giving zuko head but he can't look at you when you do because he's so bad with eye contact, and worse when you've got his entire cock in your mouth.
it's not with you on your knees either, you insisted he take the blowjob with him laying back so he can enjoy himself and look without touching you, just resting on the headboard with those strong arms behind his head while you're practically face down in his crotch and ass up, which you teasingly flaunt and sway side to side, arching your back perfectly while your mouth works around his cock.
he has no idea where you learned this from. he never taught you or told you to smooth your tongue around the flared head, tracing the slit first and practically sucking the pre-cum out from him, before rolling your tongue around the rim and the underside to feel all the ridges and curves. he nearly came the first time you did it, but you've started doing it every time you come up. down, sucking in as much as you can get without choking, then going back up and teasing the tip with his cock.
that little tip action already has him so achingly close, and he knows one look in your eyes will have him creaming on your tongue five minutes in to the experience. he's trying so hard not to be pathetic and to just hold it in, but with how your throat works around his fat cock and your lips wrap around, slackening just so you can coax more of him into your mouth at once, he can't. he just can't.
he tips his head up and closes his eyes, running his fingers through his long hair and breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth to try and regulate himself, will himself not to look at your ass or into your eyes or at those plush lips smothering the shaft of his cock, but he can't handle it.
you can't say you're disappointed when he cums too early, whining your name between heavy, breathy groans and bursting a fat load onto your tongue so early on. and you definitely can't fault him when he stays rock hard because watching you swallow every drop of his load has his stomach twisting up and his cock throbbing despite overstimulation. "this time, you look at me, zu. okay?"
he nods stupidly, a glossy sheen in his eyes as you go in again, his gaze flitting between your mouth descending around his length and your head bobbing for a second to adjust to his size; cumming has just had him swelling up even more. you splutter a bit when he accidentally bucks into your mouth, needing you not to go so slow or he'll cum again, but that was a big mistake. you take the little sign of confidence from him as an indicator that he needs you to go harder, and without warning, you breathe through your nose and descend your mouth as much as you can, now deepthroating his cock. most of it is disappeared into the warm, velvety confines of your mouth.
and, against his will, he's cumming again immediately.
- cw: lower case intended, aged up!neteyam, smut, p in v, humans can breathe the air, virgin!reader, mention of masturbation, neteyam keeps talking about his imagination, fingering, oral (fem receiving), cum eating, dirty talk, size difference (not explicitly mentioned but reader is human soo), neteyam’s kinda possessive, slight belly bulging. let me know if i missed anything!
- an: apologies if this seems rushed. also, so sad we only got glimpses of neteyam in the third movie, i miss my mannn.
- wc: 4.5k
- summary: you and neteyam were inseparable as children. like spider, you were a human left behind, raised among the omatikaya, growing up with pandora as the only home you ever truly knew. when quaritch and the recoms forced jake sully and his family to flee, neteyam disappeared with them, leaving you behind for years of silence and unanswered feelings.
that is, until he returns.
༻༺
you don’t remember a time before pandora.
the forest has always been there in your memories. the hum of insects at dusk, the way the leaves glowed beneath your bare feet, the smell of rain clinging to everything. you learned the paths before you learned to read, learned which branches could hold your weight, which plants to avoid, which ones neteyam swore were “harmless” right before you proved him wrong.
neteyam had always been there too, along with kiri, lo’ak, tuk and spider of course.
you grew up at his side, trailing after him and his siblings like it was the most natural thing in the world. he taught you how to climb when your human hands slipped, how to keep quiet when the forest went still, how to laugh when you fell instead of crying. sometimes he carried you on his back when you got tired, grumbling the whole time but never once leaving you behind.
you were different, you always knew that, smaller, softer, human. but with him, it never felt like something that mattered. you belonged because he said you did. because the sullys said you did.
those days feel impossibly distant now.
you remember the tension creeping in before everything changed. the way the adults spoke in hushed voices, the way neteyam stopped laughing so easily. you didn’t understand gravity of it then, only that something was wrong. that the forest felt heavier. that goodbye came too fast.
one day, they were there.
the next, they were gone.
the forest felt wrong after that. too big. too quiet. you still walked the same paths, still slept beneath the same stars, but everything felt tilted, like pandora itself had shifted without him in it. you told yourself you were fine. you had to be.
norm and max stayed.
they became your anchors in a way you hadn’t expected. the lab, once overwhelming, all blinking lights and foreign sounds, slowly turned into something familiar. safe. you still visited the clan occasionally, although no way near as much as you once had. you learned how to calibrate equipment, how to catalogue samples, how to keep your hands steady even when your chest felt tight with missing someone you weren’t sure you were allowed to miss this much.
you grew up between microscopes and memory.
years passed like that. quietly. you traded scraped knees and borrowed na’vi clothes for data pads and human fabric that felt strange against skin used to vines and leaves. you still visited the forest, pandora was home, always would be, but you were changing, just as much as everything else.
and then one day..
“they’re back!”
the words didn’t register at first.
your hands stilled over the lab bench. the hum of machinery faded into a dull roar in your ears. they’re back. which meant..
no. you didn’t let yourself think it. not yet.
when they arrived, it was chaos. voices overlapping, na’vi gathering, the air thick with emotion and relief and something heavier underneath. you hung back near the edge, heart pounding so hard you were sure everyone could hear it.
and then you saw him.
neteyam stood just behind his father, taller than you remembered, broader, scarred in ways that made your chest ache. the boy who you remembered to be, was gone. in his place stood a warrior, quiet, alert, eyes sharper than before.
his gaze swept the crowd.
and then it landed on you.
for a split second, something cracked in his composure. not enough for anyone else to notice, but you did. you always had. his eyes widened, just barely, like he was seeing a ghost.
you weren’t the same either.
you saw it in the way his gaze lingered, uncertain, like he was trying to reconcile who you were now with the memory of the human kid who used to sit beside him, legs swinging, asking too many questions.
too much time had passed. too many things left unsaid.
but he was here.
he was here and it felt surreal.
you couldn’t move, feet rooted to the ground and you observed the surroundings. around you, people moved, embraces, voices, relief spilling out in bursts but all of it blurred at the edges. all you could see was him.
however, you broke eye contact first.
it wasn’t dramatic, no rush, no stumble, just a quiet decision made. this wasn’t your moment. it shouldn’t be. he’d just returned from years of hiding, fighting, surviving. his family was there, his clan, people who had mourned him as much as they’d waited. whatever this tight, aching thing was in your chest didn’t get to come before that.
so you stepped back.
you slipped through the edge of the crowd, boots soft against the forest floor, the sounds of reunion fading behind you. laughter, choked voices, someone crying openly. it felt wrong to intrude on it with everything you didn’t know how to say. you told yourself you were being sensible. kind, even. he deserved time. space.
you didn’t want to be selfish. and even more, maybe those feelings you felt years ago were one sided. maybe neteyam didn’t feel the same way you did.
the lab welcomed you back with sterile light and familiar hums. too quiet compared to the forest, but steady. you busied yourself with anything you could reach, data logs, recalibrations, a half-finished report you’d already rewritten twice. your hands worked on muscle memory alone, because your mind kept drifting back to the way his eyes had widened when he saw you.
hours passed.
max and norm both questioned why you hadn’t gone to greet them all yet, but you didn’t have a proper answer.
you were bent over a console, pretending very hard to read numbers that refused to make sense, when a shadow crossed the doorway.
you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
the air shifted, subtle, instinctive, the way it always had around him.
“you didn’t come say hi,” neteyam said.
his voice was deeper now. rougher. it sent a warm feeling through your body.
you turned slowly, schooling your expression into something neutral, professional. safe. “you just got back,” you said, like it explained everything. “i figured you’d want to be with your family… your clan.”
for a moment, he just watched you. really watched you. not like before.
“i looked for you,” he said quietly.
“you had a lot of people looking for you,” you reply casually. “i thought… you’d want time with them first.”
neteyam exhales through his nose, something between a huff and a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. he steps closer, careful, like he’s not sure if you’ll bolt if he moves too fast.
neteyam eyes flicker over you, slow, deliberate, taking in the way you’ve changed. his tail twitches behind him, restless.
"you’re taller," he blurts out, voice rough. his gaze lingering on your legs, your waist, the curve of your lips.
you swallow hard.
“taller.” that’s all he says? after years? your fingers tighten around the edge of the console, grounding yourself. "and you’re… broader." the words slip out before you can stop them, your traitorous eyes skimming over his chest, the new scars mapping his skin like stories he never got to tell you.
a beat of silence.
his lips quirk. just barely. "you noticed."
your face burns. “damn him”
neteyam steps closer, the scent of him curling around you. too close. your pulse stutters when his tail sways, brushing your thigh. accidentally? you doubt it.
"you left," you blurt, hating how small your voice sounds.
his amusement fades. "i didn’t have a choice."
"You could’ve sent something, tried to communicate with me.” you muttered.
“it was hard when you all left, the only family i felt like i had.”
"i tried." his jaw tenses. "messages got intercepted. people got hurt."
you bit your lip.
neteyam exhales, running a hand through his braids. "you cut your hair." he changes the subject.
you resist the urge to reach for the shorter strands. "it got in the way."
he hummed, his gaze drops to your neck, exposed now. "i liked it long."
“it’s not that much shorter.” you replied.
the air between you thickens, is it awkwardness or just tension? you really can’t tell.
just then, lo’ak swings through the door unceremoniously, his carefree attitude cutting through the thick tension in the air. he takes a moment to take in the scene. neteyam and you are standing close, conversation halted in its tracks. lo’ak lifts an eyebrow, noticing something is off, but his usual smirk remains intact. "you two look serious." he quips, leaning against the console with ease.
neteyam takes a subtle step back, his expression guarded. "we’re just talking." his voice is casual, but there's a hint of irritation.
lo'ak chuckles, his gaze flickering between them. "just talking? looks like it was getting a little heated in here."
“not really.” you butted in, “he was just mentioning my hair.”
lo’ak’s smirk widens at your response, clearly not buying what you said. "right," he drawls, crossing his arms.
neteyam shoots him a glare, tail flicking in annoyance.
lo'ak just shrugs, unfazed. "anyway, dad wants you. something about perimeter checks." he glances at you again, then back at neteyam. "unless you're busy…?”
neteyam exhales sharply through his nose. "i'm coming."
as he moves to follow lo'ak, his fingers brush against yours deliberately, before he pulls away completely. the brief contact sends a wave of heat to your cheeks.
it was innocent enough, but being human on pandora, you never really received any sort of attention from boys, let alone contact.
lo'ak, oblivious to the silent exchange, claps neteyam on the back. "great! because dad’s in one of his moods..”
the door slides shut behind them, leaving you alone in the lab.
later that night, you couldn’t sleep.
your bedroom felt suffocating, so you slipped outside, letting pandora’s night air cool your skin. the glowing flora pulses softly underfoot as you wander deeper into the trees, trying and failing not to think about neteyam.
you felt like you were a kid again, before the events unravelled.
just you and the forest.
the only difference being you in your human pyjamas, rather than the loincloth and top you used to wear.
a twig snaps behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts.
you turn, pulse jumping. only to find neteyam standing there, his silhouette haloed by bioluminescence.
