When Will The Thoughts End?!

‘97 Baby, an introverted artist, and have anxiety and social anxiety. I like cartoons and anime and I also just like to reblog things that I can relate to or if it interests me.

[cumchiato]

୨୧ — Valko was sprawled on his stomach, one arm dangling off the edge of the bed, hair an absolute disaster, ears twitching occasionally at sounds only he could hear. His tail had escaped the covers sometime in the night and lay flopped over your legs like a furry anchor.

It wagged once. Twice. Even in sleep, some part of him always knew you were there.

You'd been awake for an hour already- crept out at an ungodly time to execute your master plan, then slipped back in to wait. The apartment smelled like vanilla and sugar and slightly burnt frosting (you'd scraped off the evidence), and the living room was housing a mountain of wrapped presents you'd been secretly hoarding for weeks.

His nose twitched.

There it is.

You watched his brow furrow, still mostly asleep, processing the unusual scent data. His tail started wagging faster. Then his ears perked up- one, then the other, swiveling toward the bedroom door like little radar dishes.

“Mmrph” A grumble. His arm reached out blindly, patting the mattress until he found your thigh and latched on,  “Why's it smell like... cake?”

“Good morning to you too.”

One golden eye cracked open. Then the other. He squinted at you suspiciously, clearly not trusting his own senses this early, “‘S not my birthday.”

“It literally is.”

He buried his face back into the pillow, “Birthdays are for people who age. I refuse. I'm eternal.”

You snorted and scratched behind one ear. His whole body went boneless, a low rumble building in his chest.

Cheater, he thought hazily. Using the ears against me. 

“Made you a cake,” you said in the sweetest fucking voice. 

His head lifted. Both ears now at full attention, pointed directly at you with laser focus.

“…What kind?”

“Chocolate. Three layers. Homemade buttercream… There may also be irresponsible amounts of presents. That leather jacket you've been staring at for six months? Those limited edition headphones that sold out in three minutes?" You grinned. "Oh, and I contacted that artist you like for a custom commission- it won't be ready for weeks so you're getting an IOU with a badly drawn wolf on it. Don't judge my art skills."

His tail was going insane now- hard enough to shake the bed. But his face was doing that thing where he tried to look cool and unaffected and was failing spectacularly.

She remembered, he thought, something warm and overwhelming expanding in his chest. Every stupid little thing I mentioned once. She was listening. She planned this. For me.

You didn't get to finish the sentence.

Valko moved fast and suddenly you were pinned beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his face inches from yours.

“You,” he said roughly, “are so annoying.”

“Rude. I made you cake-“

“The most annoying person I've ever met.” He kissed your forehead. “Insufferable even.” Your nose. “Absolutely unbearable.” The corner of your mouth. 

You cupped his face in both hands.

“Happy birthday, my little wolfie.”

He made a small, undignified sound. His tail drooped. His ears flattened.

And then he buried his face in your neck, arms wrapping around you tight enough to squeeze the air from your lungs, and just... stayed there. Breathing you in.

You held him tighter, scratching at the base of his ears as his whole body melted against yours.

His tail started wagging again- slower, softer.

Best day, he thought. Best person. Gonna marry her. 

“So,” you finally said, breaking the silence, “wanna see your presents? Orrrr is it still too early?”

He bit your shoulder. Not hard. Just enough to make you yelp.

“Five more minutes.” He lifted his head, flashing that sharp grin- still slightly watery but getting cockier, “Then presents. Then cake. Then I'm gonna show you exactly how grateful I am. Repeatedly.”

“...It's eight AM.”

“And? I've got all day. You gave me three layers. That's at least three rounds.”

“That math doesn't-“

He dropped back down, pressing a kiss to your pulse point, “My birthday. My math.” 

[calebunny]

Get a load of this dork

[shytothemaxx]

You know those videos of owners putting food under their sleeping dog’s nose, right? Well imagine that with Valko?

Wouldn’t that be so cute?!! He’s laying on the couch with his ears and tail out, taking a nice nap and MC just comes up with his favorite snack, holds it under his nose, silently giggling as his nose starts to twitch and his pop open instantly taking a bite of the snack! Then looks at her, seeing her full on laughing now, his ears drop as he looks at her with annoyed expression but he’s really not annoyed because he managed to make her laugh and he enjoys her laughter and happiness!

THAT WOULD BE SO ADORABLE!!!

[valkovalkyrie]

https://x.com/missmana55/status/2074975603531342198?s=12

I'm with this person! ⬆️⬆️

As long as it takes.

AS LONG AS IT TAKES!

#BRINGVALKOBACK #BRINGBACKVALKO

#VALKO

#KEEPVALKOALIVE

#WEWANTVALKO

[xxsyluslittlecrowxx]

For the Valko requests, I would love to see some cute family fluff between MC, Valko, his cousins, grandma, and his sister (I think he had a sister in his lore, correct me if I am wrong), because I want to see how MC would get along with Valko's family. 🐺

𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄

synopsis: when valko brings you home for the first time, he warns you about everything: his grandmother’s food, his sister’s stare, his cousin’s stories, the family jokes that always cut too close. he forgets to warn you that love in his house is not gentle or quiet, but loud, practical, mercilessly observant, and served warm at the kitchen table. cw/tw: valko x reader. very soft domestic fluff. light family teasing. read here: ao3 ⋅ tumblr

Valko lost his nerve three steps from the door.

