୨୧ — You were drooling, eyes rolling back as you dug your nails into his shoulders trying to slow Valko down. Useless. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back as he drove into you, his name falling from your lips like a prayer between desperate pants.
“V-Val- hhahh- Val-ko- s'too- m'gonna- too m-much-“
Words? What were those? Your brain had turned to mush about three orgasms ago.
A whimper caught in your throat. Tears pricked at your lashes at the stretch, at being so fucking full, like he'd shoved your organs aside to make room.
“Hah-“ His voice broke, and you could feel every muscle in his body trembling, fighting something feral as his tail lashed wildly behind him. “Tryna be gentle but you-“
He fucked you like a beast anyway. Forehead pressed to yours, ears flat against his head, panting into your mouth. Your slick made the filthiest sounds every time he thrust home and when his teeth found your neck hard enough to break skin, the noise you made had his rhythm stuttering.
“Sorry- ngh- didn't mean-“ But he didn't stop. Couldn't.
His hand slid under your back, arching you up into him. The other pinned your wrist to the mattress. Blood smeared across your throat from his lips.
“That's it, that’s my good girl-“ Completely gone. Ruined.
You came screaming and do you think that made him slow down? Fuck no. He didn't slow down even a little.
“Again.” Barely a whisper. Begging. Pleading for just one more scream from those pretty lips…
“Valko- can't- no more-“
His ears drooped, this wounded little sound in his chest, “I know babe, m'sorry-“ His hips snapped forward anyway, “what’s a pup supposed to do? You just feel so good- cant- shit- can’t stop-“
Your cunt was a sloppy, ruined mess at this point- syrupy strings of your cum and arousal coating his cock, smearing creamy across your inner thighs. You could feel yourself dripping between your ass, making a puddle beneath you.
Then something big started pressing at your entrance.
You felt it before your sex stupid brain could process it- this thick, swelling pressure at your already stuffed hole. Stretching you wider. Wider. Too wide-
His knot.
It shoved inside with a wet POP and you shrieked, back bowing clean off the mattress, nails carving bleeding trenches down his spine. The sudden fullness -that fat bulge locking him in, plugging you up, pressing against every sensitive nerve- had your vision whiting out again. Your cunt spasmed around him, another orgasm cresting before the last one even finished, milking his knot in desperate fluttering clenches.
“Huh? What happened?” Total confusion. His ears shot up, head tilting, “You alright babe? Did I do something?”
“Your- your fucking knot- fuckfuckfuck-“ you choked out.
“What?” He blinked down at you, all golden puppy eyes while his monster sized knot split you in half, “What's wrong with it?”
“Ser -seriously? Sh’too- It's s’too big-“
“It is?” As he smirks he shifts his weight and you damn near passed out, “seems fine to me?”
You laughed -or sobbed, hard to tell- and it broke into a moan when he rolled his hips experimentally. You grabbed his hand and shoved it down between your bodies, pressing it against the bulge in your lower belly. Obscene. Fucking obscene.
“Valko.”
He looked down. Blinked. His tail started wagging. Actually wagging!
“Oh wow.” Like he'd found something mildly interesting, “That's pretty crazy.”
“YEAH.”
“Does it actually hurt?” He pressed against the bulge with genuine curiosity and your eyes nearly rolled back into your skull. Tail still going.
“Do you- hahh- do you seriously not know- how huge-“
“Dunno, never measured?” He dropped a casual kiss on your forehead, sweet as anything, while his fat fucking knot throbbed like it was trying to reshape your insides. “Always been like this. Annnnd those noises don’t really convince me you’re in pain.”
You were gonna fucking murder him. Right after you finished losing your mind on his cock.
He ground down into you and you came so hard you forgot your own name, pussy clenching around him like a goddamn vice.
“Oh- shit- shit-“ Finally cracking, his voice going high and whiney, “Squeezing me so tight, you’re gonna make me-“
He buried his face in your neck and came with a broken whine, and you felt it- pulse after pulse of hot cum pumping into you, filling you up til your belly rounded out even more. His arms caged you in, tail thumping against the mattress as he bred you full.
“S'good,” he slurred against your throat…
“Valko,” you whimpered, brain leaking out your ears., “M'so full-“
“Mm?” He sounded so pleased with himself.
Still absolutely clueless.
Way later -who even knows how long- he was still on top of you, weight braced on his elbows so he didn't crush you. His knot pulsed lazy and another warm gush filled you up.
“Hey,” he mumbled into your hair, and you could hear the grin in his voice.
“Mm.”
“So...” His fingers walked playfully up your side, making you squirm- which only made you clench around his knot and whimper, “You think my knot's big, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“Nah but like-“ He propped himself up to look at you, smirking, tail swishing, “You were really loud about it. Pretty sure the neighbors know now.”
“I hate you.”
“Mmhm.” He rolled his hips just slightly -enough to make you gasp- and his grin widened. “That why you're still milking my cock right now?”
Your face burned, “I- I can't- it's involuntary-“
“Sure it is.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling, “S'okay baby. I think it's cute how much you love my huge knot.”
“I never said-“
“‘S'so fucking big Valko,'”he mimicked in a breathy voice, and you smacked his chest while he snickered. “'Your knot Valko, oh my god-“
“I do NOT sound like that.”
“You kinda do.” Another lazy grind. Another gush of cum. His eyes glittered. “Wanna hear what else you said? Got real creative toward the end there.”
You shoved at his shoulder uselessly. He didn't budge, just laughed and buried his face in your neck, pressing smiling kisses to your skin.
“M'just teasing, babe” His tail curled around your thigh, “youre cute when you're embarrassed.” He nuzzled the tippy top of your head.
“I'm gonna kill you when your knot finally goes down.”
“Mm, that's fair.” He snuggled closer, entirely unbothered, “Gives me like twenty more minutes to annoy you though.”
His hips shifted again, lazy and deliberate, and the noise you made was mortifying.
It’s been days. No texts, no stupid voice notes of him rambling about his day, no random “you eat yet?” messages as soon as you got off work like clockwork. This isn’t Valko. Your puppy is glued to his phone when it comes to you. So after one too many hours of anxious pacing, you grab the spare key he gave you months ago (“just in case, sweetheart”) and storm over to his place.
Your heart is hammering the whole way. Worst case scenarios flash through your head, him passed out, bleeding, hurt over something he didn’t tell you about. You’d take that.
But the second you push the door open, the air hits you like whiplash.
Stuffy. Thick. Heavy with something musky, sweet, and feral that makes your stomach flip. That’s when you hear it, muffled, desperate panting, broken groans, the faint creak of a bedframe.
Your brain short circuits. You don’t think. Before you have time to mentally catch up, you just move, storming straight to his massive bedroom and shoving the door open.
And holy fuck.
Valko is sprawled across his bed, completely naked, skin glistening with sweat. His ears are fully out, twitching wildly. His tail thumps hard against the sheets. He’s fisting his cock with frantic, sloppy strokes, that’s when you notice; it’s huge, thick, flushed dark and leaking all over his abs. His chiseled chest heaves, abs flexing with every desperate roll of his hips. Those thick thighs are trembling. And when your eyes finally drag up to his face… his eyes are glazed over, cheeks flushed crimson, and there are actual tears clinging to his lashes.
