ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ (ᴋᴀᴛᴀʀᴀ x ᴀᴀɴɢ x ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ʟᴀᴅʏ)
ᴄᴡ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ, ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴅᴀᴄʀʏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ
Again. It happened again.
A creation Aang had manifested from his stress had been running rampant. It wasn't easy being the Avatar, but no one expected things like this to happen. No one even knew things like this could happen. It was taking a toll on the group and everyone who may have been involved, and Aang felt horrible. He needed to get this under control but he didn't know what this was or how to begin stopping it.
Aang’s breath came ragged, the ground beneath him still humming with the echo of what he’d conjured and defeated. What looked to be ashy footprints littered the dirt like fragments of a nightmare refusing to fade.
Katara touched his sleeve. “Hey.” No judgment, just the calm of her voice like honey melting in warm water. “You okay?” she asks. Aang gives a half smile and nods.
“Come, sit with me,” she says. They climbed a hill a little away from camp, where the wind shared peaceful secrets with the rustling leaves. Aang folded his legs. Katara settled across from him, mirroring his posture.
“We’re going to find a way to stop this,” She reassured. “No matter how long it takes.”
Aang stared at his hands. “I don’t even know what ‘this’ is. What if…what if there is no way to stop this, Katara?” He sounded almost broken—like he was scared.
“Listen to me,” She reached forward, extending her hand to him, close enough for him to take if he wanted, far enough to let him choose. “You’re carrying the weight of the Avatar, and it’s getting you worked up, spilling over in ways no one can begin to understand yet. But we can try to understand it. Start with your breathing.”
“This is silly,” he chuckles dismissively.
“Aang,” She warns and he straightens up, clearing his throat.
He followed her instructions—eyes closed, breath in, hold, breath out—until the tremor in his chest evened.
“Now,” Katara said softly, “I want you to think of something that calms you. Someplace safe. Someone who makes you feel safe.”
Aang’s eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed as he took another deep breath. The wind suddenly stilled, and his mind went to warmth: the feel of Appa’s fur under his palms, the sound of his friends' laughter, the moonlight on water, the steadiness that always came when Katara stood near. A smile tugged at his lips, timid and honest, and seeing Aang smile made Katara smile.
Suddenly the lake’s surface rippled. Aang felt the shift—his eyes opened as he reached out to Katara, almost as if he were trying to shield her from whatever trouble they may encounter. Then, he saw it. A figure stood at the water’s edge, haloed in mist.
He breathed a shuddering breath, as if it almost hurt to do so. Aang stood—Katara didn’t miss a beat and stood too. They motioned closer, carefully—like little birds letting the wind push them forward while remaining prepared to stop instantly.
“H-hello?” Aang called out. No answer. The figure just stood there with its head down. Aang looked at Katara and she shrugged, prompting him to move forward. As they stepped closer, leaves crunched under their feet, making them both halt, eyes widening.
The figure looked up, sending a shiver down both of their spines. She looked like Katara, and didn’t. The same sure stance, the same quiet gravity and confidence—but her face was veiled and painted red, crimson lips bright as a wound. A reed hat shadowed her eyes, and the long sash at her waist stirred as if a tide moved through it. She was the Painted Lady, the river spirit from hushed stories—compassion wrapped in mystery.
Katara’s breath caught. “Aang… did you—?”
“I didn’t mean to.” He swallowed, staring at the apparition he’d pulled from the part of himself that reached for comfort. “I-I was thinking of you, how you make me feel….” He winced. “But she’s—I don’t know.” He looked back at the Painted Lady, his throat feeling dry and cheeks burning.
The Painted Lady tilted her head, the gesture so achingly familiar it made Aang’s chest ache. She carefully walked across the lake before stopping in the grass. “Okay, maybe this is good.”
“How is this good?” Aang whispered.
“Because this tells us something.” Katara’s voice was steady despite Aang’s panicking. “Your stress made those violent creatures—shapes without a purpose. But when you remained calm, you gave your apparition a story to try on.” She nodded toward the Painted Lady.
Aang’s gaze softened. “I didn’t choose her on purpose.” He murmured.
“Not with your head,” Katara said gently. “But with your heart.” She smiled.
Aang looked down, twiddling his thumbs. “If I can make these things appear by accident, what stops them from hurting people?”
Katara motioned for him to sit beside her—their shoulders touching. “Intention. Practice. We can treat this like any other form of bending—only it’s inside you.” She pointed to the Painted Lady, who waited with patient stillness on the grass. “Let’s try something. Ask her to come sit with us.”
Aang hesitated, then spoke, voice as careful as if he were holding fine china. “Please… sit with us.”
