things turn steamy when AO'NUNG asks you to braid his hair
notesïŒagedup!ao'nungxomatikaya!reader, established relationship, i'm back and i'll be posting more avatar fanfics, I haven't posted anything avatar since 2024 and I'm not sure if this will do well ngl I might flop but I'm writing for the fandom and for myself so enjoy, here are some translations if needed:
vrrtep-demon, tsurak-skimwing, sevin-pretty.
warningsïŒ cunnilingus, dirty talking, praise, porn w/ minimal plot,
wcïŒ2.9k
You sat criss-cross on the taupe coloured woven walk-way outside your family's marui, all four of your blue fingers working diligently in weaving a new serape for sleep, since your youngest sister, Tuk, decided it would be a good idea to play dress up with her ilu, ultimately causing your article of clothing to be consumed by the ocean.
You sighed presently as you reminisced, fingers growing tired trying to harness the foreign ocean-sourced material your friend, Tsireya kindly provided for your dilemma, as you were used to the silky, wieldable forest fabrics of the Omatikaya, usually made from stringed plants and spun bark fibres.
These unfamiliar materials were harder to constrain and the colours were a bit too pale and exotic to your liking, nonetheless, you persevered, weaving intricate patterns you learned from young. The switch from mud, trees and grass to sand, mangrove and water was a stubbornly challenging accomplishment.
You knew of ikrans and direhorses, not traversing by ilu or the fierce volcano-coloured beasts the Metkayina called skimwings. You chuckled to yourself, recalling your first moons upon arriving at Awa'atlu, trying to conquer the water and harness the slimy ilus on first attempt, only to be ribbed by the chieftain's sonâ
"What are you making, forest princess?"
Speak of the vrrtep.
Ao'nung te Tsika'u Tonowari'itan, the Metkayina hunter that had decided to take an interest in you, despite your painstakingly obvious differences.
"Could you maybe announce your presence next time?" you scoffed, glancing behind your shoulder, allowing your canary coloured eyes to meet his soft blue ones, eliciting a shy smile from the implied perpetrator.
Your eyebrows raised slightly when you noticed his hair, his customary braided bun was given a break today and his long, loosely-coiled hair was free and tumbled around his broad shoulders. You returned his smile once he came and sat next to you, legs hanging over the edge of the walkway and emerging his feet into the water, his firm, muscular thigh pressed against your knee and you feel satisfied with the contact.
"I'm sorry, I had to be quiet, what if the great Toruk Makto was lingering, I'd be the beast's next snack." Ao'nung bantered, eyes fixed on the orange-tinted sea as Alpha Centauri sat inches above the line of the horizon.
"Lingering in his own home?" you questioned with a giggle, hands finding rhythm as they continued to weave. "Did you fight with a tsurak or are you trying to look more like your father?" you enquired, referring to his undone hair.
"I got sand in my braids and I had to let them out, plus my mother wanted me to try her new scalp oil." Ao'nung answered, lowering his voice when he spoke the second half of his sentence, his broad palm coming to rest on your knee, causing your skin to burn hot where his skin met yours. The sudden shiver as a reaction to his hand on your body almost made you lose track of the slightly embarrassing note he had just mentioned.
Dropping your weaving materials, you reach out to touch his hair, leaning in and getting a nice, hearty sniff, eyes closed and all. Ao'nung cracks a laugh, trying to hide the way his face suddenly becomes hot, "Smells nice, like a flower." you comment, leaning back to your original position with your hands still in his hair, combing through the curly strands that were slightly damp.
"Could you maybe braid it for me?" Ao'nung asks, barely even audible as he refuses to meet your intense stare. "Hm?" you ask again, despite knowing exactly what he just said, both hands now intrigued entirely with his hair, if he had known all it took was letting down his hair to get all this attention, then maybe looking like his father wouldn't be so bad after all.
Groaning internally, Ao'nung's face flushed purple, "I said could you maybe braid it for me?" he parroted, causing your hands to pause their motion throughout his curls, "Sure, if you want me to." you pause for a second before saying, your hands brushing his hair behind his shoulders before retreating to rest on his knuckles which sat atop your knee still.
" Well if I didn't want you to then I wouldn't of asked." he retorted playfully. You chuckled, standing to your feet, leaving your weaving materials on the woven pathway, "Come inside, I have some combs and string bindings." you invite him, expecting him to follow as you begun walking into your family's empty marui.
Ao'nung hesitated for a second, "Nobody's home." you call out from inside the marui and watch as he scrambles inside. Scoffing, you gather the comb you brought from the forest and some of your own oils to make the braiding process easier.
Ao'nung stood awkwardly inside your family's marui, eyeing the space, giving your environment a thorough inspection. Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, your eyes dart around your marui, picking apart your surroundings incase it harboured any embarrassing items.
Spotting the crate your father used to stash his human weapons you suddenly felt your heart thud aggressively. You knew how most na'vi, especially the Metkayina felt about metal devices. Weapons of metal are forbidden. To touch them poisons the heart.
Ao'nung seemed to bypass your humanness when he decided to persue you romantically, however you could still recall his initial impression of you and your family, despite his countless apologies and forms of compensationâwhich you obviously accepted, you still couldn't get rid of the disgusting flare of embarrassment that came with being a half-breed.
In one swift motion, you planted yourself onto the crate, making yourself comfortable, acting like it was just a regular piece of Omatikaya-cultured furniture your eccentric family brought from the forest.
Your sudden movement caught Ao'nung's attention and he displayed a look of confusion, causing your nervousness to spike, "Come sit!" you eagerly spoke, in a shrieking tone, parting your legs slightly and setting the comb and oils onto the smooth surface of the crate.
Ao'nung's confusion dissipated and you let out a sigh of relief, as he settles between your legs, the back of his head facing you with his spine pressed along the crate, you take some oil into your hands and start combing through his hair.
"So have you decided what style you want?" you ask him while your fingers brush easily through his hair, the woody scent, familiar to you but foreign to him left a little marking of yourself onto Ao'nung.
"You know what I like, nothing different." he says and you can hear the smile in his voice, as he speaks and his chest vibrates you can feel the effect it has on you as the skin on your calves begin to burn, and as Ao'nung felt comfortable the back of his broadened shoulders pressed onto your calves, intensifying the heat.
You hum in response, enjoying the calming space. You pick up the comb and began brushing through his oiled hair, barely finding any tangles. But, when it came time to section Ao'nung's hair into parts, to start with the secure braids at the front, you needed him to move his head back.
"Ao'nung, can you move your head back slightly, I need to section from the front." you instructed, and he complied, well sort of. When he brought his head back and you used the comb to section his hair you felt some stray hairs tickle your knee, sending waves of tingles up your spine, yet you continued, or at least tried to.
Lazily, Ao'nung moved his head to the side, resting comfortably against your left inner thigh, his hair brushing the bare skin making you let out a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a breathy giggle, which of course he noticed.
"I like that sound." Ao'nung declared aloud, causing your hand to jolt slightly, comb almost slipping out of your grasp, you let out a shallow breath but ultimately continue parting through his thick, lustrous hair. Seemingly motivated, Ao'nung continues to slowly rub the side of his head along your inner thigh, making you feel tingly and warm between your legs, his hair also poked your skin causing a ticklish feeling.
You let out a wholesome giggle and slightly jerk yourself forward, wanting to feel this tingly sensation on the more upper parts of your inner thigh. "Ao'nung you're tickling me with your hair." you snickered, trying to complain but your voice gave away how much you were enjoying this.
You could feel the corner of his lips grow into a smirk as the side of his cheek pressed against your inner thigh, he brings his hand and from under your legs he starts rubbing along the side of your thighs, slightly pushing your thighs closer to his face before planting a soft kiss onto the inner part of your thigh which was closest.
An affectionate smile forms on your face as you use the comb to brush his scalp, your movements almost mindless as you focus on the attention your thighs were receiving. Brushing inconsistent waves along the underside of your thighs, reaching dangerously close to your ass, but not quite there, Ao'nung presses wet kisses along the inner side, pink tongue coming out to swipe against your skin eliciting tingling pleasure at the sensation, essence of your arousal oozing out of your core.
"Ao'nung..." you moan, hand barely moving as the comb laid stationary in your palm, your body and apparently mind, was completely entranced by the way Ao'nung's mouth and hands worshipped your lower body, without even needing to touch your most sensi tive parts. The feeling was overwhelming but you could honestly receive this attention all day.
The hand on the underside of your left thigh was now attempting to pry your legs wider while Ao'nung sucked on the skin of your inner thigh, delivering a final kiss, he jolted upwards, turning around to meet you while still being on the floor below you. This was a view you could honestly get used to, Ao'nung settled between your legs, hair down and damp, cascading down his shoulders with his lips a glossy, supple pink colour and eyes that looked like they were ready to devour you.
You were awestruck, mouth parted, pupils blown wide and only carnal thoughts filled your mind, and the man situated between your legs just smirked.
"Spread your legs wider for me, sevin." he uttered, with one hand resting on either side of your legs, you opened up for him. "You don't know how bad I have wanted to do this." Ao'nung spoke, almost as if he was about to wake up from a dream, licking his lips and shaking his head in disbelief.
"Do what?" you ask tauntingly, playing with the strings of your loincloth, hips moving forward to press against the top of the crate which you sat on, to provide some sort of friction.
"Maybe you can tell me what you're going to do to me while I take off my loincloth, hm?" you suggested in a way which sounded more like instructions, but Ao'nung was willing to comply dutifully. As you slowly tugged on the strings of your loincloth on your left side you watched Ao'nung smirk, bringing himself closer to you.
"Make you feel good, using my mouthâ my tongue." Ao'nung began, fingers spreading atop your thigh, moving up and down on the smooth skin as you finally pulled the strings loose on one side, nodding along to Ao'nung's words as he talked, thoroughly enjoying the pure filth he was going on about, but it was far from enough. You wanted more.
"I want to taste you, savour your sweetness, Eywa, I want to bury my tongue so deep into your pussy while you scream my name." Ao'nung groans, a silent growl leaving his lips as he speaks, his words were like music to your ears and fuel to the fire burning between your legs.
You whined in response, eagerly undoing the strings of the other side of your loincloth pulling the piece of fabric off of your heated core as soon as possible, it was as good as useless in this moment. Propping your hands behind your back you shifted yourself forward, keeping your legs spread as you revealed your throbbing, wet pussy to Ao'nung who looked like he had just seen a fresh fruit after months of starvation.
His tail thumped loudly onto the ground, "Can you please let me taste you?" Ao'nung begged, breath fanning your naked core at the proximity and you felt like your body could not do anything else but nod vigorously.
Upon approval, Ao'nung gripped your legs, pulling them further apart if that was even possible and you nearly slid off the crate, but your arms behind you kept you grounded.
His hot, broad tongue pressed up against your swollen clit, he began licking wide stripes against the sensitive area, tongue reaching your hole to move back up to your clit where he used your wetness paired with his spit to slide his tongue up and down your pussy, and everything became messy quickly.
His mouth was covered in clear juices of your arousal and he enjoyed every bit of it, the pads of his fingers dug into the plump, yet firm flesh of your thighs as he licked, sucked and swallowed your womanly essence. Your eyes rolled into your head as you were immersed in the tingly feeling, his tongue worked wonders on your pussy and you couldn't help but moan and whine, even shifting your hips forward to almost grind yourself on his tongue.
Soon, when his nose hit your clit, while he did as he previously stated, and explored your soppy hole using his tongue, you felt your toes press harshly into the underside of your feet, receiving a deepened tingle you've never felt before. His tongue was lodged deep into your weeping hole as his face moved side to side, he was completely busied with your pussy.
His hot tongue soon retreated from the tight dampness of your hole as he took some breaths, and immediately started sucking onto your clit as he regained his momentum. "Ao'nung, Oh! This feels soâ" you dissmissed your own sentence with a throaty moan that emerged from your soul itself, when he took a finger and inserted it into your hole with a squelch.
His mouth withdrew from your clit and he looked up at you, your eyelids heavy and your bottom lip tucked behind your front teeth, heavy breaths went in and out your nostrils as your chest heaved, before his signature smirk could form onto his face he latched his lips onto your clit, sucking vehemently onto the swollen bud, fingers moving with the same excitement as they dove into your hole and came back out with the same speed at which they went in.
Ao'nung looked up at you again, in the midst of your eyes rolling up into your head, " Look at me." he grunts while quickening the pace of his fingers. You point your pitifully dizzy gaze down onto him and when you do he delivers another passionate suck onto your clit, followed by a wet lick. "C'mon, I know you're going to finish soon." he groans while looking up at you, punctuating his sentence with yet another suck onto your clit.
"Look at me when I make you come, so I can see the face you make when you fall apart just for me." he growls onto your pussy, fingers curling into your hole, feeling a spongy spot that produced the most disgustingly, sweet sounds from your mouth.
