Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Life with a four-year-old boy was never easy—especially when that four-year-old was Ao Ran.

Ranran to you. Ran’er to Valko. And “little chaos incarnate” to literally everyone else.

He was loud in the brightest, most relentless way possible. A curious wolf pup who never stopped talking, leaping from one thought to the next without pausing for breath. You hadn’t had a single moment of true silence since the day he figured out full sentences. Everything fascinated him, which meant everything deserved a question.

Right then was no exception.

You were standing at the stove, wooden spatula scraping against the hot pan, when a small, warm body suddenly pressed against your leg. Ran’er rose onto his tiptoes, stretching as tall as his little body would allow, soft russet ears twitching with every sizzle from the pan. His fluffy tail swept back and forth, thumping a cheerful rhythm against the lower cabinets.

“Mama?”

You smiled, not even needing to look down. “Hm?”

“Why is the pan making that sound?” His voice was bright, full of wonder.

“It’s cooking, baobao.”

“But why does cooking make sounds?”

You sprinkled in a pinch of seasoning, the fragrant steam curling upward. “The food’s hot.”

“Why?”

You chuckled. “See the water inside the vegetables? When they get really hot, it turns into steam. That’s what makes all the sizzling sounds.”

Ran’er’s ears flicked. He leaned so far forward you caught him just before his nose reached the counter.

“Ran’er, careful.” You gently pushed him back. “You’ll get burned if you get too close.”

“Oh…” His brows knitted together. “What’s eva… eva…”

“Evaporate,” you supplied gently, stirring the colorful vegetables. “It means turning into steam.”

He mulled this over, brows furrowed in deep concentration. Then his golden eyes widened. “Can people evaporate?”

“No, baby.”

“Okay.” A thoughtful pause. “If vegetables are alive before we cook them… do they scream?”

You lowered the heat with a quiet click. “…I’m going to let Baba answer that one.”

Ran’er nodded very seriously, as if this was a perfectly reasonable solution. You could already picture Valko’s tired-but-fond face later that night when he got bombarded with questions about screaming vegetables.

Unfortunately for your mate, Ran’er had inherited his father’s stubborn persistence. If he didn’t get an answer from you, he would simply wait and ask Baba instead.

As if summoned by the thought, the sound of the front door opening echoed down the hallway—keys clinking, heavy boots hitting the floor, the low creak of hinges.

Ran’er’s ears shot straight up. His tail froze mid-wag for half a second…

Then exploded into furious, joyful motion.

“Baba!”

Before you could even say “slow down,” tiny feet were already pattering across the marble floor like a stampede of one. You turned just in time to see a blur of coppery ears and fluffy tail disappearing around the corner, arms outstretched.

“Baba, Baba, Baba—! Do vegetables scream when we cook them?!”

A deep, warm chuckle rumbled from the entryway, followed by Ran’er’s delighted squeal as he was scooped up into strong arms.

That said, even in his father’s embrace, the little wolf pup could never stay still for long. Ran’er was pure motion—always moving, always exploring, never content to simply be. At daycare, you used to get called in at least twice a week because he couldn’t stop running around the classroom, climbing on furniture, or chasing after imaginary prey. Sitting still was simply not in his nature.

Eating was no different.

You and Valko had finished your own dinners long ago. Ran’er’s plate, however, was still mostly full. The little boy had spent the entire meal dashing back and forth between the dining table and the living room, playing with his toys before sprinting back for a single bite, then disappearing again. Eventually, the three of you had migrated to the couch, where you were now attempting to coax him into finishing his meal.

“Ran’er, next bite,” you called, holding up a spoonful. 

No response. Your son zoomed past the television with his toy robot held high above his head, making loud jet engine noises as he ran back and forth between the living room and the hallway. “Incoming! Mission launch! Vrooooooom!”

“Ranran, come on, baby. Just one more bite. It’s getting cold.”

He either didn’t hear you or chose not to. It was hard to tell. He was far too busy narrating an epic battle between his fearless robot and what appeared to be a very dangerous army of couch cushions. You sigh, poking at the rice that’s already lost most of its warmth. This had become the routine almost every single night.

“Ao Ran,” Valko said, voice low and gentle but carrying that natural alpha authority. “Next bite. Listen to Mama.”

Ran’er froze mid-zoom, his fluffy ears twitching at the sound of his full name. After a brief moment of hesitation, he padded over and climbed into his father’s lap instead. He tilted his head back to look up at Valko with those big golden eyes, tail swishing hopefully against his father’s side.

Valko slipped one arm securely around the wriggling little boy before raising an eyebrow. “You heard Mama. Finish your dinner first.”

“But Baba,” Ran’er whined, dragging out the word in that dramatic way only four-year-olds could manage. He pointed at the abandoned robot on the floor. “The robot has to save people! They’ve been waiting forever!”

“The robot can wait five more minutes,” Valko replied. “Your food cannot.”

Ran’er puffed his cheeks out in protest, ears flattening slightly. He squirmed again, clearly calculating whether he could make another break for it. Valko simply tightened his hold just enough to keep him in place without making him feel trapped.

“Three more bites,” Valko bargained, his deep voice warm but firm. “Three bites and then you can play until bath time.”

Ran’er considered this offer with the seriousness of a tiny diplomat. His tail slowed its frantic wagging as he weighed his options. Finally, after a long, dramatic sigh that sounded far too old for his little body, he leaned forward and opened his mouth for the spoonful you were holding.

You quickly slipped the bite in before he could change his mind. He chewed with exaggerated slowness, still eyeing the robot like it might run away without him.

Your son had never been good at sitting still. He loved moving. Always had.

Ever since he’d figured out how to walk without immediately toppling over, Ao Ran had become a tiny force of nature that seemed physically incapable of staying in one place for longer than thirty seconds. As a toddler, he thought nothing of scaling the back of the sofa like it was a mountain, launching himself off the armrests, or sprinting full-speed through the house with zero regard for corners, tables, or his parents’ racing hearts. There were countless times you and Valko nearly had a heart attack—like the afternoon he tried to climb the tall bookshelf, or when he somehow wedged himself halfway through the balcony railing, tail wagging proudly while you both lunged to grab him.

There was also the horrifying phase where he’d discovered he could jump off the third stair and, after Valko caught him exactly once, became absolutely convinced that Baba would simply materialize out of thin air every single time. You’d nearly had a heart attack. Several, actually. Valko had calmly explained that no, Baba could not teleport. Ran’er had asked if he could learn. You blamed his father for answering, “Maybe when you’re older,” because after that, Ran’er spent the next two days randomly throwing himself off furniture to “practice.”

Sometimes you missed the simpler days, back when he was only nine months old and just learning how to crawl. Back then, the most dangerous thing he did was suddenly sprout fluffy ears and a tail when his magic flared up. His little wolf ears and fluffy tail hadn’t stayed hidden very well as a baby. His magic was still unstable then, slipping in and out whenever he got excited, sleepy, hungry, or particularly emotional.

