not a tony fucker but back when i was in my marvel bag, i’d have a reoccurring fantasy about being yan tony’s basement wife and asking him if i can help him in his lab, just as an excuse to be let out of his room. he’d stand behind me and whisper the instructions in my ear while holding my hands to help me do whatever he asked me to do…until his hands slipped between my legs and i’d drop whatever was in my hands. after a little teasing, he’d pull me up and sit me on the counter so he could eat me out to his heart’s delight. its the first time he’s ever tried to touch me like this and i wouldn’t make a move to stop him
But I'll Love You Better, If You Let Me | All Mine
yandere! tony stark x reader
a/n: goodbye horniess hello @angelamajikimain. sophie i love the way your mind works this may be one of the most scrumptious asks i've gotten. also, im so touch starved that once my friend doing my hair with a curling wand got me light headed because she kept touching my scalp and moving my head. can you tell.
tw: head (f! receiving), light fingering, captivity mentions, mind games, misuse of a lab table, no soldering safety at all, yandere behavior, posessiveness, so many allusions and metaphors.
wordcount: 1.8K. (no beta reader fuck it we ball)
synopsis: you're going crazy staying in this one bedroom after tony kidnapped you. you've scoured every inch for a possibility of escape, and so now you need to try your damn hardest to find ideas outside of this room, but for that to happen, you need to stop yourself from going insane and actually get out of a room. easy, right?
wrong. tony knows what you're trying to do. he's about to make it so much harder for you to think clearly about this.
all mine. brent faiyaz
The thing with your kidnapper tony stark is that unlike so many kidnappers, he knows exactly everything. From the way you're feeling, the thoughts running in your head, how irrational he is to be so obsessed with you, but not caring enough to change things. He knows you want to escape, he sees it in every action you try to make towards it, from your sudden interest in electrical units, to your hoarding of small trinkets that you've been practicing lock-picking on, he knows.
And he doesn't even get mad at it, he knows you're scared. That all this is new for you, that you're having a hard time accepting this reality but the thing is that he doesn't mind having to break you down. He's read countless of books about conditioning. About cycles of rewards and offenses and how to best get you to finally realize that he loves you so so much.
So when you're jumping at him from the confines of your shared bedroom that you really really really want to help him in the lab, please don't leave me alone up here for any longer, he can't help but see into you.
You must have been going stir crazy. He was the only person you interacted with since you got here, and the four walls he put you in. Sure, you had the couple books on the night stand, but you were still going insane all alone. After your initial set of break downs and angry yelling at tony and crying, he still found a way to outwait your tantrums until he could get closer to you like an injured deer, and slowly smooth down your hair, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead and telling you that everything was alright.
He had an issue with punishing you. Tony was too smart for that. He never thought you were in the wrong, but he still couldn't let you go. So he did the second best thing: he never scolded you or got mad at you for wanting to leave. You're logical, he knows, and he's logical too. (Usually. Just not about you.)
So when you asked to help him in the lab, he nodded softly, knowing you were both frustrated at all the alone time he alotted for you to start wanting tony's presence as a form of stimuli, as well as wanting to be around gadgets that might aid you in your escape. (It was impossible, statistically, completely, and absolutely, impossible. Tony designed every inch of this system, of NOAH, all by himself. And tony was a genius. You couldn't escape. You just didn't know it yet.)
He guides you down to the lab, hand on the small of your back guiding you down to his lab. It's full of gadgets, technology, metals and half composed designs that make your stimuli starved brain go haywire. You're nearly dizzy with all the new lights, objects, and ideas everywhere after weeks of being confined by the time you get to the lab table.
"You ever solder before, baby?" he asks you, guiding you to a little station. "It's real easy, yeah? I have this little pcb here that's gonna go with one of the iron man pieces, but i need to finish attaching all the widgets and gizmos on there first. Think you can be my little helper?"
You can barely refuse, and he knows it. You didn't want him to be standing right behind you because you wanted to steal something to help your impossible escape, he knows it, but you can't refuse now. You nod shakily and tony hums, grabbing the metal wire with one hand and picking up your hand in the other, slowly guiding it to the soldering iron. "This is gonna get really really hot in just a moment, like the surface of the sun but pinpointed down to this little tip, so you're gonna let me use you like that little rat from ratatouille, yeah? Can't have you getting burned."
Tony puppets you like that, standing behind with his breath heavy on your neck, his arms over yours and controlling your shaking hands under his. It's all like game to him, making you sweat and get all dizzy under his touch. It leaves you all trembling like a new born deer, and him a gun that just can't seem to miss. Tony's words become being the barrel to the bullet.
He whispers into your skin, leaving goosebumps on your neck and a feeling deep in your stomach that you just want to listen to everything he says, moving nearly robotic like. It makes you scared. You're weak to him, and ever word breathed into your neck just makes you weaker. "aaand, just right there, a little lower— there, good, good, that's it, now we stick on the other side, good girl, exactly like that keep the solder iron steady, yes, that's it..."
By the time the first PCB board is done, you're wetter than you've been in weeks. all the touch, the reassuring words, it all drowns you until you can feel your clit throbbing with burning insistence. It doesn't help that Tony's plastered all over you like a plague you can't get rid of. He just sticks. moves where you move, holds you still, controls you under his eyes, it all has you feeling like you need to get off so bad.
Tony brings by the next board and you're just about to protest, the whine at the tip of your tongue, when he puts it down and finds his fingers wandering toward the strap of your sweatpants. (his sweatpants. he hasn't gotten you any clothes of your own yet.) you don't say anything, you can't even react to the touch because maybe he's just steading you, with the way his fingers splay possessively over your lower stomach.
Until he worms his way into your pants and runs two long fingers through your folds like a man starved.
You drop the soldering iron onto the PCB and tony chuckles, using his free hand to guide your hand to turning off the soldering iron, chastising you about soldering safety, but he doesn't stop his fingers, running them through until he finds the little knot of nerves at the top, and presses right into them. You whimper out with a shaky breath while you try to find the words to—what? Protest? Tell him to stop? Tell him to help? Tell him you're so fucking horny you can't think straight?
And tony chuckles at your indecisive breath, knowing that you meant to say something but never found the words. He knows how you breath right before you speak. How you breath when you're about to cry. How you breath between shouts and sobs and between bites of food you like and don't like. (And in a few minutes, how you breath right before you cum so hard on his fingertips that you see stars)
"You're soaked baby, you like engineering that much? Got a little techophile on my hands?" Tony teased, again taking your hand with his free hand to your waist, making you feel yourself up with his hand as it travelled up to your breasts and squeezed. You couldn't breath, fuck, it felt so hot in here, so trapped under his gaze and control, but hell, you couldn't find it in you to escape. "Or is all this for me? I know I've been going easy on you, but hell, honey, all I did was stand behind you."
He knows it drives you insane. He knows that all the stimulation and touch too fast drives you insane. (He designed it that way, on purpose.)
Then he clears the table, sweeping with one broad forearm and clatter everything to the sides and some off the table. (of course, not the PCB board you did with him. he'll probably get that framed somewhere.) you barely have time to gasp or flinch at the intake of noise, when he withdraws his fingers from your folds and lifts you up with both hands onto the table.
In the process, he grips your bare skin under your shirt, and you can feel your own wetness still slicked on his fingertips. something about it makes you feel like he did it on purpose. he wants you to feel everything.
"This is for you," he says first, yanking the closest wide-stool over to settle on it with. He settled with a heavy breath, looking up at you with the brightest pleading eyes before he pulls your neck in for a kiss. "I promise, I know you need this."
Then he lifts your hips, helping you shuffle off the sweatpants (and he knows you don't wear panties. he hasn't bought you any yet. it would be too much autonomy at first.)
Your knees are still closed, unsure if you want to give into it just yet. But Tony doesn't ask you. He just knows.
"But, fuck, baby, it's gonna seem like it's for me as well."
Then he wrenches open your knees without a second ounce of hesitation, not even struggling to you split you open until he kisses up your inner thigh towards your core, right when he puts one hand on your stomach and pushes you back onto the bench, forcing you onto your back.
You barely have time to process how he stopped your head from slamming into the metal, before he pulls back his palm and puts his mouth all over your sweet pussy, eating like the world's greediest man at his only source of elixir. His nose sticks up your wet folds to your cunt, making you whimper out in need as it touches he sensitive bundle, and his tongue tugs at your soft flesh and hold, his beard rubbing against your walls. Your bush barely bothers him, hell, it seems like it spurred him on even more.
He's messy with it, getting your thighs all sensitive with the scraping his goatee, your slick and wetness getting all over your thighs and dripping all over his tongue. He wants you to squirm, to cum under his tongue, to make your mind go so blank, that just for once, you're not thinking of escape.
He holds your hand. You squeeze it, unsure what to do, unsure how to move or how to even process the knot forming in your stomach. It feels like it's been there forever, and it feels like it'll explode any second. You don't want to fight him for just a moment. Don't you deserve this? Don't you deserve to feel good, for just a moment?
His tongue is all over your whole, his teeth biting at your folds until he moves up his mouth and plucks his teeth right over your clit, making you wail right under his hands. You squeeze his hand tighter for it, and he continues the assult, switching to his lips to suck around the small pearl, making your other hand hit his shoulder like its too much but it's too fucking good to stop. It makes him want to continue until you cry. He wants your brain break under him, from the force of your orgasm, he wants to reduce his baby down to her basics, and to test them.
He makes another hard suckle with his tongue flicking the clit, and you take in another breath before you cum. And he knows he's going to get real familiar with that breath.
Tony Stark's always been a genius. He knows how to design a system to make you forget everything for a bit. And by the looks of it (mewling and moaning for him, eyes screwed shut, hand clenching his hand in a desperate search for comfort), the system works.
everybody always writes characters like everyone is a dirty talk god like I promise u this fucking loser would be like “r u ok?” every minute and nothing else
peter parker hasnt fucked anyone for exactly 304 days. 304.
he was loosing his mind.
he never had the time to have a cheap hookup, always too busy with saving the entirety of nyc every. single. day.
and he might have actually survived those 304 days of just jacking off on the occasion to make sure he doesnt get too stressed, if it werent for you.
his drop dead gorgeous, sexy, hypnotising neighbour.
you moved in exactly 252 days ago, carrying a heavy box in the hall and struggling to grab the key from your pocket, when peter had rushed over to help you since he was already on his way out. big mistake.
when you handed him the box, he was revealed a gorgeous rack of tits in a low cut shirt, basically shoved in his face as you fumbled for the keys. he felt so guilty. your sweet smile and honey dripped voice thanking him made had him weak in the knees.
since then it just kept getting worse.
like the time you were picking up a couple of letters from your door mat on your way in from doing the laundry, and he happened to be walking past.
you were bent over, pyjama shorts sliding up your ass and gripping to your pussy lips through the fabric. right in front of him.
he had nearly came in his pants right then and there.
he had to rush home, his belt half off before the door was even closed, shirt quickly tossed off as he had fucked his fist and imagined bending you over every surface in his apartment.
oh and don't get him started on when he can hear you through the walls.
he had listened when you were brought home with a date, and it was like his wet dreams had been happening in the room next to him and he wasnt allowed to watch.
he could hear the way you were bent over, hips in the air and face shoved into the pillows as you got fucked senseless, wet pussy welcoming in a strangers cock when it should have been his.
he could hear the slaps of your ass hitting the mans hips with every thrust, the breathless moans escaping your mouth, everything.
he had listened the whole time, fucking himself with his own fist and wishing praying that it could be him next time.
and now, it had been two whole months since he had even jacked off. he'd been too busy! the whole day he had been tense, off his game.
and now he was home.
his hand was shoved down his pants in a second, head fall back on his couch as he wrapped a hand around himself, his tip an angry red. he needed release so so bad! poor peter :(
his hand moved quickly, his mind filled with images, moments with you.
your name slipped out of his lips with a wimper, and just as he was starting to get close-
knock knock knock.
"peter?"
it was you.
oh god.
peter shoved himself back into his pants, not even doing up the button as he practically ran to the door.
he opened the door with a slam, making you jump.
you stared up at him in shock.
he looked gorgeous.
his hair was a mess, cheeks flushed and eyes shiny. his shirt was slightly pushed up, cock hard in his half undone pants as he stared at you, chest heaving.
"i- i cant-..." your voice trailed off, forgetting what you even came over for.
and for a moment you both just stared.
"peter..?" you said softly, taking a small step forward.
and he groaned.
he actually groaned.
his boner was threatening to slip out of his boxers at this point, and you were not helping.
you moved into the apartment, closing the door quietly behind you, your chest nearly pressed against his.
"poor peter..." you murmured, pity in your eyes at the state of him. your hands landed on his chest, one trailing up to his hair, tugging softly.
he let out a filthy moan, eyes rolling back as he lowered himself onto his knees, grabbing your hips and shoving them towards his face, burying his nose into your pussy.
you let out a wimper, your hand tightening on his hair as he slipped your pyjama shorts down, grabbing one of your thighs and hoisting it over his shoulder, staring at your greedy pussy, which was dripping.
"peter." a sharp yank on his hair made his eyes snap away from his meal to your face.
"ask nicely." you normally sweet voice was sharper, but from the way he twitched in his pants, thats what he needed.
"p-please baby, oh- i'll be so good, please let me eat this pussy, please" he pleaded, eyes watering, before you nodded.
he was quick.
he shoved his face into your dripping pussy, tounge spread greedily as he slurped up the juices before licking at your greedy core, which was tightening around nothing. your head fell back, the door holding you up as you leaned back against it.
peters tongue was prodding at your hole, nose nudging and grinding against your clit desperatly as his hips bucked into the air. his thick arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, hands keeping your trembling thighs open.
"ooh peter! f-fuck!" you cried, hand gripping his hair tightly, and he moaned into your pussy at the sound of your voice.
before you knew it, he was standing, kissing you deeply.
you let his tongue into your mouth, tasting yourself on him, and he hoisted you up, legs wrapping around his hips as he stumbled through his apartment, finding his room quickly.
he dropped you onto the bed and was quick to tug off his shirt, revealing his bulky body, small bruises littering the abs and biceps that you were ogling at.
"p-please let me fuck you. i needa fuck your pussy baby- o-oh shit please!" he whined, crawling over you, his eyes wide with desperation and lust.
"please- please fuck me peter.." you mumbled, pulling him closer, and he nearly sobbed of happiness.
he tore his belt off, shoving down his jeans and boxers, and you nearly choked.
he was huge.
his greedy hands tugged at your shirt, pulling it up.
"Lemme see those pretty tits baby." he mumbled, pulling it over your head gently before throwing it somewhere behind him, his eyes glued to your chest, mouth open.
"peter." you growled, your thighs clenching. "hurry up and fuck me."
"yes maam." he nodded, before lowering his head to kiss you again.
his hand reached down, jerking himself a little before lining up, your sweet pussy being spread by his tip as he swirled your clit with his leaking tip, before he lined himself up with your hole.
"so pretty. so- so so pretty." he mumbled, looking down at you as he got ready, slowly pushing in.
just watching the way you winced and moaned at adjusting to his fat tip made him loose control. he pushed in with one sharp thrust, making you scream with pleasure and pain, meanwhile he mumbled apologies over and over, already starting to thrust in over and over.
the bed creaked underneath you as he fucked you deep into the mattress, your tits bouncing with each thrust. both of your moans echoed in his room, filling the apartment with the sounds of your shared pleasure.
you clawed at his back, your own back arched as you took his deliciously deep thrusts each time.
"such a good pussy for me. this pussys mine noew, huh? c'mon baby, t-tell me this pretty pussy belongs to me." peters voice was pathetic, but he was fucking you oh so good.
"p-peter! nghh-fuck.. its yours peter! y-your pretty pussy." You wimpered, eyes rolling back as his tip thrashed your cervix with each thrust, his thumb rubbing your clit perfectly.
he whined so loudly at your worse, his thrusts becoming messy, but he grabbed your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders to get even closer, the new angle making you moan so loud you knew you would be getting a noise complaint.
"i love you. ohmygod i love you!" peter whimpered, saliva pooling at the sight of you folded underneath him, his cock so deep into your womb, the bulge so visable to him.
"cum in me peter, need your cum!" you cried out as your pussy clamped down on his cock, your release flooding all over him.
peter threw back his head, burying himself far into you as he came, thick white cum painting your walls white with the hot sticky substance.
you felt so full, stuffed with his cock and his cream.
he lowered himself on top of you, making sure he didnt slip out as he held you close to him, his heart racing.
"can i take you out for breakfast tomorrow morning?" he asked quietly.
"yes please."
little did he know this was your wet dream come true as well.
freaks.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
A/N: can we tell i havent been fucked in nearly A MONTH.
the romanticization of having babies/being pregnant in fics like do NOT involve me bc I only know 1 man who is a happy, involved father and im not having a mf baby nor getting round 😭
(im also married and ppl keep asking me abt kids like ?!? ? tfw ur in my business, don’t do that)
“I’m back,” he calls out softly once opening the door.
You’re already there—must have heard him drive up then padded over—standing there, wordlessly awaiting his kiss. You don’t notice it yourself, though he does, how you get up on your tippy-toes and meet him halfway. You’ve been doing it for a while now. It’s really cute. And so he doesn’t say anything on it—doesn’t want to spook the habit.
“Welcome home,” you say, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you soft and snugly against his chest—smiling at how you nuzzle into it—yet another cute thing you’ve started doing lately.
“Mh-thank you, sweetheart—feels good,” he coos into your hair, petting it smoothly while you stand there, neither of you pulling away. “What did you do today?”
You sigh and sink further into his embrace, mumbling, “Same as any other day…” almost sulkily. “Just waiting for you.”
He chuckles, “Oh, that’s not true. I saw you watching something—anything fun?”
You hum, hiding your face in his chest, mumbling into it, “Not really… just binging another franchise they decided to ruin...” You shift and look up at him, keeping your chin on his chest while grumbling, “I don’t understand why they’d reboot something just to completely disregard everything it originally stood for—and all the effects just make it look cheap.”
He can’t help but chuckle again, ruffling your hair with a fond smile. “You’re such a nerd.” He could eat you up the way you are right now, plated on a silver platter for him all so willingly. “A cute nerd, though.”
You pout, “Honestly, what’s going on out there? I barely understand anything I’m watching anymore—it’s all alien to me.”
His hug on you tightens, but you don’t flinch like you used to—even as the look in his eyes darkens along with his words. “Yeah, the world’s gone mad. You’re better off in here.”
You smile then—agreeing for once. It’s also a new and adorable habit. And then you unzip his jacket for him, helping it off his shoulders and hanging it up for him—all so naturally. Looking back at him while asking, “And how was your day?”