He looks wrecked
You’re frozen in the doorway, mouth hanging open unable to look away from the obscene sight. The way his big hand struggles to even wrap fully around himself. The way his hips keep bucking up like he can’t stop. The wet, filthy sounds filling the room.
Before you can even process it, his movements stutter to a halt.
Wide, frantic golden eyes snap to yours. His ears shoot straight up. For a second he just stares at you, chest still heaving, cock twitching hard in his grip like it has a mind of its own.
Then something clicks behind that hazy gaze.
“…You’re here,” he rasps, voice wrecked and deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A broken groan slips out as something seems to overwhelm him, making his hips jerk involuntarily into his fist again. “Fuck- you… you shouldn’t see me like this-“
♱⋅── about: valko gets turned on when you beat him in play fighting, especially when you get a little rough? Yes or yes?
♱⋅── wc: 3.2k
♱⋅── warnings: mdni. smut, breeding kink, scent kink, knotting, mate mentioned, dry humping, sub!valko, puppy coded valko, size difference, we love big subby men
One hundred forty-three rounds later, and you’ve finally won.
Every bulging, sweaty muscle strains as you laugh on top of Valko for the final lunge, pinning him by his throat and waist into the mats below.
“Haha, and that’s victory for me!”
He grumbles in response, pouting although you see the ghost of a smile curl against his lips. “Ya right. You tripped me, dirty little minx.”
You coo at his adorable sulking, “Big bad wolf can't handle a little bit of dirty play?” Pressing your forearm harder, you watch something dark flicker in Valko’s eyes as his breath stutters. “Don’t you know your enemies will be ready to exploit your every weakness?”
The room is filled with both of your ragged breathing, sweat dripping between your tanged bodies, undoubtedly soaking through your bra and shorts. The air sticks to you, hot and sticky.
Valko takes a deep inhale, chest rising under your palm, before going unnaturally still. The stillness of a predator ready to jump.
You tense, anticipating him to wrestle you off and begin the next match, and yet it never comes.
No. Instead, you’re met with the unmistakable feeling of something growing harder, larger, pushing up against your clothed ass.
The flush on your face is no longer just from exhaustion.
“Did you- are you—”
Valko’s whine cuts you off, his eyes screwed shut as if in horrible pain. “Don’t. Please.”
He’s trembling. Every hulking muscle under you straining as his enormous palms come up to cup your thighs, nails digging in.
“I just,” Valko lets out another whine, pitched and desperate, his amber eyes snapping open and begging up at you no better than a puppy would. “Ah shit, you’re so perfect. Fight perfect, smell perfect,” one broad hand goes to your ass, squeezing hard enough to pull a startled yelp from you, the sound shooting through him like another strike. “Feel perfect.”
Fuck.
Something about losing to you, about the ache blooming through his body where your blows had landed, the solid weight of you pinning him effortlessly into the worn training mats… perhaps it should have bruised his pride or made him fired up.
Instead, it leaves Valko fucking dizzy.
Your scent surrounds him, swallowed with every inhale Valko takes, intoxicating and cloying on his tongue as though he could taste you already. It’s sweet and a little spicy, like cardamom or amber, filling his brain with static as his every instinct narrows down on you and your body. To lay claim. To take.
He doesn't mean to keep nuzzling into your sweat-slicked body. One breath isn't enough, then another isn't either, every deeper pull filling his head with a pleasant, humming need that leaves less and less room for coherent thought.
Acceptance.
Need.
Mate.
Despite your full weight still pinning him to the floor, Valko's hips buck sharply up into yours, nearly throwing you off him. But his hand tightens against your ass, forcing you down into the movement at the exact same time he grinds his still-growing erection right up into your clothed pussy.
You both moan at the mere contact.
More. He needs more.
His hips don’t stop moving, pushing up into you with quick little rabbit thrusts, Valko’s head thrown back in a deep, unashamed moan as he chases the friction. His jaw opens, nearly drooling, about to manhandle you into a better position to grind against when you lean back down.
And slap him right across the face.
Immediately, he freezes, blinking and shaking away the shock and arousal from his face. His cock jumps from between your thighs, though, and that’s all the confirmation you need as Valko looks back up at you with wide eyes.
“Behave, puppy.”
You place your hand around his neck, grinding your hips backward as you watch Valko’s eyes roll back.
“I won,” you remind him. “That means you listen to me.”
He nods with so much enthusiasm you almost worry about his neck.
“Yeah, yes. Of course. I can take it, please.” Anything, anything for you to keep touching him.
Your hips are flush against his, grinding up and down just like you would be if you were riding him. The thought alone has Valko moaning louder, completely uncaring if anyone heard, voice hoarse as you squeeze his throat tighter.
It’s teasing both of you to insanity, so close and not nearly close enough. Friction hot and pressing right up against your clit, but doing nothing to ease the growing ache between your thighs. It doesn't help that the outline of his dick is enough to grind on, wide enough to part your lips and feel strain against your clothed pussy. Fuck, imagining all that power, that size stretching inside you…
You’re no better than animals in heat, gasping and panting as your hips never stop moving, spine arching as his tip catches your clit. “Ahhh, good job, baby, making me feel so good. Good boy.”
Valko keens at the praise. “Thank you, thank you. I’m your good boy, I’ll be such a good boy.”
He’s drooling as he writhes beneath you, nails clawing into the floor with the restraint it takes not to flip you over and rip your shorts off before fucking until both of you pass out. Bite and mark you as his. Fill you with his seed until he’s shooting blanks, watch you drip with his cum, push his knot inside you and cum again and again and again—
You laugh. Poor thing doesn’t even realize he’s moaning all of this out loud.
“Shhh, I’ll let you, puppy.” Leaning down, you kiss him just to shut him up, licking into his open mouth. “I’ll let you breed me.”
“Fuuuck yes.”
Valko’s tongue shoves into your mouth, hot, invasive, lapping into the kiss. You let him, kissing with teeth and tongue, spit spilling down the side of his mouth as he takes more and more. He bullies himself closer, greedy for every scrap of attention, chasing each inch you’re willing to give and always reaching for one more.
“I’m sorry, feels so good, too good.” Valko groans, every thrust becoming more sloppy, and you can tell from how sloppy his kisses are and the unevenness of his thrusts that he’s already close.
You click your tongue as though reprimanding a spoiled pet before breaking the kiss, hand tightening around his throat.
Valko breaks away instantly with a sharp gasp, chest heaving. His eyes snap to yours, dazed and teary, as though being stopped is its own reward. “Sorry, m’sorry. Please keep kissing me, please, I’m sorry.” Another whimper. “You said you’d help me, ya? P-please baby, let me cum.”
“And let you stain my favorite gym shorts with your cum? I don’t think so, puppy,” you scold, teasing your fingers up his rough undercut.