One second he’d look perfectly human.

The next—

Pop. Two tiny coppery ears.

Swish. A fluffy little tail.

The first few times it happened, he’d been so startled that he’d tried to eat his own tail, chomping down on it with wide, confused golden eyes while you and Valko scrambled to calm him. He’d spend ages lying on his tummy, twisting himself into impossible positions trying to catch the fluffy thing swishing behind him. Whenever he finally managed to grab it… straight into his mouth it went.

“Ran’er,” you’d laugh, gently pulling the damp tail away. “We don’t eat our tail.”

He’d blink at you with wide golden eyes before immediately trying again. As though perhaps the second attempt would taste better.

Even then, Valko had been endlessly patient. Whenever he came home from work, he’d scoop up your tiny son and lay back on the rug, settling the baby carefully on top of his stomach. Tiny hands wrapped around Valko’s fingers. Tiny feet wobbling uncertainly.

“Stand.”

Ran’er would wobble. Giggle. Almost topple over. Valko would steady him without effort. “Good.”

Then, with complete seriousness, he’d tilt his head back slightly.

“Awoo.”

Ran’er would stare at him.

“...Ah.”

“Awoo.”

“...Ah-woooo!”

The tiny, squeaky little howl was so pitiful it barely deserved the name, but Valko’s eyes would soften anyway.

“Again.”

“Ahhh-wooo!”

His fluffy tail would wag so hard his whole body bounced with it.

Again:

“Awoo.”

And baby Ran’er, ears twitching, would tilt his head back and let out the tiniest, squeakiest “Awooo!” in return. Again and again. Until eventually the living room would be filled with one deep, rumbling wolf’s howl… followed by one tiny, breathy little imitation that dissolved into delighted baby giggles halfway through.

Now here he was—four years old, still a chaos gremlin, but bigger, faster, and twice as clever.

Which, unfortunately, also meant he had become much better at sneaking away.

During his first few weeks of daycare, you and Valko had been summoned often enough that the teachers started greeting you with apologetic smiles before you even reached the office. Somehow, your son had managed to convince half his class to follow him out to the enormous garden behind the school, where they’d spent lunch digging in the flowerbeds and making “mud soup” with sticks and leaves.

The children had the time of their lives.

Their parents... considerably less so.

More than one child went home in a once-pristine uniform that now sported muddy knees, grass stains, and mysterious brown handprints. You’d had to apologize more than once, and Ao Ran had received a very serious talk about why he couldn’t lead expeditions without telling his teachers first.

To his credit, he listened.

Well... mostly.

After that, he limited his adventures to lunchtime, when outdoor play was actually allowed.

Nearly every afternoon, his teacher would send photos to the parents’ group chat. Without fail, Ran’er was never the child sitting quietly on the bench. He was halfway up the climbing frame, sprinting across the playground with a pack of equally energetic friends, or tearing through the sprawling garden with his reddish-brown ears flattened by the wind and his tail streaming behind him.

Home, however, presented a different challenge.

Since you and Valko both worked during the day, his great-grandmother insisted on looking after him.

“Aiya, save your money! Nainai is still strong,” she’d told the two of you the first time you’d suggested hiring a nanny. “I’m perfectly capable of keeping one little wolf in line.”

She was.

Mostly.

Ran’er had developed a habit of waiting until naptime. He would lie perfectly still beneath his blanket, eyes closed, breathing slow and even until his great-grandmother quietly left the room, convinced he had finally fallen asleep.

Then, not thirty seconds later...

The bed would be empty.

She’d inevitably find him in the vast garden behind the mansion—hiding behind hedges, crouching beneath bushes, or proudly perched in the branches of a low tree, giggling to himself while she called his name.

“Ran’er,” she’d sigh, hands on her hips. “I can see your tail.”

A tiny gasp would come from behind the shrub.

His fluffy copper tail would disappear.

“...Can you still see me now?”

Unfortunately, that particular game had never gone out of style.

The dishes had long since been cleared away, and the last of the sunset had begun melting into soft gold and violet beyond the mansion windows.

The dishes had long since been cleared away, and the last of the sunset had begun melting into soft gold and violet beyond the tall mansion windows. The sky was painted in those dreamy hues that only appear right before twilight fully claims the world, with the first stars just beginning to prick through.

“...Ran’er?”

Silence.

You frowned, drying your hands on a kitchen towel as you glanced toward the living room. A few minutes ago the little whirlwind had been right there, zooming his toy cars across the rug while dramatically narrating the latest “Car Racing Championship.”

“He was just here.”

Valko looked up from where he’d been stacking the last of the plates, his golden eyes narrowing slightly in that familiar, attentive way. “...Ran’er?”

No delighted little voice answered. No giggle. No patter of running feet.

The two of you exchanged a quick, tense look. Ran’er had wandered off often enough that hiding was the most likely explanation—but that didn’t stop your heart from racing every single time. He was only four. It took just one moment for a curious little pup to end up somewhere he shouldn’t.

Without another word, the search began.

You moved through the house together at first, checking all the usual hiding spots. His bedroom with its mountain of stuffed animals. The playroom, where half-built block towers still stood like miniature cities. The library, where he sometimes tried to “hide” by burying himself under a pile of cushions and books. You even checked the blanket fort he'd insisted on sleeping in the night before, now half-collapsed and suspiciously quiet.

With a worried sigh, you and Valko stepped out together onto the back terrace and descended the wide stone steps into the garden at the rear of the mansion. The evening air was cool and sweet, carrying the scent of blooming night jasmine from the gardens.

Valko paused on the soft grass. A shimmer of light rippled over his body. In one fluid, breathtaking moment, his human form melted away. Bones shifted, muscles expanded, and rich reddish-brown fur spilled across his frame until the enormous wolf stood in his place, ears pricked high as he lifted his nose to the evening breeze. His tail swayed once, slow and thoughtful.

You couldn’t help but smile. Stepping closer, you ran a hand through the thick reddish-brown fur around his neck, scratching lightly behind one ear. The great wolf huffed contentedly, nudging his head briefly against your hand.

“...Go find our pup.”

He huffed softly in response before bounding across the lawn with effortless, ground-eating speed. He disappeared between the tall hedges like a shadow, silent despite his size.

You waited among the flowering bushes, arms wrapped loosely around yourself against the cooling air. For a while there was only the evening chorus of insects, the soft rustle of leaves, and the distant call of a night bird.

Then—

Yip!

A high-pitched, triumphant bark echoed from somewhere beyond the hedges.

Another answered it—smaller, cheekier, unmistakably Ran’er.

Then came a deep, unmistakably amused bark from Valko, low and rolling like distant thunder wrapped in affection.

You laughed under your breath. “...Found him.”

A few moments later the hedges rustled violently. Valko emerged at an easy trot, head held high, carrying a very wriggly little red wolf pup gently by the scruff of his neck. Ran’er’s tiny legs bicycled wildly through the air, his fluffy red tail wagging so furiously that his entire body wiggled and twisted with the motion. His golden eyes were bright with pure, unfiltered delight at being caught.