He smiles while beholding you—to think such a question would ever leave your lips all so domestically—it’s enough to make his chest swell. Then with an exaggerated sigh, he whines, “Absolutely horrible without you,” wrapping you up in another hug, this time from behind, nuzzling his chin into the ticklish skin of your neck—making you giggle. Arms around your front, swaying you back against him. “Every second, I was counting down ‘til when I could come home to you.”
“Is that right?” You grin at his gesture—twisting around so that you could look at him straight. Slouched as he stood, all but draping you with his taller form—eyes leveled with yours, half-mast and adoringly admiring you like his most precious thing—his sweet loving girlfriend.
You cup his face in both hands, thinking the same of him—your sweet loving boyfriend. You’re about to kiss him, but then, struck by the thought, there’s a sudden freight in your chest that follows, and you jolt back as if he’d burned you.
He stills, warm expression twisting to one of concern. “Hey—” Stepping after you with his hands laid on your forearms, giving you a small squeeze. “What’s wrong?”
“I—” You don’t know, you think. Something’s off. Something’s not right—about his touch, about your heart, about all of it. “I’m just…”
You think about it, eyes skittering over his face—did you always look at his face? Since when did he become so familiar? Since when did you walk around wanting to see it?
“I just…” the words feel all strange in your mouth, but there’s no denying there’s truth in them. “I missed you.”
His features blank at that, blinking at you. “Oh…” Then he softens—smiles with a chuckle, “Well, I’m home now, so…” His head slants, looking at you in askance as he gently brings a hand up to thumb your chin. “What’s with this pouty face?”
You bite your lip. There’s so much noise in your chest—so many conflicting feelings. You’ve begun missing him when he’s gone—when he leaves you. You’ve started wishing for his return, spending your day in wait. Since when did you start doing that?
It’s not right.
“I’m slipping,” your voice is shaken and weak, eyes welling up with thick water enough to have him look blurry—you shake your head and squeeze them shut—making the tears fall quickly. “I’m not supposed to miss you—” you cry. “That’s not right. I’m not—you’re not—”
Not your boyfriend.
“Hey, hey, sweetie. It’s okay,” he cuts your sob off with two warm hands placing themselves on your wettened cheeks, holding you tenderly. You layer yours on top of his, feeling it’s the only thing keeping you from spiraling into oblivion.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” he coos, smearing out your teardrops, making them dry. “It was gonna happen sooner or later, right?”
Your eyes peel and look at him—through the veil. His face is a comfort—though you feel strange seeing it as such, when you know, even though most of you has decided to forget, that he’s a psychotic stalker who’s kidnapped you and held you captive for what must be closing in on a year already.
“Don’t feel bad—it’s only natural,” he assures, pulling you into his chest again—both arms around you snugly with his chin on top of your head, gently rocking you from side to side. “Everything’s fine. So you’re losing your mind a little—we’ll just find something else for you to think about. Right? Is there anything you want? Anything I can get you? More clothes? Sweets? Something fun? Maybe you can take up another hobby?”
He loosens his hold to look down at you—his face warm with devout for you, with a wordless vow saying he’ll do everything, give you anything in return for your happiness.
You love him, you realize then with a shudder.
You’re in love with your crazy captor—your batshit lovesick oversweet captor who shares your bed and treats you like a spoiled pet. And it’s so fucked up—so, so very fucked up, so very fucking fucked up. But it’s true—you’re in love with him. And you have been for a while.
“What do you say?” he asks in hope.
Yet, you can’t say it out loud. No, not yet—it still feels all so wrong. But, at the same time, you don’t think there’s a need for you to put it into words for him. He’s always known you better than you have yourself, after all. And that wholesome smile on his face says it all—he already knows.
“No… I just,” you start, staring into his eyes—those full-loving eyes that look at you as if you’re the only thing of value in the whole entire world. “I just want…” It’s a scary confession—both admitting it to yourself and him. “You.”
You look down, curling your fingers into his shirt.
“I don’t need anything else.”
It’s the truth and nothing but the truth—albeit a somewhat sad truth. It’s your one wish—your only wish. You just want him—to stay, to hold you, to kiss you. You can’t even think of wanting anything else anymore.
“Oh, well, that’s easy, isn’t it?” he says, stroking your cheeks, fishing for your shy gaze—smiling once hooking it—pretty teary puppy eyes, lost and looking for directions.
Don’t worry—he’s here to help.
“Where do you want me then, sweetheart?” His lips near your forehead. “Here?” He gives it a chaste kiss, earning your sniffle, then ducks down to your neck. “Or here, maybe?” Giving that a kiss as well, this time with more behind it, sucking the skin with a soft bite.
“Or maybe…” His voice is low, and it makes your skin buzz with a desire just as dark—shivering with it as his lips ghost yours. “Here?”
You hang in his hold, leaning after it.
But he just smiles, “Tell me, sweetheart—where do you want me?”
Your lip wobbles, brows cinched as your balled fists needily pull him close—yearning for it.
pairing: pope cody x bambi!reader ( no use of y/n )
summary: pope teaches you how to skateboard
content warnings: reader's a baby when it comes to standing on a skateboard ( relatable ), lots of touches because they're in love, craig slander, mention of the codys mistreating pope, small mention of craig being high + pope having broken his arm when he was younger,
a/n: i mixed my idea with a lovely request i received some time ago!!! thank you again for the request!! <3 gif credits to @wesandresons !! <3 credit to @cursed-carmine for the divider <3
wc: 4.8k
It was hard to watch the screen, when all you could hear was Craig's voice loudly booming over the TV. It was annoying, and you sighed to yourself as you glanced over to the kitchen where he was throwing food into his mouth, smacking loudly.
You dropped your face against your pulled up knees, sighing again. It was dark outside, which meant you were stuck here until one of the boys offered to drive you home. You were trapped with all the boys, but at least Smurf wasn't home, so you had some respite from her nagging.
It wasn't until you felt the couch dip next to you, that you finally lifted your head.
"Andrew. Hi." As soon as you caught his hazel eyes, energy returned to your body.
"Hey," Pope nodded at the TV. "What are you watching?"
"Some random comedy," you shrugged, almost embarrassed. It was a bad movie, you've always been a sucker for those, but now in front of him you wanted to appear cooler even though he never made you feel like you had to be.
He hummed, redirecting his focus back to the TV, tilting his head as he watched the characters do something idiotic. You shuffled down in your seat embarrassed, chin against your sweatshirt, eyes squeezed tight.
For the first time in your life, you were relieved to hear Craig's heavy boots stomping into the living room, flopping down on the couch and sighing loudly. He directed his focus towards you. "You coming out Deran's bar later?"
You couldn't help but immediately look over at Pope, to see if he was coming, and you saw Craig's eyes narrow at the movement. He'd become accustomed to your incessant desire to know if his older brother was coming to an outing before making a decision. Pope hadn't noticed yet and Craig was granting you mercy by not exposing you, a rare thing for him to do.
You turned your head slowly, dropping your feet back on the floor. "Uh no, sorry."
Pope didn't seem like he was going, no acknowledgement from him at the mention of Deran's bar, and the bar wasn't much fun without him. You only went in the hopes that maybe his hand would brush yours as he handed you a drink or that you'd feel his thigh pressed against yours. You liked how he made you feel taken care of. He always did get overly protective in a drunk crowd.
Craig shot you a disappointed look. "You leaving me with those losers, seriously?"
You shrugged, and Pope straightened his posture, indicating he was listening. You shifted your foot on the floor slightly till you felt it nudge his. He didn't move.
Craig sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his legs, as if you'd actually disrupted his plans.
It wasn't like half of the time when his flirting didn't work on you, he'd just leave you in the corner with a "you'll be fine right?" and leave to go flirt with other girls. It was a tedious loop with Craig; if it had not been for Pope you probably wouldn't have spoken another word with Craig after the third hangout, during which he spent the whole day using pickup lines on you.
It wasn't long until Deran joined the little gathering in the living room. You lifted your legs onto the couch, knees drawn up again, drowning out their voices, entirely missing Pope's expression as you pulled your foot away from his. Craig got increasingly louder as he often did and it was evident that he was high. His pupils the size of the moon.
Pope was about to suggest you go hang out by the pool, when your head snapped up from where you'd been pulling threads from your shorts.
"Skateboarding?"
Craig brightened up, the way he always did, when he finally had your attention on him despite Pope being in the same vicinity. "Yeah, skate competitions are happening tomorrow afternoon."
You shook your head. "No, you said Pope used to skate."
Craigs face fell. Of course. You always only cared about Pope. He reluctantly looked at his brother, before he slumped back against the couch, letting Deran reply for him. "Pope used to skate all night,"
You looked at Pope, to see if he was uncomfortable with the way you were all talking about him, but he seemed rather content, even joyful if you dared to say so. So you use it as encouragement to continue asking.
"Really?" you asked, your attention still on Pope.
"Really," Craig responded, almost annoyed, as if reliving those nights. "Never let us on the ramp. He'd just skate back and forth for hours until the police had to get him off his board."
You let out a laugh at that. "No way?"
Pope let his eyes drift to yours, letting you know it was true, and you shook your head in amazement.
"That's so cool," you smiled, and you could see Deran grin as he looked at Craig.
Deran was more than aware that Craig was interested in you, it wasn't exactly a secret. It seemed to bring him a lot of joy that you rejected him, unlike most girls in his life (and material to torment his younger brother with)
Pope met your eyes, before looking away again, startled by the sheer admiration in your pretty eyes.
"Cool?" Craig spit out in disbelief, but Deran smacked his bicep, cutting him off before he could spew out the insult he'd held ready on his tongue. Craig shot his brother a look, before deciding he had enough of this. "Come on, let's go."
Meanwhile, you were still looking at Pope, not even noticing the two brothers leaving. "Can you do tricks?"
You could swear you'd heard Craig mutter something about how he could do tricks, but you blocked his voice out immediately.
Pope nodded. "Yeah."
You were ecstatic. "You never told me about that," you said, almost offended, as if he should have told you about himself, as if some little pastime from his adolescence was so vital for you to know.
He blinked. "Didn't think it was important."
"It is to me." you straightened up on the couch and turned to face him. "Why'd you stop?"
"Smurf signed me up for boxing lessons," he replied, and watched your face fall.
"Right," you said quietly, tilting your head and observing him.
You weren't overly vocal about your distaste for Smurf, but Pope knew you like the back of his hand. He'd notice how you'd perk up when you heard her car in the driveway and how you'd instantly make an excuse about needing his help with something simply to get him out of the house. He appreciated it more than you realized. You always had an excuse to get him out of situations with Smurf. Even on nights when Craig and Deran were out of the house, you'd ask him to drive you somewhere, and then invite him for a walk on the beach.
"Can you still skateboard?" you asked, still interested, even though the mention of Smurf made you frown just a second ago. Pope nodded, and you lit up even more, if that was even possible. "Do you have a skateboard?"
He stared at you, and he furrowed his eyebrows, not entirely sure where this was going. "It's in my car."
"Will you show me?" And Pope was ready to get up, but you held him back with a touch on his forearm. "Your tricks. Not the skateboard," you clarified. "There's a skateboard ramp close by isn't there? We could go."
You were being blunt, you knew that, even he seemed taken aback by it. But Pope Cody on a skateboard? It's like every girl's fantasy, particularly yours.
"Now?" He straightened up on the couch, his body leaving the warmth of the back of the couch, watching you shrug.
"If you want to," you backed down, uncertainty seeping in, dampening your enthusiasm of seeing him on a skateboard.
His eyes darted over your face, and you anxiously averted them, sliding your feet back on the floor, turning your body away from his.
"Yeah, sure."
And before you knew it, he'd gotten up and headed towards his car. You stayed on the couch mouth open in shock, before jumping up and following him.
Half an hour later, you were standing next to a skateboard ramp, Pope next to you as he held a skateboard in his hand.
You cast a peek at him. "So you just dive into this pit, no helmet, no nothing?" you asked, regretting your decision to come here.
What if he hurts himself? If you saw blood on his body as a result of you asking to come here, you weren't so sure you'd be able to handle it. God knows he was injured all the time and you couldn't take it if it was because of you this time.
"Yes," Pope replied, now looking at you. "I'll be fine. I've done this before. Never gotten hurt before."
He opted not to tell you about the time he'd broken his arm, because that was a singular mistake, that should not have happened, and was the result of a distraction from Craig.
You hummed weakly, concern evident in your eyes. Pope looked away from you, warmth spreading in his chest.
You were so visibly concerned about such a minor issue, which made him happy. He felt like a jerk. But he was relieved to hear that someone cared about him getting hurt and was actively trying to prevent his skin from turning blue and purple.
Sometimes he felt like everyone didn't like him until he had some discoloration on his body, as if he had to prove to everyone that he'd been worthy in the last previous few days. What he was worthy of he wasn't sure. Kindness surely not. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten compassion from someone other than you. Perhaps tolerance. He'd be offered forbearance as his family walked past him in the bathroom where he'd be carefully cleaning his wounds alone, wounds that he shouldn't have had to take care of had it not been for them. They didn't care as long as their issues were resolved for them. But not you.
You came here with him because you'd heard he liked skateboarding. You'd decided to spend your free evening watching him do something he enjoyed, simply because you cared about him. That was enough for you to waste your evening on him.
He let the board hit the floor, sliding it forward a bit before stepping with his foot in the middle of it to halt it. Your gaze shifted lower, first to the board and then back to the pit.
"That's deep," you said quietly, and his lips twitched.
"I'll be fine," he murmured, and then took off.
You clamped your palm to your mouth, stifling any gasps tried to escape. You saw him skate to the other side before returning to your side. And then you watched him do it a few more times, until your hand slid away. Instead, a smile formed in place as you watched him with admiration.
You felt like a teenage girl watching the cool skater boy do cool tricks for you and show off.
Though Pope wasn't showing off, he was just delighted to be back on the board. It felt like home, more than Smurfs and less than yours. It was nice. He felt the air touch his face, and his shirt flutter faintly. He could've stayed here forever.
Minutes flew by, and then he was back next to you, board in hand, looking at you with expectant eyes.
"That was— amazing!" You seemed so utterly delighted, it made him smile.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah!" you said excitedly. "You're really good at this. I mean I knew you would be, but still!"
He looked down at his board, almost caught off guard by how a small wooden thing like this could cause his heart to flutter so much. "You wanna try?"
"What?" your smile fell.
Pope's eyes darted over your face. "Do you want to try and skateboard?"
"Down there?" you asked, voice high-pitched,
Pope shook his head. "No, just stand on it. Skate a bit."
You looked down on the concrete. "What if I fall?"
"I'll stay close," he said, tilting his head to see your expression. You looked down right terrified, truly terrified, and he'd never seen you like this before. And it was almost strange that his favorite thing in the world could instill such terror in you. You practically lived in his house, and spent so much time with Smurf yet this was the thing enticing this much fear in you? They were all criminals for gods sake.
"Okay, but—don't leave," you mumbled.
Pope dropped the board on the ground, the sound loud in the deserted park. He let one foot stop it from rolling away fully, looking at you expectantly.
"Do I just—get on?" you asked, cringing at how stupid you sounded. What else were you supposed to do? Jumping jacks?
Pope didn't make fun you instead he nodded slowly, eyes watching you carefully.
You stared at the board for a while, before slowly approaching it. "Okay, wait, I don't think this is a good idea," you mumbled as soon as one foot was on the board, feeling it move underneath you.
He glanced up at you. "It's a great idea. Come on." His hands up now, palms up, and reaching for you. You eagerly took his hand, for you were never one to pass up an opportunity to touch Pope.
His hand closed around yours, and he stayed still, waiting for your other foot to get on the board. And he was so patient, gracing you with the same patience you've always given him. "You won't let me fall?"
Pope shook his head. "I won't let you fall," he said quietly, trying to ignore how hard your hand squeezed around his. He brushed his thumb across the back of your hand in reassurance.
You reached for his other hand, squeezing it tight, if not tighter than a second ago, and then you stepped on the board, letting out a squeal when you felt it roll a little, hands snatching away from Popes and reaching for his shoulders, where your thumbs pressed hard into his collarbones, almost making him groan.
"Sorry, Sorry!" you gasped, still clinging on to him, clearly apologizing for your reaction rather than the fact that you'd almost just dug a hole through his skin with your thumbs.
Pope managed to still you, your hands finally loosening on his shoulders. "You're okay. It's not rolling anymore," he comforted you quietly, endeared by your panic, despite the thumping pain in his chest.
"Sorry." you winced again, embarrassed as you stood still, looking down at the board.
"Stop apologizing." His hands were now resting on your waist, right above your hip, and you felt yourself lean forwards into his touch, before remembering you were standing on a wooden board with four wheels.
"What do I do now?" you mumbled.
"Try to stand on the board without my help,"
Your eyes widened. "What? No." You shook your head, hand tightening on his shoulder again, worried he'd back away now. "You said you wouldn't let me fall."
"I'm not. I just want you to stand on the board," His hazel eyes lifted to meet yours, to check if you were genuinely bothered by his idea. No, you just seemed nervous.
"Right," you mumbled. You stared down for a while before finally shaking your head. "Nope! Bad Idea."
"Uh, uh," Pope was shaking his head already having expected this reaction, his hands still firmly on your waist. "Good idea."
You looked up at him and there was such a happy glint in his eyes, your resolve wavered immediately. If this could bring him even an ounce of happiness, who were you to deny him it?
"Just let go slowly, okay?" you eventually said quietly, and Pope nodded.
He slowly let go, and you stood there on the board unsteady, before panic surged up in you and you quickly hopped off the board and right into him. The board collided with one of the ramps as it sped away from where you leaped off of it.
"Oh I'm so sorry!" you swiftly released your grip on his biceps and headed for the board. You picked it up, turning it left and right, seeing if you'd damaged it.
"I think it's fine." You looked anxious, so worried and terrified that you'd broken it, but Pope just took it out of your hands gently.
He turned it, and it looked fine, and even if it wouldn't have been fine, he wouldn't have minded. You could break everything, including his heart, and nothing would change about the way he'd feel about you.
"It's fine. You didn't break it," he said, now finally looking up at you. "Are you okay?"
You looked at him, smiling sheepishly. "Aside from the embarrassment? Yeah, I'm fine." You shook your head. "I'm not cut out for this."
He shook his head, making a firm decision in his mind, that he wasn't letting go of this until you learned to appreciate skateboarding as much as he did. He wanted you to know exactly how freeing it could be. "Sure you are. I'll stand behind you."
"What?" You asked with a startled expression watching him set the board back on the ground.
"I'll stand behind you," he repeated slower. He straightened up again, one foot on the board. "You don't have to do anything but stand in front of me. I'll do the pushing."
You stared at him. "That works?"
"We'll make it work." Pope assumed you were considering the logistics of standing on a board together because you were always thinking about the logistics of things.
And yeah, sure you were, but not in the way he thought. You weren't concerned about slipping off or not fitting on the board. No, you were thinking about how he would have to hold onto you. There was no way for him to stand behind you on the board without touching you, and even if his hands didn't hold your waist, his chest would push against your back, and you'd feel the warmth of his body on your own.