“you followed me," you accuse.
he steps closer, his gaze dark. "yeah." no excuses. no pretenses.
it caught you off guard.
“i was heading over to see you, then saw you leaving so i followed behind.” he replied.
you simply observed.
it made sense.
he made his way over to you, ducking through branches and other greenery.
his fingers trace the edge of your jaw, his touch feather-light, maddening. “i thought about you, you know?” “every damn night under those same stars. wondering if you still looked up at them. if you… missed me."
you gulp as you watch him.
his thumb presses against your bottom lip, dragging it down just slightly. his pupils are blown wide, dark with something raw.
"and when missing you got too much?" he leans in, his next words whispered against your skin, “ i touched myself imagining it was your hands on me."
your stomach clenches, heat pooling low.
neteyam’s words hung thickly in the air, the intensity of his gaze making you shiver. you were short for words, shocked at his sudden confession.
your heart hammered in your chest, a mixture of desire and uncertainty swirling inside you. you swallowed hard, trying to collect yourself before responding. "neteyam, i..." your voice trailed off, uncertain of what to say, but he took another step closer, his tail wrapping around your waist almost possessively.
his hand slid up to cradle your face, his touch sending sparks across your skin.
"sometimes..." his thumb traced the shape of your bottom lip, his voice low and raspy. "sometimes i’d close my eyes, pretend you were with me."
His eyes moved over you, the intensity of his gaze making your heart skip a beat.
"and i’d think about you in those moments... how I would touch you, if you were there."
his breath warmed your neck as he leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “i’d imagine you here… like this… under the stars we both looked up at.”
a shiver raced down your spine as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.
“remember that hollow in the cliffs? where we used to hide from lo’ak during games?” his voice was rough, low. “i’d imagine me lying there at night and picture you beside me.. under me.”
your breath hitched.
“i’d imagine pushing your shirt up slow,” he murmured, one hand sliding along your waist, fingers teasing beneath the fabric, “feeling how soft your skin is, how warm. i used to wonder if you'd arch into my touch like this…” he pressed his palm flat against the small of your back and pushed, just enough to make you gasp.
“and i always imagined,” he whispered against your jaw, “that when I finally kissed you here, really kissed you.. you’d taste even sweeter than i imagined.”
his hips shifted forward, the slightest grind, and a low sound escaped him.
“that’s when i would of slipped my hand down,” his thumb hooked into the waistband of your pyjamas, “you wouldn’t stop me.”
you let out a small whimper.
“i dreamt about feeling how wet you get for me,” he admitted hoarsely. “wondered if those quiet little noises would be enough to drive me wild after years of waiting.” he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.
"you kept me up late," he murmured, teeth grazing your skin.
his mouth moved lower, along your collarbone, nipping at it teasingly.
“teyam..” you whined quietly.
"shhh," he hushed, voice thick with want. his hips pressed firmer against yours, letting you feel every hard inch of him. "my little scientist... finally letting me taste what's been mine all along?"
his hand slid lower, past your hips, down to the back of your thigh and hooked it up around his waist. you gasped as he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you against the tree.
"i imagined this too," he growled into your ear. "you wrapped around me, just like that night by the waterfall when we were younger.”
you bit your lip as the memory came flooding back in, you forgot about that.
"i dreamed about making you cum under these stars," he whispered raggedly, tail curling tighter around your waist like a promise. "with my mouth on you.. my name on your lips..”
he finally dipped his hand beneath the hem of your pyjamas, soft fabric sliding aside and brushed one fingertip over damp heat.
he groaned low in his chest.
“shit.. no panties?”
“i.. i don’t wear any to bed.” you replied sheepishly.
he let out a rough, pleased noise. half-growl, half-laugh.
“good,” he breathed. “means I don’t have to tear anything off you.”
his finger dragged through your folds slowly, once, twice, making you whimper and arch against him. “you’re already so wet…”
“you made me wait years,” you gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “of course I’m..” you let out a mewl, “ready for you..”
he smirked, adding pressure just where you needed it. “i used to dream about how tight you’d feel around my fingers… my cock.” he slid one deep inside with no warning, slow, deep, and your head fell back against the tree as a moan tore from your throat.
“like that?” he purred.
you nodded ferociously as his thumb found your clit, circling with torturous precision. "tell me," he murmured, voice thick, "how many nights did you lie awake thinking of me?"
you cried out, hips jerking forward. "n-neteyam!”
"answer me." he added pressure, relentless. "did you touch yourself? imagine it was my hand? my mouth?"
a broken sob escaped you. "yes!..” you whined. “almost nightly!..” you followed up.
he continued pumping his fingers in, out, in, out, for a good few minutes.
his fingers curled inside you just right and suddenly, the world shattered. a sharp cry ripped from your throat as heat exploded low in your belly, waves of pleasure crashing through you as you came hard around his fingers, wet and trembling, your knees nearly giving out.
neteyam didn’t pull away. didn’t stop.
he held you through it, thumb still circling the bud gently as the tremors faded, watching your face with fascination.
he slowly slid his soaked fingers free, and without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his lips and sucked them clean.
your breath caught at the sight, the raw hunger in his eyes, as dropped to his knees in front of you.
his glowing eyes locked onto yours as he hooked your pyjama shorts around his fingers and yanked them down over trembling hips.
his nose brushed your inner thigh.
his hands slid up the underside of you knees, spreading your legs wider.
“look at her.. perfect.” he mumbled under his breath as he looked almost star-struck.
you watched, breath heaving, as he pressed light, worshiping kisses up the inside of your thigh, his eyes locked onto yours.
he looked wrecked, just from watching you cum.
his breath was hot against your skin. "you’re so beautiful," he murmured.
then he exhaled low, like a prayer, and lowered his mouth to your cunt, still pulsing from your release. he lapped up at your cunt with slow, deep strokes of his tongue.
"you taste even better than I dreamed," he groaned against you.
your fingers fisted into his hair as he circled your clit with his tongue, before he moved further down and began teasing your entrance.
he didn't let up. just held you steady with strong hands on your hips and drank from you like a starved man.
he groaned against your heat, the sound vibrating through you. “so sweet… mine.”
every flick of his tongue was deliberate. slow at first, savoring, like he had years to make up for. then deeper, hungrier. his nose brushing your clit as he devoured you with quiet desperation.
you gasped, back arching off the tree as his thumbs spread you wider and ‘yes..’ “there!” that wicked swirl right over your most sensitive spot.
“you gonna come again?” he murmured between licks, voice rough with need. “right on my face?”
You could only whimper in return, but it was enough.
because neteyam growled low in his chest and dove back in like a man possessed, licking deep into your folds, circling your clit with maddening precision before sucking it gently into his mouth.
stars blurred above you. the forest pulsed beneath. and all that existed was this, him between your legs, the way his name broke from your lips like a prayer..
“neteyam… i’m.. i’m gonna..”
his ears twitched at the sound, and he redoubled his efforts, tongue swirling faster, sucking gently as one hand slipped beneath to cup your ass, pulling you even closer.
"again," he growled against you. "let me feel it baby..”
and when you came, shuddering violently against his mouth with a choked cry, he didn't stop.
he just moaned like it was him being rewarded.
the vibrations sent another shockwave through your oversensitive nerves, making your legs tremble.
finally, slowly, he pulled back, but only enough to press one soft kiss to your inner thigh.
then looked up at you, eyes glossy, swollen lips glistening with you..
"still not enough," he whispered, voice raw.
he rose in one fluid motion, closing the space between you again, your back to the tree, his body against yours.
you could feel him now. hard, thick, straining against his loincloth, pressed right where your body still pulsed from his mouth.
his lips found your neck, biting gently. "wanna be inside when you come again."
your breath hitched. "neteyam..."
"i know," he murmured, thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip. "too much? too fast?"
you shook your head desperately.
“no..”
he exhaled sharply through his nose, the closest thing to losing control you'd ever seen from him.
"good." his hand slid down to cup you possessively between your legs, one finger teasing at your entrance again.
he swiftly took off your top
your bare skin prickled as the cool night air caressed your chest.
he leaned in, lips skimming the shell of your ear. "you ever been with anyone else?"
your stomach fluttered nervously. "no..”
he smiled against your skin, satisfaction and relief pouring off him.
"good…" he whispered, his hand skimming up the front of your bare torso, creeping upwards towards your breasts.
"no one else got to touch you like this... did they? only me."
"only you…" you confirmed.
he groaned low, his mouth moving along your jaw, claiming more territory. "that’s right. you’re mine. only mine."
his hand found your thigh again. "put your leg around me."
you wrapped your leg around his hip, drawing him closer.
your heart stuttered as you felt just how hard your touch made him. neteyam inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into your thigh.
"that's it," he murmured, voice rough. "hold onto me."
you obeyed, grasping onto his shoulders, holding him tight. your body hummed with anticipation.
he pulled you even closer, grinding his hips against yours almost involuntarily with a shaky exhale. you could feel just how much you had affected him.
"missed you…" he murmured between kisses, his lips trailing along your neck. "all these years, i… imagined this. over and over again."
"i did too..." you whispered back.
he kissed you, slow and deep, it made your chest ache. not just desire, something more.
when he pulled back, his eyes searched yours under the soft glow of pandoran night.
his hands moved to the ties of his loincloth and in one smooth motion, freed himself.
you gasped at the sight. thick, proud, already glistening at the tip.
he guided himself to your entrance slowly.. teasingly.. letting just the head slide in as his thumb found your clit again.
"look at me," he demanded softly.
you obeyed as you held his gaze.
with a low groan that vibrated through both of you, he pushed forward inch by inch.. filling you completely until there was no space left between you.
you cried out, part pain, part overwhelming fullness as he stretched you for the first time, your body clenching around his girth.
he froze instantly. "hey… hey, look at me," he murmured, voice thick with concern and restraint. his thumb brushed your cheek as he stayed buried deep inside you, motionless, letting you adjust.
tears pricked your eyes.
"you're okay," he whispered against your lips. "i’ve got you. just breathe… for me."
you nodded shakily and took a breath in and then another, feeling yourself slowly relax around him.
“that’s it," he praised softly, kissing away a tear that slipped free. "take all of me."
and when you rolled your hips slightly, a quiet signal, he exhaled like it was agony and began to move.
slow at first, one deep thrust that made stars burst behind your eyelids, then another just as deliberate.
each one sent waves of pleasure spiraling through you until the line between pain and ecstasy blurred.