The moment Valko lowered him onto the soft grass, the pup burst forward like a russet streak across the grass. He sprinted one ecstatic victory lap around you, yipping at the top of his little lungs, before immediately circling his father instead. He barked excitedly, as if announcing to the entire garden that he had definitely escaped on purpose and had not been hiding at all.

After a few more zooming circles, Ran’er suddenly veered toward you. He skidded to a stop at your feet, bouncing on his tiny paws with an impatient yip. His front paws patted rapidly against your leg, tail spinning like a propeller as he demanded to be picked up. When you crouched down, he launched himself into your arms with a happy wriggle, stretching up to lick your cheek and chin with enthusiastic, slightly damp wolf kisses. You laughed as his fluffy ears tickled your face, his little body warm and vibrating with pure joy.

“Alright, alright, you little escape artist,” you murmured, hugging him close for a moment while he continued licking your jaw with happy little squeaks.

Only then did he remember his original target. He squirmed eagerly in your arms until you set him down again.

Valko merely huffed, lowering his great head to watch his son with patient amusement.

The pup crouched low, hindquarters wiggling with anticipation, fluffy ears pinned back in playful determination.

Then—

Pounce.

Tiny paws landed squarely across Valko’s massive, bushy tail. Ran’er triumphantly clamped his little teeth around the thick coppery fur and gave it the fiercest shake his tiny body could manage, growling with all the ferociousness a pup his size could summon.

Valko didn’t even flinch. His tail flicked once—a lazy, powerful swipe—and the motion rolled the pup clean onto his back with comical ease.

“Yip!”

Undeterred, Ran’er scrambled upright in a tangle of paws and fluff, then charged again. This time he launched himself at his father’s neck, little jaws opening wide in a playful chomp against the thick ruff of fur around Valko’s shoulders. He hung there for a second, legs kicking, looking ridiculously proud of himself.

Valko finally reacted. He lowered his massive head and nudged the pup over with his nose, then gently pinned him beneath one enormous foreleg. Ran’er wriggled dramatically beneath the warm weight, tiny paws paddling uselessly in the air as he let out a string of indignant little growls—all bark and absolutely no bite.

You laughed from where you stood among the flowers. “Don’t talk back to your father, Ran’er.”

Valko glanced your way, golden eyes warm with quiet amusement and something deeper—pure, contented joy. Then, just to prove he was still very much in charge, he leaned down and gave the top of Ran’er’s head one thorough, affectionate grooming lick, his tongue rumpling the pup’s fluffy ears.

The pup let out the most offended little squeak imaginable, squirming even harder as he tried (and failed) to escape the bath. His tail, however, never stopped wagging.

You watched the two of them—the enormous wolf and his tiny shadow—tumbling together on the grass as the last light of sunset faded into stars overhead. The garden filled with happy yips, deep playful rumbles, and your own soft laughter.

Which, unfortunately, was exactly why bath time existed.

Ran’er had an extraordinary talent for finding every patch of dirt, every muddy puddle, and every leaf the garden had to offer. By the end of most days, his rich reddish-brown coat was caked with mud from nose to tail.

Ironically, for a pup who loved making a mess of himself, there was nothing Ran’er hated more than taking a bath.

“Ao Ran!”

“Nooooooo!”

A shrill chorus of delighted giggles echoed through the mansion as a very naked four-year-old tore down the hallway on tiny bare feet, red hair bouncing wildly with every step. His golden eyes sparkled with pure mischief, and every few strides a pair of fluffy reddish-brown ears would pop into existence atop his head, twitching excitedly before disappearing again as his unstable little magic flared.

You hurried after him with a towel in hand, already winded. “Ao Ran.”

The little menace only squealed louder and ran faster.

“Don’t make me get your father!”

“I fast!” Ran’er shouted over his shoulder, pumping his tiny legs even harder as if proving his point. “Baba can’t catch me!”

Unfortunately for him, he was far too busy looking behind him to notice Valko climbing the stairs. By the time he looked up, he’d already run straight into his father’s path. With effortless timing, Valko simply leaned forward and scooped him clean off the floor around the middle as he dashed past. Ran’er burst into helpless screams and giggles, little legs pedaling furiously through the air while his fluffy reddish-brown ears popped back into existence in surprise.

“Baba!” he squealed, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “Put me down! Put me doooooown!”

“Nope,” Valko replied, effortlessly shifting the naked, squirming little boy onto his hip.“You’ve given your mother enough trouble tonight. Bath.”

“But I don’t stiiiink!”

“Hmmm,” Valko tilted his head, taking an exaggerated sniff at the side of his son’s neck, then another beneath one tiny arm, completely unfazed by the sudden explosion of squeals and frantic wriggling. “You stink.”

Ran’er gasped in outrage and started wiggling even harder. “I do not! I don’t smell!!”

“Very sour,” Valko concluded, still sniffing him playfully as he carried him down the hall toward the bathroom. “Smells like sweat... mud... dirty socks...” He wrinkled his nose dramatically. “Ewww.”

“Nooooooo!” Ran’er shrieked through uncontrollable laughter, shoving at his father’s face with both tiny hands while his legs kicked helplessly through the air. “Baba, stop sniffing meeeeee! Mama, tell him I smell good!”

“Good?” you echoed, pretending to think it over. You leaned in for your own exaggerated sniff before recoiling dramatically. “Aiyo~”

Ran’er’s eyes widened.

“You smell even worse than Baba said. Like a little wolf who marinated himself in vinegar!”

“Mamaaaaa!”

The next twenty minutes disappeared into the familiar chaos that was bath time with a four-year-old. Ran’er spent the first several minutes convinced the shampoo was going to get into his eyes despite years of evidence proving otherwise, squeezing them shut so tightly his entire face scrunched up before you’d even reached for the bottle. Every time you tried to rinse his hair, he’d whine, “My eyes!” while Valko patiently tilted his little chin back and assured him—for what felt like the thousandth time—that the water wasn’t anywhere near them. The moment the shampoo was gone, however, all fear vanished. He immediately began splashing with both hands, giggling as water sloshed over the sides of the enormous tub and soaked your sleeves, your pajama pants, and eventually Valko’s shirt as well. By the time the three of you finally emerged from the bathroom, Ran’er smelled pleasantly of milky soap instead of mud, while you and Valko looked as though you’d been the ones who’d taken the bath.