"Ah!Yes, fuck!" you whine out, feeling yourself uncontrollably react to all the attention Ao'nung was giving to your pussy, something in your lower stomach tightened and you remembered his words, trying your hardest to look down at his moving head, hair embarrassingly dampened and sticking all over, onto the side of his head, his neck, your inner thighs. And as his finger jackhammered into your weeping, pulsating hole, Ao'nung delivered a final suck to your clit, making you groan loudly in pleasureable fulfillment.
"Fuck! Ao'nung, I'm coming! I'm coming!" you whine out, toes curling and eyes threatening to close on itself, Ao'nung's face grew blurry as you rode out your high, and the muscles in your legs tightened rigidly before releasing, making you slump forward with a tired relief.
Your breaths heavy and uneven with each passing moment, slowly Ao'nung withdrew his finger from your slushy pussy, letting out a soft breath before cleaning off your release with his tongue. His action was barely noticed by you as you slumped forward, beads of your chest jewellery almost hitting him in the face and poking his eyes, if he hadn't held you up by the shoulders.
He chuckled at your state, a warm smile of pure satisfaction latched onto his face, resting your chin on top of his head as he held you up, you couldn't help but appreciate his hair for the millionth time that day, taking in the heady smell of your forest oils mixed with his mother's new scalp oil, you reach out to pat his head, like a 'good job' gesture.
"Your hair smells nice." you manage to say, feeling his thumb brush the skin on your shoulder, he chuckles in response. "Maybe I should leave my hair down, just for today." he asserted with an amused laugh.
summary aonung has been courting you, but youâre a little oblivious to the fact.
Pairing aonung x Metkayina!reader
wc 7.2k
a/n hi guys, if I havenât done your request by now Iâm probably just really not able to write it. I get writers block so bad. But feel free to send in different ones! I love your ideas and inspiration
The sky had deepened into a bruised plum color, the vast expanse above bleeding from the burning orange of an eclipse sunset into the cool, velvety indigo of true night. Around your thighs, the bioluminescence of the shore was beginning to wake up, greeting the darkness in tiny, flickering pulses of neon blue beneath the surface. The tide was low, revealing the skeleton of the reefâa labyrinth of coral and sandbars that usually lay hidden beneath the turquoise waves.
You shifted the weight of your woven basket, resting it firmly against the curve of your hip as you waded through the knee-deep water. The woven palm fronds dug slightly into your skin, damp and rough, but the weight was satisfying. It was a physical promise of the hours of creation ahead; a heavy basket meant a busy night at the loom, crushing shells for pigment and threading beads for the clanâs ceremonial sashes.
A few yards away, the soft splashing of water broke the rhythmic lapping of the tide. Loâak and Tsireya were lost in their own world, a bubble of laughter and shy touches that seemed impenetrable to the outside world. Loâak was submerged to his waist, his tail splashing playfully behind him as he ducked down, his movements unrefined but enthusiastic, to scoop up a handful of polished stones.
"For you," he mumbled, his ears flushing a dark violet as he offered them to her.
Tsireya giggled, the sound like the wind chimes her mother once strung around awaâatlu, and their heads leaned close together as he showed her his finds. It was a common sight now; since theyâd started courting, Loâak had become a permanent fixture at Tsireyaâs side. By extension, Aonung had stopped trying to drown him, or at the very least, had ceased his active antagonism. In fact, they moved with a comfortable, brotherly ease nowâa mix of teasing and begrudging respect that made the evenings in Awaâatlu feel peaceful.
"Found another one!" you chirped, spotting a flash of cream-colored calcium beneath a sharp ledge of brain coral.
You bent over, your focus narrowing on the prize. It was distinct against the darker sand, a spiral of pure white that would grind down into a perfect, snowy paste for dye. As you leaned down, the water rippling around your waist, your thick curls tumbled forward. Gravity pulled the heavy, damp ringlets over your shoulders, obscuring your vision and sticking to your cheeks.
With a practiced, absent-minded flick of your wrist, you tossed the damp mass back over your shoulder. The beads braided into your hairâtiny pieces of shell and woodâclacked softly against one another, a musical accompaniment to your labor.
You didn't notice Aonung standing just a few feet away, his movements going perfectly still.
He had been pacing the perimeter of the sandbar, ostensibly keeping watch for akula or merely patrolling his territory, but in truth, he had been circling you. Now, he froze. He was watching the way the seawater droplets clung to your skin, shimmering like liquid crystals against your patterned teal skin. He watched the concentrated line of your brow, the tip of your tongue just barely poking out between your teeth in focus, and the way your eyesâwide and bright with genuine wonderâlit up as you pulled the small, fluted shell from the sand.
To the rest of the clan, you were a diligent worker, a kind soul. To him, in this quiet moment between day and night, you looked perfectly in your elementâa pretty girl collecting pretty things, entirely unaware of how the starlight caught the curve of your collarbone.
Your head turned toward the figure looming a little ways away. Your eyes unexpectedly landed on Aonung, and a confused expression took over your features. He usually spent this time of day sharpening his spear or boasting with his friends by the fire. You wondered what he was doing here, standing so silently in the shallows, but deciding not to press, you simply waved at him.
Your inviting demeanor was one of his favorite things about you, though he would sooner die than admit it out loud. You never let anyone in the clan feel left out or less than. You were loyal to your people, a healer of spirits if not of bodies, always trying your hardest to make sure everyone was doing well.
"Look at the ridges on this, Aonung," you said, breaking the silence as you lifted the shell up toward him.
You took a step closer, water swirling around your thighs. Your eyes were wide, sparkling with that infectious excitement you only got when you found a new treasure for your art. "The symmetry is perfect. Eywa really was showing off when she made this one."
Aonung stared at the shell, forcing his eyes to focus on the calcium spiral rather than the water dripping from your curls, and gliding over your ceremonial tattoo. Then, against his will, his gaze drifted up to your face. He felt that familiar tight pull in his chestâa mixture of suffocating pride and a desperate, surging need to be the reason that look stayed on your face. He wanted to be the source of that wonder, not a dead piece of calcium.
"It is... adequate," he managed to say, his voice a bit deeper than usual, rough like gravel rolling in the surf.
He felt foolish the moment the words left his lips. Adequate? It was a beautiful find. But his defenses were high, a wall built of teenage bravado and the terrifying vulnerability of a first love. He didn't wait for you to respond. He turned abruptly and effortlessly dove, his powerful tail kicking up a spray of glowing foam that misted the air between you.
You simply hummed with a small tilt of your head, unbothered by his stoicism. You dropped the shell into your basket, the clack of it joining the others, and watched his figure disappear into the darkening water.
Unbeknownst to you, underneath the surface, Aonung was on a mission.
The water was cooler here, silent save for the rush of the current. His bioluminescent spots glowed brightly in the dim depths, marking his path like a constellation. He swam past the easy findsâthe common cowries and the drift-wood that Loâak was content finding in the shallows for his little sister. That was child's play. That was easy.
Aonung wanted the deeper parts of the reef. He wanted the places where the current was often unpredictable, where the pressure built against his ears, but where the rewards were unparalleled. He kicked harder, propelling himself toward a jagged drop-off where the coral grew thick and ancient. He scanned the crevices, his eyes adjusting to the gloom, hunting. He needed something that spoke of effort. Something that said, I went where others could not, just for you.
When he surfaced minutes later, he didn't just walk over and drop his finds into your basket. He waited. He treaded water, watching you scan the shoreline, waiting until you were standing still with that contemplative look on your face. He watched the way you bit your lower lip as you decided where to step next, your tail swaying in the water behind you for balance.
Only then did he move. He walked right into your space, dripping wet, the rising heat of his body radiating through the cool evening air. He stopped mere inches from you, close enough that you had to crane your neck slightly to look him in the eye.
"The shallows only give you what the ocean is tired of holding," he said softly, his voice low and intimate.
He reached out, his large hand hovering over your basket. He placed a cluster of small shells onto the pile of your woven treasures. They were heavy, distinctâa deep, blood-red color, their surfaces smooth as glass but thick and sturdy. They looked like they could withstand a storm, or a thousand years of tides.
You gasped, your fingers immediately abandoning your own basket rim to ghost over them.
"Aonung... these are beautiful," you whispered, the breath leaving your lungs. You looked up at him through your lashes, eyes wide. "The color... Iâve never seen this shade before. I can use the pigment from the broken ones to dye my thread the color of the eclipse sun. How did you find so many?"
You smiled, your ears swiveling back in delight as you felt your heart thump at the gesture. The realization hit you suddenlyâhe was so close. His broad frame towered over you, blocking out the view of the distant village fires, encompassing your entire world in that moment. You could practically trace every line of his tattoo that streamed from where his brow met his nose, to the right side of his face.
Aonung felt a swell of triumph so potent it nearly made him dizzy. He noticed the way you looked at the shellsâwith reverence and joyâand he silently vowed to empty the entire ocean floor, to fight an akula with his bare hands, if it meant youâd keep looking at him with those wide, appreciative eyes.
"I know where the hidden pockets are," he said, clearing his throat and trying to sound nonchalant.
He crossed his arms over his chest, though his own heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. A smirk grew on his lips, that familiar teasing glint appearing in his eyes as he narrowed them. He did a dramatic look away toward the other couple, shrugging his shoulders. "Loâak and Tsireya are happy with the scraps. I thought you might want something... more."
You gasped, your ears swiveling back, and you slapped his bicep playfully. The muscle under your hand was hard as rock, and wet skin slick against your palm. A small giggle of shock fell past your lips.
"Do not be mean, Aonung," you chided, though there was no heat in it. "But... thank you. Thank you for being so helpful today."
You gave him a bright, blinding smile, one that crinkled the corners of your eyes, before happily going back to your searching. You adjusted the basket, treating his contribution like gold, and bent down again to inspect the sand closely.
Predictably, your curls fell forward again.
Aonung stood rooted to the spot. Once more, you huffed softly and flipped them back with that graceful, unconscious toss of your head. Aonung watched the movement, his hands twitching at his sides. His fingers curled into fists. He wanted so badly to reach out. He wanted to be the one to tuck those wayward curls behind your ear. He wanted to be the one to carry the basket that was clearly getting too heavy to rest on your hip. He wanted to do everything for you, and the intensity of the desire was terrifying.
"Hey! Y/N! Aonung! Check this out!"
The shout broke the spell. Loâak was waving his arms frantically from a tidal pool a twenty meters away. He was holding up a bright orange sea star, visibly dryâ either a shed or it simply died before it could make it back to the water. "Itâs huge!"
Aonung looked at Loâak, his jaw tightening. Then he looked back at you.
He saw you laugh at Loâakâs find, your attention shifting entirely to the forest boy. "Thatâs amazing, Loâak! It will make a great center for a chest piece!" you called, your voice light and affectionate.
A sudden, sharp spark of jealousyânot of Loâak as a rival, but of the attention you were giving the sea starâflared in Aonungâs chest. It burned hot and fast. A starfish? Anyone could find a starfish. A starfish was nothing.
He didn't say a word. He didn't acknowledge Lo'ak's shout. He just turned and dove again, slashing into the water with more force than necessary. He went deeper this time, past the red shells, past the coral ridge. He was determined to find something so magnificent, so rare, that you wouldn't be able to look at Lo'ak, or the stars, or anything else for the rest of the night.
You laughed softly at his sudden departure, shaking your head. "He is so competitive," you murmured to yourself, amused by his antics. To you, it was just boys being boys, trying to outdo one another in speed and skill.
As the time passed, the moon rose higher, casting a silver sheen over the water. Your basket grew heavier, forcing you to switch hips frequently. You shifted the weight of Aonung's growing pile of treasuresâhe had returned three more times, each time with something more impressive: a piece of obsidian glass, a pearl still inside the oyster, and a branch of coral that looked like frozen lightning.
Finally, Tsireya waded over to you, Lo'ak trailing behind her like a happy puppy.
"Your brother is in such a good mood today, isn't he?" you said, wiping the sand from your hands as you turned to Tsireya. You gestured to the waterline where Aonung was currently surfacing, holding something that glowed faintly purple in his hands. "It's so nice of him to help me collect materials. Usually, he says weaving is boring work."
Tsireya froze. She looked at the rare, aesthetic hoard in your basketâmaterials that would have taken days to find in the shallows. She looked at the blood-red shells that required a dangerous dive into the trench.
Then, she looked out at the water. She saw her brother, the future Olo'eyktan, usually so proud and aloof, practically vibrating with the hope that you would like his latest offering. He was looking at you with an expression so open, so full of longing, that it was almost painful to witness.
Finally, she looked back at your sweet, oblivious face. You were smiling, genuinely believing Aonung was just being a dutiful clan member.