His breath catches so abruptly his whole body gives a tiny, involuntary jolt, shoulders loosening beneath your hand as a slow shiver rolls down his spine at the mere touch. If his ears were manifested, they would be pulled back, his body chasing the sensation before his mind could catch up, leaning instinctively into your palm like some half-domesticated thing desperate for another touch.
Every instinct urges him to reclaim your mouth, to grind back into your clothed pussy, but he forces himself still. Because that’s what you’ve taught him to do.
What a good boy.
Lifting your hips, Valko sobs at the loss of your heat. Your free hand reaches down instead, shucking down his sweat-drenched shorts and boxers in one tug, his cock bouncing out from its confines.
It springs against Valko’s abdomen with a wet slap, every bulging, veiny inch a sensitive pink, tip swollen and leaking all over his pretty red happy trail.
Valko whines, bucking into the air, “Please-ohhh-please let me in you. I’ll make you feel s’good, I’ll be so good. Ah fuck, come on.”
Something, anything to release this unbearable pressure swelling up at the base of his dick.
So you slap him again, and this time the second the crack echoes across the room so does his moan. A fresh spurt of pre-cum stains his abs, so much leaking and spilling down his stomach, you’re damn near concerned.
“Shh, don’t be too loud, someone might hear how desperate you are, baby.” You kiss his forehead and strip.
First you peel off the sports bra, then kick down your shorts and panties, smiling at Valko’s star-struck expression before dropping back down completely bare onto his muscular thighs.
“Come here, puppy.”
He obeys immediately, sitting up faster than humanly possible and ramming his lips onto yours, hands fighting to cup your breasts before he thinks better of it and curls them against his sides into trembling fists.
You hum into the kiss, guiding his hands up to your skin, “Go on, you can touch me.”
Two massive arms engulf you. Valko’s already nuzzling into your bare chest, mouthing at the lines of sweat collected from your sports bra, hot tongue dragging against every inch of skin. There’s no rhythm, no logic, just sloppy licking between your breasts before sucking at your nipples, around and up until he’s at your collarbone, every sensation so overwhelming that you feel yourself soaking his thigh.
“M’sorry, can’t stop. Taste so sweet…” Valko’s licking another long strip up your neck before finding a spot that makes you whine, nipping and teething at it while his hands come up to pinch and roll your swollen nipples. You moan at the feeling of it all, hips rolling against his quads as he purposefully tenses the ridges of muscle underneath you, letting you grind against him.
Once again, the two of you are humping each other like dogs, except this time there’s no more clothing to get in the way.
Your bare cunt envelopes his throbbing cock, every movement heightened by loud, wet sounds of the two sliding together, pseudo fucking in a way that drives both of you insane. The taste and smell of you is overwhelming, Valko dipping his head to suck at your nipple while bucking up into you, abs flexing, drenched with sweat and your combined slick as his cock drags past your clit, pressing desperately right up against your cunt before slipping to your ass and coming right back again.
His frustration is becoming obvious. Low growls muffled into your chest as grinding turns to proper thrusting, tip ramming at your entrance just too thick to push in and your thighs too slippery to find purchase.
“Shit! it’s not– not fitting. Please, let me in.” He’s begging, drooling against your chest. ”Please sweetheart, please doll.”
You want it just as badly. So you tug on his hair, pulling Valko on top of you as you lie down, and slowly turning yourself around until your chest is pressed into the training mats beneath you.
Valko’s frozen like a predator just narrowed in on a prey.
Except that prey is you. Your teasing smile lured him in, and your bare, dripping cunt presented to him like heaven mere inches from his drooling face.
Arching your back deeper, you smile as you finally give him what he’s been dying for. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, Valko, ya? Wanna knot me?”
He’s barely breathing, golden eyes glowing slightly as they lock with yours, unblinking. “Yes.”
Then, he pounces.
In a blink, his six-foot-something body slams into yours, shoving your face into the floor, one arm effortlessly forcing your ass higher to meet his hips and the other pinning your back into a deep arch to accommodate the weight of his chest now pressed against your spine.
Completely mounted, your muscles scream from the stretch and pressure his body gives, his heavy cock still leaking violently from between your spread thighs, thrusting between them, a puddle of his pre-cum splattering down between you.
You laugh into the mats, right where you want to be as you goad him into taking all that he wants and more. “Go on then, puppy. Claim me, take me, make me yours—!”
You can’t even finish your teasing before Valko bullies himself inside you with one violent thrust. Hands dig grooves into your thighs, pawing at your ass, stomach, chest, all while pulling you backward into every powerful thrust.
Valko’s head drops with another unashamed moan, tongue lolling out to lick at your nape and spine, drooling with every tight flutter your walls squeeze around him. God, you’re gushing. He’s glued to the mess where your bodies meet, your ass bouncing with each thrust, taking him so perfectly he’s losing his mind.
“Ohhh you feel so good.” Pressing deeper, his hand snakes around to press against your lower stomach, feeling the outline of his dick as you scream into the floor. Valko groans, babbling into your ear as his hips snap faster. “I know pretty thing. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
He’s repeating it against your neck between licks and nibbles, still not letting up any of his force. You feel something unmistakable swell against the curves of your ass, knocking against your cunt and thick enough to hit your clit too, each slap making you sob from pleasure-pain.
“Gonna f-fuck my little mate full of my cum, then eat you out, then fuck you again—oh fuck. Love you and this perfect pussy,” Valko’s slurring his words, talkative as ever and loud enough for the entire training facility to hear him moan.
His thrusts turn deeper, unable to part with your heat, his knot grinding furiously against your clit as you feel your body begin to tremble. “She’s takin me so well, so tight. Mhmm I’ll fill her well, give her everything she wants, fuck her full-full of my knot.”
God, he needs to shut up or you’re going to cum.
“Shh,” you hush him before breaking into a moan. “Too loud, Valko. Someone could—ahh fuck—hear you!”
Oh, but he can’t! He can’t, not when he finally feels your pussy begin to cream around him with your impending orgasm, almost wet enough to take all of him and his knot! This is what you want too don’t you see? This is what his pretty little mate needs.
Valko can’t even comprehend what he’s saying anymore, just growling and moaning into your neck as he drops his arms to properly rub at your clit and tug at your sensitive nipples, biting down into the junction of your shoulder and neck as you squirt all over his thighs with a pitched scream.
“Good pup, good mate, keep cumming for me.” Valko licks at the pin-pricks of blood blooming from his bite, going right back to babbling into your ears as his thrusts turn rougher. “Ready to take me, have my knot, my cum, oooh youfeelsogood.”
In a last attempt to muffle your boyfriend's horny sobs, you squirm beneath him to grab your gym shorts and stuff Valko’s mouth with them, gagging him with the sweat-stained spandex. And he simply takes it, open mouth drooling all over your clothes as he gets drunk off the scent of your sweat and arousal stained into them.
You both gasp at the feeling of his knot finally pressing into your entrance, the swollen, heavy weight of it forcing you several more inches open before slipping back out. Again, and again.