Dressing him afterward proved to be its own challenge. Ran’er seemed physically incapable of standing still long enough for either of you to get his pajamas on properly, twisting away whenever you tried to rub lotion into his arms or dust a little powder over his neck. More than once he wandered off with only one sleeve on, giggling as Valko quietly caught him and steered him back. It usually took the better part of ten minutes before your tiny gremlin was finally clean, dry, and fully dressed. By then, the excitement had begun to wear off. His little tail slowed to an absent-minded swish as he climbed between you and Valko on the bed, accepting his warm glass of milk with both hands while his favorite cartoon played softly on the television. Every now and then he’d pause mid-sip to ask an impossibly important question about whatever was happening on the screen, waiting with complete seriousness for one of you to explain it before happily settling back against the pillows. The room stayed comfortably cool beneath the hum of the air conditioner, the lights dimmed low enough that, before long, his blinks grew slower and slower. By the time his glass was empty, the little whirlwind who had spent the evening racing through the mansion had become all heavy eyelids and sleepy yawns. He no longer protested when you coaxed him into brushing his teeth, nor did he argue when Valko tucked the blankets around him afterward. Instead, he simply crawled into the familiar space between the two of you, accepted a goodnight kiss from Mama, another from Baba, mumbled a drowsy, “Love you, Mama… Love you, Baba…” and, within minutes, was sound asleep, his little fluffy tail giving one last lazy swish beneath the blankets before finally growing still.

The quiet that settled over the house afterward was always your favorite part of the day. For the first time since sunrise, there were no tiny footsteps racing through the halls, no endless stream of questions, no dramatic protests about vegetables or bath time. Just the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the slow, steady rhythm of Ran’er’s breathing. As exhausting as Ao Ran could be while he was awake, he was impossibly sweet once sleep finally claimed him. His lashes rested against round cheeks still faintly pink from his bath, his lips parted ever so slightly, and every now and then his fluffy reddish-brown tail would give one absent little twitch beneath the blankets as though he were chasing something in a dream. Looking at him now, it was almost impossible to believe this peaceful little boy was the very same whirlwind who had spent the evening sprinting naked through the mansion.

As much as you loved ending each day like this, sleeping with your son came with one very unfortunate drawback. Wolves, as it turned out, were extraordinarily affectionate creatures. Personal space simply didn’t exist in their vocabulary. Ran’er had inherited that trait wholeheartedly. Since the day he’d been born, he had insisted on sleeping tucked securely between the two of you every single night. That meant wedging himself squarely between you and Valko, one tiny arm wrapped around your waist while both feet somehow ended up draped across his father. If either of you so much as shifted too far away in your sleep, the little pup would instinctively scoot after you without ever waking, determined to keep both his favorite people within arm’s reach.

It was adorable. It was also the reason you and Valko rarely had more than a few quiet moments to yourselves before bedtime. Once Ran’er fell asleep, he stayed exactly where he wanted the two of you to be—right beside him. The slightest shift was usually enough to earn a sleepy little whine, a searching hand, or an instinctive scoot closer without ever opening his eyes. It was difficult to complain, though. He’d only be this little for so long, and someday the tiny boy who refused to sleep unless both Mama and Baba were within arm’s reach would probably decide he was far too grown-up for bedtime cuddles. Neither of you was in any hurry for that day to come.

It was especially unfortunate considering your husband was, by all accounts, a devastatingly handsome alpha werewolf. Valko was the kind of man who seemed unfairly built to ruin your self-control on a daily basis. There were so many moments throughout the day when you had to physically stop yourself from jumping him.

Like when he worked out in the home gym in the morning. The low clanging of heavy iron and his deep, rumbling grunts filled the air as he pushed his body hard, sweat glistening across every inch of his powerful frame. His broad shoulders and thickly muscled back flexed and rippled with every controlled rep, veins standing out prominently along his massive arms. The thin tank top he wore was completely soaked through, dark and plastered obscenely to his chest, outlining every ridge of his sculpted abs and the hard planes of his pecs in a way that made your core throb with need.

You’d linger in the doorway for far too long, biting your lip hard, thighs pressed tightly together as you watched him. He was so big, so overwhelmingly masculine, radiating raw primal power that made you weak. More than once you imagined walking straight up to him, climbing that sweat-slick body like a tree, wrapping your legs around his waist while he pinned you against the mirrored wall and took you right there. Eventually he’d sense you and set the weights down with a heavy thud. A slow, smug smirk would curve his lips as he turned to face you, chest still heaving, eyes sparkling with knowing amusement. The second you stepped closer, rising onto your tiptoes to gently wipe the sweat from his brow with a towel, his strong arms would wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his hot, damp body. He’d lean down, brushing his nose against yours teasingly as he murmured, “Like what you see, laopo?”

Or when he was sitting in his home office, focused and serious, wearing those damn reading glasses. He leaned back in his chair with one hand absently rubbing his jaw while he scrolled through reports or tinkered with some complex project. Even in casual home clothes—a knitted red sweater and gray sweatpants that did nothing to hide how well-endowed he was—he looked devastatingly delectable. The glasses perched on his nose gave him that perfect mix of intellectual and dangerously attractive, especially when he’d glance up at you over the rim with those golden eyes. You’d suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to crawl into his lap and beg him to put another pup in you right there on his desk. The quiet authority in his voice when he explained something complicated only made it worse. You wanted to straddle his thick thighs, push those glasses up into his hair, and ride him until the only thing he could focus on was you.

Or when he came home from the office still dressed in one of his tailored suits. The moment he stepped through the door, all broad shoulders and commanding presence, you wanted to jump him. You wanted to wrap your legs around his waist, fist your hands in his perfectly styled hair, and kiss him until he forgot every meeting and boardroom decision of the day.

Or when he was yapping excitedly to you about his latest nerdy interests while wearing those nerdy black-rimmed glasses. The way his deep voice would rumble with genuine passion, combined with the cute way the glasses sat on his strong nose—softening the lethal edge of his alpha features just enough to make him look irresistibly intellectual and fuckable at the same time—made it impossible to resist. You wouldn’t be able to help yourself. You’d lean in, cup his face, and dive straight for a kiss, cutting off his sentence mid-explanation.

Valko would respond immediately, one large hand sliding to the back of your neck as he kissed you back with that slow, hungry intensity that always made your toes curl. For a few blissful seconds, the world would narrow down to the heat of his mouth and the low, pleased growl vibrating in his chest.

It was really unfortunate, then, that Ao Ran would choose exactly that moment to come toddling into the room.

The moment the little boy saw his parents kissing, he would let out a dramatic gasp and break into a full-speed run. “Nooo!” he would cry, wedging his small body forcefully between the two of you. His tiny hands would push at Valko’s chest with all the strength his little arms could muster.

“Mama mine!” Ran’er would declare possessively, trying to shove his father away. “No kissing!”

Valko would pull back just enough to look down at your jealous little pup, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. “No, Mama is mine.”

Instead of stopping, he would lean around Ran’er and press another lingering kiss to your lips, then one to your cheek, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting.

That only made things worse.

“No! No no no!” Ran’er would shout, pushing harder at his father’s face. When Valko playfully dodged and managed to steal one more kiss from you, the little wolf’s lower lip would jut out dramatically. His golden eyes would well up with fat tears as his face crumpled.