It was a small death, but you saw it happen; the brave lift of his chin, the twitch in his jaw, the small, tragic collapse of his entire face when a crash came from inside the house.

His hand tightened around yours.

“Dobro,” he said.

Another crash.

From inside, and older woman called, “If that's my good plate, I will put someone in the ground before supper.”

Valko closed his eyes. You turned toward him.

He opened one eyes. “She loves plates.”

“More than people?”

“Depends on the people.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, and relief moved through him all at once, softening his shoulders, loosening the frightened line of his mouth. He'd been nervous all morning. Badly nervous. Valko, who could grin with blood on his teeth and make danger look like a door he'd simply forgotten to knock on, had spent the whole walk here giving you warnings no sane person could have prepared for.

Do not let Mika read your palm. He makes things up and then believes them.

Do not compliment Baba's curtains unless you want curtains.

Do not say you're full.

And, most importantly, if anyone mentions the soup incident, Valko had said, grave as a condemned man, they're lying.

You had asked what the soup incident was.

He had started to walk faster.

Now he stood before the old wooden door with your fingers caught in his, trying to look calm and producing, somehow, the exact expression of a wolf about to be bathed.

“Valko,” you said softly.

“Yes?”

“You're shaking.”

“I'm not shaking.”

“You are.”

“I’m containing myself.”

“From what?”

“Hereditary embarrassment.”

The door flew open.

A girl about his age stood on the other side, dark-eyed and grinning, with flour on her cheek and murder in her posture. She took one look at Valko’s hand around yours, then lifted her gaze to his face with the slow delight of someone finding a knife exactly where she had hoped one would be.

A slow smile cut across her face.

“Oh,” she smirked. “So this is why you changed your shirt twice.”

Valko made a sound. Small, wounded, entirely unlike a wolf.

“I changed once.”

“You changed twice. The first shirt was the blue one. The second was the one that made you look like you were going to court. This...This is the third.”

His ears went red.

The woman held out her hand to you. “Milena. His sister.”

“Unfortunately,” Valko added.

“Fortunately. Without me, you'd still think soap is optional in winter.”

“It isn't optional.”

“Because of me.”

You took Milena's hand. Her grip was warm, firm, and full of judgement she hadn't yet decided to use.

Behind her, the house breathed out heat. Bread, onions, some in old wood, something sweet cooling on a counter. There were voices everywhere, layered and crossing. One person laughing while another complained, a child humming under a table, chairs scraping, a kettle whistling like a bird losing patience.

Milena stepped aside. “Come in before Baba starts saying we were raised by wolves.”

Valko muttered, “We were.”

She looked at him. “And still, some of us learned manners.”

You crossed the threshold. The house was smaller than the noise made it seem, or maybe the noise had simply learned to fill every corner. Framed photographs climbed the walls in crooked rows. Herbs hung drying above the kitchen window. Nothing matched, and yet everything looked touched, mended, argued over... kept.

Valko leaned close as he helped you out of your coat.

“Last chance,” he whispered. “We can run.”

You looked past him to where an old woman stood near the stove, hands folded over her apron, watching you with bright, wolfish eyes.

“Too late,” you whispered back. “I think she heard you.”

“I hear everything,” the old woman said.

Valko went still.

Milena smiled into her shoulder.

The old woman crossed the kitchen with the slow authority of someone who had ruled this house before any of them had teeth. She was small, broad in the shoulders, silver-haired, with flour on her wrist and no softness wasted in her face. The softness, you realised, was elsewhere. In the bread covered by a towel, in the chair pulled out before you reached it, in the way Valko lowered his head without being asked when she came close.

“Baba,” he said, and for the first time that day, his voice lost its jokes.

She, of course, ignored him.

Instead, she took your face between both hands.

Her palms smelled of rosemary, yeast, and soap. Her thumbs rested beneath your cheekbones, and for one strange second the whole house seemed to lean closer. The cousins, the kettle, the old boards, even Valko, holding his breath beside you.

“So,” Baba Vesna said. “You are the reason he forgets to eat.”

“I eat,” Valko protested.

Teta Marika appeared by the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “You came here last week, opened the pantry, stared at a sack of potatoes for six minutes, then said, ‘I wonder what she’s doing.’”

“That was taken out of context.”

“What was the context?” you asked, because love had made you brave and terrible.

Valko looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

A boy leaning backwards on his chair nearly lost balance from laughing, another cousin caught the chair by its back without looking up from peeling an apple.

Baba Vesna patted your cheek once and released you. “Sit, dušo. Eat something before my family embarrass me properly.”

Valko gave a strangled laugh. “Before?”

No one listened to him.

You were placed at the long wooden table as if the decision had been made before you arrived. A bowl appeared, then bread, then butter, then a small plate of pickled vegetables. Teta Marika, Valko's aunt, kissed the air beside your cheeks and took the small gift you had brought. Mika announced that he already knew your favourite colour from Valko’s face. Luka told him that was the stupidest sentence ever spoken in the kitchen, which Mika accepted as praise. The little one beneath the table emerged, solemn and bread-dusted, and introduced himself as Niko.

“Are you going to marry him?” Niko asked.

Valko walked directly into the side of a chair.

The whole kitchen paused. You pressed your lips together.