You wanted it badly.
So you just nodded silently, muttering a quiet "okay."
Pope placed his foot on the board to prevent it from rolling off away as soon as you got on it. You did it shakily, and then you were standing on the board, Pope's hands hovering above your waist to ensure you didn't fall off.
"Are you sure we won't get hurt?" you whispered.
Pope considered getting you a helmet and other safety gear for a second. He was certain that Lena had left some lying around the house. The helmet was pink. You liked pink and he liked pink on you.
"I won't let you fall," he murmured, looking down at your feet. He stooped down a little. "Straighten your feet," he mumbled, his palm around your ankle adjusting it for you.
You followed his instructions, allowing him to set you up properly, but you were still off balance. You swayed and to stop yourself from face planting into the hard cold concrete, you quickly groped for the back of his neck. "Sorry, sorry!" you hastily gasped, when you heard him huff, caught off guard by your palm suddenly hitting the back of his neck.
"Was my fault," he shook his head, finally straightening up. He shouldn't have touched you without telling you. He never did that.
"You ready?" he asked, and you shook your head as you stared down at the ground.
Lots of concrete. Lots of concrete to fall on.
"I'll go slow," he said quietly, hoping it was just a small comfort to you.
He was thoroughly enjoying this. Too much even that he was starting to feel bad. He knew you were scared, but this was just too much fun. He adored skateboarding and he adored you even more. Combined, he was thrilled.
He put one foot on the concrete, and you immediately let out a small gasp when he gave the first push. He swiftly grabbed your waist fearing you'd jump off again.
"Was only one push." he mumbled into your hair.
You scoffed. "It was a fast one."
He grinned against your hair and tightened his grip on your waist, squeezing softly as the skateboard moved slowly across the concrete. It was slow, dreadfully slow, but he could feel the terror in your body, and he didn't intend on scaring you even more.
When he went faster, your hands went to his, still around your waist. "Slow down please," you whispered, gripping tightly, and he gently let his arms wrap around your waist fully, giving you more to hold on to which you did. Clinging hard, nails digging into his flesh, as he rolled once again, slower as you requested.
"This is nice," you whispered, not sure if you were referring to Pope's strong arms around your waist, his nose in your hair, or the skateboarding. You weren't so sure it was the latter.
You were going so slow, and Pope wished he could show you how enjoyable it really could be. To just go from one end to the other and to actually feel free for once in your life.
But he knew that this was your limit for today.
And so he brought the skateboard to a halt, and gently curved his lips at the puff of relief that emerged from your mouth. You swiftly stepped off the skateboard, his hands releasing you, and he opened and closed his fist, missing your warmth.
You turned to him, a wide smile on your face. "That was fun!"
You were happy.
Pope curled his lips lightly into a smile. "Yeah, it was," he responded, seeing you stare down at the skateboard still in astonishment. You managed to stand there for two minutes. Even Pope was in disbelief. He'd been convinced you would leap off after five seconds.
He couldn't have known that you could be on the Titanic right now, and you'd still refuse to get off if Popes arms engulfed you like they had just now.
You wouldn't have gotten off if he hadn't stopped the skateboard.
You moved a little pebble across the concrete before glancing up. "You can still skate if you want."
Pope wrinkled his eyebrows. "Think I should drive you home. It's getting late."
"So?" you shrugged. "We're adults and this is fun." You tilted your head smiling, as you watched him. "Right?" you added, hesitant.
You were constantly so unsure of everything. It drove Pope mad. He simply wanted you to be know, for once, that he enjoyed having you around.
"Yeah, it's fun," he nodded, rolling the skateboard back and forth under his foot as he watched you, thinking. "You won't get bored?"
You shook your head immediately. "I like watching you. Your tricks are cool."
And Pope felt his heart squeeze. Deran and Craig had always made him feel terrible about how much he enjoyed skating, calling it boring and stupid. Smurf didn't like it either. No one ever did. Yet here you were, standing and asking to stay late in an empty dark skatepark because you thought his tricks were cool.
He shook his head in disbelief, unable to hide the emotion you always managed to elicit in him. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, before quickly driving off.
And before you knew it, you were seated on one side of the ramp, feet dangling, watching him skate around. The emotion in your eyes never wavered and your admiration did not fade into boredom. If anything, your eyes began to light more, and your smile grew brighter.
Pope wasn't sure if he'd ever felt this appreciated in his life before, this acknowledged, this cherished.
After a while, he stopped his skateboard next to you, finally settling down next to you, legs hanging down onto the slope too, shoulder against yours.
His skateboard was set on the side, purposefully not put in between you so he could get as close to you as he could. You gently brushed your shoulder against his, before turning your head. "Where do you keep your board? Don't think I've ever seen it before."
Pope tapped his thigh slowly. "I keep it in my car, and sometimes a storage unit."
He didn't mention that he'd been hiding it from Smurf. He figured it was a given, and you didn't say anything either, well aware why the skateboard was kept away so far from his own room.
You looked back down at the dark ramp, thinking, before reaching inside your pocket. It had been weighing on you, figuratively and literally for weeks now, but you hadn't dared to hand it to him just yet.
But you figured now was good enough, intimate enough.
You plucked the key out of your pocket, turning it over in your hand before taking a deep breath and returning your attention to him. You reached for his forearm and only when he met your eyes, did you touch him, gradually turning his hand over until his palm was exposed on your thigh. You placed the key in his hand.
"For you," you managed quietly. "It's a spare key to my apartment." You glanced up, seeing his wide eyes as he stared at the small key. "I know you don't like to stay the night, but—I just—I want you to know that you can."
You chewed your lip nervously, having expected the silence but still feeling rattled by it. "You can keep your skateboard there. You won't have to worry about anything getting stolen and—and you can also use the key to just…. crash on the couch or the spare bedroom if you want. Up to you really."
He was still not saying anything, but he'd lifted his head now, watching you stammer through every single word.
"I just want you to know that you have a place to go to, in case it all gets — too much." If you bit your lip any harder you'd start bleeding, so you licked your tongue over your lips. "You can come over any time. Even if it's the middle of the night or—or if I'm asleep." you glanced at the skateboard next to him. "I have an empty corner in my living room. I'm not sure how exactly you're supposed to keep skateboards, but we'll find a way, and you know— if you ever wanna collect boards, you're welcome to stack them in my apartment."
You turned your head, now staring at the trees surrounding the park. You'd just spoken a lot. Even Pope was surprised to hear you talk this much.
He glanced back down, closing his fingers around the small metal key, brushing his thumb over it. "Thank you," he said quietly, trying to convey as much gratitude as possible in just two words.
He wasn't sure if it'd ever be enough for what you had done for him and for what you were still doing for him, but it's all he had for now. It's all he'll ever have.
He wasn't sure how he could ever repay what you had given him. What you'd brought into his life. Small craters in his body were filled with your compassion, kindness and love, which he had never expected to have filled, having just accepted that they were merely parts of his body.
He was so grateful he could cry.
You nodded, a light smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Your eyes shifted to the sky, noting that he needed a moment to reflect on what you'd just given him.
You watched the sky, and it wasn't until a minute or two later that Pope finally put the key in his pocket, and you let out a sigh of relief, as if you'd been afraid he'd reject you.
He brushed his shoulder against yours and he followed your gaze up to the sky, watching the stars. The sight was pretty. Pope seldom looked up.
His life required him to stay in the moment, to never think about what happened or what was going to happen. He never got to just look up and enjoy the dark canvas filled with glimmering stars. He turned his head, seeing you smile to yourself as you gazed at the sky. And he couldn't help but wonder if you were simply happy with the scenery or because he'd chosen to accept the key.
pairing: pope cody x bambi!reader ( no use of y/n )
summary: pope teaches you how to skateboard
content warnings: reader's a baby when it comes to standing on a skateboard ( relatable ), lots of touches because they're in love, craig slander, mention of the codys mistreating pope, small mention of craig being high + pope having broken his arm when he was younger,
a/n: i mixed my idea with a lovely request i received some time ago!!! thank you again for the request!! <3 gif credits to @wesandresons !! <3 credit to @cursed-carmine for the divider <3
wc: 4.8k
It was hard to watch the screen, when all you could hear was Craig's voice loudly booming over the TV. It was annoying, and you sighed to yourself as you glanced over to the kitchen where he was throwing food into his mouth, smacking loudly.
You dropped your face against your pulled up knees, sighing again. It was dark outside, which meant you were stuck here until one of the boys offered to drive you home. You were trapped with all the boys, but at least Smurf wasn't home, so you had some respite from her nagging.
It wasn't until you felt the couch dip next to you, that you finally lifted your head.
"Andrew. Hi." As soon as you caught his hazel eyes, energy returned to your body.
"Hey," Pope nodded at the TV. "What are you watching?"
"Some random comedy," you shrugged, almost embarrassed. It was a bad movie, you've always been a sucker for those, but now in front of him you wanted to appear cooler even though he never made you feel like you had to be.
He hummed, redirecting his focus back to the TV, tilting his head as he watched the characters do something idiotic. You shuffled down in your seat embarrassed, chin against your sweatshirt, eyes squeezed tight.
For the first time in your life, you were relieved to hear Craig's heavy boots stomping into the living room, flopping down on the couch and sighing loudly. He directed his focus towards you. "You coming out Deran's bar later?"
You couldn't help but immediately look over at Pope, to see if he was coming, and you saw Craig's eyes narrow at the movement. He'd become accustomed to your incessant desire to know if his older brother was coming to an outing before making a decision. Pope hadn't noticed yet and Craig was granting you mercy by not exposing you, a rare thing for him to do.
You turned your head slowly, dropping your feet back on the floor. "Uh no, sorry."
Pope didn't seem like he was going, no acknowledgement from him at the mention of Deran's bar, and the bar wasn't much fun without him. You only went in the hopes that maybe his hand would brush yours as he handed you a drink or that you'd feel his thigh pressed against yours. You liked how he made you feel taken care of. He always did get overly protective in a drunk crowd.
Craig shot you a disappointed look. "You leaving me with those losers, seriously?"
You shrugged, and Pope straightened his posture, indicating he was listening. You shifted your foot on the floor slightly till you felt it nudge his. He didn't move.
Craig sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his legs, as if you'd actually disrupted his plans.
It wasn't like half of the time when his flirting didn't work on you, he'd just leave you in the corner with a "you'll be fine right?" and leave to go flirt with other girls. It was a tedious loop with Craig; if it had not been for Pope you probably wouldn't have spoken another word with Craig after the third hangout, during which he spent the whole day using pickup lines on you.
It wasn't long until Deran joined the little gathering in the living room. You lifted your legs onto the couch, knees drawn up again, drowning out their voices, entirely missing Pope's expression as you pulled your foot away from his. Craig got increasingly louder as he often did and it was evident that he was high. His pupils the size of the moon.
Pope was about to suggest you go hang out by the pool, when your head snapped up from where you'd been pulling threads from your shorts.
"Skateboarding?"
Craig brightened up, the way he always did, when he finally had your attention on him despite Pope being in the same vicinity. "Yeah, skate competitions are happening tomorrow afternoon."
You shook your head. "No, you said Pope used to skate."
Craigs face fell. Of course. You always only cared about Pope. He reluctantly looked at his brother, before he slumped back against the couch, letting Deran reply for him. "Pope used to skate all night,"
You looked at Pope, to see if he was uncomfortable with the way you were all talking about him, but he seemed rather content, even joyful if you dared to say so. So you use it as encouragement to continue asking.
"Really?" you asked, your attention still on Pope.
"Really," Craig responded, almost annoyed, as if reliving those nights. "Never let us on the ramp. He'd just skate back and forth for hours until the police had to get him off his board."
You let out a laugh at that. "No way?"
Pope let his eyes drift to yours, letting you know it was true, and you shook your head in amazement.
"That's so cool," you smiled, and you could see Deran grin as he looked at Craig.
Deran was more than aware that Craig was interested in you, it wasn't exactly a secret. It seemed to bring him a lot of joy that you rejected him, unlike most girls in his life (and material to torment his younger brother with)
Pope met your eyes, before looking away again, startled by the sheer admiration in your pretty eyes.
"Cool?" Craig spit out in disbelief, but Deran smacked his bicep, cutting him off before he could spew out the insult he'd held ready on his tongue. Craig shot his brother a look, before deciding he had enough of this. "Come on, let's go."
Meanwhile, you were still looking at Pope, not even noticing the two brothers leaving. "Can you do tricks?"
You could swear you'd heard Craig mutter something about how he could do tricks, but you blocked his voice out immediately.
Pope nodded. "Yeah."
You were ecstatic. "You never told me about that," you said, almost offended, as if he should have told you about himself, as if some little pastime from his adolescence was so vital for you to know.
He blinked. "Didn't think it was important."
"It is to me." you straightened up on the couch and turned to face him. "Why'd you stop?"
"Smurf signed me up for boxing lessons," he replied, and watched your face fall.
"Right," you said quietly, tilting your head and observing him.
You weren't overly vocal about your distaste for Smurf, but Pope knew you like the back of his hand. He'd notice how you'd perk up when you heard her car in the driveway and how you'd instantly make an excuse about needing his help with something simply to get him out of the house. He appreciated it more than you realized. You always had an excuse to get him out of situations with Smurf. Even on nights when Craig and Deran were out of the house, you'd ask him to drive you somewhere, and then invite him for a walk on the beach.
"Can you still skateboard?" you asked, still interested, even though the mention of Smurf made you frown just a second ago. Pope nodded, and you lit up even more, if that was even possible. "Do you have a skateboard?"
He stared at you, and he furrowed his eyebrows, not entirely sure where this was going. "It's in my car."
"Will you show me?" And Pope was ready to get up, but you held him back with a touch on his forearm. "Your tricks. Not the skateboard," you clarified. "There's a skateboard ramp close by isn't there? We could go."
You were being blunt, you knew that, even he seemed taken aback by it. But Pope Cody on a skateboard? It's like every girl's fantasy, particularly yours.
"Now?" He straightened up on the couch, his body leaving the warmth of the back of the couch, watching you shrug.
"If you want to," you backed down, uncertainty seeping in, dampening your enthusiasm of seeing him on a skateboard.
His eyes darted over your face, and you anxiously averted them, sliding your feet back on the floor, turning your body away from his.
"Yeah, sure."
And before you knew it, he'd gotten up and headed towards his car. You stayed on the couch mouth open in shock, before jumping up and following him.
Half an hour later, you were standing next to a skateboard ramp, Pope next to you as he held a skateboard in his hand.
You cast a peek at him. "So you just dive into this pit, no helmet, no nothing?" you asked, regretting your decision to come here.
What if he hurts himself? If you saw blood on his body as a result of you asking to come here, you weren't so sure you'd be able to handle it. God knows he was injured all the time and you couldn't take it if it was because of you this time.
"Yes," Pope replied, now looking at you. "I'll be fine. I've done this before. Never gotten hurt before."
He opted not to tell you about the time he'd broken his arm, because that was a singular mistake, that should not have happened, and was the result of a distraction from Craig.
You hummed weakly, concern evident in your eyes. Pope looked away from you, warmth spreading in his chest.
You were so visibly concerned about such a minor issue, which made him happy. He felt like a jerk. But he was relieved to hear that someone cared about him getting hurt and was actively trying to prevent his skin from turning blue and purple.
Sometimes he felt like everyone didn't like him until he had some discoloration on his body, as if he had to prove to everyone that he'd been worthy in the last previous few days. What he was worthy of he wasn't sure. Kindness surely not. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten compassion from someone other than you. Perhaps tolerance. He'd be offered forbearance as his family walked past him in the bathroom where he'd be carefully cleaning his wounds alone, wounds that he shouldn't have had to take care of had it not been for them. They didn't care as long as their issues were resolved for them. But not you.
You came here with him because you'd heard he liked skateboarding. You'd decided to spend your free evening watching him do something he enjoyed, simply because you cared about him. That was enough for you to waste your evening on him.
He let the board hit the floor, sliding it forward a bit before stepping with his foot in the middle of it to halt it. Your gaze shifted lower, first to the board and then back to the pit.
"That's deep," you said quietly, and his lips twitched.
"I'll be fine," he murmured, and then took off.
You clamped your palm to your mouth, stifling any gasps tried to escape. You saw him skate to the other side before returning to your side. And then you watched him do it a few more times, until your hand slid away. Instead, a smile formed in place as you watched him with admiration.
You felt like a teenage girl watching the cool skater boy do cool tricks for you and show off.
Though Pope wasn't showing off, he was just delighted to be back on the board. It felt like home, more than Smurfs and less than yours. It was nice. He felt the air touch his face, and his shirt flutter faintly. He could've stayed here forever.
Minutes flew by, and then he was back next to you, board in hand, looking at you with expectant eyes.
"That was— amazing!" You seemed so utterly delighted, it made him smile.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah!" you said excitedly. "You're really good at this. I mean I knew you would be, but still!"
He looked down at his board, almost caught off guard by how a small wooden thing like this could cause his heart to flutter so much. "You wanna try?"
"What?" your smile fell.
Pope's eyes darted over your face. "Do you want to try and skateboard?"
"Down there?" you asked, voice high-pitched,
Pope shook his head. "No, just stand on it. Skate a bit."
You looked down on the concrete. "What if I fall?"
"I'll stay close," he said, tilting his head to see your expression. You looked down right terrified, truly terrified, and he'd never seen you like this before. And it was almost strange that his favorite thing in the world could instill such terror in you. You practically lived in his house, and spent so much time with Smurf yet this was the thing enticing this much fear in you? They were all criminals for gods sake.
"Okay, but—don't leave," you mumbled.
Pope dropped the board on the ground, the sound loud in the deserted park. He let one foot stop it from rolling away fully, looking at you expectantly.
"Do I just—get on?" you asked, cringing at how stupid you sounded. What else were you supposed to do? Jumping jacks?
Pope didn't make fun you instead he nodded slowly, eyes watching you carefully.
You stared at the board for a while, before slowly approaching it. "Okay, wait, I don't think this is a good idea," you mumbled as soon as one foot was on the board, feeling it move underneath you.
He glanced up at you. "It's a great idea. Come on." His hands up now, palms up, and reaching for you. You eagerly took his hand, for you were never one to pass up an opportunity to touch Pope.
His hand closed around yours, and he stayed still, waiting for your other foot to get on the board. And he was so patient, gracing you with the same patience you've always given him. "You won't let me fall?"
Pope shook his head. "I won't let you fall," he said quietly, trying to ignore how hard your hand squeezed around his. He brushed his thumb across the back of your hand in reassurance.
You reached for his other hand, squeezing it tight, if not tighter than a second ago, and then you stepped on the board, letting out a squeal when you felt it roll a little, hands snatching away from Popes and reaching for his shoulders, where your thumbs pressed hard into his collarbones, almost making him groan.
