⏾⋆.˚─── what i'm into: jjk, aot, one piece, fairy tail, gangsta, naruto, bleach, love and deepspace, twilight, hellsing, vampire hunter d, fate/zero & other franchises, elden ring, black myth wukong, hakuouki, phoenix wright ace attorney, cod mw (2019), venom (2018), wind breaker
⏾⋆.˚─── who i like: choso, sukuna, nanami, higuruma, eren, reiner, jean, law, zoro, marco, kakashi, obito, shikamaru, rafayel, caleb, archer, rider, kiritsugu, sun wukong, venom, jo
⏾⋆.˚─── artists that i love: sleep token, exo, tatsuya kitani, king gnu, bad omens, nct, breaking benjamin, the weeknd, got7
⏾⋆.˚─── ask box is always open, whether you want to scream about my fics or the fictional men in them, i’m willing to yap about anything that comes through
⏾⋆.˚─── requests are open for smaus only, but if an idea sent through interests me enough i’ll most likely write about it in some form of way, probably just a messy yap session tbh (check out my rules for further clarification for what i will and won’t write for before you send in anything please and thank you ^^)
⏾⋆.˚─── ageless blogs will be blocked without hesitation
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
sfw, slight nsfw if you squint 6.5k w.c, valko x fem!reader
werewolf lore made up by yours truly because i might as well be the one to flesh it out if infold doesn't want to ;;;; this is incredibly self indulgent ngl and i just needed to elaborate on my previous valko work ! (as usual they got stupidly long again ;;;) something to supplement my interpretation having taken notes and rewatched that damn trailer too many times to count enjoy my ramblings because i know i will ! <3
(p.s. also what are we thinking in terms of zodiac sign???? my personal hc is leo because i think it just fits but im also partial to saggitaruis idkkkkk)
you notice it long before valko even realizes, you think.
you visit the pack estate often now, and that means you’re a little more familiar with the minutiae and how to navigate such lively and wild folk. because you can at least hold a conversation on your own instead of floundering awkwardly in the face of his niece or a cousin or an uncle or great-grandaunt. you notice he grows a lot more comfortable leaving you alone with them now too, straying away to help his mother and aunties in the kitchen, out behind back with his cousins and uncles with the farm animals, or watching over a wailing baby or the various little ones constantly running around the place.
(and yes, it is an estate, bigger than any home you’ve ever seen before let alone lived at. large sprawling evergreen forests, thick enough that you can hardly see through them surrounds the grounds. it hides the enormous manor from view until you end up walking right through its front gates, the dark iron tall and looming way above your head. there are more rooms than you can even count, filled to the brim with a cacophony of voices, sounds and smells of the entire ao pack)
and as his comfort grows, so does your observation of him in his natural element. one of them, at least. he looks at home bundled up in that sharp, dark suit of his—confidence bordering on arrogance as he sits in on business meetings as chairman ao. or when he’s holed up in his private lab, glasses perched high on the strong bridge of his nose, lab clothes in loose disarray as he makes the final checks to the coding behind eoncore's games. (it’s cute how he tries to keep composure in those roles; how he strives to be professional despite everything you’ve seen and know about him. that distance in itself is a sort of game though, a game of chicken to see who can go the farthest without cracking)
with you, even, on the many nights and days you spend together—he wears his love for you proud and clear on his face, in the swivel of his ears and the not-so subtle language of his tail, in the way he handles you so carefully despite the massive difference in his strength. the easy affection he gives without a second thought, big hands wrapped around an ankle or your wrist; nose buried within the curls of your hair or the ticklish skin of your neck. he’s shameless about it all, the clingy, hungry need to be in your space in any way he can have.
and he especially looks at home here, deep in the bowels of ao manor. the look on his face is always the same, even when he’s wrestling with his older sisters or trading playful barbs with his older cousins and nephews. no matter how annoyed he is with his pack, there’s always this wide grin on his face, as if he can’t help but to express the joy he feels being so loved and loving so deeply in return. surrounded by all of his favorite people in the entire world, he feels safe enough to do so.
while shy isn’t a word you’d normally associate with the man, there is a level of guardedness he feels towards the very heart of him. valko is flippant in certain details sure, you would even argue a little too flippant, that arrogance of his shining through enough to make you squish his nose in between your fingers when you’re particularly irritated. how brazen he can be at times, much to your embarrassment.
(you do in fact remember the very first time he kissed you—how he asked to kiss you straight to your face, making an ungodly amount of eye contact as he wrapped you tight with his arms. despite the clinginess and the inherent rush of embarrassment from being confronted so boldly, you hadn’t hesitated when you leaned up yourself to plant your lips on his)
so how can you not watch? how can you not soak up an entirely new face, one that you get the privilege of seeing up close and personal? there’s something magnetic about him, something within that can’t help but resonate on a level that drives you closer and closer and closer.
oh you try to keep conversation going between whatever member of his pack has decided to keep you company, but your eyes can’t help but be drawn to the direction you last saw him head in. if you’re lucky, you can keep a direct visual as you speak, but even then it’s difficult not to just stop and stare. because there’s this ache that builds within your chest at the sight of his crooked smile and fangs, the bright glow of his eyes softened by warmth of firelight and the weight of affection. it balloons past the cavern of your ribs and up to form a heavy lump in your throat. it makes you want to spew saccharine sweet things unfit for the usual style of teasing and playful bullying you push towards him—squabbling and laughing like children compared to the grown folks that you are.
and it’s because of that particular reckless brand of honesty that you catch it. he's not doing it on purpose of course, his eyes flicking to and fro, bouncing from pack member to pack member seemingly at random. the lingering glances are just impulses of his, thoughts circling in his mind so much that he couldn’t help but physically express them. naturally, you follow his gaze to land on…collars?
no, not all of them are collars. some are necklaces, varied from silver to gold, thick and thin, jeweled and not. others are chokers, some plain while some are a bit more intricate, lace or leather that molds to the base of their throat in a way that looks secure yet comfortable. there are those with bare necks, though most tend to be children or teenagers, a few adults or older folk sprinkled in. however, a majority of his pack all has some form of collar on, and though you can read in between the lines as to what they may represent, you know that valko will tell you about them when he’s ready.
so you continue your observations, noting all of the times his gaze falls to the neck of a pack member, contemplative and almost wistful. the small distractions never last for long, his attention always drawn back to his original task, but it happens often enough to make you ansty. because he doesn’t bring it up, long after that night ended. not once does he open his mouth as ask. there are times where he looks as if he’ll risk it, eyes bright and focused as he calls for your attention, but as soon as you give it he deflates a little and deflects with a smile.
he’s always been careful with you, ready to reel back probing questions disguised as quips if you weren’t ready to answer, or if he wasn’t sure how you’d react. but in this he’s…quieter; not so much unsure as he is cautious. eager for more but willing to take this at your pace rather than his. which is a cute idea, amusing in its innocence and ridiculousness. you’d pretty much do anything he wanted if he only asked, but maybe your brand of teasing and (loving) bullying might’ve given off the wrong impression, one that you have no problem fixing. the only option you have is to give him what he wants.
so you head straight to the source, sort of. the library was your real first stop but you hadn’t found a tome you could actually read fully without valko translating, so that was an immediate bust. option two was the best and only choice you had left.
his mother is a stout woman with the same hair color and eye shape as valko, and the family resemblance is uncanny when put next to each other. she’s only a little taller than you with plenty of crow’s feet and laugh lines making the glow about her even more intense, as if she’s spent her entire life happy and full. there’s a strength within the way she greets you in the circle of her arms, warm and just shy of cracking your spine in half the first day you officially meet. she’s lovely despite the way her eyes pick you apart, warm and friendly and open—watchful in a way she doesn’t bother hiding. protective of her youngest and only son as she hides her fangs with that small, inscrutable smile. deliberate in her welcome and obvious in her warning.