Instinctively, you run away, like a bunny cornered by a wolf, writhing underneath him as Valko snarls, hands engulfing your hips entirely as he drags you back onto his cock, forcing you still with so little effort it's laughable. Nothing stops him from pressing in deeper and deeper, your poor cunt finally yielding to his knot, the burn making you drool into the floor as Valko moans into your makeshift gag.
It’s forever and only seconds, your orgasm-sensitive pussy drooling enough to help him slide in fully, greedily sucking up every extra inch he gives you until you both feel the pop! of his knot finally catching inside you. It presses every damn inch inside you so perfectly you cum again, wailing and trembling as your thighs begin to go limp.
No matter, Valko just holds you up anyway. It’s not like he could pull out of you now, even if he wanted to. Not until he filled you with his cum, at least.
You’re still shaking from the prolonged orgasm, and Valko lets the rest of your body fall to the floor, following you down until his body is smushed atop yours, pressing you both into a mean prone bone.
It just makes him feel bigger. Your head is spinning with all the sudden pressure, his fat tip kissing your cervix as he rocks back and forth, his knot still grinding into that squishy spot against your walls, the heat and weight of his chest pressing into your back, and of course, his muffled moans and rambles still going strong even through your panties.
“Cum, Valko.” You’re barely thinking straight either, already right at the edge again as Valko’s thrusts turn sloppy, his body shaking. “Fill me up, b-breed me. Become mine.”
He’s cumming.
Valko whimpers into your neck as his hips snap one last time into yours, grinding as you feel the warm gush of his release spurt violently inside you, filling and filling and filling you up. So much, too much. Too much that cum squirts out from even the tight plug of his knot, dripping down both of your thighs even as Valko whines at the waste.
He doesn’t seem to fully realize he’s done, still rolling his hips into yours, each one powerful enough to drag your bodies tangled along the floor.
“Nooo, Valko,” you whine, trapped under his weight and still inflated with his knot. “Valko, stop, sensitive! Too sensitive.”
Your hands helplessly shove and push backward at the enormous man lying on top of you, not even budging him as he continues to nuzzle himself into your sweat-slicked back.
Finally, you manage to yank your clothes out from his mouth, releasing him from the gag as he simply sighs in pleasure, licking and nipping at your ear before dragging his tongue in a long, messy line down your neck.
“You’re so heavy. Get. Off!” Each word is a shove, but Valko only laughs at the effort. He does take mercy on your poor abused body though, and grabbing your waist with one hand, rolls the two of you over. You now rest on his plush chest instead, both of you heaving as you lie still pumped full of his knot and cum.
“M’sorry, guest instinct just took over there, y’know? You’re not hurt, are you?”
been seeing those "climbing my boyfriend to see if he'll notice" videos and valko would 1000% let you climb him like a jungle gym while not batting an eye. he doesn't even notice you setting up your phone and pressing record because he's so locked into his work. you would start climbing up onto the back on his chair and fully swinging your legs over his shoulders to the front of his chest. and the only thing he thinks to do is to hold your legs and stabilize you and as you continue your ascent to fully sit on his shoulders.
his eyebrows are still furrowed but softer now that you're in his presence. you tug on his hair like ratatouille and he's so surprised by the force that he yelps and actually goes with you. of course, he catches you and steers you back to center. the giggles are off the charts as valko has been accustomed with your silly ways. you comb his hair back and scratch his scalp as he taps away on his keyboard.
you try and ask questions to see if you can rile him up but he is genuinely so happy with answering them.
"whatcha doin?"
i'm just finishing these reports honey bunches of oats, i'll be done in 10 minutes max.
"what does that mean?"
it's just an identifier we use for the different types of metals we have.
"what should we have for dinner?"
mmm, maybe that yummy chicken you made last week. i thought about it this morning.
"who's my pretty boy?" you reach under his chin and give him the lightest scratch. his eyes sparkle as he looks up at you, giving you that love sick puppy smile that shows his canines.
you don’t even know why you say it. you’re not the praising type. not really. you tease. you moan. you beg sometimes when he makes you—when he’s in one of those moods, all pushy and mean, telling you to use your manners, sweetheart, like he isn’t already two fingers deep and spreading you open slow just to watch your eyes roll.
and sylus isn’t the kind of guy who needs it either. he’s cold. not just at work. always. cold voice, cold hands, cold look over his shoulder like he’s already ten steps past you in his head. nobody phases him. nobody cracks him. nobody gets to touch him and see him at the same time.
but you do.
and he lets you.
and right now—he’s letting you fuck him soft and slow, chest to chest, mouth to mouth, your hips rolling lazy on top of his while his hand’s curled low around your ass, guiding you, controlling you even when you’re the one on top. that’s how he likes it. how he needs it.
so maybe it’s that. maybe it’s the look on his face. maybe it’s the way his brows are twitching together, like he’s fighting something off—like if he lets you go even a little harder he’s gonna say something stupid, something real.
you’re already gone. you feel too good. you’re too wet. you’re not thinking. so you say it. “you feel so good, sylus.” just like that. soft. breathy. like you mean it. and the second you do—he freezes.
not all the way, not like he’s pulling back. more like he’s startled. like you hit something he didn’t know was there.
“…what?”
you blink down at him, rocking slow. “i said you feel good—”
“don’t.” his voice is raw. strained. quiet like it’s been scraped thin.
you laugh a little, teasing. “what, i’m not allowed to praise you now?”
“no,” he mutters. “you’re not.”
but he’s gripping you harder. his thighs are trembling. he’s looking at you like he’s pissed, but underneath it—underneath that perfect, surgical composure—he’s wrecked.
and you know why. you know him. you know this man who never needs anything, who never lets anyone in, who fucks you like he’s punishing himself for liking it—and now you know what breaks him.
“baby,” you whisper, soft as sin. “you’re so deep. you’re so good to me—so fucking good—”
his breath hitches. he shudders. his grip goes punishing and he grits through his teeth, “shut up,” but it’s not mean. it’s not real. it’s desperate.
so of course you don’t. of course you ride him slow and stroke his face and kiss his jaw and say, “you make me feel so good. you’re perfect. you always take care of me. nobody fucks me like you do—”
and that’s what does it. that. right there. because suddenly he’s groaning into your mouth like he’s never cum before in his life, like you’re fucking wringing the soul out of him with every word, every grind, every good boy whispered between your kisses.
he bucks once. spills deep. and he goes completely still underneath you, eyes wide, lips parted, chest heaving while he shoots every last drop into you without warning, without even knowing it’s happening until it’s too late, until you’re clenching around him and stroking his hair and smiling down like you knew this would happen all along.
you kiss his cheek. he doesn’t move.
