down and leans forward, another sad groan coming from below the cushion as he rests his elbow on his knee. "I wouldn't be sitting here, or hanging out with you – or breathing – if I were a smart ass to my mother."
Despite yourself, you feel the corner of your lip twitch, the closest you’ve come to a smile all day.
It surprises you how naturally it comes, how much lighter you feel, as you take in his easy grin, his warm palms, his artless gaze. Makes you worry that you're becoming used to this feeling, to something you might be misreading.
"Why?"
"Well, she has this really brutal way of grabbing you by the ear and–"
"No–" the word dissolves on a giggle that has both his ears twitching and an expression you can't quite interpret crossing his face. "I mean, why are you sitting here? Hanging out with me?"
"Oh. I kind of–" He stops, a hint of pink creeping onto his cheeks as he looks down at your still-linked hands. "I mean, I sorta felt like something was… off. With you." You're suddenly glad for the loss of his gaze as he starts to fiddle with your fingers, pressing the pads of his fingers to the tops of your nails as if to test their sharpness. "It's like a.. tug?"
Your mind races with panic as you realize just how much your attraction to him has been tugging at you over his last few visits. "Are you saying that with this– this bond or whatever, you can feel my emotions?"
"Nah, it's not like that." You hope he can't see the stark relief in your gaze when his eyes meet yours again, letting go of your hand to press a palm to the center of his chest. "It's not emotions that call me, it's, well… you. Calling me, that is. Needing me. Or, pulling at me, more like."
Your brows arc upward. "Like a leash?"
His head shoots back dramatically, paired with a groan that sounds almost as distressed as the loveseat still suffering under his weight. "Mercy, little hellion. Let a man keep at least a little dignity." He shakes his head with a bark of self-deprecating laughter. "But yeah. You've got me leashed up good. Happy?"
His question is gentle but pointed, hopeful. His frame still leaning over you, an umbrella shielding you from the sadness and negativity that have been pelting you all day.
Your chest warms at the sight, making it all the harder to respond with a sad smile and the shake of your head as the all the reasons you're not happy come flooding back.
"Alright," he says easily, unphased and unrelenting. A considering look enters his eyes. "Just means I've gotta take more drastic measures here."
In a blur of movements you barely have time to process, he turns his back to you, kicks off his boots – an oddly polite gesture that has you reconsidering just how serious he was about that leash comment – and flops backward. The broad span of his shoulders forces your bent knees down to accommodate the weight of his head as it nestles into your thighs.
"V-Valko! What are you doing?" you stutter, heartbeat galloping as the scent of amber and pine and him wash over you. His ear twitches as he takes your awkwardly hovering hands, placing one behind the wolf ear on his right and the other behind the human ear on his left.
"There," he says with a wiggle of his shoulders, like your thighs are a pillow he's nestling into.
When he notices your hands haven't budged, he gives you an expectant look, nudging the sides of his head into your palms until your lips twitch and your fingers start to move.
"This is your drastic measure?"
He hums in response, eyelashes fluttering as your nails scrape gently over a rose-coloured mix of silky hair and plush fur.
"And this is supposed to…" The question trails off but your hands continue.
He shrugs, the heat of his shoulders anchoring your thighs as one of his arms sneaks around your waist.
"I dunno, distract you? Annoy you, comfort you, take your pick." His eyes lock onto yours, sincere, earnest. "Whatever you need."
The combination of his touch and his words act like a stick of dynamite, blasting through the boulder of tension and worry that's been sitting on your chest all day.
You take a deep breath as he sighs in what you instinctually know is relief. And for the first time since he's mentioned this "bond" of yours, you think, maybe this thing goes both ways.
The thought that you might be starting to figure him out as well as he always seems to understand you brings a small smile to your face.
His lips mirror yours. "That's what I like to see," he says, voice low.
You roll your eyes and flick his ear to disguise the way your stomach flips when the praise rumbles through your thighs, flexing them to jostle him and joke, "What? Me being suffocated?"
His finger comes up to tap the end of your nose with a self-assured grin. "Stop pretending you dont like it, I saw that weighted blanket on your bed." You're not sure if it's you or the loveseat that squeaks when he tugs you into his face and nuzzles into your stomach. "Wanna tell me what's got you down?"