(the less said about the rest of his pack the better. you’ve never been interrogated so thoroughly in your entire life by an entire group of people before, and the poking didn’t stop until at least month three of your official relationship. it was worth it, though, to witness the very adorable mix of embarrassment, annoyance and touching affection splay across valko’s face everytime an uncle or auntie pulled you aside to poke and prod at your intentions with their ‘little wolf’. you’d call it sheepish if he didn’t look so proud every time you walked away with a smile or laugh, smug as he kept his hands tucked into the pocket of your hoodie, following you around with a lazily wagging tail)
you have to wait until you visit the manor again because you want this to be a surprise and valko, if you both aren’t working, is clinging to you twenty four seven. which isn’t a very long one, since he whisked you away at least once a week to visit his family. this time around he lingers by your side for a longer than usual, pressed tightly to your back as he holds you in his lap, arms wrapped around your stomach and nose pressed to your jaw. no one bats an eyelash at his clingy hold and you even manage to keep your flush down the entire time—a major win for you because his affection always makes you melt, more so when he’s so goddamn obvious about it?
you two stay that way for some time, just by yourselves on a wide plush armchair until your ears pick up the familiar pitter-patter of stomping feet. there’s a rush of them headed your way, and your mouth curves into a smile before you can help it. another inevitably whenever you visit with valko; the dozens of little minions that follow him around. it’s begins with his youngest niece who pleads with her twin sisters to play outside. soon the triplets turn into four, then five, six, seven…until an entire basketball team’s worth of half-shifted wolf and human cubs yapping and howling for chase with their ‘uncle ko’.
he resists, because of course he’d rather stay with you, but when the children begin to climb onto you and him, he finally relents with an exaggerated growl—on that makes them erupt into giggles. you shoo him off with a laugh as he moodily shifts you off his lap, your smile growing wider when he leaves you with a quick nuzzle and kiss before herding the little ones off with a playful growl—scattering them in all directions with happy yips and shrieks. you watch him until they disappear behind a corner until all you see is the tip of his curling tail, echoes of their joy melding into the general murmur echoing along the warm and cozy halls of ao manor. you allow yourself a moment to breathe before you make your way towards where mama ao—a name she insists you call her by because now you’re pack, and if the alpha wants to be addressed a certain way then you very well listen to what she says—normally is; the kitchen.
she’s the main cook of the family, along with some of the other aunties and uncles. though you two aren’t visiting for any particular holiday, there’s always something cooking up in the kitchen no matter the time of day. you follow the vague hints of something herbal and deep and meaty deeper into the heart of the manor, greeting and throwing out passing comments to all you come across. the further you go the more that delicious scent grows stronger until it leads you near the kitchen. another breath and you peer around the lip of the open frame to look inside.
mama ao stands at the stove, a warm light glowing from the closed oven behind her legs as she stirs a large pot of…something. bread in different forms—rolls, braids, knots and even a whole loaf— rests on the counter, besides it is spread some kind of dumpling dough and various fillings in different bowls. you think you even spot a few different desserts near the pile but before you can look further, a slight cough grabs your attention. she takes one look at your face once you sheepishly meet her stare and with a snort, jerks her head towards the back of the manor.
with a faint whistle, another woman seemingly out of thin air appears to take over her place at the stove. you recognize her as valko’s youngest sister, nana. it’s a nickname you’ve yet to find the origin too, not when she gets so red and growly whenever someone even hints at detailing not only to you but others who’ve joined the pack from the outside. (a sight you saw for yourself when valko playfully tried, laughing loudly when she bodily tackled him from behind, both falling to the floor in a flurry of ears, tails and claws)
‘watch this until i get back, nana?’
she hummed, curiously looking between you both but giving you a friendly enough smile despite the sharpness of her eyes and the pointed ends of her fangs, dutifully donning the apron mama ao passed her way. another thing about the manor—every wolf was in some form of shift whether it be full or partial. a sight that was becoming more and more normal for you as months flew by. just as normal as the roughened edges of the rest of the ao pack, every smile and playful shove and jab blunted just enough to feel the imprint of their teeth but not enough to actually bite through.
the door is already partially open, cracked just enough to let the afternoon air in to cool down the warm kitchen. with one last nod to nana, you trail behind mama ao as she exits the back. she says nothing as the dirt path from the kitchen melds into freshly mowed grass, expecting you to follow as she veers sharply to the left after a few paces. you nearly twist your ankle pivoting to follow, but once you get your bearings you easily match her pace. it’s quiet between the two of you, but it helps you organize your thoughts. helps you try and figure out just how you’re going to ask without coming across as rude or awkward. your eyes map the trail you both take absently, bouncing from tree to tree as she leads you deeper into the forest surrounding the manor, and you’d be worried if you didn’t know this was the only way to have a private conversation in a home full of wolves.
‘you’re curious about something, right?’
you jolt at the sound of her voice, low but gentle, almost sweet if not for the subtle shake of a subvocal rumble in her tone. nothing alarming, not when most wolves seem to speak in such a cadence, most older ones at least. (valko only sounds like that when he’s particularly overwhelmed by his emotions, and it’s a sound you strive to hear any chance you can get, if you’re being honest; it’s half the reason why you tease him so much, the urge to mess him up familiar and one you’re unable to ignore. he’s cute when he’s flustered, so embarrassed that he can’t help but release these pitiful little whimpers that make his puppydog eyes that more effective; when he’s annoyed, angry enough to growl at you but needy enough to butt against your head and face despite the pout furrowing his brow; when he’s happy, overwhelmed and brimming with so much joy that his rumbles are deep and warm, nose tucked against the side of your neck while he smothers you underneath the bulk of his frame)
you shake your head a bit to clear your thoughts, eyes flicking from the sun-shadowed trees to mama ao; who’s looking forward with a deceptively serene smile. her hands are crossed in front of her, nails long and dark, a stark contrast against the bright cream of her skirts as she continues her unhurried walk. you don’t bother asking how she knows, but it does take you an uncomfortable amount of time before you answer, nerves making your throat close as you scramble to think.
‘...the collars…what exactly do they mean to wolves?’
she hardly flinches at your question, that smile of hers immovable as her eyes meet yours. you’re surprised to find how…warm they are, oh so sharp in the way wolves perceive but soft despite that. it reminds you, fleetingly, of the way valko looks at you. how now, weeks after you first realized, that look is often paired with his eyes straying to his pack’s collars, or his fingers playing with the neck of his shirt. as if he’s wary to cross that hidden boundary between his thoughts and words.
‘i’m surprised you came to me about this instead of my little wolf. would he not be better to talk to, especially since you’re partners?’
you flush, oddly embarrassed underneath her knowing gaze. you feel like you’ve just been scolded by your own mother for some reason.
‘it’s a…gift. a surprise one. i noticed how many of you wear them, and..and he’s been looking at them a lot recently. the books in your library, well they don’t go into much detail about the why, and…and i guess…i just want to make him happy.’ your tongue feels clumsy and too big for your mouth as you speak, and you’re certain it reflects on your face. but when you chance a look at her, she’s still smiling. sharp edges and all, and its only now that you realize you both are stopped in front of a clearing.
it’s a flat circle of an area, with the sun directly shining down in the middle and a field of wildflowers stretching as far as you can see. the area is strange, as you can’t even tell where the clearing ends and the trees begin as you look further out, but what captures your attention is the sparkling blue pond sitting in the middle. various plants float aimlessly on top, ripples of fish below the surface disturbing the clear reflection of the afternoon sky. you move to take a step forward, but pause when mama ao rumbles.
it doesn’t scare you but you recognize a warning when you hear one.
a beat passes, only the sound of the forest and whistling wind breaking the tense quiet.
‘but is this…gift something that will make you happy?’
your brows furrow and you turn your head to regard her. the smile is less pronounced and you understand that she’s being deadly serious. if she’s referring to the collar then the obvious answer would be yes. anything that makes valko happy makes you happy, and if he wants one of these collars then you’re gonna damn well get it.
‘of course–’
‘wolves mate for life. this is not something that you get to walk away from when you simply don’t feel like it anymore, not when he’s already yours by human standards. if you bond the wolf way there will be no turning back, not if you wish to leave him intact after. so i will ask you again and i do expect a truthful answer. will this make you happy?’
will he make you happy?
will he continue to be enough for you to stay? or will you leave as soon as you get bored? can you handle what it means to be pack? what it means to be human in the face of his inhumanness?
can you handle having the undivided devotion of a wolf? of my little wolf?
the unspoken and pointed questions make your instinctive offense die down, because that’s what this all comes down to, isn’t it? the idea of wolves being too much for others. the vulnerability that opening up not only themselves but their culture and pack exposes them to. why valko had been so unbearably radiant the first time he ever saw you interact with his family, perfectly at ease and happy amongst a spattering of humans and surrounded on all sides by wolves.