"neteyam…" your voice called out
he kissed you hard as his rhythm picked up, one hand gripping your hip to pull you onto him deeper with each stroke, the other tangled in yours above your head.
"i’m here," he muttered against your skin. "feel me?" he said as he pushed his much bigger hand against the bulge, disappearing and reappearing in your stomach with each thrust.
"i feel you... all of you," you gasped, nails raking down his back as he rolled his hips harder.
each thrust drove a moan from your throat, deeper, fuller than before. he was so deep inside you it felt like he was touching your soul.
"yeah? you take me so damn well," he growled, shifting slightly, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every powerful stroke. "mine.. only mine.."
you sobbed out his name as the pressure built again, tighter this time, hotter.
"that’s it," he whispered against your neck, his lips on your pulse point. "come for me, baby. i want to feel you.” he pulled back, looking down at you both, watching his cock slip in and out of your cunt.
“look at us,” he rasped, voice thick with awe and hunger. “you’re taking every inch..”
his thrusts turned shallow, rhythmic, just enough to grind against your clit with each roll of his hips. you whimpered, back arching as the pleasure coiled tighter, unbearable now.
“neteyam.. i’m.. i’m..”
one hand slid between you, rubbing firm circles over your swollen bud. “come on my cock. let me feel it.”
and when you shattered, your body clamped down around him in pulsing waves. he groaned like it was salvation.
“yes.. yes.. that’s it..” he panted against your neck as you trembled through the release.
but he didn’t stop moving.
just kept thrusting, deeper now, as if your pleasure had only fueled his need.
"i’m not gonna last..” he groaned, his mouth finding yours again. "not gonna last..”
you could feel his control slipping, his rhythm turning erratic, his breath coming rougher now as he chased his own release.
“then don’t,” you whispered against his lips, nails digging into his back. “i want you to cum inside me.. want to feel it..”
his hips stuttered at your words, like you'd stripped the last of his restraint away.
"shit..” he choked out, burying his face in your neck as his body tensed. "you're gonna make me..”
with a deep, guttural groan, he thrusts into you hard, once, twice and then stilled completely.
you felt it, he came inside you, each wave shuddering through his body and into yours.
he collapsed against you slightly, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breathing ragged and raw.
for long moments, there was only the sound of the forest breathing around you and your hearts beating in sync.
finally, he lifted his head just enough to look at you, eyes soft now.
he cupped your face, thumb brushing your sweaty forehead. "you okay?" he whispered, still out of breath.
you managed a nod, too spent to form words just yet.
he huffed a small laugh, lips finding your temple.
he pulled out slowly, gently and immediately wrapped his arms around you as your legs finally gave way. his warmth didn't leave you, not even for a second, as he lowered himself to the soft moss beneath, pulling you on top of him with care.
he sat with your back pressed to his chest, legs cradling yours, tail curling snugly around your waist.
one hand smoothed damp strands of hair from your face, the other rested low on your stomach, possessive and tender all at once.
"you're incredible," he murmured into your ear, pressing a kiss just behind it.
you leaned into him completely.
his voice dropped lower. "i should've done this years ago."
༻༺
hiii! i hope you guys enjoy this one of neteyam! as always, reblogs, likes and comments are very helpful and i appreciate all of you guys who choose to support my work!
warnings 𖨂 NSFW. MDNI. fem!reader, dacryphilia, p i v, soft!dom!jake, finger sucking, jake calls reader 'fussy'
“What’re you crying for, baby?” Jake questions as you ride his cock. The girth and length filling you up is overwhelming each time your core swallows his shaft. You’re on top, and even though you should be doing most of the work, Jake’s hands are placed under your ass to slide you up and down on him. It gives you a false sense of control, but you both know who’s really in charge.
“Mm— uh! Feels too good…” You finally manage to hiccup the words out, tears rolling down your cheeks as the tip of Jake’s cock pushes against your cervix, over and over again. The pressure of his girth, in a constant state of stimulating all your nerves, makes your body tremble. With shaking legs, you try to quicken the pace of your movements to maximize Jake’s pleasure, but Jake is quick to stop you— a gentle reminder that he’s the one who decides how fast you can ride him. You don't have to look down to know how wet you are, the sound of your arousal is loud and sticky as your cunt soaks his lap.
“Here,” Jake mutters, his fingers tugging on your bottom lip. Your face contorts with pleasure, mouth opening, allowing his index finger to penetrate your mouth. His digit is cool against your warm tongue, and your teary eyes snap shut as you focus on using his finger as a way to pacify the quiver in your jaw from the overwhelming feeling of his cock ramming into you. “That’s it, fussy girl. Just needed somethin’ to suck on, huh?”
Synopsis- You are Varang's quiet and sweet mate. When Miles Quaritch comes taking her attention, you develop a distaste for the demon—that is until it becomes glaringly clear they're in competition for you.
Warning-Smut, dirty old perv Quaritch, toxic!Varang, dubious consent, power-imbalance
A/n- MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! I managed to (barely) make it... At least for my time zone hehe! This was my first time writing smut and omg... I have so much respect for Smut authors... It was so hard???? Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy!
Part Two Part Three
Varang knew exactly what kept her breathing.
Spite.
It sat in her lungs like soot and settled behind her ribs like a coal that refused to die. Every memory she carried tasted of burned soil—blood soaking into blackened ground, screams rising like smoke. Hers. Her clan’s.
“Please, great Mother. Eywa, save us.”
It left her mouth in a whisper. Not a prayer, never a prayer.
She bent over a grove of saplings—young, thin things, barely taller than her waist. Infants compared to the old thunks that once crowned the forest. Their green made her stomach turn.
“Please, great Mother, balance of all. Eywa,” she crooned.
Her hand closed around a thin trunk, green where wood would grow. She drove it into the earth until it snapped with a soft, wet gasp.
She paused.
Do they pray? Did they beg Eywa when the sky-people burned the forest? Did they learn what refusal felt like, too?
“Tsahik.”
The voice came from behind her. Yepa stepped around a bushel of leaves, stripes still damp from the paint he had earned only days ago. A boy-turned-hunter, proud and awkward in the same breath.
Varang turned just enough to meet his eyes. Smiled. “Yes?”
He read the violence in her stance, the splintered tree at her feet, and managed a small, careful grin. “It’s Y/n. She asks for your presence.”
Ah.
Y/n.
Varang’s breath softened, just barely. Yes—spite kept her alive. Spite moved her hands, her teeth, her every step through the burned forest.
But there was something else that pulled herfrom the ruins. Something gentler. Warmer. More dangerous than any hatred she’d survived.
“If she asks for me,” Varang murmured, straightening. “it is only natural I answer.”
She stepped forward, leaving the crushed sapling behind her.
Y/n.
Y/n.
Y/n.
Her name throbbed in Varang’s chest like a second heartbeat.
“Y/n.”
You were crouched beneath a leaning pillar of old wood, shoulders tight, attention fixed on something beyond Varang’s first glance. When she stepped forward, she saw it. Him. Sapok.
The elder’s breaths were slowing, the chest rising more from will than its usual habit. A man held together by tendon, and even those were loosening.
You lifted your gaze to her, a soft frown creasing your features.
“It’s time.”
Those two words carried the finality of the situation. The kind that meant a soul would not return through the roots of the Tree, not tonight, not ever. Time meant the moment Eywa reclaimed what was left—unless, as in Sapok’s case, He refused.
Sapok had been split open long before his body began to fail—grief hollowing him when fire took his children, then his grandchildren, then the home his mothers grandmother had woven and built. Some wounds refused to close.
Grief had rotted him from the inside, until madness carved out his eyes with his own hands.
“I curse Eywa,” he’d spat at Varang once, voice shredded. “Do not let me return. Let my energy be mine, and mine alone.”
And she had promised.
Varang lowered herself beside you, knees against the soft earth. With deliberate care she drew her blades—curved shypers that caught what little light seeped through the smoke. Sapok could not see her, could not know whose hand would free him—but she swore his breath steadied, as if some part of him knew she was there.
She angled the blade.
Then she opened his throat.
With a second practiced motion, she severed his queue. The neural tendrils sparked with a frantic, chaotic flutter before collapsing.
Varang laid the queue against her hip, another to the collection.
“To the fires we will see you,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the cooling skin of his brow, “and in the ash of your remains, we will carry you.”
You joined her in the ritual. Together you washed his body in ash, coating every wound, every ridge, every piece of him that grief had kept. You bound the flesh with cloth and quiet hands, sealing him for the journey he had chosen.
Tradition demanded quiet before the flames rose, and so you held your breath. Thinking.
Varang leaned in first (she always did) and brushed a soft kiss to the curve of your neck. You shifted, shy. “Not now,” you muttered.
But she only hummed and wrapped an arm around your waist anyway.
“Why not?” she whispered against your skin. “Life should be savored when death sits so close, no?”
You shot her a look. Annoying. So annoying. You gathered your tools, bowls—your things, and packed them into a hollowed gourd. “Do not be like this.”
One ear flicked. “Like what?”
“Crude,” you snapped.
Varang smiled. She always smiled. It never meant anything except whatever she wanted it to.
“You’re angry,” she said. She caught your hand and pressed her mouth to each knuckle, slow, though her eyes never left yours. “Tell me. What have I done?”
Your lips thinned. Your tail gave you away.
“The sky-person,” you grumbled. “The one with the strange voice and the uglier face.”
Varang paused. And for the first time, her smile shifted into something fond. Now that angered you. You pulled your hand away and turned, jaw tight.
“Oh. Him?” she said at last. “Miles Quaritch.”
She reached for you again, palms gliding up your forearms, barely touching. She tried to catch your eye again.
“Him?” you mimicked her airy tone. “Yes. Him.” With a sudden twitch to your tail you groaned. “Eywa preserve me. I will not have a lovers quarrel beside Sapok’s dead body.”
“He would laugh,” she offered lightly.
You hissed and shoved her back with a flat hand. She pouted, and somehow that made it worse. “I need to do some things.”
You slipped out of the hut, brushing past the hanging beads. Of course she followed. Her stride matched yours.
“That is very vague, Y/n,” she said, tone almost sing-song.
You turned your head back, hands failing about. “Oh that's very vague?! You-”
You suddenly hit someone's chest. “Oh!”
Your eyes looked up. Golden eyes, hair along the brows and a meatier, softer impact. Who else other then:
“Miles Quaritch.” You said his name clumsily. It was the demon language, English. But it earned something of a smile from him. Like Varangs, cocky. Unlike Varangs, surprisingly warm.
“Watch where you’re going, cupcake.”
You barely understood him. Varang seemed to, though. Her demeanor changed, she tilted her head. “Demon.” She briefed a nod, and he tilted his head back, gesturing to a nearby Yurt.
“We got some things to discuss.” He grumbled.