Milena leaned against the doorway, radiant with cruelty. “Careful, Niko. Val only has two knees.”

“Niko,” Teta Marika turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “We ask guests if they want juice first.”

Niko nodded, absorbing this etiquette with grave importance. “Do you want juice before you marry him?”

Valko covered his face with both hands. You bit down on your smile so hard it almost hurt. This wasn't what you had expected.

Some foolish, frightened part of you had imagined a den in the old sense. Teeth, watchful eyes, a family arranged around blood and law, waiting to decide whether your bones could be allowed near theirs. Valko had never spoken of them casually. Whenever he said home, something tender and embarrassed moved through him, as though the word itself had fingers and knew exactly where to touch.

Now you sat beneath a crooked lamp while his grandmother tore bread with her hands and put the first piece on your plate.

“Eat,” Baba Vesna said.

You obeyed.

The bread was warm enough to steam between your fingers. The crust cracked softly, butter melted into it in golden lines. Across the table, Valko watched you take the first bite as if your mouth held judgment from heaven.

You chewed. Swallowed.

“It’s delicious.”

Baba Vesna clicked her tongue. “Of course it is wonderful. I made it.”

Mika leaned towards you. “He talked about you after the market yesterday.”

Valko’s hand hit the table. “No.”

“Yes, you did” Luka said sticking his tongue out.

“No.”

“You said, and I quote, 'she chooses fruit with such care'.”

The table went quiet for half a breath, your hand stilled around the bread. Valko looked at Luka as if betrayal had entered the room wearing his cousin’s face.

“That was private.”

“You said it in the kitchen.”

“That makes it private.”

Milena sat across from you and rested her chin in her hand. “He also said you have kind hands.”

Valko’s mouth opened, nothing came out. Your heart did something foolish inside your chest.

The teasing had worked him bright and flustered, but beneath it, something softer trembled. He was embarrassed, yes. Horribly, so. Beautifully, so. Yet the thing underneath was more dangerous than shame. This was exposure. A curtain pulled open in a room he had spent so long keeping dim.

He had spoken of you here.

At this table. In this warm, loud house. To these people who teased him because they knew what he looked like with no armour on. He had brought you home long before he ever brought your body through the door.

Baba Vesna filled your bowl with soup.

“He was always like this,” she said.

“Baba, please.”

“He was a strange child,” she said.

Valko groaned. “Please.”

“A sweet child,” Teta Marika corrected.

“A dramatic child,” Luka said.

“A biting child,” Milena added.

Valko pointed at her. “You bit first.”

“You looked biteable.”

“You see what I mean?” Valko turned to you with helpless outrage. “This is what I survived.”

There was love in it, the kind that had been cooked too long and reduced into something strong enough to stain. They spoke to him as if they had known every version of him and chosen, again and again, to keep putting food in front of whichever one came home.

You looked at him while he argued with Mika about whether a stolen spoon counted as a childhood trauma.

He caught you looking. For a moment, the noise thinned.

There he was.

Valko with his hair refusing every law of decency. Valko trying so hard to survive his own family and failing beautifully. His eyes met yours with a nervous brightness that made you want to reach across the table and be cruel to every fear that had ever found him.

Then Niko pointed his spoon at you.

“Are you keeping him?”

The kitchen stopped.

Valko made a tiny sound into his bowl.

Milena closed her eyes as if praying for patience and finding none. “Niko.”

“What? Mika said maybe she is keeping him.”

His gaze dropped to the table, to the bread by his hand, to the small old cuts in the wood. The blush still clung to him, but it had changed into something quieter now. Hope, perhaps. Or terror wearing hope’s coat.

You could have laughed. Everyone would have let you. It would have been easy to throw the question back into the room like a toy and watch them tear it apart.

Instead, beneath the table, you found Valko’s hand.

His fingers closed around yours at once.

“I’d like to,” you said.

The house held itself still for half a breath.

Then Baba Vesna nodded, once, as if some old contract had been signed in soup and honey.

“Good,” she said. “He is difficult, but warm.”

Valko bowed his head.

His shoulders shook.

At first you thought he was upset. Then you realised he was laughing, quietly, helplessly, with one hand over his mouth and the other holding yours under the table like he meant to keep it there until winter.

Mika groaned. “Ah, look at him. Finished. Completely finished.”

Milena reached for the pickles. “Good. He needed finishing.”

Teta Marika smiled into her tea. “Eat more, zlato. You will need strength.”

“For Valko?” you asked.

“For all of us.”

Dinner became less a meal than a storm with chairs.

Bowls moved, hands reached, stories climbed over one another and died unfinished because someone remembered a better accusation. Luka asked you practical questions in a calm voice: where you liked to walk, whether Valko had shown you the old river path, whether he still pretended not to like sweet things. Mika tried to read your palm and declared that you were fated to own a troublesome dog.

“That's just Valko,” Milena said.

“I am not a dog.”

“True,” Luka said. “Dogs listen.”

Valko began quietly placing the best pieces of food on your plate.

A soft carrot, the inside of the bread, a dumpling he pretended to move away from himself and somehow abandoned beside your spoon. He was not subtle. He had never been subtle. He was a wolf trying to hide a whole deer behind a napkin.

You noticed on the fourth offering.

His family noticed on the first.

Baba Vesna said nothing until Valko tried to give you the last honey cake. Then she leaned back in her chair and looked at him over her tea.