Tsireya let out a long, slow sigh, shaking her head.
"Yes, Ma tsmuke," Tsireya murmured, a pitying smile on her lips as she patted your arm. "Extremely... 'nice.'"
The following week dissolved into a blur of turquoise water and sun-bleached moments, defined less by your daily chores and more by the sudden, omnipresent gravity of the chiefâs son. It was as if he had developed a sixth sense for your whereabouts, appearing whenever you were just starting to feel relaxed.
He appeared at random, unpredictable hours, disrupting the rhythm of your day with the chaotic energy of a storm tide. If you were mending nets by the docks, his shadow would suddenly fall over your work, his hands "accidentally" brushing yours as he offered to help with a knot you perfectly understood how to tie. If you were having a quiet meal, he would drift by, dropping a fresh fruit onto your woven mat without a word, only a smirk that lingered long after he had walked away.
But it was the afternoons beneath the water that became his favorite hunting ground.
You were deep underwater, the sunlight filtering down in shimmering "god-rays" that danced across the sandy floor, riding ilus with the Sully children and Tsireya. Down here, the world was silent save for the muffled clicks of the sea life and the rhythmic beat of your own heart.
You were all gliding through a forest of giant sea fans, the Sullys struggling a bit with their breathing rhythms while Tsireya moved with the effortless grace of a creature born of the current. You were focused on your own mount, adjusting your grip on the neural bond, when a large, dark shadow swept over you.
Aonung appeared right beside you, his ilu banking sharply to match your speed. In the turquoise gloom, his bioluminescent dots glowed like a map of the stars. He caught your eye and flashed a wide, shit-eating grin that sent a jolt through your chest. He didn't say a wordâhe didn't have to. He simply raised a hand, signing one sharp, challenging word:
âRace?â
You didn't even wait to signal the others. You leaned flat against the iluâs neck, and the two of you went full throttle.
The pressure of the water increased as you accelerated, the reef becoming a blur of neon streaks. You pushed through the resistance, your tail acting as a secondary rudder, feeling the raw power of the ocean rushing past your skin. You and Aonung were neck-and-neck, weaving through coral arches and tight rock formations, completely dusting your friends. By the time you looped around the massive sea-wall and tore back toward the shore, the rest of the group was nothing but distant, tiny specks in the blue.
As the water turned from deep indigo to the pale, sun-drenched teal of the shallows, you both breached the surface simultaneously.
You gasped for air, the transition from the silent depths to the crashing sound of the waves making your head spin for a moment. Aonung popped up just inches away. He was desperately trying to play it cool, smoothing his hair back with both hands, but he couldn't hide the heavy, ragged heave of his chest. The race had pushed him just as hard as it had pushed you.
In the heat of the moment, your eyes betrayed you.
Instead of looking at the horizon or checking on the others, your gaze drifted. It started at his soaked hair, which was plastered to his forehead, then traced the dark, intricate tattoos that marked his face as a future leader. Your eyes lingered on his broadening shoulders and the powerful swell of his chest, following the lines of his body down to his core. His abs were defined and tense from the exertion, partially obscured by a beautifully woven chest piece that slung around his shouldersâa piece you knew heâd spent time choosing.
Aonung went still. He caught you staring, the exhaustion in his eyes instantly replaced by a predatory, playful spark. His ears flickered once, twice, and then that arrogant, knowing grin returned.
âMy eyes are up here, ma txeâlan,â he teased.
His voice was a low, honeyed rumble that cut through the sound of the surf. You felt the blood rush to your face instantly, your ears flattening in pure mortification as your eyes shot back up to meet his. He watched your panic with absolute delight, his smile growing wider as he realized exactly how much of an effect he was having on you.
You quickly regained your composure, holding your head high as you huffed at him, trying to summon every ounce of dignity you had left while your face still burned a vivid shade of violet.
âI was simply observing the weaving!â you shot back, splashing a handful of water toward him to distract from your blush. âI helped make that piece, yâknow? I was checking to see if youâd managed to fray the edges already with your... recklessness.â
Aonung didnât flinch at the water; he leaned into it, his grin only sharpening. He looked down at the woven leather and shell-work crossing his chest, then back at you, his eyes hooded and dark with mischief.
"Ah, so it was a professional inspection then?" he asked, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. He began to paddle his ilu closer, the creatureâs wet skin squeaking against yours as he closed the gap. "Tell me, weaver, did the 'work' meet your standards? Or do you need to get closer to check the... structural integrity?"
He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin, a stark contrast to the cool ocean mist clinging to your shoulders. The playful arrogance in his posture was infuriating, mostly because it was working.
"The work is fine," you managed to say, though your voice lacked its usual bite. "The wearer, however, is being a nuisance."
"A nuisance?" Aonung laughed, the sound deep and genuine. He reached up, his large hand lingering near the strap of the chest piece, right over the fastening thrum of his heart. "And here I thought I was being helpful, giving you a chance to admire your handiwork in action. Most artists would be grateful for such a... fine canvas."
He flexed his shoulder slightly, making the shells on the strap clack togetherâthe very shells he had dived into the deep reef to find for you just a week prior. It was a silent reminder of the effort he was putting in, a hidden thread of vulnerability beneath his teasingâ and unbeknownst to you, heâd chosen that piece because he recognized your work.
Before you could think of a witty retort, the sound of chattering ilus and splashing water announced the arrival of the others.
"Finally!" Loâakâs voice boomed as he surfaced a few yards away, his expression a mix of annoyance and awe. "What was that? You guys took off like you had an akula on your tails!"
Tsireya pulled up beside him, her eyes darting between your flushed face and Aonungâs smug expression. She didn't miss the way her brother was lingering in your personal space, or the way your tail was twitching nervously beneath the surface. A knowing, slightly weary smile touched her lips.
"Aonung, stop pestering her," Tsireya chided gently, though there was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "She came out here to enjoy the water, not to be run ragged by your ego."
"I was merely testing her speed, sister," Aonung said, finally pulling his mount back a few inches, though he kept his gaze locked on yours. "And it seems she is almost as fast as I am. Almost."
He winked at youâa quick, daring movement that felt like a secret shared in front of everyoneâbefore turning his ilu to join the group.
The afternoon that followed was shared between the both of you.Â
The sun, a bloated orb of fire, dipped toward the horizon, bleeding amber and gold into the turquoise waters of the reef. In the weavers' pavilion, the air was thick with the scent of dried sea grass, crushed minerals, and the faint, sweet aroma of the incense the elders burned to honor the Great Mother.
You sat nestled in your usual spot, your legs tucked beneath you. This was your sanctuary. While the others were out hunting or practicing with their spears, you found a different kind of power in the loom. There was a rhythm to itâa heartbeat in the clack-clack of the wood and the sliding of the shuttle.
You were surrounded by the elders of the clan, women whose hands were stained with dye and whose skin was etched with the deep, storied lines of many seasons. You loved their company; they didn't care about the petty dramas of the teenagers or the posturing of the hunters. They spoke of the ancestors, of the flow of Eywa, and today, they were particularly interested in your recent progress.
"Your thread is becoming stronger, little one," Tiâmiria, the eldest among them, remarked as she peered over her spectacles made of polished translucent shell. "And your eye for color is improving."
You beamed, dipping a bundle of fibers into a bowl of fixative. "Thank you, Tiâmiria. Iâve been trying a new technique for the binding." you watched a her eyes wandered to your material basket.
"You have been blessed by the tides, little one," Saeyla remarked, her voice like crinkling parchment. She gestured with a gnarled, dye-stained finger toward the cluster of deep, blood-red shells resting atop your fibers. "Those are not found by mere luck. They cling to the undersides of the jagged rocks where the currents are strong enough to rip a weak swimmer from the reef."
You flushed, reaching down to pick one up. It felt heavy and cool, its surface polished by the violence of the ocean. "I didn't find them," you said, your voice softening. "Aonung went to get them for me. He said the shallows were only for things the ocean was tired of holding."
A hush fell over the circle. It wasn't a cold silence, but one pregnant with meaning. Tiâmiria exchanged a look with the woman beside herâa look that held the weight of a thousand seasons. They knew the pride of the Olo'eyktanâs son; they knew he didn't risk his life for "weaving supplies" unless his heart was already caught in the thread.
"Is that so?" She whispered, a secretive, knowing smile stretching her lips. "How very... helpful of him."
Before you could defend his honor or insist it was just a display of his typical arrogance, a shadow lengthened across the pavilion floor. The heavy, rhythmic footfalls were unmistakable.
Aonung strode in, looking entirely too large and too vibrantly alive for the quiet space. He wasn't carrying a spear or a net. Instead, he held a small, sturdy basket of his own. Without a word of greeting to the eldersâthough he gave them a respectful dip of his headâhe dropped onto the mat directly beside you.
"Aonung!" you hissed, your eyes wide as you leaned toward him. "What are you doing here? This is a quiet space."
He didn't look at you. Instead, he began pulling out strips of dark, cured leather and a handful of small, iridescent shells that shimmered like oil on water. "My father says a leader must know the craft of his people," he grumbled, though his ears were twitching in a way that suggested he was lying through his teeth. "I have... things to make. I am joining you."
You stared at his basket. It wasn't filled with broken gear to mend. It was filled with beautiful, hand-picked treasuresâsmall, delicate white shells, obsidian beads, and a strange, glowing blue seaglass.
"Since when do you weave, Aonung?" you whispered, your voice hushed so the elders wouldn't hear your teasing.
"Since I decided I wanted to," he snapped back, though there was no heat in it. He fumbled with the leather strips, his large, calloused fingers looking comically oversized as he tried to start a basic four-strand braid.
You watched him for a moment, your heart doing a strange little skip. He was being so deliberate, his brow furrowed in that same intense concentration you had seen when he was hunting. You assumed he was making a new grip for his knife or perhaps a decorative band for his ilu. You had no idea that every shell in his basket had been chosen because it reminded him of the way the light caught your eyes, or that the length of the kelp leather he was braiding was exactly the circumference of your neck.
The hour stretched on. The elders eventually stopped staring and went back to their own work, their low hum of gossip returning like the evening tide.
Aonung was struggling. A low, frustrated growl vibrated in his chest as the leather strips slipped from his grip for the third time.
"You're pulling much too hard," you murmured, reaching over without thinking.
Your fingers brushed his, and he went perfectly still. The heat of his skin was startling against yours. You gently took the leather from his hands, showing him how to keep the tension even. "If you pull too hard on the left, the whole braid will twist. You have to be patient, Aonung. You have to follow to the material."
You guided his hands with yours, your smaller fingers resting over his knuckles. For a moment, the world narrowed down to the sensation of his skin, the smell of salt and sun that followed him everywhere, and the rhythmic sound of his breathing.
He didn't look at the braid. He was looking at you. His gaze was heavy, focused on the way your hair fell over your shoulder, on the small patch of bioluminescence near your collarbone where this necklace would soon rest, on the way your lips moved as you explained the craft.
"Like this?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that made your stomach flip.
"Yes," you whispered, finally meeting his eyes. "Exactly like that."
You spent the rest of the evening in a state of quiet bliss. You discovered that Aonung was actually quite funny when he wasn't trying to be the toughest warrior in the village. He told you about the time he tried to ride a skimwing before he was ready and ended up face-first in a patch of stinging coral. He told you about the hidden caves behind the northern cliffs where the water turned a color so bright it looked like the sky.
And all the while, he worked. He meticulously wove the shells into the leather, his movements becoming more fluid under your guidance. He was creating a necklaceâa piece of jewelry so intricate and beautiful it would have taken an expert weeksâbut he was doing it in a single night, fueled by a desperate, silent need to give you something of his own making.
By the time the moon was high and the fireflies of the reef began their nightly dance, you were both finished. The pavilion was empty, the elders having slipped away long ago with knowing smiles.
"I should get back," you said, feeling a sudden, shy heaviness in your limbs. "My family will be wondering where I am."
"I will walk you," he said. It wasn't a suggestion.
He picked up your heavy basket, slinging it over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing, while he tucked his own finished work into a hidden pouch at his waist.
The walk to your marui was slow. The village was quiet, the only sound the soft slap-slapof the water against the pilings and the distant call of a night-bird. Aonung walked close to youâso close your shoulders occasionally brushed.
When you reached the entrance to your home, he handed you your basket. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, softening the arrogance into something much more vulnerable.
"I enjoyed the weaving," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Even if the elders are nosy."
You let out a soft giggle, your tail swaying behind you. "They just like to see you doing something that doesn't involve throwing a spear, Aonung."
You looked up at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. You wanted to say more. You wanted to ask him why he had really come, why he had looked at you like that over the leather strips, but the words felt too big for your throat.
"Thank you for walking me," you said instead, giving him a shy, radiant smile. "And for the help today."
"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispered.
