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.”
Valko’s tail does a full happy spin behind him as he tucks you closer again, perfectly content being your personal radiator.
“you've conquered the business trip a million times before, mr. chairman. why hate it now?”
“before, i didn’t have you.”
“oh?” smiling gently, you reach out to cup valko's cheek. he lies across from you on the mattress, trusting you’ll share the burden of his distress.
“in the first month after mating, wolves have a hard time being away from the one they’re fated to.” he gives a halfhearted chuckle. “i guess you could say i’m a little attached.”
“i’m a little attached to you, too.” you pinch his nose, and his eyes cross slightly when they focus on your fingers. he tries to lick them, but you dodge just in time. “nothing wrong with that.”
“except i lied just now,” he blurts nervously. if he expects a reaction from you, he doesn’t get it. you knew that already. “it’s more than a little. it’s a lot—a whole lot. and now, it feels like i’ll never see you again.” his voice is hoarse, strained, like this has been weighing on him for some time.
humming softly, you sit up on the bed, crossing one leg over the other. as you reach out to stroke his hair, gold eyes glisten up at you.
“i know this is new for us, and i know that it’s scary. but i like to think of it…as a way for the world to show us how close we really are.
“whenever we’re apart, look up at the sky. look at the stars and any clouds left behind. then, look at the moon. look at its peaks and its craters, and every beam it shines down on us. and know that whatever you see, i see it, too.”
as your words become images, flashing and fading in his mind, valko struggles to keep his eyes open. this is the last time he’ll see you like this for two weeks, after all, and he wants the memory etched there forever. but your voice has lulled him to sleep before, and he won't start resisting you now.
“think of how much you'll have to tell me when you get home,” you whisper. “‘when,’ not ‘if,’ valko. focus on that. let when drive you forward. let when bring you back to me.”
──────
it’s been six days since your eyes last met.
now, on the top floor of a hotel in a city whose name is buried below thoughts of you, valko looks at the moon.
he breathes one, two, three, four, just like you taught him before he boarded.
then, he closes his eyes.
he hears the low hum of the refrigerator, feels the friction of his suit jacket too tight against his skin. he smells the foreign air, crisp and clean, though missing something sedative.
when he next opens his eyes, the moon looks a little different. a little more like home.
in it, valko sees you.
your strength, your brilliance, your persistence and perseverance. your miraculous existence, like you're too good to be true.
if the moon is your essence, it’s your appearance, too. little by little, it reflects your face back to him: how it shines like your smile; how it has its own scars, like the ones fading on your skin. how it’s steady and calm, like your favorite expressions to show him.
all its facets combine to paint a picture of you in the sky—one he now knows he can take with him anywhere.
before, you'd told him that you see the same moon. but when you look up at the sky at night, who do you see? does your moon look like him, too?
do you see him in the stars, like he sees you?
the mere thought brings a welcome feeling to his chest, one he thought he'd be missing for a few days longer.
it’s warm, it’s weightless.
comfort.
valko never thought he’d feel comfort while being apart from you.
but for the first time since he arrived, he turns his back to the moon. he feels safe doing it, knowing you’re there to watch over him with that soft, encouraging smile.
and you, he hopes, see his face shining down at you, soothing you to a restful sleep.
valko pays for your claws nails so you'll scratch tf out of his back!
content: fem reader, scratching, blood from scratching, sex, piv, mating press, not proofread
wc: 860
a/n: there is no war in ba sing se. there is no valko cancellation. forget about him being nuked and read this.
your hands smooth over the muscular expanse of valko’s back, dull nails tracing the dips and curves. he shivers and pushes back into your fingers, purring slightly. he shuffles food around in the popping skillet, looking at you over his shoulder.
“i like your back.” you mumble and pepper kisses against it.
valko smirks and steps back, crowding you. “it’s looking a little bare, don’t you think?”
“mmm? looks fine to me.”