“Ah,” she said.

Valko froze.

It was one syllable. It landed like a bell.

“What?” he said.

“No, no.” She waved him off. “Continue. Starve for romance. Very noble.”

Mika threw his head back.

You picked up the honey cake before Valko could die at the table and broke it in two, placing half on his plate. “There,” you said. “No starving.”

He looked at the cake.

Then he looked at you.

His expression opened in a way that made the room, somehow, feel too small for your heart. It opened with that unguarded, bewildered softness he sometimes gave you when kindness arrived before he had prepared himself to receive it.

Milena saw it.

Her teasing quieted.

For a moment, she only watched him with something old and protective in her face.

Then she stood. “Come help me with plates.”

Valko blinked. “Me?”

“Her.” Milena pointed at you.

Valko frowned. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“That's not a reason.”

“It has worked on you for years.”

You rose before he could protest again. Milena took two plates from the table and handed you none of them, which told you at once that this had nothing to do with helping.

She led you down a narrow hallway lined with photographs.

Behind you, Valko’s voice rose. “Do not interrogate her.”

The hallway smelled faintly of beeswax and dried herbs. The noise of the kitchen softened behind you, still there, still golden, but now wrapped in walls. Milena stopped by a window overlooking the yard and leaned her hip against the sill.

For the first time all evening, she let the smile leave her face.

“He likes you,” she said.

You smiled gently. “I got that impression.”

“No.” Her eyes flicked towards the kitchen. “He likes people easily. He likes old men who tell bad stories, stray cats that scratch him, children who throw rocks at windows because they want attention. Valko is built stupid that way.”

A laugh escaped you.

Milena folded her arms.

“He brings things home,” she continued. “Broken things, angry things. Things he thinks no one else will be gentle with.” Her gaze moved towards the kitchen, where Valko’s voice lifted in protest. “He does not bring people home.”

Your throat tightened.

From the kitchen, Valko shouted, “It wasn't soup. It was stew.”

Mika shouted back, “Stew cannot make a grown man cry.”

“I was overwhelmed by flavour.”

Milena closed her eyes for one second. “Bože, give me strength.”

You laughed softly.

She looked at you again, sharper now.

“He was nervous all week,” she said. “Changed his shirt three times. Asked me if the house smelled too much like onions. Asked Luka if his laugh was strange. Asked Baba if she could please not tell the story about the goat.”

“The goat?”

“Later.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “Maybe never.”

You glanced back towards the kitchen.

He had asked if his laugh was strange.

Something in you ached with such tenderness that it almost felt like anger.

You looked down.

“He didn’t need to worry,”

“He is clumsy with precious things,” she said. “Because he thinks his hands are only good for breaking them, even when he is careful. Especially then.”

“So be kind,” she said. “Or be cruel quickly. He will survive either, but I prefer to know which one I’m dealing with.”

There it was.

The knife under the table. The love with its teeth intact. You didn't resent her for it, you thought, strangely, that you liked her more for it.

“I’m not here to hurt him,”

“Most people aren’t, at first.”

“Milena.”

Milena’s gaze narrowed.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with him,” you admitted.

“With any of this,” you continued. “He makes everything feel…” You searched for the word and hated every pretty one that came. Fated. Wild. Tender. All too polished for the mess he made of your heart. “He makes everything feel like I’ve been walking past a door my whole life, and he is the idiot who opened it with his shoulder.”

Milena stared at you.

Then she laughed once, sharp and startled.

“Oh,” she said. “You’re gone too.”

You looked down, caught.

She seemed satisfied. “Good.”

“Is that approval?”

“That is me deciding not to be difficult.”

“You were being difficult?”

“Dušo,” she said, and now her smile had teeth in it, “I was being polite.”

When you returned to the kitchen, Valko was waiting near the doorway as if he had tried to remain seated and failed.

His eyes moved from you to Milena. “What did you say to her?”

Milena walked past him. “That you were adopted.”

“I’m not.”

“Emotionally, you're a wet dog we found in the rain.”

He watched her go, wounded on principle, then turned to you with genuine concern. “What did she actually say?”

You reached up and brushed flour from his sleeve. “That you’re warm.”

“That was Baba.”

“Family consensus.”

His mouth twitched. “You are enjoying this.”

“I am.”

“You were supposed to be intimidated.”

“By Mika?”

“By the bloodline. The history. The general atmosphere of teeth.”

“Mika told me my palm says I’ll own a dog.”

Valko sighed.

You reached up and plucked the dish towel from his shoulder. “You have flour on your sleeve.”

He looked down, surprised, as if his own body had been making decisions without him. Then he looked back at you, and the kitchen noise faded once more, though this time it was only the two of you making the world small.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

The question was casual enough for anyone else to miss the tremor underneath. You heard it. The naked, waiting part. You thought of his hand shaking outside the door. Baba Vesna taking your face between her palms, of bread steaming in your fingers, of honey cake divided in two, of Milena saying he doesn't bring people home.

“I’m all right,” you said. “Are you?”

Valko smiled too quickly. “I’m alive.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

His smile softened.

For once, he did not joke immediately. It cost him something. You could see it in the way his fingers flexed at his side, reaching for mischief and finding courage instead.

“I wanted them to like you,” he said. “I wanted you to like them.”