Varang soothed a hum, before gently taking a strand of your hair and pinching it. “I’ll see you in the evening.”
You watched as she led him, and glared at Miles Quaritch, who eyed you before following her.
Great.
.
.
.
You had seen death stare at you.
It wore a woman’s face—pleasant, almost gentle. Golden-amber eyes that caught the light, hatred folded neatly behind patient lips. Black against black: wax-dark hair braided with bones of past loves.
Death came as kisses pressed to your cheek, as queues offered in submission, heads bowed. Death had a name here.
Varang.
Quaritch was not death, but the feeling curled similar in your chest. It lodged beneath your ribs and dragged its way down your spine, coiling into your legs until instinct screamed. Move, idiot. Move until he catches you.
You stared at him as he stared at you, the bonfire crackling between. Varang had told you his story: human once, died, reborn na'vi. That's why the pair made sense together, you supposed—he'd crossed the threshold and returned, and if Varang was death itself, then he must be the one who guards her door. Gatekeeper. Guardian. Something worse.
Now the spirit would not stop looking.
You turned away first, fixing your attention anywhere but him. Your mouth pulled into a soft pout as you drank from the skull-cup—nectar cut with water. Too sweet, you felt your teeth ache.
“Your pet has a staring problem.” You grumbled.
Varang lifted an eye, her smile widened, and she played with your beaded top. “He is curious.”
“He should be curious somewhere else.”
“Now, Y/N,” Varang chided softly, “do not be hostile.”
You almost laughed at that. Do not be hostile. When has Varang ever uttered such words?
You flickered back at him, and he winked. His lips quirked up at your sneer, too-perfect-teeth reflecting the orange of the fire. Like stained blood. Then he drank from his cup, and then lifted up.
You had actually flinched at the movement, cocked your head to Varang in slight panic, but she only laughed. He moved, settling heavy beside her. “Evenin’, girls.” He tipped his head in your direction. You scowled back. “Mhm, not so touchy huh?”
“She does not understand you, Quaritch.”
He paused, cup halfway to his mouth. "Huh." A beat, then that grin widened. "Well. Guess I oughta teach her. She'll be talkin' to human grunts soon enough."
Varang's grin widened. She glanced at you, and you felt the weight of her attention like a hand at your throat. "He says he will teach you the demon language, Y/n." You knew that tone. "Take it."
"But Varang—"
And there it was.
The shift. The moment her eyes turned sharp and her smile crooked just enough to bare a hint of fang.
Your ears flattened. You looked at Quaritch—that stupid, shit-eating grin still plastered across his face—and swallowed every word clawing up your throat. Barely managed it.
Varang's fingers—meanwhile, found your hip, she dug in hard enough that tomorrow you'd wear the shape of them in bruises and adorn them like a kiss. That’s all you could do, anyway. She wouldn’t allow for anything else.
You bowed your head before you could stop it, face twisting despite yourself.
"F-Fine."
You turned the glare on Quaritch instead. Poured every drop of frustration and helpless fury into it, let it burn there where Varang couldn't track it. Never at her. Never where she could see. She wouldn't forgive that.
Her grip released. She rose—graceful and already dismissing you. She shoved you toward him with one careless hand. The push sent you stumbling forward before you caught yourself with Quaritch’s bicep.
"She'll do it, Quaritch."
"Atta girl," he drawled around a mouthful of meat.
You hissed at him. “Teylupil,”
.
.
.
Quaritch was everything you'd imagined and worse—arrogant, obtuse, swaggering through life with the blissful ignorance of someone who’d never met a problem his fists couldn’t solve. Worst of all, though? The man was charming, and with the several weeks spent between you two… fond.
You'd never say it aloud. Eywa could strike you down first. His ego needed no more compliments, it was swollen enough to crowd a room. Yet there it was: he made you laugh.
"Aww, c'mon. Like this." His tongue curled with exaggerated precision. "Patient. Pati-eee-nt. Feel that? The tongue goes up, not back."
You mimicked the shape of his mouth, lips pulling awkwardly. "Pati-eee-nt."
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. His palm landed twice against your thigh—approving pats. "That's right. Good job."
Your ears flicked traitorously forward. Heat crept beneath your skin as a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Varang had never been this patient, this rewarding. Good things from her meant extra morsels of food. But Quaritch kept a pocket full of those wrapped things—candy, he called them, and handed out those small, colorful spheres when you or another na’vi did something good.
"Patiee-nt. Patiee-nt," you murmured again, testing it.
One brow arched. His mouth quirked. "You're picking up my accent. That's a Kansa's special right there."
"Accent?" The word felt strange on your tongue. Your grasp on this language remained amature at best. You frowned. "Accent... what?"
"What's an accent," he corrected, softening his tone. "What is an accent, you mean, doll."
You tipped your head forward, eyes wide, a question within the angle. Something in that expression pleased him—his thumb caught your chin, tugging playfully. "It's like... hm. Well, not everyone talks the way I do." A laugh escaped him, warm like the sun. "S'funny, actually. You and the other Na'vi pickin’ up my way of speaking. All of you runnin’ around sounding like cowboys. The guys'll lose their minds if they hear you."
"Funny." You paused, tail curling uncertainly behind you. "Not... normal?"
He nodded, something careful entering his expression. "You ever listen to Wainfleet talk?"
"Bald one?"
Quaritch barked a laugh. “Yeah, the bald one. But don't let him hear you say that or he'll yank your tail."
That drew a smile, even if you struggled processing the words.
"Speak—" your tongue was slow and clumsy against the language. "—sloowwwlly." You tapped at your flickering ears. "Hear. Is trying to."
He hummed, tilting his head in consideration. "Yeah, that's right. Alright, I think that's done for the day." He lifted himself up and carefully reached for your hand.
The fourth finger still felt strange against your palm—foreign in the way the knuckle was twice your size. But it was nice, too. Bigger than any of the other males in your clan. No wonder Varang liked holding it. She always liked different.
"You're a quick learner, cupcake. Better than I ever was learnin' Na'vi." His voice carried some old frustration. "My boy, Spider—he tried getting it through my thick skull. An' I could barely string a sentence together."
"Spider. Son." You gave a distant nod. Varang had mentioned him once. He had a son. Wanted him back. No harm to come to him, you remembered that much.
"Mhm." His gaze drifted somewhere past your shoulder, through the woven walls to a place you couldn't follow. For once the mask of bravado slipped, and beneath it was grief of missing someone.
You didn’t really care. That was his business. And yours…
Your lower lip jutted forward in a small pout. Hand reaching out, expectant.
That snapped him back. The grin returned, easier now, and he dug into his cargo pants before pulling out the small bag. "You really like Skittles, huh?" He poured a few into his palm, fingers sorting through the colors before plucking out the red ones. You seemed to really like those. "There you go, little lady."
The taste was different from anything on Pandora, but you liked it. "Mh, good." You nodded. You immediately plopped them into your mouth and chewed. Yum.
He watched you for a long moment—longer than necessary—then bit his lower lip and reached over to tug gently at your cheek. "You're the cutest of the bunch, y'know that? Not so bad when you're like this." His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw, voice dropping quieter. "No wonder Varang keeps you around."
"She is, isn't she."
Varang sauntered through. Her body shifted like the dancing of flame, but you knew her enough. You saw her for the fire, not the warmth. You bowed your head and drew your shoulders in. Small gestures for necessary ones.
Varang's mouth was a thin, bloodless line—aimed directly at Quaritch.
She stepped to your side and pressed her hip against yours. You felt the decorative bones pricking your side, stabbing your soft skin. The contact pinned you there while her gaze carved into him. "I told you to teach her."
"And what am I doing?" Quaritch's head canted, dismissive. He wasn't the yielding type.
“Making her weak.”
He scoffed—an amused sound that bubbled into genuine exasperation. His hand found your forearm. “Hm? And how am I makin’ her weak, buttercup?”
Varang hissed.
That surprised you both.
She hauled you back, fingers tight enough to bruise. "You may see. Not touch." Then she stepped closer to him, and the tension in her shoulders melted into something silk-smooth. Run, Quaritch. You tried telling him with your eyes. You are prey. But Varang had a way about her, captivating.
"Besides," Varang murmured, trailing one finger along the freckles of his throat, "you already have me." her lips ghosted over his pulse, and her fingers trailed down to cup the front of his pants. He hissed, a different one—a pleased one. "Do well to remember that."
She turned then, and the sultriness drained from her the moment her back faced him. Her hands found your arm again and you winced as she dragged you forward.
You cast one glance back at Quaritch. His face had gone stony.
Her grip on your arm tightened and you winced, allowed yourself to be turned.
"Varang—" you began, stumbling to keep pace.
She didn’t slow. She dragged you into her yurt, shoving you down onto the woven mat with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs. Firelight dnced along the walls, casting her in molten gold as she paced before you.
You breathed slowly, words aching to come, yet withheld under her stare.
She paced forward, steady. You lowered your head, looking anywhere but her—the woven floor, the yurt’s wooden beams, the way ash fell between the light. Her fingers found your chin, and forced your face upward. "See me."
You did. You looked up. "I... I do see you."
That made her calm, just a bit. Her heart gentled and her expression softened into something sweet. She tilted her head, studying you with the intensity of someone memorizing a dying lover, before pressing a kiss against your lips. Her eyes never shut. They watched for your reaction, golden and unblinking, and you knew exactly which one to give.
You closed your own eyes, kissing her back, hands gripping her shoulders. Warmth bloomed where skin met skin—hers fever-hot, yours clammy. "You make me weak," she finally whispered against your mouth.
That gave you pause. She either didn't notice or didn't care.
"Varang." You tilted your head up, felt her lips brush underneath your jaw, trailing heat. Your eyes felt particularly hazy—fatigue, pain, something else entirely. She slowly brought her own queue over her shoulder, and your eyes caught the restrictive tie wrapped around the tendrils.
You glanced, freckles flashing in slight embarrassment. "R-Right now...?"
She gave a nod.
You brought your own queue forward with trembling fingers, a headache already forming. She let the tendrils bond together. The both of you shuddered. Her anger crashed over you first—the frequent memory of the volcano. The screams of her mother, the passive voice of her father: “If it is Eywa’s will, Varang… be like your sister, Varang.” Then her hate followed, the taste of salt and rock.
But underneath it lay something girlishly needy, embarrassingly seeking. A vulnerability she showed no one else. Only you were allowed such a look into her soul.
"Hm."
She walked backward then, pulling you with her until she hit the hammock. It swayed under the combined weight as she settled, then drew you into her lap, tugging at your hair. “Shhh,” She cooed.
Varang pressed a hand underneath the wrapping of your top, lifting it to kiss the skin there. You’d pierce your nipples months ago, and the bone that settled between the nubs made her mouth water. “Such fear,” she whispered against your damp skin. “But you love me. I see it. I know it.”