“it would look better than fine if someone marked it up.” he turns the skillet off and turns to face you, grabbing your hands and maneuvering them into a clawing gesture.
valko chuckles and ‘grrs’ for you, pretending like you’re some vicious predator.
you raise an eyebrow and look at your short nails. “won’t that hurt?”
he holds your nails in his palms and presses on the edge of them, feeling for the sharpness. “sweetheart, these wouldn’t even hurt a pup. you remember i’m a werewolf, riiight?” he smiles. “i’ve been scratched by newborns with longer claws.”
you hum and consider it. “well… even if i did want to scratch you, my nails would break before they got long enough.”
valko pats the tops of your hands and lets them go, going back to cooking. “i’ll pay for you to get acrylics. any shape, length, color you want- you could even get a design.”
“are you sure?” you ask skeptically. despite knowing that your boyfriend was rich rich, you still felt bad spending his money.
the very next day, you had long stiletto nails in a deep plum color.
valko was ecstatic when he saw them, but paused when he examined them further. you’d gotten his initials painted on your ring fingers- a suggestion from the nail artist. you’d been worried it was too much… what if valko didn’t like it?
…valko liked it. probably a little too much, considering how he was fucking you so deep into the memory foam mattress that you were sure your indentation would be there for years to come.
“nnghhhh!! ‘ko- shit!” you breathed out, gasping for air as his thick cock drilled against your cervix.
your nails pressed dully into his skin, not quite scratching or piercing the skin.
valko groaned and moved forward, pressing your knees fully beside your head into a deep mating press. “scratch me. dig your nails in- hmmmm.” he whined out.
you pressed down harder, raking your nails down the expanse of his back and raising the skin in red streaks.
“yes- fuck, perfect. harder, dig in harder, i know you’re strong. show me how strong you are.” valko’s breath hitched and he let out a pleased moan when you followed his instructions.
you whined and babbled incoherently about how good he felt, how deep he was in you while your nails left scratches on his back in every direction.
you mindlessly clawed at his skin, searching desperately for something to hold onto and he fucked you harder than you’d ever felt.
“s’ good.. such a good mate, so accommodating, scratching the shit out of me.” valko praises, voice gruff in your ear.
“mmhmmm.” you whine. he switches his angle ever so slightly, hitting upward and bullying the spot deep inside you that makes your vision white out.
you screech and dig your nails into his back hard, hard enough to make him groan and stutter.
“fuck! cumming- cu- shit, holy shit.” valko moans out, collapsing on top of you as he fills you the condom full of his thick cum.
you’re both in a hazy sort of bliss that only sex can give for a handful of minutes after. you’re only brought out of it when valko stands to go get a warm towel for you and your eyes meet his back- your canvas.
you gasp and sit up weakly. "valko!”
valko turns, on high alert and scanning the room. “what- what? fuck, don’t scare me like that-”
“your back is bleeding!” you interrupt, crawling towards him on shaky limbs.
valko pauses and reaches to touch his back, looking at his bloody fingers. “oh.”
“i’m so sorry- oh my god, i’m evil, i’m terrible!” you ramble, tears brimming your eyes.
when you look up at valko, he’s… smiling?! ear to ear, at that! “what the hell is the matter with you?! i injured you!” you yell, tossing a pillow at him in frustration.
valko smiles and walks to the edge of the bed, cradling your cheek with his clean hand. “you marked me up, just like every good mate should. here, take a picture for me.” he grabs his phone from the nightstand and hands it to you, turning around.
you open the camera and snap a picture, trying not to drool over it. you’d marked him up good- he had red streaks in all directions, blood trickling from most of them. weirdly, the sight made a new wetness form between your legs.
valko looked at the picture cleared his throat, a flush rising on his cheek. something else rose, right beside your face, thick and leaking pre again.
since that day, your nails were always done and valko’s back was always painted ruby red.
a/n: no one be sad!!!! everyone be happy!! valko lives on, i promiseeee yall everything will be okay. do you really think mama rhi would let anything happen to our valko? no!!
the solution was to move forward with Valko and stop at six, not give into some brats throwing temper tantrums over pixels
fuck all of you whiny crybabies who threw a fit over this and ruined things for others. get a fucking life if you were throwing fits over pixels, you miserable cunts 🖕
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