"Sorry, Sorry!" you gasped, still clinging on to him, clearly apologizing for your reaction rather than the fact that you'd almost just dug a hole through his skin with your thumbs.
Pope managed to still you, your hands finally loosening on his shoulders. "You're okay. It's not rolling anymore," he comforted you quietly, endeared by your panic, despite the thumping pain in his chest.
"Sorry." you winced again, embarrassed as you stood still, looking down at the board.
"Stop apologizing." His hands were now resting on your waist, right above your hip, and you felt yourself lean forwards into his touch, before remembering you were standing on a wooden board with four wheels.
"What do I do now?" you mumbled.
"Try to stand on the board without my help,"
Your eyes widened. "What? No." You shook your head, hand tightening on his shoulder again, worried he'd back away now. "You said you wouldn't let me fall."
"I'm not. I just want you to stand on the board," His hazel eyes lifted to meet yours, to check if you were genuinely bothered by his idea. No, you just seemed nervous.
"Right," you mumbled. You stared down for a while before finally shaking your head. "Nope! Bad Idea."
"Uh, uh," Pope was shaking his head already having expected this reaction, his hands still firmly on your waist. "Good idea."
You looked up at him and there was such a happy glint in his eyes, your resolve wavered immediately. If this could bring him even an ounce of happiness, who were you to deny him it?
"Just let go slowly, okay?" you eventually said quietly, and Pope nodded.
He slowly let go, and you stood there on the board unsteady, before panic surged up in you and you quickly hopped off the board and right into him. The board collided with one of the ramps as it sped away from where you leaped off of it.
"Oh I'm so sorry!" you swiftly released your grip on his biceps and headed for the board. You picked it up, turning it left and right, seeing if you'd damaged it.
"I think it's fine." You looked anxious, so worried and terrified that you'd broken it, but Pope just took it out of your hands gently.
He turned it, and it looked fine, and even if it wouldn't have been fine, he wouldn't have minded. You could break everything, including his heart, and nothing would change about the way he'd feel about you.
"It's fine. You didn't break it," he said, now finally looking up at you. "Are you okay?"
You looked at him, smiling sheepishly. "Aside from the embarrassment? Yeah, I'm fine." You shook your head. "I'm not cut out for this."
He shook his head, making a firm decision in his mind, that he wasn't letting go of this until you learned to appreciate skateboarding as much as he did. He wanted you to know exactly how freeing it could be. "Sure you are. I'll stand behind you."
"What?" You asked with a startled expression watching him set the board back on the ground.
"I'll stand behind you," he repeated slower. He straightened up again, one foot on the board. "You don't have to do anything but stand in front of me. I'll do the pushing."
You stared at him. "That works?"
"We'll make it work." Pope assumed you were considering the logistics of standing on a board together because you were always thinking about the logistics of things.
And yeah, sure you were, but not in the way he thought. You weren't concerned about slipping off or not fitting on the board. No, you were thinking about how he would have to hold onto you. There was no way for him to stand behind you on the board without touching you, and even if his hands didn't hold your waist, his chest would push against your back, and you'd feel the warmth of his body on your own.
You wanted it badly.
So you just nodded silently, muttering a quiet "okay."
Pope placed his foot on the board to prevent it from rolling off away as soon as you got on it. You did it shakily, and then you were standing on the board, Pope's hands hovering above your waist to ensure you didn't fall off.
"Are you sure we won't get hurt?" you whispered.
Pope considered getting you a helmet and other safety gear for a second. He was certain that Lena had left some lying around the house. The helmet was pink. You liked pink and he liked pink on you.
"I won't let you fall," he murmured, looking down at your feet. He stooped down a little. "Straighten your feet," he mumbled, his palm around your ankle adjusting it for you.
You followed his instructions, allowing him to set you up properly, but you were still off balance. You swayed and to stop yourself from face planting into the hard cold concrete, you quickly groped for the back of his neck. "Sorry, sorry!" you hastily gasped, when you heard him huff, caught off guard by your palm suddenly hitting the back of his neck.
"Was my fault," he shook his head, finally straightening up. He shouldn't have touched you without telling you. He never did that.
"You ready?" he asked, and you shook your head as you stared down at the ground.
Lots of concrete. Lots of concrete to fall on.
"I'll go slow," he said quietly, hoping it was just a small comfort to you.
He was thoroughly enjoying this. Too much even that he was starting to feel bad. He knew you were scared, but this was just too much fun. He adored skateboarding and he adored you even more. Combined, he was thrilled.
He put one foot on the concrete, and you immediately let out a small gasp when he gave the first push. He swiftly grabbed your waist fearing you'd jump off again.
"Was only one push." he mumbled into your hair.
You scoffed. "It was a fast one."
He grinned against your hair and tightened his grip on your waist, squeezing softly as the skateboard moved slowly across the concrete. It was slow, dreadfully slow, but he could feel the terror in your body, and he didn't intend on scaring you even more.
When he went faster, your hands went to his, still around your waist. "Slow down please," you whispered, gripping tightly, and he gently let his arms wrap around your waist fully, giving you more to hold on to which you did. Clinging hard, nails digging into his flesh, as he rolled once again, slower as you requested.
"This is nice," you whispered, not sure if you were referring to Pope's strong arms around your waist, his nose in your hair, or the skateboarding. You weren't so sure it was the latter.
You were going so slow, and Pope wished he could show you how enjoyable it really could be. To just go from one end to the other and to actually feel free for once in your life.
But he knew that this was your limit for today.
And so he brought the skateboard to a halt, and gently curved his lips at the puff of relief that emerged from your mouth. You swiftly stepped off the skateboard, his hands releasing you, and he opened and closed his fist, missing your warmth.
You turned to him, a wide smile on your face. "That was fun!"
You were happy.
Pope curled his lips lightly into a smile. "Yeah, it was," he responded, seeing you stare down at the skateboard still in astonishment. You managed to stand there for two minutes. Even Pope was in disbelief. He'd been convinced you would leap off after five seconds.
He couldn't have known that you could be on the Titanic right now, and you'd still refuse to get off if Popes arms engulfed you like they had just now.
You wouldn't have gotten off if he hadn't stopped the skateboard.
You moved a little pebble across the concrete before glancing up. "You can still skate if you want."
Pope wrinkled his eyebrows. "Think I should drive you home. It's getting late."
"So?" you shrugged. "We're adults and this is fun." You tilted your head smiling, as you watched him. "Right?" you added, hesitant.
You were constantly so unsure of everything. It drove Pope mad. He simply wanted you to be know, for once, that he enjoyed having you around.
"Yeah, it's fun," he nodded, rolling the skateboard back and forth under his foot as he watched you, thinking. "You won't get bored?"
You shook your head immediately. "I like watching you. Your tricks are cool."
And Pope felt his heart squeeze. Deran and Craig had always made him feel terrible about how much he enjoyed skating, calling it boring and stupid. Smurf didn't like it either. No one ever did. Yet here you were, standing and asking to stay late in an empty dark skatepark because you thought his tricks were cool.
He shook his head in disbelief, unable to hide the emotion you always managed to elicit in him. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, before quickly driving off.
And before you knew it, you were seated on one side of the ramp, feet dangling, watching him skate around. The emotion in your eyes never wavered and your admiration did not fade into boredom. If anything, your eyes began to light more, and your smile grew brighter.
Pope wasn't sure if he'd ever felt this appreciated in his life before, this acknowledged, this cherished.
After a while, he stopped his skateboard next to you, finally settling down next to you, legs hanging down onto the slope too, shoulder against yours.
His skateboard was set on the side, purposefully not put in between you so he could get as close to you as he could. You gently brushed your shoulder against his, before turning your head. "Where do you keep your board? Don't think I've ever seen it before."
Pope tapped his thigh slowly. "I keep it in my car, and sometimes a storage unit."
He didn't mention that he'd been hiding it from Smurf. He figured it was a given, and you didn't say anything either, well aware why the skateboard was kept away so far from his own room.
You looked back down at the dark ramp, thinking, before reaching inside your pocket. It had been weighing on you, figuratively and literally for weeks now, but you hadn't dared to hand it to him just yet.
But you figured now was good enough, intimate enough.
You plucked the key out of your pocket, turning it over in your hand before taking a deep breath and returning your attention to him. You reached for his forearm and only when he met your eyes, did you touch him, gradually turning his hand over until his palm was exposed on your thigh. You placed the key in his hand.
"For you," you managed quietly. "It's a spare key to my apartment." You glanced up, seeing his wide eyes as he stared at the small key. "I know you don't like to stay the night, but—I just—I want you to know that you can."
You chewed your lip nervously, having expected the silence but still feeling rattled by it. "You can keep your skateboard there. You won't have to worry about anything getting stolen and—and you can also use the key to just…. crash on the couch or the spare bedroom if you want. Up to you really."
He was still not saying anything, but he'd lifted his head now, watching you stammer through every single word.
"I just want you to know that you have a place to go to, in case it all gets — too much." If you bit your lip any harder you'd start bleeding, so you licked your tongue over your lips. "You can come over any time. Even if it's the middle of the night or—or if I'm asleep." you glanced at the skateboard next to him. "I have an empty corner in my living room. I'm not sure how exactly you're supposed to keep skateboards, but we'll find a way, and you know— if you ever wanna collect boards, you're welcome to stack them in my apartment."
You turned your head, now staring at the trees surrounding the park. You'd just spoken a lot. Even Pope was surprised to hear you talk this much.
He glanced back down, closing his fingers around the small metal key, brushing his thumb over it. "Thank you," he said quietly, trying to convey as much gratitude as possible in just two words.
He wasn't sure if it'd ever be enough for what you had done for him and for what you were still doing for him, but it's all he had for now. It's all he'll ever have.
He wasn't sure how he could ever repay what you had given him. What you'd brought into his life. Small craters in his body were filled with your compassion, kindness and love, which he had never expected to have filled, having just accepted that they were merely parts of his body.
He was so grateful he could cry.
You nodded, a light smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Your eyes shifted to the sky, noting that he needed a moment to reflect on what you'd just given him.
You watched the sky, and it wasn't until a minute or two later that Pope finally put the key in his pocket, and you let out a sigh of relief, as if you'd been afraid he'd reject you.
He brushed his shoulder against yours and he followed your gaze up to the sky, watching the stars. The sight was pretty. Pope seldom looked up.
His life required him to stay in the moment, to never think about what happened or what was going to happen. He never got to just look up and enjoy the dark canvas filled with glimmering stars. He turned his head, seeing you smile to yourself as you gazed at the sky. And he couldn't help but wonder if you were simply happy with the scenery or because he'd chosen to accept the key.
I haven’t seen any perv!aang so I have to #bethechange (no beta first draft forgive me)
tw! weird!pervy!aang, manipulative behavior, dubcon (escalating, testing behaviors like kissing, hugging, rubbing, etc.), desensitizing reader, essentially overstaying his welcome and getting weird over time
The avatar had been sniffing around your clinic for a long while, way after his sky bison and flying lemur’s recovery. The uneventful life tending to farmer’s animals and family’s pets had been predictable and comfortable; you had no urgency nor desire to find something beyond this pleasant routine. Your humble stalls outside of the earth kingdom, bridging where the outskirts met the river people, brought few people to your clinic but your rare services contributed to a steady, growing list of clients. Any person in the river or the kingdom walls knew to bring their pets to you.
The case of Aang’s pets was difficult and time consuming; no one had seen a sky bison nor flying lemur in years. You had to learn them as you tended to them, offering homemade foods to improve their performance and show Aang the proper first aid for flying animals versus large, multipedal animals. He was cordial, sweet, and a bit overbearing; he hovered over you when you tended to them, as any concerned owner does.
An air nomad, he has no where to stay and you have a loft in your barn; perfect for the avatar to stay close to his bison. He is the avatar after all; who are you to say no?
He hovers without you tending to Momo, the flying lemur playing with the sheep dogs near the well, and Aapa snoring in the barn, a crowd of cat rabbits using his fur for warmth. He could be bending or anything rather than watching you cook your boring blends for the animals. But he lingers, offering help, bending air to chop wood, blowing fire to heat the furnace, and making a rock fence to keep the sheep dogs from roaming. The duration of his stay continues, but, with all he does to help, you feel it isn’t logical nor wise to suggest he leave. He has no reason to stay; you taught him the necessary first aid and showed him how to make nutrient-dense meals for both of his pets. The loft is too cold come winter, so he resides in your living room suddenly, greeting you with a nonchalant grin as if his presence was a given.
Then he gets alarmingly close, grazes the chub of his dick on your ass when “scooting” by when there’s plenty space, or when he “needs” an ingredient from your pantry just above you. He pretends to need to lean to hear you to nearly nuzzle his nose in your neck, breathing your scent in deeply. He compliments the fabric of your clothes, testing its feeling by palming at your waist without waiting for a reply. He starts to do your laundry (of course, without asking permission) and shrinks all your clothes in doing so, shirts too tight to fit your bra beneath it and pants requiring hemming to just convert into skirts. Your bras clasps ruined from the washing and panties two sizes too small; he seems apologetic, but his gaze unabashedly drink in the way your nipples pebble under the fabric when he playfully blows a gust of air at you.
He starts kissing your cheek, the crown of your head, and your forehead, under the guise of a method to show affection. His hugs linger, then he holds you from behind, letting you squirm against his dick until you wrestle out of his grip, swatting at him with an scolding hiss. His cheek kisses get dangerously close to your lips, his nose nudging yours as if a curious cat rabbit. His grip on you is domineering, silencing, when you need to go into town. “I’ll do it. Just give me a list.”
When he has stayed his welcome into the cold winter, the couch is freezing all alone; let him stay in your bed. You trust him m, don’t you? You trust the man who helps you cook, herds your sheep dogs, and runs your errands so you don’t have to even look at the town again? Aren’t you grateful? He’s shown you he’s a good husband, why not share a bed with him too?
The shrunken nightgown hugging at you, his protective arms wrapping around you in his sleeping movements, murmuring nasty words in his sleeptalking, hard-on pushing past the hem of your gown and nudging your hole while you squirm, his absurd strength barely registering your struggle in his sleep. Even as the snow melts, he keeps crawling into your bed, sleepy eyed and grinding into you when his eyes close.
You stumble into the barn one afternoon, holding a pile of blankets for the cat rabbits’ newest litter, and find yourself looking at Aang, mid nap on his sky bison’s dismounted saddle: in his sleep, he doesn’t move one centimeter nor sleeptalk a single word, body still with his broad chest rising then falling in steady, even breaths.
you reunite with AANG years later, only to be absolutely lovestruck by his new appearance. and unfortunately for katara, you decide you want him for yourself.
WHEN DID YOU GET HOT ?!
PLOT. years after the war, you reunite with aang in republic city only to realize the boy you once rejected has become impossible to ignore. completely smitten and regretting your decisions, you notice the tension between him and katara, turning you bitter. after overhearing a conversation you weren't supposed to, you decide that their story was never meant to be. so maybe you should stop pretending you do not want him.
WANRINGS. 18+, mdni, smut, angst, dark themes, slight coercion/dubcon, manipulative reader, slight lovesick reader, baby trapping, slightly naïve aang, toxic relationship dynamics, possessive behavior, mentions of past kataang, alcohol consumption, submissive aang, reader is a horrible friend (don't be like her), fingering, oral sex (m. + f. receiving), unprotected sex, riding him, talking him through it, breeding themes, p in v, pregnancy, marriage, mentions of giving birth, fem reader, self indulgent, not proofread.
CHARACTERS. AVATAR AANG.
WC. 15.5k
masterlist
art creds :: cruxifixe_ on x
a/n: i didn't plan for it to become so dark, but i am not changing the title, idc.
i will probably return to edit it more, but i am so sick of coming across this fic in my drafts.
Oh spirits.
Why did it have to be like this?
The last thing you were expecting during your first visit to Republic City was to get smitten by the literal sight of Aang.
The same Aang who had come barging into the Northern Water Tribe, demanding to be trained in the ways of water.
The same Aang who acted like an idiot around you when you first met him, making you second-guess the universe's choice of the Avatar.
The same Aang who you ended up befriending before his leave, leading you to join him on his journey to master all the elements.
Back then, it had been easy to reject him. Taking his idiotic flirty comments as a joke, declaring that your friendship with him would never grow to be something else.
Hell, you had even gained a thing for Sokka for a while, and not once had you ever thought of Aang as a romantic interest, despite his many 'advances'.
You saw it then, in the way he would seek you out, always hanging around you, asking for your advice on waterbending, even though Katara was right there, the one person who actually knew combat waterbending, unlike you, who could only heal.
So you did your best to push him toward Katara, trying to free yourself from the burden of his feelings.
It had worked.
And how you regretted it.
Because the man who stood before you now, grinning ear to ear at the sight of your arrival, was someone you no longer recognized.
After the war had ended, you returned home to the Northern Water Tribe, where you were praised for your contributions in the war.
Which is why you had taken to teaching the younger female generations the beauty of water, passing down your learnings from Katara and Aang.
The elders had not been too pleased at your notion, but they didn't stop you either, reminding themselves of what Katara had changed within the misogynistic hierarchy of the tribe.
You spent those years teaching, learning, advising, not having much contact with your friends other than the letters you all exchanged.
Katara and Sokka would visit now and then, but the Southern Water Tribe girl stopped once her free time was redirected to developing Republic City. Sokka continued to visit with Suki, mostly to pay respect to a certain moon spirit.
You weren't in touch with Zuko, never having gotten too close with him. And Aang would send you letters more often than you had expected. But even those reduced over the years, only showing up on birthdays.
So now, nine years later, you finally decided to give a visit when you received an invitation from Aang, planning a reunion on the occasion that Republic City was an year old and flourishing.
You had agreed, because you wished to see your only actual friend you had made on your journey.
Toph.
The blind bandit had formed an unusual bond with you, mostly built around constant jokes and taunts towards the rest of the group.
So when you saw Toph upon arriving, you hadn't expected Aang to be standing there beside her with the others, towering over everyone else in his newly acquired form.
You couldn't even think straight as Aang and Katara led everyone to the inn all of you could stay in during your time there. After settling your stuff into your rooms, Aang had taken to showing all of you around.
You heard him for everything he had to say, paying more attention to him than you ever had. Your eyes hadn't left him once, watching him light up every time he spoke, waving his hands around animatedly towards all directions.
Fuck. His hands.
Asking what you would do with them was a stupid question, because what wouldn't you do?
You'd have them pressed to your tits all the time. Those warm hands that have mastered every element to the point of second nature, swirling wind, bending the earth, doing everything imaginable with ease.
How trained he would be with those hands. Maybe he would put his learnings to good use on your pussy, mimicking the elegant motion of his fingers over your clit as he kept you stuffed to the hilt, hopefully using his other hand to clamp your mouth shut.