She licked a broad wet stripe across the sensitive areola, then drew the tight bud between her mouth, swirling her tongue around the piercing and faintly tugged.
You whined, frowning, fingers finding the ridges of her collarbone. "You always question it."
"Naturally." She nuzzled your shoulder, breathing in the ash still clinging to your skin. Her lips switched to its twin, finally fluttering her eyes close to gently suck, saliva coating your breasts. You grinded against her thigh, pressing your face against her shoulder. “Such a needy little thing, come—”
“Tsahik,”
Yepa stood where the privacy cloth was, eyes cast down. He knew better than to interrupt Varang when she kept you to herself. Her eyes sharpened, fingers pausing where they'd been toying with the piercing. Heat crawled up your neck. You looked away, cheeks burning.
"Speak." She said.
Her hand drifted lower, tracing the edge of your loincloth, circling just above your mound while her mouth pressed dizzying kisses along the curve of your cheek. "Forgive me, Tsahìk," Yepa murmured. "We've spotted a new caravan. The windtraders."
Varang exhaled through her nose. Her touch stilled. For one fleeting moment, she looked at you—something almost apologetic flickering behind her eyes.
Then it was gone.
You made a soft, plaintive sound, fingers curling around her wrist. "Stay." The word came out smaller than you meant it to, and you hated yourself for it. Varang despised weakness. You were weakness.
She pushed your hand away with her usual ease. "Others hunt the meat you eat, Y/n." She didn't look at you again, said it in a cooing tone that made it all the worse.
You rewrapped your chest with fumbling hands, tail lashing hard enough snap at the air. You shoved past Yepa without meeting his eyes, head bowed low.
Not fair. The thought curled bitter in your head. She could refuse you. You could never refuse her.
Around you, the clan stirred with new activity. Warriors readied their ikran, voices risingto prepare. Blades were sharpened, the new demon-weapons brandished with eager hands.
You weren't allowed on raids. Varang forbade it.
So instead you sat on the edge of camp and kicked rocks, watching them disappear into the embers of the sun.
"You're not going?"
You froze mid-motion, glancing back.
Quaritch.
Your frown deepened.
"Varang angry," you said quietly. She’s angry, and doesn’t want you near me. Is what you meant to say. But how could you? He was an idiot. Or maybe it was you, for not knowing how to say it.
You moved to walk past him, but his hand caught your shoulder—firm, four fingers pressing and encompassing most of it.
"So?" He snorted. "She throws a hissy fit and what? Law doesn't apply to me."
They do. Your eyes narrowed. You are one of us now. They apply.
But you didn't say it. Instead, you sighed and looked away, fingers tapping absently against the skin where your heart was underneath. "I…" You hesitated. "Weak. Not strong. Varang worry."
A pause.
"Don't tell," you grumbled.
Quaritch gave a slow nod, tail tracing a lazy arc. He leaned forward, weight shifting onto the balls of his feet. "You ever use a gun?"
You blinked. "Gun…?"
He lifted one of those compact metal bows from his holster, blocky and compact—nothing like the carved wood your people used. "Yeah. A gun. You've seen Varang use it." He jerked his chin toward the distant yurts. "Come on. I'll show you. Just don't blow my tail off."
Your gaze drifted to Varang's yurt, then skyward where the war party had departed hours ago, her Ska'avum among them. She'd be gone until dusk at least. You pressed your lips together.
"Yes. Okay."
.
.
.
The first shot made you jump, ears pressing flat against your head.
"Yeah! Booyah!" Quaritch's hands landed on your shoulders, shaking hard into your frame. "Clear damn shot. You're a natural at this, kid."
He thrust his palm upward, some human gesture you'd never seen before.
You stared at it, confused.
Then lifted yours suspiciously, mirroring the angle.
His hand met yours with a sharp smack.
"High-five. Well—high-four," he amended, grinning wide enough to show molars. His palm found your spine, a push that was encouraging and commanding. "Come on. Again. Let's see if it was a fluke."
He was close now. Close enough that if Varang were here, if she saw—
You swallowed the thought. No. This isn't about Varang.
You adjusted your stance the way he'd shown you: shoulders angled, weight forward, breath held. The target swam into focus. You squeezed.
Bullseye.
Your tail betrayed you, wagging before you could stop it—then his hand cracked against your ass and you squealed. "Ngh!" The hiss tore from your throat, glaring at him. You almost forgot he was an asshole first, friend second.
He was already moving past you, plucking the gun from your slack grip. "And she calls you weak." A scoff. He studied the target, grinning like some prideful mentor. "Feel pretty powerful, huh?"
You nodded slowly, studying the cluster of holes punched through the painted target. When you glanced back, he was counting the rounds with his usual efficiency.
"Think we'll add firearms to your training rotation." He didn't look up. "No point wasting time on that bow sissy-shit when you've got real stopping power available."
You stepped closer, watching his hands work. "What doing?"
"What are you doing," he corrected. "Grammar, kid. Makes me sound like some kind of assh-shat teacher." He whistled. "Anyway, I’m cleanin’ and reassembling. Maintenance. All this volcanic shit clogs the mechanisms. Messes with the equipment."
This was news to you. You paused. "Varang…knows?"
The question landed betwene you two.
His lips peeled back—too much teeth. "Nah." He didn't look up. "Keep it that way."
A secret. You had a secret now. The thought bloomed warm, and Quaritch must have seen it written plain across your face because he chuckled, low and knowing. "You're a little minx, aren't'cha?"
You didn't know what that was, but nodded anyway.
He dug into his pockets again, fingers closing around the crinkled bag. Your hand shot out before you could think to stop it, palm up, giddy.
He caught your wrist to steady it—the tips of his fingers padded in callouses. “You’re spoiled, you know that?” He shook the bag near your ear, grinning. "Never had much of a sweet tooth myself. Spider did, though." A pause. His jaw worked. "I traded my good socks for this."
The silence came. Then he pressed the entire bag into your palm, closing your fingers around it like it was something precious.
"Just keep it." It came out rough, almost embarrassed. "And don’t let the others see." He looked away.
You stared at the bag. Bright red plastic stamped with the strange alien letters from his world. Red. Yellow. Orange. Green. Purple. You traced each color with your eyes before lifting your gaze back at him.
You didn't know what you were thinking.
You kissed his cheek.
Quaritch actually stumbled back half a step. His ears snapped forward, eyes gone wide and startled as a spooked hexapede's. Before he could recover, you pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. You felt reckless, daring. The power that Varang held, you wield it now.
You skittered backward, clutching the candy to your chest, a shy smile blooming despite yourself.
"Thank you, Quaritch," you whispered.
His lips quirked, just a bit. He tilted his head back, pushed air between his teeth in a low whistle that might've been a laugh. "Yeah," he muttered, but you think it was more to himself than you. "Yeah, alright."
You left then, the bag pressed tight against your chest, tail swaying in wide arcs all the way back to the yurt.
Another secret.
.
.
.
Things were different now. You felt different, you supposed.
This shared secret between you and Quaritch had festered into something physical. It lived in the space between breaths, in the pause before he spoke your name.
And Quaritch? Quaritch was all physical.
You couldn't walk past him without a slap to the rear or a pinch to your side, something too boyish for a man his size (and his age, as you liked to remind him). But there it was anyway, that grin splitting his face, the wink that followed. "That's it, baby girl." The words dripped easy, thick as the molasses you once tasted.
The lessons were no different. Or rather—no different in how he touched you now. Instead of sweet candy he'd nudge your lips apart and kiss.
"Say it. Patient."
"Patient."
Quaritch just grinned against your mouth. "Still got that accent. It's cute." Your eyes fluttered shut. You licked away the chapness of his lips, tasted salt and something faintly bitter.
Evening meals were distant, of course. Formal. When Varang sat beside you, eating whatever meal she'd presented—she’d present a kuru, sometimes several, gifts of power and affection—you'd accept with the usual grace. The usual smiles.
And later, after you'd ignored him through dinner and feigned disinterest, Quaritch would return. That all-too-easy smile waiting for you in the dark.
Varang wouldn't know. You were happy with that.
"Stop moving," you grumbled.
You painted the whites and reds against his face in careful strokes, slapping his hands when they wandered.
"It's damn cold," he hissed. But he remained still, huffing through his nose. The pigment was thick, it had to be. Smelling just a bit of crushed minerals, rendered fat, and berries. You had to change the recipe for him, he sweat too much and smeared it everywhere—too impatient to let it dry.
You rolled your eyes. The two of you were tucked beneath the newly constructed yurt. Varang had moved everyone to the RDA base, and Quaritch had been more than eager to accommodate the clan into the facility's sprawling guts. If he wasn't with her, or the strange pink-skins, then he was with you.
"It's cold because you take too long." You swept your thumbs in parallel lines along his cheeks, forming a sharp V that cascaded down the bridge of his nose. The pattern was traditional, though your hand trembled slightly as you worked.
You watched him through your lashes, heat creeping up your neck when you realized he'd been staring back. "What?"
Quaritch clicked his tongue, angling his head low. He pressed his cheek against your palm, the paint smudged just a bit, but you didn’t correct him. "Nothin'... just—sweet is all. You're sweet."
Your fingers drifted to your songcord almost unconsciously, tracing the amber bead you'd added most recently. Inside, suspended in golden resin, a single red skittle.
"I didn't think you'd be so sappy," you murmured, a smile tugging at your mouth.
"Sappy? Now where'd you learn that word?"
"Lyle." You said innocently. “The bald one."
Quaritch grinned, and his hand found your back—thumb pressing the base of your tail. "Course it was. The bastard—"
"Do you think I am a fool?"
Your tail went rigid mid-sway, ears swiveling before the rest of you caught up. You turned, careful, already knowing what you'd find.
Varang stood at the threshold, stripped of her usual paint and accessories. She looked exactly as she had when you were both girls and the forest still held its green—Vulnerable.
"Varang," you started, placating. "We were almost—"
A hiss tore from her throat. Her nose wrinkled, lips peeling back from her teeth. "Do not." She lifted one hand, fingers curling through the air in a white-knuckled clench.
You'd never seen her this furious. Not even since—
Your ears flattened against your skull.
"You do not ask permission, sky-man." She began to circle Quaritch now, and her hands drifted to the twin buugeng blades strapped at her hips.
Quaritch's expression didn't shift. If anything, it settled into something lazier. Bored, almost. He tracked her with his eyes, then let out a low chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "And when have you?"
He rose slowly, joints popping, and your handprint still blazed red across his cheek.
Varang faltered as she eyed the paint. For just a heartbeat—her brows pinched into something wounded—but then she shook her head, and the mask slammed back into place.
"Seems to me, cupcake," Quaritch drawled, stepping into her space, "that you and I are too similar."
His gaze slid to you.