There's something about Valko's bluntness, about his willingness to tackle everything head-on, that catches you more off-guard than his casual and abundant displays of affection ever do. It's straightforward, without artifice. And though there's no hesitation in his request, there's somehow no pressure in it either. As if no response you give him could ever result in offense or resentment or awkwardness, making it feel like the most natural thing in the world to tell the unvarnished truth.
So you do.
"It's just… everything? I don't know, it's all piling up. Like, there's work, lack of sleep, friends I'm not keeping up with, not to mention the general state of the world."
You pause, finding his attentive gaze already on you when you look down to see if you're making any sense. He nods encouragingly, the ears on his head twitching in unison like an attentive audience.
"So I guess I've just been thinking about it all and it feels a little overwhelming. Right here." You press a hand to your chest. "And… heavy, I guess. Like–" You raise a pointed brow. "Like getting crushed by a giant mutt on my own sofa."
His jaw drops in dramatic affront. “You– did you just-” He snaps into a sitting position, your loveseat groaning in despair before he points a finger at himself, as if there could be anyone else you were talking about. “Mutt?! Oh you just crossed a line, you hellion.”
Any response you might’ve had morphs into a high-pitched squeal as you’re scooped up by a muscular arm and thrown over his shoulder.
“Valko! What are you doing? Put me down,” you manage through giggles and laughter as he hauls you to the bedroom with what sounds like a muttered 'I’ll show you a giant mutt.'
You land on the mattress with a breathless oomph, the stray laughs bubbling from your throat feeling foreign but welcome as Valko descends over your figure in an army crawl, finally stopping when you're nose to nose.
Your chests meet on each breath as he reaches up to brush hair from your face. His eyes seem more yellow than amber in the dim light, like marigolds, and you can't think of anything more fitting for the resilient, protective man above you.
"Hi," you breathe, grinning wide.
"Hello, gorgeous," he murmurs, darting a glance at your lips that has your heartbeat pounding against your ribs.
The shadow of his tail swishes behind him as he lowers his weight onto you, fitting his body over yours in a way that anchors and comforts you rather than stifles you.
"Better?" He mumbles into your neck, the heat of his breath awakening gooseflesh over your collarbones. "You know, now that you've made my pedigree your punching bag?"
"Yeah, actually," you realize with a giggle, fingers brushing over the soft bristles of his undercut. "I do."
You haven't laughed this much in a while. In fact, despite being pinned under the heaviest man you know, you haven't felt this light for a few weeks now, you think, which was… the last time he visited you. You close your eyes briefly, mourning the loss of your sanity at the realization that he was right earlier. You had needed him.
"Then listen to me real quick." Your hand slips to his jaw when he raises his head, his smile smaller, his eyes intent. "Next time you feel overwhelmed, or if it's all feeling like too much, you don't have to isolate yourself, or doomscroll, or muscle through it alone. I know I look like I'm all brains but I can help carry things. So just call me, yeah?"
You smile, agreeing with a small nod, pausing before you joke, "With the leash?"
"Okay, who's the smart ass now?" he mutters with a shake of his head, crooked grin back in place. "I meant with a phone. But the leash works too, I guess."
"What's it like?" you ask, curious for the first time since you've learned of it.
"The bond?" His eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, a knuckle tracing your cheek. "It's like one of those less traveled paths in the woods. Barely visible to the naked eye, but once you find it and start walking on it, everything starts to feel… right."
"Your chest gets really warm and you have this zappy feeling in your gut." His lips tip up in a faraway smile as his eyes follow the path his knuckle makes over your ear, your neck, your collarbones. "Everything feels possible when it's there. Lighter. And when it's gone? Anything you do feels wrong. Empty."
"But…" You swallow past the heartbeat in your throat. "I thought you couldn't feel my emotions," you protest weakly.
A spark ignites in his eyes, electric enough to charge the air between you as his expression morphs into what you can only identify as a primal satisfaction. He inhales deeply, as if he's trying to memorize the scent of this moment, holding your gaze as his eyelids lower.
"I can't," he breathes, so close his nose brushes against yours when he shakes his head. "Those were all mine."
Your lips part, tongue hovering in wait between your teeth as his palm comes up under your chin, fingers settling on both sides of your jaw to draw you in. Your eyes shut as his lips descend over yours, and despite the warmth of his palm, the first brush of his tongue feel like being doused in flame. You wrap your arms around his neck on a moan, humming when he tilts your head to lick into your mouth again and again.