The Painted Lady stalked gracefully towards them, before sitting right in front of Aang—her hands resting in her lap. The proximity makes his cheeks flush as he scoots back a bit. Katara notices and giggles. “Good. Now breathe, and tell her how you want her to exist.”
“How I want her to exist?” Aang repeats. “I-I don't know,” he stutters.
“Aang relax,” Katara coos.
“This is just…all so stressful,” He breathes, holding his head in his hands. Katara sighs as she rubs his back.
The Painted Lady peers up at him, her eyes intense and filled with something. Katara’s gaze shifts to hers and they stare at each other for a minute—they hold that gaze longer, like they were trying to telepathically tell each other something and that's when Katara notices the Painted Lady smirk just a bit. She returns it, her hand still soothing Aang. Silently they plot through their eyes and before you know it Katara is motioning for the Painted Lady to come closer.
Now seated between his legs was Katara—or a version of Katara he had manifested. Aang removes his hands from his face, looks up and jolts slightly. “Oh…hey,” he says in a shaky breath—almost shy.
She doesn't respond, just looks at Katara almost as if she's asking her for permission to touch Aang. Katara nods and the Painted Lady carefully and teasingly smoothes her hands up Aang’s thighs. They're muscular and she could feel him tensing under her touch.
“What are you doing?” He breathes.
“Shh, just helping you relax,” Katara interjects. Her hands move to cup his face, making him look at her.
“We’re out in the open,” He bites back a whine. He tries to check his surroundings, but Katara gently snaps his head back to her gaze.
“No one is coming up here,” Katara says sure of herself.
The Painted Lady worked her way up to the hem of his pants, tugging slightly. Katara sneakily slid behind him—her chest pressed firmly against his back.
His heart rate picks up—if you listened closely you could probably hear it beating against his ribcage. Katara's voice was a bit deeper, still soothing but this tone made his cock twitch. He bit his bottom lip, trying, and failing to suppress a moan as his pants slowly were pulled off. The cool air and gentle breeze against his cock made him hunch over slightly—his lips parted and he let out a shaky whimper. Katara couldn't help but smirk deviously. He was already leaking precum, the tip an angry red. The Painted Lady’s hands find purchase on Aang’s thighs again.
His hips buck upward slightly and Katara gently grabs his throat and squeezes. “Hold still,” she purrs in his ear—a breathy whine escapes his lips as his fingers dig into the earth beneath him. He pants softly even though nothing has happened…pathetic. Katara nods towards the Painted Lady who needs no further instruction before wrapping her hands around his cock. He lets out a deep groan that rumbles in his chest, his head falls back and rolls against Katara's shoulder, making her squeeze his throat tighter.
Aang’s breathing was labored as he felt the Painted Lady’s dainty hand grip his cock, pumping painstakingly slow. He needed more, so much more that he bucked his hips again to chase the feeling.
A sudden sharp slap was planted on his thigh, making him jolt and wince slightly. He was shocked—Katara was shocked as they looked down at the Painted Lady. “Stay still,” she growled. Aang’s ears burned, his whole face was a red hue as the Painted Lady stared at him intensely, burning a hole through his head. Katara’s hands moved from his throat down to his wrist, pinning them behind his back.
Katara’s lips grazed his earlobe gently. “You heard her, stay still,” Katara whispers before biting his ear.
“Yes ma’am,” Aang whimpers. The Painted Lady looks up at him with a fierce gaze—she pulls her hands away just for a moment before crudely spitting on his cock, making him moan deeply. Her hands are back on him in seconds, pumping his thick length and watching how the foreskin pulls back to reveal his leaky tip.
He’s a mess, it’s too much. The way the Painted Lady’s wrist flicked while stroking him and how Katara kissed his jaw and neck was driving him insane. He felt hot all over—like he was about to explode as he moaned uncontrollably. She starts pumping him faster, her spit and his precum making it so easy for her hand to work him.
“Feels good?” Katara coos. “You look so pretty like this,” she teases. Aang almost loses it as he leans back into Katara’s touch—his hands straining against hers to break free. All he could do was whimper softly as his lips stay parted.
Aang starts panting heavily—he can feel his core tightening, legs trembling as his cock twitches in her hands. “Look at you, doing so good for the both of us,” Katara whispers.
“I’m-,” he groans deeply as his whole body tenses. Before he can even get the words out, his cum paints his lower abdomen and his lap—covering the Painted Lady’s hand in thick ropes.
“You came already?” Katara taunts. Aang’s whole face turns bright red at the sudden teasinging. He didn’t expect it himself as he looked down at the mess. He closed his eyes while now fully resting on Katara, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he started to come down from the intense orgasm.