“I do”

“I wanted…” He stopped, then laughed under his breath. “I don’t know. Something stupid.”

He looked towards the kitchen, where his family had resumed their noise without mercy. Mika was accusing Luka of stealing the larger piece of cake. Baba Vesna had taken down a tin from the highest shelf, probably containing either biscuits or secrets.

“Valko, stop hiding her. I have photographs.”

Horror returned to his face with magnificent speed.

“No.”

“Yes,”

“No photographs.”

“Naked baby photos,” Mika added.

Valko went pale. “You do not have those.”

Teta Marika’s voice drifted after him, serene and deadly. “We have everything.”

He grabbed your hand. “We’re leaving.”

You let him pull you three steps before Baba Vesna appeared in the doorway holding a small album to her chest.

“Sit,” she said.

Valko sat.

It was remarkable how quickly a wolf could become a grandson.

For the next hour, they showed you the evidence of his life.

Valko missing two front teeth and glaring at the camera as though betrayed by dentistry. Valko asleep under the table with one hand buried in a dog’s fur. Valko at thirteen, all elbows and outrage, holding a fish half his size while crying because he had to put it back.

There was Valko covered in mud, Valko wearing a paper crown, Valko with Milena’s arm hooked around his neck while he pretended to hate her and leaned into her anyway. Valko standing beside Baba Vesna in the garden, holding a basket of tomatoes like he had been entrusted with the fate of nations.

Each photograph was another small door.

You had known him in pieces: the grin, the hunger, the awkward tenderness, the jokes he threw like branches over deep water. Here was the rest of him. Here was the child who had survived becoming himself because these hands had fed him, scolded him, dragged him upright, and remembered his softness when he tried to outgrow it.

At some point, while everyone argued over whether the goat incident happened before or after the soup incident, Valko bent close to you.

“You don’t have to keep looking,” he murmured.

You turned a page.

A tiny Valko stared up from the album, holding a wooden spoon like a sword.

“Yes,” you said. “I do.”

He stared at you.

Then, very briefly, he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

It lasted only a second. A shy, exhausted surrender. No one commented on it, though you knew every person in the room saw. That seemed to be another house rule. They would mock the wound, yes, but they protected the pulse.

Later, when the cups were cleared and the album returned to its shelf of holy embarrassments, you stepped outside for air.

The yard was cold, dark and soft around the edges. Herbs grew beneath the window, yhe old trees leaned towards the house as if listening. Behind you, the kitchen glowed gold, laughter pressing against the glass.

Valko followed after a moment, closing the door carefully behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You looked at him. “For what?”'

“The interrogation. The photographs. Mika. The marriage question. The soup litigation.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Milena.”

“I like Milena.”

“That means she behaved.”

“She said she was being polite.”

He winced. “Then she liked you.”

You leaned back against the porch railing, and he stood in front of you with his hands in his pockets, rocking once on his heels like he wanted to come closer and had forgotten the law of his own body.

Through the window, you could see Baba Vesna pretending to wipe the table while watching you both with shameless interest. You lifted a hand and waved.

She waved back.

Valko turned, saw her, and groaned. “For the love of...Baba.”

“She loves you.”

“That's her usual excuse for crimes.”

“It’s a good one.”

He looked back at you, and the teasing left him slowly, piece by piece. Out here, with the house at his back, he seemed caught between the wild thing and the loved thing. The wolf and the boy in the paper crown. The man who had brought you to the threshold with shaking hands and still tried to joke like fear could be made harmless if he gave it a funny name.

“Did you mean it?” he asked.

“Which part?”

“When Niko asked if you were keeping me.”

The question came lightly, too lightly. A feather laid over a blade.

You reached for him.

This time, Valko did not hesitate. He came into your space at once, as if pulled by a string tied somewhere behind his ribs. His hands settled at your waist, careful at first, then warmer when you didn't move away.

“I meant it,”

His eyes searched yours.

“For tonight?”

“For longer than that.”

He didn't kiss you immediately. Somehow, that made it worse. He stood there and let the answer enter him, slowly, like someone opening the door to a room he had been told was empty and finding it lit.

Inside, Mika yelled, “Are they kissing?”

Valko dropped his forehead to your shoulder.

“Leave them. He is finally being normal.”

You laughed.

He looked at you then, and the last of his embarrassment broke open into something bright, something almost boyish

“Welcome home,” he said, very softly.

You touched his cheek.

Behind him, the old house breathed and creaked and held its golden noise. Inside, his family waited with tea, teeth, stories, and a place at the table already made yours.

“Welcome home, Valko.”

© 2026, xxsyluslittlecrowxx. dividers by @uzmacchiato

[shytothemaxx]

Bring my puppy boy back!!

[qintten]

valko nuzzles ━ ✧ ₊˚ 🐺

f!mc and m!mc versions f2u gifs/stickers with or without cred! #bringbackvalko (╥ᆺ╥;) 🐺🍫

[heartyluv]

contains: dry humping & some domesticity. that's it that's all ^.^ wc: 1.9K (idk how i did that) i did proofread, but yk... ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜

so easy to fall in love ♡

“saturday? yeah, i got it. well, tell auntie that we’ll try our best to be there, but i can’t make any promises.”

your eyebrows furrow and your lips morph into a curious pout as you zone in on the tail end of your boyfriend’s phone call. the movie you had been streaming immediately became unimportant with the brief mention of his family claiming your full attention instead.

likely referring to another impromptu get-together that they’re clearly asking for you both to attend, you were itching to learn the details of it over the plot of a film you admittedly had little interest in before you even pressed play. the fact that the volume hadn’t made it past ten should’ve been enough to emphasize its insignificance.