Maybe he'd even let you take his fingers in your mouth, sucking and drooling around them to divert your attention from the fullness of his cock.
Your thoughts didn't let up even as night fell, by which you had completely soaked through the fabric of your underwear. The group had split up to retire for the night, holding a proper get together party at Katara's home the next evening.
The time before the party had been given to everyone for sight seeing, but you could barely make it out of bed, the previous night spent restless as a certain airbender plagued your mind, making your reach for your pussy for most of it.
What's worse is that you had to keep your moans to the lowest, too scared that Toph might sense you out from wherever her room was in the inn.
You never truly understood the extent of her power, you didn't even know if something like this would even be possible for Toph to sense, but you sure as hell didn't want to take any chances.
Before the get together, you had sat in front of the mirror to gather your thoughts. You had chosen to wear a henley much like what Toph had worn the day before, while beneath it you had put on a rather bold choice.
You had first seen Suki wear a miniskirt during her visit with Sokka at the Northern Water Tribe. Her choice of clothing was something you had questioned, trying to understand why she would wear swimwear while visiting such a cold place.
She had only sighed, explaining to you the growing trends of fashion in the newly developing city.
On her next visit, she had brought you your own.
You never wore it before, given the weather, but you had packed it, figuring the warmer weather of the city would make the skirt more bearable.
Arriving at Katara's home was hell, because not only had Aang opened the door on your arrival, he was bare from the waist up as he did so.
The blood had rushed straight to your cunt, trying not to blatantly look at his abdomen, or the hard planes of his chest.
"Wow, did your clothes run away?" You joked, craning your neck to look him in the eyes, not daring to avert your gaze elsewhere.
"I spilled my drink on it." Aang huffs, pouting a little which only made things worse on your end, wanting to bite his cheeks that puffed out a little.
"You didn't think to Air bend and dry it?" You ask, trying to remain composed even as your breath hitched, walking through the door as you stood close to him.
"That doesn't remove wine stains. Katara threw it in the wash." He answered, walking beside you as he led you to the stairs.
"You're drinking?" Your voice came out shocked.
"I was going to, but then Sokka bumped into me." He sulks yet again.
"I thought...Air Nomads do not drink."
"Well...I don't. But everyone has been asking me to try it once, so I agreed to do it today."
"Looks like I came on time." You tease, trying to meets his eyes but failing when he gave you the cutest smile ever.
You both had made your way upstairs, and you were very aware of just how short your skirt was. You wondered if Aang had looked at your ass as you walked in front of him, or had he diverted his gaze out of respect.
Either option had you pressing your thighs together, not daring to turn your head to see where his eyes lingered.
"Hey! You wore it!" Suki's voice had greeted you the moment you entered the room beside Aang.
She was talking about your skirt.
"Yeah. I have no where else to wear this." You had answered with a smile, looking a the spacious room, a low table in the center with food already set on it.
"It looks great!" Katara compliments you, to which you smile.
"Thanks!"
"Yeah, cute outfit!" Aang chimed in from behind you, making you turn to face him.
"...Thanks Aang." You had tried to keep it in, but your heart had practically leapt out of your chest as his voice.
"You're late!" Toph greeted you in her own manner, making you turn back around and roll your eyes at her.
"Oh! I am so sorry, ma'am."
"You just rolled your eyes, didn't you?" She commented, taking a chug of whatever was in her cup.
"Yep. Proudly too." You retorted with a grin walking towards the group.
Toph had taken one of the shorter ends of the table, sprawling comfortably in her spot while Suki, Sokka, and Katara settled along one of the longer sides.
Across from them sat Zuko with an empty place beside him, which you claimed easily, folding your legs beneath you once you sat down.
And a part of you had hoped Aang would occupy the space that had been left empty on your other side, but you should have known better as you watched him take the opposing end of where Toph sat...right beside Katara.
Well, Zuko was technically also seated beside him, but it barely mattered when you watched Katara subtly close the distance between herself and Aang.
No one would have noticed it unless they had been observing closely.
Which you were.
You watched the two as the conversations picked up again around you, watching how Aang too scooched a little closer to Katara each time she said something.
It made you nauseous.
You had done this. You had practically thrown him into her arms all those years ago, and the karma of it had come to bite you in the ass.
It only made things worse that all you could think about in that situation was how gorgeous his abs were.
You could already imagine how nice they would feel against your cunt, rubbing mindlessly on them as those sinful hands of his would keep you pressed to him, grabbing the flesh of your hips to move you even faster, letting you cum on his skin.
You watched as Aang finally took his first sip of whatever alcohol Sokka had poured for him, observing as he gagged at the taste of it, leading him to have a coughing fit.
While the others chuckled at his antics, Katara reached over to rub slow circles against his back, trying to ease him through the coughing fit.
It made you sick.
The sight of her hands against his bare skin. The ease with which he leaned into her touch, comfortable enough to accept it without thought.
And it only got worse when he turned slightly toward her while thanking her softly.
"Are you alright, Aang?" you asked, hoping to interrupt whatever quiet little moment had begun forming between them.
Aang looked over at you immediately, a sheepish smile pulling onto his face.
"Y-yeah. Just need a m-minute," he managed, his voice still rough from coughing as he tried to steady his breathing.
You simply nodded, masking your satisfaction beneath a look of concern when Aang motioned for Katara to stop, quietly insisting he was alright now. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away and settled back into her place beside him.
It was around 10 minutes later when the effects of whatever amount of alcohol had managed to bypass Aang's throat had started to take effect.
A warm flush spread slowly across his skin, staining not only his cheeks but trailing down the length of his neck and across his chest in soft patches of pink.
You tried not to stare at him.
Without the excuse of him talking animatedly or moving around the room, admiring him so openly would have been far too obvious.
But, the sight of his lightweight body unable to withstand a shot of alcohol had you squirming in your seat, knowing your pussy was actively soaking your panties as the conversations continued.
Aang had long since stopped participating in the conversation, now hunched over the table with his face buried into his folded arms while the others continued talking around him.
Every few minutes, Zuko would slide another glass of water toward him, insisting it would help flush the alcohol out of his system.
Aang only mumbled that he was fine, though his words slurred slightly when he complained that he had not expected to feel so "floosy" after a single sip.
You on the other hand, were burning. Your pussy was desperately clenching around nothing, dripping on the flimsy fabric, as you now regretted wearing the skirt.
Aang's drowsy posture had given you something entirely new to admire. The broad slope of his shoulders, the defined muscles shifting faintly beneath his skin whenever he adjusted against the table, the elegant curve of his back disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.
It took everything in you not to stare openly.
Your thoughts drifted embarrassingly fast, fixating on the sight of his back and imagining what it would feel like beneath your hands.
You fantasized how desperately your nails would claw at his back as he pushed his cock into you, fucking your fervently.
Or maybe he'd let you rest your legs over his shoulders as he ate you out, driving his tongue into you which will make your heels dig into his back, only pushing him closer.
Maybe he would even make you squirt? He was quiet talented at waterbe—
Your thoughts came to an abrupt halt the moment Aang pushed himself upright, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom before slowly making his way out of the room.
You lifted your wine glass toward your lips, eyes instinctively following him until he disappeared down the hallway, turning left once he stepped out.
Only then did you take another sip, absentmindedly humming in agreement to whatever Toph had just said.
Your attention was divided between the room and Aang. And the heat between your thighs had become unbearable to the point you had to take care of it.
A few minutes later, you finished the last of your wine and set the empty glass aside before excusing yourself as well, adjusting your skirt once you rose to your feet.
You followed the same path Aang had taken earlier, slower with your steps this time, though upon reaching the hallway you quickly realized the restroom was empty.
You only shrugged to yourself before slipping inside anyway, locking the door behind you and closing the seat before sitting down, hiking your skirt up around your waist.
You spread your legs wide enough to let your hand slip inside, sliding your panties to the side to bury two fingers deep.
You were so slick and hot, it was almost pathetic.
Your fingers did absolutely nothing in comparison to the fantasies you'd built of Aang doing this to you.
Leaning back, you began pumping your fingers, but the ridiculous amount of wetness made it difficult to find any real friction against your pussy.
It was frustrating, yet amusing; you had drenched yourself to the extent that you could barely feel your own fingers rubbing against you.
Nonetheless, the need to have your cunt filled was somewhat satisfied, letting your fingers curl pathetically against the spot you probed for a quick, desperate orgasm.
The pressure built relentlessly, and with it, your voice. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress the sounds, but the rising heat was too much; a few desperate whimpers slipped past your teeth despite your best efforts.
It was only when you heard two giggling whispers close by that you froze.
You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes widening in a flash of panic as you forced your body to go still.
Judging by the voice, one of them was definitely Suki.
Had she and Sokka slipped away for some privacy?
You sat up straighter immediately, halting every movement as you listened more carefully.
"Oh come on! Isn't it time already? You've liked each other longer than Sokka and I have even been together."
"That doesn't mean we're compatible! You've seen him...he's always busy being the Avatar..."
Katara.
You nearly stopped breathing.
Carefully, you stood up and adjusted your skirt, suddenly far more aware of every tiny sound you made while crossing the bathroom floor. Your hand remained clamped tightly over your mouth as you moved closer to the door, pressing your ear lightly against the wood to hear them better.
"So? He's never going to stop being the Avatar! Does that mean you'll wait until he's on his deathbed?"
"No...I just don't want to become a burden. He already has so many responsibilities, I don't want to add myself to them."
"Katara! You've kissed, for Spirits' sake! And...didn't you have that one night..."
"Shh! Suki, Aang is still out here..."
"Sorry," Suki whispered, lowering her voice even further. "But didn't you?"
You could hear Katara hesitate before she answered.
"Yes...we did do that..."
You froze.
Nausea twisted violently in your stomach at the thought of Katara and Aang together like that, tangled together somewhere inside this very house.
"Then why aren't you two together yet? Did he just use you? Because I can absolutely beat some sense into him."
"No! Spirits, no." Katara sounded horrified by the suggestion.
"It's my fault. I asked him not to talk about it again...to just put it behind us."
"Why?!"
"I panicked!" she admitted.
"I really do love Aang, but afterward I just...felt cheap. I couldn't believe we had done something like that before even talking about our feelings properly."
Slowly, you pulled away from the door.
Your hand slipped from your mouth while something sharp and terrible settled into place inside your mind all at once, so sudden it almost felt divine.
That was it.
Your chance.
"What did Aang say?" Suki asked after a moment.
"He agreed," Katara murmured. "Although...now that I think about it, he did seem a little hurt by it."
"Oh Katara, I am so mad at you—"
"Shh!" Katara cut her off quickly. "We've already been gone too long, and we still need to pick up the food from the kitchen."
Katara quickly hushed her again, dragging Suki away before her voice could rise any further.
Their conversation had given you everything you needed to know.
It seemed you had been terribly wrong about whatever existed between them.
They did not belong to each other, and that meant you could still do something about it.
You waited another few minutes before leaving the bathroom, taking the time to clean yourself up while listening carefully for the sound of their footsteps returning from the kitchen.
Only once the hallway had gone quiet again did you finally unlock the door and slip outside.
You did not particularly care that your little trip to the bathroom had left you unsatisfied.
Because in the end, it had not been pointless.
As long as there was still a chance for you to have Aang, you could live with the ache between your thighs.
You quietly made your way back toward the room where everyone had gathered, relieved to find them distracted enough to not notice you lingering briefly behind the doorframe.
You only peeked inside long enough to check whether Aang had returned.
He hadn't.
The realization made a smile threaten at the corners of your mouth.
This was your only opportunity.
So you slipped away again, quieter this time, searching through the massive house floor by floor while the sounds of laughter and conversation faded further beneath you.
Only upon reaching the topmost level did you finally slow.
Just before stepping fully into the room, your attention caught on the open balcony doors inside it.
There he was.
Your expression brightened instantly at finally finding him, eyes fixed on the sight of Aang leaning against the railing alone, letting the cold night air wash over him while the city lights flickered below.
Just as you were about to take a step forward—
"Just what are you plotting?"
Toph's voice came through, although quiet, held her usual fierceness.
You whipped around immediately, barely stopping the startled noise threatening to leave you before finally spotting the blind girl standing further down the hallway.
"Toph!" You hissed under your breath, pressing a hand against your chest before realizing what she had actually asked.
"I...was just making sure Aang was alright..." you answered quickly, which technically was not a lie, hoping it was bypass Toph's instincts.
Toph snorted.
"Yeah. Sure you were. Because you've always cared about him so much."
"Of course I do. He's my friend."
"Exactly," she drawled. "Your friend. Come on, at least try sounding convincing."
"I am not lying."
"Please." Toph folded her arms.
"I may be blind, but even I can sense your desperation from across the house. 'Cute outfit!' 'Thanks, Aanggg.'"
She mockingly pitched her voice higher during the imitation. "You were practically squealing."
Heat rushed straight to your face despite your irritation.
"And following after him?" She continued mercilessly. "Could you make it any more obvious? You're lucky everyone else in this house is dense enough to miss it."
You lowered your head slightly, irritation and embarrassment mixing unpleasantly inside your chest while Toph continued talking without pause.
"But not me. Since I am obviously the greatest Earthbender to ever li—"
Her voice rose noticeably toward the end of the sentence, forcing you to quickly slap a hand over her mouth before she could accidentally alert the entire floor.
"Fine, I get it," you whispered sharply. "Now can you please leave?"
Toph peeled your hand off her face with visible offense.
"Rude."
To your surprise, Toph's presence seemed to grow heavier beside you, the teasing tone disappearing entirely.
"You do know what you're doing is wrong, right?"
You paused, genuinely not expecting an actual lecture from her of all people.
"How is it wrong?"
Toph folded her arms.
"First you reject him. Then you throw him toward Katara. And now that those two finally have something going on, suddenly you want him back?"
"Toph, we were kids," you argued quietly.
"He's not still hung up over some rejection from when we were twelve. We're friends." You hesitated briefly before adding—
"And those two barely even have anything happening between them. I literally heard Katara admit it herself."
"Doesn't matter. It is still wrong."
"You're acting like I'm breaking them apart. They were never together to begin with!"
Toph clicked her tongue.
"You're still meddling. Worse, you're trying to steal him from your own friend."
You exhaled slowly, trying to keep your composure intact.
"Toph," you said carefully, "you're supposed to be the sensible one here. Is it really my fault if, after all these years, Aang ends up choosing me?"
"What makes you so sure he will?"
"Because Katara already had her chance." The words left you more sharply than intended.
"They've spent years dancing around each other and still nothing came out of it. I disappeared from his life completely, and somehow even that wasn't enough to push them together." You glanced toward the balcony again.
"At some point, maybe you have to admit it's simply not meant to be."
"You can't be the judge of that."
"I'm not trying to be." You straightened slightly, smoothing your skirt back into place before lifting your chin.
"Aang will make his own choice. And if he chooses me...then just know I was right." A faint smile touched your mouth.
Toph let out a slow breath through her nose.
You glanced toward her once more before stepping back toward the doorway leading to the balcony.
"Now go, Toph. I'm sure you don't want to become someone who meddles."
She clicked her tongue at that, clearly unimpressed by your attempt at turning her own argument against her, though after another moment she finally sighed and began walking away down the hallway.
Yeah.
She really was a good friend.
Unlike you.
You stepped into the room slowly, making sure your footsteps were loud enough to announce your presence rather than startle him.
Still, you saw Aang's shoulders tense slightly at the first creak of the floorboards behind him.
He turned around quickly. "Katara?"
The name struck harder than you expected.
But the moment he realized it was you instead, surprise softened into a smile.
"Hey..." His voice quieter now, softened by the lingering haze the alcohol had left behind.
You approached carefully as you joined him near the railing, sliding the balcony doors shut behind you to block out the noise from downstairs.
You smile up at him, trying not to show your irritation at the name he had called out.
"Hi, Aang. Are you alright? You've been gone for a while." You kept your tone light, sweet enough to avoid making him cautious.
"Yeah," he answered with a small laugh beneath his breath. "I just needed some air. Clear my head a little."
"I see." You rested your arms lightly against the railing beside him.
"Feeling better now?"
"Much."
He smiled again before glancing back toward the streets below.
"I think we should've predicted you'd be a lightweight."
"Seriously. It felt like my head fell off after one sip." Aang laughed rubbing the back of his neck.
"You head seems to be on right at least." You muse, leaning your back against the railing, having your head turned towards him as you spoke.
"Yup! I feel like myself again! For the most part at least." He jokes, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.
"You certainly look like you do." You tease, your eyes drifting over him once more before returning to his face.
"Come on. Let's go back! You did find me after all...everyone must be waiting." He says, before stepping away from the railing.
He had barely taken more than a couple of steps before your hand reached out instinctively, fingers wrapping around his forearm to stop him.
"Wait, Aang!"
He stopped the moment your hand touched him, turning back toward you almost immediately while you gently pulled him to a halt.
"Everything alright...?" He asked, remaining where he was instead of pulling away from your touch.
"Yeah, I just...I wanted to talk to you about something." You slowly let go of him once he stepped back beside you again.
"Oh." Aang settled against the railing once more, patient as ever.
"What's up?"
"Aang..."
Well fuck. You didn't actually think this through.
You had managed to get yourself up here alone with him, had spent the last twenty minutes convincing yourself this was your perfect opportunity, and now that he stood in front of you waiting so openly for whatever you wanted to say, you realized you had absolutely no idea how to make any of this work without sounding insane.
How exactly were you supposed to convince the boy you once rejected to choose you over the girl he had spent years being smitten with?
The girl he had apparently already shared a bed with.
Your teeth sank unconsciously into your bottom lip while nerves clawed their way through you, your throat tightening with the sudden realization of how pathetically desperate you must have looked tonight.
Toph had been right.
Spirits, she had been completely right.
You tried not to let any of it show on your face, but something must have slipped through regardless, because Aang picked up on it immediately.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
Aang's voice softened immediately with concern as he stepped closer, one hand settling carefully against your shoulder in an attempt to pull you out of whatever spiral you had disappeared into.
The touch snapped you back to reality far too quickly, his touch sending a chill throughout your skin, his newly matured voice doing wonders for your already fuzzy mind.
It completely ruined your ability to think straight.
"Why didn't you ever visit me?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.
Aang blinked in confusion. "What...?"
Well.
You had already said it now.
There was no point trying to take it back.
"Everyone visited me. Or at least wrote to me often. You never did...and eventually your letters stopped showing up too."
Aang looked genuinely taken aback by that.
"Is that why you've been mad at me?"
You frowned slightly. "I've been mad at you?"
"You keep glaring at me, and you've barely talked to me since you got here." He admitted carefully.
Between obsessing over him and trying not to stare at him every five seconds, you may have completely forgotten to behave like a normal person around him.
In hindsight, perhaps openly glaring at Katara every time she touched him had not been particularly subtle either.