You turned to go inside, your mind racing, but just as you reached the curtain, you looked back. He was still standing there, a dark silhouette against the silver water, watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You waved a small, hesitant hand, and he nodded once before turning to melt into the shadows of the village.
As you stepped inside your marui and set your basket down, you felt a strange sense of completion. You didn't know yet that tomorrow, he would find you by the shore and press a cold, woven necklace into your handâa gift of blue teardrop pearls, starlight and the talon of a reef bird to match his own, woven by the hands of a warrior who had finally found something worth holding onto more than his pride.
The golden hour in Awaâatlu was more than just a time of day; it was a transformation of the world. The Great Mother seemed to hold her breath as the sun, a bloated and magnificent orb of molten fire, dipped toward the horizon. It bled a palette of impossible colorsâburning amber, bruised plum, and a liquid gold that turned the surface of the ocean into a shimmering mirror of fire.
The air was heavy and warm, carrying the sweet, intoxicating scent of the night-blooming flora from the shoreline and the sharp, clean tang of salt spray. It was the kind of evening that felt permanent, as if the universe had paused just to witness the transition from the frantic energy of the day to the bioluminescent peace of the night.
You were wading in the waist-deep water near the village docks, the cool, rhythmic lap of the tide a soothing balm against your skin. Today, you had finally unraveled your hair from its tight, intricate ceremonial braids. Without the weight of the beads and the structure of the weave, your hair felt immenseâa thick, wild sea of curls that cascaded over your shoulders and floated atop the water like dark, silken kelp. You felt free, untethered, and entirely at peace.
Beside you, Tsireya was a picture of effortless grace. She was humming a soft, melodic tuneâa song the Metkayina used to call the spirit of the waterâas she moved through the shallows. In her hands, she held a woven basket of small, silvery fish. With practiced ease, she tossed them one by one to a group of young ilus that had gathered around you both.
The creatures were in a playful mood, their chattering clicks and whistles vibrating through the water. One particularly bold calf nudged its snout against your hip, nearly knocking you off balance. You laughed, the sound bright and clear in the evening air, as you reached down to stroke its smooth, rubbery skin.
"They are hungry tonight," you remarked, your fingers tracing the glowing patterns on the ilu's flank. "And very demanding."
Tsireya smiled, her eyes crinkling with warmth. "They know who has the best spirit, ma tsmuke. They can feel that you are at rest today."
But as the words left her lips, her gaze drifted past you, toward the pale curve of the shoreline. Her expression shiftedâa mischievous, knowing glint entering her eyes that made your heart do a sudden, unprompted hop. "It seems we are not the only ones drawn to the water tonight," she murmured, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone.
You followed her gaze, squinting against the blinding gold of the setting sun. There, standing at the edge of the tide where the sand met the surf, was Aonung.
He looked different than he had in the weavers' pavilion or during the frantic races on the reef. Gone was the loud-mouthed warrior, replaced by someone who looked uncharacteristically hesitant. He was standing perfectly still, his hands tucked behind his back, his tail giving a sharp, rhythmic flick that betrayed his internal nerves. He was watching youânot with his usual smirk, but with an intensity that felt heavy, even from a distance.
He seemed to be contemplating his next move, caught in a moment of rare indecision. From where you stood, you couldn't see the sweat on his palms or the way his heart was hammering against his ribs, but you could see the way he looked at you. To Aonung, you were the center of the world. The golden light caught the curve of your neck, the wild tumble of your hair, and the way your woven top rested perfectly against your skin. You were a vision of everything he had been working toward for weeks.
Tsireya, never one to let her brother suffer in silence, cupped her hands around her mouth. "Aonung! Are you waiting for the tide to go out, or are you going to join us?"
The shout broke his trance. You saw him jump slightly, his ears pinning back in a flash of visible panic. He looked around as if hoping a rogue akula might appear to give him an excuse to leave, but when he realized he was trapped, he squared his shoulders. With a deep breath that expanded his broad chest, he began to wade out into the water.
His movements were slow, deliberate. As he drew closer, the water rippling around his strong legs, the playful chattering of the ilus seemed to fade into the background. There was a gravity to his approach that made the air feel thick.
"Tsireya," he said stiffly as he reached the two of you, offering his sister a curt nod. Then, his eyes locked onto yours, and the rest of the world simply ceased to exist for him. "Y/N."
Tsireya didn't miss the way his gaze lingered on your hair, or the way your own tail was twitching beneath the surface. She let out a soft, knowing giggle. "I believe the ilus by the maruiâs are feeling neglected," she announced, already turning to swim away. "Do not be a bore, Aonung. Try to use your words."
She disappeared into the golden glare, leaving the two of you in a pocket of profound, charged silence. The water swirled between you, the rising heat of his body radiating through the cooling evening air.
"You look..." Aonung started, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, deepening it to regain his composure. "Your hair. It is different."
"I took the braids out," you said, feeling a sudden, shy heat rise in your cheeks. You reached up to brush a damp curl from your face. "Do you like it?"
"I... yes. very much," he breathed, his eyes traveling over every feature of your face.
The moment felt fragile, like a piece of spun glass. Aonung took a half-step closer, his large frame towering over you, blocking out the sun and surrounding you in his shadow. He reached into the small pouch at his waist, his movements slow and reverent.
"I have been thinking," he began, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in your chest. "I have been courting you for a while now. It has been... a process. But I think I am finally ready to present you with this."
He held out his hand. Lying across his broad, calloused palm was the necklace he had labored over in the pavilion.
In the dying light of the sun, it was breathtaking. The green woven kelp-leather was vibrant and rich, a testament to the patience you had taught him. At the center hung the reef bird talon, polished until it gleamed like a piece of dark glass, a perfect mirror to the one he wore himself. But it was the additions that made your breath catchâtrailing along the weave were small, blue teardrop pearls. They were the exact shade of the pearls you wore in your hair, shimmering with an iridescent light that spoke of the deep ocean.
"Aonung," you whispered, your fingers ghosting over the talon. "Itâs beautiful. Itâs perfect."
"I wanted it to be right," he said, his ears perking up at your praise. "I wanted it to match you. To show that I see you."
You were staring at the intricate knots, moved beyond words, but then his earlier phrasing finally clicked in your mind. You looked up at him, your brow furrowing in genuine, sweet confusion. "Wait... what did you just say?"
Aonung blinked, his confident posture wavering. "I said I wanted it to match you?"
"No, before that," you said, your head tilting to the side. "The part about... courting?"
Aonungâs ears did a slow, dramatic droop. His mouth fell open, and for a moment, he looked entirely lost. "Yes. Courting. The gifts? The rare shells from the trench? The racing every afternoon? The fact that I have sat through three weaver's circles just to be near you?"
You blinked back at him, your mind racing through the memories of the past weeks. To you, it had been a series of fun, increasingly close moments with a friend who was finally softening. "I thought you were just... being helpful? I thought we were becoming very, very good friends, Aonung."
Aonung looked like he wanted to throw himself into the surf. He groaned, a long, dramatic sound of exasperation, and threw his hands up in the air. "Very good friends? Y/N, that was courting. My presence at your side every waking hour for the past fourteen sun-cycles just to be very good friends?"
He paced a small, frustrated circle in the waist-deep water, his tail splashing the surface. "Did you think I was doing that for Lo'ak? You truly didn't know? After everything?"
The heat in your face was now a full, violet flush. Looking back at the intensity in his eyes, the way he always stood a little too close, the way he had essentially become your shadowâit was so blindingly obvious that you felt like a fool.
"Well... now that I think about it," you murmured, a sheepish, radiant smile spreading across your lips. "I guess it was a bit more than 'friendly' behavior."
Aonung stopped his pacing and looked at you, his frustration melting into a look of pure, helpless affection. ""I am courting a girl who is as blind as a cave-fish," he muttered to himself, though the corner of his mouth was twitching.
"I'm sorry!" you giggled, stepping into his space until your chests were nearly touching. "But I accept. The gift... and the suitor."
Aonungâs breath hitched. "I see you, Y/N"
"I see you, Aonung"
You took the necklace from his hand, the weight of it a physical promise. You moved closer, stepping up onto your tippy-toes in the swirling water to reach him. You wrapped your arms around his thick neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. Aonung didn't hesitate this time; his large arms surged around you, pulling you flush against his warm, damp skin. He held you with a strength that made you feel entirely safe, his heart hammering a frantic, joyous rhythm against your own.
In the distance, Tsireya watched from the sully Marui with loâak, her heart full as she saw the two of you silhouetted against the last sliver of the sun. It was done.
You pulled back just enough to look at him. "Will you help me put it on?"
Aonungâs hands were trembling as he took the leather cord. You turned around, lifting the heavy, curly mass of your hair to expose the nape of your neck. You felt the cool touch of the pearls against your skin, and then the feather-light, reverent brush of his fingers as he secured the clasp.
When you turned back to face him, the necklace sat perfectly against your collarbone, the blue pearls glowing in the twilight. Aonung reached out, his thumb grazing your jawline, his gaze darkening with a sudden, heavy intensity.
"Y/N," he breathed, his hand sliding into the curls at the back of your head to pull you closer.
You didn't wait for him to ask. You leaned in, closing the distance, and then his lips were on yours.
The kiss was everything the last few weeks had beenâintense, sweet, and deep like the ocean. It tasted of salt and the warmth of the sun. Aonung groaned low in his throat, his other hand splaying across your back to hold you as if heâd never let go. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, the world around you dissolving into nothing but the feel of him and the pulse of the tide.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead stayed against yours. He was breathless, a triumphant, vulnerable smile on his face. "Now," he whispered. "Do you still think we are just 'very good friends'?"
You laughed, pulling him back down for another kiss. "No, maybe best friends."
âlemme put it in baby, câmon.â paulâs lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck with every word. he mouths hotly against your pulse, as if heâs struggling not to sink his canines into your flesh. he feels like such a fucking leech. every instinct in his shapeshifting body is telling him to claim, claim, claim.
he pants like a mutt when he grinds his bulge against you. the only thing stopping him from slipping inside being his cargo shorts and your cotton panties. he can smell your essence, your arousal, your sweet fucking slick. yet youâre still teasing him. denying him of what he wants, what he needs. his whole body aches for you.
his body hovers above you. his visibly strong arms supporting him, so he doesnât crush you with his weight. your legs are wrapped loosely around his hips, giving him access to your sweet heat. his supernatural warmth encompasses your half naked body, the worn t-shirt and underwear starting to feel like too many layers.
when you teasingly roll your hips back into his, he lets out a full body shudder. he full on moans into your neck, the sound going straight into your ear. his hand clenches your sheets into a fist so hard, you can hear the fabric rip on the corners of the bed. itâs like a new wave of desperation washes over him.
âcâmon pretty,â paul pants against your jaw. the hardness of his boner presses on your cloth-covered clit deliciously when he gives another roll of his hips. despite feeling good, the friction isnât enough. he trails kisses up to your lips and huffs like heâs already fucking you.
âyou want me.â he says it like heâs trying to convince himself more than you. his lips brush yours as he speaks in a mumbly tone, âplease, baby. just say yes. lemme make you feel good..â
he shifts so his knees support his weight and he can grope at your body freely with his large hands. they slide under the hem of your baggy, sleep shirt, and immediately find purchase on your waist. his calloused palms tickle your skin as they slide up and down your torso, occasionally squeezing at your curves. he loves your body. healthy and warm. all his. his to protect and love and worship. his mate.
his hands slide up to your chest, groping eagerly at your bare breasts from under your sleep-shirt. he leans down so his front is covering yours once more and collides your mouths together. soft, needy sounds travel from his mouth to yours, as the kiss progressively gets more and more heated. he needs you. why are you teasing him like this?
âcâmon, câmon..â he whispers into the kiss. his lips part desperately against yours while you kiss him back with just as much fervor. he swipes his thumbs over your nipples, while his hot tongue dances around with yours. heâs trying to do anything to convince you.
by the time the kiss breaks, paul is panting hotly against your lips. his eyes are lidded with need, and heâs rock hard against your core.
âplease?â he pleads once more. thereâs broken tone to his voice and his brows are furrowed with desperation. he nudges his nose against yours affectionately, his heart beating a mile a minute. all it takes is one single nod of your head, to have paul flipping you over onto your hands and knees. he practically rips your cotton underwear off, with promises to please his mate.
âł ahh this is so ooc, sorry đ this is my first time writing something other than headcannons, plus i havenât written anything since october last year. pls excuse the bad quality :( and remember requests are always open!
By the third hour of the meeting, scrolls were littered the long table and tea had gone cold hours ago. Ministers droned on about trade disputes and naval routes while the sunset bled orange through the palace windows and despite being the Fire Lord, Zuko had paid attention to almost none of it because his daughter was asleep on his chest.