“Baba’s stealing Mama!” he would wail, voice cracking with genuine upset now. Big crocodile tears would roll down his flushed cheeks as he clung to you, burying his face in your chest. “No fair… Mama is mine too…”

It was moments like these that reminded you just how unfortunate the situation could get.

And today was proving to be particularly unfortunate.

You could already feel the shift in him the moment you woke up. Somehow, during the night, Valko had migrated to your side of the bed, slipping behind your back instead of staying on the far side of Ran’er. His large, warm body was now spooned tightly against yours, one heavy arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, nose brushing along your skin as he inhaled deeply, breathing you in. Every few seconds he dropped slow, open-mouthed kisses against your throat and shoulder, lazy and heated, while his hips pressed forward just enough for you to feel the unmistakable evidence of his early rut.

“Morning,” he murmured against your skin, voice still rough with sleep and something much darker. The low rumble in his chest vibrated through your back as his hand slowly slid under the hem of your shirt, palm hot against your stomach.

You let out a soft, shaky breath, trying not to wake the small boy curled up in front of you. Ran’er was still fast asleep, face tucked against your chest, one tiny hand fisted in your shirt and his little legs tangled with yours.

“Valko…” you whispered, half warning, half pleading. “He’s right here.”

“I know,” he replied, voice low and husky. He nipped gently at the sensitive spot beneath your ear, then soothed it with another slow kiss. “I’m being very quiet.” His hand continued its lazy exploration, fingertips tracing patterns on your belly as his nose rubbed affectionately against the back of your neck. “Can’t help it. You smell too good in the morning.”

You bit your lip to hold back a soft sound as he rolled his hips against you again, slow and deliberate. The heat rolling off him was intense, his usual calm control fraying at the edges the way it always did when his rut started creeping in. Even with your son sleeping peacefully half on top of you, Valko couldn’t seem to stop touching you. His tail had manifested at some point during the night and was now curled possessively around your thigh beneath the blankets.

“Later,” you whispered, though your body was already leaning back into his warmth.

Valko let out a quiet, frustrated growl against your neck, but it was fond. “Later,” he agreed, pressing one last lingering, open-mouthed kiss just below your jaw before forcing himself to still. His arm tightened around you, holding you securely against his chest as he buried his face in your hair.

You stayed like that for a long while, eyes closed, simply enjoying the quiet. Outside, gentle rain pattered steadily against the windows, a soft, soothing rhythm that made the whole mansion feel even cozier. The room was dim and warm, wrapped in that peaceful gray light that only rainy mornings bring. Ran’er was still fast asleep in your arms, his small body curled against your chest, one tiny hand fisted in your shirt, his cheeks looked adorably squished against you. Valko remained spooned tightly behind you, his large frame radiating heat, nose buried in the crook of your neck as he breathed you in slowly.

Every now and then his hand would drift lazily under your shirt, palm warm against your stomach, thumb stroking slow, absent circles. He wasn’t pushing—just touching, grounding himself in your scent and closeness. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his rut was simmering just beneath the surface, but for now he kept it leashed. Barely.

The quiet was broken only by the rain and Ran’er’s soft, even breathing.

Eventually, the little boy began to stir. He let out a tiny, sleepy whine, rubbing his face against your chest before tilting his head back. A little pout tugged at his lips. His golden eyes were still heavy with sleep, hair adorably messy, and one fluffy copper ear twitched lazily.

“Mama…” he mumbled, voice soft and raspy.

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Good morning, baobao.”

Ran’er responded with a sleepy little kiss of his own—right on your chin—before turning to face his father, frowning sleepily when he found only empty space.

“...Where’s Baba?”

He pushed himself up onto his elbows and peeked over you. The moment he spotted Valko behind you, he clambered over your body without another thought, tiny knees digging into the mattress—and, unfortunately, into you.

“Ow—baby, careful,” you laughed as one tiny knee landed squarely on your ribs.

“Ran’er,” Valko rumbled, already reaching out to steady him. “Watch your knees.”

“Sorry, Mama,” the little boy mumbled automatically, though he was already far more focused on reaching his destination.

You scooted over to make room, and the moment there was enough space, Ran’er happily wedged himself between the two of you. Leaning forward, he planted an equally sloppy, affectionate kiss on Valko’s jaw.

“Baba…”

Valko’s golden eyes are warm despite the faint glow of his rut. He hummed softly and wrapped one big arm around both of you, pulling you and Ran’er closer. “Hm, morning, pup.”

For a few minutes, the three of you simply cuddled in the warm bed, exchanging lazy kisses and gentle hugs while the rain continued falling outside. Ran’er was unusually quiet and clingy this morning, content to burrow between his parents and soak up the affection.

Eventually, Valko pressed one last kiss to the top of Ran’er’s head and murmured, “Time to brush our teeth, little wolf.”

Ran’er let out a dramatic sigh but didn’t argue. He lifted his arms toward his father with a hopeful look. “Carry?”

Valko chuckled, the sound low and fond. “You’re already a big boy.” Despite his words, he bent down and lifted the sleepy pup into his arms anyway. Ran’er’s little legs immediately wrapped around his father’s waist as he tucked his head against Valko’s broad shoulder with a contented sigh. You followed them to the bathroom, where the three of you brushed your teeth together—Ran’er still half-asleep in Valko’s hold, occasionally leaning over to “help” you with his own toothbrush.

Afterward, you all made your way to the living room. The rain was still falling steadily, making the perfect excuse for a lazy Sunday. Valko settled Ran’er on the couch with a soft blanket, turning on his favorite cartoons at a low volume. The little boy immediately curled up, still looking adorably sleepy, ears twitching every time something exciting happened on screen.

While you and Valko moved to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, Valko stayed close—closer than usual. His hand kept brushing your lower back or waist as you moved around each other. When you reached up to grab something from a higher shelf, he stepped behind you, pressing his chest against your back as he got it for you. His nose brushed the top of your head for a moment longer than necessary, inhaling deeply.

“You smell so good in the morning,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. His hand lingered on your hip, squeezing once before he forced himself to step back.

You glanced at him. His eyes were darker than usual, the rut clearly making him restless. Even so, he stayed gentle—helping you crack eggs, slicing fruit, and warming a glass of milk for Ran’er.

When breakfast was almost ready, Valko carried the warm glass of milk over to the couch. Ran’er looked up with a sleepy smile as his father handed it to him.

“Thank you, Baba…”

Valko ruffled his hair gently, golden eyes soft. “Drink slowly, okay?”

He remained beside the couch for a moment, quietly watching Ran’er sip his milk while the cartoons played. Only after he was satisfied did he return to the kitchen to help you plate breakfast. Throughout it all, he seemed unable to stop himself from reaching for you—a brush of his hand against yours as he passed you a plate, his hand on your arm as he stepped behind you, or the solid warmth of his hip lightly pressing against yours whenever he paused at your back. The tension in his shoulders was unmistakable, yet every touch remained soft, as though his instincts simply needed the reassurance that you were there.

