Snowy

I write randomly and RARELY.

[spideyyeet]

➷ Unspoken Conditions ── ♪♪ ✦ ♪♪

[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students — with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds — that this was purely a sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else. [ frat!kuna fwb series ]

[ TAGS ] — MDNI. 18+ nsfw. contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. angst. friends with benefits. toxic frat culture. hazing. fraternity/sororities. hurt/comfort. hurt/no comfort. SLOW BURN. fluff. spit. ráw. rough. heavy spanking. degradation. dacryphilia. slight exhibitionisim. pda. soft sukuna. choso + yuuji r his younger brothers. every position. heavy creampies. violence. depression/anxiety. anger issues. squirting. cockwarming. alcohol. family death. family trauma. reader slightly oc. sukuna is a footballer (soccer) too. HAPPY ENDING. tags will be updated as series continues.

✮ ch 1 || how it all started ✮ ch 2 || miss me already?

✮ ch 3 || call me ✮ ch 4 || two worlds

✮ ch 5 || conditions ✮ ch 6 || cracks

✮ ch 7 || summer break ✮ ch 8 || oasis

✮ ch 9 || tbd ✮ ch 10 || tbd

✮ ch 11 || tbd ✮ ch 12 || tbd

✮ ch 13 || tbd ✮ ch 14 || tbd ✮ ch 15 || tbd

✮ pt 1 — sukuna is starting to toe the line

✮ pt 2 — you’re desperate to prove this is just sex

✮ pt 3 — cockwarming him for the first time

✮ pt 4 — sukuna’s brothers visit unexpectedly

✮ pt 5 — pregnancy scare with sukuna

✮ pt 6 — sukuna has a stash of naked polaroids of you

✮ pt 7 — halloween special: scare actor!sukuna

✮ pt 8 — sukuna’s noticeable bulge at the gym

✮ pt 9 — high stakes no nut november edition

✮ pt 10 — holiday special: grinch!kuna naughty or nice

✮ pt 11 — sukuna leaves his door open when you’re over

✮ pt 12 — sukuna realizes you’re ovulating. skinny dipping

✮ visuals ✮ ig ✮ bts lore ✮ playlist ♪ ✮ tiktok tag ✮

✮ pinterest board ✮ ask tag ✮ main masterlist ✮ ao3 ✮

[ INFO ] : the chapters are the actual series. it begins mid-spring semester JUNIOR year. the parts exist in the same story, but as stand alone canon oneshots and will not be mentioned in the chapters (like filler eps). they take place between sept-nov fall semester of their SENIOR year [parts and chps can be read separately]

THERE IS NO SERIES TAGLIST ✦ age should be visible on your blog tho (art: @/xhealer_ tt, dividers: @/lariesographic)

all rights reserved to ©spideyyeet

[reignpage]

For Extra Credit You Can Hit!!

Synopsis: Toji, the TA, won't bump up your latest essay a couple marks, not with just some begging at least, so you try a different method:

good ol' pussy persuasion

Warnings: toji art by @/youKa.i on insta, smut, porn with a lil plot, nerd!toji, a couple years older than reader but both students, reader harasses him but don't save him he's right where he wants to be, some comedy aspect, college au, non curse au, f!reader, blowjob under the desk, unethical behaviour, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, briefest choking, sex against the window, pússy inspection, belly bulging, overstimulation, spitting, a little fisting I guess or almost, Toji's poor so this is canon compliant jkjk, creampie and unprotected sex, brief pussyjob, size kink/difference, hidden sex, not proofread Word Count: 10.7k

“For the last time,” he drawls, “I’m not bumping you up a grade.”

You groan, pushing your legs to catch up to him faster.

“Come on, I need this. I’m not asking you to break the rules. All I want is for you to reread my essay and find extra marks, which you will!”

Toji Fushiguro is a tough nut to crack, though he doesn’t look it — one glance at him and one would think he’s a laidback TA. He’s the exact opposite; he takes his job a little too seriously. 

For days now, you’d been hounding him, pleading with him and degrading yourself all for him to ‘remark’ your last paper and ‘coincidentally’ find a few extra marks that would push you to the top performing spot you’d been eyeing since forever. Each time you rushed into his office, waited for him after his classes, and followed him to his apartment, he’d shrugged you off with the same ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’ look in his eyes. 

Rounding the corner, his long legs making no accommodations for your shorter ones, he says, “No. If you wanted better results, you should have put in a better performance. Surely you’re smart enough to work out that that’s how life works.”

Hands grab his arm, yanking back with all your strength only to be dragged along with him and his burly body. Your heels scrape along the floor. People stare. You don’t care. “Don’t be an asshole. You know my essay was good. It was really good. Just give it a read. A proper one, and not the rushed job you do because you’re overworked and underpaid.”

He stops.

Your face bumps into this back, forehead nearly bruised by the hardness. 

His brows rise above his glasses as he fixes you a look. “Kid, your essay was good — decent introduction, clear structure, sufficient evidence — but it’s not good enough for the extra marks to push you into the top band. Your closing argument fell flat ‘cause of your wishy-washy writing style, you didn’t adequately humour the counter arguments and undermine them to strengthen your thesis, and, worst of all, you misspelt ‘complement.’”

A frown graces your features. 

“No, I didn’t. C. O. M. P. L. I. M—”

“No. With an I, it’s to flatter someone. With an E, it’s to enhance, pair well, or complete another thing.” Toji explains rather robotically, eyes still dead and voice monotone. “For example, if I said you’re a pretty girl, that’s a compliment. And if I said, your essay goes well with the trashcan over there, that’s a statement that suggests the two complement each other. See the difference?”

He’s already stalking off again, hands in his pockets, huge stature unwilling to accommodate the people walking down the hallway. 

You break into a jog, panting embarrassingly by the time you reach him. “Dude, we’ve known each other for three years. We’ve gone through a lot together. We’re basically friends. Can’t you do your best pal a solid?”

Toji glances down at you. He pushes a door open, holding it a second longer than he needed to. You follow behind him. Somewhat amused, he replies, “We know each other because we’re on the same course, not by choice. And I don’t know what you mean by the whole ‘we’ve gone through a lot together’ thing — the most dramatic thing we’ve faced is when the projector didn’t work and we had to go into a different hall. And we’re definitely not friends.”

Well, fuck, you’re running out of rope. 

“Then, let’s officially be friends,” you offer, elbowing him gently. “If you ever need help, buddy, I’ll always have your back.” Then, in an act of complete desperation, you begin shakily singing, “You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me. When the road looks tough ahead—”

A heavy hand shoves you away by your head. You stumble into a bulletin board.

“Enough,” he gruffs. “My day’s already fucked because the prof lost his papers and wants to blame me. I don’t need to lose my hearing on top of that.”

Your head flits around. “Did you guys see that?” People give you weird looks. “He just shoved me. The TA just shoved me. We need to protest his violent behaviour by demanding he remarks our papers. Who’s with me?”

Everyone walks past without another look at you.

Toji, on the other hand, lifts his glasses and runs a hand down his face. Muttering something under his breath, he pushes a door open and holds out a hand before you can mindlessly follow. “It’s the men’s bathroom. Tell me you’re not shameless and stupid enough to come in here.”

“I’ll wait outside.”

His eye twitches. 

As though an idea comes to him, he straightens ever so slightly. “I’m gonna take a dump; you’ll be waiting a while.”

“That’s okay — I have no more classes so take your time but make sure you don’t stay sitting down longer than you need to,” you tell him, smiling innocently and standing aside to let a guy walk out, ignoring the freaked out face he makes at you. “You can get hemorrhoids."

He groans. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman.” 

That seems to be as much of you he can tolerate because he walks in without another word to you. Opposite the door, you lean against the wall, whistling and coming up with alternative lines you can pull on him. 

God, he’s so stubborn. 

It’s not like giving you the marks docks his pay or lowers the professor’s opinion of him. He’s clearly just being an ass. 

If he wasn’t such a good TA, a genuinely intelligent man, you would have gone above his head and asked for the prof’s personal assessment. But no, he has to be knowledgeable, a helpful source of information when you’re lost, someone who seems to know everything about any topic, who knows the exact pages of a textbook you should read to further your understanding, and who’s never declined a meeting for clarification on something you wrote. 

For years now, you two have had a friendship-like relationship, often sharing snacks and exchanging brief words before or after lectures and classes, despite what he says.

Everyone gets along with him, though you’ve never actually seen him hang out with friends or go to parties. Maybe he doesn’t have any. Word on the street is he works part time in a couple different places. Some say so he can afford drugs, some for tuition. 

The rumours never interested you, apart from any that mused about his love life, which seems to be nonexistent except for the many girls who hit on him. Not that you’re especially interested.

It’s just fun to be in the know.

Who knows how long has passed since he went in there. Your phone says fifteen minutes. Is that a normal amount of time for someone to be taking a dump?

Hesitantly, you push the door open and yell out, “Fushiguro? You doing okay? Is it stuck? For a couple extra marks, I’ll give you a hand.”

No one replies. 

Brows furrowing, you bend down, looking through the stalls. No feet. What the hell?

Ahead, a window is ajar. Big enough for a man to squeeze through. Well isn’t that convenient? The kind of convenient that exists only in fiction.

Aggrieved and feeling bamboozled, you stomp back to your dorm room, slamming the door, jumping face down on the bed and screaming into the pillows. You’d feel better if you knew he had a grudge on you, if you bumped into him the first day and spilled his coffee all over himself and he’d never forgotten it. Instead, he’s just like that: does things by the book, does his job well, and achieves the best grades with ease. 

Naturally, he’d become the professor’s assistant, a coveted position that seemed like it was made for him from the very beginning, and made your life a living hell because he won’t ever make concessions for you.

Sure, you shouldn’t ask him to, but it’s not like you’re asking for much. You’re generally a high performing student — punctual, hard working, ambitious — but you had one bad day which resulted in one bad essay and it lowered your average and now the internship you’d been eyeing could be snatched from your hands in a blink of an eye. 

“It’s just not fair,” you cry out to your teddy bear. “It’s three marks. Three! Would it kill him to reread my essay and find those three marks?”

Mr. Teddy stares back at you and says, “He’s a grumpy man. Don’t take it personally.”

You sit up, blinking and processing his reply.

“Teddy…you’re right. He is a grumpy man, a TA with broad shoulders, yummy arms, and thick thighs with a bubble butt, but a man nonetheless. If he won’t pull favours for me, student to student, maybe he’ll pull favours for me man to woman.”

The plushie falls to the bed as you stand, staring at yourself in the mirror and formulating a plan. 

With that you decide to seek him out the next day, sporting a new outfit and a different attitude.

.

.

.

“Hi.”

“Fuck off.”

The cafeteria’s busy. It always is. It’s loud enough that most people wouldn’t even hear the exchange — chairs banging on tile, trays clattering, someone laughing too loudly at a table nearby. 

Toji’s hunched slightly over a bowl of udon noodles, chopsticks moving lazily as he slurps them down. Some sports clip plays on his phone, propped against his dented metal water bottle. Commentators yell about something you don’t understand. His sleeves are pushed up over his forearms, revealing ropey muscle and the faint silvery line of an old scar running across his wrist.

An old hoodie hangs off his shoulders over a plain white T-shirt. Distressed jeans, worn sneakers. He’s too big for the plastic chair, long legs spread under the table. When he saw you approach, his feet had hooked onto the chair legs, forcing you to fight to remove it from his clutches so you could take a seat.

So damn rude.

His glasses have fogged slightly from the steam of the noodles.

He doesn’t look up. But he knows it’s you. You can tell by the way his mouth tightens for half a second before he goes back to eating.

You snatch his phone away. His green eyes flick up, annoyed. You smile, arms pushing your breasts together so they spill over your tight top. Toji’s gaze doesn’t waver. He continues to stare at you like you’re a pest. 

“You can’t take no for an answer?” he asks though it’s not a question at all. “Might want to retake the consent course.”

Manicured fingers walk up his bare forearm before scratching down from his elbow. His skin is warm. Light dusting of hair tickling your fingertips. “Oh, Toj, have I ever told you how handsome you are? Because you really are. You’re so damn hot I can hardly focus on the lectures.”

He snorts, still eating his noodles and still refusing to look at your cleavage. “That’ll explain why you’re missing marks.”

Jaw dropping, you force yourself to recover quickly. A heeled foot brushes against his calf, sliding his jeans up. You bat your lashes, sultrily saying, “The only thing I’m missing is your cock in me, big boy.”

Toji meets your eyes again. His scarred lips twitch. “I don’t need to tell you that was bad, do I?”

You cringe, foot dropping and whole body slumping back into the chair. “Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.” Then you sit up, handing him his phone, and asks, “Are the noodles good? I’ve never had them.”

Phone pocketed, he shrugs. “They’re just the cheapest deal on the menu. Growing girl like you should get something more filling.”

The menu’s extensive, and the only thing sticking out to you is the chicken burger and chicken tenders meal deal. It seems to be especially popular today but you’re not sure you can finish the whole thing. 

“Hey, if I get the Meal Super Cluck Blaster, will you share it with me? I’ve got dinner plans later so I don’t want to fill up.”

That finally gets a reaction. Toji leans back a little and gives you a slow once-over. Tight top. Lacy bra peeking up. Glossy lips. More jewellery than usual. His eyebrow lifts. “That why you’re dressed like a hooker?” he asks lazily. “Hot date?”

“Nah,” you reply, waving him off. “Wore this for yo— Wait.” You lean forward, staring at him wide eyed. “Are you jealous? Are you in love with me already? Because for extra marks, I’ll cancel my dinner plans and promise myself to you for all eternity.”

Toji rolls his eyes. “Go get something to eat; you sound insane.”

You hop up. “Okay, but stay there, alright? Take my burger because I only want the tenders. Oh, and will you share a pot of cheesecake with me? I’m lactose-intolerant but I really want cheesecake right now.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He’s still here when you come back. 

As soon as you hand him the wrapped up burger, he scarfs it down the way big men do, like they haven’t eaten in days. You push him the tenders too. You’d actually gotten a double serving of everything so you have your own portion of tenders and he gets to eat another burger. There’s no way a man his size could survive on udon noodles.

“Also, let’s not act like you didn’t leave me hanging outside the men’s bathroom yesterday,” you bring up after sipping your juice. “Can’t believe you left through the bathroom window just so you could get away from me.”

“I didn’t,” he says, mouth full and adjusting his glasses. 

You frown, dipping a piece of chicken in hot honey. “No, you definitely did. I peeked and there were no feet in any of the stalls. Unless you’re telling me you can grow invisible.”

“Just lifted my legs when I heard you come in, which I knew your crazy ass would do, so I could finally leave in peace. Didn’t think it’d take you fifteen minutes though.”

A laugh escapes you. “You were waiting me out? Does that sound like the mature thing to do? Jeez, you need to act your age.”

Toji’s eyes meet yours. Your smile falters for the briefest second. “I’m not that much older than you,” he reminds you. “Only by two years.”

“And yet you call me kid or kiddo,” you retort, clearing your throat. Have his eyes always been that green and deep? And is his voice usually that husky and masculine? Because you could have sworn guys your age don’t sound like that.

He shrugs again, second burger finished in a blink of an eye. “Never hurts to remind yourself.”

“Remind yourself what?”

The legs of his chair screech as he pushes it back. He stands, picking up his tray, and answers, “Forget about it. Enjoy your dinner plans. And I’m taking the cheesecake — no one wants a gassy date.”

“Wait,” you call out before he can turn away. “My marks?”

A pat on the head ruffles your hair. 

“Still a no, kid.”

.

.

.

“What if I suck your dick?”

Toji lifts his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’ve got a ton of papers to grade for another class; I don’t have time for you.”

The door shuts behind you. His office is bare, not a single decoration littering the place, not a plant nor a picture. 

His office is exactly how you remember it — disappointingly, aggressively empty. The walls are a dull institutional beige that makes the overhead fluorescent light feel even harsher. No posters. No photos. Not even a sad little plant struggling for life in the corner.

Just a desk. A filing cabinet. Two chairs that look like they were stolen from a waiting room. It’s the kind of office someone occupies temporarily, like he expects to leave at any moment and doesn’t see the point in settling in.

Leaning against the desk anyway, your fingers drum lazily along the edge.

You’ve been here before: once to argue about a paper he’d shredded with red ink, once because you’d missed an exam and needed him to sign a form, and once because you’d sworn you heard him swearing loud enough to be heard halfway down the hallway.

You grip his shoulder, squeezing as you scan the fat stack of papers on his desk — the prof’s particular about handwritten essays. There’s so much to read through; you do not want to be him. 

“God,” you mutter, flipping through a few pages of the stack. “There’s like fifty here.”

“Seventy-two,” Toji corrects without looking up. His handwriting is sharp and aggressive, red ink slashing through entire paragraphs like he’s committing academic murder. You wince in sympathy for whoever wrote the paper currently being dismantled.

“Good thing you can multitask, can’t you? I’ll suck your dick under the desk, you grade papers, and you bump me up a grade. Easy.”

He shrugs you off, hulking body hunched over and pen scratching on the papers, leaving harsh circles and comments like, ‘what the hell does this mean?’ and ‘you can’t just say perchance.’ 

Toji gruffs, “I’m serious. Take your jokes elsewhere.”

Nah, you think to yourself. 

With a massive struggle against his weight, you yank his chair back, wheeling him a distance from the desk and clambering under before he can fill the space again. He makes some noise above you but you pay him no mind. Your hands rest on his meaty thighs through his sweatpants, marvelling at the density, at the strength you find in them. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous.” His foot nudges your knee. “Get the fuck out. I’ll cropdust you if I have to.”

You call his bluff by clutching his clothed cock. He jolts, grunting. Laughing softly, you muse, “You say all that but you have a semi already — did my proposition get you hard, Toji?”

You’re rubbing his hard on, trying not to get flustered by how big he feels, and how fat the girth is. Of course he’s big. In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been so surprised; he’s a big man so naturally the proportions will match up. 

“Suck my dick, don’t suck my dick, it doesn’t matter,” he says, sighing and probably pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re not getting those marks.”

He thinks that’ll stave you off because he knows you’re whoring yourself out for a grade. What he doesn’t know is that your stupid little brain’s already forgotten about all of that the moment you felt his cock. Now all you can think about is how you’ll have to stretch your lips nice and wide to take him in, and even then, even when your throat is lax and loose, you won’t be able to take him to the base. 

Toji grunts again, peering down at you. “You mouthing at my dick? Did’ya not hear what I said?”

Like you’ve been possessed, you press kisses to where his tip is, humming around it. “I heard, but your dick’s saying other things to me, and I know which I prefer to listen to.”

“My dick’s not marking your paper, so get the fuck up,” he growls.

“Don’t wanna.”

“You’re fucking killing me here.”

A heavy hand bundles your hair up, pulling but you fight against it, hooking your fingers under the waistband and releasing him from the constraints. His boxers have a hole, and yet you only find it endearing. Freeing his cock so it bounces up and smacks your cheek, it leaves a wet mark on your skin. 

Tutting, he wipes away the wetness from your skin. 

Oh fuck, he really is big. 

With nothing between you and his dick, you can see him in all his glory in the partial shadow of under his desk — long, thick, flushed red, already shiny at the slit, veiny as hell, hairs at the base wild and unruly, with weighty balls to match. You’ve never seen anything better. 

Tongue out, you lick him from base to tip, prodding at his frenulum.

“Quit it,” he commands through gritted teeth. 

You moan wantonly, already addicted to the salt on his kin, to the texture of his veins, to the softness of his cockhead. “Toji, you’re so big. I don’t think this’ll fit inside me.”

The thing throbs, bobbing. A droplet oozes out and you quickly lick it up. The hand that was pulling your hair has grown slack, simply resting on the back of your head, keeping you from bumping the wood. 

Voice hoarse, he mutters, “If anyone can make it fit, it’ll be your stubborn ass.”

Your eyes meet his from under the desk, mischief sparkling in them you’re sure. His cock throbs again. “I thought you had papers to mark, Fushiguro. Maybe you should get on that, no?”

A calloused thumb presses down on your lips, shushing you. It slides down, bringing your bottom lip down with it, before releasing it so it’ll bounce back in place. That same thumb holds your jaw open, hand guiding your mouth to his tip. You know what he wants. You also know that he knows that you both know that you won this time. 

Wide as you can, you take as much of his length as possible. You don’t get much further than a third of the way, full beyond belief and overwhelmed by just how much of him there still is. Your nails dig into his thighs.

“If this is supposed to convince me to give you extra marks, then you’re failing real hard, doll,” he notes, gripping the base. “Can barely fit the head, can you?”

He’s acting like it’s your fault he’s so big. 

Challenged, you loosen your throat to take him an inch deeper. You gag around the length. Toji curses under his breath. “Careful,” he mutters. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

You ignore him in favour of shallowly bobbing, sucking and licking what you can, as though he’s a lollipop. It’s actually kinda fun.

The familiar sound of pen scratching on paper and paper rubbing on paper echoes in the relatively quiet office. Only the wet sounds of your mouth sucking his cockhead pierces the silence. 

Growing more and more used to his size, you flick your tongue around the head, letting your hands wrap around the rest of him, squeezing and tugging in time with your mouth. Occasionally, he makes a couple breathy noises — low grunts when your tongue laps up his tip, gravelly groans when you hollow your cheek to suck, and rough exhales through his nose when you grip his balls, massaging them, thumb rubbing the seam. 