She had started the meeting in your arms, warm and fussy after feeding, but the second Zuko held out his hands for her, she settled immediately. Now she rested against him in a tiny bundle of crimson silk, cheek squished against the dark fabric of his robes while her small fist clung weakly to his collar.
The sight alone had nearly killed you the first time you saw it months ago.
One hand supported her back while the other rested protectively over her tiny body, thumb absentmindedly stroking slow patterns whenever she stirred. The entire room stopped breathing when she made the faintest little whine in her sleep. Zuko gently bounced the baby once against his chest, his voice quiet and soft.
âItâs alright.â Once she settled again, he lifted his eyes back toward the minister.
ââŠContinue.â
You sat beside him quietly, watching him from the corner of your eye while pretending to listen to the meeting. Truthfully, you were exhausted. Motherhood has changed a lot. Your body still aches some days, sleep came in fragments now and you couldnât remember the last time youâd eaten a meal without interruption.
But then moments where Zuko looked at your daughter like she hung the moon itself in the sky happened and it was all worth it. The meeting dragged on another hour before the final advisor finally bowed.
âThat concludes todayâs reports, Fire Lord.â Zuko nodded once dismissing them.
The room emptied out and you were met with silence finally. Zuko leaned back heavily in his chair with a long exhale.
âShe survived her first council meeting,â he murmured quietly to the baby.
âI think she handled it better than some of the ministers.â You laughed softly, stretching your arms above your head as tension left your shoulders.
âHm.â he looked down at her with ridiculous seriousness.
âShe has better judgment.â You leaned toward him slowly, unable to stop smiling. The candlelight painted gold across his scarred face and his hair had come loose during the meeting, dark strands falling over tired amber eyes.
He looked exhausted but peaceful. You brushed your fingers lightly over the babyâs soft hair.
âShe slept almost the entire time.â you cooed at her
âShe likes being near me.â he responded
âShe likes warmth.â you snorted.
At first, after sheâd been born, heâd been terrified to hold her. You still remembered the way his hands shook the first time the midwives placed her in his arms.
âWhat if I hurt her?â he asked quietly.
You had almost cried hearing it.
Because he held her as if she was too precious to touch. And sometimes you caught him pacing the nursery in the middle of the night whispering little stories to her when he thought you were asleep. Your heart ached just thinking about it. He looks at you with a softened look in his eye.Â
âWhat?â you asked carefully.
His thumb brushed across the babyâs back once.
âWe should have another one.â
You stared at him in disbelief.
ââŠAnother what?âÂ
âBaby.âÂ
âYou are currently holding a baby.â you blinked slowly.
âYes.â he nodded
âAnd you want another one.â
âYes.â
âZuko.â
âIâm serious.â His lips twitched slightly at your tone.
You laughed in disbelief, âI just carried this one for nine months.â
âAnd you did beautifully.â
âThat is not the point.â
âYouâre a wonderful mother.âÂ
Your face warmed. âThatâs still not the point.â
âI didnât know I could feel like this,â he admitted quietly.
You leaned your head against his shoulder gently, exhaustion melting into warmth, your daughter sleeping peacefully between you both. Zuko turned his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss against your temple.
âOne more,â he murmured again.
You groaned and rolled your eyes.
âOh my spirits, you are unbelievable.â
âI think she needs a sibling.â
âShe can barely hold her own head up.â
âSheâll learn,â he said, raising his brow.Â
âThat is not how this works.â you breathe out.Â
Zukoâs shoulders shook slightly with quiet laughter before he looked at you again with a more serious expression
âYou know,â he said softly, âseeing you hold her for the first time⊠I donât think Iâve ever loved anyone the way I loved you at that moment.â
Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes burned with tears.Â
âYou cannot say things like that after asking me for another baby.âÂ
âWhy not?â he asks while giving your daughter a kiss on the crown of her head.
aang using his airbending to create soft currents against your pussy during a council meeting. so you're trying hard not to squirm, your body flushed and slightly trembling as gentle air caresses your folds with delicate suction around your swollen clit.
when asked a question, your voice falters when the air takes a more solid shape to press against your slick hole. you nod quickly when a council member asks if you're okay, recovering to the best of your abilities. you try to shoot aang a stern look but he's not even looking at you, too busy pretending to be the most innocent person in the room as he renders you breathless.
when a firm push of air stretches your cunt wide, filling you deeply, you choke and close your eyes tightly. your thighs clench around it, hands curling into fists on top of your lap as you draw in a deep breath.
the meeting is due to go on for another thirty minutes.
the avatar's girl âËđđËâ aang x reader
âËđđËâ synopsis: ember island always holds surprises, and this time it's no different when aang surprises you with how jealous he can get.
âËđđËâ content warningsïŸtags: very suggestive, fem!reader, jealous!aang, established relationship, bickering, possessiveness, ass grabbing, neck biting, hickeys, light hair pulling, marking, overstimulating, lowercase intended, not proofread
âËđđËâ author's note: i think aang is my new muse lmao!! i'm still learning how to write him, as i'm not confident with how i characterize him. but i love him so much, and he's my absolute favorite to write! <33
the sun over ember island was relentless, but for once, it didnât feel like a burden.Â
it was a burning, golden heat that soaked through aangâs skin and settled deep into his bones, melting away the tight knots of tension that had lived in his shoulders for months. back in republic city, every breath he took felt like it belonged to a hundred different peopleâcouncil members, builders, acolytes who bowed too low and looked at him like he was a statue instead of a person. here, the only thing he owed anyone was a decent pass in beach volleyball.
he stood on the sand, toes digging into the warm, white grains, and let out a long, slow exhale. it was strange to be an adult and still feel that same giddy buzz in his chest heâd had as a kid. the war was a lifetime ago, a heavy shadow that had finally receded into the background of history, leaving him with this: a quiet afternoon, the smell of salt spray, and the sound of his friends laughing. he didn't have to be the bridge between worlds today. he was just a guy on vacation with the people he loved.
the ocean air was crisp, carrying the distant scent of charcoal and roasting sea-prunes from a nearby vendor. aang watched appa lounging in the shallow surf, the massive sky bison letting out a low, rumbling groan of contentment as the waves lapped against his fur. it was perfect. his mind, usually a cluttered mess of treaties and air nomad restoration plans, felt completely still. he felt lighter than he had in years, as if the gravity of the world had finally decided to give him a break.
"zuko, check this out!" aang shouted, breaking his own peaceful silence. he shifted his weight, his feet carving arcs in the sand as he moved through a firebending form heâd been practicing. it was a dragon dance variation, fluid and bright. he punched the air, sending two spiraling ribbons of flame into the sky that twisted together like braids before dissipating into orange sparks.
zuko was sitting on a nearby rock, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression fixed in that familiar, stony scowl that had barely changed since they were sixteen. he didn't even blink as the fire scorched the air inches from his line of sight. "your footwork is sloppy," zuko muttered, his voice dry and bored. "you're overextending your lead hand. youâre showing off, not bending."
aang puffed out his cheeks, his brows drawing together in a mock pout. "iâm not showing off, i'm expressing my joy through the medium of combustion! plus, that spiral was perfectly symmetrical. admit it, youâre impressed."
"i'm moderately annoyed," zuko corrected, though the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. he adjusted his position, his eyes drifting away from aang's fire and toward the spot where you were lying out on a towel.
you were a few yards away, eyes closed, soaking up the afternoon rays. the sun turned your skin into something glowing and warm, and you looked so peaceful that aang felt a fresh wave of affection hit him. he started to turn back to his forms, wanting to try a more complex kick, but he noticed zukoâs eyes narrow. his brow furrowed, a sharp crease forming between his eyes as he stared past aang.
aang tilted his head, following zukoâs gaze. two guys had approached your towel. they were typical ember island typesâbroad shoulders, deep tans, and expensive-looking silk trunks. they were standing over you, blocking your sun, and you were sitting up now, blinking against the brightness. your expression was one of mild confusion, your head tilted as they spoke to you.
"hey there," one of the guys said, his voice carrying easily over the sound of the waves. he had a wide, confident smirk that looked like it had been practiced in a mirror. "don't think we've seen you around this part of the beach before. you from the city?"
you smiled, that polite, friendly smile you gave to everyone. "just visiting for the week," you told them, rubbing the back of your neck. "the water's great today, isn't it?"
the second guy leaned in, his eyes scanning you in a way that made aangâs stomach do a weird, uncomfortable flip. "the water's fine, but the view up here is way better," he drawled, his voice dripping with an obvious, oily charm. "that's a great bikini, by the way. color really suits you."
you laughed, a small, genuine sound, and thanked them. you started chatting with them about the local shops, oblivious to the way they were looming over you, their intentions written in every hungry look they exchanged. to you, they were just locals being nice. to aang, they were two guys who were very clearly trying to take something that wasn't theirs to take.
aang felt a prickle of heat beneath his skin that had nothing to do with the sun. he turned back to zuko, his eyes wide and frantic. "zuko, what are they doing? they're talking to her. theyâreâtheyâre doing the thing, aren't they? the flirting thing?"
zuko let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. "yes, aang. they are very obviously hitting on your girlfriend. itâs not exactly subtle."
"well, what do i do?" aang hissed, his hands flying up to grip his own head. "do i go over there? do i blow them away with a gust of air? no, thatâs too aggressive. do i just... walk by and casually mention that i'm the avatar? no, that's arrogant. help me out here, you're the one who grew up in the fire nation! whatâs the ember island protocol for this?"
zuko looked at him like he was a particularly dim-witted turtle-duck. "just go over there and be a person, aang. stand next to her. remind her you exist. itâs not a military maneuver."
"i can't just 'be a person'!" aang whispered-shouted, his face flushing a bright, embarrassed pink. "itâs weird! if i go over there now, i'll look like i'm hovering. i don't want to be a hovery boyfriend. but look at them! the tall one just touched her arm! heâs touching her, zuko!"
"then go stop him," zuko snapped, though he made no move to get up himself. "or don't. but quit vibrating. youâre making the sand jump."
"you're useless at advice," aang grumbled, his heart hammering against his ribs as he watched you laugh at another one of their jokes. "honestly, how did you ever get mai to date you? did you just scowl at her until she gave in?"
zukoâs eyes flashed with annoyance. "we are not talking about me. we are talking about you and your complete lack of social backbone. either go claim your territory or shut up and let me tan in peace."
aang opened his mouth to retort, his face flushing a deeper shade of scarlet that matched the trim of his air nomad robes, but he was cut off by a heavy arm dropping over his shoulders. sokka stood there, looking far too smug for his own good, with his other arm slung casually around sukiâs waist. he was holding a half-eaten skewer of grilled squid, gesturing with it toward the two guys hovering over your towel.
"i hate to say it, buddy, but the fire lord is right," sokka said, taking a loud, aggressive bite of his snack. "youâre letting those guys move in on your perimeter. theyâre basically planting their flag on your beachhead while youâre over here playing with matches. itâs embarrassing for the whole team, really."
zuko rolled his eyes so hard he practically groaned, leaning back against his rock. suki, however, leaned forward, giving aang a look that was less judgmental and more filled with genuine pity. she saw the way his fingers were twitching, the way his gray eyes kept darting back to you as you laughed at something the blonde guy said.
"ignore him, aang," suki said softly, reaching out to pat his arm. "you don't need to be aggressive. but you should probably go over there and just remind them who you are to her. be confident. youâve faced much worse. two guys in silk shorts shouldn't make you sweat this much."
aang huffed, kicking at a mound of sand. "i know! i don't know why i'm so jumpy. people flirt with me all the time, and usually, i just laugh it off. itâs just... theyâre so close to her. and theyâre looking at them like theyâre a prize or a trophy."
the feeling in his chest was a strange, hot pressure. he was used to being the center of attention, used to being the avatar, but seeing you being targeted by that specific kind of predatory charm made his air feel thin. he wasn't a mean personâthe monks had taught him about detachment and peaceâbut those lessons felt miles away whenever someone elseâs eyes stayed on you for too long. he felt less like a master of four elements and more like a nervous kid who didn't want to lose his favorite person.
finally, aang took a breath, puffing out his chest and trying to channel some of that earthbending stubbornness toph was always yelling at him about. he started walking, his feet heavy in the sand, moving with a purpose that felt forced and natural all at once. as he got closer, his enhanced hearing picked up the blonde guyâs voice.
"look, there's this bonfire tonight at the cove," the guy was saying, leaning down further so he was practically in your personal space. "lots of music, lots of drinks. youâd be the star of the night. why don't you let us pick you up around eight?"
aang didn't wait for your answer. he moved with a sudden burst of speed, his hand reaching out to grab your arm and gently, but firmly, pulling you up from the towel. you let out a little gasp of surprise, stumbling against him, and his other hand immediately dropped down, landing squarely and heavily on your ass. his fingers curled slightly, a possessive grip that sent a shock through your system.
