before sex, sokka stops everything with a quick “wait!” and you blink, confused and very horny, and when you look at him he has somehow in the span of three seconds put on his wolf helmet. fully. sitting there grinning at you like he’s the funniest person alive and then says, “this wolf wants to mount you!”
and you just stare at him.
you stare at him for a long time. the helmet. the grin. the complete and total lack of shame.
“sokka.”
“yes?”
“take that off.”
“…no.”
and the worst part—the truly humiliating part—is that you have unhinged nasty sex anyway. like it’s somehow better. you don’t know what that says about you and frankly you’re not going to think about it.
he’s so smug afterward, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of admitting it (he already knows, though; he can tell). he’s laying there with the helmet still slightly askew on his head looking like the most victorious man in the world and you’re just staring at the ceiling reconsidering your entire life.
he absolutely does it again the next time.
The Gaang was having a rare and much needed meetup; dinner in the Fire Nation on the Fire Lord's tab. There was good drink and good conversation in spades, everyone glad for the break and the company.
Toph got on the topic of her students, moaning about one in particular. "I mean, it makes no sense! She's one of the best metalbenders I've ever trained. Maybe even THE best, after me of course. Not only has she forced me to use my hands in a spar, she's actually made me sweat! A generational talent, and what does she want to do? Hole up in a workshop all day making jewelry."
Zuko perked up, eyes drawn to the shiny new golden bands wrapped snugly against Toph's biceps. "Did she make the cuffs you're wearing?" Aang asked, beating him to the punch.
Despite her apparent irritation with her protégé's choice of career, Toph immediately jumped on the opportunity to brag about your skill. "Yeah, aren't they amazing? Naturally, any student of mine worth a damn would be the best at anything they chose to do." She slid off one band, using her own bending to slowly rotate it above her palm for the group to marvel at. Zuko leaned in for a better look and was instantly speechless.
The detail was insane. What he had thought were simply decorative engravings from afar were actually intricate, lifelike carvings. The band was decorated with a chain of badgermoles, each chasing the one in front of it in an endless loop, so realistic they seemed to breathe as light and shadow played across the gold surface.
Sokka gave a low whistle. "Damn, she's good." Zuko almost felt irritated at the word choice. "Good" didn't even begin to describe it. He doubted that any of the pieces in his vast royal wardrobe, painstakingly crafted by the finest of Fire Nation artisans, could even hold a candle to the work of art in front of them.
"Does she take commissions?" He tried to come off casual but, if the wicked grin that grew on Toph's face was any indication, failed miserably.
"I don't know, princess, I'll have to ask her. She runs a little smithy in the Earth Kingdom with her folks and trains with me in her free time, but maybe she'll spare a request from the Fire Lord the time of day."
The group laughed good-naturedly at Toph's ribbing as Zuko tried to mask his reddening cheeks with his drink. Mercifully the topic changed quickly, Katara and Sokka getting into a heated debate on if the grilled cranefish on the table tasted more like arctic hen or salmon jerky, but Zuko found his mind still wandering back to you. By the time the night wound down and everyone prepared to go their separate ways for the evening (none of them ever took him up on his offer to host them in the palace, which, he figured, was understandable), Zuko had unconsciously began to daydream. Toph had generously told him your shop's address as she was leaving, and he turned it around constantly in his mind on the walk back to the imperial grounds. By the time he sat down to pen the message, his head was full of nothing but you.
What did you look like? Were you tall, short, average? Did you have Toph's muscled build or were you softer? Details like the sound of your voice, the shape of your hands, the color of your hair, all of them tumbled and tangled in Zuko's mind until they formed a faceless outline, vague and evershifting but with an alluring dreamlike quality.
The sound of a rogue drop of ink hitting the paper jerked Zuko from his reverie, and he groaned as he crumpled the ruined sheet and tossed it aside. How pathetic. Bewitched by...what, a fancy bangle? He was no better than a bird, getting distracted by shiny things. But as he thought back on your work, on the way the animals had genuinely seemed animated when Toph rotated the band, he picked up a fresh sheet of paper and began to write.
He received your response a week and a half after his letter went out. The container was cheap and the delivery bird was plain, and his attendants might have thrown it out had Zuko not told them to keep an eye out for missives from the Earth Kingdom. He sat alone in the council room, turning the wooden tube in his hands. Over the last week he'd more or less been able to get himself under control, but having your letter physically in front of him filled him with a sense of childish giddiness. A manicured nail broke the seal, and he fished out the leaf of paper inside.
Your handwriting was neat and blocky, and the faint scent of sword oil wafted to his nose. The letter began with an earnest apology for the lateness of your reply, citing that you'd initially thought his message to be a prank from someone until Toph had asked about it. You gushed about the honor of his attention, which made his stomach to a funny flip. You lamented that you wouldn't be able to come to the Fire Nation to fulfill his request, but if he sent a description of what he was looking for as well as the necessary measurements, you'd be overjoyed to make him something, free of charge.
The way you wrote was genuine and earnest, the rise and fall of your emotions laid bare on the page in a way Zuko found incredibly endearing. At the end, you mentioned the sample included with your letter and how you hoped it was to his liking; he could almost picture the bashful wobble of your smile. He immediately dropped the paper on the table and picked up your message container, noting the weight and faint clinking of the piece inside. Upending the little tube, he was greeted by the most gorgeous kanzashi pin he'd ever seen. A snake with glittering ruby eyes and scales rendered so well he could count each one wrapped around half the silver needle, the other half flat and pointed like a sword's blade. He was tempted to slide it into his hair that very second but refrained, instead slipping it and your letter back into the wooden envelope and setting it aside.
His mind was whirling with ideas for what to ask of you, each more elaborate than the last, but he finally settled on a relatively simple one. He wrote the request hastily (before his nerve could desert him), marked it with the imperial seal, and sent it off with enough money to pay for the commission and the sample pin twice over.
Two weeks later, the package from you arrived. This time Zuko opened it in his bedchambers, a reward after a long day of being Fire Lord. He marveled at the ring sat in the palm of his hand, above and beyond his specifications, but what really drew his attention was the second half of his order: a photograph of you.
It was grainy the way most photographs available to the working class were, but your beauty shone through regardless. You were both everything and nothing like he'd imagined. He stared at the image, burning the shapes and colors that made you up into his memory, and Zuko knew in that moment he was truly and utterly screwed.
ushiwaka coming back from his evening practice sweaty as fuck trust and believe i’m climbing up on his lap and dry humping his bulge while huffing his neck until i come. and just know he has a death grip on my hips helping me move once i lose steam
no but i think people tend to forget how articulate kita probably is with his hands. like he grew up cleaning and sanitizing with his grandmother. getting into every crevice, his hands wrapped in gloves, fingernails digging out every little spot. ignoring the wrinkling on his fingertips because he knows that that means he’s been working hard. AND he was a volleyball player. able to catch and return balls with a soft touch. his fingers slender and quick to keep up with the rest of his team. AND he’s a farmer!! for the smaller weeds, he prefers plucking them from the ground himself, digging his fingers in the dirt to pull out every veining root. probably covered in any sweet fruit that fell from their trees, rolling down his hands and dripping off his elbows.
zanka is such a perfect character to write about being more than a little perverted — sniffing your underwear and wrapping it over his cock before he cums. the shame does not defeat the pleasure he feels as he imagines coming inside of you
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
titsay
izzy806
jacobvanloon
romaincrisis
areudirty
annaxmalina
origamiaround