Then his hands found Varang's shoulders, turning her to face you instead. "She don't seem too concerned." His voice dropped rough, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "And I bet she'd take both of us sweetly. Hm?"
Varang stared. Her expression smoothed into something unreadable, eerily calm, yellow eyes locked on yours.
"Have you two bonded?"
Your stomach dropped. "No. Varang, we—"
"Nah." Quaritch's answer came quicker than yours, easier. "We haven't. You can keep that if you want." His lips grazed the curve of Varang's neck, breath hot against the delicate skin there. His hands slid lower, palms molding to her waist, then dipping to the swell of her hips. "If it makes you feel special."
He grinned.
Varang twisted free in one fluid motion, closing the distance between you in two strides. Her hand fisted in your hair, dragging you close enough that you could see every fleck of amber in her yellow eyes. "You smell like him."
Then she kissed you.
Hard.
Her canines caught your lower lip, tugging until you tasted copper. A sound escaped you, swallowed just before it turned pitiful..
Behind you, Quaritch shifted closer. You couldn't see him, but you felt the heat of him, the broad wall of his chest almost brushing your shoulder blades. His hand came down heavy on the curve of your ass, grabbing an absolute fistful.
And you, you felt multiple hands now. Varang's fingers worked the braided top, peeling it free until your breasts were bare beneath her palms. They bounced just a bit, purple nipples perking. Behind you, Quaritch's thumbs traced the curve of your ass before lifting the weight of each cheek. He let them plop down, and groaned.
"Fuck," he muttered, voice dropping to gravel. "Won't you look at that." His knuckles grazed the stripes that contoured around the flesh, mesmerized.
Miles…" You turned your head, the syllable half-formed. Instinct seeked his face, but Varang's fist caught your braids and wrenched you back.
Her teeth found your lower lip.
"Not at him." The growl rumbled against your mouth. "Me."
Quaritch's laugh was low, almost lazy. "Think she likes me better. I ain't so punishing." His palm cracked against your rear—only once, but something purple was already forming. "Say my name again, doll."
"Miles—" But Varang swallowed it, mouth sealing over yours, and she shot him a look that could've drawn blood.
"You ain't playing fair," He had that smile, you knew he did even if you couldn’t see it.
Both hands rose to cradle your jaw, now. Thumbs stroking the jaw where tension pooled. She pressed kisses all over—the corner of your lips, the hollow of your throat, the slope of your shoulder where your scent glands were located. Marking you with her own scent.
"If you can only win by fairness," she whispered, lips brushing your shoulders "you are no true warrior."
Then she kissed you again
Quaritch's mouth twitched. Without warning, he hauled you back against him, fingers sinking into your hips, grinding you into the hard line of his pelvis. "So you wanna play like that?"
Varang pulled back with a hiss, chest rising. She looked at you—just once—then stepped forward. She wore seduction in her hips now, curling her lips, tasting her skin. "Only if you think yourself capable."
"Hm. Challenge accepted." His attention dropped to your chest, dismissive for just a moment before he took another look. He pinched a nub. "Fuck, baby girl. You had these the whole time?"
He flicked the other with his thumb, feeling the bone piercing. Your body jerked, a gasp wriggling out. “O-Oh…” His mouth went lower, descending a hot trail while his hands lazily hooked your loincloth to the side. His calloused fingers found your clit, the rough pad of his thumb circling.
"Miles, please…" Your head fell forward, brows pinching together, and the sound that left you was barely coherent.
Before you, Varang sank to her knees.
You'd never seen her like this—all that fierce pride folded into something softer, reflective of her soul. Her palms smoothed up your thighs, reverent. When she looked up at you through dark lashes, blinking slow, you blushed.
“You beg for him,” She undid your loincloth properly now, throwing it over her shoulder to the fire nearby. “Now you will beg for me” She simply lowered her mouth and licked—a long, flat, possessive stripe from your entrance to your clit, pushing Quaritch’s thumb aside with the force of it.
He only grunted. His fingers traced your ribs, mapping each curve, each rise of skin. Up, then down. Feeling. Always feeling. He nudged your legs apart. Varang needed room, afterall.
She took it.
Varang nudged her face, nuzzling the purple flesh and mouthing your pussy. Suckling the flesh. When she looked up, her eyes were hazy with peace—and if you dared to call it—love. You watched her tail sway behind her. A soft huff escaped you.
She spread your pretty pussy lips with her thumbs, then spat. You watched the silver strand descend, sliding down your slit in complete arousal.
“So pretty,” she cooed. “You like this, yes?”
Her finger brisked along the opening, pinching your folds together. They were undeniably swollen, plump. She always liked how engorged they became when you were aroused. Like a dumpling. She thought.
She pressed one fingertip to the left lip, and watched it bounce back. “Varang.” You pushed your hips forward, pouting.
Both chuckled. “What did I say?” Quaritch mused. “Spoiled. Absolutely spoiled.”
He lifted you—just slightly—and chucked his loincloth aside. You glanced down.
Your mind emptied of everything but his cock.
Your hands flew to his forearms, fingers digging into the muscle there just as your legs kicked in a brief instinctive pedal. “Wait—wait!”
He went still, swallowing. “Somethin’ the matter?” He glanced over your shoulder to look at Varang, who now leaned back on her hands, head cocked into something teasing.
He settled you on his thick thigh instead, tracing numbers over your stomach.
You dragged your gaze back down, helpless. It was… big. Long, thick, veined with ridges that made your mouth water and your lips tremble all the same. The head was a broad, blunt crown, flushed a deep, violent purple, and below, his balls were heavy and full.
A low, involuntary sound escaped you as you gave a tiny, shameful shuffle, the slick heat of you grinding against the muscle of his thigh. You bit your lower lip until you tasted the copper hint of blood.
“Well… it’s…”
“She’s never taken a man.” Varang’s murmur was matter-of-fact. Her eyes shifted to you, her smile softening.
For once, he seemed surprised. “What? But you and her have—”
“I have never allowed a man to touch her.” Varang’s scoffed, as if the idea was ridiculous. “Any who’ve tried I’ve killed myself.” She leaned forward now, before going on a crawl. Her eyes, now heavy-lidded, inspected his cock.
She bit her own plump lip, then leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to the tip. Her eyes fluttered shut as she did it, and above you, Quaritch hissed—no doubt pleased.
“It doesn’t bite, Y/n.” Varang stroked your trembling thigh, her touch gentling, before she turned back. She opened her mouth, suckling the broad head, wetting it thoroughly, then licked a long, torturous stripe from root to tip. The sound was obscenely wet.
“Ngh, fuck…” The groan was torn from Quaritch’s chest, you never thought you’d hear such a sound from him.
It felt right, strangely.
He buried his face against the junction of your neck and shoulder, his arms locking around you, binding you to the solid wall of his heat. His breaths came in uneven puffs. His large, warm hands splayed across your stomach, fingers pressing in rhythmic, almost absent-minded taps. “Not so much now…” he managed, voice strangled.
Varang only scoffed around him, the vibration earning another jerk of his hips. She bobbed her head, taking him deeper, her cheeks hollowing. “This is not for you,” she shot back, pulling off with a wet sound. “So weak. Cannot even last.”
That earned a guttural grunt. He fluttered his eyes open, the yellow within them hollowed by the black of his pupil.
He turned his head and bit the shell of your ear. “You listenin’ to her?” he hummed. You felt his pout. “So mean to me. But you ain’t, darlin’. You’re good. All good and sweet stuff.” He nuzzled, then placed a softer, startling kiss on your cheek.
You both watched, mesmerized, as Varang returned to her work. Your own hands reached and took what she couldn’t. He groaned then, thighs bouncing, dragging against your clit.
“Ngh,” You whined.
Finally, she withdrew with a slick, echoing pop. She slowly unraveled her tongue, giving one last lon lick from across his shaft.
“There.” Her cooed. “Nice and wet for you to sit on, my beloved. A proper throne.”
“T_Thank you, Varang.”
You thought it was so strange, how someone like Quaritch could be so… gentle at times. His hands found the back of your knees, planting a squeeze against the delicate hinge. Then, he pressed your cheek against his.
“You ready, buttercup?”
You felt the vibration of his voice against your back, rumbling from his chest to your bones. He was like that, of course—all consuming.
Your eyes found themselves downward before you managed the smallest nod. “Y-Yes.”
It was all he needed. “Good girl.” The praise sent warmth all around your body. “Knew you could.” He pat your thighs.
Then he lifted. It was an easy strength he had, lifting as if it were nothing. He shuffled, bringing your knees to your breasts, cocking his head to the side to see. Instinctively, your hands flew behind you, fingers searching for the anchor of his shoulders.
You felt it first, the wet head jutting against your cunt. The broad slick head grazing your slit, parting it just enough to make it audible. Your pussy clenched, and you drew in your breath.
“Shh… relax.” He cooed. “I won’t move until you want to.”
He began the slow work of getting you used to it. His hips rolled in a shallow, circular tease, moving his hips so his dick coated itself with your slick.
Then, with a controlled shift, he gathered both your knees in the vice of one formidable arm, the other hand wrapping around the base of his shaft.
A groan, raw and deep, tore from his chest as he notched himself at your entrance.
Varang watched, transfixed at the sight.
He pushed.
The burn was instant.
Your eyes flew wide, seeing nothing and everything. “Big—it’s big, Miles—” You babbled, already trying to claw away.
He grunted, and his teeth found the end of your flickering ear. “The more you squirm, the more it’ll hurt. Shh… shh, it’ll be okay, sugar.”
You tried to obey—really you did, but you couldn’t help the tears that flowed down in wet fat blobs. “Thats it.” He settled you down slow, inch by inch. “See? Its not so—Fuck!”
Varang pushed your hips down, and naturally you screamed, suddenly impaled. Miles, caught off guard, bucked upward with a startled hiss, his ears pinning flat against his skull. Varang’s giggle was a light, airy thing that quickly boiled over into a full-throated laugh.
“So weak,” she snarled, the sweetness evaporating. She patted your trembling thighs before pushing them wider, folding you open and giving herself a perfect, obscene view of either sex.
“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” Miles breathed.
Your belly was full of him. A distinct, visible bulge swelled at your lower tummy. Your cunt was stretched to a painful pink halo around the thick blue of his cock. You just breathed, glancing down—at her, at him.
“Ngh… j-just go…. Please, Miles.”
The words left you in spent sigh, so fragile.
He shuddered where he held you—and nodded. “Alright, buttercup.” He pressed a single fat kiss to the crown of your head, then moved.
Miles Quaritch did nothing by half-measures. His hands locked around the curve of your hips, fingers biting into flesh as he pulled you down and drove himself up. You swore you could feel the tip bristle against your cervix.
“Oh… fuck.” The curse was low, a rumble you absorbed through your spine. “So fuckin’ tight.”
