꩜𖦹༄ author's note: based on request!! let me out of my cage. pls. 😭 dadaman aang also tew fine in the new movie....
the silence here is a lie.
they tell you the air nomads were all about peace and detachment, drifting through life like clouds that never touch the earth, but the way aang is holding you right now feels like gravity being reinvented. he’s supposed to be the bridge, the monk, the vegetarian boy with the easy smile and the heavy burden, but in the dark of the sanctuary, he’s just a man who has discovered a different kind of hunger. he’s a good man, truly, the kind of soul that would weep over a broken wing, but right now his hands are bruised-purple against your hips and his eyes are dark with a craving that feels almost sacrilegious.
you used to think of him as something holy, something separate from the evil of this world. he’s the avatar, the master of four elements, the one who is meant to bring balance. but there is no balance in the way he’s folding your body into the furs, his weight a constant pressure that makes your lungs ache. he’s an airbender, but he’s moving like the tide, relentless but rhythmic, driving into you with a stamina that feels entirely supernatural. his tattoos glow faintly, blue lines tracing the curve of his muscles as he works, a divine light illuminating a very human, very pervy desperation.
"look at you," he murmurs, his voice a gravelly rasp that's so unlike the cheerful man who plays with lemurs. he’s kissing your jaw, his tongue hot and wet, tracing the line where your skin meets the cold mountain air. "my girl. my perfect, beautiful girl. you’re taking all of it, aren’t you? every bit of me."
he’s sweet with his praise, calling you precious even as he uses his bending to hitch your legs higher, pinning your knees to your chest in a mating press that leaves you completely open to him. his cock is a thick, pulsing intrusion, sliding through the slick remnants of the last two times he’s come inside you.
"i want to see it leak out of you," he whispers, his words turning filthy as he thrusts deeper, hitting that sensitive spot that makes your vision go white. "i want you so full of me that you can't even walk straight. i'm going to put so much in you that your body has no choice but to keep it. you’re going to carry my children, okay? we’re going to bring them back. all of them."
the dirty talk is a shock to your system. this is the boy who blushes at a compliment, yet here he is, describing exactly how he wants to ruin you with a clinical, pervy specificity. he’s using his airbending instinctively now, small puffs of air circulating around your sensitive spots, keeping you in a state of constant, vibrating overstimulation. your clit feels like it’s being buffeted by a storm, and your internal walls are clamping down on him in desperate pulses, trying to find some kind of release that keeps being pushed just out of reach by his tireless pace.
"please... aang... i can't—" you babble, your voice breaking as he hitches your hips even higher. your back is arching off the furs, your fingers clawing at his forearms, where the blue arrows glow. "it's too much... it's too much..."
"it's not too much," he counters, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that pins you in place. "you can take more. i know you can. i want you to feel every inch of me filling you up. i want you to remember this feeling every time you look at the sky. i’m the avatar, right? i’m supposed to restore the air nomads. and i’m starting right here. with you. i’m going to fill you so full of my seed that there won't be room for anything else."
he begins to move faster, the slow, deep grinds giving way to sharp, staccato jacks that make your entire body jolt. he’s being so sweet with his hands, cupping your face, brushing the hair back from your sweaty forehead, yet his lower body is a machine of pure, unadulterated lust. the contrast is dizzying. he’s praising you, calling you his everything, his soulmate, his world, while his hips are delivering a relentless pounding against your pelvic bone.
the overstimulation is peaking. you can feel the pressure building in your lower belly, a tight, coil of heat that’s about to snap. your breath is coming in short, ragged gasps, and the room is starting to spin. the smell of him—that sweet, peachy scent of his skin combined with the raw, salty musk of his sweat—is the only thing keeping you grounded. you’re lost in the rhythm, lost in the sheer, overwhelming presence of him.
"aang, i'm... i'm gonna—"
"go for me," he groans, his own voice hitching as he senses your climax. "let it go. squeeze me. show me how much you want it."
he delivers one final, deep thrust, his cock hitting your cervix with such force that your vision literally flashes white. your cunt clamps down on him like a vice, milk-hot and desperate, and that’s what finally breaks him. aang lets out a string of inaudible words, his back arching as he slams himself into you one last time. you feel the his third release flooding into you, a thick, scalding torrent that feels like it’s filling you to the brim. he pumps into you over and over, his balls drawing up tight against your folds, his entire body shaking with the sheer volume of his climax.
the silence that follows is thick, broken only by the sound of your frantic, synchronised breathing. aang collapses onto your chest, his weight a comforting, crushing blanket. he’s panting, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his heart beating a frantic rhythm against your own. you can feel the hot slickness of his cum beginning to overflow, a warm, wet trail sliding down your thighs and onto the blankets.
he stays inside you for a long time, unwilling to break the connection. he’s soft now, but the intimacy of the moment is even more intense than the sex was. he lifts his head, a lopsided, boyish grin returning to his face, though his eyes still hold that dark, lingering hunger. he reaches down, his fingers tracing the wetness between your legs, his touch gentle and possessive.