The realization made heat crawl straight up your neck, embarrassment settling uncomfortably in your chest at the thought of who else might have noticed your behavior tonight.
Though, considering Toph had described the others as "dense as rocks," perhaps you still had some dignity left intact.
But then again, you figured you could use that to your advantage.
"Yes. I am angry with you." You confirmed, averting your gaze, knowing damn well his absence in your life hadn't been significant either way.
Aang's expression fell almost immediately.
"I'm sorry. You never wrote back and I just thought..." He hesitated briefly before laughing awkwardly under his breath.
"I don't know. I thought maybe you hated me." Aang admits, trying to convince you he didn't do anything deliberately.
"Why would I hate you, Aang?"
Your voice softened deliberately around his name while you turned your face again, grateful for the lingering effects from the wine making your flushed appearance seem far more believable.
"I don't think my heart could ever hate you," you murmured. "No matter what you did."
"That means a lot to me. Really."
You nearly frowned when Aang completely missed the implication behind your words, smiling instead at what he clearly believed was simple affection.
"I know I annoyed you a lot back then," He continued with a sheepish laugh. "Following you around and all. I just thought you didn't like me."
You knew he did not mean 'like' in a romantic sense.
Though even if he had, he would not have been entirely wrong.
"I did like you, Aang," you admitted softly. "I think...I admired you more than I wanted to."
His looked taken aback at that.
"At first, I honestly couldn't stand any of you," you continued with a quiet laugh. "Watching you and Katara run around the North Pole disrespecting centuries of tradition nearly drove me insane."
You shook your head lightly.
"But I'm grateful for it now."
"I heard you started your own academy for women."
The pride in his voice made warmth bloom annoyingly in your chest.
"Yes. Alongside healing, I teach combat to anyone interested in learning." A faint smile crossed your face.
"For that, I only have you and Katara to thank. Which is why..."
You let your voice trail off after that, deliberately avoiding his eyes while your fingers traced absent patterns against the railing, hoping it would make him more curious.
And it does, almost predictably so.
"Which is why?" Aang prompted gently.
You hesitated just long enough.
"Which is why it hurt when you never showed up."
The apology appeared on his face instantly.
You could see it in the subtle stillness that overtook him, in the way his hands loosened against the railing as though guilt had slipped into his bones before he could defend himself.
"I thought you didn't want me there." He admitted quietly.
"You never answered any of my letters, and after a while I just..." He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head once.
"I didn't want to bother you."
A smile touched your mouth, carrying just enough sadness to make him regret the sentence before it had even finished leaving him.
"You could never bother me."
The night air drifted between you both, carrying distant sounds from the streets below, though they hardly reached the balcony anymore.
His attention had settled entirely onto you now, patient and open in the way only Aang could be, and you hated how easy it was to pull him in once he decided to listen.
"I kept thinking you'd visit eventually," You continued.
"Every few months someone would arrive at the tribe and for a moment I'd convince myself it would be you." A quiet laugh escaped you.
"Sokka and Suki came whenever they could. Katara visited enough that the children started asking when she would return. Even Toph showed up once and insulted half the tribe before she left."
That finally earned a laugh from him and you waited for it to fade before looking up again.
"But never you."
The amusement disappeared from his expression so quickly it almost made you feel cruel.
"I didn't know you wanted me to."
"I think I just expected you to know."
You softened the line the moment it landed, turning your head away before it could sound accusatory.
"Aang" and "knowing" had always belonged together.
He noticed every frightened child, every wounded stranger, every person trying too hard to pretend they were alright.
You were counting on that part of him now, feeding it carefully until he began searching your face for things you had not yet said.
"Spirits. This sounds embarrassing now." You say, covering your face with your hands.
"No, it doesn't."
The answer came too quickly, and so did his hands as they rested on yours, pulling them away from your face.
"Back then, you always pushed me away. You never really took me seriously whenever I..." A small laugh escaped him, awkward and fleeting.
"I thought it meant you didn't want me around."
You looked at him for a moment before smiling faintly.
"Aang, we were children."
The embarrassment on his face deepened instantly.
"You were running around the world flirting with every girl who smiled at you."
"That is not true."
"Suki told me you tried to impress the Kiyoshi Warriors by flexing your staff."
"That was one time. I had never been around people who admired me before."
"You asked me if I thought your tattoos made you look mysterious."
"That—! That was Sokka's idea of— Ugh..." Aang groaned quietly into his hand while you laughed under your breath, watching the tension ease from him little by little.
"You were impossible, of course I didn't take you seriously." You chuckled.
"But...you do now?"
There it was.
Just a sliver of hope in his voice.
You waited, hesitating for a good anticipating moment before you spoke.
"I just...I think somewhere along the way...you stopped being a boy I simply found...amusing."
The honesty in that sentence unsettled him. His attention lingered on you, trying to read through your expression and failing each time you softened before giving too much away.
"You still could've written back to me." He muttered, though the guilt had not left him entirely.
"I know." You sighed lightly, searching your head for a believable excuse.
"But after the war ended, everything changed so quickly. You had a city to build. Katara stayed beside you. Sokka had Suki. Zuko was ruling an entire nation. Toph disappeared into whatever cave she crawled out of. " A smile tugged briefly at your mouth.
"I suppose I convinced myself there wasn't really a place left for me."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" You shot back instantly.
You did not say it bitterly. It was important not to do so. You couldn't show any anger or place blame.
"You all built something together here while I stayed behind in the North teaching children how to heal sprained wrists."
"You did more than that."
"I know," you answered gently. "But it's different hearing about someone's life through letters instead of being part of it. And every time your letters became shorter, I told myself it was normal. You were growing into someone important. But..."
You paused again, and you knew every time you did so was nipping at his curiosity.
"You were important to me, Aang."
His throat shifted around a swallow.
"You were important to me too."
"Were?"
The correction slipped out playfully, but it struck him all the same. You watched realization move through him at once, watched him stumble over himself trying to fix it.
"Are. I meant are."
You let him have the recovery, lowering your eyes with a quiet smile that rewarded him for it.
"I know everyone needs something from you now," you said after a moment. "The council needs the Avatar. Republic City needs its founder. Whole nations probably line up waiting for a piece of your time."
His attention was rooted to you.
"But I didn't miss the Avatar."
He had gone entirely still beneath your words, waiting for you to finish your sentence.
You slowly moved, catching him off guard as you softly took his hands in yours.
"I missed you."
You could practically feel him trying to make sense of it, trying to decide whether this ache blooming inside his chest had always been there or whether you had placed it there yourself.
"You...make it sound like I abandoned you..." He admitted, though there was no defensiveness in it.
You tilted your head slightly, watching him through your lashes.
"Didn't you?"
"Aang!" A voice echoed faintly somewhere inside the house, muffled by walls and distance.
Katara.
You felt the interruption scrape across your nerves, but you did not let it show.
Instead, your thumb brushed once against the inside of his wrist, subtle enough to feel accidental.
His attention remained on you.
Interesting.
"I know you had your reasons." You continued gently, lowering your voice until it almost blended into the wind around you.
"You've always done what everyone else needed first. I think that's why people expect you to wait forever for them."
Something unreadable passed through him then, because he understood exactly what you meant even without hearing her name.
"And what do you need?" He asked.
There it was.
Not the Avatar speaking.
Just Aang.
You let the silence play out for a while before finally moving your hand from his wrist and sliding it slowly into his palm instead, holding it facing up.
"I think, I wanted to know whether you would've chosen me if I had asked you to stay." You said softly,
"...Stay where?" His breath got heavier, very aware of your hand in his. You moved to use both your hands to hold one of his, bringing it closer to yourself with every word you spoke.
"With me? Continue to be a part of my life?" You say with a tilt of you head, brining his hand even closer till his fingers were barely grazed your stomach.
It was only when you slid his hand down, letting it slip under your skirt did he react. His breath hitched a sharp, stifled gasp and a deep flush crept across his face, catching him completely off guard.
"Wait—"
Aang barely managed his protest before you smoothly cut him off with your own plea.
"I needed you, Aang. And I still do."
You really did.
He felt the heat of you, letting out an audible hiss at the touch. You weren't just warm; you were burning, so soaked that the fabric covering you had long since lost its purpose.
To test the waters, you removed your hands from the equation.
To your surprise, Aang does not pull his hand away, resting it right where it was, fingers pressed into the drench fabric.
You shifted, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a deep embrace that forced him to hunch over and rest against you.
As you pulled him close, his face instinctively tucked away, hiding the sheer embarrassment of having his hand still buried between your thighs.
He could have moved. He should have. Yet, he stayed.
And he only melted further into you when your voice added—
"I really need you...Aang."
Apparently it had been enough to set him off, as you felt his fingers slip past the fabric failing to hold your desire, and his touch began experimental movements across the length of your folds, testing just how wet you really were.
"Hahh...!"
A breathless huff escaped you. The sensation of his fingers was far better than any fantasy had led you to expect.
Aang still hid his face against the curve of your neck, but you could feel his warmth radiating against you.
The sweat that had beaded on his forehead, cutting through the arrow, now getting smeared onto you.
It didn't bother you not when you could feel his ragged, confused breaths fanning against your skin.
Dropping one arm from around him, you slid it between your thighs, pressing yourself against his hand to encourage him to dip inside.
He complied, though with a heavy hesitation, taking a few agonizing seconds to decide which finger would breach you first.
A moan escaped you, only to be stifled as you bit down hard on his shoulder. The memory of Katara looking for him just moments ago flashed through your mind.
You silently wished the fellow Water Tribe girl wouldn't ruin this moment for you.
Not when you were so close to having him.
Aang remained pressed against your shoulder, his mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. The frantic beating of his heart was uncontainable, and he knew you could surely feel the thud of it against your own skin.
His mind drifted to Katara. He remembered when they had finally seemed to have something, only for her to put a hold on it never speaking of it again, acting as if nothing had changed.
But you were right here, soaking his hand with a heat that was clearly a desperate need for him.
Sure, you had turned him down, but you were kids! And he was annoying and unserious back then.
And he had insulted your tribe's customs, likely offending you far more than he had ever intended.
He had spent so long thinking you hated him, never realizing that you had been caring for him all along.
And he had denied you that care, never once coming to visit.
He was torn.
He was caught between the woman who had shut him down when they were children, the one he held right here beneath his fingers, and the woman he had spent nearly a decade with, only to be turned away just as they had finally made progress.
Unable to decide, he forced himself to focus on the way you wrapped around his fingers, feeling the warmth of your honeyed walls clinging tightly to him.
"Have you...done this before?"
Your voice came in a breathless rasp, finally pulling away from his shoulder where you had been biting down to muffle your cries.
He couldn't be dishonest with you, but his voice failed him; instead, he answered with a silent nod.
You felt the small, hesitant shake of his head against your shoulder. You already knew his answer, after all you had overheard enough of Katara's words to lead you to this very moment.
"Would you like to...tell me who...it was?"
You pressed the question, struggling to keep your moans contained as your focus drifted from the slow pumping of his fingers.
Fuck...he was doing so good.
Aang still couldn't find his voice; worse, he felt too exposed, too shy to answer.
He found a strange comfort in the way you gave him an option. You hadn't demanded a name or forced him to relive the details; you had simply asked if he wanted to share.
He figured that since you cared for him so deeply, you would never hold his past against him. With that thought, he responded with a small shake of his head.
He disagreed.
If you hadn't already known about him and Katara, his disagreement to sharing the name would have bothered to no extent. But knowing the truth made his hesitation sting.
Still, in this moment, his reluctance only worked in your favor.
You shifted your weight, swapping your arms; you replaced the one draped over his shoulders with the one that had been aiding him, bringing it down to join his hand between your thighs.
Your now free hand reached up to his head, stroking softly against his skin as you whispered—
"Okay. You don't have to tell me."
You spoke softly, a gentle balm intended to soothe his nerves.
Minutes passed as his fingers continued their work, though in the lulls, he opened his eyes to gaze at the city sprawling below.
Even though they were on the topmost floor of Katara's home, they weren't entirely invisible. They weren't high enough to be truly hidden; while a passerby at this hour was rare, it wasn't far from impossible.
If anyone were to look up, they would find the Avatar in a very compromising position.
But he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when it felt like he was searching for the lost puzzle piece of his life inside your cunt.
You on the other hand were thoroughly enjoying yourself, completely dazed under Aang's tentative touch.
But of course, it was only a matter of time before someone had to ruin it.
You didn't see who it was; all you noticed was the sudden creak of the door as the corridor light spilled into the room, a sharp intrusion that made you instinctively push harder against Aang.
"Someone is here, Aang straighten up!" you ordered in a hurried whisper. He barely seemed to register the command, so you pushed against his shoulders with renewed urgency, forcing him to straighten up and take a frantic step back.
"Oh! There they are!" Sokka's voice cut through the silence, muffled and faint behind the balcony door. You knew you only had a few seconds before he made his way over.
Moving with desperate grace, you caught Aang's hand, guiding it out from inside you.
You brought his hand up to your face, and he watched, mesmerized, as you used both hands to direct him.
You pressed his slick fingers against your lips, observing his wide eyes as you slowly dragged the wetness down, your bottom lip bouncing back into place as the finger passed.
His first real reaction came when you took those same fingers into your mouth, cleaning them with a slow, deliberate sweep of your tongue before letting them fall.
His lips pressed together in a tight, pained line as you licked your own, wiping your tongue across your bottom lip while keeping his gaze locked onto yours.
It was only when Sokka finally swung the balcony door open that you used a free hand to casually wipe the remaining moisture from your mouth.
"Do you have any idea how long we've been looking for you?"
Sokka's voice came first. You still could not properly see him with Aang standing between you and the entrance, though the annoyance in his tone painted the expression well enough.
"Why would you guys come all the way up here?"
Katara spoke next.
Instinctively, your attention flicked back toward Aang, searching immediately for some reaction at the sound of her voice.
There was none.
He remained entirely absorbed in the moment you had dragged him into, eyes fixed stubbornly on your mouth as though he still felt your lips around his fingers.
And because he was looking at you so devotedly, you knew you could not risk letting your satisfaction show.
So you put on a usual cheeky smile.
Leaning slightly to the side, you finally stepped into view of the Water Tribe siblings.
"Katara! Sorry for intruding around your house," you said easily. "I just needed some air and ended up finding Aang here."
You smiled sweetly while speaking to her.
"It's alri—"
Katara barely managed half the sentence before Aang interrupted unexpectedly.
"Could you guys give us a moment?"
Even while speaking, he never looked away from you.
"What?" Sokka laughed. "You guys talking about something we're not allowed to hear?"
The joke landed far closer to the truth than he realized.
"We were discussing your birthday present," you answered smoothly before Aang could attempt it himself. "You don't want us ruining the surprise, do you?"
The lie came easily, effortless beneath your smile.
"Oh, sweet." Sokka grinned immediately. "Come on then, you two. Aang's still not off the hook for abandoning his drink after one sip."
You nodded along lightly at his teasing.
"Come on, Katara."
He motioned toward his sister, though Katara still had not taken her eyes off Aang.
"Your robes are clean now," she told him quietly. "You can dry them out and put them back on."
She was waiting for him to answer.
You truly expected him to.
But after several seconds passed in silence, with Aang still standing there looking entirely lost in you, you finally spoke for him instead.
"He'll be there in a minute," you said gently.
Katara's expression shifted almost imperceptibly at that, though all she gave in response was a small nod.
The siblings eventually turned away, disappearing back through the doorway.
You missed the way Sokka's smile slowly faded the moment they left the room, suspicion settling quietly beneath his expression.
The second they disappeared from sight, you turned back toward Aang and lifted your arms around his shoulders, slowly pulling his face closer to yours.
"Aang..."
He said nothing.
For one horrible second, you genuinely wondered whether you had pushed him too far, whether everything you had carefully built tonight had finally cracked beneath the weight of your own desperation.
Still, you forced yourself to continue.
"I have certain feelings for you, and..."
You let the sentence trail off deliberately, lowering your eyes for only a moment to see whether he would follow.
He did, meeting your eyes quickly.
"...If you feel the same," you continued softly, "or even if you don't...I would rather you tell me honestly instead of making me guess."
He still doesn't say anything, and suddenly you became painfully aware of the fact he still was not touching you back.
His hands remained tightly wrapped around the balcony railing while he stayed slightly hunched within your hold, breathing harder than before yet making no move toward you at all.
So you leaned in first.
Your lips barely brushed his, letting it rest against him softly, giving him every opportunity to close the distance himself if he wanted to.
You waited.
But when nothing came from him, you slowly pulled away again, forcing yourself to accept the rejection with whatever dignity you still had left.
You released him completely after that.
Without another word, you moved past him and made your way back toward the room alone, fixing your appearance along the way while trying not to think too hard about the humiliation burning through your chest.
By the time you reached the room again, Zuko was approaching from the opposite hallway carrying a rolled mattress beneath one arm.
"You're staying over?" You asked quietly, falling into step beside him.
"We all are," he answered simply while pushing the door open. "Sokka's idea."
"Let me help."
You moved beside him automatically, helping spread the mattress across the floor while the others continued setting up the rest nearby.
Several minutes later, Aang finally returned.
The moment he stepped back into the room, nearly everyone looked up toward him automatically while Katara quietly approached with his robes folded neatly in her arms, still slightly damp from washing.
"Thanks..." he says, accepting them with a small smile though noticeably avoiding her eyes.
With one absent motion of his hand, warm air rushed through the fabric until the remaining dampness vanished completely, pulling the robes back on quickly.
Aang let out a distracted hum first, clearly taking a second to even process the question.
"Y-yeah! Yeah, I'll stay." He answered.
Then he moved toward the others to help arrange the remaining mattresses across the floor.
You noticed immediately how carefully he avoided looking at you.
Humiliation crawled so violently through your chest that for one awful moment you genuinely thought you might burst into tears right there in front of everyone.
So, you decided to play your final card.
After finishing helping Toph with one of the mattresses, you slowly rose to your feet. The others remained distracted arranging blankets and arguing over sleeping spots, giving you the perfect moment to speak.
"I'm sorry, guys." You said quietly, right before the final mattress could be laid down properly.
"I think I'll head back to the inn for the night."
Almost immediately, Suki looked up in concern, her attention catching on your agitated expression.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah." You forced a faint smile.
"I don't think the wine sat right in my stomach, and I'd rather be alone before it gets worse."
The excuse sounded embarrassingly pathetic even to you, though thankfully nobody questioned it.
You had barely managed three steps toward the hallway when Aang's voice suddenly cut through the room behind you.
"Wait—"
The word came out louder than he intended, pulling the attention of everyone gathered across the floor. Conversations halted almost immediately, Sokka halfway through unfolding another mattress while Suki looked up from where she sat beside him.
Even Katara paused mid movement, fingers still curled around the edge of folded blankets.