"Valko." The soft, fuzzy sensation of his buzzed hair grazes your knuckles and he sighs into your mouth, as if you're breathing life back into him with the sound of his name.
You take the chance to nip at his lip, holding it hostage between yours until he answers in kind. The sharpness of his teeth like bee stings on your mouth, soothed only by the sweet honey of a tongue that's licking, tasting, consuming the flushed skin between your lips and your throat.
His body sinks into yours, each of his muscles and contours taking shape around yours like heated metal, a weapon being forged for its master, its weight the heaviest thing you'll ever have to carry again.
➻➻ MASTERLIST
NOTE: They can take my undomesticated wolf man from me in the game but he will live on as a terrible house guest in my delusions forever xoxo
Everything is feeling a little heavy, but that's alright because Valko is heavier.
ABOUT | 2500 words. fluff. pre-relationship. first kiss. UST. self indulgent. emotional hurt/comfort.
"Whatcha watching?"
Your body jerks in surprise, sending your phone tumbling to the floor as your hands come up to muffle the high-pitched yelp startled out of you.
The sound of the cat compilation video echoing through the living room undermines the fierceness of your glare when you turn to face your intruder. That teasing rumble all too close – and all too familiar – to belong to anyone else but-
"Valko," you chide, wishing you could blame the jumpscare when your stomach dips at the sight of his windblown hair and innocent expression so close to yours.
Though letting himself into your apartment like this was nothing new, had become a part of your routine for months at this point, if you're honest, there was something that had been feeling different about Valko's visits to you lately. Less vexing and more… comforting.
An increased awareness of him, maybe? The sound of his voice. His size. The way his laugh and personality managed to fill the room more than his bulky body. Of the way he always tripped over your living room rug or tried to sneak a rub of his scent into every pillow. Of the way he stood so close when he spoke to you, capturing you in the sweet honey of his eyes.
It was something warm that pulsed in your chest, something intimate that had started to hook your gaze to his mouth and magnetize your palms to his skin even today, when you're at your lowest.
His right ear twitches at the sound of his name as he grabs your phone from the floor, a crease of distaste scrunching his nose when he clicks on the screen to stop the noise and tsks, "Looks like my 'dogs are better than cats' speech needs some work."
"Maybe I'll be more in the mood to hear you out–" you take your phone back and set it on the table with a huff, "–when my 'please use the damn front door' speech finally penetrates that thick skull of yours."
A crooked grin scrawls over his face. The pointed tips of his incisors reflecting the dim light of the small lamp you'd flicked on purely to save you from feeling like a complete gremlin while you moped this evening.
"Gonna tell you the same thing I tell Ma every time she says that." He unfurls from the crouching position he'd been in and drops his weight beside you, making your normally sizeable loveseat suddenly feel cramped. "Processing info is for the ears, not the skull."
Resting your cheek in your palm, you narrow your eyes at him with a considering hum.
"What?" Your uninvited houseguest turns to face you, eliciting a concerning creak from the loveseat as his knee comes up to rest on the cushion and his arm drapes over the back. An oversized paw just shy of brushing your shoulder. "What d'you mean, 'hm?'"
"Trespasser, jumpscaring people, terrible manners, and a smart ass to your mother?" You note each transgression by holding up a finger. "No wonder you're always prowling around Linkon alone."
"Hey, hey! Woah, woah, hold on." His hand darts forward, covering yours like it'll hide the evidence. "No– I mean– sure I may be some of those things, but trust me," he puts one of your fingers down and leans forward, another sad groan coming from below the cushion as he rests his elbow on his knee. "I wouldn't be sitting here, or hanging out with you – or breathing – if I were a smart ass to my mother."
Despite yourself, you feel the corner of your lip twitch, the closest you’ve come to a smile all day.
It surprises you how naturally it comes, how much lighter you feel, as you take in his easy grin, his warm palms, his artless gaze. Makes you worry that you're becoming used to this feeling, to something you might be misreading.
"Why?"
"Well, she has this really brutal way of grabbing you by the ear and–"
"No–" the word dissolves on a giggle that has both his ears twitching and an expression you can't quite interpret crossing his face. "I mean, why are you sitting here? Hanging out with me?"