Once everything was ready, the three of you settled around the dining table with steaming plates of breakfast, the soft patter of rain filling the comfortable silences between conversations.

Breakfast itself was surprisingly uneventful. Ran'er, still in a sleepy Sunday mood, actually sat at the table and ate without too much distraction. He finished his scrambled eggs, beef noodles, and fruit faster than usual, his cheeks puffing out adorably as he chewed, occasionally glancing toward the television in the living room.

The three of you lingered at the table long after breakfast was over. Outside, the rain continued its gentle rhythm against the windows while Valko carried the dishes to the sink and you wiped down the table. Ran’er wandered between the dining room and the living room, humming quietly to himself as cartoons continued playing in the background.

It wasn’t until the last plate had been washed and put away that his eyes suddenly widened.

“Oh!”

Without another word, he spun on his heel and padded upstairs toward his bedroom, his little slippers pattering softly against the wooden floor.

You and Valko exchanged a curious glance.

A minute later, the little boy reappeared, dragging his tiny school bag behind him as though it weighed a hundred pounds.

“Mama! Baba! I have a project!" he announced proudly, pulling out a sheet of bright red paper and a pair of blunt safety scissors. “Teacher said we have to do traditional paper cutting. For the culture festival!”

“A project?”

Ran’er nodded enthusiastically. “Mhm!”

“Aiya, baobao, why didn’t you tell us about it yesterday?”

He blinked back at you before giving the most straightforward answer imaginable. “I forgot.”

“...It’s due tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Ran’er nodded again. “Tomorrow.”

You let out a small laugh, equal parts fond and exasperated. “Well... I suppose we’d better get started.”

The three of you settled onto the large rug in the living room, spreading the colored paper, scissors, and glue across the coffee table. Valko picked up the remote and searched for a beginner’s tutorial on traditional Chinese paper cutting. Soon, soft instrumental music and a calm, reassuring voice filled the room as the instructor carefully demonstrated each fold and cut.

Ran’er sat cross-legged on the floor between the two of you. He clutched the bright red safety scissors with both hands, brows furrowed in fierce concentration as he stared at the crafting tutorial playing on the screen. Every few seconds he gave a solemn little nod, as though he were committing every instruction to memory.

You watched him lean forward slightly, tongue poking out between his lips in that focused way only children managed. The soft snip-snip-snip of his scissors filled the space as he carefully followed the faint pencil lines on the folded paper. A few inches to your right, Valko mirrored the same careful posture—his much larger frame somehow managing to look surprisingly gentle with the delicate task. His thigh pressed warmly against yours, solid and steady, but you could feel the tension thrumming beneath his skin.

The rut was still there, just beneath the surface. Every so often his shoulders would tighten, or he’d lean in a fraction closer when Ran’er was particularly absorbed in his cutting. You felt the slow drag of his inhale against the side of your neck—deep, deliberate, almost hungry—before he forced himself to pull back again. The restraint was palpable.

“Like this, Baba?” Ran’er asked suddenly, lifting his creation with both hands. The paper snowflake was a little lopsided, edges uneven and one point longer than the others, but his eyes shone with pure pride.

Valko’s expression softened instantly. His voice came out low and a little rough around the edges, that familiar gravel deepened by the rut he was still riding. “Very good, little wolf,” he murmured, reaching over to gently adjust the paper in Ran’er’s hands. “Just like that.”

Ran’er beamed. “I did it!”

“You did.”

He proudly held up another finished paper cutout for inspection. “This one is fish!”

“And this one's beautiful,” you said, smiling as you accepted it. “Should we make another one?”

“Mhm!”

The morning slipped quietly into afternoon, the steady rain continuing to patter against the windows. Before long, the coffee table had disappeared beneath a colorful collection of paper cutouts—a star, a snowflake, a fish, an apple, a crow, and, naturally, a wolf that looked suspiciously like a dog, though Ran’er insisted it was “Baba.”

The floor wasn’t much better. Tiny scraps of red paper were scattered across the rug like confetti despite your best efforts to keep everything tidy. Eventually, however, Ran’er’s enthusiasm began to fade. The little boy rubbed at one eye with the back of his hand. Then yawned.

A few minutes later, his safety scissors lowered into his lap. His blinking became noticeably slower.

“Someone’s getting sleepy.”

“I’m not,” Ran’er mumbled around another enormous yawn.

“Oh?”

“No.” Another yawn interrupted him. “I’m awake.”

You laughed softly before reaching over to smooth his messy hair. “I think this little wolf deserves a nap.”

“Nooooo…” His protest lacked all conviction.

You slipped your arms beneath him and lifted him onto your lap with a dramatic little grunt. “Aiya... when did my baby get so heavy?”

“I’m big now,” Ran’er informed you proudly.

“You certainly are.”

You kissed his forehead before passing him into Valko’s waiting arms. The little boy settled there without the slightest complaint, wrapping both arms around his father’s neck while resting his cheek against his shoulder.

You followed the two of them upstairs, the soft patter of rain accompanying your footsteps. By the time you reached his bedroom, Ran’er was already drifting, his head lolling heavily against Valko’s shoulder.

The three of you climbed into Ran’er’s bed together, your little boy nestled safely between you. You stroked his hair while Valko rubbed slow circles on his back. Within minutes, Ran’er’s breathing evened out, his fluffy ears relaxed, and his tail gave one last lazy swish before going still.

Careful not to wake him, Valko slowly withdrew his hand and shifted onto the other side beside you. The two of you lingered there for a long while, watching your little boy sleep beneath the soft gray light filtering through the curtains. His small chest rose and fell in slow, peaceful breaths, completely unaware of the growing storm quietly brewing beside you.

You could feel the shift in Valko. His rut was deepening, flaring hotter with every passing minute. Heat rolled off his body in heavy waves, thick and intoxicating. His scent—rich, dark, and unmistakably alpha—grew stronger, wrapping around you, sinking into your lungs and making your own pulse quicken in response. Your body was already reacting, a warm flush spreading low in your belly.

His hand never left your waist. His fingers flexed restlessly against you, tightening and loosening in a rhythm that betrayed how thin his control had worn. Each subtle shift of his grip sent little sparks across your skin.

When you were certain Ran’er was deeply asleep, you finally turned your head to look at Valko. His golden eyes were glowing faintly in the dim room, locked onto yours with an intensity that stole your breath.

He didn’t need words.

The two of you moved carefully, slipping from the bed with practiced quiet. You both glanced back at your son one last time before easing the door shut behind you. The soft click of the latch felt deafening in the sudden privacy of the hallway.

The moment the door closed, Valko’s restraint shattered.

He spun you around with a low growl and pressed you up against the wall. His mouth crashed down on yours—hot, urgent, and starving. One large hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he tilted your head exactly how he wanted. His other hand gripped your hip hard, pulling your body flush against his, letting you feel every inch of his need.

“Bedroom,” he growled against your lips, voice low and strained. “Now.”

You barely had time to nod before he scooped you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you down the hallway with long, urgent strides, kicking your bedroom door open and slamming it shut behind him.