The force of him made your world condense to sensation. To the deep, stretching fullness, the slap of skin, the dizzying bounce of your breasts. One of his palms slid up to capture a peak—holding it to a squeeze.
And then, because he relished in it, he buried his face against your shoulder, his breath coming in delicious puffs. You could feel every stifled groan turn into a grunt, only to dissolve into a moan.
He likes this. He likes me. You blushed.
Varang shifted closer. Her cool fingers traced the sweat-slicked tension of his balls, cupping the heavy weight before her tongue swept over your clit.
You squealed. “Oh!” You pressed both hands over her head, eyes wide.
“You look so pretty, Y/N,” she murmured, her voice a honeyed smoke against your fevered skin. “So perfect, split open like this.” You heard the rustle of her loincloth, the wet sound of her own fingers working between her legs, the slick rhythm of her thumb on her clit.
Her moan was low, and the vibration of it against your most sensitive nerve sent pure pleasure tearing through your core.
“I love you—” The confession was a needy thing, meant for both, owned by neither. But they knew, you were sure they did. “I’m…ah…!”
Miles stole most of your speech, dragging your hips to meet his punishing pace, folding your body to fit him deeper. The angle was brutal, perfect. “Fuck. Gonna cum inside this pussy,” he growled. “Gonna flood you.”
Varang’s mouth left you with a soft pop. “No,” she hissed. “You will not.”
He laughed, somehow teasing and joyful…maybe a bit disbelieving. “Fuck yeah, I will. Gonna pump this tight cunt full. Gonna fuck a baby right into her.” He was sneering at her, a direct challenge even as his hips began to lose their rhythm, succumbing to a ragged, urgent pounding.
“Thrones do not talk, Quaritch.”
“T-This one does.” A stutter from him, a victory for her.
You could feel it. The ache of release. His balls drew up tight against you. Varang felt it too. Her hand tightened around a ball sack, vise-like warning.
He hissed. “Agh—Shit! Woman, don’t you—!”
And then you clenched. Not a voluntary act, your inner muscles clenching around him in a series of frantic, milking pulses.
A broken yelp escaped you as you came, turning liquid and mindless around his huge dick. Now he was trapped: between Varang’s iron hand and your sweet, convulsing vice.
“Ngh—Christ!” His whole body locked, eyes rolling back in a spasm.
Varang moved, she wouldn’t allow him. She hauled you off him, a gasp torn from your lips at the sudden emptiness, and her fist was around him, stroking, pumping, directing. His release shot in thick, pearlescent ropes across her cheek, her chin, the proud arch of her neck.
She blinked slowly, unimpressed. A single, sticky strand dripped onto her collarbone. She caught it on a finger, flicked it away with utter disdain. “You will not get her pregnant,” she stated, and it was final.
Miles was a spent force, chest heaving. He let out a winded puff, then a low, sated laugh. One eye slid open, crinkled with admiration. “You’re evil,” he rasped, pulling your boneless form against his solid thigh. He nuzzled into your hair, both hands coming up to weigh your breasts, holding you to him as if claiming spoils.
You on the other hand were dazed, trying to remember how to breathe.
Varang scoffed. “Well.” In one smooth motion, she took your wrists, pulling you from Mile’s slackened grip toward her. He yielded with a grunt, shifting heavily on the mat, already feeling exhaustion in his bones.
“Our turn,” Varang said. And she smiled, a true sweet thing.
You blinked. “...Uh… What?”
She laid you back on the woven mat, the fibers imprinting on your sweat-slick skin. Her loincloth fell away. “You haven’t made me come yet,” she pouted. “It’s no fair.”
You offered a weak, sheepish smile. “Let me—Oofmp!”
She pushed you flat, and climbed over you. “Shhh…” Her thigh brushed your cheek, then she settled her weight, the hot, musky scent of her arousal enveloping you. She sank down onto your waiting mouth with a soft, shuddering moan.
Then she glanced over at Miles, already snoring softly. She scoffed, rolling her eyes, and her hips began a slow, commanding grind against your lips.
“Weak.”
A/n- I tried challenging myself to 5000... It was not 5000 it was 8000 . I should be called the slow-burn queen. How people write 3000 or less... I wish for their skills. Anyway—have a Merry Christmas everyone! Remember to drink water and eat well!
Lotus- Aang adores pulling you into his lap, legs wrapped around his waist while he leans against the headboard or pillows. He can hold you close, bury his face in your neck or breasts, and look into your eyes as he guides your hips slowly, his hands roaming on your back, ass, and thighs. He’ll airbend soft breezes to tease your nipples or clit if he’s feeling like teasing you. There’s lots of kissing, forehead touches, and “I love you” as he grinds deep. When he gets close, he’ll tighten his arms around you and starts moving harder and faster before you both cum together.
Cowgirl- Sokka loves lying back and watching you take control. Hands behind his head or gripping your thighs and ass, he’ll guide your pace while staring up at your bouncing tits and flushed face with a cocky grin. “That’s it, ride me just like that… gosh, you look so good.” He thrusts up to feel you closer, changing the angle, or lets you grind on him until your legs start shaking. Perfect for him to play with your clit, suck on your breasts, or just enjoy the view. When he can’t take it anymore he’ll flip you over and hike your ankles over his shoulders.
Prone Bone- Zuko loves pressing your face down into the mattress, covering your body with his as he thrusts deep from behind. His chest to your back, mouth on your neck and shoulders, one hand gripping your wrist while the other rests beside your head. This position lets him go hard and deep, He’ll growl praises against your ear like “So tight for me… take it all”, he’ll bite your shoulder, and lose himself in the pleasure . The closeness with you drives him wild. He can grind against your ass between thrusts, making sure you feel every inch of him.
Pairing: Prince/Firelord!Geto x Belly Dancer!Reader x Prince Zuko
Synopsis: You are hired as the live entertainment for the Fire Nation's annual celebration as a belly dancer, groomed to dance for the elite and wealthy. You entertain with your body for a living and you're happy to do so, finding purpose and enjoyment in your dancing. Unbeknowst to you, two certain Firelord brothers have found enjoyment in your dancing as well and they are prepared to show you one hot night within the privacy of a bedroom.
Warnings: 18+; No Curse/Avatar AU; Brother!Geto x Brother!Zuko; Incest (but not really cuz they not f*cking each other lol); Threesome; Seduction; Body Worship; Curvy!Reader; Belly Dancing; Stripping; Dom!Geto x sub!Reader x Switch!Zuko; Dual Pussy Eating; Sharing Is Caring; Dual Blowjob; Deepthroating; Facefucking; Spit Play; Doggystyle; Mating Press; Breeding; Raw Creampies; Mild Power Play; Reader Cums 3x; Aftercare
Word Count: 9.1k
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer's Note: This is my first installment for @madamechrissy's crossover collab!! Y'all please go give her ALL the love, grace & praise because she deserves it!! This woman is just as amazing just as a person as she is a writer & I'm honored that she puts up with my horny ideas lmaoo enjoy!!! <3 -Jazz
Credits: Zuko x Geto fanart found on Pinterest! If you know the artist, PLEASE tag me so I can properly credit them! Divider by @cursed-carmine!
You stand at the threshold of the master bedroom belonging to the Firelord, Prince Zuko, the polished mahogany doors staring back at you.
Dozens of Fire Nation guards, tasked with protecting the royals, stand outside against the wall, two on either side of you. They were the ones who guided you here, telling you that the Firelords requested to see you tonight.
You have every assumption as to why. It isn't a rarity or unaccustomed to you for royal members to request for you after hiring you for a party. You are a dancer, after all...with some other "skills" on the side that you use to your advantage.
While you know how to play the game among the royal court and have no problem refusing to spend the night with any royals after performing for them at one of their grand parties, you would be lying if you said you didn't want to be alone with the Firelords for the night.
You have been around them for some time now. As the royal belly dancer, groomed to dance for the elite and the wealthy, you were bound to make the acquaintance of the Fire Nation Family at some point...including the Firelord brothers. Both calm, poised, mysterious, and devilishly handsome.
They have been on your radar for a long time, filling your endless nights with hot fantasies of the two of them. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes together. Entangled limbs, your fingertips caressing their muscles, their tongues licking stripes across your skin.
You long to tear down that wall of mystery and restraint that the brothers have meticulously built around themselves. Especially that Zuko. He is quiet and stoic, only speaking when required, preferring to talk with his actions instead. Geto Suguru is more open, striking either fear or intrigue into anyone with his charming smile and cunningness.
And now here you are, standing right outside of the brother's doors prepared to greet them. The twirling in your stomach is not of fear but of anticipation, wondering where the night will bring you. You bring up your fist and lightly knock, polite but firm. "Enter," a deep, silky voice commands. Geto's voice.
The voice that has commanded attacks on enemies and brought you to orgasm so many times. Swallowing hard, you twist the doorknob and enter the master bedroom. It is a large, wide space with stone walls and windows overlooking the courtyard and Fire Nation, the summer breeze and afternoon sun pouring into the room.
On one side sits a large king-sized bed topped with pillows of all sizes and arrays of gold and red. The same as the carpets and curtains softly swaying in the summer evening. Geto Suguru, the oldest brother, sits in the middle of the room on the carpeted floor surrounded by a slew of expensive pillows and blankets.
He sits at a knee-level table surrounded with delicacies of all kinds, granite teacups with a brewing teapot, and a bottle of fireflower juice spiked with cinnamon, one of the most expensive bottles of alcohol in all the land. Geto is draped in a fine red robe adorned in intricate gold stitching at the flaps and black pants, his feet bare and black locks cascading down his muscular back.
He turns to look when you enter, his violet eyes piercing a hole into you. The butterflies in your tummy swarm, making your heart pound furiously in your chest.
“You required my services, Your Highness?” you ask, trying to keep your voice level and steady. Alas, it shakes a bit, coming out breathless at the sight of the handsome man. He gives you a small smile that is like a smack in the face. “Yes, little dancer. Come; have a seat. You may not be so formal with me. Call me Suguru."
You blink, unsure of how to reply. It is rare that a royal wants someone who is not within the court to be formal. His smile deepens, humored. “You look at me as if I’m tricking you. I can assure you that my father is nowhere within these four walls.” He then turns to the left side of the room where the light doesn't reach. “Isn’t that right, brother?”
You turn your head and that is when you see Zuko sitting there on a lounging sofa, wearing a black robe to blend in with the darkness. You can just see that his hair is also out, cascading in black waves down his back, and he is sipping some tea. You jump, placing a hand on your beating heart. “Oh! Prince Zuko, forgive me. I did not know you were here.”
Zuko doesn't reply; he only stares, somehow staring right through you. Both of his eyes render you speechless—the wounded one included. Many do not regard Zuko the same way they do Geto due to his burn scar, but you have always thought the disfigurement was quite sexy.