"hey there!" aang chirped, his voice bright and airy, though his eyes were sharp as flint. he turned a beaming, thousand-watt smile toward the two guys, who both straightened up, looking startled by his sudden appearance. "sorry to interrupt! i hope my girlfriend hasn't been boring you with stories about the city."
before you could even get a word outâbefore you could ask why his hand was currently squeezing your backside in broad daylightâaang leaned in. his hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs pressing into your cheeks, and he pulled you into a kiss that was anything but his usual sweet, chaste affection.
it was long. it was dramatic. it was an ownership statement written in the language of breath and heat. he tasted of the salt air and the lingering warmth of the sun, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips with a hunger that made your toes curl into the sand. he tilted your head back, exposing the line of your throat to the two strangers, making sure they saw exactly how you melted into him. his heart was hammering against your chest, a frantic thud that betrayed his nerves even as he dominated the space. your brain felt like it was short-circuiting, your hands coming up to clutch at his bare chest for balance as the world narrowed down to the feeling of his mouth on yours.
when he finally broke apart, he didn't let go of you. he kept you tucked into his side, his hand returning to its firm grip on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin. you were dazed, your lips swollen and your eyes wide with confusion. "aang, whatâ"
"a party?" aang cut you off, looking back at the two guys who were now looking a bit less confident. "that sounds like a blast! my friends and i were just looking for something to do tonight. we can all go together, right? the more the merrier!"
he forced his smile to stay wide, but he was glaring at them over his cheeks, his eyes narrowed into slits of gray ice. the tall guy cleared his throat, shifting his weight. "uh, yeah. sure. everyone's welcome. weâll... see you there, i guess."
"great! can't wait!" aang said, his voice dripping with a cheerfulness that felt like a threat.
the guys took the hint, mumbles of "see ya" following them as they quickly made their exit. the moment they were out of earshot, aangâs smile dropped. he didn't even look at you; he just grabbed your wrist and started dragging you toward the path that wound up toward zukoâs massive beach house.
"aang! stop! what is wrong with you?" you protested, digging your heels into the sand to try and slow him down. "and what was that back there? you were being so weird!"
"i wasn't being weird," he snapped, his voice low with a tension youâd rarely heard from him. he didn't slow down, leading you toward the house. "i was being thorough. they didn't get the hint, so i had to give it to them."
"thorough? you practically marked me!" you shouted as you reached the stairs of the house. you wrenched your arm away, standing your ground on the porch. "those guys were just being friendly, aang. they were inviting me to a party. there was no reason to go all... intense on them. it was embarrassing!"
aang spun around, his face flushed and his eyes blazing. the air around him began to swirl in sympathetic agitation, a small dust devil forming at his feet. "friendly? you think that was friendly? they were looking at you like you were a piece of meat! they were flirting with you right in front of me! and you were just smiling and laughing along like you didn't even care!"
"i didn't notice they were flirting!" you yelled back, stepping into his space. "i thought they were being nice! and even if they were, so what? don't you trust me?"
"of course i trust you!" aang cried, his voice cracking slightly with the sheer weight of his emotion. he dragged you through the front door and slammed it shut, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. "i don't trust them! i don't trust the way they looked at you. i don't trust the way they thought they could just walk up and take your attention away from me. you're mine. youâre with me."
the bickering continued as he pushed you toward the stairs. he was pacing back and forth in the hallway, his hands flying through the air as he ranted about the "disrespect" and the "audacity" of the locals. he looked so young when he was angry, his eyes wide and wild, but the power behind his voice was all man.
"you have no idea how it feels," he hissed, not meaning to pin you against the wall near the top of the staircase. he wasn't trying to be scary, he just looked desperate. he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "to have the whole world always wanting a piece of me, and then to finally have one thing thatâs just for me... and then see some random guys try to touch it? no. absolutely not. i won't let them."
you tried to speak, but he silenced you by resting his forehead against yours. he was shaking, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. his hand reached out, his fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place not with force, but with a need so deep it felt spiritual.
"youâre the avatarâs girl," he whispered, his voice thick with a raw possessiveness that sounded more like a plea than a command. "and you better not forget it. i'm not sharing you with anyone. not today, not at some party, and not ever. i can't, i just can't."
without another word, he gripped your waist and practically hauled you toward the master bedroom, the door clicking shut behind you as he pulled you into his space. the sound of the latch was a final, heavy punctuation mark on the argument outside. aang didn't let go of you for even a second; he moved with that fluid, airbender agility that always made it feel like he was gliding, even when his footsteps were heavy with frustration.
you almost fell flat on your back as aang gently but firmly pushed you toward the center of the bed. you hit the soft mattress with a small bounce, your breath leaving you in a surprised puff. the yellow silk sheets felt cool against your sun-warmed skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off of him.
"aang, stop!" you squealed, half-laughing and half-breathless as you tried to sit up. "weâre going to get sand everywhere! zuko will kill us if he has to hire someone to deep-clean the upholstery because we were too impatient."
aang didn't even pause. he hovered over you, his knees sinking into the mattress on either side of your hips, his shadow falling over you like a protective cloak. he dismissed your concern with a flick of his wrist, his eyes never leaving yours. "let him be mad," he muttered, his voice sounding deeper and raspier than usual. "iâll earthbend it away afterwards. i'll bend every single grain of sand out of this house if i have to. but right now, i don't care about the floor."
he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a quick, bruising kiss that tasted of urgency. it was over before you could even respond, his lips trailing down your jawline with a desperate kind of hunger. he found the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.
you giggled, the vibration of it traveling through your chest as your arms wrapped instinctively around his neck. your fingers tangled in the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. "you really shouldn't be so jealous, you know," you whispered, your voice softening as you felt the tension in his shoulders start to bleed into something more primal. "youâve got me wrapped around your finger, aang. you're my favorite person. those guys don't even exist to me."
aang let out a low, muffled groan against your skin, his lips never leaving your neck. he pouted, a small, stubborn sound escaping his throat that was almost a whine. he was being kinda pathetic, clinging to you like he was afraid youâd evaporate into spirit-smoke if he loosened his grip. he began to suck at the soft skin near your collarbone, a persistent, rhythmic pressure that made your head tilt back.
"i don't like sharing," he murmured, his voice vibrating against your throat. "i have to share my time, my energy, my bending... i have to share everything with the world. i just want to keep one thing for myself. is that so wrong?"
he was being needy, his possessiveness manifesting in the way he kept his weight pressed firmly against you, pinning you to the bed. you felt a sharp, sudden sting of a hickey forming, and you let out a small gasp, your hands moving to his chest to lightly push him back.
"aang! stop, you're giving me marks," you scolded, though there was no real heat in it. "everyone will see! weâre supposed to go to that party later, remember? i can't exactly hide that with my dresses."
aang didn't pull away. instead, he became even more handsy, his touch wandering with a boldness that was usually reserved for the dark of night. one of his hands slid up, his palm cupping your tit through the thin, damp fabric of your bikini top. his thumb brushed against you, a slow movement that made your breath hitch. his other hand was already busy, his fingers hooking into the side of your bikini bottoms, tugging at the string with a focused intent.
he looked up at you then, his gray eyes dclouded with a mixture of lingering jealousy and overwhelming adoration. he watched your reaction, his chest heaving as he worked the fabric down your hips.
"good," aang said, his voice dropping into a gravelly promise that sent a shiver straight to your core. he paused for a second, his gaze sweeping over the marks heâd already left on your skin, his expression turning smug and fiercely satisfied.
he sat back on his heels for a brief moment, his hands moving to the waistband of his beach shorts. he tugged them off with a quick, decisive motion, discarding them somewhere on the sandy floor. he looked back down at you, a slow, complacent grin spreading across his faceâthe look of a man who had finally claimed his territory and had no intention of letting it go.
 "then everyone at the party will know you're my girl. they can look all they want, but they'll know exactly who you're coming home with."
i wanna write a part 2 of this ughgerguiersgheuarg
summary. one night, after a long rehearsal, jungkook lingers in the makeup room.
pairing: idol!jungkook x makeupartist!reader
contains: smut, unprotected sex (cum on stomach)
note: hey guys, i don have much experience writing smut, but we could say i tried my best lol nways enjoy :)
word count: 2.2k
the room was quiet, the loudness of the city could be barely be audible, muffled by the large window as you packed away your brushes for the night. it was past midnight, the clock close to hitting 1 am. the rest of the staffs have left long ago, leaving you alone. you enjoyed the calmness and loneliness after a long day. almost like it gave you a moment to breathe, to come down from the constant rush of keeping up with btsâs eternal busy schedule.
just when you packed everything away and was ready to leave, the door slightly creaked open. you looked up quickly, your heartbeat slowed down when you noticed jungkook poking his head in.
âyou still here?â he asked, his voice was low and rough, his throat must have gone dry from all the practice.
he leaned against the doorframe, his hair sweaty, the sleeves of his black hoodie were pushed up enough to reveal the tattoos on his skin. definitely thatâs the hottest part on his body.
âgotta clean up after your mess,â you teased with a smile, his eyes glanced to the desk. makeup smudged over it, dirty tissues, q-tips, some brushes that you didnât use much anymore were scattered all over it.
he chuckled and stepped inside the room finally, he closed the door behind himself. you heard the click of the lock that made your stomach flip. the room felt more smaller by now, more.. intimate you could say.
âyou sure thatâs all?â his tone was light, almost playful, but when he turned around to look at you, there was something in his eyes â a glint, hinted at the unspoken tension that had been lingering between the two of you for weeks now.
you raised an eyebrow, âwhat else would i be here for?â
a faint smirk got on his lips and he started walking towards you, painfully slowly.
you gulped, his eyes dropped down to your neck for a second, then back to your face. when he got to you, he didnât mutter a single word and just plopped down on the makeup chair.
you frowned, obviously you werenât going to do his makeup at this hour. your eyes followed his hand, smudging the makeup from the table onto his finger, which he smeared on the black sweatpants he wore, on his crotch.
âthink you missed a spot?â he looked up at you with desire in his eyes, his tone playful. you took a deep breath, âwhat?â you muttered with big eyes that stared right back at him, glancing between his eyes and the spot on his pants.
fuck, you could see the shape of it, the makeup matched his skin color, the curiosity of how it looked like made you go feral, all you wanted to do right now is fuck him till you were the one crying, till the shape of his cock was carved into your insides.
the room felt heavy, the air thick with something you couldn't quite place. you walked over to him, his eyes following your every step. you tried to ignore the way your heart sped up under his stare.
you grabbed a wet tissue from the desk, he stood up behind you, his chest pressed against your back. âtell me you feel this too,â
your breath caught in your throat as his words hung in the air between you, thick and heavy. you tried to laugh it off, but your heart betrayed you, thudding loudly in your chest as if it wanted to answer for you. his gaze didnât waver, dark eyes searching your face through the mirror, waiting for a reaction.
you cleared your throat as you focused on the tissue again, wiping the table but the trembling in your hands exposed you.
âfeel what?â your voice was quieter than you intended to, you didnât dare to look up, knowing youâd be faced with his serious, desire full eyes.
âthis, ___.â he sighed and he sneaked his hands on your hips, holding you tightly. your eyes closed, the contact was electric, sending a shiver down your spine.
his skin felt like burning even through the layers of clothes. âthereâs this-â he stopped for a second, frustration started to build up in him.
âthis thing, that i donât know where to put.â you froze, his hands moving up your sides, he stopped at under your breasts. âevery time weâre in the same room, i canât help but to fantasize about you.â
âtell me,â he whispered, his hands went back down, this time on your stomach, his movements stopped at the top of your jeans.
âtell me you feel it too,â he pressed his body closer again, his crotch poked at your ass, his face in the crook of your neck. his eyes focused on you through the mirror. âplease,â he begged and you felt your heart pounding in your chest.
yes! youâd felt it too, â every time he sat down to get his makeup done by you, whenever he opened his eyes to look up at you, every brush of your fingers against his skin, every lingering glances shared across the room.
but for fuckâs sake, youâre his makeup artist! nothing more. you thought maybe heâs just being friendly, protective. had no idea his pretty mind was filled with dirty thoughts about you, but the good way.
he was curious how you looked when you were receiving pleasure, especially from him. he dreamt about you beneath him, wishing he could take you right then and there, in the middle of the room with everyone else around.
he wouldnât have minded, wanted to show everyone itâs him who youâre fucking, itâs him who makes you moan, who makes you scream and cry out his name, not nobody else.
with a shaky breath you finally looked up, your eyes met his in the mirror. âi do,â your hand hovered on his, resting on your stomach. his lips curved into a small, knowing smile. with a swift move he turned you around, body still closer to each other than ever.
his arms slid from your waist, up your arm until he reached the side of your neck. his touch was soft, careful, but the heat from his skin made your body ache with anticipation.
he leaned in, nose touching yours. you were going insane, dizzy from just the thought of whatâs about to happen between the two of you. your hands found their way to his hair, tugging lightly.
you donât know who moved first, â but you both attacked each otherâs lips hungrily, your teeth crashed together. a moan left his mouth at the feeling of your lips on his, the vibration made you press your thighs together.
all the pent-up desire, all the unspoken words between you, came rushing to the surface. his hand tightened on your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, desperate.
he pulled away, a string of saliva between your lips. both of your breathing heavy, chests moving fast.