It becomes easier to forget why you were here in the first place; you’re just blowing him for your own entertainment now, wanting something to occupy your throat. 

Then, he asks, as though he’s making casual conversation, “How was the date?”

“Hmm?”

Toji rolls his eyes. “The date,” he repeats. “How was it? He pay for the meal? Open doors, see you to your door, kiss you goodnight and shit?”

Your lips stretch into a smile. You release him with a pop! “I didn’t go on a date,” you tell him. “My friends hosted a housewarming party because they moved in together. I had a great time, thanks for asking.”

Is he pleased? Unaffected? Genuinely just making conversation? Hard to tell, except for the pushing of his hand, urging you back to his dick, and taking him further inside your throat, till his tip bumps the back of the gummy walls. 

“Good,” he exhales out, thighs flexing around your body. “That’s real good.”

“My blowjob skills or that I had a great time?” you ask, words muffled and barely understandable.

“Both,” he answers. “Both, doll.”

A knock on the door has you both stiffening. Toji glares down at you and whispers, “It’s the prof. Do not make a sound.”

He didn’t need to tell you that — you’re well aware that if you get caught, you’ll both face disciplinary action, and will likely be kicked out of the university. That’s worse than not getting the internship. 

The office falls quiet so suddenly you can hear the ticking of the wall clock. Toji’s hand tightens briefly against the desk as the knock comes again. “Come in,” he calls, voice steady.

The door opens before he even finishes the word.

“Ah, Fushiguro, there you are,” the professor says, stepping inside with a stack of papers tucked under one arm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d left already.”

From your position under the desk, you can only see shoes. Polished leather. Slow steps across the floor. You don’t slide his cock out of your throat, lest it makes a sloppy noise that’ll give you both away. So you breathe through your nose, being very, very quiet.

“No, I was just finishing up some grading,” Toji replies, cool as a cucumber.

His tone is annoyingly normal. Completely unbothered. He’s really convincing. Has he done this before? Is this a normal occurrence? Do a lot of girls offer to blow him for better marks, and does he take them up on it? Are you the one exception to his generosity? 

“Good, good.” Papers shuffle. A chair creaks as the professor sits across from the desk. “I actually wanted to ask about the research methods essays.”

Of course he did.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Toji shifts slightly above you — just enough that the movement brushes your shoulder — and then he leans back in his chair. “Yeah?” he says.

“I noticed something odd in the submissions this year,” the professor continues. “Half the class seems to misunderstand the section on sampling bias.”

He hums thoughtfully. “You mean where they’re supposed to explain the limitations of convenience sampling?”

“Exactly.”

A sheet of paper slides across the desk.

“You see this one here—”

From below, you hear Toji pick it up.

“—they describe the method correctly, but their conclusion contradicts their own analysis.”

There’s a pause whilst the TA reads. You stare at the underside of the desk and try not to shift your knees. God, this is like torture. Having a cock lodged in your throat and not being able to do anything with it is hell. Above the desk, they’re chatting away, talking about your fellow students, with the professor none the wiser that one such student’s under the desk. 

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “They’re treating correlation like it proves causation.”

“Precisely!” the professor says, sounding delighted. “It’s surprisingly common.” Another pause. You hear a pen tap the desk twice. “I was thinking next year we might restructure the lecture slightly,” the professor continues. “Maybe introduce a short case study before the assignment.”

“Could work,” Toji replies. “Give them something concrete, tangible, to analyse.”

Your legs are starting to cramp. Your lips tighten around his hot cock. Toji brushes your hair back from your face, a quiet act to show he hasn’t forgotten about you. The professor keeps talking, completely unaware.

“Also,” he says, shuffling more papers, “the literature review sections were stronger this year.”

“Mm.”

“I suspect the workshop helped.”

Toji lets out a quiet huff that might be agreement.

“You handled that well, by the way,” the professor adds. “The students seem to respond to your feedback.”

This is way too boring, you decide. In an act you might end up regretting for the rest of your life, your offended tongue prods his tip where he’s still leaking salty precum. 

He grunts, knee crashing up on the wood. 

The professor asks him if he’s alright, and Toji replies, “Fine. Sorry. Just had a cramp.”

A triumphant smile pulls at your lips, which is quickly wiped away by the sudden pinch at your cheek. You wince, unable to smack him in retaliation. 

A sigh fills the room. “I fear you work too hard, Fushiguro. You ought to take a break here and there. Do something fun and wild, or whatever it is people your age do nowadays.”

“I am having fun,” Toji says, hand coming back to rest on your head, growing heavier and heavier until you’re forced to take him inside your mouth, deeper and deeper. “In my own way.”

He’s filling you up more than he was before, now more insistent, no longer so passive. You’re struggling to take him but he’s not letting up. Fuck, you’re soaked between the legs. Who knew you had an oral fixation?

“Well, good,” the professor says. He pushes his chair back. Your heart jumps in joy. “I won’t keep you any longer, I know those papers won’t mark themselves. Boy do I not envy you.” He laughs. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too, Professor.”

Footsteps move toward the door. The handle turns. The door opens. Closes. Silence. Two seconds pass.

Then Toji peers down, licking his scarred lips, and mutters under his breath, “You needy fucking girl. Couldn’t wait, could you? Couldn’t resist not being a pain my fucking ass. If you want cock so badly, then here you go.”

His hips thrust up, hand keeping you in place. Your eyes fly open, throat stretching to take all of him in. Oh, he was as pent up, as frustrated, as you were. The force in which he’s rutting inside your throat displays that nice and clear. 

“You’ll do anything for a good grade, won’t you? Even debase yourself like this. God, you drive me crazy.”

You gag around his cock but he doesn’t pay any mind to that. No, Toji’s just rutting inside your mouth over and over again, grunting louder and louder now. 

Meanwhile, your hand seeks out the heat between your legs. You grind against the heel of your palm, moaning around his length. The vibration has his balls tightening up.

“Fuck!”

Hot cum bursts inside, coating the walls of your throat and your tongue. 

Toji leans back in his chair, which creaks. You pull him out, coughing at the salty burn. Damn, even his loads are big. It’s like a cream puff exploded inside your mouth. 

Hands carry you up, sitting you on his thigh. One rubs your back in circles, the other wipes away the tears at your eyes, licking at the wetness he’s collected on his thumb. “You good, kid?” he asks, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah,” you respond, voice hoarse and not fooling anyone. “I’m good.”

You take a sip of his water from his water bottle, not caring about the fact that you’re drinking from where he had been, and if he cared that your mouth which had been sucking on his dick and cum is on his cup, he didn’t say.

He sighs, tucking himself back in and says, “Come by my place tonight. Hand me your essay again and I’ll reread it. But I’m not making any promises about finding extra marks, alright? It’s just a second chance, and the only one you’ll get.”

Dopily, you smile at him. “Throat game that good, huh?”

His lips twitch. He shoves you away, smacking your ass as you walk away.

“I’ll text you the time and place. Don’t be late.”

Nodding, you head for the door, not leaving however till you ask, “Should I wear matching underwear, or is this a strictly keep your clothes on meeting?”

“Fuck off before I regret it.”

“Lacy thong it is!”

.

.

.

“Should I spread my legs now or do you want me to fluff you first?”

Toji’s deadpan face meets you when he opens the door. He sighs as though he’s regretting this already. Regardless, he lets you in. 

You can tell he showered recently — there’s the scent of cheap soap lingering on his skin and his hair is still a little damp. 

His apartment is nice and clean, which surprises you somewhat. Most guys your age tend to be messy. But you should have known the TA would be neat and organised. 

“I’m serious,” you begin, snuggling up to his side and batting your lashes up at him, “what position do you want me? I’m not the most flexible but I’m not too bad.”

Shaking you off, he pushes you in the direction of the living room where the coffee table is covered with carefully laid out papers he no doubt carried from campus to continue working on. “Go sit down, you horny gremlin. Make some room for your essay and let’s get this over with.”

You do as he says, folding your legs so you can sit by the coffee table on the rug. You take the essay out of your bag, shoving all the others to the side. With a frown, you ask, “So we’re really not fucking?”

He folds himself down too, sitting beside you, knee brushing yours. “I don’t solicit sex in exchange for academic favours. Dunno why you’re so surprised by that — can’t recall having done anything to make you think otherwise.”

“Well, you did give in after I blew you, so…”

“I was gonna offer before you did all that,” he informs you, snorting. “Just never promised to give you the marks.”

Toji adjusts his glasses, taking your papers and starting his reassessment of it. His lips purses, brows furrows, and he stares at the thing like it could tell him the answers to the universe. That or it’s so bad he just can’t fathom what you were thinking. 

“Second paragraph, third line, why the hell is it so convoluted?” he asks, voice returning to that grumpy tone you’re more than familiar with now.

It’s the latter, it would seem. He really meant business. You shaved and everything for nothing. What a shame. 

Leaning over, you rest your head on his big bicep, and, with a pout, reply, “I thought it sounded smart; I was pretty proud of that line actually.”

“No, doll,” Toji says, sighing. “The simpler the better. Don’t purposefully complicate your syntax. Only do what’s necessary to get the point across. If I, an expert in this topic, can barely understand what you mean, how is the ordinary person supposed to?”

“Yeah, okay. Simple is better, I get it.”

He continues reading, red pen in hand and making annotations as he goes. Meanwhile, you’re worming your way into his lap: one hand resting on his thigh at first, then a leg thrown over his. He notices what you’re doing — there’s no way he doesn’t know — but he doesn’t put up a fight. Eventually, you’re sitting in his lap, his chin resting on your head, and his arms caging you in. 

Toji’s warm. He’s comfy to rest on despite all the muscles. Closer now, his soapy scent envelops you. It goes straight to your head. You find yourself squirming. 

“Keep still,” he reprimands, underlining a phrase twice for emphasis. “You can’t just use jargon if you’re not going to explain it. It’s bad practice.”

“Got it.” Fiddling with his spare hand, running your fingers down his and over his palm, you ask, “Are academics supposed to have calluses?”

“They bother you or something?”

“No, not at all. I’m just curious.”

He hums. “I do odd jobs here and there, some more manual than others so yeah I built up some calluses.” Without missing a beat, he pivots the topic. “Tell me again what the difference is between compliment and complement.”

You bring that hand up to your breast, imploring him to grope your tits as you reply, “With an I is to praise someone or something, and with an e is to say something matches well with another.”

A moan escapes your lips when he squeezes in approval. Toji mutters, “Good girl. Guess you do listen to me.” Thumb brushing your hardened nipple through the thin material of your top, you squirm in his lap. His lips move against the top of your head. “No bra?”

“I figured you were going to take it off me anyway so I didn’t bother,” you say, still pressing his hand to your tit, riding the motions of every grope and flick of your nipple. 

Another hum. 

Slowly, you guide that hand down lower. He must know what you’re doing, where you want it to end up, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t reprimand or put up any resistance; he’s curious to see how far you’re willing to go. And you’re curious to see how much restraint he has, how long he can hold out before his façade of nonchalance breaks and he’s fucking up inside you.

You tease yourself, and him, first — his fingers, with your guidance, tease your bare thighs, following the hem of your tight skirt. Growing breathless, you ask, “What kind of odd jobs do you do?”

Toji’s calluses tickle the sensitive skin in your inner thighs just right. He’s still marking your paper, occasionally fact-checking your ideas and his theories in a textbook on the table. Amused, he retorts, “You curious about me, doll?”

“Hmm, I want to know exactly whose cock will be stretching me out in a minute.”

He snorts, patting your clothed pussy. You jolt with every impact. “I tutor on the side. Fix up some cars in the garage in town. I’m a physical trainer for three clients at the local gym too. And when I’m low on money, I sell risqué pictures of myself. That disgust you?”

All while he answers, Toji’s blunt nails scrape your slit through your panties. He’s not applying much pressure at all, if any, and yet every skim, every travel up and down has goosebumps rising on your skin.

“N-no,” you answer quickly. “I think that’s really cool. If I had a body like yours, I’d take pictures all the time too.”

His laughter rumbles in his chest. An odd sense of pride warms your own. He says, “Your body’s more than good enough to sell too, you know. Don’t act like you don’t know guys give you double takes all the time, or that your ass could stop traffic.”

Giggling, you lean back, gazing up at him with a smile. “Do you stare at my ass sometimes, Toji?”

God, you’re soaked. You can tell, though you’re not embarrassed whatsoever. If anything, you’re just itching for him to pull your panties to the side and touch you skin to skin, to plunge inside your pussy and make a mess out of you.

“Tell me where you can, and should, insert a semi-colon in paragraph six, and I’ll give you an honest answer.” 

He nudges you with his chin. “Go on. Quit thinking with your pussy and give me the right answer.” A little aggrieved, you sit up straight, holding his wrist to keep his hand between your legs. Your eyes scan the section. Tentatively, you point to a full stop on the second line. Toji shakes his head and smacks your clothed pussy again. “Try again, and don’t guess.”

“Here,” you snarl, feeling way past pent up. “Now give me my reward.”

Toji huffs. “Semi-colons help for varying sentence structures. It’s in the little ways you can convey your points compellingly. Don’t underutilise the right punctuations.”

“Yeah, yeah, smarty pants. Rub my clit and answer my question already.”

Cool air brushes against your swollen, glistening lips. You sigh when his warm hand covers the entire slit barely a second later. His middle fingers are instantly coated in your wetness. He groans. “Fuck, doll, you’re dripping.” Toji doesn’t give you a moment to respond to that; his fingers rub at your throbbing clit in tight circles, drawing it out of his hood. You moan, back arching. 

Finally, he answers, “I stare at your ass all the fucking time after I glare at the losers whose eyes wander from their laptop screens . I’m a big, fucking hypocrite — that what you wanna hear?”

“Fuck yes!”

Rustling of paper reaches your ears. Then two hands are on you: one furiously rubbing the bundle of nerves and the other gripping your throat. He squeezes threateningly. Your vision spots, jaw dropping. “Look at you, all desperate to have my cock inside you. And for what? For a couple marks? You’re not ashamed?”

Your ass is grinding back on his boner, sandwiching the hard thing between your cheeks as your own answer. How could you be ashamed when he wants you so bad too?

“I’m horny! Are you gonna fuck me or not?”

In a split second, you find your world spinning. Your back falls on something hard. You’re staring up at the ceiling, papers scattered beneath you. Rough hands tug you down by your thighs. When you peer down, Toji’s staring up at you from between your lips.

“Yeah, I’m fucking you. You already knew I was gonna. You gonna let me taste your pussy first?” A challenging brow quirks up, like he’s waiting for you to push him away. 

Instead, your legs hook over his shoulders, ankles crossed. You grin at him.

Panties pulled to the side, his fingers spread your pussy for him. Those eyes scan every inch. He releases a shaky breath, cheeks flushed and Adam’s apple bobbing. “Even your pussy’s pretty. Fucking gorgeous.” Running a hand through his hair, he says, “You’re always such a pain, aren’t you?”

“I can’t help that every part of me’s pretty,” you reply, twirling your hair.

“Shut up and play with your tits — I like a show with my dinner.” Toji spits a fat dollop right on your clit. It slides down your slit but before it can disappear in the crevice of your ass, his tongue is collecting it and shoving it inside your cunt. 

You gasp. “Fuck, Toji!”

In spite of his aggressive tone, you pull down your top, letting your tits bounce out. Those eyes follow every jiggle. “Good girl,” he rasps. “Squeeze them for me nice and hard. Good. Real fucking good.”

His glasses are foggy now with your own humidity, rattling with every movement. He’s eating your pussy out like he’s starved, like he’s never tasted anything better, like he’s going to make sure not a single trace of you can be found in his apartment after he’s done with you. 

Growling, he spread your thighs wider. “Course you’ve got a sweet pussy,” he says, brows furrowing in what appears to be anger. “Course it’s sweeter than that fucking cheesecake. Course I’ll be craving you till I die.”

Fingers tangle in his hair, tugging for purchase. “Ngh, Toji, my clit…suck my clit!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Those scarred lips, the very ones you’ve stared at more times than you can count, wrap around your clit, sucking hard the way you did when you were blowing him under the desk. Electricity sparks inside, sending tremors up from your lower belly to your tits to the very tips of your fingers. “Oh fuck, that’s so good.”

Filthy squelches are being wrung out of you, and you know he’s doing it on purpose, addicted to how responsive your body is to him.

Two fingers worm their way through your pulsing hole, basking in the rough textures of your entrance, stretching your gummy walls on their way to curling against that spot that has you oozing more cum out. 

“You’re fucking tight,” he hisses. “You’re gonna struggle taking all of me later.” Then he barks a laugh, spare hand pressing down on your belly where the pressure builds up. Your toes curl. “A better man would take pity on you, go slow or wait another day, but I’ve already had my tongue inside your cunt so I’ll spare you the gentleman act.”

More fingers shove in, ignoring the screech that you let out. You’ve never had more than two and yet all four of his thicker, longer fingers are inside pushing your walls to their very limits. 

Despite that, he remarks, entertained by the shock on your face which he studies through his glasses, “Suck it up, buttercup — my cock’s thicker than this, you know that.”

You do. 

It’s all you’ve been thinking about all day. Hours after, your jaw’s still stretched out, sore and creaking after the workout you put it through. The thought of having something even thicker, longer than his four fingers has you growing dizzy, head handing over the coffee table.

“Yeah, my cock can’t wait to feel you too,” Toji says, not to you but to your pussy which is squelching lewdly and loudly. “Had to resist jerking my dick raw all day so you better make it good for me.”

Is it seconds later, or minutes, maybe hours, when you cum?

How ever long it is no one can deny it’s the strongest orgasm of your life. 

Your entire body trembles, spasming beyond control. Are you screaming or silently moaning? Are your eyes shut or have you gone blind? And is he still pistoning his fingers inside you, damn near pushing all of his hand in? 

“Stop,” you cry out. “No more, please!”

Mercifully, he yanks his hand out. Unfortunately, it leaves you feeling so empty you immediately crave the feeling of his hand gripping you from inside. 

Lips and chin glistening, he kisses both inner thighs, which tremble. 

Toji gathers you with one arm, showing off his strength as he carries you off the table and to the glass door which leads out to the balcony. It’s dark out and all you can see are the lights of people’s rooms in the apartment across. There are families lounging, dogs sleeping, TV’s blaring. 

Behind you, you hear the rustling of his shirt as he throws it off carelessly. Bare skin grazes your own soon after his hands make quick work of the clothes you’re still wearing. In a flash, you’re naked. He bends down to pick up your fallen panties, inhaling the gusset deeply. Your legs cross tightly at the deeply satisfied groan he lets out. 

“Next office hour,” he starts, lazily spreading your pussy lips and smearing your juices around so he can listen to the squelches and keep your squirming, “you better leave your panties with me. Consider it payment.”

You laugh. “Sure.”

Groggily, you try to keep your head up, wondering what you’re doing by the window, still a little out of it. A hand clutches your jaw, aiding you. 

“I’m gonna fuck you against this window,” he announces, leaving no room for arguments. “You want those extra marks? Then you’re gonna be a good girl and take my cock like a champ.”

Ass gyrating back against the hot, heavy thing still confined in sweatpants, you wonder, “Do you have an exhibitionism kink?”

He lets go of you. You have to catch yourself by pressing your palms to the cold glass. Toji drags your hips back, foot kicking your legs apart. His cock plops onto your ass, scalding. “No, I have a ‘get my time’s worth from shameless women who waste my time with demands for better grades by humiliating them’ kink.”

“Sounds long. We should get that shortened,” you drawl.

His cockhead slides through your pussy, coating itself in your wetness. The fat thing bumps against your clit. You shudder. 

Satisfied with your natural lubrication, he prods your entrance. “Yeah, we should. Let’s call it, Shut The Fuck Up And Take It.”

Then he enters you in one go.

You scream.

The window fogs up with your breath. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

You’re taking so much of his length so quickly that it should be painful. Despite that, there’s not an ounce of pain, not one you didn’t like at least — only the overwhelming pleasure of being filled up is resonating. 

Toji grunts. “Almost had to fist this cunt and you’re -hah fuck- still too tight.”

Pummelling his cock in, his hips don’t pause for a second. You gasp for breath, palms slipping and sliding on the condensation that’s built up on the glass. It’s like you can feel him in your lungs, so impossibly deep, so hot, so intimidating. 

“God, it should be a crime to have a body like this,” he says, hands groping every part of your flesh he can reach. He slaps your ass to watch it jiggle for him. He’s an ass man, that much is clear.

The force of his thrusting has you pushed closer to the glass, so close now that almost your entire front is flush with the surface. The coldness grazes your nipples. You moan. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

He tugs you back to him, body sliding down the glass till your ass is jutted out. Toji carries your hips up so you can reach him, but it means your toes are only brushing the floor. You cling to the glass door as much as you can. Through the glossy haze, you see the marks you left on the glass, from the oils and sweat on your skin. You see the outline of your tits, all round and fat, the handprints you left and the smearing of them all over the place because you couldn’t grapple with one position to have them in. 

Are people watching? Are you flashing a poor old man, are you reigniting a sexual appetite in a pitiful divorcee, making a housewife jealous, creating fantasies for some guy your age? Are people rubbing one out to the flashes of ecstasy on your face, to the swaying of your tits, to the rippling of your ass?

Toji’s fingers creep under you, furiously teasing your clit. You whine. “I think I’m gonna cum again.”

