Satoruhugger

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.”