"Oh. I kind of–" He stops, a hint of pink creeping onto his cheeks as he looks down at your still-linked hands. "I mean, I sorta felt like something was… off. With you." You're suddenly glad for the loss of his gaze as he starts to fiddle with your fingers, pressing the pads of his fingers to the tops of your nails as if to test their sharpness. "It's like a.. tug?"
Your mind races with panic as you realize just how much your attraction to him has been tugging at you over his last few visits. "Are you saying that with this– this bond or whatever, you can feel my emotions?"
"Nah, it's not like that." You hope he can't see the stark relief in your gaze when his eyes meet yours again, letting go of your hand to press a palm to the center of his chest. "It's not emotions that call me, it's, well… you. Calling me, that is. Needing me. Or, pulling at me, more like."
Your brows arc upward. "Like a leash?"
His head shoots back dramatically, paired with a groan that sounds almost as distressed as the loveseat still suffering under his weight. "Mercy, little hellion. Let a man keep at least a little dignity." He shakes his head with a bark of self-deprecating laughter. "But yeah. You've got me leashed up good. Happy?"
His question is gentle but pointed, hopeful. His frame still leaning over you, an umbrella shielding you from the sadness and negativity that have been pelting you all day.
Your chest warms at the sight, making it all the harder to respond with a sad smile and the shake of your head as the all the reasons you're not happy come flooding back.
"Alright," he says easily, unphased and unrelenting. A considering look enters his eyes. "Just means I've gotta take more drastic measures here."
In a blur of movements you barely have time to process, he turns his back to you, kicks off his boots – an oddly polite gesture that has you reconsidering just how serious he was about that leash comment – and flops backward. The broad span of his shoulders forces your bent knees down to accommodate the weight of his head as it nestles into your thighs.
"V-Valko! What are you doing?" you stutter, heartbeat galloping as the scent of amber and pine and him wash over you. His ear twitches as he takes your awkwardly hovering hands, placing one behind the wolf ear on his right and the other behind the human ear on his left.
"There," he says with a wiggle of his shoulders, like your thighs are a pillow he's nestling into.
When he notices your hands haven't budged, he gives you an expectant look, nudging the sides of his head into your palms until your lips twitch and your fingers start to move.
"This is your drastic measure?"
He hums in response, eyelashes fluttering as your nails scrape gently over a rose-coloured mix of silky hair and plush fur.
"And this is supposed to…" The question trails off but your hands continue.
He shrugs, the heat of his shoulders anchoring your thighs as one of his arms sneaks around your waist.
"I dunno, distract you? Annoy you, comfort you, take your pick." His eyes lock onto yours, sincere, earnest. "Whatever you need."
The combination of his touch and his words act like a stick of dynamite, blasting through the boulder of tension and worry that's been sitting on your chest all day.
You take a deep breath as he sighs in what you instinctually know is relief. And for the first time since he's mentioned this "bond" of yours, you think, maybe this thing goes both ways.
The thought that you might be starting to figure him out as well as he always seems to understand you brings a small smile to your face.
His lips mirror yours. "That's what I like to see," he says, voice low.
You roll your eyes and flick his ear to disguise the way your stomach flips when the praise rumbles through your thighs, flexing them to jostle him and joke, "What? Me being suffocated?"
His finger comes up to tap the end of your nose with a self-assured grin. "Stop pretending you dont like it, I saw that weighted blanket on your bed." You're not sure if it's you or the loveseat that squeaks when he tugs you into his face and nuzzles into your stomach. "Wanna tell me what's got you down?"
There's something about Valko's bluntness, about his willingness to tackle everything head-on, that catches you more off-guard than his casual and abundant displays of affection ever do. It's straightforward, without artifice. And though there's no hesitation in his request, there's somehow no pressure in it either. As if no response you give him could ever result in offense or resentment or awkwardness, making it feel like the most natural thing in the world to tell the unvarnished truth.
So you do.
"It's just… everything? I don't know, it's all piling up. Like, there's work, lack of sleep, friends I'm not keeping up with, not to mention the general state of the world."
You pause, finding his attentive gaze already on you when you look down to see if you're making any sense. He nods encouragingly, the ears on his head twitching in unison like an attentive audience.
"So I guess I've just been thinking about it all and it feels a little overwhelming. Right here." You press a hand to your chest. "And… heavy, I guess. Like–" You raise a pointed brow. "Like getting crushed by a giant mutt on my own sofa."