Aang looked momentarily caught off guard by the silence he had created, standing near the doorway with his robes hanging loosely from his shoulders.
His eyes found yours first before quickly shifting toward the others.
"I'll be back. I'll just walk her back. It's late." He said, clearing his throat once.
You stopped at the sound of him volunteering himself so quickly, though you made sure not to turn around immediately.
The smile threatening to betray you curled against your mouth before you forced it back down, lowering your head just enough to hide it beneath the curtain of your hair.
Behind you came the soft sound of approaching footsteps.
You finally glanced sideways once his presence settled near enough to feel, only to notice your shadow disappearing beneath his entirely, swallowed whole against the wooden floorboards.
"Let's go."
You nodded softly before leaning sideways toward the room, offering everyone one last smile.
"Goodnight."
A chorus of sleepy replies followed, though the atmosphere had shifted too strangely.
You stepped into the hallway first, Aang close behind you.
Perhaps Katara already understood he would not be returning tonight.
Perhaps all of them did.
Because right before Aang had pulled his robes back on, the mark you left behind had not gone unnoticed.
The bite pressed near his shoulder stood out plainly against his skin for one terrible second before fabric covered it again, though one second had been more than enough.
Enough for Sokka's expression to flatten beneath confusion.
Enough for Suki's eyes to widen before she quickly looked away.
Enough for Katara to go completely still.
No one spoke of it.
They simply resumed around the absence, voices awkwardly finding each other.
Toph remained the only one untouched by the shift in atmosphere, still arguing with Zuko over where she wanted to sleep while the rest of them waited quietly for the Avatar's return despite knowing, somewhere deep down, that he would not be coming back anytime soon.
The walk back to the inn passed beneath a suffocating silence, neither of you quite knowing what could possibly be said after what had happened on that balcony.
Aang stayed half a step ahead the entire way, shoulders tense beneath his robes, attention fixed stubbornly on the empty streets ahead rather than you.
You noticed it after the second block.
His hand.
The same hand that had been between your thighs less than half an hour ago kept flexing at his side every few moments, fingers curling tightly into his palm before releasing again, restless and agitated.
Once, he nearly lifted it toward his face before abruptly stopping midway, jaw tightening faintly as he forced it back down again.
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling.
Because despite the distance he was trying so desperately to create between himself and what happened, his body had already betrayed him entirely.
By the time you reached the inn, the silence between you had grown so dense it nearly felt tangible.
Aang stopped only once the two of you stood at the entrance, the lantern hanging beside gate casting a dim glow across the side of his face.
For the first time since leaving Katara's house, he finally looked at you properly.
"Okay. Goodnight." He said after a moment.
You watched him step past you.
And just before he could get too far, you finally spoke.
"Come to my room, Aang."
He stopped instantly.
For a second he did not move at all, standing there with his back turned toward you before slowly facing you again.
The flush across his face had not faded in the slightest, still spread stubbornly over his cheeks and ears while confusion sat plainly beneath it.
You tilted your head slightly.
"Did you really come all this way just to say nothing?"
Aang opened his mouth briefly, only for whatever response he meant to give to die somewhere before reaching his tongue.
His attention slipped away from you again, landing somewhere near the floor while his hand flexed once more at his side.
Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you.
You turned before he could second guess himself, walking down the hallway with measured steps while his followed close behind you.
Neither of you spoke as you unlocked the door, pushing it open before stepping aside to let him enter first.
Aang hesitated slightly before walking in.
You shut the door behind you and leaned against it for one brief moment, fingers still curled around the handle while your heartbeat thundered violently against your ribs.
Because all you could think now was—
It was now or never.
"Aang." You call out softly, just his name, testing the weight of it.
He flinches like you've struck him. His shoulders drop, his head bowing as if he's suddenly carrying the weight of the entire world again.
"I shouldn't be here," he whispers into the quiet of the room, his voice cracking enough to show how close he is to snapping.
"I should go back. It's not right, and—"
"It's not right," you interrupt, your voice dropping an octave. You take one step closer, watching him tense.
"But you want to stay. You want this so badly it's making you tremble, Aang."
He lets out a ragged, broken sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan as he finally looks up. His eyes are wide and desperate with of confusion.
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?" You're in his space now, close enough to feel the heat coming off him.
You reach out, your fingertips barely grazing the fabric of his robes along his collarbone where you bit him earlier.
He shudders at the proximity, his breath hitching.
"You can go back to being the perfect Avatar, the perfect friend, the perfect everything. You can walk out that door right now and pretend this never happened."
You lean in closer, your lips brushing his ear, your voice a velvet promise.
"But you won't. Because for the first time in your entire life, you're going to choose what you want. Not what's right or expected of you. Just what you want."
You pull back enough to catch his gaze, your eyes dark with the truth of it.
"So tell me, Aang. Are you really going to walk out that door?"
He moves away from you, crossing to reach your bed.
Aang sinks onto the edge of your bed, burying his face in his hands as if he can squeeze the conflicting thoughts right out of his skull.
You move to sit beside him, your thigh brushing his, and the way he flinches even now makes your pulse thrum.
"Why is this bothering you so much?" You ask softly, your voice a gentle caress against his turmoil.
"It's not..." He chokes out the lie, his fingers digging into his scalp.
"It's just...everything changed. The way I look at you, the way you look at me it's like the world shifted and I don't know where my feet are supposed to land."
He turns his head, searching your face for something an explanation, a reason.
He finally asks—
"What do you need from me?"
You paused, not having expected it but grateful for his question nonetheless.
"I just want you." You say simply.
He stares at you, eyes wide and searching, trying to untangle the knots you've tied in his mind.
You don't make him wait.
You stand, moving between his knees as you straddle him, settling yourself firmly in his lap.
His hands hesitate in the air, fingers twitching as if they want to catch you, to hold you and then they drop, fists clenching at his sides as he forces himself to stay still.
"I will give you everything you want, Aang," You promise him, leaning in until your breath fans over his lips.
"I will never disappoint you. I'll give you a home. Children. A safe place where you can just be Aang. No burdens."
The silence that follows is different, heavy with the weight of the life you've just offered him.
Finally, he finds his voice.
"Why...?"
"Because I want to." You say, the words sure and steady.
"I want to be your wife."
Aang's entire body stills.
His eyes widen, his breath hitching in his throat as if you've just knocked the wind out of him.
"Why...why would you want that?" He sounds genuinely lost, as if you've just spoken a language he doesn't understand.
"Because..." You hesitate, letting out a chuckle as you see him unconsciously lean closer in patience.
"I love you," you say, leaning forward to press your forehead against his, closing your eyes.
"And I want you to be free."
You stay there for a moment, letting the weight of your confession settle.
When you pull back, he's looking at you with an expression you can't quite read.
It was something between awe and sheer terror.
For a long painful while, Aang said nothing at all.
His eyes slowly slipped shut, his head lowering slightly while his fingers tightened into fists.
You watched the conflict move across his face in, watching him sit there trying to untangle every thought pulling him apart from the inside.
And suddenly, fear crawled its way up your spine. It truly felt possible that he might pull away from you completely.
"You will have to come live in Republic City," He says quietly.
You were snapped out of your wallowing thoughts.
When you finally replayed the moment, his sentence barely registered.
You were still too focused on the fear twisting inside your chest, too busy preparing yourself for rejection to properly process what he had actually said.
Then the meaning finally settled into place.
Your head snapped up immediately, as you froze, pulling back to stare at him in shock.
"Are you...agreeing?"
He hesitates, his throat working as he swallows hard. Then, slowly, he nods.
You can't help it; a squeal of pure triumph escapes you.
"Thank you, Aang!"
You lunge forward to hug him again, the momentum sending you both backward onto the mattress.
When you sit back up, Aang's breath hitches.
His eyes go wide as you reach for the hem of your top and pull it over your head in one fluid motion.
The fabric slides off your shoulders, leaving you bare chested in the dim light, your nipples already peaked from the adrenaline.
"What are you doing?" He almost exclaims, his voice cracking. He wrenches his gaze away, jaw tight, shoulders hunching as if he's trying to make himself smaller.
"Isn't this why you came here?" You tilt your head, watching him through your lashes, your voice dropping into that sweet, manipulative purr.
"We still have things to talk about," He says, forcing himself to sit up straighter.
He stares at your face with desperate intensity, pointedly ignoring the way your breasts are inches from his chest.
"Do you...not want me?" You let the question hang, making your voice go small, making your eyes well with perfectly calculated tears.
"That's not—!!" He cuts himself off, the confession dying in his throat.
"Then kiss me..." You whisper, the command soft but absolute.
Another moment passes in a thick and suffocating silence before he finally gives in.
He leans in, his movement hesitant as he presses his lips to yours.
It's not the confident kiss of a man who knows what he wants, it's the kiss of someone who's finally stopped fighting the inevitable.
You let the kiss linger, pressing into him enough to leave him breathless, then pull back with a shy, triumphant smile.
"There..." You whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Before he can answer, you reach for the ties of his robes.
Your movements are swift as you undo the knots.
Aang freezes, his breath hitching in his throat, but he doesn't pull away.
You peel the heavy fabric from his shoulders, exposing the broad span of his back and the striking blue line that curves down his spine. His skin is hot beneath your palms, and you feel the way his muscles jump at your touch.
"You're so beautiful." You coo, your voice a velvet caress as you slide the robes down his arms, leaving him bare chested.
The arrowheads on his hands flex as he grips the mattress, knuckles white, his chest heaving.
You shift your weight, moving from his laps as you sink to your knees onto the ground between his legs, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
"May I?" you ask, your hands already moving to the waistband of his pants.
Aang makes a sound like he's choking on it.
"I... yes," He manages, his voice barely a whisper.
When you finally free him, he's already past the point of no return.
You take him in your hands first, stroking him slowly, watching his head fall back as his hand tremble to hold his weight upright.
Then you lean in.
The first touch of your lips makes him gasp, his hips jerking up involuntarily.
You go slow, teasing him, swirling your tongue around the head, catching every drop of pre cum.
You want him to feel every sensation, to realize exactly what he's been missing. You take him in deep, inching slowly as your throat tightens around him, and the sound that leaves him is raw and broken.
"Spirits, please..." He moans, his fingers digging harshly into the sheets.
"Do you like this, Aang?" You murmur against him, pulling back enough to look up at him.
"Do you like how I take care of you?"
You let the question hang in the air, your tongue slowly tracing the length of him again, making him whine that sweet, broken sound that tells you exactly how close he is.
You can feel the way he's trembling beneath your touch, his breath coming in shallow, uneven hitches.
"Shh, I know," You whisper against him, your lips barely brushing the sensitive skin.
"I've got you, Aang. Let me take care of you."
You keep your movements agonizingly slow.
You drag your tongue up and down, teasing the ridge with just enough pressure to make his hips twitch involuntarily before you pull back.
You want him suspended here right on the edge of conflict and emotion, hoping it might bring out some of his truth out with it.
His hand moves, finding the top of your head.
His fingers tangle in your hair, not pulling you but holding you there, grounded by the contact.
"You're...you're making it so hard," He chokes out, his eyes squeezed shut, his head lulling back and forth.
"Is it too much?" You murmur, your voice dripping with fake concern as you take him deeper.
You swirl your tongue around the tip, and the sound he makes, that wrecked, desperate whimper is better than any confession he could have given you.
You keep your pace steady, your eyes never leaving his face as you watch him whimper breathlessly.
You lean back to press a soft kiss to his inner thigh, your lips barely grazing him, and hear him catch his breath sharply.
"Please..." He pleads, his voice cracking. "I don't... I don't know how to "
"It's okay," You interrupt softly, your hands sliding up his thighs to feel the taut muscle there.
"Just feel it, Aang. Just feel how good this is."
You go back down, your tongue working in slow, deliberate circles, teasing the sensitive skin just below the head.
When his hips buck upward, nearly meeting you halfway, you pause, pulling back once again to look up at him through your lashes.
His chest is heaving, his skin flushed, those arrowhead on his hand flexing as he dug into the bedding.
"Do you want more?" You ask, your voice a velvet trap.
He can't even find words.
He just nods, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.
You take him in deep, your throat tightening around him, letting out a soft, satisfied hum as you feel him shudder underneath you.
You keep it slow, tantalizingly close to the edge, making him feel every single second of it.
You pull away abruptly, the sudden absence of your warmth making him let out a pathetic, wounded hiss through his teeth.
You can't help the laugh that escapes you as you watch his hand leave your head and meet the mattress again, eyes glazed over and unfocused.
"You said earlier you've done this before," You state, moving your hand to resume that slow, torturous slide up and down his length.
"Did she not do this...?"
Aang shakes his head, his entire body betraying him as a fresh bead of pre cum wells at the tip.
He doesn't know you already know. He doesn't know you've already heard the truth, and you savor that.
"What did you do then?" You ask, your voice dripping with faux innocence.
"I...I used my fingers on her..." He trails off, his blush deepening to a feverish red that stains his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
"Then I tried to..."
"Go on..." You encourage, stopping your hand entirely.
You watch the way his breath hitches at the sudden lack of friction, his hips twitching upward instinctively.
"I used my mouth..." He chokes out, his voice barely audible. "But she didn't like it..."
"Not everyone enjoys it." You say with a gentle shrug.
"It difficult, being so exposed to the person you like..." Trailing off, you wait for a nuance, but his breathless gasps continue.
"Had she asked you to do it?"
"No..." He says immediately, the word tumbling out with a touch of guilt.
"I just...I didn't want it to hurt her when we..."
You pout.
"How sweet of you, Aang," You coo, resuming the rhythmic movement of your hand.
His hips jerk in place, his breath hitching as he fights to keep it together.
"And then what happened?"
"Then we did... it." He groans, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Is she still in your life?" You question, watching to see if he would finally admit it.
"We never spoke about it after..."
"Oh, you poor thing..." You murmur, letting go of him entirely as you move upward to wrap your arms around him.
You press your face into the crook of his neck, feeling the rapid thudding of his heart.
"I would never deny you like that, Aang. Never."
The silence stretches and the weight of your words fall thick around you.
Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms come around you. His touch is almost reverent, his fingers curling into your back as he pulls you flush against him.
"Thank you..." He whispers into your hair, so quiet you almost miss it.
You pull back to look him in the eyes, your expression a mask of perfect, gentle understanding.
"Would you like to...try it with me?"
He doesn't hesitate this time. He nods, his grey eyes focused on yours with a look of surprising relief.
"Okay." You say, your smile widening just a fraction too far to be entirely innocent.
"I think we can skip a step, since you've already used your fingers earlier tonight. Not that I'm opposed." You give a gentle wink, making him shyly avert his gaze.
The air in the room feels like it might combust from the sheer, unadulterated tension as you slide off his lap, the movement agonizingly slow.
The sound of your skirt hitting the floor is the only thing breaking the silence, followed by the sight of your soaked underwear being peeled away.
Aang's breath hitches audibly as he watches you maneuver onto the bed.
His eyes drop to where you're sitting back against the pillows, legs spreading open to reveal everything to him, glistening and swollen in the dim light.
He looks completely undone.
He crawls forward on his knees, hovering over you like he's approaching something sacred, his hands trembling as they ghost over your thighs.
When his thumb finally makes contact, pressing against your already swollen folds, you can't help it that sharp hiss escapes your teeth.
"Hahh!"
You arch slightly, your fingers digging into the bedsheets.
You look down at him through your lashes, voice breathless and strained.
"Do you...know what to do?"
Aang shakes his head, his face flushed a deep, burning red.
He looks absolutely terrified to mess this up, yet the need in his eyes is undeniable.
Without waiting for another word, he leans forward, his tongue darting out to taste you.
The contact makes your hips jerk upward, and when he pulls back, a long, broken moan tears from your throat.
You can feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer desperation in his movements.
"That's okay..." You say, your voice dropping into as devastatingly sweet, encouraging tone.
You reach down, your palm cupping his cheek, forcing him to look up at you while his mouth is still wet from you.
The arrow on his head catches the light, his pupils dilated and hazy with need.
"I...I will help you..."
You slide your hand over his head, guiding him back down, pressing him closer until his lips meet you again.
Under your hand, you can feel the way he shudders, gasping against you as he finally lets himself lose control, his tongue working with a clumsy, earnest passion that makes your vision blur.
The way he's looking at you right now dazed and flushed, is better than any orgasm.
You reach down, your fingers spreading his lips apart just slightly so you can guide his face, your voice dropping into a low and instructional tone.
"No, not like that..." You mumble, your thumb grazing his bottom lip.
"Lower. Right...there."
You push him down, your hips tilting instinctively toward the contact. When his tongue finds the swollen nub of your clit, you let out a sharp, broken gasp that makes him jerk back.
"Slow down, Aang. Use the flat of your tongue. Don't...don't be so frantic."
He obeys instantly, his movements cautious and devout as if he's afraid he might get the same reaction he got last time.
But you can feel the desperation beneath his hesitation, the way his fingers curl into the flesh of your thighs, knuckles white.
You guide his head with your hands, showing him exactly how you want to be touched long, slow strokes that make your whole body tense, then quick, teasing laps that make your breath hitch.
"Yes...just like that,... You pant, your voice making the short hairs at the nape of his neck stand up.
"Oh Aang...! You're doing so good. So good for me..."
The praise is clearly working; you feel him adjust, his tongue finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl.
You can feel him watching you through his lashes, studying your face for every twitch of your lips and every stuttered breath.
You want him to see exactly what he's doing to you, to witness the way his tongue is pleasuring you unimaginably.
You tilt your head back and whisper his name like a mantra.
"That's it, Aang! Just like that...You're doing so well for me!"
You let your head fall back against the pillows, your breath coming in shallow, staggered gasps as you guide him. Your hand is gently pressing his face closer whenever he hesitates, whenever he pulls back to look at you with those wide, uncertain eyes.
"There...keep going—!" You moan, your hips tilting up of their own accord. "Right there!"
The ragged sound he makes when he's trying to be careful is more intoxicating than any physical sensation.
Every time your soft instructions pull a whimper from him, a spike of triumph shoots through you.
He's being so careful. So incredibly gentle with you, his tongue moving with a hesitant reverence that makes your stomach flip. He's trying to learn you, trying so hard to do this right, and the sheer vulnerability of it is what finally breaks you.
You did it.
You eyes flutter shut as another wave of pleasure rolls through you.
You actually did it.
The thought is more intoxicating than the sex itself.
The realization that you've dismantled the Avatar, stripped away the hero and the monk until all that's left is this raw, exposed boy who is so desperately trying to please you...it's better than anything you could have imagined when you started this a day ago.
"Y-you're doing so good..." You whisper the genuine praise that makes him shudder. His tongue sweeps again, longer this time, more confident, and you can't help the way your thighs tighten around his face, pulling him in.
"Just like that, Aang. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop...!"
You listen to the wet, slurping sounds of him working on you, the way he swallows every moan you let out, and you feel that possessive heat blooming in your chest.