âyou have no idea how many times iâve imagined this,â he whispered with a smile. one of his hand slid from your neck down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he backed up and sat down on the chair behind him, guiding you down onto his lap.
your forehead was resting against his, âwe shouldnât..â you whispered, his hand moved up to caress your skin and your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch.
his thumb brushed against your lip, âmaybe,â he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. âbut it feels too good.â
he captured your lips again, every move of his mouth sent waves of electricity through you. his hands roamed your body, â your sides, your hips, your back and then finally, his hands slid down to your ass, gripping your cheeks with his huge hands.
you sighed in the kiss, he pulled you even more closer, your heat brushed against his crotch. you melted into him, youâve completely lost control over your body.
he pulled away and a hiss left his mouth when you moved your hips as you slowly grinded on him.
his eyes locked with yours, his bottom lip between his teeth while yours was slightly open. his hands gripped your hips, he helped you move, a little bit faster.
âshit,â he breathed out, his head thrown back in pleasure. your eyes dropped to his neck, veins popped, sweat dripping. you leaned down to plant soft kisses on his skin, a low groan left his lips as he felt yours, nibbling and sucking on his skin.
your hips slowed down, your body grew tired. he lifted his head back only to be met with the scene of you pulling your shirt off over your head.
his eyes fell to your breasts, which were still hidden from his eyes with your black bra. he buried his face in your chest, kissing on the top of your breasts while his hand carefully unclasped your bra.
it slid down your shoulders, all the way to where your body met his. he threw the unneeded clothing away, his palms massaging your breasts.
âso pretty,â he whispered and you looked down. âi think theyâre small,â he chuckled at your confession.
he shook his head with a smile, âno, theyâre just perfect.â he gave you no time to respond as his lips captured your perky left nipple. he gently slapped the other, massaging it after.
your breath hitched, he sucked and bit on your nipple, pulling away with a smack of his lips. he gave the same attention to your other one, your hips once again grinded against his already hard bulge in his pants.
he pulled away from your chest, his eyes looking up at you with hunger. his fingers gripped your jeans, âletâs take this off, yeah?â
you got up from his lap, he watched you strip the remaining clothes that hid the rest of your body. he took off his clothes himself too, his hand reached out for you to grab.
he pulled you towards him again, helping you sit down on his lap once more.
âare you sure?â he asked as you sat there, skin to skin. you eagerly nodded, you wanted this more than anything, just like him.
âyes,â you moved, your core brushed against his cock. âplease,â you purred, he bit back a moan at the feeling of your bare pussy.
he decided to not waste any time with fingering you first, he knew you needed to get stretched and itâs gonna burn like hell. he put his stupid desire in the first place, but he realized that too late.
with a hand holding his dick and the other guiding your waist, you slowly sank down on him. your body stiffened, you let your head fall down to his chest, your forehead resting against him.
he knitted his eyebrows together, your walls clenching around him made it so hard for him to fully fill you up.
he caressed your back, âyou need to relax,â he whispered and planted a kiss on top of your head. his hand sneaked to your core, his finger rubbed your clit in a circular motion.
he helped you relax your muscles, immediately slipping inside of you easily. a quiet moan left your mouth, you stayed like that for a while. he wanted you to be okay, he cares about you.
âall good?â he asked, your face still in his chest. you nodded, he moved beneath you, he wanted to fuck you like crazy but he put you first, though it was getting hard for him to control his body.
you suddenly rolled your hips, leaving him with an open mouth. âfuck, ___,â he husked, his grip on your waist was firm.
you looked up at him, you rode his dick with all your energy. the room was filled with your low moans and your skin meeting, both of your bodies sweaty and hot.
you got tired, your pace turned slower and your breathing got heavy. unlike him, heâs a singer, so his stamina is far more better than yours.
he slightly lifted you up at your waist, he took over the control now. he pounded into you from beneath, your body arched and you turned into a moaning mess.
you were never that loud in bed, your moans has always been quiet and soft. jungkook got to see a side of you that he never wanted to forget.
he never wants to forget how your brows knitted together, how your mouth fell agape and eyes shut from the pleasure that he was giving you.
he felt you clench around him, his head was thrown back again. he let out a low grunt as he fastened his pace, hitting every right spot. your body tensed, your walls tight around him which made him hiss.
he felt you release around his cock as he fucked you through it, âalmost there,â he heavily breathed out, trying to reach his own orgasm too.
he pulled out and pumped himself as he released his cum on your stomach, his eyes were tightly shut, letting every drop of him on your skin.
being the fire lord is easy. controlling a two-year-old with the hiccups? thatâs the real challenge.
content: pure fluff, d/n= daughterâs name, girl dad & husband fire lord!zuko x wife reader
the sun was just beginning to dip behind the jagged peaks surrounding the fire nation capital, casting a warm orange glow over everything that matched the rich tapestries hanging in the private royal quarters. you were sitting on a thick rug, trying to neatly fold a basket of silks, while zuko sat at his low desk nearby, buried under a growing pile of scrolls that never seemed to get any smaller, even after years of him being the fire lord.
d/n was wobbling around the room, her little feet thumping against the floorboards as she chased a stray butterfly. she was wearing a miniature version of the traditional crimson robes, which made her look like a tiny, round ember.
"mama! look! i catch it!" she chirped, her voice high and stumbling over the words as she lunged for the butterfly on the wall.
you smiled, pausing your folding to watch her. "you almost got it, baby. keep trying."
zuko let out a heavy sigh from his desk, dropping his brush. he rubbed the bridge of his nose, but when he looked over at d/n, his expression softened instantly. the golden light hit his scar, and for a moment, he didn't look like the most powerful man in the world; he just looked like a tired dad.
"she has too much energy today," zuko murmured, leaning back in his chair. "maybe i should take her out to the turtle-duck pond before dinner."
just as he said that, d/n stopped in her tracks. her little shoulders suddenly hitched upward, and she hiccuped.
a tiny, bright orange spark popped out of her mouth, fizzling out before it even hit the air. her eyes went wide, and she looked at you with a confused pout. "uh oh," she whispered.
you felt a pang of worry mixed with amusement. "zuko, the hiccups are back."
"it is fine," zuko said, standing up and walking over to her. "it is just her inner fire reacting to the diaphragm spasms. she is only two, it is perfectly natural for a bender her age." he knelt down and scooped her up, but right as he did, another one hit her.
this time, a bigger puff of fireânot just a sparkâshot forward. it wasn't enough to hurt anyone, but it landed right on the corner of the scroll zuko had been working on. the dry paper ignited instantly, a small flame licking up the side of the page.
"fire! fire!" d/n squealed, pointing at the desk and giggling like it was the funniest thing she had ever seen.
"no, no, no! not that one!" zuko yelped, darting back to the desk. he didn't even use bending to put it out; he just started frantically patting the paper with his bare hands until the flame died, leaving a charred, circular hole right in the middle of a tax report.
you couldn't help it. you burst out laughing, leaning back against the sofa. "well, i think she just gave you a very valid reason to stop working for the night."
zuko looked at the ruined scroll, then at his daughter, who was currently trying to chew on her own hand to stop the next hiccup. he sighed, a small, defeated smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"d/n, we do not burn daddyâs important papers," he said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably because he was busy booping her nose.
"burn it!" d/n repeated proudly, her little chest puffing out. "i do fire, dada! see?"
"yes, i see," zuko laughed, tucking her under his arm like a sack of rice. "you are a very powerful firebender, but maybe we should practice on things that aren't official decrees. like... nothing. let's practice on nothing."
another hiccup shook her tiny body, and a stray spark landed in zukoâs hair. you jumped up, quickly patting it out before it could catch.
"okay, that's it," you said, taking her from him and settling her on your hip. "i think someone needs some water and a nap before she accidentally sets the palace curtains on fire."
"no nap! play!" d/n protested, squirming in your arms.
zuko stepped closer, wrapping his arms around both of you and resting his forehead against yours. the smell of smoke and sandalwood clung to him, and he looked so happy it made your heart ache.
"let her stay up just a little longer," he whispered. "iâll help her control the breath. if she learns to breathe through the hiccups, the fire stops."
"you just want to play with her," you teased, raising an eyebrow.
"maybe," he admitted, grinning as d/n let out one last tiny hiccup that produced nothing but a faint wisp of smoke. "but look at her. sheâs going to be better than me one day."
"she's already got the 'accidental destruction' part down," you joked, kissing his cheek. "just like her father."
summary: aang comes home after a bad council meeting. you help him relieve that stress.
"You're in a bad mood," is what you're planning to say when Aang comes home because he is in a bad mood. It's all over his faceâhis usual sunny disposition has been replaced with a bone-deep tiredness and frustration. A side of him that only appears when his Avatar duties weigh heavily on his shoulders, reminding him that humans can be relentlessly unreasonable.
You want to comfort him; that's your immediate reaction to whenever Aang's feeling anything other than happy. You want to draw him into your arms and hold your ridiculously large husband until he's at ease once more. In fact, you're about to pull him in from the doorway to do just that but Aang takes you by surprise.
His lips slam onto yours, causing you to squeak as he leads you back into the entryway. You faintly hear the door being kicked shut and feel your back hitting the wall, knocking a bit of air from your lungs. Your mouth opens in a gasp, Aang taking the opportunity to lick into it and trace the rows of your teeth with his tongue. The sensation has you shivering, a whimper sounding from your throat as Aang kisses you hardâunforgiving.
You're panting when Aang frees your mouth and begins a journey down your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin to bring forth bruising marks. His hands grip at your hips, squeezing once before he's lifting up the skirts of your dress. He feels the plush of your thighs, itching up towards where it's warmest and your hips jolt at the brush of his knuckles against your covered clit.
"Aang," you gasp, eyes closing tightly as pleasure carves down your spine. "Aaâoh." Your legs part for his hand, back arching when his large palm cups your cunt that steadily grows slick. "Is, ah, everything okay?"
Aang hums, the vibration a spark against your sensitive skin. "Council meeting went badly," he murmurs, licking a line down your neck. "Stupid council elders think they know better but they don't." The palm he has over your cunt squeezes and you bite your bottom lip to suppress a mewl. "Was so angry that I almostâ" He stops himself and takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "I need you. Please, let me have you."
The desperation seeps through, pierces through the frustrations that drove him home and into your waiting arms. The frustrations that immediately made him think of you because he's always said you're his calming balm. That you soothe his soul whenever it becomes too chaotic and overwhelmed, to the point that meditation can't help. He wants you, needs you and you're never one to reject your darling husband anything. Especially if it's yourself.
"You can have me," you tell him softly, allowing him to have you openly, wholly. "You always have me."
A deep groan sounds from Aang's chest, his body bent down so his head is on the swell of your breasts. He breathes in deeply, nods once before his hands are coming to your thighs. You yelp when he lifts you up but wrap your legs around his waist, falling into his kiss that makes you breathless.
With his tongue in your mouth, one of his hands push down his trousers and undergarments to free his aching cock. Then he's pushing the thin strip of your underwear to the side to access your dripping cunt, just enough to sink his way into your warmth.
You tremble at the first press of his tip, eyes fluttering when he begins to push in. He stretches you wide, he always does, but you never get used to the feeling. The heavy weight that has your toes curling, cunt pulsing and thighs tensing in a pleasure that's core deep.
Aang pants quietly, hiding in the crook of your neck as he continues to sink in until his hips are flush against the curve of your ass. He's so deep it shakes you, has you whining when he shifts his hips and the large vein on his cock rubs sweetly against that spot. Your vision blurs slightly, chest heaving and you desperately want him to move because he's so deep and it feels so good.
"Caâcan I?" Aang chokes out, the sweet clench of your cunt quickly becoming his undoing. You nod eagerly, your hands cradling the back of his head as Aang shudders.
"You can," You say shakily, desperately. "Pleaseâ"
Aang drives into you sharply, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix and you cry out, back arching. He continues to thrust into you, his pace mean as his hips punch moans out of your throat. He fucks you swiftly, harshly, like he's trying to draw something sweet out of youâno, like he's trying to bury himself inside of you and it renders you incapable of higher thought.