He suddenly lets out the most pathetic whiny gasp as he feels hands on his softening cock again. His eyes shoot open and he sees the Painted Lady gently massaging his balls—he can’t take it, his hands break free from Katara’s grasp as he places his hand over the Painted Lady’s, looking at her with pleading eyes. She looks back at him for a moment before pulling her hands away completely. He lets out a soft sigh—which is quickly replaced by a sharp inhale. His hand gently touches his cheek where a red handprint is already forming.
Aang’s gaze snaps back to the Painted Lady. “Did you just slap me?” he asks while holding his cheek. She doesn’t answer. Aang turns to Katara who’s trying her best to hold back a laugh. He turns back to the Painted Lady—her expression still the same.
“I said…stay still,” she says firmly—before breaking out into a wolfish grin. Her hands find themselves back on his softened length, gripping him gently as she starts milking him for whatever he’s got left.
He pleads. “Please,” he whimpers softly as his face scrunches in pleasure despite himself—his cock harden again and standing at full attention.
Katara gently turns Aang’s face to meet hers, pressing a tender kiss to his lips to distract him from everything—cupping his face as her thumb gently caresses his cheek, suddenly he is not too worried about having been slapped. The kiss is slow, their lips moving against each others like a comforting embrace.
Katara pulls back, a string of saliva connecting them. “Do you want us to stop?” she asks softly.
“Yes!” Aang nearly cried out. He panted softly before calming down. “No…I don’t know,” he whined and shifted slightly.
Aang was overwhelmed and dazed—he liked her hands on him, loved it even, but it was too much. The way she said nothing, looked down at him like he was nothing made something in him stir—something he couldn’t describe.
“Tell us what you want?” Katara says. She kisses his head gently—her lips lingering before pulling away —and he melts into her touch. “We’re here for you,” she coos.
The stark contrast between the two women was driving him insane. Katara was familiar, home—and the painted lady was something from a wild fantasy. Aang let out a soft whimper he didn’t know he was holding, making the painted lady chuckle to herself.
“W-what’s funny?” Aang managed to get out, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. The painted lady's eyes met his and he immediately shrank. Her gaze was intense and piercing, making his cock twitch in her hands.
He looked like he was about to cry, a soft pink hue covering his entire body—yet he dared to test her. It was bold really.
“Is that a real question?” She retorts and he bites his tongue—not know if he should even answer, fearing he might be slapped again. But deep down…he craved that thrill.
He’s so close to coming again, his entire body coiled tight with pleasure. “Fuck,” he whines and the Painted Lady raises a brow, pumping him faster. “Please,” he lets out a loud choked sob as his balls draw tight. His cock swelling as he feels his second orgasm about to rip through him.
“Use your words Aang, what do you want?” Katara murmured against his ear.
“I need to cum!” He cries out—his face covered in hot tears as he breathes heavily. His body twists one way and then the other as he tries to break free of their grasp, but based on his efforts you’d think he actually liked being overpowered and overstimulated.
Katara leans down, darting out her tongue to lick the tears on his cheek before kissing him—making him taste how pathetic he is. He cries harder, his eyes rolling back as he feels his orgasm about to rip through him. It builds and builds, and then—nothing. His eyes meet the Painted Lady’s, she’s smirking up at him as she pulls her hands away from his aching cock.
He sniffles softly before speaking. “I was c-close,”
“You don’t cum unless we say so from here on out,” she says as she stands, towering over him. His cock jumps and she smirks down at him again before removing her garments. His eyes flutter, it’s like looking at Katara but somehow different. His eyes drift up and down her body, just taking in the sight. Katara stands and follows suit, pulling her clothes off and tossing them onto the grass beside him.
“Clothes off. Now,” Katara commands and Aang scrambles to get the rest of his clothes off. “Good boy,” she praises. His cock is hard and pulsing as his big grey eyes dart between the two women towering over him. They look like Amazonian Goddesses. His Amazonian Goddesses.
He groans, wrapping his hand around his cock and giving it a firm squeeze.
The Painted Lady tilts her head ever so slightly. “Keep your hands where we can see them,” she says.
He looks off to the side before back at her. “They are where you can see them,” he says like a smartass.
“Are you getting fresh with me?” she asks.
“I think he is,” Katara adds.
Aang shakes his head. “No-,”
“I think someone should shut him up,” Katara smirks. They nod simultaneously before the Painted Lady walks over and stoops down, hovering just above Aang’s face. Her pussy was inches from his face, he could just reach out and grab her—slamming her hips onto his face and devouring her pussy, but he knew he’d be in more trouble by doing so.
She slowly sinks down, straddling his face. She lets out a soft moan as his mouth immediately latches onto her clit. He eats her out like a starved man, lapping at her juices like she’s the only bit of water in a drought. “Mmph,” he moans, the vibration making her keel over—her hands landing on his pecs and squeezing subtly.