“doesn’t matter to me, but i’ll ask her and see what she thinks.” valko exhales with a hum of approval in acknowledgment to whatever else his cousin was relaying, leaning back and tilting his head so that his temple can rest comfortably against your knee. with the warmth of him against you and the soft caress of his fingers along and around your ankle, little moments like these made you cherish having a man so mindlessly affectionate.

to call your boyfriend clingy was an understatement, but it was something about him that you’d never trade for anything in the world. the moment you welcomed him into your life with open arms and kissed him sweetly when he confidently asked you with the silliest smile to be his girl forever, you knew what kind of relationship it was bound to be.

to this day, it didn’t matter if he had important phone calls, intricate things to study up on, or confidential documents to overlook and analyze. one thing for certain was that he would always do any and all of it wherever you were if he could.

ten minutes go by before he’s finally sitting up and removing the earbuds from his ears and the whole headset from around his neck. whatever work he had been click-clacking away at for the last two hours after taking a shower and having dinner was disregarded when he shuts the screen of his laptop and turned to look up at you holding the cute wolf plushie he’d won for you a couple months back.

“everything okay?” you ask him softly as he faces you completely, reaching out to gently rake your fingernails through the soft and now fully dried hair right behind his ear.

getting to watch that handsome face of his fall completely relaxed and content was truly a sacred experience. his immediate submission is something you frequently tease him for when compared to his cocky demeanor, but you both knew you’d never hear the end of it should you stop for any reason.

“yeah, it’s all good. random brunch for the third time this month over the weekend. you up for it? by all means, say no if you prefer to just chill with the love of your life or whatever.”

“you and your family are just too cute. once again, i’m reminded where you get all that audacity from.”

valko grins at the giggle you can’t contain, continuing to explore the softness of your skin as you both doted on the other silently. settling between your legs while he sits on the floor was on the top of his list of his preferred kind of intimacy. “but you know i’m down if you are. i go where you go. i mean duhhh, that’s how we always move. like a pack, right?”

he leans deeper into your touch, eyes nearly falling shut completely from the euphoria he gets out of the way you love on him with one of the things he classifies as a guilty pleasure. truthfully, he wasn’t secretive about such an obsession at all, but what was known didn’t always need to be said out loud. unless used against him, of course.

“didn’t even give you any info on it yet and you’re already so eager to follow me like a good little pup, huh?”

“oh, i’m the eager one?” the protest ready to fall from his lips is first expressed in the pinch of his brows when your hand slips away from the stimulation being given to one of his favorite spots. his expressions had the tendency to give away any thoughts before he could say a word. it’s why he always says you read him better than any book he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“what the fuc—”

“watch it,” you warn playfully. whatever was to be said is swallowed down when the pads of your fingertips begin tracing the defined outline of his jawline before resting on the underside of his chin. “so quick to start with me. aren’t you supposed to be my good boy?”

valko takes your lighthearted taunting as a challenge, grasping you by the wrist and bringing it up to his nose to inhale your addictive scent and the faint aroma of your perfume.

“aren’t i always?”

“you have your moments. i’ve gotta say though, obedience looks super sexy on you.”

“hm. i bet it does.” his grin brings out the subtle dimples in his cheeks. “is it my turn to make a move now?”

he’s pulling you off the couch and on top of him before you’re capable of offering a response to his vague request. the two of you are caught in a laughing fit all the way down until his back hits the plush rug and you’re settled in his lap.

the chuckles are interrupted when you feel his not-so-little friend prodding at you for some kind of attention.

“oh, you perv.”

“perv? that’s not a nice thing to say to the man of your dreams, now is it?” he’s slipping his hands beneath your shorts as his palms slide up the outside of your thighs. “i just consider this instinctual. others would say natural. can’t blame me for what i can’t control.”

the heaviness of his hardening cock pressing into you from below had a steadily increasing heartbeat thumping in your panties. from the soft look he sports with his glasses, the oversized red sweater you got him last christmas, and the dark gray sweats doing nothing to conceal what you were quickly becoming unashamedly desperate for, no way were you getting off of him without some kind of relief.

valko watches you closely as you raise said sweater to sit below his chin, revealing the big, strong, and sculpted body that you’ve fallen helplessly head over heels for. he was hard where you were soft, and it was opposites like that that made you fit so well.

“would you look at that. and i’m the one being labeled a pervert. baby, i think we’re mixing things up.”

“can’t i admire my boyfriend? isn’t this natural?”

it’s almost like his eyes shine when you use his own words against him.

“‘course you can. in fact, you better. but…” he sniffs up at the air four times, a smug grin taking over his lips. “i’m sensing that admiration isn’t the only thing you’ve got planned in that big head of yours.”