His jaw drops in dramatic affront. “You– did you just-” He snaps into a sitting position, your loveseat groaning in despair before he points a finger at himself, as if there could be anyone else you were talking about. “Mutt?! Oh you just crossed a line, you hellion.”
Any response you might’ve had morphs into a high-pitched squeal as you’re scooped up by a muscular arm and thrown over his shoulder.
“Valko! What are you doing? Put me down,” you manage through giggles and laughter as he hauls you to the bedroom with what sounds like a muttered 'I’ll show you a giant mutt.'
You land on the mattress with a breathless oomph, the stray laughs bubbling from your throat feeling foreign but welcome as Valko descends over your figure in an army crawl, finally stopping when you're nose to nose.
Your chests meet on each breath as he reaches up to brush hair from your face. His eyes seem more yellow than amber in the dim light, like marigolds, and you can't think of anything more fitting for the resilient, protective man above you.
"Hi," you breathe, grinning wide.
"Hello, gorgeous," he murmurs, darting a glance at your lips that has your heartbeat pounding against your ribs.
The shadow of his tail swishes behind him as he lowers his weight onto you, fitting his body over yours in a way that anchors and comforts you rather than stifles you.
"Better?" He mumbles into your neck, the heat of his breath awakening gooseflesh over your collarbones. "You know, now that you've made my pedigree your punching bag?"
"Yeah, actually," you realize with a giggle, fingers brushing over the soft bristles of his undercut. "I do."
You haven't laughed this much in a while. In fact, despite being pinned under the heaviest man you know, you haven't felt this light for a few weeks now, you think, which was… the last time he visited you. You close your eyes briefly, mourning the loss of your sanity at the realization that he was right earlier. You had needed him.
"Then listen to me real quick." Your hand slips to his jaw when he raises his head, his smile smaller, his eyes intent. "Next time you feel overwhelmed, or if it's all feeling like too much, you don't have to isolate yourself, or doomscroll, or muscle through it alone. I know I look like I'm all brains but I can help carry things. So just call me, yeah?"
You smile, agreeing with a small nod, pausing before you joke, "With the leash?"
"Okay, who's the smart ass now?" he mutters with a shake of his head, crooked grin back in place. "I meant with a phone. But the leash works too, I guess."
"What's it like?" you ask, curious for the first time since you've learned of it.
"The bond?" His eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, a knuckle tracing your cheek. "It's like one of those less traveled paths in the woods. Barely visible to the naked eye, but once you find it and start walking on it, everything starts to feel… right."
"Your chest gets really warm and you have this zappy feeling in your gut." His lips tip up in a faraway smile as his eyes follow the path his knuckle makes over your ear, your neck, your collarbones. "Everything feels possible when it's there. Lighter. And when it's gone? Anything you do feels wrong. Empty."
"But…" You swallow past the heartbeat in your throat. "I thought you couldn't feel my emotions," you protest weakly.
A spark ignites in his eyes, electric enough to charge the air between you as his expression morphs into what you can only identify as a primal satisfaction. He inhales deeply, as if he's trying to memorize the scent of this moment, holding your gaze as his eyelids lower.
"I can't," he breathes, so close his nose brushes against yours when he shakes his head. "Those were all mine."
Your lips part, tongue hovering in wait between your teeth as his palm comes up under your chin, fingers settling on both sides of your jaw to draw you in. Your eyes shut as his lips descend over yours, and despite the warmth of his palm, the first brush of his tongue feel like being doused in flame. You wrap your arms around his neck on a moan, humming when he tilts your head to lick into your mouth again and again.
"Valko." The soft, fuzzy sensation of his buzzed hair grazes your knuckles and he sighs into your mouth, as if you're breathing life back into him with the sound of his name.
You take the chance to nip at his lip, holding it hostage between yours until he answers in kind. The sharpness of his teeth like bee stings on your mouth, soothed only by the sweet honey of a tongue that's licking, tasting, consuming the flushed skin between your lips and your throat.
His body sinks into yours, each of his muscles and contours taking shape around yours like heated metal, a weapon being forged for its master, its weight the heaviest thing you'll ever have to carry again.
➻➻ MASTERLIST
NOTE: They can take my undomesticated wolf man from me in the game but he will live on as a terrible house guest in my delusions forever xoxo
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
origamiaround
pixelskylines
snowghoul
baratheonpilled