(uneventful as that day had relatively been, you still remember just how tightly he held you that night; how frantic he seemed, so unwilling to part from you for a second that he kept you in bed for hours. over and over and over again, you barely had any time to rest in between before he was ready to go yet again. that night was the first time he ever bit you—marked you in a way another wolf marks their mate. it surprised you, the sharp shock of pain as his teeth sunk into the space between your neck and shoulder, but not a bad one. how could it be when you liked that bit of pain…liked how this was a physical and more permanent tie to him since your very blunt and human teeth couldn’t do the same)
you realize, then, that everyone else was being nice; that was the restrained version of their brand of shovel talk, because underneath the inhuman shine of her eyes—lighter than valko’s, akin to a pale beam of sunlight rather than the bright and clear gold you’re used too—is a full fledged wolf. you swallow, the weight of her eyes and words landing heavy on your shoulders. you take another moment to think, to catch your breath and put together a string of words that makes sense, that sums up the entirety of your actions.
‘you’re right when you say he’s already mine,’ you’d be a moron if you couldn’t see it in the very way he handles you—this push and pull that no one in your entire life has managed to balance, not even your parents fully understood how to ride the waves of your moods. but valko changed that for you, showed you that finding someone in this wide world of yours was not only possible, but your actual reality.
‘i can see that. i mean, he brought me here to meet you, right? that should be more than enough for me.’ you hold her eyes for only a moment before you have to look away. this…this need of yours to be closer to him is a lot to articulate. it’s one thing to acknowledge it to yourself, but to say it to another person is…different.
‘but…i’m greedy. i’m a possessive and selfish person, mama ao. i won’t accept anything less, not only for him but for myself.’ you breathe in deeply, steeling yourself to meet her gaze once again. she hasn’t moved an inch, that same watchful, intent expression on her face.
‘i could be satisfied with just this. i don’t need to be tied to him like this, i fully understand that. i don’t need to be tied to anyone period, but…but i want to. i want to keep seeing new sides to him, i want to be able to understand him the way he does me, i want him more than i’ve wanted anything before in my entire life. and i can see that he wants it too, he’s just waiting on me to catch up that’s all.’ you give her a shaky smile, one that leaves you a little breathless from the fear and anxiety of admitting all of this.
‘so, yes, this is more than a gift. more than simple repayment, i want to be fully committed to him in both the human way…and the wolf way. because he’s just as much as a man as he is a wolf. and no matter what you say or threaten me with, nothing about that is going to change.’ you even tilt your chin up a little, half in defiance but half in surrender, exposing the soft skin of your throat. her eyes dart down to the shadow of his bite seen through the wide gape of his hoodie, and you flush when you realize you also inadvertently flashed that at her.
she blinks, the coldness receding bit by bit and you’re amazed by how much a real smile transforms her face. her lips stretch wide enough to reveal the thicker points of her canines, the crow’s feet at her eyes crinkling as she throws her head back and laughs. the bark of sound does admittedly startle you, but you recover quickly enough when she reaches out to throw an arm over your shoulder. she pulls you in close, dipping her nose down to brush gently against your temple. your tense shoulders fall lax and you feel…calm. accepted, if you had to put a name to it. like she’s finally acknowledging you as…pack.
‘just as stubborn as my little boy, ain’tcha.’ she rumbles, fond and deeply affectionate.
(and if there’s the slightest bit of grief in the sound as she pulls you over the threshold of the clearing, if mama ao periodiocally touches the choker around her own throat, fingers lovingly brushing over the soft satin as she details the history of collars and wolves; if valko and the others very obviously only serve one alpha and not two, then that’s not something you’ll ever verbally acknowledge, if only for the sake of not poking old wounds. not at all healed, going by the mournful look mama ao wears during her lessons, but tolerated as the flow of time marches on)
wolves are not turned, but born. so humans have mingled within their culture since the dawn of their species. but because humans aren’t capable of creating mating bites like wolves, another custom was made to try and validate human-wolf mate pairs. collaring is the result of that, as the humans courting wolves offer them a collar as the final stage of courting. different packs have different rituals and courting rules, but the ao family have always been the more laidback of them all. traditionally collars were made of animal leather, hunted by the human wishing to court said wolf and hand crafted, taking months sometimes years depending on the design. however, the ao’s aren’t truly one for strict traditions and all sorts of alternatives began popping up the more access to other materials they had.
she spends hours with you in that clearing, answering your questions and indulging in a few lighthearted courting stories of her sisters and brothers during their youth. the sounds of the forest drone on softly as she speaks, the sun in the sky slowly sinking towards the horizon above you both. clear blue merges into blush pink and bruise purple, sparkling white specks of stars dotting the sky the deeper that purple spreads. it’s not until you hear a familiar howl that you realize just how much time has passed.
both you and mama ao look towards the direction of the manor, where valko continues his howl, the sound mostly curious if not a bit…pouty. you laugh as she snorts to herself, and you both share a helplessly fond look before she throws her head back and answers his call. you uncurl yourself, stretching your legs out with a groan as you lean back on your hands, listening to the hauntingly beautiful melody of their howls echo out into the evening air, joined by a few more for another long note before peetering off.
it doesn’t take long before valko comes tumbling through the edge of the trees, shifting from his full wolf shape to his mostly human one within one blink and the next. you watch, eyes slightly wide, as he stops directly in front of you both poised in a crouch, the air from his momentum brushing over you with a soft whoosh. he looks between the both of you, grin wide and baring fang, those little dimples forming as it widens the longer he watches you. his ears constantly swivel as the nightlife of the forests kicks up, but his tail stays in that semi-lazy wag behind him.
‘food’s ready and nana’s about to lose it if you don’t get back quick. the little ones are starving and can’t seem to settle down enough to get clean first.’ his eyes land on his mother when he speaks, glowing predator bright as the night sky swallows up the last of the sun’s rays. his entire body is cast in shadow from the dark, but you think you can make out a dark sleeveless compression shirt and matching pants. as usual, he’s got no shoes on so you can see the glint of his claws as he idly digs his toes into the dirt. she rolls her eyes but dutifully gets up with a sigh.
‘you’d think they’d learn to behave after all these years. cubs.’ she hefts herself up with a small crack of her neck and a put upon sigh. you wince and begin to stand up after her when two sets of eyes stop you dead in your tracks. it’s eerie how similar they look in this light, and you nearly giggle when they speak at the same time.
‘where’re you going?’
‘you’re coming with?’
you press your lips together once you spy the way valko looks, and you slowly sit back down.
‘...i guess not.’
‘I’ll save you a plate, so take as much time as you need.’ mama ao promises with a smile, fangs glinting off the glow of the crescent moon as she dusts off her skirts. valko looks delighted for a second before the pout returns—more joking than serious.
‘wait, so does that mean you’ll save a plate for her but not your only son?’
she huffs and walks towards valko, giving his wolfy ears a little tug and shake before dipping down to nuzzle his forehead. he accepts it with a low grumble, tail ‘thumping’ along the ground as she scents him and pinches his cheek.
‘more like i know how sneaky my only son is and he probably had his fair share of ‘taste tests’ before everyone else.’
he barks out a laugh but tellingly doesn’t deny the soft accusation. she play bites at his ear but doesn’t go further when he ducks from underneath her hold with another laugh. she shoots you a look, the smile on her face telling you more than words ever could.
‘come and eat when you’re done here, i’ll make sure your bowl is hot and steaming by the time you do so feel no need to rush. it’s a beautiful night, especially when it’s spent in the company of someone you love.’
you immediately flush a hot red—ignoring her chortles as you bury your face within the sleeves of your hoodie. of course, because your stupid puppy has no care for shame, merely hums an agreement.
‘she won’t be out too late, mama.’
‘so you say…’ she trails off teasingly, and before you can even process what she means by that she’s gone a moment later. you raise your face up once you hear the clear whistle of the wind, only the bend of flowers and grass signifying her return to the manor. the quiet that follows is calm, filled with the chirps of insects and forest critters. you can feel him watching you, and for some reason it makes you a little self conscious.
‘you two spent a while out here.’
you glance back at valko, who’s still sitting at the base of your feet. he’s so warm that you can feel it touch the bare skin of your calves. he’s like a furnace and it’s making you realize how chilly it actually is. with a slight pout you open your arms, wiggling your hands and fingers when he stays put. he merely looks at you, unbothered as you glare at him. you sigh and roll your eyes.
‘we were talking, y’know, an activity people do when they want to get to know each other?’
it’s his turn to roll his eyes, but his ears and tail can’t hide how happy that makes him feel. it softens your annoyance, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth as he sits himself on the grass. Still, oddly far away.
‘So, what were you two talking about? you’ve been out here since noon.’
you shrug.
‘things and stuff, stuff and things. you know how talks go.’ it’s your turn to get into a crouch as you speak, eyes carefully cataloging the way his entire focus locks on you. you fight back the need to smirk. so that’s what he’s trying to do here. now, normally you’d tease him a little more and get a little further from him. he’s almost as needy as you are about touch, but a game you both like to play is seeing who goes the longest without touching in some way.
but after the conversation earlier and the still vulnerable edges to your soft innards, you don’t think you can take the distance right now.