“fuck off,” you laugh, pinching his nose. “and don’t act so tough.”

with one slow upward motion of your hips, the thickness pulsing against you seems to swell even bigger than before. his teeth tuck his bottom lip into his mouth from the sensation and his hold on your hips deepens, nails biting deliciously at your flesh. “admiration isn’t enough for you anyways.”

your lips fall to his quickly, tongues battling for a dominance you know he’d fight tooth and nail to be the one to conquer. but he throughly enjoys a biting prey and it’s why he loves you.

his hands are sliding out the fabric of your sleepwear to find purchase on other parts of your body the more heated your sensual exchange becomes. as he licks at the roof of your mouth and tries his hardest to devour you whole, you’re embraced by his large hands grabbing at you like the greedy beast he’s proud to be.

it’s when he makes his way back to your hips that you both know this wouldn’t last long. and when he starts to frantically guide you to grind against him faster, holding you down to feel him through the few layers of clothes that’s causing separation, instinctively you knew that it was in your best interest to prepare yourself for the more he was going to give soon after this.

“you’re not… hah—wearing underwear…” you breathe against his mouth glistening with your shared saliva. you’re quick to take off his glasses from the growing frustration of them getting in your way of being closer, discarding them towards the plush cushions with fingers crossed for a safe landing.

“aren’t you smart.” the teasing inflection in his tone and the deepness of his voice has your cunt throbbing to the point of growing uncomfortable.

your clit continues to ache the more you move with him, nipples grazing underneath your top and begging to be sucked into his mouth.

“sit up,” he says breathlessly with another sloppy kiss to your partially swollen lips.

he keeps you moving on his cock as you rise, lustful gaze focused on the way your shorts ride up your thighs and cling to your pussy from how taut he’s got them pulled to increase the friction. the outline of his dick moving against it back and forth, trying its best to nestle in between—the visual alone has him bucking up and trying to make that a reality.

valko’s hands slide up the sides of your torso and his thumbs delicately play with your peaked nipples beneath your t-shirt.

“val,” you whine, resting your hand on his chest to keep you steady as you try your hardest to not lose your shit from the sensitivity taking over everywhere. “w-want it inside. want it so bad…”

“you open that pretty mouth for everything else.” he flicks them this time to make you tense and for tears to damn near overfill both your waterlines. “should’ve just said how much you wanted to be fucked way sooner, pup. saves us so much time.”

but you can’t wait for that now, not when you’re so close. the lone idea of stopping was aggravating enough.

your head falls back from the insatiable manner in which you chase your high, using his body to the highest degree to help get you there.

“you smell so sweet,” he coos through a husky moan. “mm. you’ll let me taste it later? it’s not good to be stingy.”

“right t-there,” you mewl, pressing your lips together before your vision practically blurs and and has you seeing dots. your orgasm is cataclysmic, and valko keeps your momentum going despite the clear overstimulation you’re experiencing. hearing you sing for him like this and watching you fall apart was worth your little hits of retaliation later.

he’s not far behind you either, thick spurts of sticky cum making a complete mess in his pants soon after you cave and quickly seeps through the material to add to the wet spot in between your legs.

both of you sit breathless with the sound of your forgotten movie still playing and being the only thing to fill the silence.

“you can taste it if i can taste you, too.”

“a deal?” he raises an eyebrow as if he’s open to negations. “other than the obvious, what’s really in it for me?”

of course he never misses an opportunity to play coy.

“keep making me feel good…” your thumb swipes along his bottom lip. “and maybe you’ll find out. or are you too scared?”

you sure were bold to offer up another challenge like this. and he could show you better than he could promise that this time, he wouldn’t go easy.

a/n: ofc i haaaddd to write about that picture. i’m so obsessed with it. like i was genuinely imagining this…. i almost felt it—AND, i know we can’t really tell if he’s ooc or not but if you think he’s ooc… DON’T TELL ME!!!!!!! valko baby, you’re ALIVE over here. they can’t take you from me. i hope you enjoyed, my cuties. MWAH MWAH!!!

creds to @/pepsipoet for the scalloped dividers!!

[shytothemaxx]

Love this!!

[deltamel]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE, VALKO

[nottellingofname]

Day 6 of reblogging Valko media until he's back

[airasora]

Hey dudes, dudettes and dudles!

I can't believe my very first LaDS video is a cry for help to save a character who was canceled barely a week after he was announced, but alas, that is the situation we find ourselves in 😭

For those unaware, here is the TL;DR

Valko is the long-awaited sixth love interest in the highest grossing otome game of all time Love and Deepspace by Chinese company Infold. For reasons still debated, a part of the players, mostly the Chinese part, absolutely HATED Valko the moment his first trailer dropped. Majority of complaints were about his looks, such as racist remarks about him being "too tan" and that he "looked gay" for being very muscular. After just 8 days after his announcement, Infold declared that not only was Valko now canceled, but they wouldn't release any new love interests ever.

Not only was this devastating for the players who were excited for the new love interest and already felt emotionally attached to Valko, but for the massive team who had been working on him as a character, developed his story, given him his voice and animated him for YEARS just for his release to be canceled before he was given a chance.

Ever since then, players have fought tooth and nail to get Valko back, everything from boycotting the game, leaving negative reviews, signed petitions, sending emails, unfollowing all of LaDS' social medias to donating to wolf rescues.

Infold has been radio silent ever since canceling Valko, which is now the longest they have ever gone without posting anything anywhere. We are taking this as a good sign, and we will keep fighting, not just for Valko, but for the players and team who were completely betrayed through his cancelation.

This isn't just about a fictional character; it's about blatant favoritism of one part of the player base and rewarding bigoted and hateful behavior. Please help us save this character and the game's future!