“Go on, gorgeous,” he rasps. “Lemme feel you cum around my cock. Make my dreams come true.”

Two fingers gather the cream that’s formed a ring at his base. He draws three letters on the glass for you to stare at. It spells out c u m.

God, he’s dirty.

Another orgasm ripples through you. Your thighs shake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Toji!”

He growls out, hands tightening their grip on your hips, threatening to bruise, “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum early.”

Without waiting for you to come down from your high, he flips you around. Your back thuds against the door. His cock reenters you in a clean, easy slide, cunt beyond soaked and stretched out. Your arms and legs wrap around him. 

Those glasses of him have fogged up so thickly now that they fail to serve their purpose. Toji takes it off with one hand, sliding it onto your head, like a headband keeping your face clear of your hair. “Don’t let them fall,” he orders. “They break and you won’t be getting that internship.”

And his lips?

They smack against yours.

He kisses you, all tongue and teeth and drool dripping down chins, like he’s been waiting weeks, months, perhaps years to do that. And you kiss him back just the same. 

Inside you, his cock throbs. Toji’s hips swing back and forth, pelvis grinding on yours, rubbing your clit and wringing our more obscene squeeeelches. 

“Oh god, I’m so full, Toji. You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re -hngh- t-taking me so well,” he praises, littering sloppy kisses all over your face and neck all while he pinches and rolls your nipples. “Moaning so adorably, all pretty and finally keeping this mouth quiet of smartass comments. You should be like this all the time.”

The rocking of his cock inside you is even better like this. The closeness, the warmth, the taste of him — you wonder why you waited so long to do this. 

Tits squashed to his chest, your nipples scrape his skin, slipping and sliding with the sweat beading down your bodies. The hard planes of his chest feel magnificent. Nothing about his muscles are for vanity only, and the knowledge of the strength he’s holding back has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“You’d miss my smartass comments,” you tell him, head thrown back and hips working their way down on his cock of their own volition.

Toji groans against your neck, licking droplets of sweat. “Yeah, maybe. I definitely wouldn’t miss your spelling errors though.”

Smiling, you tug his head up by his hair, and bite his bottom lip. You pull and let go so it’ll snap back into place like he’d done with your lip when you were under his desk. “Maybe if you taught me like this, I wouldn’t -hah- make so m-many mistakes— deeper, Toji! Fuck me deeper.”

His hips plough deeper inside, like you wanted, hitting that spot inside you till you’re sure it’ll be bruised in the morning. Moans after moans are fucked out of you; his neighbours will give him an earful tomorrow, you’re certain. 

“Book more office hours just to see me and not because you want something from me, then we can see if I can fuck your stupidity out of you,” he retorts. 

You peck his lips. “Aw, does poor, needy Toji want me to give him more attention? Does he miss me when I’m not there? What a cute little baby.”

“Yeah, he does, actually,” he says, smirking. “That a problem?”

“It will be if you don’t make me cum.”

Toji reminds you, “You’ve been cumming around my cock this entire time; you still want more? Greedy girl.”

He pulls away from the window, stalking over to the sofa instead. Each step burrows him deeper inside you, kissing your cervix and pushing out gasps from your lips, all of which he swallows. 

Carelessly, he throws you on the sofa. You bounce with an oomph!

Ankles held by one hand, he keeps your legs upright, hips lifted up to meet his. Toji presses a kiss to your ankle bone before he pushes his cock back inside. Your back arches with a mewl. Like this, his huge body becomes even more glaring — he’s casting a shadow over you, completely dwarfing you, reminding you how easily he could break you, how he could take whatever he wants from you. 

Every time he buries himself to the hilt, a bulge pops through your tummy, right under your belly button. 

“Look at that,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over it. You whine. “Feel me deep inside you? You’ll be feeling me inside for days, won’t you? Once it starts to fade, you can always come back for another fill, you know.”

“Promise?” you ask, grinning ear to ear. 

Toji pulls out, leaving just his tip before he slams back in, jostling you down on the sofa. His abs contract, cock throbbing at the sudden clenching of your walls around him. “Fuck, yes, doll. Promise. I fucking promise.”

His glasses have slid off, rattling somewhere on the sofa with the impact of every thrust. He doesn’t seem to care about them anymore. You’re nearing another orgasm, head whipping around at the intensity of the pressure building in your core. He’s bullying his cock relentlessly in your cunt, chasing after his own high and sending you to yours. 

When your eyes clash with his piercing, green ones, unobstructed by his glasses, you explode with a scream. 

“F-fuck,” he grunts, following soon after. 

Searing cum spurts inside you, cock pulsing, cum painting your walls. His thumb rubs your clit, aiding you through your orgasm. Your moans are vibrating against the walls, definitely disturbing his neighbours, but so are his groans. 

He slumps over, rolling the two of you on the sofa so you’re resting naked on his heated body, his heavy arm preventing you from falling off. Your pussy’s sore, a mix of your cum and his dribbling out and creating a sticky mess on your inner thighs. 

Absentmindedly, as you both catch your breath, he rubs your back. You draw shapes and letters on his chest. Toji combs his hair off of his forehead, chest rising up and down with his breathing. The dirty marks you two left are still on the glass, though it’s no longer foggy. 

Reaching up above him, he gracefully finds his glasses, sliding them on his face. You like him with and without them. 

“So,” you begin, “about those extra marks.”

Toji lifts his glasses up to rub a hand down his face. “Jesus, yes, you’ll get the marks.”

“Thanks!” you chirp. 

“God, you’re a pain in the ass.”

.

.

.

“Fuck, Toji,” you moan. “I already came three times. It’s too -hic- too much.”

Your TA ruts his cock inside you, face buried in the crook of your neck. His glasses are on your nose bridge, blurring your vision; he gets so frustrated when the thing gets in the way of kissing you or eating you out.

“Shut up,” he rasps, hand pressing down on your lower belly so you can feel him even more. “You’re the one who dragged me here. Take every orgasm I give you and be grateful.”

That’s true — you were supposed to have an office hour with him, which is really an excuse to see your boyfriend before you have to attend the internship induction session, but then you took one look at him and his amazing body and started soaking through your panties so here you two are.

Oh yes, you did say boyfriend.

After he blew your mind out, you’d been visiting his apartment after classes so often, you were practically living there, and he didn’t mind. It started out casual, but after realising you two would go grocery shopping, watch movies together, and text each other practically every day, you decided to just seal the deal and make it official. 

In short, he fucks good, and he can tolerate your personality, so you two stuck together. 

A month in, neither of you are really regretting it. At least, if his desperate thrusting and sloppy kisses to your neck’s anything to go by. 

“Missed you so much, Toji,” you whine, hips fucking back into him.

Toji groans, hand groping your tit from under your shit. “Yeah, baby?”

“Mmm.”

“Missed you too,” he confesses, licking a stripe up your neck and scraping his teeth down. Goosebumps rise on your arms. “Been wanting to see you all morning.”

You giggle, holding onto the stall for purchase and so his thrusting won’t make you smack face first onto the door. “You’re so cute w-when you’re needy.”

“Fuck off,” he says with no real heat to his words. 

In the near distance, the door to the men’s toilets opens with a dull metallic creak, the sound echoing faintly off the tiled walls. Feet pad in—slow, unhurried. The steady rhythm of someone who expects the place to be empty.

“Fushiguro?” a voice calls out. “You in here?”

The two of you go very, very still. Toji’s entire body stiffens behind you, muscles locking. His hand clamps firmly over your mouth for extra measure, warm palm pressing tight enough that you can feel the tension in his fingers.

Your heart slams against your ribs, loud enough that you’re half convinced it might echo under the stall. What the hell is the professor doing here?

“Susan told me she saw you walk in this direction. You got a minute?”

Toji releases a tense breath through his nose, annoyed at the interruption but left with no choice but to answer. He lifts you up so your feet hang over the floor and won’t be seen by the outsider. “Yeah, prof. But I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

The professor laughs. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. I do apologise for interrupting you. I was just locked out of my account and can’t send emails for the next hour. You know how terrible I am with technology.” He enters the stall next door. He unzips his pants. You cringe. “I only wanted to ask if you’re prepared to host the internship induction later.”

You go still, this time for a different reason. 

Your boyfriend releases your mouth. Fingers creep over to between your legs, where you’re still connected to him, where he’s still throbbing inside you. He slowly rubs your clit, keeping you from squirming in complaint with his strong arms. Toji responds, “Yeah, got all my notes ready.”

The bastard’s trying to distract you…

“Ah good, good,” the older man joyfully responds. His stream hits the water, and you fight the urge to face palm. “I had a look over the plans and the schedule. Very well organised, I must say. The competition was fierce, which is a testament to the success of the event, so props to you.”

Do men hold conversation so casually in the toilets?

Toji carefully begins moving in slow and shallow thrusts, prodding your g-spot over and over with his fat cockhead. You bite your lips to keep from moaning. Your nails dig into his thick arm. He ignores you. 

“Don’t mention it, Professor.”

The man zips himself back up and flushes, exiting the stall. Outside, the tap runs, and you’re both still as quiet as rocks, afraid that any sudden movement will out you both as sexual deviants. 

He adds, “Oh, and thank you for handling the applications for me; you know I hate all that paperwork nonsense.” 

Your jaw drops. 

Beyond tense, Toji replies like he’s aware of the weight every word exchange carries, “I do what I can do to help out.” 

“I couldn’t do what I do without you,” the professor continues, sincere and ignorant to the fact that you’re there. The rustling of paper towels echoes. “Well, I’ll see you later. Apologies again for interrupting.” 

The exit door swings open and you relax, but then his voice fills the space again. 

“Do say hello to your pretty, little girlfriend for me.” 

Your heart? 

Drops to the fucking floor.

Toji’s grip on you tightens just slightly, barely noticeable unless you’re pressed this close to him.

Your mind races. Did he see you come in? Did someone tell him? Did Susan, whoever the hell she is—

Toji speaks before you can spiral further, his tone sharper now, suspicion threading through it. “What do you mean, Professor?”

“Oh, you know, the girl you’ve been eyeing for a while now — she’s on the internship, yes?” Then he laughs the kind of laughter old men do, all paternal and wise. “Don’t worry, son, I’m not accusing you of pulling strings; I know she’s a very intelligent young woman. Ambitious too. Almost as ambitious as you. I hope you two work something out.”

Your heart slows its beating but you’re not any less tense. 

Sighing, Toji responds, “I’ll let you know if we do.”

“Yes, yes,” the professor says before he leaves for good. 

Finally, it’s just you two in the men’s toilets again. The silence and emptiness is maddeningly relieving. Although, you’re seething, practically vibrating with accusations and anger.  

Toji lets you down. Your feet touch the ground again. You pull him out, whirling on him with a disbelieving glare. You snatch his glasses off your face with one hand and smack his chest with the other. The man doesn’t budge.

“You sneaky piece of shit!”

He gathers both of your wrists with one hand, rolling his eyes. Toji takes his glasses from you and slides it on his face. Seeing you clearer now, he guides his cock back to your pussy, re-entering with ease. You moan, allowing him to hike your leg over his hip so he can press in deeper.

Kissing your lips, he mutters against your lips, “I did what I had to to get your attention. Sue me.”

“God, you’re the worst,” you breathe out, chest jutting out to his, nipples aching and clit throbbing. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I’m the big, bad wolf, and you’re creaming all over my dick right now. Let’s not act like you got the short end of the stick here.”

“Master manipulator,” you hiss, kissing him back, fingers tangling in his hair as soon he lets go of your wrists to grope your tit and ass.

“Whore,” he fires back.

Then the two of you smile, clutching each other tightly as you both rock into each other, nearing your mutual orgasm and riding the pleasure growing in your bodies. Fuck, he feels so good.

“We’re gonna be together forever and ever, aren’t we?” you ask.

Toji’s scar brushes your forehead with his kiss. 

“That’s the plan.”

[ellitx]

That’s the aphrodisiac talking venti calm your horny dih down

[jinjoohaaa]

Room for One more?

pairing : jjk men x reader

synopsis : you moved in for cheap rent, not to get passed around. but with four insanely hot men under same roof, it didn’t take long before things got messy. now you’re cockwarming nanami at midnight, riding gojo in the shower, bent over for geto before dinner, and getting your throat fucked by toji. college? peace? who needs it when you’re getting dicked down for good?

content warning : explicit sexual content, polyamorous dynamics, possessiveness, dry humping, breast play, voyeurism, jealousy, mentions of spanking, rough play, and light degradation/humiliation kink. strong language and suggestive dialogues, 18+, mdni.

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Chapter 17

“Good morning, bunny~!”

Gojo’s voice rang through the room as the bedroom door flew open without warning, all the usual energy he seemed physically incapable of living without.

The morning sun had only just begun slipping through the curtain, painting soft streaks of gold across the room. Then his eyes landed on the scene in front of him.

There you were, still asleep, face pressed into your pillow, hair all messy, and cheeks warm from the sleep. But what had him stopping mid-sentence and blinking like a buffering screen was the sight infront of him. Toji, half under the covers and shirtless, mouth latched onto your boob like it was his morning espresso.

Gojo stopped in his tracks and blinked again. “…you’ve got to be kidding me.”

He couldn't care to hesitate, tiptoeing in and sliding under the covers on the other side of you like he'd won some imaginary right to your bed.

Toji didn’t stir. He was still out cold, arm slung heavy around your waist, grip tightening instinctively when Gojo’s knee brushed yours.

"Unreal," Gojo whispered, now spooning you from the back while Toji had the front. “man’s got a whole tit in his mouth like a pacifier…”

He slowly started to grind a little. Enough to feel the heat, to push his hard-on against your soft ass under the blanket. His hand crept forward, fingertips brushing your soft belly, rising toward the curve of your breast—the free one which is not currently being held hostage by Toji.

"Sooooo mean, bunny,” Gojo whispered into your ear, planting tiny kisses onto your neck. "he's wakin' up with a mouthful of tit while I have to watch from the sidelines like some thirsty fanboy? how’s that fair, huh?"

For someone supposedly trying to keep things low-key, Gojo sure spent a lot of time running his mouth.

That was when Toji moved. His brows furrowed and jaw clenched, followed by a flick of his tongue. Your nipple visibly stiffened in his mouth, and his eyes cracked open lazily until he realized he wasn’t alone with you. That someone else was there. Touching you.

Toji’s head lifted slightly off your chest, lips slick and smug. His voice came out low and raspy from sleep. “the fuck are you doin' here?”

Gojo grinned like a devil caught red-handed. “enjoying the view.”

Toji sat up slightly, rubbing his eyes with one hand and cupping your breast with the other, entirely shameless. “you really couldn’t give it one damn day, huh?”

“You’re literally suckling her like a baby cow and somehow I’m the problem?”

"She was cold."

“You’re inside a fuckin' blanket, bro! I saw you snuggling her.”

"Yeah, 'cause I can."

Gojo scoffed and leaned in further, his hand now boldly resting between your thighs. “and you think you’re the only one who can, daddy dearest?”

Toji's eyes narrowed. “move your hand.”

Gojo’s smile widened. “make me.”

Your sleepy sigh interrupted the stare-down. You squirmed slightly, still hazy and caught between their bodies. One warm heavy hand on your breast. Another slowly stroking your thigh. What did you wake up into?

Your fingers curled into the blanket. Toji noticed. Gojo definitely noticed.

“…She’s awake,” Gojo said, eyes lighting up like a christmas tree. “aren’t you, sweet thing?”

You barely managed a small nod, eyes fluttering open. Still caught in the haze of sleep and the scent of both of them—musk and whatever cologne Toji didn’t bother to wash off.

Gojo kissed the side of your neck, slow and soft, whispering, “poor thing. surrounded first thing in the morning.”

Toji leaned down to press a hot, slow kiss to your collarbone. “you gonna tell him to fuck off?”

You didn't answer. All that came out was a muffled groan as you buried your face deeper into the pillow, already exhausted by them and whatever ridiculous argument they'd decided to start before sunrise.

Unfortunately, silence had never stopped Gojo before. A grin tugged at his mouth immediately.

"See?" he said, sounding far too pleased with himself. "she's not gonna say no. she never does. she looovesss me."

Toji rolled his eyes so hard it was almost audible. One arm tightened around your waist for a second before he muttered, "you're such a mouthy little shit."

Gojo's grin only widened. "and you're jealous."

Toji’s hand dropped between your legs again, and you gasped.

“Oh look,” Gojo cooed, “gotta stake your claim again?”

Toji growled low in his throat. “touch her again like you own her and I’ll break your fingers.”

Apparently neither of them stopped. If anything, it got worse. Gojo nuzzled into your neck, rubbing himself against your back, while Toji kept groping and stroking, pretending Gojo wasn’t there at all.

“You’re really gonna let him keep touching you?” Gojo taunted.

“You’re really gonna keep acting like you’re part of this relationship?” Toji shot back, not even sparing a glance at him.

Your eyes moved from one to the other, and a slow groan built in your chest. Seriously? You'd barely been awake for a minute and they were already at it. It was too early for this shit.

The grin on Gojo’s face turned downright unbearable. “baby,” he murmured, turning his attention back to you. “who do you want kissing you first this morning?”

You tried to speak, but the words melted on your tongue when Toji sucked on your nipple again, this time harder.

"She just woke up. quit yappin' for a second,” Toji mumbled around your skin.

“Oh, she loves my voice,” Gojo laughed, now kissing down your shoulder. “don’t you, princess?”

You moaned breathy, and a little guilty. And that was all the answer either of them needed.

The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Toji had one massive hand cupping your breast, squeezing it like he owned it, while Gojo’s fingers were still rubbing your thighs. Both of them were trading low growls, looking two seconds away from throwing hands over you.

“I’m the one who made her pass out last night,” Toji muttered smugly, his thumb lazily brushing over your nipple like he was proving a point. “you think your little humping is gonna top that?”

“Please,” Gojo snorted, grinding his hard cock against your ass like he couldn’t help himself. “you’re old news. she literally moans when I kiss her—”

Knock knock. The door swung open before either of them could react.

“Baby, did you see sator—” Geto paused mid-sentence. He blinked once, then twice.

You were in the middle of a Toji-Gojo sandwich, blanket barely covering the scene of morning sin. One man groping, the other one humping.

And you? shrieked softly and yanked the covers over your face like a kid playing hide-and-seek.

“Ohh?” Geto said slowly, lips curling into a smirk as he leaned against the doorframe. “what do we have here…”

Toji groaned under his breath. Not this bastard too. He was already trying to get rid of Gojo, and now the other half of the problem had shown up. Could somebody give this old man a fucking break?

Gojo, of course, looked far too happy for god knows what. “she was warm,” he offered like it was a valid excuse.

“I was here first,” Toji said, as if it somehow settled the argument.

"Congratulations!! want a trophy?" Gojo scoffed.

And before they could start going in circles again, Geto crossed the room in three unbothered steps. You peeked from under the blanket just as he reached the bed, and without a word, he leaned down and kissed you hard.

The kind of kiss that shut everyone up in the room and lit you on fire. Deep and with tongue, hand braced on your cheek like you were his for the day.

Toji’s jaw clenched audibly. Gojo let out a choked noise that sounded suspiciously like betrayal.

When Geto pulled back, you were gasping for air, lips shiny and blanket falling halfway down your body again.

"That,” he said smoothly, “is how you say good morning.”

“Are you kidding me?” Gojo started whining as usual. “that was my kiss—! we fought for that!”

Geto arched a brow. “and I just won.”

Toji sat up like he was about to throw a punch. But before it could escalate any further, Geto reached out and grabbed Gojo by the hair. “alright. I’m taking him.”

“Huh—wha—heyHEYHEY—” Gojo flailed, legs kicking wildly as Geto dragged him backward off the bed like an exorcism victim. “W-WAIT—WHAT IS THIS—YOU CAN’T JUST—!”

“Oh, I can. because someone,” Geto said, dragging the overgrown manchild toward the door, “left his crusty underwear in the floor. again.”

“I was gonna wash it!!”

“After three days?!”

“It's been three days?!”

Gojo grabbed onto the doorframe gripping hard as Geto yanked him through. “wait, princess—tell him I’m good! tell him I deserve to be near your tits too—!”

Geto gave him a harder yank, and Gojo’s head promptly smacked into the doorframe with a dull thunk.

“OUCHH! NO! don’t take me away from her—! I wanna be with herrrr!!”

The door slammed shut. Silence.

Toji buried his face in his hands. “I want to be mad,” he muttered, “but honestly, I’m just glad he’s gone.”

You peeked again. Toji was staring blankly at the wall.

“…You hungry?” he muttered.

“Starving.”

Toji shifted, about to get out of bed, grumbling something about coffee and maybe punching Gojo in the throat, but you reached out and caught his wrist. He paused, cocking a brow, clearly amused.

“Hmm? what is it, princess?”

You didn’t say anything. Just tugged gently, urging him back down toward you. He let you pull him without resistance, body lowering over yours, broad shoulders framing you, that faint smirk playing on his lips.

And then you kissed his cheek. Soft press of your lips to that scarred skin, warm and slow.

Toji blinked, eyes widening a little like you’d short circuited his brain. He actually flushed. Yes, flushed—the same man who’d had you drooling and crying on his cock not even few hours ago.

“What was that for, huh?” he asked, almost suspiciously gentle. He was trying to play it off like it didn’t melt him. But you could see it in the way his jaw tensed, in the sudden stillness of his hand where it hovered over your waist.