‘riiight…care to elaborate on that? like, at all?’ he huffs, glaring at you a little in your evasion. all you do is give him a grin, saying nothing as you lock eyes. one heartbeat later you’re launching yourself at him, tackling him to the ground with a half-wheeze half-laugh. he goes down easy of course, despite being a certifiable tank he’s always lets you push him around a bit.
the exaggerated grunt he lets out makes you snort, but that soon turns into a yelp when he abruptly wraps you up in his arms and rolls you around. you make a fist and playfully punch his chest, laughing and cursing him out in the same breath as you can feel flowers and grass tangle themselves within the wild mess of your hair.
‘oh my god, valko, stop—!’ you gasp out another laugh when he tucks you close to his chest, rolling until you’re on your back and he’s hovering over you. you pant, blinking the tears from your eyes as he cages you within his arms. his legs tangle with yours, the shine of his eyes trained on your face. quiet settles once again as your beating heart calms, your eyes never breaking contact as the wind blows another chilly gust through the air. you don’t feel it though, can’t when his body heat seeps past your skin to warm you from the inside out.
‘i missed you today.’
your chest aches at the sincerity of his voice, and your hands are reaching up to cradle his face before you even realize it. his eyes fall closed for a moment, that satisfied growl rumbling through the broad span of his chest as he leans into your touch.
‘it hasn’t even been a full day and you’ve missed me this whole time? what a needy puppy you are.’ you breath, smiling with teeth when his eyes snap open and he glares at you. it’s a little too dark for you, hidden beneath the shadow of his bulk as you are, to see his face. but the skin against your fingertips grows hot so you know he’s flustered.
‘i told you to stop calling me that.’
‘and i told you that i will when you actually mean it.’
he growls even deeper, but you hardly flinch; gripping the strong planes of his jaw and shaking him lightly. you ‘tsk’ and the sound abruptly stops, the hotness on his cheeks growing even warmer. you tellingly don’t say a thing about it, though, content to pull him down to your level and place a kiss on the tip of his nose. you were a bit off because of the dark, but it makes him happy regardless because he’s leaning most of his weight on you now. he hunkers down even closer, burying himself within the crook of your neck, arms sliding down to wrap around your waist. he slips his palms underneath the loose edge of the hoodie you’re wearing, settling them wide and flat on the skin of your back. you instinctively arch your back a little, pushing yourself up until he’s entirely supporting your weight on his hands, something he doesn’t seem to mind as he breathes in your scent deeply.
idly you slide your hands around his neck, one playing with the shaved sides of his undercut, the other gently stroking the fluffy tip of his furry ear.
‘...i missed you too, puppy.’ his ears flick, the end of his tail thumping along the ground as he sighs and puts a little more of his weight on you. you hide a smile within the vibrant color of his hair, syncing the pace of your breaths as you stare up at the night sky. the stars twinkle in and out of focus, and it truly makes you realize that this is it for you. you had been sure before, with the memory of his want etched into your skin and the lingering desire to own him in return flooding your mind. but this is something you need, too. the quiet moments, where the two of you can just…be. honest and open, showing off the soft fur of your underbelly with the complete and utter faith of that weakness being cherished. Loved and greedily protected from outsiders.
so as the two of you hold each other close underneath the glow of the stars and the moon, you begin mapping out the exact collar you want to give him. leather, of course. you know that he enjoys the texture of it, though normally his accessories are a stiff kind. durable and easy to maintain, if not a little awkward to wear for too long. it chafes at his skin something fierce, but because he can heal so quickly it never bothers him.
still. you think making it softer would be best. something reminiscent of skin, so that he’ll be comfortable with it on. a deep maroon color, or maybe wine red? something a little darker than his hair, matching the gorgeous color of his wolf’s fur with gold accents, of course. he wears a ton of silver already and while he looks good in pretty much anything, you think gold would accentuate his eyes more as well as make the color of the collar pop.
the night spirals away as the two of you curl close, the wind and stars keeping you company as you put the final touches to your gift together inside your head. it’ll no doubt take a little time to put together, but any wait is worth it once you finally give him what he’s been wanting this whole time—what you both have been wanting.
companion piece to this smau i made if you don't feel like scrolling ;)
if you drop a follow plz have an age in bio 💚💚💚 ageless/blank blogs that follow will be blocked !
synopsis: pranking the lis (because you can >:3) ft. all six boys
a/n: lets just pretend its actually april fools for my sake ;;; (god how i wish it was plz infold bring him baaack) first ever smau for lads ! i can owe the prompt to @mishunterwantszayne and i hope you like my idea for this one (as well as my future installments when i get around to 'em) ignore all mistakes this is the first time im using a website like this; also these kinda got a little long so each li will have a separate part :p requests for smaus are open if anyone wants to send somethin my way ^^
tags/warnings; fluff w/possessive and clingy xavier
(p.s. if you wanna follow plz plz plz have age in bio ! ageless blogs will be blocked)
enjoy <3
Caleb Valko Rafayel Sylus Zayne Xavier
synopsis: pranking the lis (because you can >:3) ft. all six boys
a/n: lets just pretend its actually april fools for my sake ;;; (god how i wish it was plz infold bring him baaack) first ever smau for lads ! i can owe the prompt to @mishunterwantszayne and i hope you like my idea for this one (as well as my future installments when i get around to 'em) ignore all mistakes this is the first time im using a website like this; also these kinda got a little long so each li will have a separate part :p requests for smaus are open if anyone wants to send somethin my way ^^
tags/warnings; brat!tamer zayne, slight nsfw implications at the end
(p.s. if you wanna follow plz plz plz have age in bio ! ageless blogs will be blocked)
enjoy <3
Caleb Valko Rafayel Sylus Zayne Xavier
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
synopsis: pranking the lis (because you can >:3) ft. all six boys
a/n: lets just pretend its actually april fools for my sake ;;; (god how i wish it was plz infold bring him baaack) first ever smau for lads ! i can owe the prompt to @mishunterwantszayne and i hope you like my idea for this one (as well as my future installments when i get around to 'em) ignore all mistakes this is the first time im using a website like this; also these kinda got a little long so each li will have a separate part :p requests for smaus are open if anyone wants to send somethin my way ^^
tags/warnings; sylus being sylus lol, slight nsfw implications at the end
(p.s. if you wanna follow plz plz plz have age in bio ! ageless blogs will be blocked)
enjoy <3
Caleb Valko Rafayel Sylus Zayne Xavier
synopsis: pranking the lis (because you can >:3) ft. all six boys
a/n: lets just pretend its actually april fools for my sake ;;; (god how i wish it was plz infold bring him baaack) first ever smau for lads ! i can owe the prompt to @mishunterwantszayne and i hope you like my idea for this one (as well as my future installments when i get around to 'em) ignore all mistakes this is the first time im using a website like this; also these kinda got a little long so each li will have a separate part :p requests for smaus are open if anyone wants to send somethin my way ^^
tags/warnings; slightly unhinged/dramatic raf with a side of indulgent reader ft. cats, nsfw if you squint
(p.s. if you wanna follow plz plz plz have age in bio ! ageless blogs will be blocked)
enjoy <3
Caleb Valko Rafayel Sylus Zayne Xavier
synopsis: pranking the lis (because you can >:3) ft. all six boys
a/n: lets just pretend its actually april fools for my sake ;;; (god how i wish it was plz infold bring him baaack) first ever smau for lads ! i can owe the prompt to @mishunterwantszayne and i hope you like my idea for this one (as well as my future installments when i get around to 'em) ignore all mistakes this is the first time im using a website like this; also these kinda got a little long so each li will have a separate part :p requests for smaus are open if anyone wants to send somethin my way ^^ (i think there’s a lot to be said about eoncore chairman ao vs just valko but i'll save that for a later fic because this would be stupidly long if i went on a rant about that rn ;;;;)
tags/warning: fluff fluff fluff ! sorry not sorry i needed some comfort after that stupid announcement ! teasing and oocness ofc lol, slight nsfw w/easy to fluster!valko and some werewolf lore that i totally made tf up
(p.s. if you wanna follow plz plz plz have age in bio ! ageless blogs will be blocked)
enjoy <3
companion piece here :)
Caleb Valko Rafayel Sylus Zayne Xavier
synopsis: pranking the lis (because you can >:3) ft. all six boys
a/n: lets just pretend its actually april fools for my sake ;;; (god how i wish it was plz infold bring him baaack) first ever smau for lads ! i can owe the prompt to @mishunterwantszayne and i hope you like my idea for this one (as well as my future installments when i get around to 'em lol) ignore all mistakes this is the first time im using a website like this; also these kinda got a little long so each li will have a separate part :p requests for smaus are open if anyone wants to send somethin my way ^^
tags/warnings; bratty!reader, slight nsfw implications (sfw if you squint lol)
(p.s. if you wanna follow plz plz plz have age in bio ! ageless blogs will be blocked)
enjoy <3
Caleb Valko Rafayel Sylus Zayne Xavier
You discover that in addition to being a great listener, repairman, and caretaker, your older neighbour Caleb is also really good with kids
➻➻ ABOUT | 1500 words. caleb x gn!reader.