The moment the door shut, he was on you again.

Valko pressed your back against the wooden door with a heavy thud, his massive body pinning you there as he devoured your mouth in a filthy, desperate kiss. His tongue pushed deep, claiming every inch like he was starving for you. A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, vibrating straight into your mouth as he rolled his hips forward and ground his thick, aching cock against your core.

You could feel how hard he was—his heavy bulge throbbing and straining against his gray sweatpants, so swollen and hot it made your pussy clench with need. He rocked against you in slow, filthy grinds, dragging that fat ridge right over your clit through the thin layers of fabric, teasing you mercilessly.

“Missed this…” he rasped between messy, spit-slick kisses, voice rough and strained. “Missed you. Fuck, I missed you so much.”

His big hands gripped your waist hard enough to bruise as he humped against you like he was already fucking you, rough and deliberate, letting you feel every thick inch of his rut-swollen cock. Your slick was already soaking through your shorts, the wet heat of it making the friction even more obscene. You moaned loudly into his mouth, fingers yanking at his hair as your hips jerked forward to meet his thrusts.

Valko tore his mouth away with a wet sound only to trail his lips down your neck, sucking hard enough to leave angry red marks. His tongue dragged over your skin, hot and greedy, before he bit down lightly on that sensitive spot just below your ear. Your head fell back against the door with a broken moan.

“Ahhn~”

He growled against your throat, hips snapping harder against you, grinding his fat cock right where you needed it most. “That’s it… let me hear you,” he rasped, voice dripping with lust. “Been dying to rut this tight little pussy again.”

With a low grunt, Valko shifted you higher up the door like you weighed nothing, his powerful arms supporting you effortlessly. His mouth moved lower, hot and greedy, kissing and biting down your collarbone until he reached your chest.

You weren’t wearing a bra.

His golden eyes darkened with raw hunger the second he saw your stiff nipples poking shamelessly against the thin fabric of your shirt. A hungry sound tore from his throat as he leaned in and mouthed at one breast through the cloth, soaking the material with his spit. Then he latched on hard, sucking your nipple into his mouth with wet, obscene noises while his tongue swirled and flicked over the sensitive peak.

Your back arched sharply off the door, a loud, broken moan spilling from your lips. “Ahhn—! Laogong…!”

Valko groaned deeply against your tit, the vibration shooting straight to your aching pussy as he sucked even harder, turning the fabric nearly transparent with his saliva. One of his big hands shoved under your shirt, roughly palming your other breast, squeezing the soft flesh before he caught your nipple between his fingers. He pinched and rolled it, tugging just hard enough to make your cunt throb. All the while, his hips never stopped—slow, heavy grinds of his massive bulge against your dripping pussy, teasing you with the promise of being split open and bred full.

Suddenly he pulled back, his mouth releasing your nipple with a loud, wet pop. A thin string of saliva stretched between his lips and your swollen, glistening peak before it finally snapped. Your nipple throbbed in the cool air, flushed dark and painfully stiff, still tingling from the relentless sucking and biting.

You barely had time to drag in a shaky breath before his hands slid down your body. With almost no effort he lifted you off the door, strong arms hooking under your thighs as he carried you across the room. Your legs instinctively tightened around his waist, but he didn’t let you stay there. He dropped you onto the bed on your back, and before you could even adjust your position, Valko was on you.

His big hands seized the soft flesh of your inner thighs and shoved them apart your knees nearly kissed the sheets on either side of you. The thin, soaked fabric of your shorts stretched obscenely across your pussy, molding to every swollen fold like a second skin. The material had ridden up between your lips, outlining the puffy shape of your cunt in explicit detail. A dark, wet patch bloomed right over your slit, the cotton clinging and translucent enough that he could see the flushed, glistening pink of your inner folds peeking through.

Valko’s breathing grew ragged as he stared down at the shameless display. His thumbs pressed into the soft crease where your thighs met your groin, stroking lazy circles against your overheated skin while his eyes devoured you.

“Fuck…” he rasped, voice thick and hoarse. “You’re not even wearing panties, are you?”

He leaned in closer, hot breath fanning over your spread cunt. The scent of your arousal was thick in the air — sweet and musky. His thumbs slid higher, pulling the drenched fabric even tighter against you until it wedged between your slick lips, rubbing right over your swollen clit.

“Look at this pretty little pussy,” he groaned, almost reverent. “So fucking wet it’s dripping through your shorts. I can see everything… how puffy and sloppy you are for me.”

One thick thumb dragged slowly up the center of your covered slit, pressing the soaked material against your entrance, teasing the give of your hole without pushing inside. Your hips twitched helplessly, a fresh gush of slick soaking the fabric even more.

“So messy already,” he murmured, voice dropping lower, filthier. “Bet I could peel these shorts off and your cunt would be drooling all over the sheets.”

He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed with a heavy thud. Strong hands gripped your hips and yanked you roughly toward him until your ass was nearly hanging off the mattress, your soaked cunt presented right in front of his face like an offering.

Valko leaned in slowly, deliberately, and pressed his nose flush against the drenched fabric stretched over your pussy. He inhaled deeply like he was trying to pull your scent straight into his lungs.

A low, guttural groan tore out of him, vibrating against your core.

“Fuck… you smell so fucking good,” he growled, voice thick and wrecked. “Missed this sweet little pussy. Missed how fucking wet you get for me.”

He rubbed his nose up and down your covered slit, smearing your slick across his face, breathing you in like a man starved. Then his tongue came out — hot, wide, and flat — and dragged a long, torturously slow stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. The thin fabric of your shorts clung obscenely to his tongue as he pressed it deep between your swollen folds, forcing the soaked material to mold even tighter against every sensitive inch of you.

He moaned loudly into your cunt, the sound filthy and desperate, as he tasted you through the fabric. Then he latched on, sucking hard on the drenched cotton right over your slit, pulling it into his mouth like he could drink you straight through it. The obscene, wet sucking noises filled the room as he worked his tongue against your hole, pushing insistently, trying to fuck the thin barrier inside you.

Your back arched sharply off the bed, a broken cry ripping from your throat.

“Ahhn—! Valko—!”

He growled in response, the vibration shooting straight through your clit. His grip on your thighs tightened, spreading you even wider as he buried his face deeper, eating you like a man possessed. He licked and sucked messily, tongue working the soaked fabric rhythmically between your puffy lips, pushing it into the entrance of your cunt again and again. Every time a fresh gush of your slick leaked out, he was right there—lapping it up greedily, moaning like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

The room was filled with the lewd, sloppy sounds of him devouring you through your shorts: loud, wet sucks, the filthy squelch of fabric being worked between your folds, and his constant hungry groans. His nose kept rubbing firm circles over your swollen clit while his tongue kept trying to breach you, the barrier of your shorts only making everything more frustratingly intense.

You were leaking all over his face, the fabric completely ruined, and still he kept going—deeper, filthier—like he wanted to drown in you.