He's not yours yet.
Not entirely.
But you can feel the shift in him.
The way he's clinging to you, the way he's listening to you.
When he finally presses his face harder against you, his breath hot against your damp skin, and you feel that first surge of your orgasm building.
You meet him halfway, your hips arching up, your fingers digging into his skin as you whisper his name like a prayer.
"That's it...oh spirits, Aang..."
You watch him through heavy eyelids, the way his jaw works, the way his eyes go unfocused as he feels you writhe under him.
And you realize that you're already planning how to make him do this again.
And again.
And again.
Until he doesn't even remember what it was like when you weren't the only thing he wanted to please.
"Aang, I'm—!" The words catch in your throat as a wave of pleasure begins to build harshly. "I'm going to—!"
"I've got you..." He mumbles against your skin, his voice thick and unrecognizable.
He presses his face into you, his tongue working with a sudden, focused intensity that shatters your last thread of control.
Your orgasm hits like a physical blow, your entire body going rigid as you cry out his name, sinking your fingers into his scalp as you come apart beneath him.
You feel him catch every drop, his tongue sweeping over you with a greedy thoroughness that leaves you shaking and breathless.
When you finally slump back, your chest heaving, your skin slick with sweat, he pulls back to look up at you.
His face is feverish, his lips wet, and his eyes are completely glazed with something that looks terrifyingly close to worship.
"Was that..." He starts, his voice cracking.
"Was that okay?"
You can't even find the words to tell him it was better than perfect.
You just reach down, your fingers trembling as you cup his face, pulling him back up for a kiss that tastes of you and him.
You guide his back to the pillows with gentle pressure from your hands on his shoulders, watching the way he settles beneath you, all broad shoulders and lean muscles, his tattooed arms splayed out like he's surrendering to something inevitable.
He looks utterly wrecked, his breathing still coming in ragged puffs, his gaze following your every movement with a mix of curiosity and unadulterated terror.
"I've got you..." You assure, your voice like honey as you straddle his hips.
You do not rush it.
You don't even move to come down on him yet.
You just sit there, your knees on either side of his thighs, feeling the heat radiating off him.
"Just breathe, Aang. Look at me."
His gaze snaps up to yours, so wide and vulnerable.
You reach down, your thumb grazing over his lips to wipe the remnants of your pleasure, and he lets out a choked sound when you touch him.
"Shh..." You coo, leaning forward until your breasts brush his chest, your nipples grazing against his skin.
"I'm going to be so careful with you. I promise."
When you finally lower yourself down, the way he gasps a broken, shattered sound that rips straight through your chest is almost enough to make you stop.
But you don't.
You sink down slowly, agonizingly slow, taking him in inch by inch.
You watch his eyes pull open before screwing shut the next second, his head falling back into the pillows as you fill yourself completely. You can feel his hands hovering just above your waist, trembling, wanting to grab you but terrified to do so.
"That's it..." You moan, your voice thick with the pleasure he's giving you.
"Oh Aang...you feel so good."
You start to move, but it's not fast. No matter how desperate you were, you do not pick up your pace.
You move slow, grinding back and forth on him.
You're taking your time, riding him with a languid motion that forces him to feel every single corner of you. You lean forward and whisper in his ear.
"Tell me what you want me to do, Aang. Tell me how you want me."
"I..." He swallows hard, his hands finally coming to rest on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with a desperation that makes your smile.
"I want you to...just like that. Please." His sentence was incomplete, but you understood plenty.
You let out a throaty moan, arching your back as you grind down on him, your moans getting louder, more shameless.
You want him to hear it. You want him to hear exactly what he's doing to you. You press your palms flat against his chest, feeling his heart hammering like a trapped bird beneath your touch.
"You're so beautiful..." You whisper, your voice trembling with genuine awe as your eyes brim with tears.
"My perfect, beautiful Aang."
The way he says your name after, in that broken, wrecked manner is when you know you've really done it.
You've broken him open.
And as you find your rhythm, as you ride him with the motive to give him that devastating pleasure, you know you're never letting him go.
You lean forward, as you press your chest against his, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your fingers find your own aching heat, working in a rhythmic counterpoint.
Aang is completely lost now, his head lolling back, his throat working around a broken moan as you guide him toward the edge.
"Aang..." You whisper against his skin, your breath hot making him shudder. You pull back, looking at him softly as you ghost your lips over his.
"I need you to...I need you to let go. Just like that. For me."
His fingers press into your waist with strength.
His eyes find yours, and for a moment, you finally see it.
The moment he decides to stop fighting.
When it happens, it's so beautiful.
You feel his entire body seize beneath you, his hips arching off the mattress as he finally breaks.
You don't even flinch when he gasps your name with a sob, pressing yourself down hard, grinding against him, ensuring every single drop of him is claimed.
You take it all, swallowing his release with a greedy, possessive whimper, your own orgasm crashing over you in that leaves you trembling.
You stay there for a long time, collapsed against his chest, listening to the frantic, uneven thudding of his heart.
You can feel the warmth of him still inside you, a thrumming weight that makes your stomach flip with triumph.
Slowly, you pull back. His eyes are still blown wide, staring at the ceiling with a look of complete, hollowed out shock.
He's breathing hard, his skin flushed, the arrow on his head a stark against his pale skin.
He looks utterly shattered, completely undone by you.
"Aang?" you whisper, your voice innocent.
He doesn't answer. He just lies there, staring, still taking long inhales through his nose.
You know exactly what you've done.
You've crossed a line he can never uncross.
You've claimed him in the most irreversible way, and you did it while making him think it was his choice.
"Oh, Aang..." You murmur, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek, your thumb tracing the curve of his lower lip.
"You were so good. So perfect."
His eyelashes flutter, and for a moment, you think he might cry. Then, his hand moves slow, hesitant and rests against your thigh. It's not a push away. It's still there.
“Weren’t you…supposed to…move?” he managed to choke out eventually, his eyes searching yours while you stared back at him in confusion.
For a moment, you genuinely had no idea what he meant.
So you simply waited for him to explain himself.
Except he never actually said it.
Instead, his attention dropped lower, landing where your bodies were still pressed together intimately, and realization hit you almost instantly.
You giggle, lowering your chest to his, as you hold him.
"I wanted it." You confess softly, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to his temple.
"I wanted you. All of you."
You stay there, wrapped around him, waiting.
Waiting for the moment he realizes he can't go back.
Waiting for the moment he accepts he's yours.
And as you feel him exhale, a long, shuddering breath that dissolves into that of relief, you know.
You've already won.
Months later, sometimes you still thought about the look on Katara's face when you and Aang announced not only that you were together, but that the wedding would follow two months later.
You had not enjoyed it.
That was perhaps the cruelest part of all this.
Beneath the jealousy, the selfishness, beneath the quiet satisfaction curling inside your chest, Katara had still been your friend.
The sight of her standing there so perfectly composed while grief leaked through the cracks of her face had filled you with immediate guilt.
But guilt did not undo anything.
She had her chance, and she let it pass her by with trembling hands and too much hesitation.
You had been offered the very same thing only once, and you had taken it without allowing yourself enough time to think twice.
That alone had decided everything.
It did not matter now anyway.
The damage had already settled itself between all of you.
You still saw them, of course.
Toph remained unchanged, thankfully immune to awkwardness, still insulting you with the same affection she always had.
Zuko treated everything with neutrality, though every now and then you would catch the faintest exhaustion in his eyes whenever tension filled the room for too long.
But Sokka had grown quieter around both of you, his easy laughter no longer arriving naturally, while Suki watched situations unfold with patience, refusing to interfere.
And Katara—
Katara tried.
Spirits, she really tried.
Yet there was only so much grace a person could carry before it started collapsing under its own weight.
The worst part was that none of them even lived in Republic City anymore except for her.
Despite it, you moved to the city.
You had promised Aang you would, and unlike everyone else, you never made promises to him you did not intend to keep.
The pregnancy had complicated things almost immediately.
Explaining why your stomach had already begun rounding before the wedding was difficult enough, though the true horror came when four months into your marriage you could no longer disguise it beneath layered robes and loose fabric.
People counted months cruelly.
Especially your own friends.
Still, none of them said anything directly.
Not even Katara.
Marriage itself settled around you strangely fast.
Domestic life came naturally, and it unexpected how easily your fell into it.
Slipping into place piece by piece until you could no longer imagine waking without Aang somewhere nearby.
Though 'nearby' often meant temporary.
He was gone more than he was home, forever chasing disasters across nations, disappearing on Appa before sunrise whenever the duties of the Avatar demanded him elsewhere.
Sometimes he would return exhausted enough to barely stay awake through dinner before collapsing beside you still half dressed.
Other nights he came home restless, carrying the weight of too many people needing too much from him all at once.
But whenever he was home, he loved you openly.
That was what mattered most.
By the seventh month of your pregnancy, Aang had developed the habit of kneeling in front of you every evening, pressing his ear against your stomach with complete seriousness while the twins shifted violently beneath your skin.
"They're arguing again." He would say thoughtfully.
You laughed every single time.
"They are not arguing."
"They definitely are. This one keeps kicking the other."
"They must have inherited your inability to sit still."
Aang only grinned before pressing another kiss against your stomach, completely unbothered by your jokes.
He was convinced both babies would be girls.
You remained certain one would be a boy.
Neither of you won.
The labor lasted nearly an entire night, leaving you exhausted beyond reason by the time the twins finally arrived screaming into the world shortly before dawn.
You gave birth to two boys.
Two impossibly tiny boys with lungs strong enough to wake half the district.
Aang cried harder than either of them did.
You would remember that forever.
The sight of him sitting beside you with one baby clutched awkwardly against his chest while the other rested in your arms, tears slipping down his face faster than he could wipe them away.
You knew he was overwhelmed by something too enormous to fit inside him.
They looked more like him than you from the very beginning.
Those very grey eyes. His nose. Their pale skin that scrunched impossibly whenever they cried too hard.
You could feel it already, that they would be very powerful.
He held those boys carefully, almost fearfully, as though he could not quite believe they were real.
Months later, late at night. you would often find yourself curled against Aang’s side in bed while the twins slept against his chest, tiny bodies rising and falling steadily.
Something deep in Aang seemed to settle whenever the twins were in his arms. The sight softened something deep inside him every single time.
“What’s wrong?” You asked once after catching him staring at them for far too long, distant thoughts clouding his face while one of the babies slept soundly beneath his chin.
Aang blinked before smiling faintly.
“Nothing.”
You leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss against his shoulder before settling back into his side again, one hand moving instinctively to pat the back of the baby resting on his chest while Aang carefully adjusted the other higher against him.
Then, after a while, his hand drifted absentmindedly toward one of the twins, fingertips brushing softly through the wisps of hair on his head just as a tiny gust of air stirred weakly around the tiny blankets.
The movement was small, but it made you go completely still.
Because suddenly, you understood.
After all, you had not simply become his wife.
You had become the future of the Air Nomads.
The only future left.
a/n: i laughed OUT LOUD on many occasions as i was editing it. but i still like it very much. so, i will sit in my shame like the clown that i am.
Naruto men's reaction to you all soft and overwhelmed, stating it's “too much.” Each man reacts in his own way: some fold, some mock, some push you deeper. This post includes Itachi Uchiha, Sasuke Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake, Madara Uchiha, Asuma Sarutobi, Omoi, Yamato, and Naruto Uzumaki.
𝅄18+ 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓓𝓸 𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝅄
Itachi Uchiha (my husband)
Your nails dig into his stomach, trembling, “Itachi—too much, please—” but he doesn’t falter. His cock grinds deeper, hips pressing flush until your spine arches sharp. He watches your face the way other men watch stars—calm, unreadable, but hungry. “You think this body decides when it’s done?” His voice is low, cruel. “No, it’s mine now.” You squirm, try to twist away, and he catches your wrists, pins them above your head with one hand. His thrusts sharpen, dragging every whimper out of you. “Beg prettier,” he mutters, teeth grazing your jaw. “Beg while I ruin you.” And when you do, soft voice choking on filthy words, he smirks like a man watching something sacred shatter. “That’s better. Take it. Every inch.” He doesn’t pull out. He never does until he feels you break.
꒰͡⠀𝅄⠀͡꒱
Sasuke Uchiha
You shove at his chest, gasp out that he’s too deep, that you can’t—but Sasuke only sneers, dark eyes narrowed. “You always say that. And you always cum like this.” He grabs your ankles, bends you in half, cock punching deeper than you thought you could take. You cry out, nails raking his arms, and he growls, “Scratch me harder. See what happens.” Every thrust is punishment, sharp and merciless, his dick battering that soft spot until you’re moaning uncontrollably. He drags his thumb across your lip, shoves it into your mouth. “Bite it. Bite down like you do on my arm. You’re not getting away.” You choke around the pressure, broken little moans spilling, and he laughs—short, bitter. “Pathetic. Still begging when this pussy’s dripping for me.”
꒰͡⠀𝅄⠀͡꒱
Kakashi Hatake
You push weakly at his abs, whining, “Kashi—it’s too much—” and for a second, he actually slows. Lets you breathe. Lets you think he’s merciful. He strokes your cheek, kisses your temple. “Too much, hm? You’re doing so well.” His hips roll shallow, teasing, and you think maybe he’ll ease up—until his hand clamps your thigh, drags you back down his cock. Hard. Deep. You cry out, squirm, but he only chuckles in your ear. “Feel that? That’s me all the way inside. That’s where you like it.” He keeps the strokes shallow, cruel in their restraint, until you’re grinding down desperate. Then he slams up, sudden and brutal, making you see stars. “Told you. This is how you fall apart.”
#need that
꒰͡⠀𝅄⠀͡꒱
Madara Uchiha
Your body twists, tries to crawl up the sheets, and his hand snaps around your waist, yanking you back onto his cock. Madara doesn’t fuck—he conquers. “Running?” he mocks, voice rich with disdain. “As if your cunt isn’t swallowing me whole.” You gasp, push at his stomach, beg for him to ease—but he only grins sharp, cruel, dragging you back against him until you’re impaled, stuffed. His thrusts are savage, each one punctuated by your strangled moans. “Too much? No. Not enough. You’ll take more.” His palm lands heavy on your ass, the sting mixing with the stretch. “You asked for me, remember? Now you’ll suffer me.” He fucks until your body goes limp, then whispers, dark and low, “Good girl. That’s what surrender looks like.”
yes, please
꒰͡⠀𝅄⠀͡꒱
Asuma Sarutobi (I love him sm)
You’re gasping, hands trembling as you try to push him off, voice breaking, “Asuma, please—just slow—” He grits his teeth, sweat dripping into his beard, but he does soften for a beat. His pace eases, dick dragging long and heavy through your walls. He kisses your jaw, murmurs, “Sweetheart, I’ve been starving for this.” His hands squeeze your hips, grounding. But the way you clench, the way your body trembles—it tips him over. He growls low, starts rutting harder, deeper, until the bedframe rattles. “I can’t stop. You feel too damn good.” Your protests melt into moans, and he swallows them with his mouth, fucking you rougher despite the tears on your lashes. “Don’t push me away. Take it. Take all of it.”
꒰͡⠀𝅄⠀͡꒱
Omoi
You whimper that it’s too much, your thighs trembling, nails scratching down his arms. Omoi freezes, breathless, wide-eyed like he might actually stop. “Shit—you okay? Am I hurting you?” His voice is worried, but when you nod, teary and whisper, “Feels too good, just—too much,” he exhales shaky, relief and lust tangled. His thrusts turn gentler, but not weaker—slow, grinding, deliberate. He cups your face, whispers, “Pretty girl, I’ll never hurt you. But I’m not pulling out, not when you’re this sweet.” His praise spills between kisses, between groans. “God, you’re perfect. Look at you—cryin’ for me.” He makes you take it, but soft, coaxing, letting you drown in the stretch until your body gives in, trembling all over him.
I want him...real bad.
꒰͡⠀𝅄⠀͡꒱
Yamato
Your back arches, hands clawing at the sheets, voice weak, “Yamato—please, too deep—” He pauses, steady even in the heat. His hand rubs your spine, soothing, like he’s grounding you. “I know. Breathe for me.” He eases his hips, pulls back until just the tip rests inside. You exhale shaky relief—and then he pushes in slow, agonizing, until you’re stuffed full again. “See? You can take it.” His tone is calm, but edged with hunger. He grips your waist, holds you down firm when you try to lift away. “Don’t run. Not from me.” His thrusts stay measured, deep and steady, until your whines break into moans. He bends close, lips brushing your ear. “Good girl. That’s it. Take it all for me.”
꒰͡⠀𝅄⠀͡꒱
Naruto Uzumaki
You dig your nails into his back, biting at his shoulder, whining, “Naruto, it’s too much—please—” and he freezes for half a second, breath stuttering like he might stop. But then your walls flutter around him, milking him, and that little shred of mercy burns away. His jaw tightens, blue eyes gone dark as he fists your hair and growls, “Too much? Then why the hell are you dripping all over my cock?” He doesn’t slow. If anything, he pounds harder, forcing you to take him deeper, rougher, until your voice breaks into sobs. Your body squirms, tries to pull back, and he snarls, slamming you flat into the mattress, chest pinning you down. “Don’t you dare run from me. You waited for me, remember? You said you wanted all of me.” His hand slides down, thumb rubbing your clit cruel and fast, the pleasure sparking against the overwhelming stretch until your legs give out.
there was no way you were this eager to fuck him of all people: your giddy demeanor and permanent smile had rubbed off on others, him the most after the divorce. almost as soon as he slipped off that ring, you slipped your hands into his shirt, soothingly rubbing circles into the soft tissues under his burning skin.
he - he probably shouldn’t be doing this…
“sh - shh, baby, y’re gonna wake up the whole town…” driving you home was supposed to be a favor, but you turned to give his a peck on the cheek, then your hand found his chest, then your lips found his, a shy peck, and then you were bouncing on his lap in the driver’s seat —
“sorry…! sorry…!” that cracking voice, desperate and out of breath, hips slipping up then down as you tried to take all of him, as much as gravity and your eager hole could take (he’d give everything you wanted, as much as you want, at any time). “just - just feel - ooh, ugh - so good…! I been - been wanting this since I met you… holy shit, you’re so good, you smell so good — you - you feel so good, Sammy —“ you babble, sinking down to let him bottom out to the hilt.
you feel it knock into that spot and go still, mouth open wide and eyes rolling back, the muscles of your pussy choking his dick between spasms. “baby, w-wait —“
the warmth inside, the way it twitches… it was euphoric, like the first hit of a narcotic. how were you supposed to go on like this, with only one load in you? the emptiness before him stuffing you then filling you up was adjacent to a hollow cavern. a missing piece.
your eyes regain sight as you glance down to where you’re joined, then back up to his flushed, wide-eyed face. a rosy tint blossoms under his freckles.
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