You buried your face in the blanket. “nothing.”

"Nothing?"

“Toji,” you whined softly, face burning, trying to pull the blanket higher, but he wasn’t having it.

“Uh-uh. don’t you hide now,” he murmured, sliding closer, snatching the edge of the blanket and tossing it down.

His lips met your cheek in return. Then your forehead, nose, jaw. Soft kisses everywhere, like he was trying to memorize every spot he’d ever see you blush. His hand stroked your side lazily under the covers, knuckles brushing just under your breast as he dragged his lips down to yours.

And when he kissed your mouth, it was gentle. Uncharacteristically sweet. Like he didn’t want to spook you.

You leaned into it, shy and slow, your hands curling into his forearms. He pulled back barely an inch, smirking against your mouth.

“Baby’s so clingy today,” he whispered. “what happened? hmm? ”

You stared up at him, lips parted, unsure how to answer. "what... do you mean...?"

He tilted his head, nosing at your cheek, voice smug. “you ain't usually like this around me,” he muttered, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “so what’s the deal? what changed?”

“...Nothing changed. I’m fine,” you insisted, but even you sounded unconvinced, eyes fixed stubbornly on the floor instead of him.

Toji chuckled, the low, deep rumble vibrating against your chest as he dipped lower, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. His hand was already traveling south, sliding across your thigh with a feather-light touch that had you shifting under him.

“Don’t tell me last night got to you that bad,” he murmured, catching the way you refused to look at him. A low chuckle slipped from him. “that what this is?” he teased. “got you all fucked out now?”

You smacked his shoulder, squeaking, but he only laughed harder, kissing your neck like he was going to start again.

“Keep looking at me like that, princess,” he murmured, “and I’m gonna end up skipping breakfast.”

Eventually, he let you go reluctantly, with one last smack to your ass as you slipped out of your room wearing the same shirt he’d pulled off last night. You barely made it down the hall before Satoru "can't breath without bunny" Gojo caught you, yanking you straight into his arms on the couch like you’d been gone for days.

Yeah, you're not getting out of those octopus arms anytime soon. Good luck to you.

***

Later that evening.

TV humming, your legs tangled with Gojo’s on the couch as he clung to you like a koala. Nanami sat at the table, typing on his laptop, probably writing a strongly worded email draft for some client that pissed him off. Geto was passed out in the recliner, one arm hanging off the side, mouth slightly open like a peaceful angel—if angels wore black boxers and nothing else.

Then the front door creaked open. Toji walked in, looking the same as always. Tired, unbothered, and hot in that ex-hitman-who-fucks-too-good way.

You sat up a little and gave Toji a small smile. He didn’t say a word. Just walked over to you, dug into the brown paper bag in his hand, and plopped something pink into your lap.

It was a shampoo bottle.The same cherry blossom scented one you mentioned last night. You blinked at it, surprised.

Gojo blinked at it too, slower. Then grabbed it as he squinted at the label like it was some cursed relic. “what is this?”

“A shampoo bottle?” you offered, incase if he was being dense on purpose.

“No shit, princess. I meant why is he bringing you this?” Gojo held it high like it might explode. “cherry blossom, pink bottle, imported. huh?”

Toji sighed, grabbed the bottle out of his hands with a scoff, and shoved it back at you. “because she likes it, dumbass.”

Nanami paused whatever he was doing, glanced up at the scene, then went back to his work with a tiny knowing smile tugging at his mouth. Classic Toji, trying to be nonchalant and failing spectacularly.

Gojo let out the most dramatic sigh known to man before collapsing across your lap like he'd just received devastating news.“yesterday it was a kitty plushie. today it's her favorite shampoo,” he complained. “what's next, huh? gonna skip straight to the ring?”

Toji looked about two seconds away from throwing him out a window. “done?” he grunted. “or you got more bullshit left in you?”

“Oh, right. I'm the one talking bullshit now?” Gojo scoffed, staring between the two of you. “at this rate, we're gonna wake up and find out you've eloped.”

Toji let out a long, tired sigh. “please,” he drawled. “keep talking. see what happens.”

Gojo pointed an accusatory finger. “you made a whole speech about me treating her like a girlfriend just ‘cause I took her out and bought her a dress and dinner!”

“I never said that—”

“You said, and I quote,” Gojo sat up straighter, deepening his voice into a growl, “‘quit actin’ like you're her fuckin’ man, she ain’t yours.’ remember that? I do. because it was RIGHT before you threw me onto the couch.”

Toji rolled his eyes at him. “you were being annoying.”

Gojo gasped, hand on his chest. “I was being romantic! but now look at you. bringing her pretty shit, buying plushies, playing the "nice guy" all of a sudden. what’s next, hmm? gonna braid her hair? paint her nails? rub her feet and tell her she’s your special little babygirl?”

You snatched a pillow and pressed it over your face, cheeks burning. If you couldn't see them, maybe you could pretend this conversation wasn't happening.

Toji’s jaw ticked. “shut the fuck up. I do whatever I want.”

“Ohhh. so it’s whatever you want now? you tryna be her boyfriend too? oh wait, you can’t—” Gojo leaned closer with a grin, eyes glittering. “you’re like, halfway to being her dad. Is this fatherly love, toji? gonna spank her for skipping curfew next?”

Toji’s brow twitched. “I already spank her. not my fault she cries when I do.”

You nearly choked on air. Did he seriously just say that? This stupid man—

“TOJIIIIII!” you immediately hurled the pillow at him.

Toji barely reacted, catching it just in time. “what? am I wrong?”

Gojo snorted, throwing his head back with a laugh. “Okay damn, you're never beating the allegations.”

Toji shot him a sideways glare. “better than being a needy manwhore who can’t stop humping his morning wood on her like a mutt in heat.”

“Wh—” Gojo looked genuinely offended. “a whore?” he stared at Toji for a second. “did you just call me a whore?”

Looking around the room for confirmation, he pointed at himself. “did everyone hear that? did he actually just call me a whore?”

Nanami, as usual, couldn't have cared less. He kept typing away on his laptop without even glancing up. Geto, unfortunately for Gojo, was still passed the fuck out on the recliner. Years of living with the loudest bastard alive had apparently trained him to sleep through anything.

“Thought I said it pretty clear,” Toji replied flatly.

“You—” Gojo pointed an accusing finger at Toji. “you can't just call people that!”

“Pretty sure I just did.”

“You SHOULD NOT!”

Toji leaned against the couch with crossed arms, staring him down. “you really mad I got her a fuckin' shampoo? don’t act like you wouldn’t hump the damn thing if it smelled like her.”

Gojo blinked and paused. Calculating the possibilities in his head. “…okay you got me there.”

You kicked them both with your foot. Toji looked down at you, smirked, then plucked the shampoo from your hands again and set it on the armrest beside you.

“Use it tonight, princess,” he said, voice dropping low, eyes dragging over you slowly. “wanna smell it while I got my face between your legs.”

“TOJI.” you and Nanami said it in unison.

Gojo let out a long groan before flopping back across your lap like the most oppressed man alive. “bunnyyy,” he whined, burying his face against your thighs. “he's bullying me again,” his voice dropped into a mumble. “help me, please.”

You looked down at him, utterly unimpressed. The stupid pout on his dumb pretty face made it ten times harder than it should've been to keep a straight face. You pressed your lips together, desperately holding back a laugh.

***

It kept happening.

Day after day, like clockwork.

Evenings would roll in, the apartment dipped in gold as the sun lowered and Toji would walk in, all quiet… and something in his hand.

Never big. Never dramatic. Just… something.

Ribboned hair clip. Cat-shaped bag charm. Tiny blue lighter even though you didn’t smoke. Your favorite chips—the exact flavor you once muttered you craved while half-asleep. Heart-shaped keychain with your initial. That weird Korean jelly candy Gojo tried stealing and got slapped for.

And every single time, he’d toss it to you like it was nothing.

"Here."

"It’s for you."

No eye contact neither any explanations. Just a quick drop-off and a faster retreat to his room, jaw tense like showing care physically pained him.

But the house noticed. Nanami would glance up from whatever he was doing and smile a little without saying a word. Geto would just hum in amusement from the kitchen.

Gojo… well, Gojo was just Gojo.

So when the day came that Toji walked in holding a tiny pastel bag with a lipstick inside, he practically sniffed it in the air.

“Oooh,” he sang as Toji dropped the bag in your lap like he was doing you a favor and not, y’know, secretly thinking about your lips the whole day. “what’s this, bunny? gift? from him?”

Toji grunted and headed towards the fridge. “saw it on the store. thought she might like it.”

You opened it, curious—only to blink at the bright, coral lipstick inside. It was... not it, not even close. It clashed with your skin tone, your undertone, your style, your vibe, your entire essence as a woman.

But it was sweet. Little dumb and very much Toji.

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh. Gojo, on the other hand, did not.

“Oh. oh, wow.” Gojo cackled, plucking the tube from your hands before holding it up like evidence in a murder trial.

“Toji, sweetheart, what the hell is this?” he squinted at the label. “you tryna turn her into a traffic cone?”

Toji immediately narrowed his eyes. “don't touch it.”

Gojo paid him absolutely no attention. “no, seriously. look at this color,” he held it up to the light. “flaming sunset #3?”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

“See? she gets it!” Gojo pointed at you triumphantly. “bunny, please don't wear this, I'm begging you...”

“Give it back,” Toji said, sounding seconds away from violence.

“Toji, be honest,” Gojo continued, clutching it to his chest. “did you pick this with your eyes closed?”

Toji crossed the room with that look—that big, brooding, annoyed glare and snatched the lipstick back. “she said she liked lipsticks.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean any lipstick, old man,” Gojo said, flopping onto the couch beside you. “you just grabbed the first one you saw, didn’t you?”

“She’ll still look good in it.”

“Oh my god, you're so down bad. you wanna see her wear this while she moans and calls you daddy, huh?”

Toji didn’t even flinch. “yeah. what of it?”

At this point, you highly doub if Toji was intentionally trying to embarrass you, because what the fuck was that?

From the other side of the room, Nanami let out a long, suffering sigh. This was the poor man's 13th reason why.

Gojo, meanwhile, looked completely dumbfounded. “...are you like... alright in the head, mate?”

Toji looked at you, then back at him. “least I don’t act like a chihuahua when she puts on socks.”

Gojo looked personally attacked. “come on!! they were thigh-high and you weren’t even home. who the hell is snitching?” he looked around as if to find the culprit.

Toji ignored him, sitting down beside you now, setting the lipstick on the table like a trophy. “she’ll wear it once.. for me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Gojo sneered. “I’ll buy her a whole set. nudes, gloss, plumpers. I’ll line ‘em up like fuckin' pokémon cards.”

Toji's mouth twitched. “must be rough, havin' to work that hard.”

"Excuse me??!!"

As if the first jab wasn't enough, Toji twisted the knife. “the shit some losers gotta do just for a shot.”

Gojo narrowed his eyes at him, giving him a long look before immediately scooting closer to you. “tell him, baby,” he said, draping himself over your shoulder. “tell him who you love the most.”

A yawn echoed from the hallway.

“Jeez, are we still doing this?” Geto appeared a second later, stretching lazily as he walked in. His gaze landed on the lipstick in Gojo's hand. “and someone please hide the damn lipstick before satoru tries to use it.”

“Oh, I'm absolutely using it,” Gojo said without missing a beat. “maybe I’ll kiss her neck with it, make her pretty.”

You let out the most undignified wheeze of your life.

Toji just sat there, jaw twitching, staring at Gojo like he was debating whether murder would hold up in court. Eventually, Nanami had enough. He stood up, walked over, plucked the lipstick from Gojo's hand, and sighed.

“I'll return this and get her the right shade.” Then he looked between the two of them. “you're both idiots. go die.”

And honestly? Thank God.

to be continued in the next chapter

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[jinjoohaaa]

JJK MEN X READER !!!

Four roommates. One girl. Zero self-control.

art by @ thatsallitchief ✧⁠*⁠。

Room for One more ?

Pairing : JJK Men x reader

Synopsis : You moved in for cheap rent, not to get passed around. but with four insanely hot men under same roof, it didn’t take long before things got messy. now you’re cockwarming nanami at midnight, riding gojo in the shower, bent over for geto before dinner, and getting your throat fucked by toji. college? peace? who needs it when you’re getting dicked down for good?

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen

chapter seventeen coming soon...

Side stories are here

A/N : this fic is very smut-heavy and most chapters contain multiple smut scenes. if that’s not something you’re comfortable reading, please feel free to skip this one *⁠.⁠✧

Wanna be on the taglist? sign up here

[deerlydedeh]

You pull a condom out of its wrapper to propose to Pierrot to have sex.

Pierrot: “My dear…? Why are you taking out a balloon? Do you want me to make you a cute flower? I’m very good with my hands.” *he assumes it’s one of those balloons clowns use...*

You: “No, Pierrot, it’s for—” *stares at his very practical hands*

Pierrot: *quickly blows into the condom, shaping it into a cute little dog*

You: o.o

Pierrot: *show off his creation, very proud of it* “Tadaaan!”

[sundered-star]

Is it just me or Phainon's into mirror s*x?

Just imagine doing it with him while he praises you for taking it like a good girl/boy 😫 and compliments you?! 😳

If you think he only acts like an innocent samoyed puppy.. WAIT, til' he gets on that freaky side of him. He's that bold type of flirty guy to turn you on than any vibrator could ever do.

...NEED A FANFIC FOR THIS!!!

Correct me if I'm wrong (I can never be wrong for this one👺)

[thisiscareless]

and if i get burned, at least we were electrified.

(‘only bought this dress so you could take it off’ — part three. Part one here. Part two here.)

adult zuko x reader | contains smut | minors dni.

summary: in which the fire nation waits for its future fire lady, your name is nowhere in the conversation, and zuko’s silence says all you need to know until you’re proven very wrong.

content: adult!zuko x reader, angst with a happy ending, explicit sexual content (the most explicit I’ve written ngl), friends to lovers, the gaang participating and teasing, action, humor, fluff, tooth-rotting love declarations.

𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The street curved gently along the inner ring of the city, where the noise of the harbor faded into half-open shops, low-burning incense, and voices blending into a steady hum.

You preferred this part of the Fire Nation. It was always easier to disappear in it.

“… I’m just saying,” Toph said, catching your arm as she walked beside you, “if he had something to say, he would’ve said it by now.”

“That’s not how things work here,” Katara replied, patient but firm. “There are protocols, expectations… not even he can just ignore the council.”

Toph scoffed. “He ignores them all the time.”

“Not about this. He doesn’t have a choice.”

“Well, that doesn’t make it right that he escorted her out of the palace and hasn’t said anything since.”

“Toph!” Katara scolded.

“It’s fine, Katara,” you said, placing your hand over Toph’s where it rested on your arm. “As much as I hate to admit it… she’s right.”

It had been days. Long enough for the palace to feel distant again, like something imagined rather than lived, somewhere you had stood, somewhere you had—

You stopped that thought before it could even dare to take shape.

“It is out of character for Zuko to cut off communication,” Katara insisted. “He must have a reason.”

“He better,” Toph muttered. “Otherwise he’s getting his ass kicked the next time I feel him take a step near me.”

That almost made you smile.

“If he ever does,” you said quietly.

Toph tilted her head.

“You’ve been avoiding the palace,” she said. “You could’ve gone back. You could’ve seen him already.”

“That’s not true. I’m not avoiding anything.”

“You haven’t gone back.”

You exhaled, soft and brief. “I didn’t think I needed to. And I still don’t…”

A group passed just ahead of you, their voices carrying in that effortless way through the crowded street.

“…it’s already decided, from what I heard.”

“Of course it is. They wouldn’t drag it out.”

“She must be someone important.”

“She has to be. The Fire Nation wouldn’t settle for less.”

Your steps slowed.

“I heard she’s from the Earth Kingdom.”

“They say she’s beautiful… from a noble line—”

You stopped, Toph stopped with you.

Katara turned, already watching you, then glanced back at the voices before returning her attention to your face. “You know they don’t actually know anything,” she said gently.

“They seem to know enough,” you replied.

Toph let out a quiet huff. “No, they don’t. They’re just filling in the blanks with whatever sounds right to them.”

“It makes sense,” you said again, your tone calm, perhaps too much. “He needs someone who benefits the nation. That’s the entire point.”

“And you don’t?” Katara asked.

You didn’t answer.

Because the answer wasn’t something you wanted to examine, at least not here, not now, not with strangers speaking as if your life were something distant and theoretical.

You straightened your posture.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said at last. “Whatever he decides, it’ll be the right choice for the Fire Nation.”

Toph snorted.

“Keep telling yourself that, pebbles.”

Toph’s nickname still lingered in the air when the wind shifted above you.

A broad and familiar shadow crossed the street, and a second later Aang landed swiftly between you and the others, his eyes moving quickly from face to face as if counting, making sure no one was missing.

“Good, you’re close,” he said, a little out of breath. “There’s been a break along the ridge road, just past the outer fields, the one that runs above the old quarry.”

You stilled.

“If it’s along the quarry edge, the base won’t hold for long,” you said, already turning toward the eastern slope without thinking.

Toph tilted her chin up slightly, listening through the soles of her feet.

“It’s shifting,” she confirmed. “Not fast, but it’s definitely not stable.”

Katara’s hand found your arm briefly.

“How bad?”

“Bad enough that if someone panics and tries to cross, the whole thing will give in,” you replied, already moving with Katara and Toph as Aang followed. “Worse if they try to force carts over it.”

“Sokka’s there,” Aang added quickly. “He went ahead when the reports came in.”

“At least he’s there,” you said. “We need to hurry.”

Without letting go of either Toph or Katara, you gathered the fabric of your skirt slightly as the stone road gave way to packed earth, the city thinning into low houses and wind-bent trees, the air turning drier, sharper.

“And…” Aang hesitated,“…Zuko’s on his way.”

Toph scoffed.

“Perfect.”

Perfect, indeed.

♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The ridge revealed itself like a wound carved into the road.

The path curved along the quarry’s edge, and where it should have held firm, there was a jagged and uneven split, the outer half sagging just enough to tilt a loaded cart toward the drop below. The ground hadn’t broken cleanly; it had given in layers, ash and stone shifting against each other debating between holding or collapsing.

Dust hung low in the air, fine and persistent, clinging to skin, settling into fabric. A group of villagers hovered nearby, caught between urgency and fear, their voices overlapping in restless waves.

Sokka’s voice cut through it all.

“No one crosses until we figure this out! I don’t care if your cabbages are going bad, you’re not dying for them!”

“You said that ten minutes ago!” someone shouted.

“And it’s still true!”

He turned as you approached, relief flashing across his face.

“There you are! Quick summary," Sokka said, gesturing sharply with the hand that held a rope, "the road’s trying to fall into the quarry, the cart’s trying to follow it, and everyone’s trying to help, which is, shockingly, not helping.”

You followed the direction of his gesture.

The cart sat at the very edge of the fracture, its rear wheels still on relatively stable ground while the front had dipped into the uneven split, one side lower than the other. The weight of it dragged forward at a slow, dangerous angle, sacks and crates stacked high enough to shift if given the slightest encouragement. Every small movement such as someone stepping too close or even a stone giving way, made it creak.

Toph and you stepped beside him, your attention already moving across the fracture along with the angle, the depth, the way the earth had split along a weak seam rather than broken outright.

“If anyone pushes that cart like this,” you said, your voice grounded enough to cut through the noise around you, “it won’t just fall.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Sokka muttered. “And someone still suggested we just… pull harder.”

Toph unwrapped her arm from yours and crouched near the split, pressing her fingers into the dirt, her brows knitting as she read the ground.

“It’s hollow underneath,” she said. “If I push from below, it collapses.”

“Maybe don’t push,” you said, lowering beside her. “Pack it."

Toph nodded once, already adjusting her stance. "I could compress the ash instead of forcing it upward", she said, a hand on her chin. "And let it settle into itself.”

Katara stepped closer to the fracture, crouching opposite Toph. She drew a thin stream of water from her waterskin, letting it spill over the loose surface where ash and dust threatened to slide.

“I can bind the top layer,” she said, her voice focused now. “Just enough to keep it from shifting while she compacts it.”

“Not too much,” you added quickly. “If it gets too wet, it’ll slip.”

Katara nodded, adjusting the flow immediately, spreading the water in a thin, controlled layer that darkened the ash without saturating it.

Above them, Aang hovered lower now, guiding steady currents of air to lift the dust away from the fracture, clearing visibility and easing the pressure of falling debris.

“I’ll keep the edge clear,” he said. “Nothing’s coming down on you.”

“Good,” Toph replied, already working.

Sokka nudged your shoulder.

“So, our part?”

You looked at the cart again as it tilted due to uneven weight, the strain pulling one wheel deeper into the soft ground.

“We lighten it,” you said. “Half the load off. Then we can reinforce the edge and guide it across.”

“Guide it,” Sokka repeated. “I like that. Sounds like we survive.”

A faint smile pulled at your lips.

“Secure the axle,” you added. “We guide it from both sides so it doesn’t tip.”

“On it.”

You turned to a villager you recognized, your tone steady enough to anchor the rest.

“We’re moving the supplies first,” you said. “No one crosses until we say so. It will hold, we just need a moment.”

They nodded, and that certainty spread quickly, calming the edges of the crowd.