“fuck,” he breathes. “you—fuck. don’t ever say that again.”
synopsis: after getting pricked by a porcupine, valko is sentenced to the cone of shame for 7 days. the vet has one additional instruction: avoid skin-to-skin contact with you.
slowly, he descends into depravity.
tags: fluff, smut, comfort, established relationship, porn with plot, sexual tension, porcupine, valko goes to the vet, poorly researched veterinary procedure, valko implied to have previously been sprayed by a skunk, this dog eats chocolate, plot gets progressively hornier, clingy valko, switch valko, begging, facesitting, cunnilingus, face riding, cum eating, doggy position, spit kink, scent kink, licking, light predator prey, light wrestling, floor sex, male masturbation, voyeurism, biting, manhandling, unprotected penetrative sex, knotting, at least i tried knotting im not too involved with that so i dont know for certain, shirt sniffing, pillow sniffing, these are out of order, poorly proofread
pairing: valko x fem reader
word count: 5.4k
a/n: may you forever frolic in that big forest in the sky 🕊️
“Koko! Where are you? We’re going to be late!”
Your gut swirls with worry as you check your phone again. It’s been over an hour—is he still not back from his run?
Any longer, and your reserved seats for the newest horror movie would be stolen for sure. Not that you think he’d mind, though—he usually curled up into you before the second act even started.
Peering around the backyard, you scan the dense, verdant woods in all directions. He’d never dedicated himself to any particular trail, which meant that he could return from anywhere.
It also meant that he could be anywhere right now.
Fighting a losing battle with unease, you slide your phone into your back pocket and take a few timid steps toward the forest. No matter where he was, he’d come running if you got into trouble. You knew that for certain. How many times had he jumped defensively in front of you only for a bunny or a bird to be the perceived threat? Still, the unpredictability of nature gives you pause.
Just as you inch forward a few more steps, there’s a rustle at the treeline.
You can hear that Valko's hurt before you can see it. Those breathy, frustrated whines—you’d recognize them anywhere. But where is he? How is he injured?
A wall of green stares back at you, refusing to answer.
You’re jogging toward the trees now, throwing caution to the wind as you follow the sounds of his pain. Just before you cross into the forest, you finally spot your boyfriend’s massive figure, his wine red hair being the giveaway. He’s facing a pine tree, tail stiff and laid low, touching his head and wincing repeatedly.
As he registers your scent and whips around to face you, you understand why: at least 15 black-tipped, spindly death daggers sprout from his cheeks and nose.
“Valko?” You cover your mouth in shock, and he stumbles closer, falling forward against you.
“Hurts,” he grunts.
Like always, you struggle to support his large body. Even more so now that one wrong move could further impale him. “What happened?”
“Porcupines are supposed to be nocturnal,” he says, voice grim and shaky. “This one wasn’t.”
If you had an extra hand, you’d drag it down your forehead right now.
Skunks, raccoons, exceptionally angry squirrels—those had all happened before. A porcupine, though? That was new. Almost impressive.
“You just get into all sorts of trouble, don’t you.” Taking a step back, you brace your hands on his chest to examine him. “Let me have a look at you.”
The quills look like toothpicks dipped in black ink. And while a few of them seem to have barely penetrated his skin, the majority mark the porcupine’s decisive victory.
“Can you take them out?” he asks, staring down at you pleadingly. “If we hurry, we can still make the movie on time. I know I’m super late. I’m sorry.”
Twenty of nature’s finest knives in his face, and he’s worried about the movies?
“You obviously had a reason,” you murmur, cupping his less-affected left cheek in your hand. “I don’t know if I should, Koko. The tomato bath was one thing, but this… If I do it wrong, I’ll just make it worse.”
His response is simple: “I trust you.”
Cute. But not what you need right now.
Blowing out a breath, you stand up on your tiptoes and reach for one of the looser quills. Your fingers barely brush the tip of it when renewed anxiety shoots through you. “No, no. I can’t! I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You couldn’t if you tried.” He snorts, then winces at the pain.
“Tell that to the porcupine.” You narrow your eyes. “I think it missed the memo.”
His ears swivel in acknowledgment. He’s 0–2 in battles today.
“All right, change of plans,” you announce, clapping your hands and turning on your heel. “We can go to the movies another day. Right now, we need to go to the vet.”
“It’s not that serious,” he protests. “I’d do it myself if I just had a mirror. Let’s go back to the house, and—”
“I’ll get the car ready.” Your word is final.
His ears droop atop his head.
Ultimately, you had to ease him into the passenger’s seat so he didn’t accidentally nudge any of the quills. You debated just shoving him into the trunk so he’d have extra room, but figured extraction would be a difficult task in the clinic’s often-packed parking lot.
In the waiting room, you try to shield him as best you can from quizzical looks and a particularly curious cat, but he’s without a doubt the largest patient in the room. Likewise, once he’s called to the back, his sheer size makes the exam room furniture look like dollhouse accessories. The central table is nearly the length of his tail alone, and it creaks under his every movement. But you stand dutifully at his side, making sure he’s as comfortable as can be, given the circumstances.
The vet’s entrance is prompt as always—part of the reason why Valko prefers this clinic. The other is the giant fish tank in the waiting room that he gets to busy himself with. Today, he was in too much pain, but he typically holds intense staring contests with its oblivious inhabitants, bragging to you whenever he “wins.”
“Well, I typically ask, ‘What seems to be the problem?’,” Dr. Song jokes as she shakes both of your hands. “But today, I don’t think that’s necessary.”
Sighing, Valko scratches at his jeans. “I went out for a run, and I heard something grunting in a bush nearby. I thought it might’ve been a lost pup, so I went to check it out. Anyone would, right?” He looks to you for support.
Smiling softly, you rub a hand down his back. “Right.” Not in most circumstances, no!
Nodding gratefully, he continues. “As soon as I crouched down and saw it, it whipped its tail at me. Next thing I knew, it had stabbed me a million times.”
“Well.” Dr. Song sighs and pulls out a pair of tweezers. “You’re not the worst case I’ve seen. Sometimes, it’s the whole face—and neck.” She waves her hand forward, and Valko scoots toward her on the table. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”
You take a step back to give her some space, but she quickly shakes her head. “Oh no, you stay standing next to him. I might need you to hold him down.”
──────
Right when you wonder if Valko’s death grip will shatter every bone in your hand, Dr. Song holds up the final quill in triumph. “That’s nineteen quills total. Looks like Mr. Porcupine let you off easy.”
Valko kicks the air in desolation. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
“It will when you wake up tomorrow and you don’t have to wonder, ‘How did it even get my nostrils?’,” she retorts, heading to the door. “Now, let me just get your treatment, and you’ll be free to go.”
The second she steps into the hall, Valko turns to you and whimpers. “It hurts.”
Frowning in sympathy, you run your free hand through his hair. “How bad?”
“Really.”
You start to shush him and scratch the backs of his ears how he likes, but approaching footsteps force him to regain his composure. Still, when Dr. Song re-enters the room, he holds your hand a little tighter.
“All right,” she begins. “I’m going to disinfect and put ointment on the wounds, and…” She pulls out a familiar, conical object from behind her back.
Valko freezes as soon as he sees it. Your own mouth parts in shock.
Is that…?
No way.
“...to keep them from getting infected, either through scratching or contamination, I recommend you wear this recovery cone for a week. Just to be safe.”