➻➻ TAGS | slice of life. flirting. banter. UST. fluff. so much fluff. (and a glimpse at how terrible i am with kids)
NOTE: Uh... dilf neighbour!caleb is still on the brain >.< Thanks to everyone who enabled this, i blame all of you xoxo
"You need to hurry up, my arms are about to fall off."
"Angel, it'll be your head fallin' off the next time you walk under this thing if I don't tighten these screws completely."
"You literally just said you double checked it."
"Well, now I'm triple-checking it. One more minute, I promise."
You huff in exasperation as the needles of strain prickling your skin from shoulders to elbows start to make their way down your arms (or, in this case, up your arms) toward your wrists.
You love how Caleb listens to every oddly specific project idea you come up with for your house. You love it even more when you're able to watch Caleb help you with said projects — his biceps flexing when he's sanding, the smattering of grey at his temples glistening silver when it dampens with sweat, his threadbare shirts raising to reveal the dark, springy hairs that disappear into his low-slung work jeans when he raises his arms.
But sometimes — like now, when your arms are trembling from holding up your nearly-installed front porch lanterns — you wish Caleb wasn't so meticulous and thorough and... well, helpful about it all.
You're both standing on the second rung on either side of a small ladder, arms raised to hold and install the base that will hold each lantern, and while you wish you could focus on the way he's biting the corner of his lip in concentration or the way his pectorals have seeped their way into the fabric of his tank, all you can do is groan in relief and step off the latter as soon as he announces, "All set."
"Thank god," you sigh, shaking your arms out as he steps off the ladder, "I wasn't built for physical labour."
Puffing his fringe of hair away from his damp forehead and his eyes, Caleb raises a brow, "Don't give me that, I found you haulin' your new armchair from your driveway to your front door five minutes after the box was dropped off."
"That's only because it was about to rain! I didn't want it to get damaged before I even brought it in, so I-"
"Um, excuse me?" A small, shaky voice cuts through your defense.
You both turn to see a little girl, no more than five or six, standing at the base of your porch steps, posture hunched, eyes glassy. She's clad in various shades of pastel, one of her socks sliding halfway down her ankle, clutching a stuffed dog by one ear in her right hand and biting the thumb of her left.
Before you can shake off your surprise, Caleb's already moving toward her, his broad frame folding to rest his forearms on his knees so they're eye level.
"Hey there, sweet pea. You alright?" His voice softens into the same warm, soothing tone he used when he comforted you after one of your disastrous dates, and you can see the way it smooths the ripple between her brows the same way it's smoothed your hurt and pride.
She starts to nod, then shakes her head, and you finally descend the steps to join them when her lips start to wobble. “My b-brother ran again and sh- she told me to wait there but I- but I don't know where my house is anymore."
“That’s okay,” you say immediately, giving her a smile you hope is more assured than you feel since you have no clue who 'she' or her brother even are. You look over at Caleb, widening your eyes at his shrug but keeping your voice steady, “We can all figure it out together.”
“What’s your name?” Caleb asks.
"L-Lily," she murmurs around her thumb.
“Well, Lily,” Caleb smiles a little, slowly reaching out a hand for a handshake. “I’m Caleb."
Unwilling to pry her little hands away from her only sources of comfort, Lily raises the stuffed puppy in her fist toward Caleb in response, the hound-like creature dangling a few inches from his palm.
Unfazed, Caleb takes one of the puppy's paws with his left hand and shakes it with his right, playfully greeting them both with a, "Nice t'meet ya Lily and Lily's friend."
His overly formal greeting makes her giggle, the tears in her eyes disappearing as she tucks the stuffed toy under her arm and glances shyly at you.
Unsure how to put her at ease like Caleb, and afraid a wrong move might bring her tears back, your smile turns strained, and you glance from Lily to Caleb (whose eyes have become a little too amused for your liking) helplessly.
Just as you wonder if you're about to be the reason a little girl experiences her first awkward silence in life, Caleb interjects with a reassuring squeeze of your knee. "Well, this is my friend, Lily. And just like your friend's a puppy, my friend's... an angel," he tips his head in your direction and lowers his voice conspiratorially, "And angels are especially good at helpin' people find things."
So much for avoiding the awkwardness, you think as you feel a blush wash over your face. Only, as you smack Caleb's hand from your knee and open your mouth to correct him, the little girl's eyes widen in awe. "Really?" she breathes, as if speaking any louder might make you disappear.
You despair over your inability to do just that when Caleb's thumb gently traces over your burning cheek, and he lowers his voice, "See this, Lily?" You try your best not to glare when he winks at you as Lily studies your face and then nods. "An angel's cheeks glow when they're about to help someone who needs it."
From then on, poor Lily is just another member of the neighbourhood who becomes putty in Caleb's large, capable hands.
He lets her hold onto his middle and pointer fingers as he gives her a tour of your front porch, all the while asking her about her street, her door colour, and any other distinct features about her yard that might help him find her home.
He holds her stuffed puppy for her when she tries to use both hands to climb onto your porch swing. He brings her water and some apple slices to hydrate her when he notices her hairline is damp with sweat.
When he's ready to step aside and make some calls, he hands her to you, calming your frantic head shake with a squeeze of your shoulder when Lily settles right into your hold.
By the time Caleb reaches the right person — apparently, Lily wandered away from her babysitter — your muscles have finally relaxed, and Lily's nestled her head into the nook of your shoulder, her stuffed puppy tucked safely between you.
Caleb's just rejoined you on the porch when a woman comes jogging up your driveway, calling Lily's name.
“Oh, thank goodness! There you are!” she pants, making the little girl in your arms go alert and reach for her caretaker.
As the woman scoops Lily from your arms, she continues her panicked explanation, “I am so, so sorry — I turned my back for one second—”
"No, no, it’s okay,” you say quickly, relieved to have the situation (and the weight of a little girl as well as her safety, comfort, and happiness) off your shoulders.
Caleb comes up beside you and reassures her. “We were more than happy to help, and Lily made our afternoon a little more exciting.”
Lily holds up her stuffed animal, leans into her babysitter's face and says, "Both of us."
Huffing an amused breath, the woman looks between you and Caleb, his hand curved around your waist, his chest pressed against the back of your shoulder.
"Thank you, again," she says, a relieved smile blooming. “It’s amazing that this neighbourhood has so many kind couples willing to help out."
Feeling your finally-calmed cheeks heat up again, you stammer out, "O-oh, we're n-"
"It was our pleasure. We're just tryin' to keep our community safe," Caleb cuts in, banding his arm around your waist and pulling you into his warm, solid chest. His finger taps against your flaming cheek, and you can't see him, but you just know by Lily's giggle that he's winked at her over their inside joke.
His next words are low, gravelly, and feel like the rasp of his stubble against your ear, "Riiight.... angel?"
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
cw: caleb’s need for you is just selfish btw, he’s lowkey manipulative if you squint, age gap not specified, you cheat on your fiancée, smut, quick mention of spitting
imagine… 🫧☁️
۶ৎ dilf!caleb who is always there for you. he’s proven to be dependable since the day you moved in as he politely greeted you and your fiancée, insisting that should you ever need him for anything, he’s always one house away.
he was there for the moments where you’d shyly knock on his front door and ask if he’d help move some heavy boxes, there for when the cracks in your already damaged relationship became too exposed to hide.
۶ৎ dilf!caleb wouldn’t have needed to be told that your poor excuse of a soon-to-be husband wasn’t taking proper care of and valuing a sweet little thing like you. he could see it in all the late nights of an empty driveway with the lights on inside and your stressed early morning phone calls through the kitchen window.
you were young, naive—understandably scared to be abandoned by the one you thought you’d share a proper life with. though he was fairly older than you in comparison, silver strands spread throughout his deep brown hair with a face and body just barely aged by the experience that is life, caleb swore he could give you better. knew that he would.
with his age came knowledge, and he knew that you’d have a much more permanent need him for sooner than later.