Soon, movement replaced hesitation. Crates were passed down, hands working in rhythm, weight shifting from cart to ground. Katara kept one eye on the villagers even as she worked with the earth, stepping in when someone got too close, her voice soft but firm, typical Katara.

“Just a little further back... yes, there. You’re safe.”

You were halfway through unloading when warmth brushed the back of your neck and boots struck the ground behind you.

You didn’t turn, not even by mistake.

“What’s the situation?” Zuko asked.

Sokka gestured loosely. “Road’s breaking, cart’s heavy, we’re amazing.”

“We’re stabilizing before moving anything,” you corrected.

“I can see that.”

You turned.

He looked as though he had stepped straight out of the palace into the dust. His formal attire remained intact, though softened at the edges by ash and wind, dark strands of hair slipping loose where they were meant to stay in place. The gold woven into his robes caught what little light broke through the haze, dimmed but unmistakable.

And suddenly, being angry at him felt like its own kind of punishment. Because it meant distance, one you, if you had a choice, didn't want to endure.

His gaze found you then, and held just a fraction longer than necessary.

“Then you’re up to speed, Fire Lord.”

A flicker crossed his eyes.

“Good to know I didn’t miss anything.”

Toph let out a short laugh.

“Oh, you definitely missed something.”

“Toph,” Katara warned, though she didn’t stop shaping the surface, water threading through her movements.

“What do you need?” Zuko asked, already stepping forward.

“Controlled heat along the fracture,” you said. “Low and steady. Seal it after Toph compacts.”

He nodded.

“At your call.”

Toph pressed deeper, the earth tightening under her control, ash compressing into something solid. Katara followed her rhythm, smoothing the surface with precise movements of water, binding the top layer just enough to hold.

“Now,” you said.

Zuko’s fire traced the fracture, sealing the line without breaking it, the heat drying and hardening what the others shaped. Aang adjusted the air again, lifting the last of the dust away.

You and Sokka moved back into position beside the cart.

“Go slow,” you murmured.

“I am going slow.”

“Slower.”

Zuko exhaled something close to a quiet laugh.

“It’s leaning left,” you said.

“Compensating,” Sokka replied.

The rope snapped tight in your hands, the weight shifting too quickly. Before you could adjust or protest, Zuko’s hand covered yours.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, close enough now that his voice dropped just for you. “Let it settle first.”

“I know. I don't need help," you said.

His thumb shifted slightly, correcting your grip. Your breath caught.

Behind you, Toph laughed outright.

“Do I get help too, or is this exclusive?” Sokka added.

“Focus,” you said, though your voice’s edge was not found.

Zuko’s hand remained over yours a moment longer, steadying the pull of the rope as the ground beneath the cart shifted again, settling. Under Toph’s control, the loose ash compacted inward, tightening around the hollow pockets below, while a thin layer of moisture from Katara bound the surface just enough to keep it from slipping apart. The fracture no longer yawned open; it held, uneven but reinforced, the weight redistributing instead of dragging forward.

Zuko withdrew his hand.

“Alright,” you said, adjusting your grip, grounding yourself again. “Now we move.”

You and Sokka guided the cart, adjusting with each inch, while Zuko steadied the front, his movements precise and responsive as ever.

“Easy,” you said.

The cart shifted again. The wheel dragged over the uneven seam, resisted, then yielded, inch by careful inch, until the weight finally rolled past the fracture and onto solid ground. Only then did the strain release, the cart settling fully, the danger passing not in a break but in surrender to stability.

Relief spread through the ridge in a single, shared exhale.

Voices rose in a different and lighter tone, gratitude threading through them as people stepped forward again, no longer afraid of the ground beneath them. The man who had spoken to you earlier approached first, dust still clinging to his sleeves, his hands rough from work and now empty of it.

“It was helpful you knew this place. You kept us from making it worse,” he said, glancing briefly toward the cart before returning his gaze to you. “We were ready to push it over ourselves.”

You shook your head gently. “You waited. That made the difference!”

He smiled faintly, then looked past you. “All of you did.”

Others followed, quieter but no less certain. A woman clasped Katara’s hands briefly, thanking her for keeping everyone steady when panic had started to spread. Someone else nodded toward Toph with a mix of awe and familiarity, clearly having felt the ground shift under her control. A young boy hovered near Aang before blurting out a rushed thank you, eyes wide at the way the dust had simply… stopped falling around him. Even Sokka received a few claps on the shoulder, one villager gesturing toward the now-stable cart.

“Good thinking with the rope,” they said.

Sokka straightened slightly. “I do bring strategy to the table.”

“You tied knots,” Toph muttered under her breath.

“Strategic knots.”

You let out a small breath of a laugh, the sound more subdued than the moment called for, but it slipped out anyway.

At the edge of the clearing, just beyond the villagers and the scattered crates from the cart, a pair of Fire Nation guards stood apart from the worksite, their posture composed, untouched by the dust and urgency that had taken over the ridge. They had arrived with him, they were palace detail, not local patrol, you noticed- and unlike the others, they hadn’t intervened.

One of them now held a lacquered box, smaller than the supply crates, its surface polished to a quiet sheen despite the haze around it. It didn’t belong to the cart. It had been carried here.

For a moment, the guard hesitated, glancing toward Zuko as if awaiting instruction now that the immediate crisis had passed.

Zuko noticed, and stepped away from the group, crossing the short distance with that same controlled steadiness he owned.

The guard straightened immediately, offering the box forward.

“My lord—”

Zuko took it before he could finish, his grip firm but unceremonious, as though the exchange required no announcement.

He didn’t look at you, but the path he chose to walk placed him close enough that the space between you narrowed again, the weight of the moment returning in subtler ways.

Behind you, someone cleared their throat. Loudly.

“Alright,” Toph said, arms crossing as she angled her chin in your direction, “are we done fixing things, or do we need another disaster so you two can keep staring at each other?”

“I vote we’re done,” Sokka added immediately, lifting a hand like he was calling it in a council meeting. “Strong vote. Unanimous, actually.”

Toph tilted her head slightly, as if listening for something only she could catch, then smirked.

“Yeah,” she went on, louder now, “we’re definitely done here. Ground’s stable, cart’s safe, tension’s… not our problem.”

“Not even a little,” Sokka agreed. He clapped his hands once, dusting them off. “Which means we should probably go check… literally anywhere else.”

“Anywhere,” Toph echoed.

Katara let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “We’ll be just over there,” she added, gesturing vaguely in the opposite direction. Far enough to be out of earshot, but close enough to pretend they weren’t leaving on purpose.

Aang nodded quickly. “Yes. Monitoring. Very important.”

“Extremely!” Katara said, reaching for Aang's hand.

Toph had already started walking with Sokka.

“Try not to break anything else,” she threw over her shoulder, entirely too pleased with herself.

“And if you do,” Sokka added, backing away now, “we’re not fixing it.”

Katara gave you one last look in a gentler, but no less knowing way, before turning to follow them.

“So,” you said at last, turning to face Zuko, your tone steadier than you felt, “I think congratulations are in order, Fire Lord. I heard you made your choice.”

“You… did?” he asked, uncertainity slipping into his voice.

You nodded, though your gaze dropped almost immediately, your foot nudging at the edge of the grass where it met the packed earth like the ground required your full attention once again. Anything to avoid looking at him, anything to avoid the way your vision threatened to blur.

“She’s a noblewoman from the Earth Kingdom, right?” you continued. “Someone… appropriate. Someone the Fire Nation can benefit from.”

Silence answered you.

You looked up and he was staring at you, completely, utterly speechless. It made something in your chest twist.

“Of course,” you went on, the edge slipping into your voice now, “that’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

Your arms crossed before you could stop yourself, the motion sharper than you intended. Your fingers dug into your sleeves, knuckles tightening.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” you pressed. “Am I wrong?”

For a moment, it almost seemed like he might answer, finally say something that would settle the tight, aching uncertainty sitting in your heart. His mouth parted, then closed again, his jaw tightening.

Instead, he laughed.

You went still, your grip loosening just slightly before tightening again, breath catching halfway in your chest.

“Why are you laughing?” you asked, the hurt breaking through now, unfiltered. “This is serious. If it’s not that, then what is it? Not like you can correct me, you’ve been avoiding me!”

The laughter disappeared as quickly as it had come when you turned away from him, the movement abrupt, but you didn’t make it far.

His hand found your arm without force, but pulling you just enough to face him again.

“I know,” he said. “And I—”

“And before an excuse leaves those—” you cut in, your voice sharper than you meant it to be, “—those exquisite lips of yours, maybe think about what you’re going to say first.”

“I am sorry,” he said.

You blinked. The words landed heavier than anything else he could have said.

“What…” The word barely formed. You swallowed, your gaze searching his face, tracing it like you might find the meaning there before you could trust your own ears. “What did you say?”

Despite everything, that familiar hint of amusement returned to his mouth.

“What did you say?” he countered. “Exquisite lips?”

You stared at him.

“Don’t,” you said quickly, heat rising to your face despite yourself. “That’s not— that doesn’t matter. Why are you sorry?” you pressed. “What do you mean?”

He held the box firmly for a moment longer, as though whatever it carried required more than just his hands to keep steady, then let it fall to his side with a quiet breath.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come,” he said, his voice lower now, stripped of anything that resembled formality. “And I understand why you didn’t return. The council has been occupying my time, as you know…”

“Did they cancel their command?” you asked, stepping closer before you could stop yourself, the distance between you suddenly unbearable. There was something fragile in the way the question left you that reached for hope despite everything. “You didn’t have to choose?”

He didn’t speak, nor he needed to. The answer settled in the quiet shift of his expression, in the way his gaze held yours without softening.

Your hand rose to your chest, pressing there, wishing you could steady the feeling before it broke entirely.

“So… then you chose someone.”

“I did,” he said.

There was no hesitation in it, no uncertainty, and that made it worse.

“But it’s not a matter of whether I chose,” he continued, something quieter threading through his speech. “It’s whether she chooses me too.”

You nodded slowly, though the movement felt distant, disconnected from the rest of you. Of course she would. Anyone would. He was the Fire Lord, so respected and powerful, and he was Zuko. Your Zuko.

You looked down at the grass beneath your feet, your thoughts tangling into something far less composed than you wanted them to be. Pride and longing pulled in opposite directions, each one demanding to be heard, to be chosen, to be acted upon before the moment slipped through your hands entirely.

You could say it.

You could end it there and put words to everything you had carried, everything you had refused to name, even if it meant losing him in the same breath.

Or you could stay silent. Walk away with dignity intact, even if it cost you more than you were willing to admit.

The decision hovered, ever so fragile, until something moved in your peripheral vision.

The box.

He lifted it between you, holding it out with a steadiness that contrasted the tension that had settled around you both.

You raised an eyebrow, more out of instinct than understanding, and took it from his hands, the weight of it grounding in a way nothing else had.

“What’s in there is yours,” he said, his gaze never leaving you. “Because you deserve it.”

A breath passed.

“And you can choose not to accept it.”

Curiosity moved through you before reason could stop it, your fingers lifting the lid of the box with a care that felt disproportionate to something so simple. The hinge gave without resistance, and what waited inside made your breath falter in a way you couldn’t quite control.

Your dress.

The one you had worn that night, the one that had carried you into that room, into him. The one you had left behind without a second thought, discarded against the stone floor of his bath in a moment that had felt too consuming to hold onto anything else.

Your fingertips brushed over the fabric, slow, almost reverent, the layered silk shifting beneath your touch like a quiet flame. The deep red caught the light even here, subdued by the dust of the ridge but no less alive, while the gold threading along the bodice traced familiar patterns beneath your fingers, subtle and precise, unmistakably Fire Nation in its design. It felt the same, but above all, it felt like that night.

“I should have returned it sooner,” Zuko said, his voice quieter now, closer than before, though you hadn’t noticed him step nearer. “But I didn’t know how to give it back without…” He exhaled softly. “Without it meaning more than it already does.”

You didn’t lift your gaze.

“I kept it,” he continued, and there was something unguarded in the admission that carried weight beyond the words themselves. “At first, because it was yours. And then… because it reminded me of everything I didn’t say when I had the chance.”

Your fingers stilled against the fabric.

“You’ve always been my friend,” he said, and the word landed gently, but it didn’t soften the impact. “My closest one. The person who stayed when I didn’t deserve it. The one who saw through every version of me I tried to hide behind.”

Something in your throat drew tight.

“I’ve made mistakes,” he went on, quieter now, his voice threading through the space between you. “More than I can count. And somehow, through all of them… you never stopped seeing me clearly. Even when I didn’t know how to see myself.”

Your grip on the edge of the box tightened.

“I thought that was enough,” he admitted. “That having you there, having you beside me in that way, was something I could hold onto without asking for more. But it isn’t. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

You lifted your gaze, your vision blurred at the edges, tears gathering in a way that felt unfamiliar and nothing like what you had braced yourself for.

He was closer than you expected.

Close enough that you could see a quiet undoing. The restraint he held so carefully began to fray at the edges, the steadiness of his mouth faltering, his breath unmeasured, his gaze no longer shielded. Whatever he had kept contained slipped free in the way his eyes lingered on yours without retreat, in the fragile openness that replaced his certainty, in the tenderness that seemed to rise despite him, bare and unprotected, with nowhere else left to go but toward you.

“I don’t want you like a best friend,” he said. “I never really did.”

He reached forward, setting the box between you on top of the grass before his hand moved to the fabric. He lifted the dress with care, the silk sliding through his fingers like it recognized the warmth of him, when a glint broke free from its folds.

It slipped loose with a hush, a soft, fleeting sound against the ground, so quiet it might have gone unnoticed, had it not caught the light.

Gold, warmed by the same tones that traced the dress. A ring with a stone set at its center that held its own quiet fire.

You drew your lower lip between your teeth without thinking, your eyes widening.

Zuko bent to retrieve it, and when he rose, he did not falter.

Not this time.

He stepped closer, the space between you giving way in slow, inevitable increments. The ring rested between his fingers, but it wasn’t what held your attention. It was the way his hand steadied when it neared you, how the slightest tremor gave way to resolve. The way his gaze didn’t leave yours, not even for a second, like looking away was no longer something he could bear.

He stopped only when there was nowhere left to step without touching you.

“I spoke to the council,” Zuko said. “I agreed to their terms: to choose among the guests in the gathering, to entertain their expectations, to follow through with what they believed was best for the Fire Nation.” His gaze softened, recalling it all now from a distance that no longer held the same weight. “I thought I could endure it. That if I listened long enough, if I gave them what they wanted to hear, I could still make the decision my own in the end.”

You let out a breath that trembled despite yourself, your fingers still resting against the silk in the box. “That doesn’t sound like something you would agree to,” you murmured.

“It isn’t,” he admitted. "And I didn’t. Not entirely.” His eyes flickered with something that resembled quiet amusement, though it never strayed far from you. “My uncle had… opinions.”

That drew something from you before you could stop it: a soft, disbelieving breath that almost became a laugh. “Of course he did.”

“He insisted,” Zuko continued, and now the warmth settled more openly into his tone, “that if I was going to be forced into choosing, then I should at least have every option available to me.” He paused just long enough for the meaning to settle. “Even the ones the council didn’t think to include.”

“So, when he made you invite me...,” you said, the realization unfolding in pieces.

"It was without their knowledge. Which meant that when I agreed to their conditions…," his gaze held yours. “I already knew how I intended to challenge them.”

A small, incredulous breath left you. “You planned it.”

“I hoped,” he corrected gently.

You shook your head faintly, though the motion carried no real disagreement, only the overwhelming weight of shock settling into place. “That sounds exactly like something he suggest you to do.”

“It does,” Zuko said, and this time the hint of a smile reached his lips fully. “He was very pleased with himself.”

“I’m sure he was,” you replied, unable to stop the faint curve of your own mouth.

“I used their rules,” he said, far more intentional, “to make a choice they couldn’t argue with. And when they did, even if they were already trapped, I gave them arguments they couldn’t refuse. About loyalty. About trust. About someone who understands the balance we’re trying to build better than any noble name ever could. About you," he continued, stepping just a fraction closer. "I told them that if they were asking me to choose a future for this nation, then they would have to accept that I already knew who belonged in it.”

The ring remained in his hand.

You hadn’t stopped looking at it, not really. Even when your eyes lifted to meet his again, even when his voice held you there, you stayed aware of it.

“I spent days trying to say it the right way,” Zuko continued, his voice stripped of everything except truth. “Trying to deal with the guilt that came from tying you to something you might not even want, but also coming to terms with what I’d done and, let you decide instead.”

His thumb shifted slightly against the band.

“You chose me,” you said softly, the words barely more than breath, as if saying them too loudly might undo them.

“I did,” Zuko answered, no doubt left for you to question. “And I would do it again.”

Your chest tightened, something fragile and overwhelming unfolding all at once, your fingers curling slightly against the fabric of the dress still resting in the box between you.

“But I meant it: I don’t want this to be something decided for you,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less firm. “Not by the council. Not by me. So... what do you think?"

For a moment, you didn’t answer.

Not because you didn’t know what to say, but because the answer had been there for longer than you had allowed yourself to admit, waiting beneath every glance, every almost, every moment you had forced yourself to step back instead of forward.

Your hands found his before you could overthink it, fingers wrapping around his, warm against your palms, making everything else fall away. You felt the slight tension in him ease at the contact.

“I think that…” you began, your eyes never leaving his, “I don’t want you like a best friend either.”

His hand rose to your jaw, fingers finding their place beneath your ear, along the line of your throat, settling there with a steadiness that made your pulse turn restless against his touch. His thumb brushed once, slow, like he needed to feel you there before allowing himself anything more.

And then he closed the distance. The kiss wasn’t rushed. It lingered the second it began, his mouth finding yours with a care that made something in your chest give way all at once. There was no edge to it, no restraint left to hold it back. Your fingers tightened against him before you realized it, curling into the fabric at his sleeve. The other hand found his shoulder as you leaned into him, closing what little space still remained.

He didn’t hesitate at the contact. His hand shifted like he needed to keep you there, like letting you go had stopped being an option the moment you hadn’t stepped back.

The wind moved somewhere beyond you. Voices carried faintly in the distance. The world continued, unchanged, untouched. But none of it reached you. Not when he held you close enough that you could feel the rhythm of him, steady against you. Not when the warmth of his touch felt so deeply familiar it settled into you without resistance, yet new enough that every second of it stayed sharp, impossible to ignore, something your body was still learning even as it recognized it completely.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours, his breath still uneven, though his hands remained steady where they held you.

You gave him your hand.

His fingers guided the ring into place, the gold catching the light as it settled where it belonged.

“Well, that took long enough.”

Toph’s voice carried across the ridge like she had been waiting for exactly this moment.

You both turned to find the rest of the group not nearly as far away as they had pretended to be, clustered together in a way that made it very clear they had seen everything.

“I told you,” Sokka said, already striding toward you with far too much enthusiasm, “we could’ve skipped the emotional crisis and gone straight to this…”

He stopped right in front of you and then immediately pulled you into a hug.

“Oh my—wait—no—” he froze mid-embrace, pulling back just enough to look at you with exaggerated horror. “Is this… is this allowed? Should I not be doing this? Is this, like, a royal offense now?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, the sound light and uncontrollable.

“I think you’re fine.”

“Are we sure?” he asked, lowering his voice like this was suddenly a very serious concern. “Because if I just violated some kind of royal boundary, I’d like to know now before guards appear out of nowhere.”

Aang stepped forward, grinning, entirely unbothered by any of it. “I’m still hugging her.”

And he did hug you, completely sincere.

Sokka pointed immediately. “See? Now if he gets arrested, I’m blaming Toph."

"What did I do?" she asked, hugging you after Aang.

"You didn't tell me not to hug her." he said, proceeding to pat Zuko's back in a congratulatory way. “Or to bow. Because I’m not bowing. I refuse. I draw the line at bowing.”

“You’ve never bowed in your life,” Katara said, stepping forward, though her smile softened the remark as she reached for your hands, squeezing them gently. Her gaze flickered to the ring, then back to your face. “I’m really happy for you,” she added. “For both of you.”

“I’m glad you all approve,” Zuko said, the faintest hint of humor threading through his voice as he glanced at them.

Toph huffed. “We don’t approve,” she said. “We tolerate. There’s a difference.”

“She means she’s happy,” Aang translated helpfully.

“I am not.”

“You sound happy,” Katara said.

“I sound correct.”

Sokka pointed between the two of you. “For the record, I’ve been emotionally invested in this for a long time, so I feel like I deserve partial credit.”

Zuko's thumbs brushed ightly against the fabric at your sides before he finally glanced up.

“At most,” he said, “you can take credit for… not making things worse.”

Toph snorted. “That’s generous.”

You laughed. “Very generous.”

Sokka looked between all of them, betrayed. “Wow. Okay. Noted. I’m surrounded by people who don’t appreciate emotional support. Alright,” Sokka said, clapping once, recovering his composure with visible effort. “So, celebration plan. I’m thinking food, obviously. Maybe something dramatic. Fireworks? Is that too on the nose?”

“It’s the Fire Nation,” Aang said. “It’s never too on the nose.”

“Perfect,” he nodded. “Then we’re doing it.”

Zuko exhaled softly beside you.

When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you, not saying anything, and not really needing to.

For once, neither of you looked away.

♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The heavy oak door clicked shut behind you, sealing out the world, the council, your friends, and the endless weight of the Fire Nation. For a single, suspended moment, you and Zuko stood facing each other at the threshold of his chamber, the same room that now felt entirely different.

Candlelight flickered across the walls, gold dancing over silk and shadow, over the familiar space that had once held distance and now held none at all. The bed stood at the center untouched, but neither of you moved toward it yet.

Zuko’s hands found your waist, pulling you close. His fingers curled into the fabric of your robe, and he was smiling- not the tight, controlled smile he normally wore, but almost giddy. His eyes roamed your face like he was memorizing every detail.

“We’re alone,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “Finally.”

You didn’t answer with words. You rose on your toes and kissed him: deep, open-mouthed, hungry. He groaned into your mouth, his arms wrapping around you, crushing you against his chest. The kiss was messy, eager, all tongue and teeth and the shared taste of the celebratory tea you’d drunk earlier with his Uncle Iroh. His hands slid down your back, cupping your ass, squeezing as he pulled your hips flush against his.

You could feel him already hardening through the layers of silk. The evidence of his desire pressed against your belly, and you rocked into him deliberately, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips.

“Patience,” he murmured, though his voice was strained.

“No,” you breathed, nipping at his lower lip. “You forget I’ve waited too long.”

Your fingers found the tie of his formal robe, tugging it loose. The heavy red fabric fell open, revealing the pale expanse of his chest, the lean muscle, the scattered scars. You pushed the robe off his shoulders, letting it pool at his feet. He stood before you, bare except for his loose trousers, the firelight painting his skin in amber and shadow.

You let your gaze travel down his body: the hard planes of his abdomen, the dark trail of hair disappearing below his waist, the prominent bulge straining against the silk of his trousers. Your mouth watered.

“Your turn,” he said, his fingers already working at the knot of your sash. He was less patient than he pretended; the fabric slid away quickly, and he pushed your robe aside, baring you to the warm air. His breath caught. “I’ve always known it, and I’ve seen you, but… spirits, you’re beautiful.”

His hands found your breasts, cupping them, thumbs brushing over your nipples. They stiffened under his touch, and you arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. He leaned down, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently, then harder, his tongue circling the sensitive peak. You gasped, your fingers threading into his hair, holding him there.

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his free hand sliding down your stomach, between your legs. His fingers found you wet, slick, ready. He groaned against your skin.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with want. “Is that because we’re engaged, or because you’ve been thinking about this all day?”

“Both,” you admitted, your hips grinding against his hand. “I couldn’t stop imagining your mouth on me, like at breakfast, even when I was mad at you.”

He growled, low and possessive, and suddenly he was lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carried you to the bed, laying you down on the silk sheets, the cool fabric a shock against your heated skin. He stood over you, his eyes dark with desire, his cock straining against his trousers.

“I want to taste you,” he said, his voice rough.

“Actually, I have an engagement night request,” you said, stopping him. “I want to taste you, Zuko.”

His eyes shone. With no further discussion, He tugged at his trousers, pushing them down his hips. His cock sprang free- long, thick, flushed a deep red at the tip, already leaking a bead of pre-cum. You reached for him, wrapping your hand around his shaft, feeling the heat and the velvety softness of his skin stretched over the hardness beneath. You stroked him slowly, watching his eyes flutter shut, his breath hitch.

Then you leaned forward, taking the head into your mouth.

Zuko groaned, a deep, guttural sound that seemed to come from somewhere primal, something you’d never heard before. You swirled your tongue around the tip, tasting the salt of his arousal, then took him deeper, your lips sliding down his length. His hand found the back of your head without pushing, just resting there, his fingers trembling.

“That feels– yes,” he breathed. “just like that.”

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking as you pulled back, then plunged down again, establishing a rhythm. His taste was intoxicating, and the sounds he made- the broken moans, the whispered curses- only made you more eager. You took him as deep as you could, feeling him hit the back of your throat, your nose brushing against the coarse hair at his base.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his golden eyes fixed on you. “Taking me like that…”

You looked up at him, your lips stretched around his cock, and the sight of his face all flushed, eyes half-lidded, and lips parted in pleasure made you moan around him. The vibration sent a shudder through his body. His hips bucked involuntarily, driving him deeper.

He pulled back before he came, his chest heaving. “Not yet,” he panted.

He guided you back onto the bed, your head sinking into a pillow. He rose over you, his cock nudging at your entrance. He paused, hovering, his eyes meeting yours. “I couldn’t get tired of this view…”

“Me neither.”

He pushed in. The stretch was exquisite, a slow, burning fullness that made you gasp and arch. He filled you completely, inch by inch, until his hips were flush against yours, and you could feel him deep inside, pressing against that sensitive spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. He stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours.

“You feel incredible,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “So tight. So perfect.”

Then he began to move in long, slow strokes that dragged against your walls, each thrust a deliberate, loving caress. He set a rhythm, steady and deep, his hips rolling against yours. The angle was perfect with your legs wrapped around his waist, his weight a comforting pressure on top of you.

“Look at me,” he said, and you did. His eyes were burning, not with fire, but with emotion. “I want to see your face. I want to remember this forever.”

You reached up, cupping his scarred cheek, and he turned to press a kiss to your palm. His pace quickened, his thrusts growing harder, more desperate. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts.

He angled his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and you shattered. Your orgasm crashed through you, a wave of heat and pleasure that clenched around his cock, pulling him deeper. He cried out your name as he followed, his release hot and pulsing, filling you completely. He kept thrusting through the aftershocks, slowing only when you both lay trembling and spent.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms with a quiet urgency, like even now he wasn’t willing to risk any distance between you. His face found its place in the curve of your neck, his breath warm, uneven at first, then slowly settling as it brushed against your skin. You could feel the rhythm of his heart through the space between you, so fast and insistent, it hadn’t yet caught up with the stillness that had begun to settle around you.

“I…” His voice faltered, softer than you’d ever heard it, the word catching somewhere deeper than his throat. “I love you.”

You smiled, the warmth of it softening through you before you even realized it, your fingers drifting over his chest in slow, absent patterns, tracing the rise and fall of his breath, the steadying of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

“I love you too, Zuko.”

For a while, neither of you spoke.

The candles burned lower, their light steady now instead of restless, the room no longer charged with urgency. His fingers traced absent patterns along your arm, slow and thoughtful, like he was memorizing the shape of you in this moment, in this place that now belonged to both of you.

“Fire Lady,” he murmured after a while, the title quieter than it had ever sounded, as if he was still letting it become something real.

You huffed a small laugh against his shoulder. “That sounds… incredibly official.”

“It is,” he said. “But there’s no one I would rather call that.”

Your hand found his again, lacing your fingers together between you, his thumb brushing over the ring now resting where it belonged.

“…Sokka hugged you before I did.”

You blinked.

“What?”

Zuko shifted enough for you to catch the expression on his face, very clearly not as unaffected as he was trying to seem.

“He called you Fire Lady first,” he added. “And then he hugged you.”

You stared at him.

“You’re jealous of Sokka?”

“I’m not—” he started, then stopped, exhaling through his nose. “I just think the order of events was… incorrect.”

You laughed, the sound warm and bright, echoing in the room. “You proposed to me, Zuko.”

“Yes,” he said immediately.

“And you kissed me.”

“Yes.”

“And then Sokka hugged me.”

He frowned slightly, as though reconsidering the timeline. “That doesn’t make it better.”

“It absolutely does!”

You shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Besides,” you murmured against him, “I think you’ve made your position very clear.”

That earned the smallest hint of a smile from him, the tension finally giving way.

“Good,” he said.

You settled back against him, your head resting just beneath his chin, his arms wrapping around you again without hesitation nor doubt.

Outside, the palace still existed, the council, the expectations, the future waiting to be faced.

But in there, none of it felt overwhelming anymore. Because this time, it wasn’t something he had to face alone.

And neither were you.

♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Note: What. A. Journey. This has been. Thank you so much for the overwhelming support on these series, I really appreciate every comment and interaction. I didn’t want to make this longer but damn I love the dynamic created so much!! Bet I will write about engaged reader and you can feel free to picture the lore of these two lol.

I’m planing an extra that can be read as a standalone as a thank you for the support! So I hope you liked this and I hope you like that when it comes out. Xx

🏷️: @thatonegirlag

[crushmeeren]

☽ ⋆ ⋅ it’s not zuko’s fault his wife can’t keep her hands off him.

☼ cw ; fem! reader, fire lord zuko, being late to a meeting because you can’t stop riding zuko, mentions of all the babies you guys have, sokka being sokka. the gaang’s all here (after the sex).

☽ ⋆ ⋅ m.list

“Come on Zuko— one more time? Please?” You’re panting, naked, hands braced on Zuko’s sweaty chest as you grind back and forth in his lap.

His breath hitches from the sheets, squeezing your hips. “Seriously? I’m already late. How does it— fuck. Stop that!” Zuko frowns and pinches your ass when you tighten around his cock on purpose.

“How does it look if the Fire Lord can’t stop fucking his wife long enough to attend a simple meeting with the Avatar?” He continues.

Zuko is still half hard inside your pussy, cum trailing down his shaft— filling out thick and hot by the second.

“Then why are you getting hard again?” You tease, dipping down to suck on his throat.

“That— that’s unfair,” he moans. You draw back to look at his face, and his cheeks are flushed such a similar color to his scar it almost blends together entirely.

“And if you really thought this meeting with Aang was important you wouldn’t still be in bed with me.” You place your palm over Zuko’s mouth, grinning at the way his eyes go wide and his cock twitches.

“Now shut up and let me ride my husband one more time.”

When you walk into the fire temple chambers where the meeting is taking place, the entire group is there.

Aang and Katara share a look, laughing at the picture you and Zuko make. Hair mussed and clothes ruffled, a hickey high on Zuko’s throat.

Sokka looks thoroughly annoyed and throws his hands up in exasperation.

“Seriously dude?!” He shouts, jumping from his chair and jabbing a finger at the poorly hidden hickey. “This is why the fire temple is crawling with your offspring!”

Toph snickers, and Zuko doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

forgive me i wrote this in thirty minutes immediately after i watched the movie.

[singse]

"Do you think she likes being with me?" Zuko asks Iroh one warm evening, both of them sheltered under the tall tree's green leaves. They cast patterns across the grass and the small table their tray of tea sits. "Do you think that...she minds all of this?"

"Why the sudden question?" Iroh asks in return, settling down his cup. "Did something happen between you two? It's normal, you know. To have the occasional argument."

Zuko shakes his head. "No, nothing happened." His face softens, the corners of his mouth lifting up slightly. "Everything's been so great, it all feels like a fantasy sometimes. I just..." He trails off for a moment, hesitant. "Before we met, she was so free and spontaneous. She traveled around without a second thought because no obligations held her down. It remained the same when our relationship started until we got married and..."

"Became the Fire Lady," Iroh finishes, understanding. "You fear that she may be resentful towards you."

The words make Zuko flinch inwardly, his hands curling into fists in his lap.

"I sometimes wonder if I wasn't the Fire Lord," he confesses quietly. "If I refused to take the throne and chose to roam the world with her. If I had been born a regular person who was able to indulge in my whims and then met her." He stares at the deep reds of his robes that lay messily over his knees and finds he despises the colour. "I just...want her to be happy and I fear I'm not making her that."

Iroh doesn't reply at first, his face showcasing deep thought as he looks up at the vibrant leaves. Then he looks back at his nephew and smiles.

"You love her so much that if she asked to be free of you, you'd let her go without a second thought."

Zuko stares at him, wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape.

"How did you—?"

"I'm your uncle, Zuko," Iroh reminds him. "We've also spent over the last decade in each other's pockets. I can read you and you can probably read me."

"Probably?"

"I'm also wiser than you," Iroh teases. "And my poker face is far better than yours."

Zuko scoffs but he's amused, Iroh can tell.

"I know her too, Zuko," Iroh continues. "I know that she would not stay if she were not comfortable or happy. Do you know why?"

Zuko shakes his head.

"Because you've nutured your relationship into something beautiful and trusting. You have not trapped her in a cage like your father did your mother. You let her speak her mind and feel her feelings. You value her opinions and take them to heart, using them in your decisions everyday. You show her that she is the most important person in your life in every little thing that you do. I don't know about you but I think that's a relationship worth staying for."

A moment of silence follows allowing Iroh's words to sink in heavily. Zuko swallows thickly, blinking his eyes suspiciously fast as he clear his throat.

"Y–you really think that—?" He starts slowly but is interrupted by your arrival. You're running into the gardens, robes hitched up so the hem doesn't trip you. You collide into Zuko's back, laughing when you almost topple both of you over.

"Zuko!" You exclaim happily, clinging to him and Iroh watches, fond, as his nephew immediately adjusts himself to hold you in his lap. His arms are firm around your waist and his expression, despite shocked, melts into pure affection.

"My Lady," he says smoothly, playful enough that it has you giggling. "What has you running around this evening? Did something happen?"

You shake your head, grinning. "Nope. I just thought about how I haven't seen you since morning and I missed you." You place a soft kiss against his cheek, rendering him speechless, before turning to Iroh.

"You owe me a rematch in Pai Sho," you declare, eyes glimmering and Iroh laughs, belly deep.

"Bring it out now and we'll see if you've learned enough to almost beat me."

"I'll go get the board." You place another kiss on Zuko's cheek, closer to his lips this time, before running out to grab the board.

"Still think she minds all of this? Still think she resents you?" Iroh asks but he already knows the answer.

The deeply in love smile Zuko gives in your direction is the biggest answer he can get.

He's relieved.

Iroh's done his duty as an uncle once again.

[bluukive-deactivated20260523]

𖧧 (MDNI) Firelord Zuko is rather awkward when it comes to his playful wife

Sawrry for the double post, my fyp has been filled with my malewife and I had to try writing for him.

"Am I not good enough to sleep with yet, Firelord Zuko?"

"Tch. I told you not to call me that," your husband murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The wrinkled edges of his scar deepened as he refused to make eye contact with a very exposed you laying on your side. "I'm your husband, not some... some stranger you lay with every night."

"You certainly act like that way. You can't even make look at me in the eye without scowling," you retorted, rolling your eyes and shuffling into a seating position. The silk sheets under your bare knees had twisted as you moved, the man now listening to you tug your robe over yourself.

All whilst keeping his eyes off of you, of course.

Zuko moved around your bedroom, busy doing nothing as a heat bloomed across his cheeks hotter than any fire he could shoot out of his fingers.

He was the Firelord, for God's sake. Why couldn't he face his clearly receptive wife who wished not nothing more than getting intimate with him?

Your voice calling out again interrupted his conflicted thoughts. "I get it what this is about. You don't love me," you sniffled dramatically, turning your back to your husband so that the grin on your face was concealed from sight.

In an instant, he whipped around — eye twitching. "Don't— God. don't start. You know that's not true."

When you didn't reply, he shuffled over, scratching the back of his head with a curse. His long hair had been freed a while back, framing the angular contours of his face under the flickering candlelight. Were you really upset?

You turned around once his hot palm met your revealed shoulder, where the robe had slipped off of you somewhat. There, he saw the way your lips were pressed into a tight, thin line.

Ignoring the fullness of your chest to the best of his fading ability, the way it sloped downwards until your nipples poked out from between your robe, he opened his mouth to apologise.

Until your eyes flickered with mirth.

Zuko pushed back, face deadpan. "What is wrong with you— mmph!"

Your husbands complaints were cut short the moment you tugged him by the arm, obscuring his vision the second he face-planted into your breasts.

Not that he minded, of course — but it was rather difficult for Zuko to do anything when all he had was a mouthful of soft flesh he could barely breathe around.

You stroked his head, carded your fingers through his long hair somewhat lovingly yet scolding all the same. "I didn't know I married a prude. You can fight plenty on the battlefield, so why not in bed?"

"That's not the same," he argued, the flush on his face deepening further when he pulled away. His eyes searched your face, taking in each and every detail he had come to love so dearly.

Indeed, you were beautiful — and it was that exact reason he couldn't face doing anything with you.

It was as if he became overwhelmed with a sudden sense of inadequacy. It was a feeling he struggled to articulate into words, the old habit of resorting to impulsive means threatening to bubble up yet again.

But Zuko swallowed it down, shook his head, and cradled one side of your face. "It's not you. It's me," he began, "am I really worthy of—"

You shut the thought down immediately, silencing him with your lips on yours. The peck was brief, yet carried over each and every thought you has for him.

"None of that. When has it ever been like you to talk like this?" You challenged, playfully cocking your head to the side. You dragged his hands down to your breasts, eliciting a faint twitch deep in his undergarments. "That's not the Firelord I married."

Phwump!

"...you're right," Zuko swallowed, regaining a semblance of his confidence back after gently pushing you onto your back. Just about, though — because he was still having difficulty finding it within himself to look into your eyes even whilst looming over you. Once he did, though, he was a goner.

Your husband scanned your entire form, cursing himself for what a fool he had been, missing out on countless nights on getting to know you, your body. "A fool indeed," you echoed, smiling once Zuko realised he had spoken allowed.

"Stop making fun of me," he rumbled, lowering his head to nip at your throat. "I'm not here to be turned into the butt of your jokes."

"You know I'll— mmh, do it regardless," you cooed breathily. Not once did Zuko pull back, even when you angled your head to the side to give you easier access.

His lips simply followed the movement with growing confidence — until he sank onto his knees, face buried between your quivering thighs.

[persephore]

consummate — fire-lord zuko ⤥

synopsis it’s been years since life had been rebuilt after ozai’s reign of tyranny. the fire nation — the entire world — is walking the fragile line of peace. to the council, it’s the perfect time for the firelord to marry a commoner woman of the water tribe. to zuko, its an even better time to get the gaang back together.

pairing firelord zuko x reader - insert

cw 3.5k, arranged marriage, implied kataang, aang is written as a wise ray of sunshine, sokka is a sarcastic womanizer, toph beifong is herself, katara is slightly stubborn, canon universe, wedding night, falling in love, fluff and smut, subtle angst, porn with feelings and plot, cunnilingus, married sex, throne sex, penis in vagina sex, no use of y/n for afab!reader, accidental branding, briefly mentioned breeding kink, creampie, short and sweet

link available on ao3

a/n haven’t seen the full movie yet so this is based off the many clips i’ve seen. im ngl, i know the whole storyline from tiktok so at this point i basically have seen the whole movie. anyway, happy reading!

To Aang, Toph, Katara, and Sokka

Becoming the Fire-Lord has normalized stress and many restless nights. Despite it all, I cannot forget the joy we shared. Before we parted ways there was a promise that if we ever needed each other we would come calling. This is my call. I’m getting married tomorrow night. Two months ago, the council decided the responsibility of ruling would be made a bit lighter with a wife by my side to care for. I haven’t met her yet. Never spoken to her. I kept putting it off, thinking they would cancel the ordeal on their own judgment, but now there’s only one more sunrise before the big day. I wish for advice as I also wish to see you all again even more. I missed you.

- signed, Fire-Lord Zuko

Zuko’s fingers brushed the makeup barely concealing his scar.

“What if she thinks my face is hideous?”

“Oh, please,” Toph scoffed, seated on the floor of his private chamber, “As if any woman on earth has ever called you ugly before.”

“I never thought you’d still be capable of seeming so insecure,” Katara chuckled lightly, “Being nervous is a good sign at the start of a relationship.”

“They’re both right.” Aang offered a smile and two thumbs up of encouragement. One of his arms was loosely wrapped around Katara’s waist. “You’re overthinking this, Zuko. The woman’s most likely scared of being in an arranged marriage too. Worried it will forcefully tie her to some mean, arrogant tyrant.”

Sokka leaned against the doorframe. “In that case she would hate the old you. Unless she likes mean, arrogant tyrants. Then you’re screwed regardless.”

Three other individuals in the room glared at Sokka while Zuko swallowed hard and glanced at his reflection in the mirror one last time.

Royal robes had been neatly cleaned and pressed in preparation for the wedding. Recently, long dark hair had grown even longer. Excluding the scar his skin was unblemished. Fire-Lord Zuko looked far healthier now that stress wasn’t too much of a constant in his life anymore. The Fire Nation was at peace, other elemental civilizations equally so. This timing was perfect to prove he wouldn’t be as aggressive as his predecessor. To marry a bender provided by the water tribe and birth a heir.

All according to the council, of course.

Still, he buried his face in his hands.

“At the end of the night I’m expected to consummate the marriage…”

Sokka fanned his hand with mock nonchalance. “That should be the easiest part. I mean, we’re all adults. We already know what part goes in where —“

Both Aang and Katara coughed, faces flushed bright red.

“What if she doesn’t want to?” Zuko groaned. His forehead collided with wood. “What if the idea scares her off or makes her think I’m some kind of sick bastard? A royal marriage remains unconfirmed unless the wedding night is spent together.”

“Here’s some real advice, lie to the council. Pretend like something happened even if it didn’t. Old geezers who haven’t gotten their rocks off in years wouldn’t be able to decipher a lie like that.”

Toph’s words made Zuko inhale deeply, exhaling twice as hard in an effort to calm his nerves. The woman was right. Besides, there wouldn’t be any worry of witnesses accusing him of deceit.

“Or are you just nervous because you haven’t been with a woman in a while?”

Zuko’s teeth gritted at Sokka’s teasing. “It hasn’t been that long.”

Toph snorted a laugh. “Oh yeah? How long has it been?”