When she waves the transparent cone through the air, Valko sputters in consternation. “You want to put me in jail?”
“Of course not. You’ve done nothing wrong. But to prevent further irritation, it’s best that for the next seven days, you only remove this from your neck when absolutely necessary. Also, you should avoid certain skin-to-skin activities that may aggravate the entry spots.”
You understand her implication, but Valko’s tail thrashes in unease. “What…what kind of activities?”
The doctor smiles down at him. “The usual. Scenting, kissing, anything further than that. Now! Raise your head for me so I can clean the punctures.”
Before he does, Valko gives you a look that needs no decoding: I think I’m gonna be sick.
Day 1
Your keys clatter on the kitchen counter as Valko trails inside behind you.
Knowing he’ll be glum about his current confinement, you try to get ahead of it, hoping you can offset the bad with so much good, he’ll forget about being in plastic prison.
“So, is there anything you want to do this evening? Watch a drama, make double chocolate chip cookies, play a video game? I could order in from your favorite steakhouse if you want. Or we could go for a walk?”
Despite your efforts, his lips stay curved downward. His ears barely twitch at the mention of his favorite things.
“Okay, what about—”
“I look dumb,” he mumbles suddenly, blinking at you through the cone. It surrounds his head like petals to a flower, stopping just above his nose. He looks like an upright bullhorn, or perhaps a frilled lizard, but you can’t tell him that.
“You look safe,” you say instead. “That’s what matters, yeah?”
“Not when I look dumb, too.” With a huff, he reaches behind his head, eager to free himself of Conecatraz. But before he can undo the clasp, you’re crossing your arms and tapping your foot, giving him a withering glare.
“You know you aren’t supposed to touch that. Put your hands down.”
“Make me.”
Oh, really? That’s how it is?
Scoffing, you cock your head at him, and the first signs of regret appear on his face. “‘Make’ you, huh? Should I call the vet and tell her what you’re up to? I’m sure she has advice for patients who break the rules. Like, maybe if you mess with your cone too much and stunt your healing progress, you’ll just have to wear it even longer to make up for it?” You start to turn, ready to stalk toward the house phone.
“No, wait!” Lurching forward, he tries to bend down to snuggle you in apology—a favorite habit of his. But you sidestep him quickly, clicking your tongue in admonishment.
As he loses his balance, he gives you a look of ultimate betrayal.
“Don’t pout at me. I'm doing this for you, okay? You heard the doctor. Where your face is concerned, skin-to-skin contact is off limits for now.”
As if he didn't hear you, he ducks toward you again, desperate to marry his cone to your shoulder. This time, you give his arm a healthy pinch, and he yelps in shock.
“No, Koko. It's for your own good.”
Frustration grows on his face, beginning to claw at your heart, too. He’s never had to limit contact with you like this. Even when you first met, he was stuck to you like a magnet.
Sighing, you try to bring him some comfort. “Here. Get on your knees.”
He follows the order without further prompting, sinking to his knees on the kitchen floor. Even like this, he’s still half your height.
“Come here.” Reaching through the cone’s opening, you pet the top of his head, running your fingers through his soft strands with care. When he leans into your touch, you trace his ears with light strokes and smile when he shudders. Gradually, the deep frown on his face shrinks to a mild line of displeasure.
He wraps his strong arms around your thighs in a stubborn thank-you, and you can't help but coo down at him. “You’re my big, strong wolf, aren’t you? It’ll be over before you know it. You can handle this, no problem.”
Day 3
Valko could not handle it, and there were many problems.
In fact, while he was bored out of his mind the night of Day 2, he pried open his laptop and drafted a list of complaints.
Eating has become an unpleasant experience. While he’s permitted to remove the cone at mealtimes, he must eat in a separate room so your scent doesn’t lure his unprotected self over. Worse, you will not enter the room until he’s refastened the cone around his neck. The humiliation of having to cone himself solely to win your presence is quickly becoming too much to bear.
You won’t let him go on errands with you, lest he get into something he shouldn't and aggravate his wounds. This makes him incredibly restless—especially when you come home smelling like other people and things, and there’s nothing he can do about it. This causes significant anxiety and emotional distress.
He usually sleeps with his tail curled around you and his face shoved deep into your skin. This earns him a constant stream of your scent. However, a wall of pillows now separates your sides of the bed. Even worse, he is not permitted to remove the cone for the night. This causes discomfort and loss of familiarity, which undermines the restorative purpose of sleep. He will be sending you any medical bills that arise due to his sleep deprivation.
Last, but perhaps most important: the cone obstructs his view of you, which he depends on for energy throughout the day. (You’re quick to deem this one questionable, because the cone is fully see through???)
A document of his grievances was taped to your blanket, just over your heart, this morning.
Clearly, he had a lot on his mind.
Now, you lie on the sofa watching TV, trying to cuddle with him as best you can. Your fingers are intertwined, and he’s sprawled awkwardly across your lap, face up and eyes begging. You try to ignore the incessant nonverbal pleading, rubbing circles into his skin with your thumb.
Sometimes, he turns his head into your belly—or maybe a little lower—and inhales as deeply as he can through the plastic. When you gasp and swat at him, suddenly scandalized, he only huffs and grumbles, bringing you closer. “Just let me have this.”
As the sun dips in the sky, he almost relaxes. He grows captivated by the nature show you’re watching, ears going into overdrive from all the birdsongs and animal calls. It’s the calmest he’s been in the last three days, you think—until the “woodland creatures” portion of the show begins.
His mortal enemy lies in wait within.
“It’s not as big as the one that did this to me,” he growls at the porcupine stumbling around on the screen. “He was a monster.”
“I’m sure he was,” you answer automatically. You’re used to this by now. “How else could he have taken you down?”
Valko grunts in agreement, then pauses the TV. “Can we do something else now?”
“Okay.” You squint at him warily. “Something like what?”
Slowly, as if you won’t be able to see him, he trails his hand down your side, gently squeezing at your hip.
“No,” you sigh, firmly returning his hand to him.
Tuning out his protests, you unpause the show. At that moment, a closeup of the porcupine’s snout fills the screen.
“Can you at least change the channel, then?” he mumbles.
Day 5
Since you’ve known him, Valko has never been one to give up. Driven and scrupulous, he approaches life with an outlook that’s both endearing and exhausting: if not now, maybe later.
It’s no surprise, then, when his attempts to hold and claim you like normal escalate to new heights.
One time, you catch him in the midst of the most primal desperation.
It’s not even noon yet, but here he is: laid out nude in the middle of your bed, head propped on his set of pillows while he clutches one of yours to his cone. With his instincts compromised and your scent already flooding his nose, he can’t yet tell that you’ve entered the room. And boy. If you thought he was shameless in public, Valko in private is a whole different animal.
His hand is all but glued to the heavy bulk between his legs, pumping and twisting like he’ll die if he doesn’t.
His thumb circles his tip as he works his rhythm, abs flexing with each ragged breath. Every soft, broken moan of your name is an axe to your resolve.