۶ৎ dilf!caleb is a man who doesn’t let opportunities slip through his fingers and considered you a prize to be won. after all the times you still slid your smaller hand into his in greeting despite how consistent your interactions had already become, the contents of your captivating character only added to your beauty.
your softness and gentle cadence easily became his weakness. your youth, your potential, it was all being wasted on someone far too undeserving.
“another uh… work trip,” you brushed off in defense of your partner when he inquired about his absence. “couldn’t miss it, even though we’re still settling in. so it’s just… all up to me to get it together around here.”
he was stepping out, it was evident. caleb swore he’d stay in his place though, knowing he wasn’t one to partake in destroying a union. but close observation soon made him wonder if one could really be capable of wrecking something that was clearly beyond repair.
he already knew the answer, and quickly adapted the mentality that what one man didn’t treasure, another should take. of course he was determined to be that man.
۶ৎ dilf!caleb who becomes the epitome of what patience means. you were delicate and in need of someone like him to come save you, someone to teach you, even if you didn’t know it yet.
he didn’t know why he was so adamant about all that is you. what mattered was that he thrived off of it and craved you even more. he grew obsessed with the feeling of that swell in his chest when he’d catch a glimpse of your silhouette or was graced by your bubbly laughter.
carefully did he find ways to embed himself into that role you were silently desiring. after weeks of being the one to help make your hollow house a home, bringing dinner he prepared and eating with you so you didn’t have to feel so lonely, and wiping your tears after you finally broke and told him you didn’t what you were going to do, all he did was kiss the top of your head and comfort you with a hidden smile.
finally, right then he knew, he’d caught you.
۶ৎ dilf!caleb who knows you want him just as much and does nothing to hide it, making keeping you all the more easier. he pretended to not notice how you slyly watched his biceps bulge when he did the heavy lifting or softened your gaze with a deep intensity burning underneath whenever he’d lift his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. even the way you stayed hooked onto his every word like it was gospel was addictive.
you’ve never experienced such a man before, one so attentive and willing. this strong and capable. how could you pretend that he didn’t have an effect on you?
you became enamored by the softer stomach still packed with muscle and faint lines of the crow’s feet in the outer corners of his reassuring eyes when he gave you that charming smile.
۶ৎ dilf!caleb takes care of you, treats like you are someone worthy of all his care and dedication. you already knew you were in trouble when the gap in age and your current strained relationship never once crossed your mind.
۶ৎ dilf!caleb would please you better than any man you’ve ever had. he proves himself with his face buried in between you legs, sucking on your clit and sloppily licking you in the most inebriating way possible until your back is arching off the dining table he’s built for you.
he was fisting your dress as he kept it bunched above your hip, groaning into your wetness each time you bucked and tightened your grip in his scalp. the feeling of his light stubble grazing your thighs only helped in keeping you strung on the way he took control of your body.
“c-caleb… shit—w-we shouldn’t—mm—b-be doing this..” your words were telling him one thing, but your mewls and the pressure your thighs applied to the sides of his head were giving him the truth.
“then tell me to stop.” you didn’t. instead you gasped as he spit on your cunt before devouring you once again like a man deprived. “i’m givin’ you what you need. let me do that.”
each slow lick of his tongue teased your puffy pussy lips and he wasn’t leaving until he properly imprinted himself into you completely.
۶ৎ dilf!caleb would stare into your eyes as he undoes his belt buckle, hooded violet gaze flicking between your lustful stare, disheveled clothes, and cunt glistening from his spit and your sticky slick.
“when’s the last time you been fucked, huh?”
your eyes widen at his vulgarity, but the shiver that washes through you because of it was more than welcomed.
“i don’t… i dunno.. ‘s been awhile.” you whimper when he pulls himself out of his jeans. he was thick… heavy. you’ve never had anything like this, desired something as sinful as him. but when he nudged your clit with his bulbous tip and swiped it teasingly down your slit, somehow you knew this was all you’ve ever wanted.
“gonna take care of you,” he promises, positioning himself at your entrance. “in all the ways you’ve been missin’ baby, i promise. he doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t need you. but i do.”
۶ৎ dilf!caleb wouldn’t go easy on you. the force he was giving was meant to knock that bastard and any before him out of your system. his thrusts nearly made you choke on your breath, had satisfied tears spilling down your temples.
“s-so damn pretty,” he cooed, switching between your tits as he took handfuls. “cheatin’ on him with me.. you like this don’t you? s’okay, don’t needa tell me, honey. just keep making me feel it.”
you belonged to him now and that silver band on your finger? it was insulting. disrespectful.
“this is our home now, yeah? my house is yours, too. the money i’ve spent my life earning… everything is for you, isn’t it?” caleb’s hips never faltered as he continued to give your hot pussy deep strokes. he chuckled at your drunken nods of blissful acceptance. “tightest fucking pussy i’ve ever had… she’s been waitin’ for me.”
reaching for your fingers, he goes for your ring and pulls it off before tossing it somewhere unimportant. “gold looks better on you. you’ll see.”
۶ৎ dilf!caleb loves watching how your cunt almost struggles to fit him as you leave his dick glistening with your arousal after every push and pull. but he has a feeling that the man whose headlights shine through the windows as he pulls into the driveway, won’t. he keeps drilling into you though, ready to stake his claim and prepared to make it final.
just as he planned.
a/n: this is all @deepspacenova’s FAULT!!!! (ily) ever since i read her takes on dilf!caleb… ohhhh, i just had to. this got soooo much longer than i intended it to, BUT DON’T BLAME ME!!! BLAME NOVA BAE!!!! plsss go read her versions of him, too —here— & —here—!! thank you for reading, my cuties. i hope you liked it as much as i did writing 🤭
creds to @/pixopix for the pink dividers & @/asiatic-apple for the username banner!
➻➻ I recently spiraled about dilf neighbour!sylus and zayne and @blessdunrest said 'spiral more' and who am I to refuse that? So here's some thoughts and headcanons about your dilf neighbour!caleb.
UPDATE: there are now spin off fics for this here and here
Your tall, charismatic, older neighbour, Caleb (who wears a uniform), has been your neighbour for years, both of you having inherited your homes from your family a few months apart.
You two pretty much click instantly, never running out of things to discuss, dissect, or argue about.
There's an inherent magnetism about him as well; in the way he grins at you from across the yard, boyish charm blended into lines of age and life's experience; in the way that he winks at you when you're out watering your plants, shoulder propped against the post of his front porch; in the way that he casually drapes his arm over your shoulder to pull you into his side when the creepy neighbour from down the block refuses to take your hints to end the small talk.
Although he's friendly, he also tends to keep to himself and never seems to have much company over. In fact, since the first time Caleb invited you to take your pick of his apple harvest a few autumns ago, you're pretty sure you're the only person who's been inside his home.
Despite this, however, Caleb is undoubtedly the most popular guy on the block. The ladies of the neighbourhood walk slower as they pass his sidewalk and ask him about his day, the men of the neighbourhood loiter to have a chat about this vehicle or that yard project.
Even the neighbourhood dogs make themselves at home on his beautifully trimmed lawn, bounding happily over to collect their treats from him when he whistles for them between two fingers.
Unfortunately, you're no better than any of them.
You don't even know how many times he's caught you sitting under the shade of his apple tree in the summer, reading a book. Then again, instead of politely waving you off like he does with others, he always offers you a glass of his freshly made soda with a flourish and a, "Would my lil trespasser care for a refreshment?"
You also start timing your departure for work to match the exact moment he leaves for his morning run, just so you can watch him greet you in his thigh-hugging running shorts and admire his backside when he opens the door to your car for you with a, "Knock 'em dead today, angel."
Your reaction to 'angel' must give you away because that's all he calls you now — "Mornin' angel." "Angel, you alright?" "Let me help with that, angel." — voice lower and rougher around the syllables in a way that makes your knees melt into liquid each time.
And you're not entirely sure, but you think he might have his own version of this, which is 'keepin' your mail safe for ya' while you're out, just so he can knock on your door before you go to bed with nothing but bare chest, grey sweats, a few envelopes, and a crooked grin.
The day you knock on his door with fresh lemon bars from the lemons on your tree, though? When you answer his questioning stare with a stammered explanation that you'd noticed he preferred sour treats? That's the day the playful glint in his eyes deepens into something affectionate, something more intent, something darker and more... possessive.