Katara watches in awe as her man devours a woman that looks exactly like her, sounds like her, and talks like her. The visual was beyond erotic and it made something in her stir. Without thinking, Katara walks over to them. She watches as the Painted Lady’s face scrunches in pleasure as Aang’s tongue flattens and licks through her folds. Katara carefully straddles Aang’s hips, grabbing the base of his cock—gently sliding it between her folds and getting it wet. Aang whines softly and the Painted Lady digs her nails into his pecs.
Katara lifts her hips before sinking down onto Aang’s length—no matter how many times they do it, she can never get over the stretch. As she slowly sank down onto his thick, throbbing cock, he lets out a muffled groan. The sensation is overwhelming—her tight pussy stretching to accommodate his massive size. Aang’s tongue moves faster around the Painted Lady's clit automatically, making her gasp loudly. Katara takes this as an opportunity—she grabs the back of the Painted Lady's neck and pulls her in for a deep and breathless kiss. They share a moan that's muffed by the other as Katara starts moving, lifting and dropping her hips onto Aang's length. They pull away, smiling at each other with such a devious glint in their eyes. Katara can’t help but reach out, grabbing a handful of the Painted Lady’s tits and squeezing them gently—she rolls the hardened nipples between her fingers as she continues to bounce on Aang.
Aang was in bliss. Two pretty ladies above him—using him for their pleasure, and he didn't mind one bit. Subconsciously his hands come up to grip the Painted Lady's thighs, pulling her flush against his face, his nose nudging her clit and making her gasp loudly. She grinds her hip into him—matching his pace as his tongue moves vigorously through her folds. In seconds she’s coming undone and the sound of her breathless moans fills his head, going straight to his cock. He twitches.
The Painted Lady rolls off of Aang, legs trembling as she gradually comes down from her orgasm. Without wasting time she brings her lips to his and kisses him roughly, tasting herself on him. Her tongue tangles with his and they share one of the sloppiest kisses he’s ever had.
She pulls back, gripping his chin. “Open,” she commands softly and he obeys—instantly, sticking his tongue out. With that, she purses her lips and spits directly in his mouth. “Swallow,” she growls as she closes his mouth. Aang swallows, eyes gleaming with newfound interest.
The Painted Lady moves closer to Katara—her hands resting on her waist as she helps her bounce on Aang’s cock. They’re chasing her orgasm together and they didn’t even know it.
“Look at that. Taking him so well,” The Painted Lady whispers to Katara. Aang’s eyes widen as they then lean in and kiss each other—lips moving against one another like it was something familiar. With a deep groan he grips Katara’s hips—his large hands covering the Painted Lady’s as he stills their movements, his orgasm hitting him like a truck. His load is thick, painting the inside of her walls in a matter of seconds as she comes undone too with a soft cry.
Katara slowly pulls herself off of him—the way his cum leaks out of her is almost pornographic. Aang drapes one arm over his face, trying to calm himself.
“Holy fuck,” he suddenly groans out as his fist clench. The feeling of two warm tongues licking his length clean sends him into a psychosis. His hand immediately reaches out—grabbing a fist full of hair, tugging it gently. “Fuck, stop…please,” he begs, but they just stare up at him—their tongues moving simultaneously up and down his cock. Their eyes lock and his lips part to speak but only a small whimper escapes him.
The Painted Lady is kissing up his shaft while Katara sucks one of his balls into her mouth. “Please, I can’t take anymore,” he says as his grip tightens.
“Too much?” The Painted Lady teases.
Aang can only nod as he looks down at them through teary eyes. “I-I can’t,” he manages.
“Too bad,” Katara adds. He tosses his head back into the grass with a defeated groan. They go back to torturing his spent cock—suckling the head and massaging his balls. The Painted Lady’s hand smoothes down Katara’s back as she watches her take his whole length to the back of her throat.
“Nice and easy,” The Painted Lady coos as her fingers find Katara’s clit, circling it slowly—she runs her slender fingers through her folds, teasing her entrance before pushing it inside.
Aang’s hips buck and he cums with a strained cry, surprising Katara as she swallows it. He’s all flushed, body aching, and head spinning. The Painted Lady’s fingers never stop working their way in and out of Katara, making her pull off of Aang as she cums again with a soft moan. The Painted Lady pulls her fingers from Katara, admiring how they’re covered in her juices. She brings her fingers to Aang’s lips and he opens eagerly, licking them clean—making sure he gets in between the digits.
They all lay back in the grass, naked the same way they entered this world. “Now do you know how you want her to exist?” Katara smirks.
ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ: @luxesiren @crudeandoffputting @torawro @purple-nugget