Before you do something you’ll regret, you try to back out of the bedroom and leave. But as soon as one foot is out the door, your shoulder hits the wall with a quiet thump.
You freeze instantly, your heart dropping to your feet.
There’s no point in hoping he didn’t hear. To Valko, no sound is ever quiet.
He jerks his head toward you immediately, steady pumps getting wilder the moment your eyes meet. “Fuck,” he pants, writhing desperately on the sheets. His massive thighs tremble with every movement, sending tiny shocks of heat to your core. “Fuck.”
“Valk—”
“Please help me. Please, it hurts so bad. I need you so bad, please, it’s been days.”
You bite your lip so hard, you think you’ll draw blood. “You know I can’t.”
“I don’t care what the vet said,” he growls, fist finally coming to a stop. “I care about you.”
Clinging to resolve, you cross your arms and stay put. At that, he closes his eyes and breathes slow and deep through his nose.
“Just— Help me finish, please. You don’t have to touch anywhere near my face. That’s the rule, right?”
As that pleading stare pins you to the spot once more, you bite your lip in consideration. He’s flushed all over, and a thin sheen of sweat coats his whole body. He really does need your help, but can you risk it?
When his mask slips, letting the hungry glint in his eyes shine through, you know you can’t.
“I won’t touch you, Valko. But you can use this.” Swiftly, you tug your shirt over your head and toss it onto the bed. He catches it with ease, and behind the cone, his face contorts in bewilderment.
“Use it?”
“To finish,” you explain, folding your arms across your bra. “It’s the safest way I can help you right now.”
Gazing at you like you’re a deity reborn, he presses the fabric to his cone’s exterior, right outside his nose. As he inhales, a deep, guttural groan escapes him. “Thank you,” he pants. His hand returns to his reddened length, and he redoubles his earlier efforts.
Leaking arousal glistens on his skin, and you can hear how much easier it makes things for him. Covered in his own desire, he slides his hand up and down with no friction, creating lewd, wet sounds that echo through the room.
“Thank you, thank you— Fuck, thank you. I’ve done this like ten times already, and it’s taken me longer every go,” he admits shamelessly. “This is so much better. Not as good as you, but so much better. Thank you.”
He bucks his hips into his giant fist, and for a moment, you fear your shared bed might collapse under his ferocity. Once he starts licking the cone’s wall, as if he’ll be able to taste your shirt through the plastic, you almost want to avert your eyes and leave the two of them alone together.
You don’t have long to ponder it. Soon after, Valko comes quickly with a deep groan of your name, coating his skin in spills of white. As he convulses in pleasure, you approach his bedside to stroke his hair through the cone’s opening—just like you have for the last several days. Valko whines at your touch.
“Shh, baby. It’s okay,” you whisper. “Just two more days, yeah?”
His response is halfway between a growl and a grunt. Chuckling, you bend to kiss his damp, darkened hair. “Just two more days.”
Day 7
At 12 a.m., you wake to an empty bed. “Koko?”
There’s no response to your call. Groaning, you throw off the covers and stretch your tired limbs. Where did he run off to? It’s barely been two hours since you went to bed.
Hugging yourself to keep warm, you pad into the dark hallway. The home gym is clear, and he’s not in the kitchen sneaking chocolate. Where could he be?
It doesn’t take long to find out.
In the living room, Valko stands at the back door, gazing at the moon through the window.
He’s clad only in loose grey sweats. More notably, he’s missing his cone.
The only indication that he knows you’re there is a near imperceptible twitch of his ears. “It’s day seven, did you know that?” he rumbles.
Suddenly nervous, you shift on your feet. “I did.”
“So you also know what I’ve been missing the last seven days.” He turns to face you, eyes stormy and narrowed. “What I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. What I begged you to give me, but you refused. Acted like you were doing me a favor,” he spits out, lips curling into a snarl.
In the moonlight filtering through the window, his amber eyes are a new level of otherworldly. Pale, greyish-white slivers flicker across his chest, making his taut abs seem to ripple in front of you.
After seven days, he looks very, very grumpy.
You get the sense that you’re in trouble.
“Koko,” you start, stepping forward to placate him, “you know that’s not—”
“Don’t ‘Koko’ me,” he snaps. “That’s reserved for people I’m close with.”
Is he serious? “You know I’m closer to you than anyone.”
“Right now? After this week? I’m not so sure. But you will be.” His tail swishes behind him as he takes a menacing step toward you. “Come here,” he growls out.
“We can talk about this, but I’m not going to—”
“Three.”
“Okay, are you seriously threatening me with a countdown?”
“Two.”
“That’s my thing! You know, when you won’t let me get out of bed, or when you bite too hard, or—”
He doesn’t let you get to “one.”
When he bursts forward at superhuman speed, he doesn’t even give you the chance to run.
You’re in his arms in an instant, thrashing wildly as he tries to pull you both to the floor. “You’re heavy as fuck!” you bark at him. “Let me go!”
“No.” He overpowers you easily, lowering you to the carpet and quickly pinning you there. He only takes a moment to revel in your submission—your high squeaks and whimpers and feeble attempts to swat him off. Evidently, he has bigger plans for you.
While you wriggle beneath him, he deftly kicks off his sweats and quickly deals with your clothes. You’re wearing only a nightshirt—his, you notice all too late—and completely vulnerable to his impatience.
He rips a line straight down the middle, clumsily shrugging the worn fabric off you. While you’re too busy gawking to register his actions, he slides down your body, coming to a halt at your traitorously wet heat.
“Usually, at least a little bit of my scent lingers here,” he says, inhaling you deeply. “You’ve lost it after not taking me for so long. But we’ll fix it, won’t we?”
When you don’t respond, his eyes flash up at you. “Won’t we?”
“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, signing away your fate.
“Yeah, we will.” Surging forward, he places an open-mouthed kiss to your entrance, swirling his tongue into you without warning. His ensuing groan could start a national scandal.
“I’m gonna let you go, all right?” He nips your inner thigh. “Don’t try to run from me. I’ll catch you.”
He watches closely as he eases off of you, but there’s no need—you obey.
“Good girl,” he mocks, and you break his gaze with a huff.
Chuckling, he sweeps his hair back and lies down on the carpet, grabbing your arm and dragging you to him. “Sit on me.”
“…What?”
“My face. Sit on it.”
“…What?”
“Oh, I get it. Is this a ‘make me’ kind of thing? Well, if you insis—”
“No!” You hold your hands out in defense, grimacing when he grins at you. “You know we’ve never…done that before.”
He shrugs. “First time for everything. Hop on.”
You stay put, shaking your head with vigor no matter how hard your center pulses. “What if you can’t breathe?”
“Don’t need to.”
“I think you do, but okay.” Playing with your fingers, you search for another excuse. “What if I’m too heavy?”
Valko’s smile slips, and his top lip curls as he looks at you flatly. “Now you’re just insulting me.”
In retrospect, you should’ve known that one wouldn’t get you very far.