From then on, all he does is work on projects around your house (around both of your houses, really) on the weekend.
You've come home from both days and nights out to find everything from a new sprinkler system and an upgraded porch swing to cobblestone pathways that lead from your back door to his, and even a newly planted apple seedling in your backyard.
That's only the improvements on the exterior of your house. You've lost count of all the things Caleb's helped you with on the inside (that you aren't even sure you've mentioned to him).
At least twice a week, you open your door to Caleb in ripped jeans, a muscle tank, and a toolbelt, ready to fix your garbage disposal, change out your alarm system, update your smoke detectors, or start on some other project that ends with you talking the day away until dinner.
Though you usually spend dinner together, the meal itself is always a playful argument between you and Caleb. Mainly, who's cooking for whom since you insist on repaying him for all his help, and he insists on you sitting comfortably and sharing your day with him while he helps you out.
Regardless of who cooks, though, Caleb even makes it a point to take care of your kitchen, helping you change the hardware, update the light fixtures, and even bringing his knife sharpener with him every few months, "so you're not losin' any of those pretty fingers of yours."
You haven't really asked about his previous jobs, but you know it must've involved engineering, since he's really good with machinery. So good, actually, that you haven't needed a new mower, furnace, or oil change for your car in months.
When you don't feel satisfied that you've shown him enough gratitude for all he does to help you, you make sure you send him home on Sunday night with a full week of meal prep so he has a filling lunch at work. You also bring over pillows and curtains and throws to help make his bare living room more lively.
Everything and yet nothing at all seems to change the night he spots you pulling into your driveway past 1am, though. When you don't question why he's waited up for you as he opens your car door and his irises go from sparkling to concerned to deadly when he catches your red-rimmed eyes. When you explain the way you were stood up on your date.
Because that's when he calmly locks your car, takes your bag, and leads you to his living room, marked with your signature in every corner, to settle you with warm tea and open arms and a murmured, "c'mere, angel."
Because that's when you press against his chest, settle into his heartbeat, and let him take care of your mind and your body as securely and attentively as he's cared for each inch of your house for years.
Because that's the first of many times he watches your short trek home from his front porch in the middle of the night, arms crossed, sharp, affectionate possession carved into his face, refusing to go inside until he sees you through your living room window.
Because that's the first of many times you leave your mysterious, handsome, attentive, and much older neighbour's home with some undiscovered crack in your heart filled with molten gold the colour of his eyes, and you realize: you're so fucked.
WC: 881 | sfw, slice of life, fluff, valko being clingy, desperate and dramatic af | I don't support infold's bs
Valko who absolutely loves head scratches.
Valko who's upset because you stopped crawling and scratching his head but your hand is so tired. After all you've been doing this for hours now, but seems like the big body on yours just can't have enough!
Valko who looks up at you with his sad puppy eyes. His head is on your stomach, his whole body weight practically stopping blood flow to the rest of your body as he lays on there, but you so very much like this feeling as well as the fact his big and strong arms hug your waist. His soft looking lips frown a little, even pout if you squint. Even his fluffy ears folded.
"Oh come on.. my hand's hurting" you chuckle, resting your hand on his back.
Valko let out the most dramatic sigh you had ever heard, the kind that belonged in a stage play rather than your tiny living room. His shoulders slumped even further, somehow making the giant of a man look heartbreakingly small despite the fact he was currently crushing you into the couch.
"But..." he mumbled, his voice muffled against your shirt. "You were doing such a good job." A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. "Oh? Was I?"
"Mhm." He nodded with complete seriousness. "Five-star service. Best head scratches in the whole world." His fingers absentmindedly traced little circles against your waist as if he hoped the affectionate gesture would somehow convince your hand to keep going. "I'd even leave a glowing review."
"You are unbelievable."
"I've been told I'm unforgettable."
"You've also been told you're heavy."
"I choose to ignore that feedback."
He flashed you a grin that lasted all of two seconds before melting back into another exaggerated pout. Those warm yellow-green orbs found yours again, impossibly soft, practically shimmering with theatrical betrayal. His tail, as fluffy and long as can be, was dragging dramatically across the floor.
"Please?" he asked, stretching the word into something almost pitiful. "Just... a little?"
"My hand is cramping, Valko.."
"I can kiss it better."
You raised an eyebrow.
"I can kiss both hands better, actually."
"...That doesn't actually solve the problem."
"Okay, but it solves morale."
You snorted so hard your chest shook beneath him.
Valko whose smile returned instantly and ears perked up at the sound, victorious. He always looked happiest when he managed to make you laugh. His forehead nudged gently against your stomach in a lazy little nuzzle before he tilted his head to look at you again.
"I don't need scratches," he said after a thoughtful pause. "Oh, now you don't?"
"...I would also accept for you to play with my hair."
"That's the same thing, Valko." You slyly smile.
"I'd also accept forehead rubs."
"Valko."
"..Ear rubs?"
You couldn't help it. Another laugh bubbled out of you, and Valko beamed like he'd won an award.
"There it is," he whispered proudly. "Worth it."
Your tired hand drifted from his back to his messy hair almost on instinct, fingers brushing through the soft strands just once. Valko froze. His eyes fluttered shut. His head lifted a little to rub itself deeper into your hand.
A pleased hum rumbled deep in his chest, low and content, vibrating against you. Every bit of tension seemed to melt from his broad frame in an instant. He leaned harder into your touch, careful this time not to put quite as much weight on you, though his arms never loosened around your waist.
"There..." you murmured, combing your fingers through his hair one last time. "Happy?". He nodded. "So happy..for now. I might ask you for more later. Tomorrow if I'm merciful."
You rolled your eyes fondly, trying to look angry but your lips curling up to form a smile betrayed you. "I never agreed to daily appointments."
"You don't have to." His smile softened into something so warm it made your heart ache. "I already know you'll spoil me anyway."
"You are spoiled, that is true."
Valko who says he prefers the term 'enthusiastically loved'. You stared at him for a second before reaching over with your other hand to gently squish one of his cheeks. "You know," you sighed, "you're impossible."
"And yet..." Valko turned just enough to press a quick kiss into your palm, lingering there for a heartbeat. "...you still let me lay on you."
"Well, mostly because if I wanted to move you, I'd need a construction crew."
Valko whose laughter came easily, rich and warm enough that you felt it vibrate through his chest where it rested against you. It was infectious. Before long, you were laughing too, the room filling with the easy sound of two people who had long since stopped caring how ridiculous they looked.
Eventually the laughter faded into a comfortable silence. Valko rested his chin on your stomach again, absentmindedly tracing lazy patterns against your side with his thumb. The earlier theatrics were gone now, replaced by the quiet contentment that always seemed to settle over him whenever the two of you had nowhere else to be.
"You know..." he murmured, "I like this." You opened your eyes, looking down to him. "Being squashed?". He shook his head. "Being here.." His gaze wandered around the room before returning to you, softer than before.
"No running around. No errands. No people bothering us." He smiled faintly. "Just you."
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.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
the morning light slips through the blinds, catching the slight dust motes floating in the air, and the first thing you feel is warmth. not just the heat of the blankets, but the heavy, solid weight of valko draped over you like a very large, very clingy blanket.
except he isn’t a blanket. he’s a 6’2” tech chairman with dark circles under his golden eyes and a terrible habit of refusing to sleep. but right now, the evidence of that habit is staring you right in the face.
his head is pillowed on your chest, his dark maroon hair absolutely impossibly messy and his ears twitchy.
you can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of your throat. they’re so fluffy. they look so soft, resting against his head, slightly drooped in his state of half-consciousness. he grumbles something unintelligible, nuzzling his face deeper into the fabric of your shirt.
“mm… wake me up with that sound again,” he mumbles, his voice a deep, gravelly whisper that greets you every morning if you have a chance to see him wake up.
you bring your hands up, tracing the shell of his left ear gently with your fingertip. he shivers, a full-body reaction, and his arms tighten around your waist. “no, no, don’t do that,” he groans, but he’s leaning into your touch like a big puppy starved for affection.
“you’re so cute when you’re sleepy,” you tease, sliding your fingers up to scratch the spot just behind the base of his ear.
his eyes snap open, that sharp, predatory gold staring right at you. “cute?” he echoes, offended and amused all at once. “i am anything but cute.”
“and you’re pouting,” you point out, poking his cheek. “and your ear is still twitching.”
his ears do twitch, betraying him. he glares at you, but there’s no heat in it. instead, he pushes himself up, caging you in with his arms, his face inches from yours. he’s so tall, so broad, that the sheer size of him blocks out the ceiling. it’s a little overwhelming, in the best way.