No answer was given, not when Zuko came to the realization that it had been a while. It wasn’t intentional, nor something he knowingly kept track of.

“Told ya.” Sokka gloated at the silence. “It’s expected for a Fire-Lord to be pent-up — you know, ruling his kingdom and all…”

Katara rolled her eyes. “As if you’re drowning in women.”

Sokka smirked. “Duh, I am. That’s my specialty.”

“Anyway,” Aang recentered the conversation, “Everything will be fine. When we first met, all of us had our own negative perceptions. Now we’re all here to support you because you proved us wrong. If you did it once it could definitely be done again.”

“Correctamundo,” Sokka firmly nodded, placing a hand on his hip. “Right now your biggest worry should be if your bride is actually super gross-looking.”

“That shouldn’t matter, Sokka.” Katara sighed. “I doubt it. Water tribe women are always beautiful.”

Aang hadn’t taken his gaze off Katara as he mumbled, sheepishly massaging his neck.

“Agreed.”

“Appearance hasn’t crossed my mind. Who am I to judge something like that?” Zuko stood from his seat at the vanity. Heated hands straightened his black and red garments before his eyes settled on each of his childhood friends. His tense expression softened. “I appreciate you all finding time to be here. Truly.”

Katara gave a gentle smile. “Whenever you need us we’ll find time for you. Always.”

Two servants entered the room with their heads bowed low, announcing synchronously once permission was granted.

“Fire-Lord Zuko, your bride has arrived from the Northern Water Tribe.”

Fireworks exploded under a vast starry sky. The festival of steam had commenced, joining water and fire.

The entire time, Zuko hadn’t realized he was staring.

Dancers, music, lights… all were a blur. None could captivate him as his wife had. Feeling him watch you, you glanced in his direction. The small motion made Zuko mend his posture and offer an awkward closed-lipped smile, but his gaze refused to depart from the soft looking skin of your lips, your eyes glowing above a trail of embers. A word hadn’t even uttered through your lips intended for him yet.

Man, how long has he been this pent-up without realizing?

Perhaps Sokka was right.

Zuko made a silent oath to never utter those words out loud.

The wedding ceremony had went smoothly.

There was no doubt it would since there was no need for the husband and bride to interact with each other beforehand. Besides making eye contact a few times, each remained within respective palanquins while a highly-ranked councilman announced the newfound duties of an emerging royal family.

Much later into the night both you and Zuko were still seated separately, only allowing him to admire you from afar. The robes on your body were elegant, silver and blue fabrics complimenting the power coursing through your veins. A corset squeezed ribs so much Zuko could see your small gasps for breath. Each time you shimmered in firelight when a dancer passed made the Fire-Lord even more mesmerized.

There was a new ring on your finger, a fire nation crown on your head…

A weight heavy on your skull.

All of this — the dress, the jewels, the endless fuss — it wasn’t intended for the pleasure of love. Today was dedicated to the survivors traumatized by a meaningless war, worried that a minor incident would tip the scale. To the mothers and fathers fearing their children will be kidnapped and forced to fight again, losing their lives for a selfish tyrant. That stripped this marriage of any emotional meaning and instead provided a logical one. And you — since childhood you had wanted to escape the Northern Water Tribe and its society favored toward men.

Now, what should have been an opportunity at freedom felt more like a cage.

Your fingers clenched the fabric of your dress. You leaned over to a fire nation servant, whispering words Zuko couldn’t hear.

Then, you climbed off the palanquin held on the shoulders of water tribe maidservants.

Zuko watched you saunter into the palace before quickly hustling to follow you, ignoring a councilman who had asked where he could be running off to.

Through long corridors, you stepped onto a balcony, leaned against a railing as you gazed up at the moon. A source begging to be used. It couldn’t be. Not when all that surround you was aggressively overpowering fire.

Zuko stepped onto the balcony behind you, quietly offering his first words in hours.

“May I ask what’s on your mind?”

A response came just as gentle.

“Needed some air. The steam was too much to handle. Too forceful.”

Zuko knew you meant that more in a figurative sense than literal.

“I assume the centuries of war imposed by the fire nation has made you reluctant of this marriage…”

“Reluctant isn’t quite the term I would use.” For a water tribe commoner, your tone was surprisingly warm and steady. “I prefer to drift with the flow of life. If it has brought me to be with you, I will accept it.”

Zuko leaned his forearms on the railing of the balcony; gazed down at the people still singing, dancing, drinking. A mix of water-benders and fire-benders lingered in the crowd, fewer earth-benders cheering along. All interacting with one another.

“My mother was forced to marry my father. She lived a facade of contentment, but cracks always showed the truth,” he buried reemerging thoughts of resentment to instead whisper, “I refuse to become like him.”

The Fire-Lord hesitantly pulled a small box into the night air. One that had been hidden within his robes the entire evening as he struggled to hide the slight tremble of his fingertips. Zuko watched you open it with awe, your eyes brimming with gratitude at the sight of a traditional betrothal choker inside. Instead of being water tribe colors, the collar was black while the pendant itself was blue with fiery red detailings.

“This is beautiful,“ you whispered with honesty, “Unique.”

“It was inspired by one I had seen before. May I put it on you?”

As soon as you nodded Zuko shifted behind you.

Gentle hands slowly tugged blue attire lower. A chilly breeze licked the base of your neck. You could feel him close. Even through clothes his body was warm, strong. His presence created a heat of its own. The adornment raised to wrap tight around your neck.

When Zuko spoke, his sultry breath caressed your ear like silk.

“I was scarred due to my father’s relentless greed for power. The fire nation has hurt me too. I’ve worked tirelessly to fix the consequences.”

“Then I suppose a mark like this isn’t new to you?” A silver sleeve was pulled back to display a burn on the otherwise smooth skin of your arm. “What happened to all the fire nation soldiers arrogant enough to burn children for fun? Do they still live their lives worry free? Is the Fire-Lord so forgiving?”

Zuko tenderly raised your arm to his lips where he placed a soft kiss on the scar.

“I assure you that they’ve been dealt with. A long time ago. Thoroughly.”

“Well the trauma still remains.” Your back turned to him. “I apologize for my insolence, my lord.”

Strong hands held your waist with a benign yet commanding strength, stopping you from drifting away. “There’s no need to call me that. You’re my wife. It sounds a little —“ he cleared his throat, faint redness creeping up his cheeks “— suggestive when my title comes from your lips.”

Your head tilted to the side. A teasing grin crawled onto your face. “Is that how you prefer it, my lord?”

“When a voice such as yours says it, yes.”

You stiffened upon the realization that his flirting had managed to draw a smile from you. After a moment of hesitation, you turned back around to face him. His eyes meet yours under the moonlight, a fountain of fire on the balcony making them glow golden.

“We can make this work,” you conceded with a sigh. “I just want freedom, is all. To feel like my own person, not some random water-bending commoner forced to marry the ruler of the fire nation.”

“Everything you want will be yours. I promise.”

There was a glossy look in his eyes, wet and wanting. A hunger that had been restrained. He inched closer, providing all the time you would need to pull away.

But, you didn’t.

As soon as his lips met yours, his body relaxed for the first time of the night, stress melting beneath your hands braced his chest. All the while, his touch never stopped wandering. Your neck. Your arms. Dragging along your spine until your back subconsciously arched.

A breathless laugh escaped you. “Why are you so eager? We have all night.”

“You’re comfortable spending the night with me? You’re not scared or disgusted or…”

He trailed off at the feeling of your fingertips grazing slowly down his body, ceasing dangerously low on the fabric concealing his v-line.

“We still have a marriage to consummate.”

“You knew about that…?”

“I was discomforted at the thought of sleeping with a man the same night I’d meet him. But…” your words became even quieter, but they were certain, “I think… now that I’m aware of the honor you prioritize… I’m okay with this. More than okay.”

Zuko no longer held onto restraint as he fumbled to steer you toward his private chamber. When your bodies stumbled into the corridor, Toph, Sokka, Aang, and Katara were straining to hear if things were going smoothly with the newlyweds who had disappeared from their celebration. You halted at the sight of a peculiar man — Sokka — straightening when he realized he’d been caught with his ear against the door.

A long heated kiss was planted to your cheek while you spoke with a smile. “I was informed by some servants earlier that my husband’s friends will all spend the next three days here. That he treasured you all above anything else. I hope we’ll become equally as close during that time.”

“Are you trying to suck her face off? That’s not how you’re supposed to kiss —“

Katara slammed a hand over her brother’s mouth to muffle the heckling. “I’m sure we will. Enjoy your night. Looks like he already is.”

Zuko paused long enough to toss your weight onto his shoulder like a sack of rice. You let out a small noise of surprise while he nodded firmly to his group of friends.

“If you need anything do not hesitate to call for a servant. We will see all of you at breakfast.”

Without waiting for a response, Zuko carried you towards the entryway of the throne room, hurriedly stating that it was closest. Aang laughed when the threshold shut with a loud slam.

“Looks like he was worried for nothing.”

“Who’s next to get married in the group? Never would’ve expected him to be first.” Toph sighed, “I haven’t met anyone strong enough to outmatch me yet.”

Sokka shrugged. “Meh, I’m having to much fun playing around.”

Both Toph and Sokka swiveled to face Aang and Katara who both nervously twitched. Heavy stares were desperately avoided.

In the grand room, Zuko murmured against your mouth. His muscled chest cornered yours against his throne. You had already pulled his clothing from him down to just his underwear, delighting in the way firelight from candles outlined his blatant strength. “Tomorrow, I will dedicate my time to learning more of you. Ways a devoted husband should.” His hands caressed along your sides, fiddled with buttons.

There was a teasing look on your face when you pulled the pin that declared him Fire-Lord off his head, long hair releasing from its hold.

You grabbed him close. Soft lips grazed his earlobe.

“I’m aware of another way a husband and a wife should get to know each other.”

Zuko seated you on his throne then lowered to his knees, inching the fabric of your dress from your thighs as amber-colored eyes gazed up into yours.

“Of course, my love.”

Wet. It was all so wet.

Zuko’s saliva drooled over your entrance, tongue sliding over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His mouth latched onto your pussy hot and drenched. Amber eyes looked lost, unfocused, as if the intoxicating passion drawing whines from you was drowning him along with. The sight of the Fire-Lord quivering, kneeled in front of his throne while he serviced you between your thighs… The man was famished. His painfully hard cock stood upright through a tight confinement of fabric.

Closed eyes, furrowed brows, the sweet juices leaking from your cunt glossed his lips.

Messy, so unbelievably maddening.

You whimpered as legs clenched against his head.

“My lord…”

Frantically, your clothes were torn away with a loud rip. Broad fingers slid your panties to the side as boxers were haphazardly shoved down his thighs.

“Give your first order as queen, my love.” His hands softly caressed the flesh of your hips while he kissed your collarbone. “Declare what you desire of me.”

“I … I order you to make love to me.”

"From this moment forward, whatever you wish is my command.”

The delicate moan that echoed the throne room nearly made him cum on the spot when the head breached. Barely. Deliciously tight was the hole that anchored him within.

"I’m yours, my lady, all of me," In an attempt to soothe you, warming fingers massaged your waist in circles. There was a possessed look in his eyes when you watched the pleasure shown on his face. Parted lips, groans scraping from the depths of his throat. A thumb circled your quivering clit. "That’s it…”

Surprised, a broken-sounding moan left your lips when he began to thrust hard without him being fully inside yet.

Zuko was never a patient man.

Immensely infatuated with you? Yes.

Careful to remain merciful when necessary? Yes.

But patient wasn't a descriptor even his childhood friends would use for him.

Raw, like an untamed animal, each thrust shoved him deeper until your pussy was stretched to the fullest, his balls slapping your ass.

Zuko’s jerky movements melted your thoughts when his mouth attached to your neck and began to suck and bite, strong hands holding your knees over his shoulders. He wasn’t too vocal — small groans and whines doing more than enough to turn you on even more — but you were. How could you stay quiet when his cock bulled through your walls with the heat of a madman, the thumb once at your thigh returning to your clit as needy moans shifted an octave higher?

Uncontrolled, filthy taunts were whispered against your ear.

“Look at you taking me so well…”

“I can still taste your pussy on my tongue…”

“You’re squeezing me, my love, my wife… so wet…”

And when you clamped on him with a sweet cry, he groaned, forcing his length with a squelch.

"So good..." his voice fractured when your pussy squeezed tighter. "Ready to let go for me? I can feel it."

It was true. You were close, oh so close. Any sense of control slipped through your grasp. Your legs jolted with every driving thrust, wetness leaking onto the seat beneath you.

“I — I can’t…”

"Yes you can. Bless me with the expression my queen makes when she loses control. I — I’m here. I’m right here with you."

Zuko talked through your moment of pure bliss, guiding with soft whispers of worship for your body, your beauty. He begged you to cum as if it would be the last time he ever got the chance to feel you. His heat enticed. His weight cemented you to his throne. In a matter of seconds the coil snapped free. A wave of pleasure washed over you — brutal, making your head tilt back.

Your hands moved in a hurry to stifle your loud moans. They were immediately yanked away, pinned to his heaving chest.

“Don’t hide. Everyone in the palace will know you’re mine.”

His sudden possessiveness was one that couldn’t be controlled.

It strengthened at the feeling of his cock beginning to throb. The urge to stuff you filled his mind till he was nearly delirious.

“Oh god …”

One final slam lodged him deep with a low groan. Burning hands fisted the armrests of his throne, then grasped you tight when his dick pulsed, trembles shivering through his thighs.

A kiss poured longing into you until you were aching, yearning. His cock swelled and erupted, filling your already sloppy hole with a mess of cum. The entire time, Zuko whined and shook, feeling your pussy convulse to beckon more and more of his load. Your desperate mewls of his name only made him feel even dizzier, his eyes shutting tight. Curses rolled from him like a mantra. A small whisper mentioned how much he craved to see your stomach full with his child.

Scratches trailed down his chest red-stained like claw marks.

By time Zuko regained his senses the realization of how heated his body had become dawned.

Smoke wafted from the hand placed on your hip. The scorch caused you to flinch at the burn accidentally left behind as the Fire-Lord hurriedly flung himself to the ground. Zuko tensed. The scar was shaped like a disfigured handprint. If anyone saw it the first rightful assumption would be he branded you intentionally or assaulted you out of anger.

Fingertips mindlessly grazed his own scar. Breaths came faster out of panic.

“Sorry, I — sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I usually have better control —“

“I like it,” you murmured tiredly, caressing the mark, “If the council ever questions our marriage, I will show them this with pride.”

The genuine contentment on your face was everything needed to quell his racing heart.

[tellatoast]

…it’s real hot in here😮‍💨😮‍💨

[persephore]

consummate — fire-lord zuko ⤥

synopsis it’s been years since life had been rebuilt after ozai’s reign of tyranny. the fire nation — the entire world — is walking the fragile line of peace. to the council, it’s the perfect time for the firelord to marry a commoner woman of the water tribe. to zuko, its an even better time to get the gaang back together.

pairing firelord zuko x reader - insert

cw 3.5k, arranged marriage, implied kataang, aang is written as a wise ray of sunshine, sokka is a sarcastic womanizer, toph beifong is herself, katara is slightly stubborn, canon universe, wedding night, falling in love, fluff and smut, subtle angst, porn with feelings and plot, cunnilingus, married sex, throne sex, penis in vagina sex, no use of y/n for afab!reader, accidental branding, briefly mentioned breeding kink, creampie, short and sweet

link available on ao3

a/n haven’t seen the full movie yet so this is based off the many clips i’ve seen. im ngl, i know the whole storyline from tiktok so at this point i basically have seen the whole movie. anyway, happy reading!

To Aang, Toph, Katara, and Sokka

Becoming the Fire-Lord has normalized stress and many restless nights. Despite it all, I cannot forget the joy we shared. Before we parted ways there was a promise that if we ever needed each other we would come calling. This is my call. I’m getting married tomorrow night. Two months ago, the council decided the responsibility of ruling would be made a bit lighter with a wife by my side to care for. I haven’t met her yet. Never spoken to her. I kept putting it off, thinking they would cancel the ordeal on their own judgment, but now there’s only one more sunrise before the big day. I wish for advice as I also wish to see you all again even more. I missed you.

- signed, Fire-Lord Zuko

Zuko’s fingers brushed the makeup barely concealing his scar.

“What if she thinks my face is hideous?”

“Oh, please,” Toph scoffed, seated on the floor of his private chamber, “As if any woman on earth has ever called you ugly before.”

“I never thought you’d still be capable of seeming so insecure,” Katara chuckled lightly, “Being nervous is a good sign at the start of a relationship.”

“They’re both right.” Aang offered a smile and two thumbs up of encouragement. One of his arms was loosely wrapped around Katara’s waist. “You’re overthinking this, Zuko. The woman’s most likely scared of being in an arranged marriage too. Worried it will forcefully tie her to some mean, arrogant tyrant.”

Sokka leaned against the doorframe. “In that case she would hate the old you. Unless she likes mean, arrogant tyrants. Then you’re screwed regardless.”

Three other individuals in the room glared at Sokka while Zuko swallowed hard and glanced at his reflection in the mirror one last time.

Royal robes had been neatly cleaned and pressed in preparation for the wedding. Recently, long dark hair had grown even longer. Excluding the scar his skin was unblemished. Fire-Lord Zuko looked far healthier now that stress wasn’t too much of a constant in his life anymore. The Fire Nation was at peace, other elemental civilizations equally so. This timing was perfect to prove he wouldn’t be as aggressive as his predecessor. To marry a bender provided by the water tribe and birth a heir.

All according to the council, of course.

Still, he buried his face in his hands.

“At the end of the night I’m expected to consummate the marriage…”

Sokka fanned his hand with mock nonchalance. “That should be the easiest part. I mean, we’re all adults. We already know what part goes in where —“

Both Aang and Katara coughed, faces flushed bright red.

“What if she doesn’t want to?” Zuko groaned. His forehead collided with wood. “What if the idea scares her off or makes her think I’m some kind of sick bastard? A royal marriage remains unconfirmed unless the wedding night is spent together.”

“Here’s some real advice, lie to the council. Pretend like something happened even if it didn’t. Old geezers who haven’t gotten their rocks off in years wouldn’t be able to decipher a lie like that.”

Toph’s words made Zuko inhale deeply, exhaling twice as hard in an effort to calm his nerves. The woman was right. Besides, there wouldn’t be any worry of witnesses accusing him of deceit.

“Or are you just nervous because you haven’t been with a woman in a while?”

Zuko’s teeth gritted at Sokka’s teasing. “It hasn’t been that long.”

Toph snorted a laugh. “Oh yeah? How long has it been?”

No answer was given, not when Zuko came to the realization that it had been a while. It wasn’t intentional, nor something he knowingly kept track of.

“Told ya.” Sokka gloated at the silence. “It’s expected for a Fire-Lord to be pent-up — you know, ruling his kingdom and all…”

Katara rolled her eyes. “As if you’re drowning in women.”

Sokka smirked. “Duh, I am. That’s my specialty.”

“Anyway,” Aang recentered the conversation, “Everything will be fine. When we first met, all of us had our own negative perceptions. Now we’re all here to support you because you proved us wrong. If you did it once it could definitely be done again.”

“Correctamundo,” Sokka firmly nodded, placing a hand on his hip. “Right now your biggest worry should be if your bride is actually super gross-looking.”

“That shouldn’t matter, Sokka.” Katara sighed. “I doubt it. Water tribe women are always beautiful.”

Aang hadn’t taken his gaze off Katara as he mumbled, sheepishly massaging his neck.

“Agreed.”

“Appearance hasn’t crossed my mind. Who am I to judge something like that?” Zuko stood from his seat at the vanity. Heated hands straightened his black and red garments before his eyes settled on each of his childhood friends. His tense expression softened. “I appreciate you all finding time to be here. Truly.”

Katara gave a gentle smile. “Whenever you need us we’ll find time for you. Always.”

Two servants entered the room with their heads bowed low, announcing synchronously once permission was granted.

“Fire-Lord Zuko, your bride has arrived from the Northern Water Tribe.”

Fireworks exploded under a vast starry sky. The festival of steam had commenced, joining water and fire.

The entire time, Zuko hadn’t realized he was staring.

Dancers, music, lights… all were a blur. None could captivate him as his wife had. Feeling him watch you, you glanced in his direction. The small motion made Zuko mend his posture and offer an awkward closed-lipped smile, but his gaze refused to depart from the soft looking skin of your lips, your eyes glowing above a trail of embers. A word hadn’t even uttered through your lips intended for him yet.

Man, how long has he been this pent-up without realizing?

Perhaps Sokka was right.

Zuko made a silent oath to never utter those words out loud.

The wedding ceremony had went smoothly.

There was no doubt it would since there was no need for the husband and bride to interact with each other beforehand. Besides making eye contact a few times, each remained within respective palanquins while a highly-ranked councilman announced the newfound duties of an emerging royal family.

Much later into the night both you and Zuko were still seated separately, only allowing him to admire you from afar. The robes on your body were elegant, silver and blue fabrics complimenting the power coursing through your veins. A corset squeezed ribs so much Zuko could see your small gasps for breath. Each time you shimmered in firelight when a dancer passed made the Fire-Lord even more mesmerized.

There was a new ring on your finger, a fire nation crown on your head…

A weight heavy on your skull.

