large-noodle

fated mates with barista!valko, who knows the moment he first lays eyes on you that you are who he’s been looking for all his life. it could be the fairytale romance he always dreamt of, except that you absolutely fucking despise him.

valko has grown up dreaming about a fated mate ever since he was a kid. from bedtime stories about soulmates read to him by his older cousins, to the real-life examples he looked up to within his own extended family, this was always what he wanted for himself.

he’d be embarrassed to admit his ignorance now, but he spent most of his adolescence clinging on to romanticised ideals of what a relationship looks like. it didn’t help that he joined his older female cousins in their obsession with highly popular supernatural romance media, which led to him growing up with a warped idea of what girls want.

the ugly awakening came at some point. and valko realised that he, as the stereotype of masculine strength, has to approach romantic relationships with caution.

then he meets you.

maybe you’re a bit jaded, and you’re definitely justified in your distrust. you think he’s just some alpha fuckboy, like the countless assholes you’ve spent all your life avoiding like the plague.

you’re burnt out from your job, clinging on to unhealthy coping mechanisms and frequent the coffeeshop he just started working at. you’re almost out the door again as soon as you notice who has replaced the sweet auntie that used to serve you your caffeinated caramel abomination.

but you don’t run. the need for coffee wins out.

he’s polite and you’re standoffish, keeping interactions to a minimum, and you don’t even notice that he’s barely keeping it together. if you paid attention, you’d notice the way his fluffy wolf ears twitch to attention every time you speak, the way his golden eyes widen whenever you step inside.

you don’t trust his winning smile, glimpsing his sharp incisors often enough to know that there is a predator lurking underneath his playful exterior (you do not think about those teeth biting into your neck.)

and you definitely don’t trust the way he purposefully makes himself smaller whenever you’re around. he looks ridiculous with his ears flattened to his hair, his shoulders slightly hunched, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the pastel pink apron he wears over skin-tight muscle shirts. (you do not think about his toned biceps. you do not think about how easily he could lift you up.)

the first time you get off to the thought of valko, post-nut clarity hits you so hard that you banish your vibrator to the confines of your nightstand for two full weeks. this can't be happening.

surely, you are better than this.

your self-imposed abstinence is only making things worse. while you certainly hadn’t been immune to valko’s good looks and fresh petrichor scent before, now you're so pent up that you catch yourself staring at him while you’re sitting in your favourite booth in the back corner of the coffeeshop, cupping a mug of coffee in your hands.

you watch as he serves other customers, chatting away with an old lady who runs the vegetable shop around the corner. he seems sweet, and a lot more playful than he allows himself to be with you. he smiles broadly. (your gaze is drawn to the sharp line of his jaw and you wonder what sounds he would make if you dared to suck a hickey into the tan skin of his neck.)

his eyes snap to yours before you manage to look away. you're caught, like a deer in headlights, and to your absolute horror, his cheeks flush a pretty pink. his nostrils flare, as if he’s scenting the air.

you're absolutely mortified by what you know he must be scenting.

he’s so committed to sticking to you like a barnacle. waking up from a nap and you want to get out of bed? good luck trying to untangle yourself because this man has his arms wrapped around you tightly, tugging your back into his chest, snuggling you in his sleep. his face is pressed into your hair, and he makes soft sleepy little noises when he finally wakes up.

you’re still not getting up though. maybe you squirm a little too much, or maybe there’s a subtle shift in your scent he’s picking up on.

valko makes you cum at least twice on his tongue, his hard cock twitching every time your fingers grip his hair and happen to caress his fluffy ears. by the time you’re tugging him back up, impatient in your desire to feel him inside you, it’s over for whatever plans you had for the day.

even before you officially start going out, valko often goes out of his way to give you an extra-long squeeze whenever you initiate a hug. all you wanted was a nice warm goodbye hug when he walks you back to your apartment. what you’re getting is a face full of his warm chest, his arms wrapped so tightly around you that it draws an undignified squawk from your chest.

by the time you’re officially dating, you’re his squeaky toy.

you try to rage bait him by booping his nose, or squishing his cheeks, and he’s biting at your fingers in return. he’s careful with his sharp teeth, for now, but as soon as you’re on top of him, licking into his mouth to trace the sharp edge of his incisors with your tongue, he’s feral.

his fingers are tangled in your hair, tugging you even closer. with his free hand, he grasps your hip, holding you down on top of him.

before you know it, you’re grinding down on him, not even embarrassed by your increasingly desperate gasps as you grind on his dick. the friction is enough to make you feel stars, and you know you can cum like this.

valko’s watching you closely as you break away from his kisses long enough to take a desperate, shaky breath. his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, his flush only deepening when he realises how close you are already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh. Sure, big guy.”

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

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

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

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

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

Part 1 with the other 5 and the art that inspired this.

🔞CW: Dry humping. Dirty talk. Self love. Smut.🔞

Infold, give us our wolf back! Please!

A special thanks to @stardustsirens, I love your beautiful brain 😚

Twenty minutes. You'd been gone twenty minutes before you turned around, halfway to work, because your work folder was still sitting on the kitchen counter.

Valko had stayed the night, though not the way anyone would assume. You'd cooked too late, ended up on the couch watching movies until midnight and the idea of him driving home just to come back in a few hours was ridiculous. So he'd stayed. Folded that huge body of his onto your couch—which was built for exactly one normal sized human—insisting he was fine even though you both knew his neck would hate him for it in the morning. He hadn't so much as brought up sharing your bed. That line was still there between you, respected without either of you having to say so out loud.