“Valko—ahhn—! Please…” you whimpered, voice cracking with desperation. Your fingers twisted tighter into his hair, tugging hard as your hips rolled helplessly against his greedy mouth, chasing the maddening pressure of his tongue through the soaked fabric.

He let out a deep, animalistic growl against your cunt before suddenly surging up from between your thighs. In one powerful motion he climbed over you, caging you in with his bigger body. His mouth crashed into yours in a filthy, desperate kiss—all tongue and teeth and hunger. You could taste yourself on him, sweet and tangy, the evidence of how shamelessly you’d soaked his face smeared across his lips and chin. He licked into your mouth like he couldn’t get enough, devouring every little whimper you gave him.

One of his hands stayed locked on your thigh, gripping hard enough to bruise as he kept you spread obscenely wide beneath him. His cock was rock-hard and throbbing against your soaked pussy, the thick length sliding through your slick folds as he ground down, teasing you with what you both needed so badly.

“Need you,” he panted hotly into your mouth between messy kisses, voice completely wrecked. “Need to be inside you so fucking bad, baby. Can’t wait any longer.”

Your hands moved frantically between your bodies, trembling as you shoved at the waistband of your ruined shorts. Valko helped, roughly yanking them down your thighs while you desperately tugged at his pants, fingers fumbling with the waistband. Neither of you wanted to stop kissing—it stayed sloppy, wet, and needy, full of shared breaths, desperate moans, and growls as fabric finally started sliding down skin.

You kicked your shorts off one leg, then the other, while he shoved his pants and underwear down just enough for his heavy cock to spring free. The thick, flushed head slapped wetly against your stomach before he pulled back and dragged it down through your slick, swollen folds, coating himself in your arousal.

The last barriers hit the floor with a careless thud, leaving you both completely bare. His burning skin pressed against yours, cock throbbing and leaking precum right against your entrance as he hovered over you, breathing hard.

Valko’s hands gripped the backs of your thighs and shoved them upward, folding you in half beneath him in a deep breeding press. Your knees nearly touched your chest, your soaked cunt completely exposed and tilted up for him.

The thick, heavy head of his cock dragged slowly through your slick folds, spreading your pussy open with every teasing pass. He coated every inch of his massive length in your dripping arousal, the fat tip nudging against your swollen clit before sliding back down to kiss your twitching hole.

“Gonna fill you up, baby,” he growled against your lips, voice low and shaking with barely-held restraint. “Gonna breed this tight little pussy until it takes every drop. You want that, laopo?” His hips rolled, pressing just the head against your entrance, stretching you open. “Want me to pump you full and put another pup in you?”

You whimpered pathetically, nodding frantically as your walls clenched greedily around nothing. “Yes, please, Valko—ahhnn—I want it—”

He pushed forward with a deep groan, the fat head of his cock finally starting to split you open, stretching your slick walls around his girth—

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Tiny feet pattered rapidly down the hallway.

Then came the soft, heartbreaking sound of crying, followed by frantic little fists banging on the bedroom door.

“Mama…! Baba…!” Ran’er’s voice cracked with tears, small and scared. “I woke up… I can’t find you…! Mamaaa—”

The desperate cries and banging cut through the room like ice water.

Valko froze instantly, buried barely an inch inside you, his cock throbbing angrily against your walls. His forehead dropped to yours with a tortured groan, body shaking with frustration and restraint.

“Fuck…” he whispered, voice hoarse and wrecked. “Not now…”

Your own heart twisted painfully at the sound of your pup crying. You stared up at Valko, chest heaving, pussy still fluttering desperately around the thick head of his cock.

For one agonizing second, neither of you moved.

Then reality hit.

You gently pushed at Valko’s chest. He let out a low, frustrated groan but pulled back immediately, helping you sit up. You frantically grabbed a towel from the bedside drawer and wiped yourself clean as fast as you could, your hands still shaking.

“Wait, baby! Mama’s coming!” you called out, voice laced with worry as you quickly pulled your clothes back on.

Valko did the same, adjusting himself with a pained hiss before you both rushed to the door.

The second you opened it, Ran’er threw himself into your arms, sobbing. You scooped him up immediately, holding his small body close against your chest.

“Shh, shh, Mama’s here,” you soothed, rubbing his back. But the moment your skin touched his, worry shot through you like ice. His little body felt warmer than it should—slightly hot to the touch.

You looked up at Valko with wide, concerned eyes.

Valko’s expression changed instantly. The haze clouding his golden eyes disappeared as though someone had flipped a switch. Every trace of the restless desire that had consumed him moments before was gone, replaced by sharp worry.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping closer.

“He’s warm,” you said quietly, pressing the back of your hand to Ran’er’s forehead. “Too warm.”

Valko reached out and gently touched his son’s forehead, then his cheek. His brows drew together. “You’re right.” He exhaled heavily. “He was quieter than usual this morning. I should’ve known something was off when he didn’t have his usual energy.”

Ran’er whimpered and burrowed deeper into your neck, his fluffy ears drooping sadly. “Mama… head hurts…”

The rest of the day blurred into one long stretch of caring for your feverish little wolf.

You and Valko moved like a well-oiled team. Valko carried Ran’er to your bed while you prepared medicine, cool towels, and warm porridge. The two of you took turns holding him, wiping his feverish skin, and whispering soothing words whenever he woke up crying. Valko’s rut was completely forgotten, buried under layers of worry and love for his son. He stayed right by your side the entire time, one arm around you, the other gently stroking Ran’er’s hair.

By late evening, the little boy had finally drifted into a deeper, more peaceful sleep between the two of you. His breathing had settled into a slow, steady rhythm, though his cheeks remained faintly flushed from the fever.

You let out a weary sigh and leaned your head against Valko’s shoulder. Outside, the rain still fell in a gentle, unbroken rhythm, tapping softly against the bedroom windows.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Ran’er shifted in his sleep with a tiny mumble, instinctively scooting closer until one little hand came to rest on your arm while his feet found Valko’s leg beneath the blankets.

A quiet chuckle escaped you. “He’s still holding on to us.”

Valko smiled, his gaze never leaving your son. He reached over to gently smooth a few stray strands of hair away from Ran’er’s forehead before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Yeah…” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “Life with a four-year-old is exhausting.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You can’t stay out late anymore.” His thumb absently stroked beneath Ran’er’s eyes, gently smoothing away the faint shadows of tears. “Fancy restaurants become fast-food places. Vacations revolve around nap schedules.” A fond smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Somehow every room ends up covered in toys… I can’t even spend time with my lovely wife.”

He paused, looking down at the little boy sleeping peacefully between the two of you.

“...And somehow,” he said softly, “I can’t imagine a life without this.”

His golden eyes met yours.

“I wouldn’t trade this for anything,” he murmured. “Would you?”

You looked down at the little boy sleeping peacefully between you, one tiny hand curled around your finger.

“No,” you whispered. “Not for the world.”