All of this — the dress, the jewels, the endless fuss — it wasn’t intended for the pleasure of love. Today was dedicated to the survivors traumatized by a meaningless war, worried that a minor incident would tip the scale. To the mothers and fathers fearing their children will be kidnapped and forced to fight again, losing their lives for a selfish tyrant. That stripped this marriage of any emotional meaning and instead provided a logical one. And you — since childhood you had wanted to escape the Northern Water Tribe and its society favored toward men.

Now, what should have been an opportunity at freedom felt more like a cage.

Your fingers clenched the fabric of your dress. You leaned over to a fire nation servant, whispering words Zuko couldn’t hear.

Then, you climbed off the palanquin held on the shoulders of water tribe maidservants.

Zuko watched you saunter into the palace before quickly hustling to follow you, ignoring a councilman who had asked where he could be running off to.

Through long corridors, you stepped onto a balcony, leaned against a railing as you gazed up at the moon. A source begging to be used. It couldn’t be. Not when all that surround you was aggressively overpowering fire.

Zuko stepped onto the balcony behind you, quietly offering his first words in hours.

“May I ask what’s on your mind?”

A response came just as gentle.

“Needed some air. The steam was too much to handle. Too forceful.”

Zuko knew you meant that more in a figurative sense than literal.

“I assume the centuries of war imposed by the fire nation has made you reluctant of this marriage…”

“Reluctant isn’t quite the term I would use.” For a water tribe commoner, your tone was surprisingly warm and steady. “I prefer to drift with the flow of life. If it has brought me to be with you, I will accept it.”

Zuko leaned his forearms on the railing of the balcony; gazed down at the people still singing, dancing, drinking. A mix of water-benders and fire-benders lingered in the crowd, fewer earth-benders cheering along. All interacting with one another.

“My mother was forced to marry my father. She lived a facade of contentment, but cracks always showed the truth,” he buried reemerging thoughts of resentment to instead whisper, “I refuse to become like him.”

The Fire-Lord hesitantly pulled a small box into the night air. One that had been hidden within his robes the entire evening as he struggled to hide the slight tremble of his fingertips. Zuko watched you open it with awe, your eyes brimming with gratitude at the sight of a traditional betrothal choker inside. Instead of being water tribe colors, the collar was black while the pendant itself was blue with fiery red detailings.

“This is beautiful,“ you whispered with honesty, “Unique.”

“It was inspired by one I had seen before. May I put it on you?”

As soon as you nodded Zuko shifted behind you.

Gentle hands slowly tugged blue attire lower. A chilly breeze licked the base of your neck. You could feel him close. Even through clothes his body was warm, strong. His presence created a heat of its own. The adornment raised to wrap tight around your neck.

When Zuko spoke, his sultry breath caressed your ear like silk.

“I was scarred due to my father’s relentless greed for power. The fire nation has hurt me too. I’ve worked tirelessly to fix the consequences.”

“Then I suppose a mark like this isn’t new to you?” A silver sleeve was pulled back to display a burn on the otherwise smooth skin of your arm. “What happened to all the fire nation soldiers arrogant enough to burn children for fun? Do they still live their lives worry free? Is the Fire-Lord so forgiving?”

Zuko tenderly raised your arm to his lips where he placed a soft kiss on the scar.

“I assure you that they’ve been dealt with. A long time ago. Thoroughly.”

“Well the trauma still remains.” Your back turned to him. “I apologize for my insolence, my lord.”

Strong hands held your waist with a benign yet commanding strength, stopping you from drifting away. “There’s no need to call me that. You’re my wife. It sounds a little —“ he cleared his throat, faint redness creeping up his cheeks “— suggestive when my title comes from your lips.”

Your head tilted to the side. A teasing grin crawled onto your face. “Is that how you prefer it, my lord?”

“When a voice such as yours says it, yes.”

You stiffened upon the realization that his flirting had managed to draw a smile from you. After a moment of hesitation, you turned back around to face him. His eyes meet yours under the moonlight, a fountain of fire on the balcony making them glow golden.

“We can make this work,” you conceded with a sigh. “I just want freedom, is all. To feel like my own person, not some random water-bending commoner forced to marry the ruler of the fire nation.”

“Everything you want will be yours. I promise.”

There was a glossy look in his eyes, wet and wanting. A hunger that had been restrained. He inched closer, providing all the time you would need to pull away.

But, you didn’t.

As soon as his lips met yours, his body relaxed for the first time of the night, stress melting beneath your hands braced his chest. All the while, his touch never stopped wandering. Your neck. Your arms. Dragging along your spine until your back subconsciously arched.

A breathless laugh escaped you. “Why are you so eager? We have all night.”

“You’re comfortable spending the night with me? You’re not scared or disgusted or…”

He trailed off at the feeling of your fingertips grazing slowly down his body, ceasing dangerously low on the fabric concealing his v-line.

“We still have a marriage to consummate.”

“You knew about that…?”

“I was discomforted at the thought of sleeping with a man the same night I’d meet him. But…” your words became even quieter, but they were certain, “I think… now that I’m aware of the honor you prioritize… I’m okay with this. More than okay.”

Zuko no longer held onto restraint as he fumbled to steer you toward his private chamber. When your bodies stumbled into the corridor, Toph, Sokka, Aang, and Katara were straining to hear if things were going smoothly with the newlyweds who had disappeared from their celebration. You halted at the sight of a peculiar man — Sokka — straightening when he realized he’d been caught with his ear against the door.

A long heated kiss was planted to your cheek while you spoke with a smile. “I was informed by some servants earlier that my husband’s friends will all spend the next three days here. That he treasured you all above anything else. I hope we’ll become equally as close during that time.”

“Are you trying to suck her face off? That’s not how you’re supposed to kiss —“

Katara slammed a hand over her brother’s mouth to muffle the heckling. “I’m sure we will. Enjoy your night. Looks like he already is.”

Zuko paused long enough to toss your weight onto his shoulder like a sack of rice. You let out a small noise of surprise while he nodded firmly to his group of friends.

“If you need anything do not hesitate to call for a servant. We will see all of you at breakfast.”

Without waiting for a response, Zuko carried you towards the entryway of the throne room, hurriedly stating that it was closest. Aang laughed when the threshold shut with a loud slam.

“Looks like he was worried for nothing.”

“Who’s next to get married in the group? Never would’ve expected him to be first.” Toph sighed, “I haven’t met anyone strong enough to outmatch me yet.”

Sokka shrugged. “Meh, I’m having to much fun playing around.”

Both Toph and Sokka swiveled to face Aang and Katara who both nervously twitched. Heavy stares were desperately avoided.

In the grand room, Zuko murmured against your mouth. His muscled chest cornered yours against his throne. You had already pulled his clothing from him down to just his underwear, delighting in the way firelight from candles outlined his blatant strength. “Tomorrow, I will dedicate my time to learning more of you. Ways a devoted husband should.” His hands caressed along your sides, fiddled with buttons.

There was a teasing look on your face when you pulled the pin that declared him Fire-Lord off his head, long hair releasing from its hold.

You grabbed him close. Soft lips grazed his earlobe.

“I’m aware of another way a husband and a wife should get to know each other.”

Zuko seated you on his throne then lowered to his knees, inching the fabric of your dress from your thighs as amber-colored eyes gazed up into yours.

“Of course, my love.”

Wet. It was all so wet.

Zuko’s saliva drooled over your entrance, tongue sliding over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His mouth latched onto your pussy hot and drenched. Amber eyes looked lost, unfocused, as if the intoxicating passion drawing whines from you was drowning him along with. The sight of the Fire-Lord quivering, kneeled in front of his throne while he serviced you between your thighs… The man was famished. His painfully hard cock stood upright through a tight confinement of fabric.

Closed eyes, furrowed brows, the sweet juices leaking from your cunt glossed his lips.

Messy, so unbelievably maddening.

You whimpered as legs clenched against his head.

“My lord…”

Frantically, your clothes were torn away with a loud rip. Broad fingers slid your panties to the side as boxers were haphazardly shoved down his thighs.

“Give your first order as queen, my love.” His hands softly caressed the flesh of your hips while he kissed your collarbone. “Declare what you desire of me.”

“I … I order you to make love to me.”

"From this moment forward, whatever you wish is my command.”

The delicate moan that echoed the throne room nearly made him cum on the spot when the head breached. Barely. Deliciously tight was the hole that anchored him within.

"I’m yours, my lady, all of me," In an attempt to soothe you, warming fingers massaged your waist in circles. There was a possessed look in his eyes when you watched the pleasure shown on his face. Parted lips, groans scraping from the depths of his throat. A thumb circled your quivering clit. "That’s it…”

Surprised, a broken-sounding moan left your lips when he began to thrust hard without him being fully inside yet.

Zuko was never a patient man.

Immensely infatuated with you? Yes.

Careful to remain merciful when necessary? Yes.

But patient wasn't a descriptor even his childhood friends would use for him.

Raw, like an untamed animal, each thrust shoved him deeper until your pussy was stretched to the fullest, his balls slapping your ass.

Zuko’s jerky movements melted your thoughts when his mouth attached to your neck and began to suck and bite, strong hands holding your knees over his shoulders. He wasn’t too vocal — small groans and whines doing more than enough to turn you on even more — but you were. How could you stay quiet when his cock bulled through your walls with the heat of a madman, the thumb once at your thigh returning to your clit as needy moans shifted an octave higher?

Uncontrolled, filthy taunts were whispered against your ear.

“Look at you taking me so well…”

“I can still taste your pussy on my tongue…”

“You’re squeezing me, my love, my wife… so wet…”

And when you clamped on him with a sweet cry, he groaned, forcing his length with a squelch.

"So good..." his voice fractured when your pussy squeezed tighter. "Ready to let go for me? I can feel it."

It was true. You were close, oh so close. Any sense of control slipped through your grasp. Your legs jolted with every driving thrust, wetness leaking onto the seat beneath you.

“I — I can’t…”

"Yes you can. Bless me with the expression my queen makes when she loses control. I — I’m here. I’m right here with you."

Zuko talked through your moment of pure bliss, guiding with soft whispers of worship for your body, your beauty. He begged you to cum as if it would be the last time he ever got the chance to feel you. His heat enticed. His weight cemented you to his throne. In a matter of seconds the coil snapped free. A wave of pleasure washed over you — brutal, making your head tilt back.

Your hands moved in a hurry to stifle your loud moans. They were immediately yanked away, pinned to his heaving chest.

“Don’t hide. Everyone in the palace will know you’re mine.”

His sudden possessiveness was one that couldn’t be controlled.

It strengthened at the feeling of his cock beginning to throb. The urge to stuff you filled his mind till he was nearly delirious.

“Oh god …”

One final slam lodged him deep with a low groan. Burning hands fisted the armrests of his throne, then grasped you tight when his dick pulsed, trembles shivering through his thighs.

A kiss poured longing into you until you were aching, yearning. His cock swelled and erupted, filling your already sloppy hole with a mess of cum. The entire time, Zuko whined and shook, feeling your pussy convulse to beckon more and more of his load. Your desperate mewls of his name only made him feel even dizzier, his eyes shutting tight. Curses rolled from him like a mantra. A small whisper mentioned how much he craved to see your stomach full with his child.

Scratches trailed down his chest red-stained like claw marks.

By time Zuko regained his senses the realization of how heated his body had become dawned.

Smoke wafted from the hand placed on your hip. The scorch caused you to flinch at the burn accidentally left behind as the Fire-Lord hurriedly flung himself to the ground. Zuko tensed. The scar was shaped like a disfigured handprint. If anyone saw it the first rightful assumption would be he branded you intentionally or assaulted you out of anger.

Fingertips mindlessly grazed his own scar. Breaths came faster out of panic.

“Sorry, I — sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I usually have better control —“

“I like it,” you murmured tiredly, caressing the mark, “If the council ever questions our marriage, I will show them this with pride.”

The genuine contentment on your face was everything needed to quell his racing heart.

[tellatoast]

…it’s real hot in here😮‍💨😮‍💨

[mights-quills]

everybody wants to read smut, no one wants to read slow burn, plot heavy fics

[arfemiz]

SCARRED

fire lord! zuko x wife!reader | explicit smut, bathing sex, body worship and insecurity, MDNI 18+

masterlist . . . . . ↷

"...again?" the pillow muffled ZUKO'S groan as he rolled onto his back, eyeing the empty space beside him. the sheets were still warm from where you had been moments ago... vanishing into the bathing chamber like smoke whenever his hands wandered too close.

moonlight caught his bare shoulders tense as he sat up. "you can't keep avoiding me forever," he called toward the shut door. the answering silence prickled his skin.

Inside the bath chamber, you pressed damp palms to the mirror, your reflection distorted. three months since your little daughter's birth, and still your body felt like unfamiliar territory. fire nation nobility whispered about concubines with unmarked skin, while you...

a knock. "talk to me." zuko's voice, low on his side.

the door creaked open before you could answer, steam curling around zuko’s feet as he stepped inside. his hair, half - undone from sleep, fell across his scarred cheek. you turned away, gripping the bathing pool's edge, but not before catching the way his gaze dropped to your waist where the water's surface clung.

"you’re supposed to wait for permission to enter," you mumbled, sinking deeper into the scented water.

zuko didn’t dignify that with a reply. though, he crouched at the pool’s edge. "three years married, and suddenly you’re shy" his thumb seized a droplet rolling down your shoulder. "or is it that you think I’d mind these?" his touch grazed the faint red marks along your hipbone... lighter than the lightning scars on his chest but just as permanent.

you flinched. "the fire sages say a ruler’s consort should..."

"...look like untouched porcelain... I know, I know," he finished weakly. "the same sages who called my face unfit for the throne?" he tapped your chin, forcing your gaze up to where his scar gleamed raw. "when have we ever cared for their opinion? why start now?"

you shook your head at god knows what. jasmine petals stuck to your damp collarbones as zuko shrugged out of his sleeping robe. it soon pooled at his feet. his chest was a battlefield of its own... old ridged burns interlaced with newer, pinker marks where your daughter's tiny nails had scratched him during late - night feedings.

"zuko, I..." your protest died as he soaked his body into the water, the heat making his muscles glisten.

when his knees hit the under water stone bench, zuko’s mouth found the spot beneath your ear. "be honest... which part of you thinks I’d ever stop wanting this." he cooed on damp skin, hands sliding down to grip your waist. "these hips?" a squeeze that sent water sloshing over the ledge. "this stomach?" palms skating lower, thumbs digging into the softness below your navel where your daughter had grown. "or..." his touch drowned under the waterline, testing your thighs with a passing touch of fingertips... "here?"

you gasped, hands flying to his wrists. "zuko, are you sure you don't want to wait..."

"this isn't about me," for grounding, you leanined your head against the wet tile behind you. "I've waited enough, three months, and I know you have to." his free hand squeezed your inner thigh, slow before just holding. "every night, watching you feed our daughter and pretending not to see how you wince when she latches." his fingers danced higher, avoiding where you ached most. "listening to you cry in here afterward like I wouldn’t burn the entire fire nation to the ground if it meant taking your pain."

your breath quickened. his thumb hovered just above your throbbing core, the heat of the bathwater nothing compared to the fire coiling low in your belly. "how low of you, to think I'd care about a few angry marks?" zuko whispered to your throat, a hand sliding up to cup your breast... heavy with a nurturing substance. "when every night I lie awake smelling the scent on your skin and imagining..." his fingers finally dipped between your folds, and your back laid off the tile, in an arch with a sudden gasp.

the sound echoed off walls, mixing with the drip of water from zuko's hair as he bent to lick a stripe of your neck. "we both know," fingers circling your clit, agonising and teasing, "the sages are yet to know how wet you get for me?" his teeth scraped your earlobe. "how even now, you're clenching around nothing?"

his fingers froze... a heartbeat... when your thighs tremble. It was that pause that undid you more than his touch... zuko’s breath hitched when your nails scored his shoulders... his thumb softened its circles to light strokes the instant your breathing grew ragged.

the tile was cold against your spine, but his mouth was scorching as it trailed lower... past your collarbones, over your breasts still tender from feeding your daughter hours before. he paused there, lips floating over a peaked nipple, eyes flicking up to watch you squirm. "tell me," he reassured, "if it’s too much."

you nodded violently as his tongue swirled tight around the sensitive bud, sucking gently until your hips jerked against his stomach. the whimper that escaped you sounded foreign in your own ears... desperate and keening... but zuko drank it in like a man starved. again with his free hand pacing down to grip your hip. "I got you,” he soothed to your chest as his fingers found your dripping core once more.

and gods, he did... every slow, torturous stroke of his fingers was purposeful to make you unravel by degrees. where the younger zuko, you married might have rushed, the man before you now worked with devastating patience, curling two fingers inside you just deep enough to tease before retreating to thumb lazy circles around your clit. "zuko..." you gasped.

"I know," he breathed, crooking his fingers just right. though open-mouthed kisses were placed to the stretch marks beneath your breasts, they gentled kisses whenever you hissed. his thumb never stopped its rhythm, even as he moved to cradle the back of your head with a hand. "perfect."

zuko suddenly took back his fingers... your whine at the loss tangled with the slick sound of his hand leaving you. he lifted you just enough to align himself with your dripping entrance.

"... easy," zuko asked of you. he plunged forward, the fire of him parting you slow. his forehead kissed yours as he waited, letting you adjust... always giving, even when his own thighs quivered with the effort of holding back. "is this too much..."

your nails bit into his shoulders, cutting him off. "...don't stop," you gritted, caving in to take him deeper, the stretch burning sweetly after so long apart. zuko's groan vibrated through your chest as he sank the rest of the way home, his hips greeting yours. for a second, neither of you moved... just breathed, foreheads touching.

you almost saw stars when he took it upon himself to begin moving. zuko’s breath was hot against your temple. he pulled nearly all the way out before pushing back in with the same pathetic pace. "still think I'd want anyone else?" he rumbled in the moment. he decided on deep, measured strokes that hit that spot inside you with exactly how you wanted, each resulting by the slap of water.

you couldn’t answer... couldn’t do anything but clutch at his shoulders as pleasure boiled tighter with every thrust of his hips. zuko was close in admiring your face, loving - lustful gaze.

his grip on your waist was the only float, keeping you from slipping beneath the surface. you forced your eyes open, your vision blurring with tears. zuko’s his scar flushed dark in your view. a water drip slid from his hairline down the bridge of his nose, slanting before falling onto your parted lips.

"... zuko,” you whimpered, the name broke as his thumb searched for your clit again, circles over and over. "I can’t... I’m going to..."

"I know," he smiled, so sweet second before his mouth closed onto your jaw, then neck. "let me see you."

you came undone with a cry, your body clamping around his as pleasure surged through you like wildfire. zuko’s rhythm faltered, his own release hitting him as he buried his face in your neck.

when he finally pulled back, his hands were gentle as they traced your waist, his thumbs guarding the marks there. "beautiful,” he told himself with a kiss to your collarbone before reaching for a nearby cloth to dab at the sweat beading along your brow. the tenderness in his touch made your throat tighten... he looked at you like you were still the same woman who stole his heart years ago...

the cloth fell from zuko’s fingers into the water as you caught his wrist, laying his palm flat to your stomach... "you're thinking about something, you dare not tell."

"am I?" zuko's thumb traced your navel. "funny. I thought I was worshipping."

your laugh arrived and left when he silenced it with a kiss... slow and deep, his tongue passing in, by your lips. drawing back, his lips lingered close enough to share breath. "the sages," he brought up their wicked calling, nipping at your lower lip, "never warned me about this."

"about what?"

"that their fire lord would fall to his knees for a single sigh from his wife." zuko ushered you to perch on the pool's edge, as he dipped his head lower... pushing your thighs apart on the way down...

all atla works ࿔ ✎, @starr-jazz, @champagnesbiggestproblem, @rosieposiediditagain, @vanillakirstein, tags are open...

zuko works ࿔ ✎, @mystiquevoid, @cantbesuree

[in-som-niyah]

genuinely made me cry ngl well done op

[singse]

the fire lord's council aren't too fond of you because the one time you joined in, you said that they were all incapable of critical thinking. in the nicest, most proper way with your hands neatly folded on your lap and your voice as sweet as the candy you hide in your robes' pockets.

"fire lord zuko!" one of them exclaim angrily, looking towards him. "aren't you going to scold your wife for such disrespect!?"

zuko chooses not to speak immediately because your statement is very correct and if he opens his mouth now, he'll laugh in their faces. and you know this judging by the slight but pleased smile on your lips.

"is it disrespect if there's an element of truth in it?" zuko says calmly, squashing down his amusement for the moment. "my wife, your fire lady, is a highly intelligent woman with valuable opinions and advice to offer. so i'd recommend attempting to adapt to see her point of view and according her the same respect you give me."

the council is quiet, shell-shocked and jaws dropped.

you're positively bursting with joy, having to hide your grin behind your sleeve.

zuko will tolerate a lot of things but any form of disrespect towards you is out of the question. he'll hear about it again soon enough because the council don't take such things lightly.

but defending your honour and seeing your smile shine like the sun itself makes all that more than worthy.

[weirdogirl404]

POV:

The face I make when I tell someone I like to read and they ask me what’s my favorite book but I only read fanfiction’s and X reader story’s

(LIKE DONT LOOK AT ME CRAZY BECAUSE I WANNA BE IMMERSED ( literally) IN THE STORY LIKE?) 👁️👄👁️