Depraved noises echo throughout the entryway, a symphony of filth that would have you ashamed if it didn't feel so good. Aang pushes you further into the wall, his hands grasping your hips to angle them upwards so he can sink in somehow deeper andâ
"Oh!" You moan, eyes rolling back because it's like he's in your throat. "Itâyou're tooâah!"
"Spirits, I know," Aang groans, having leaned back a little so he can take you in. His grey eyes completely dark from his arousal and his gaze soul deep and piercing. It makes you feel wonderfully exposed, all your nerves bared for his addicting touch. "You're perfect, ngh, just what I needed, what I always needâ"
It could be called romantic, how that confession is what ends you. What releases the tight coil in your lower stomach and drags your orgasm out with a loud cry that hits. It rips through you, has you pushing against Aang because he doesn't stop fucking you as he knows you love it when it's drawn out. Until you're sobbing, shaking violently in his arms as another crest slams into you mercilessly.
Your end always brings about his, has him pulsing deep within you as he paints your walls white. It shatters him into pieces, his own low cry a tempting sound against your ear that has you milking his cock for everything it has. He shudders against you, his fingers surely leaving bruises on your hipsâbruises that you'll trace when they appear tomorrow morning.
Heavy breathing fills the air, both of you pulling in air as pleasure still thrums through your bodies. Aang leans into you, finding his home in your neck as your arms wrap around him weakly, greedily taking in the mere feel of him.
Then softly, you ask:
"Feeling better?"
Aang nods, breathing in deep the scent of you, finally at ease.
adult aang x reader
warnings: 18+ nsfw, rough sex, aang losing control, avatar state during sex
summary: when aang fucks, he tends to lose his control.
sex with aang was always dangerous.
he was easy to rile up. his body was sensitive to your warmth. what would start off as slow and sleepy sex would turn into something aggressive and rough. he would get lost in the pleasureâusing your body like a sex toy as he let lust cloud both his mind and judgment.
with all the stress and fighting he had to go through dailyâthis, his cock completely sheathed inside your tight, warm pussy, was what he looked forward to the most.
his eyes rolled back, one hand holding the bedframe and the other gripping your hip tight. your thighs were draped over his waist as he fucked you into the mattress.
âa-aang⊠mphhâŠ!â you moaned, your hair pooling around the pillows so pretty as he fucked you.
your body, completely bare for his hungry gaze, bounced with every rough thrust he gave you. the sound of your voiceâsweet as sinâfilled his ears and danced in them.
âfu..fuuuckk..â he moaned, tossing his head back as he got lost in your body.
thatâs when you started to see it.
the blue on his skin began to glow, flickering like a light.
it would go in and out, intensifying with each hard thrust that met your sweet spot. every time you cried out, it would glow even brighter. he would open his eyes to look at you, half lidded and hazy, and his pupils would disappear into a soft light before reappearing again.
âgod.. you feel so tight⊠so warm⊠so delicious,â aang moanedâhis voice distorting slightly.
as you hiked your leg even tighter around his hips, pulling him in deeper, aang cried out in pure, unadulterated bliss.
âoh, god! shitâdonât do thatâfuâfuck⊠hmpp⊠i canât stop, canât fucking stop!â aang cried, his face scrunching in pleasure before he tucked his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as his cock twitched and throbbed inside you.
as your walls clenched down on his cock, the room started to shake.
cracks began to form in the stone wallsâthe bedframe, made of wood, began to sprout branches, making the frame completely unrecognizable as it started bending into twisted versions of roots.
the air around you started to pick up, the wind whistling so hard that you had to shut your eyesâthe window frames slapping from the force of it.
his body started to warm, his tongue heating up as he began licking the sweat off your neck, peppering your throat with hot kisses that made you wince.
the sweat that formed around his forehead started to precipitate into the air. while all of this was happening, he kept fucking you ruthlessly.
the air in the room was a literal whirlwind now, a localized storm of his own undoing.
aangâs grip on your hips became even tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he was getting closer and closer.
âiâmâiâm gonnaâfuck, iâm close!â he snarled, his voice echoing with the haunting, multitonal resonance of his past lives.
the glow from his tattoos became a blinding white that illuminated every corner of the crumbling room.
the wooden roots of the bedframe bended upward, wrapping around your ankles and wrists. he felt like he was burning up, the heat radiating off his bare skin only made the air whirl faster and warp around your bodies.
âlook at me,â he commanded, his voice shaking the room. âi said look at me!â
you forced your eyes open, squinting against the gale. his eyes were twin orbs of pure, celestial light, devoid of pupils and leaking wisps of white energy.
he looked divine and terrifying all at once.
with a hard thrust that made you cry out in pleasure, he buried himself to the brimâstuffing you full of his cock that overwhelmed your sensations enough to make you cum around him.
âoh my godâaang!â
ânow!â he screamed back, his back arching in a violent spasm.
as he came, the window shattered from the force of the air. his seed pumped into you in hot, thick bursts of white cum.
aang slumped onto you, his body heavy and limp, the glow in his tattoos fading back to a dull, stagnant blue. his forehead rested against yours, both of you panting in the sudden silence of the ruined room.
âholy⊠â he whispered, his voice finally human again, shaky and quiet. âdid i⊠did i break the bed again?â
âaang,â you breathed. âyou broke more than just the bed.â
â just fluff. only a little suggestive maybe. I'm going bonkers over this bald guy to the point katsuki stay asking me if i don't live anywhere.
You're reading on the couch when Aang approaches you, a towel around his neck, razor and shaving oil in hand. He gives you a hopeful smile and an expectant look.
"Sure, prickles."
Aang grins and waits for you to sit up before he places the items on the cushion next to you. Then, he uses his finger to relight the extra half-burnt candle on the side table, frowning when he realizes that means you'd only been reading with one tiny candle as your light source.
"I keep telling you not to do that." He sits on the ground, back to you, and when you scoot closer to begin, he grabs your ankle and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee.
"You mean like how I keep telling you to put your dirty clothes in the basket and not next to it?" You secure the small towel around his nape before opening the bottle of shaving oil.
"Uhh."
"That's what I thought; mind your business." You apply a generous amount of the oil to his head before massaging it in; it's an oil you made yourself from jojoba, bergamot, lavender, and chamomile. You created two blends: one for him to relax and one for him to focus, using jojoba, rosemary, peppermint, and lemon.
"Yes, ma'am." He chuckles, soaking up the scent and the feel of your fingers massaging his scalp.
"I'm surprised you let it grow out this much," you say, beginning the first pass with the razor on his head. "It's usually gone at the first sight of brown."
"I know, but you were gone longer than usual, and you know I like when you do it." His thumb dips into the groove near your ankle, head tipping back when you tip his chin up.
"No," you respond, drawing out the final letter. "You just don't like doing it on your own because the hair gets all over you and makes you itchy."
"Isn't that what I said?"
You don't respond, opting to wipe the blades clean before continuing the repetitive motions until his head is clean-shaven. "Let me see your face."
When he turns, his soft gaze sweeps across your face as you inspect him with both your eyes and hands. Before grabbing another razor for his face, you reach for the oil again, coating your fingers and applying it to his chin and upper lip. "I was thinking about keeping the beard, but I can't imagine it being comfortable for you."
"Hm?" You question and when his eyes lid, it clicks.
"Oh, how sweet of you." You drawl and his hands fall to rest on your thighs as you finish your task.
"See? I can be considerate."
You snort a laugh and somehow his eyes soften further, expression open and clearly swooning to the point it makes you flustered.
"Close your eyes." You murmur, averting your gaze as your cheeks begin to warm.
"Why, gonna shave my eyebrows too?" He teases, lips quirking up into a pleased grin.
"I might if you don't quit looking at me like that."
His head tilts as he feigns confusion. "Like what?"
He's looking at you like you're birthing stars rather than just shaving his head and he has the nerve to ask 'like what?'
"Okay, we're done." You lift your hand up to push him away but he's quick to snatch it, encasing it in his palm before pressing kisses from your wrist up to the crook of your elbow.
"Thank you, beloved."
Your heart squeezes at the term of endearment before you lean forward. And, he's eager to meet you in the middle, balm coated lips molding against yours in a soft kiss that has your toes curling in your socks. "You're welcome."
He steps away for a moment before returning with a damp cloth to remove as much residue as possible from your hands. As soon as they're clean enough, you're wrapping them around his shoulders as he wraps his around your middle, pulling you closer and into yet another kiss. "Take a shower with me?" He mumbles against your lips.
"You're gonna be late for your meeting," You warn, but refuse to leave his embrace as he squeezes your hips.
"Y'know, I think I'm coming down with something." When you bite into his bottom lip, he whimpers. "Ow, okay, tonight then." He pecks your lips once, twice, and three times before reluctantly leaving your embrace.
Your gaze follows him to the bathroom, where he slowly strips his shirt over his head, back muscles flexing. He's being extra tempting on purpose, but you won't give in, even though you feel like you're exuding the lust they talk about in the great book. His pants come next, and you're about to give in, take another step, when he suddenly ruins everything.
"AANG, what did I JUST say about putting the clothes in the basket?"
𧧠(MDNI) Firelord Zuko is rather awkward when it comes to his playful wife
Sawrry for the double post, my fyp has been filled with my malewife and I had to try writing for him.
"Am I not good enough to sleep with yet, Firelord Zuko?"
"Tch. I told you not to call me that," your husband murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose.
The wrinkled edges of his scar deepened as he refused to make eye contact with a very exposed you laying on your side. "I'm your husband, not some... some stranger you lay with every night."
"You certainly act like that way. You can't even make look at me in the eye without scowling," you retorted, rolling your eyes and shuffling into a seating position. The silk sheets under your bare knees had twisted as you moved, the man now listening to you tug your robe over yourself.
All whilst keeping his eyes off of you, of course.
Zuko moved around your bedroom, busy doing nothing as a heat bloomed across his cheeks hotter than any fire he could shoot out of his fingers.
He was the Firelord, for God's sake. Why couldn't he face his clearly receptive wife who wished not nothing more than getting intimate with him?
Your voice calling out again interrupted his conflicted thoughts. "I get it what this is about. You don't love me," you sniffled dramatically, turning your back to your husband so that the grin on your face was concealed from sight.
In an instant, he whipped around â eye twitching. "Don'tâ God. don't start. You know that's not true."
When you didn't reply, he shuffled over, scratching the back of his head with a curse. His long hair had been freed a while back, framing the angular contours of his face under the flickering candlelight. Were you really upset?
You turned around once his hot palm met your revealed shoulder, where the robe had slipped off of you somewhat. There, he saw the way your lips were pressed into a tight, thin line.
Ignoring the fullness of your chest to the best of his fading ability, the way it sloped downwards until your nipples poked out from between your robe, he opened his mouth to apologise.
Until your eyes flickered with mirth.
Zuko pushed back, face deadpan. "What is wrong with youâ mmph!"
Your husbands complaints were cut short the moment you tugged him by the arm, obscuring his vision the second he face-planted into your breasts.
Not that he minded, of course â but it was rather difficult for Zuko to do anything when all he had was a mouthful of soft flesh he could barely breathe around.
You stroked his head, carded your fingers through his long hair somewhat lovingly yet scolding all the same. "I didn't know I married a prude. You can fight plenty on the battlefield, so why not in bed?"
"That's not the same," he argued, the flush on his face deepening further when he pulled away. His eyes searched your face, taking in each and every detail he had come to love so dearly.
Indeed, you were beautiful â and it was that exact reason he couldn't face doing anything with you.
It was as if he became overwhelmed with a sudden sense of inadequacy. It was a feeling he struggled to articulate into words, the old habit of resorting to impulsive means threatening to bubble up yet again.
But Zuko swallowed it down, shook his head, and cradled one side of your face. "It's not you. It's me," he began, "am I really worthy ofâ"
You shut the thought down immediately, silencing him with your lips on yours. The peck was brief, yet carried over each and every thought you has for him.
"None of that. When has it ever been like you to talk like this?" You challenged, playfully cocking your head to the side. You dragged his hands down to your breasts, eliciting a faint twitch deep in his undergarments. "That's not the Firelord I married."
Phwump!
"...you're right," Zuko swallowed, regaining a semblance of his confidence back after gently pushing you onto your back. Just about, though â because he was still having difficulty finding it within himself to look into your eyes even whilst looming over you. Once he did, though, he was a goner.
Your husband scanned your entire form, cursing himself for what a fool he had been, missing out on countless nights on getting to know you, your body. "A fool indeed," you echoed, smiling once Zuko realised he had spoken allowed.
"Stop making fun of me," he rumbled, lowering his head to nip at your throat. "I'm not here to be turned into the butt of your jokes."
"You know I'llâ mmh, do it regardless," you cooed breathily. Not once did Zuko pull back, even when you angled your head to the side to give you easier access.
His lips simply followed the movement with growing confidence â until he sank onto his knees, face buried between your quivering thighs.