SIGN THE PETITIONS HERE https://www.ipetitions.com/p/bring-back-valko-as-a-love-interest-as-it-was-intended/

https://www.change.org/p/bring-valko-back?recruiter=536223641&recruited_by_id=e81decf0-1150-11e6-a90a-4b597d9c5383&utm_source=share_petition&utm_campaign=psf_promote_or_share&utm_term=psf_combo_share_initial&utm_medium=copylink&share_id=MkB6K4kF26

[xiexielians]

We were probably in a "you're mine" sorta dynamic?

[shytothemaxx]

I want my puppy back! GIVE HIM BACK INFOLD!!!

[mcniak]

🐺NERDY VALKO🐺

[calebunny]

Valko puts u in Air jail

“Okay, that’s it.”

You were busy absentmindedly gnawing on Valko’s arm like a feral, teething puppy. “Huh–”

Your voice was cut off as he stood up from his chair, turning toward you and picking your body clean off the ground.

“I’m gonna have to put you in air jail now, pup.”

“What?! Val, what are you– c’mon, why?” you flailed in his hold, arms and legs thrashing in the air, but his grip on your waist remained steady, as if you weighed absolutely nothing.

Realizing you weren't going to be put down anytime soon, you resorted to just pouting up at him, your body going completely limp like a doll being held up.

“You know why. You have been very distracting while I’m working.”

You looked down at his well developed arms, finding them littered with blooming red and purple bite marks. The view had the exact opposite effect on you, your cheeks flushed hot, and you practically drooled.

Valko gave you a light shake to snap your focus back to him. “Eyes on me now.”

“Five more minutes of this,” he said, tilting his head. It was the look of a man who was absolutely not playing.

“Then you’ll learn to be better behaved, won’t you?”

[shytothemaxx]

This is so cuuuuttttteeeee!!!!!

[calebunny]

Valko puts u in Air jail

“Okay, that’s it.”

You were busy absentmindedly gnawing on Valko’s arm like a feral, teething puppy. “Huh–”

Your voice was cut off as he stood up from his chair, turning toward you and picking your body clean off the ground.

“I’m gonna have to put you in air jail now, pup.”

“What?! Val, what are you– c’mon, why?” you flailed in his hold, arms and legs thrashing in the air, but his grip on your waist remained steady, as if you weighed absolutely nothing.

Realizing you weren't going to be put down anytime soon, you resorted to just pouting up at him, your body going completely limp like a doll being held up.

“You know why. You have been very distracting while I’m working.”

You looked down at his well developed arms, finding them littered with blooming red and purple bite marks. The view had the exact opposite effect on you, your cheeks flushed hot, and you practically drooled.

Valko gave you a light shake to snap your focus back to him. “Eyes on me now.”

“Five more minutes of this,” he said, tilting his head. It was the look of a man who was absolutely not playing.

“Then you’ll learn to be better behaved, won’t you?”

[lvl1l1]

Valko is convinced he’s being subtle.

He’s “just stretching” when he reaches over and pulls you into his lap while you’re trying to fold laundry. He’s “just making sure you’re warm” when he wraps his big arms around you and tucks you against his chest. He’s “just checking” when he leans down to nuzzle the top of your head for the fifth time in ten minutes.

You’re not even mad. How could you be?

Especially when his tail is wagging so hard behind him it’s practically creating a breeze, and his ears keep twitching happily every time you relax into him.

“You’re clingy today,” you tease, tilting your head back to look up at him.

“Am not,” he mumbles, but the way he immediately tightens his hold around your waist says otherwise. He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in like he needs it to survive. “Just like having you close. That’s all.”

You giggle and reach up to scratch behind one of his ears. The second you do, a low, happy rumble vibrates in his chest and his tail starts thumping even faster against the couch.

“Uh huh. Sure, big guy.”

He pretends to huff but ends up pressing a bunch of soft kisses along your shoulder instead, tail still going crazy. You’re both smiling like idiots.

Eventually he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes soft and warm.

“…Can we stay like this a little longer?” he asks, suddenly shy.

You melt instantly, cupping his face and pulling him down for a proper kiss.

“Of course, baby. As long as you want.”

Valko’s tail does a full happy spin behind him as he tucks you closer again, perfectly content being your personal radiator.

[mephisto-reporting]

And that's the part that's making me lose my fucking mind.

We lost an entire section of the MAIN STORY.

The livestream literally told us Valko's release was going to reveal more about the Aethercore—one of the biggest mysteries in Love and Deepspace and something that's been central to the plot from the very beginning.

So now what?

You think they can just delete him and nothing changes?

Do people genuinely think you can rip out an entire story arc without consequences?

Everything that was supposed to be revealed through Valko now has to be rewritten, redistributed, or outright cut. The main story is going to have to be retconned. Future updates are going to have to be reworked. Characters may have to be rewritten just to fill the gap he leaves.

If you're celebrating this because you "won," I sincerely hope you understand what you've actually cheered for.

You guys fucking derailed the story.

[kaokaoriii]

We love you Valko

He will come home ૮◞ ‸ ◟ ა

[tokamiart]

Sadly, I don’t have the time to make something bigger, but now isn’t the time to stay quiet! Bring him back! 🫵🐺💜

You made a huge mistake by ignoring us and the consequences are noticeable