"i think i did it," he whispers, his voice light but filled with an underlying gravity. "i think i put enough in there to start a whole new generation."
he kisses you then, a soft, lingering press of lips that tastes like salt and peaches. he pulls back just an inch, his eyes sparkling in the dying candlelight as he watches a thick, white glob of his seed leak out of you and onto the dark furs.
"look at that," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "you’re practically wearing me. i told you, i’m not going to be the last airbender for much longer. we’ve got work to do."
i'm actually sobbing. please. what do you guys have me writing.
゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ plug!choso loves recording his high girl while having sex.
"fuuck," his gravelly voice filled your ears while he pounded inside you, the sticky sounds of his thighs hitting your ass filling the back of his van.
if someone told you a month ago that you finally had the chance to be under your dealer today, you'd laugh in their face. because choso has always been nonchalant back then. now though? now he was thrusting like it was his plan all along too.
the flash of his iphone showed even the sweat on your back, catching a glimpse of the smoke in the van, clear hint of hotbox. you were on the makeshift bed he put on the back of his van, moaning needily while taking his cock. you were so high and horny, mumbling 'daddy's and 'yes cho's in the air, barely audible in his video.
"this pussy's heaven," he grinned, grunting while he kept thrusting in you, recording the way your pussy was swallowing his cock completely. the base had a juicy ring from your wetness, and he was sure that this video was going to be his reason of quitting porn.
he was going to make his own album of porns with you from now on, high and vulnerable beneath him in his van.
"y'like daddy's cock sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice so deep and lazy that it made you clench. you moaned louder in agreement, and he gave a lazy spank on your ass. "mm.. thought so.."
"cho 'm gonna.. haah.." you moaned, peeking behind your shoulder. the flash of his phone made you squint, your half lidded and red pupils visible. he focused on your face, his thumb pressing inside your mouth. "gonna cum angel?" he murmured, and you sucked his thumb while nodding.
it was such a pornographic sight, really. you were his dream coming true. so high, so out of your mind, and so needy for his cock that you didn't even cared he was recording you. you'd probably say yes to whatever he asked and it was enough to make his cock twitch.
"cum then baby," he murmured, biting his lip behind the phone while watching your face through the screen, smudging your saliva on your own lips. you didn't needed to be told twice when you felt your orgasm hit you—eyes crossing prettily as you came hard around him.
"shit angel, gonna fill you up, okay?" he breathed while you babbled 'yes daddy's, the phone recording his cock now as he thrusted a slight bit faster, right before he came deep inside you. "fuuuckk.." he whispered; groaning as he recorded you milking him.
slowly pulling out, he kept you bended over, watching your pussy pulsing around nothing and spurting out his thick cum. "we're gonna make a lotta videos baby, y'hear me?" he murmured, spanking and kneading your ass.
──── dad’s best friend .ᐟ 𝓑eau 𝓐rlen who drinks a little too much at one of your family’s backyard parties and can’t help but pull you away from all the commotion. As you two stumble up the side of the house, you see the drunken affection in his eyes. It’s that same fondness he usually keeps hidden whenever he’s around you, buried deep beneath that infuriatingly diplomatic exterior of his.
When he manages to crowd you back against the bricks, his hand cups your cheek, and whatever words he’s speaking seem to blur into mumbled background noise. It falls silent, and the moment changes, just leaving that soft solemn look on his face. Beau sighs like it hurts to exhale, a deep shaky breath from the bottom of his lungs, and admires how beautiful you are under the slivers of silver moonlight.
“My sweet girl,” Beau finally breaks the silence. “Why were you born too late for me?” His tipsy murmuring is gentle, and his words hang in the air, bereft and full of anguish, like the universe itself is playing some cruel trick on the both of you. His eyes search yours, almost pleadingly, looking for any glimmer of understanding of this convoluted mess you’ve both found yourselves in. He knows he can’t have you, and you know it too. He continues, his tone still hushed and pained, “You were made for me, you know? The most perfect thing in the world that I’m not allowed to have.”
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