“you’re asking for it,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. you don’t know what you’re asking for exactly, but it doesn’t seem so bad, especially not after he attacks.
his lips land on your forehead first— a soft, featherlight press that lingers. then he dips down, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose, then your left cheek, then your right cheek. each one is quick, playful, leaving trails of warmth.
“valko—” you laugh, squirming beneath him.
he doesn’t stop. he trails a line of wet, sloppy kisses down your jaw, making a loud, ridiculous mwah sound against your chin. “you taste like victory to me,” he announces, kissing the corner of your mouth. “… sweet too.”
“shut up,” you protest weakly, giggling.
“it’s just you, i think,” he says, his smile turning soft. he finally captures your lips, a quick, sweet show of affection, tasting of morning breath and warmth. he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes lidded and soft. he nuzzles his nose against yours, his ears perked up and alert now, fully awake.
you reach up, burying your fingers in his hair, and his eyes flutter closed. he practically melts into your touch, letting out a low, happy hum.
“okay,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you again, slower this time, savoring it. he peppers a final kiss to your forehead and rests his chin on your sternum, his big body covering yours entirely, his ears flopping forward adorably. “you win. i’m cute.”
“thank you for admitting it,” you say, scratching behind his ear again.
he nips playfully at your shoulder, a low growl vibrating in his chest that’s more pleasure than threat. “don’t push it, pretty. or i’ll have to spend the rest of the day proving how un-cute i can be.”
his ears twitch again. you don’t say anything, but you don’t need to. he knows you caught him.
he lets out a dramatic sigh, dropping his head onto your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. “fine. but we’re staying here all day. deal with it.”
you wrap your arms around his broad back, squeezing him tight. “deal, puppy.”
alex’s notes: couldn’t help it after seeing all the cute stuff w him
contains: dry humping & some domesticity. that's it that's all ^.^
wc: 1.9K (idk how i did that)
i did proofread, but yk... ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜
so easy to fall in love ♡
“saturday? yeah, i got it. well, tell auntie that we’ll try our best to be there, but i can’t make any promises.”
your eyebrows furrow and your lips morph into a curious pout as you zone in on the tail end of your boyfriend’s phone call. the movie you had been streaming immediately became unimportant with the brief mention of his family claiming your full attention instead.
likely referring to another impromptu get-together that they’re clearly asking for you both to attend, you were itching to learn the details of it over the plot of a film you admittedly had little interest in before you even pressed play. the fact that the volume hadn’t made it past ten should’ve been enough to emphasize its insignificance.
“doesn’t matter to me, but i’ll ask her and see what she thinks.” valko exhales with a hum of approval in acknowledgment to whatever else his cousin was relaying, leaning back and tilting his head so that his temple can rest comfortably against your knee. with the warmth of him against you and the soft caress of his fingers along and around your ankle, little moments like these made you cherish having a man so mindlessly affectionate.
to call your boyfriend clingy was an understatement, but it was something about him that you’d never trade for anything in the world. the moment you welcomed him into your life with open arms and kissed him sweetly when he confidently asked you with the silliest smile to be his girl forever, you knew what kind of relationship it was bound to be.
to this day, it didn’t matter if he had important phone calls, intricate things to study up on, or confidential documents to overlook and analyze. one thing for certain was that he would always do any and all of it wherever you were if he could.
ten minutes go by before he’s finally sitting up and removing the earbuds from his ears and the whole headset from around his neck. whatever work he had been click-clacking away at for the last two hours after taking a shower and having dinner was disregarded when he shuts the screen of his laptop and turned to look up at you holding the cute wolf plushie he’d won for you a couple months back.
“everything okay?” you ask him softly as he faces you completely, reaching out to gently rake your fingernails through the soft and now fully dried hair right behind his ear.
getting to watch that handsome face of his fall completely relaxed and content was truly a sacred experience. his immediate submission is something you frequently tease him for when compared to his cocky demeanor, but you both knew you’d never hear the end of it should you stop for any reason.
“yeah, it’s all good. random brunch for the third time this month over the weekend. you up for it? by all means, say no if you prefer to just chill with the love of your life or whatever.”
“you and your family are just too cute. once again, i’m reminded where you get all that audacity from.”
valko grins at the giggle you can’t contain, continuing to explore the softness of your skin as you both doted on the other silently. settling between your legs while he sits on the floor was on the top of his list of his preferred kind of intimacy. “but you know i’m down if you are. i go where you go. i mean duhhh, that’s how we always move. like a pack, right?”
he leans deeper into your touch, eyes nearly falling shut completely from the euphoria he gets out of the way you love on him with one of the things he classifies as a guilty pleasure. truthfully, he wasn’t secretive about such an obsession at all, but what was known didn’t always need to be said out loud. unless used against him, of course.
“didn’t even give you any info on it yet and you’re already so eager to follow me like a good little pup, huh?”
“oh, i’m the eager one?” the protest ready to fall from his lips is first expressed in the pinch of his brows when your hand slips away from the stimulation being given to one of his favorite spots. his expressions had the tendency to give away any thoughts before he could say a word. it’s why he always says you read him better than any book he’s ever laid his eyes on.
“what the fuc—”
“watch it,” you warn playfully. whatever was to be said is swallowed down when the pads of your fingertips begin tracing the defined outline of his jawline before resting on the underside of his chin. “so quick to start with me. aren’t you supposed to be my good boy?”
valko takes your lighthearted taunting as a challenge, grasping you by the wrist and bringing it up to his nose to inhale your addictive scent and the faint aroma of your perfume.
“aren’t i always?”
“you have your moments. i’ve gotta say though, obedience looks super sexy on you.”
“hm. i bet it does.” his grin brings out the subtle dimples in his cheeks. “is it my turn to make a move now?”
he’s pulling you off the couch and on top of him before you’re capable of offering a response to his vague request. the two of you are caught in a laughing fit all the way down until his back hits the plush rug and you’re settled in his lap.
the chuckles are interrupted when you feel his not-so-little friend prodding at you for some kind of attention.
“oh, you perv.”
“perv? that’s not a nice thing to say to the man of your dreams, now is it?” he’s slipping his hands beneath your shorts as his palms slide up the outside of your thighs. “i just consider this instinctual. others would say natural. can’t blame me for what i can’t control.”
the heaviness of his hardening cock pressing into you from below had a steadily increasing heartbeat thumping in your panties. from the soft look he sports with his glasses, the oversized red sweater you got him last christmas, and the dark gray sweats doing nothing to conceal what you were quickly becoming unashamedly desperate for, no way were you getting off of him without some kind of relief.
valko watches you closely as you raise said sweater to sit below his chin, revealing the big, strong, and sculpted body that you’ve fallen helplessly head over heels for. he was hard where you were soft, and it was opposites like that that made you fit so well.
“would you look at that. and i’m the one being labeled a pervert. baby, i think we’re mixing things up.”
“can’t i admire my boyfriend? isn’t this natural?”
it’s almost like his eyes shine when you use his own words against him.
“‘course you can. in fact, you better. but…” he sniffs up at the air four times, a smug grin taking over his lips. “i’m sensing that admiration isn’t the only thing you’ve got planned in that big head of head of yours.”
“fuck off,” you laugh, pinching his nose. “and don’t act so tough.”
with one slow upward motion of your hips, the thickness pulsing against you seems to swell even bigger than before. his teeth tuck his bottom lip into his mouth from the sensation and his hold on your hips deepens, nails biting deliciously at your flesh. “admiration isn’t enough for you anyways.”
your lips fall to his quickly, tongues battling for a dominance you know he’d fight tooth and nail to be the one to conquer. but he throughly enjoys a biting prey and it’s why he loves you.
his hands are sliding out the fabric of your sleepwear to find purchase on other parts of your body the more heated your sensual exchange becomes. as he licks at the roof of your mouth and tries his hardest to devour you whole, you’re embraced by his large hands grabbing at you like the greedy beast he’s proud to be.
it’s when he makes his way back to your hips that you both know this wouldn’t last long. and when he starts to frantically guide you to grind against him faster, holding you down to feel him through the few layers of clothes that’s causing separation, instinctively you knew that it was in your best interest to prepare yourself for the more he was going to give soon after this.
“you’re not… hah—wearing underwear…” you breathe against his mouth glistening with your shared saliva. you’re quick to take off his glasses from the growing frustration of them getting in your way of being closer, discarding them towards the plush cushions with fingers crossed for a safe landing.
“aren’t you smart.” the teasing inflection in his tone and the deepness of his voice has the 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!!!