“Fine,” you concede shakily. Crawling toward him, you put your hands on either side of his massive body and sit down on him in a straddle. Gingerly, you scoot up, and up, and up, until your hips are right below his chin. His smirk widens all the way.
“Last chance to back out,” you offer helplessly. How would grilled porcupine taste?
“In your dreams.” In an instant, his arm shoots out behind you and guides you forward. You cry out the second your sensitive flesh meets his skin, nearly cursing from the foreign sensation.
For a moment, all he does is breathe you in. Lewd, deep inhales, trying to siphon the scent from your depths. “Missed this,” he murmurs, words slightly muffled. “Missed you. Fuck, you’re so good. You smell so good.”
You’re afraid to look down, but you don’t have to. You can hear his smile.
Instead, you look behind you, seeing that his thick, veiny length is flushed and leaking already. Your gulp echoes in your ears.
A soft press of his lips to your throbbing clit pulls you back to your senses. With another kiss, he positions the bud over his nose and your entrance over his mouth, so he’s sure to catch all your desire.
When he squeezes your hip, you know he’s asking for more. Gently, timidly, you rock against his face to appease him. Valko, though, ever observant when you’re involved, knows you’re withholding your full weight.
And he won’t have it.
Simultaneously, he delivers a sharp slap to your backside and nips your clit in warning. When you squeal out into the cool air, he soothes the sting with a searing lash of his tongue.
“I’m trying!” you cry. “Whenever we do this, I’m always the one on my back! I feel weird.”
Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up just enough to speak. “Tough.”
Then, he plops you right back down, the smack of skin on skin spreading a wildfire across your cheeks.
Eager to explore, he glides his tongue around your core, poking and prodding wherever he likes. When you arch away from the pleasure, too sensitive to stay still, he decides he’s had enough.
His tight grip on your hips is his first act of defiance. But when he starts bouncing you on his face, alternating between his mouth and nose, you’re more than ready to throw in the towel.
“Valko!” you whine. Up and down, down and up. Up and down again and again. How long has he wanted this?
A response would require a pause in his actions, so of course, he doesn’t provide one. Instead, he flattens his tongue against your clit and makes you grind your hips down onto him, like he’s nothing but an extension of you. “Valko!” you repeat, stars quickly clouding your vision.
All he offers is an unburdened grunt, clearly not planning on stopping anytime soon. And why would he, when there’s so much to lap up?
A mix of his saliva and your arousal pools between you, with sound effects previously unheard of filling the room. You’re so wet, at one point, you almost slide down his face to his forehead—but he hauls you back up with a laugh, the vibrations only exacerbating the issue. When you pull at his hair, shy and embarrassed, he merely sucks your clit into his mouth and releases it with a pop.
Captive to his relentless touch, it isn’t long before your muscles contract and release, sending more and more wetness gushing toward his waiting mouth.
Your mind is a haze as he licks you clean, making sure not to waste a single drop. You do register, though, how he inhales once again when he’s finished. “Smells like me again. That’s better.”
Thinking his wrath has exhausted itself, you feel your body deflate like a popped balloon. You’re more than ready to melt into the sheets and sleep off the worst of the aftermath.
“We should seal the deal, though. Just to be sure.”
Valko has other plans.
Before you can blink, he flips you over with force, driving your hands and knees into the carpet. When you yelp, he squeezes your backside in apology, only to slip his fingers down to your open slit. Once he confirms that you’re ready for him, he braces his hands on your hips and slides into you with ease.
Your startled gasp is his grand opportunity. As you cry out his name, he shoves his fingers into your open mouth, making you sputter and swallow around them. With his other hand, he clamps your jaw shut so you’re forced to bite him, your blunt teeth barely a threat against his skin.
All the while, he’s moaning and laughing, hips stuttering from his rapid thrusts. Each time his base slaps your backside, you feel him grow larger and larger, until you’re being speared on something you’re not sure you can take. But as your muscles contract around him once more, squeezing him with all that they have, you don’t think that matters anymore.
In tune with your own release, hot spurts shoot deep into your channel, followed by a searing, swollen pressure you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to. It’s at this point that the last of your strength crumbles. But when you start to slump into the floor, you find you can’t move too far—not without bringing Valko with you.
As you both catch your breath, locked together until the comedown, he slides his hand out of your mouth and slaps your cheek lightly, signaling for you to open your screwed-shut eyes. When you do, he sticks his drool-coated fingers into his own mouth, canines poking into his flesh as he swipes his tongue greedily.
All you can do is whine.
You don’t know when your bodies will loosen up enough for you to separate. All you know is that he’s got you here, right where he wants you, for a long, long, agonizingly long time.
──────
“Are you satisfied?” you deadpan as the beast finally tucks you into bed.
“For now.” You can hear his smirk as he flicks off the lights. Doesn’t make much of a difference, though.
It’s dawn.
“But you can check back with me in an hour. Maybe my answer will be different.”
“In an hour, I will be dead to the world and recovering from you,” you grumble. Suddenly, you purse your lips. “I’m gonna miss that cone, you know.”
Even in the dim morning light, you can see his brows furrow. “What?”
“You looked cute in it. Like a little puppy.” Reaching out, you grab his face and squish his cheeks between your fingers. “So cute.”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but his tail thumps the mattress. “Whatever. It did have its benefits, though. Tonight was so good, I wouldn’t mind a repeat.”
“You really think you can do that again? Seven whole days, no contact?”
“‘Course I do. It wasn’t that hard for me.”
Your eyes narrow into slits. “Not even you believe that.”
“Yeah. This was fun, though,” he says through a yawn. “We should do it again sometime. Goodnight.”
As he rolls over and tucks his tail around you, blanketing you in half his body weight, a nagging thought won’t leave your head.
Should you switch vets?
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On a good day, Sylus was cocky, smug, and rather arrogant, a facade that only sort of faded once your relationship began. So, you'd only assumed he would be the same in the bedroom. He'd be teasing you and mumbling cheeky comments the whole time for sure.
Right?
"It's alright, shhh I know, I know." A warm hand cups your cheek, gently brushing away a stray tear. He's only an inch or two in, but the stretch has your eyes stinging more than you'd been able to hold back.
"S-Sylus..." You whine, nails digging into his biceps. The sheets are cool against your back, though the sensation does little to distract you as Sylus slides in a little more.
"Such a good girl for me. You can take it, I know you can. So perfect." He's being so sweet, his eyes soft as he places gentle kisses on your heated skin.
"I don't-I don't think I can..." You sniffle, though your legs wrap tighter around him.
"Just a little more. Take a deep breath for me?" When you do, exhaling slowly, you feel him bottom out. You suck in a breath immediately, though your eyes roll back in ecstasy in the same moment.
"See? Does it feel good?" He presses soft kisses along the column of your throat, humming when you shiver against him.
"Y-yeah. Can-can you move now?" Your eagerness makes him smile, pressing his lips to yours like he can't get enough of it.
"Patience, sweetie. You should take a minute to adjust."
"I-I'm already adjusted! Come on, just fuck me?" He grins, hands interlocking with yours on the bed.
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.”