Geto chuckles, pouring himself some fireflower juice. “Don’t mind him. Zuko can be an enigma when he wants to be…which is all the time.” He smirks when his brother gives him a sharp glare from across the room. “Quiet, Geto. Don’t make me request your removal from this room.”
Geto smirks at you, unbothered by his brother's heated threat. “That’s code for “don’t make me murder you”,” he chuckles. “Nice, isn’t he?” He gives you a wink, jutting his chin at you. "To what may we call you? Though we know your name, we want you to feel comfortable."
Comfortable. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Many men always say this when you're within the confines of their bedroom, only wanting you relaxed so they may take advantage. "Y/N," you reply, giving the brothers a respectful bow as you shut the door behind you. It shuts with a click, making your stomach flip.
Zuko nods over at the table where his brother sits. “You may sit. Plenty of room.” Geto hums in agreement, a flame flickering from his fingertip as he lights himself a pipe filled with tobacco leaves. The smoke wafts through the air as you slowly walk across the room, feeling their eyes on you.
Though you are covered by a shawl draped over your shoulders, it is mesh, which means your midrif top showing off your stomach and long skirt that doesn't do much to hide your curves. Both red and decorated in gold stitching, dripping in gold beads that clink whenever you twist, turn, or move your hips and stomach when you dance.
You don't feel uncomfortable the way you used to whenever men ogled at your moves. If anything, you feel powerful. But now, under the brothers' hot gazes as you sit at the table, you feel exposed. Your layers peeled back like a fruit.
Geto motions down at the array of finger food before you: cheeses, dates, crusted breads, fruits covered in chocolate. “Would you care for a bite? Perhaps a drink? I have tea, water, wine…perhaps something stronger?” He eyes the bottle of fireflower juice sitting next to him.
You choose wine to loosen yourself up, grateful for the crisp taste as it slides down your throat once Geto pours you a goblet. “Thank you for your invitation, My Lords.
Geto shrugs like it's nothing, smoke billowing attractively from between his pink lips. The bottom lip is piercing with a small ring, unfortunately drawing your attention to his mouth. “Of course. You needed it after that performance you put on, I’m sure.” You act shy and modest, staring down at your wine. “Oh, it’s nothing. For me, that was a simple dance. I have done plenty more complex and strenuous.”
You were hired tonight to perform for the Fire Nation's Royal Family and their close party, dancing among the sounds of the drums and guitars as fire eaters surrounded you, swallowing swords emblazoned with flames. The flames were hot, but you were hotter. You danced like the heat didn't bother you, sweat sliding over your damp skin and curves as you winded and swirled your hips.
As you danced, surrounded by all of the royals, your eyes caught the brothers' gazes through the flicker of the flames, orange and red flickering across their handsome faces. Their unyielding gazes spurred you on, making your hips move faster and your body slither like a snake. You are famous among the royals for your dance moves and you were guaranteed to make them remember you.
Starting with the Firelord brothers. “Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that," Geto chuckles. "It’s important to care for your body. Especially if you are dancing for royalty.” He winks across the room at Zuko. “And since my brother adores your dancing so.”
“Shut up, Geto,” he growls. “I do not!” You turn towards the younger brother, a pit in your stomach at his words. “You don’t?” you ask, cocking your head at him. Zuko realizes his mistake and quick tries to backtrack, his cheeks hot with a flush. “N-No, I meant…I didn’t mean—“
Geto tosses his head back and laughs, the sound oh-so attractive and pulling a smile out of you. “A catch, isn’t he? He can lead the Fire Nation Army into attack on the frontlines, but he can’t even form a sentence in front of a pretty woman.”
Zuko snarls, teeth bared, gleaming in the twilight. “You’re testing me, brother. I’m about this close to throwing a fire ball at your head.” Geto mockingly gasps, putting a dramatic hand to his broad chest. “And scare the lady? How else will you find yourself a mate?”
You quickly try to stamp out the fire quickly growing between the brothers. “I am used to violence, I assure you both. And this is quite tame for me.” You turn to Zuko with an inviting smile, knowing that he is the shyer, quieter one. “Will you join us, Your Highness?”
Zuko looks surprised at the offer, his brows raising slightly. He shoots a look at Geto who nods, smirking quietly at his younger brother. “Just as long as my brother knows to keep his words wise and his brain intact," he grumbles. Geto chuckles as Zuko rises, barefoot and quiet as he strides over to join you at the table.
He sits with Geto on his knees across from you, pouring himself some more tea. Geto passes Zuko the pipe to which the young prince gags at, putting it aside on the table. “Come; let us toast." Geto raises his glass of fireflower juice high, his eyes shining. "To a night of wonders and surprises.”
“Cheers," you giggle, clinking your goblet with the brothers before taking a sip of your crisp wine. The sliver of afternoon sun has vanished now and the moon has taken the sun's place, leaving the room shining in a white glow. “Did you enjoy tonight’s festivities, Y/N?” Geto asks, his voice soft as silk. It makes you shudder in pleasure. “As much as I could. It’s hard to do much when you’re being ordered to be on your feet for most of the night.”
The older brother chuckles, taking another puff of his pipe as Zuko silently sips his tea. “Well, here you will not have that. I’m sure your feet must be sore.” You think you see both brothers' eyes flicker down to your soft feet and French-tipped toes, manicured and pretty, but you pass it off as a trick of the moonlight.
“No, you misunderstand. I do not hark on sore feet. It comes with my work and I would not give up being a dancer for anything.” You mean the words to the bottom of your heart, but Geto chuckles, thinking it is a joke. “For the money, I’m sure.” You smile, humoring him. “The pay is just the tip of the iceberg for me. I only wish to entertain others with my body. To dance is my—“
“Passion,” Zuko finishes, surprising you and Geto with his voice. “That’s rare.” Geto agrees, his gaze softening. “Mm. Quite rare. Very admirable. And quite sweet of you.”
You shiver at the brothers' praise, feeling a flood of endorphins that you've never felt from any compliment before. For a few minutes, you sip your wine in silence, letting the alcohol take over. “How did I make you feel?” you boldly ask. “When I danced?” The brothers look surprised at the random question at first, but Geto answers nonetheless. “Enchanted. Like you were putting me under a spell that I didn’t want to escape."
His violet eyes capture you between the wisps of smoke billowing from his lush lips. You force yourself to focus on his face instead. "You flatter me, sir," you giggle. Then you turn to Zuko who is silent, unmoving. "What about you, Your Highness? Did I please you as much as your brother with my moves?"
You didn't mean for it to sound so suggestive, and Zuko catches on, his cheeks growing red. "Does it matter that much to you?" he asks, not unkindly but just confused.
You nod, keeping your kind, welcoming smile. "Of course! If I'm hired to dance for the Fire Nation's princes and their court, it's my duty to entertain and please." Again: very suggestive. Perhaps you're throwing down the hammer a little too hard, but the brothers' quiet seduction and mingling scents of floral (Zuko) and cloves (Geto) is driving you to the brink of insanity.
"Oh, he was entertained," Geto smirkingly replies, sliding a suggestive look at Zuko. "And very pleased. Weren't you, brother?" Zuko elbows his brother in the side, earning a choked chuckle in response. But realizing you're waiting for an answer, he gulps and regains composure. "You were...very nice," he mildly replies into his tea cup. "I have seen belly dancing before, but not the way you do it. Where did you learn?"
You smile and explain to him about your home and culture. You tell them that you learned from your grandmother who taught your mother and older sister. You tell them that belly dancing is considered an important dance within your culture, using your body to make art. The two listen intently, making you feel shy despite dancing for a living.
"You flatter me too, Your Highness," you chuckle, staring through your lashes at Zuko. "Your kindness is a gift and to dance for you is an honor." Zuko blushes hot red at your sweetness, averting his gaze. "The pleasure is all ours," Geto replies with a twinkle in his eye. "Though we are leaving one thing out as to why you're here."
You sip more wine, letting the buzzing, warm feeling grow. "Oh? What is that?" Geto gives Zuko a knowing look, but the younger brother ignores him, instead pouring more tea. Your heart pounds and the heat you felt growing intensifies, making the room feel tense.
"Forgive us for coming off as nothing more than dogs, but I'm afraid we loved your dancing so much that we preferred to have it in private." Geto pauses, puffing on his pipe, sizing you up with his eyes.
You ignore the way your body sizzles at his confession. You were hoping you were here for that reason...among others. "You want me to dance for you?" you ask. "Right here?"
Geto sits back against the pillows, exposing a sliver of his abs to you. "If you wish. Though we commanded your presence, we want you to be comfortable here with us. That body is too perfect to be forced to do anything it doesn't wish to."
His words are made of saccharine and silk, making you buzz like you just drank a whole bottle of wine. Though Zuko doesn't say anything, his look, so intimate and personal, tells you everything. They truly mean what they say. If they wanted more from you, they would've taken it by now, you realize.
So you smile, letting your walls fall completely down. "Of course. I am at your service, Your Highnesses," you purr. "You have made me very comfortable without needing to, so who am I to refuse your command? However, I do not have any music."
"Geto can play guitar," Zuko replies. He snaps at his older brother, impatient. "Play something. Now." Geto only smiles, humored by his brother's flip switch in attitude. "Oooo, someone's desperate to see some more moves. Did you think the Firelord would be so demanding?"
"Yes, I did," you giggle as Geto rises to his feet, going to fetch his guitar. "But I am sure you both are to a degree. I would think the Firelords would be if you get your way all the time."
Geto returns with a small guitar and sits cross-legged at the table, placing it in his lap. "Oh, little dancer, we get our way all the time. And you will get yours if you continue to move the way you do." His seductive words cause a trail of heat to snake down to between your thighs, but you ignore it. Not yet.
"How will you have me, My Lords?" you purr, unable to keep the sex out of your voice. Geto elbows Zuko, letting him talk. The young prince's eyes bore into yours, intense and fiery. "Stand right there," he softly commands, nodding at the window. "In the moonlight."
You rise to your feet and slink over to the window, standing in the sliver of moonlight serving as your spotlight. Then the music begins, Geto's fingers stroking and strumming the guitar strings the way you picture him doing to your body. The music is soft with a bit of Indian scales added to it. "Dance for us, love," he encourages. "However you wish."
And so you dance. Under the silvery moon and the hot gazes of the princes, you wind your hips, flip your hair, and move your stomach so impressively like it's made of water. You twist, grind, and sway, letting the music control you. When the guitar strums get bolder and faster, you move with them, your movements more intense but still controlled.
The watchful eyes of your princes encourage you, pushing your aching muscles and winding hips to move faster until completion. You reach the same peak you would with an orgasm, feeling a tightness in your core that bursts until you're coating in explosive pleasure that makes you gasp. You hit a pose, raising your arms high as you face the princes, coating from head to toe in sweat.
Geto stops playing and applauds you while Zuko sits still as a statue, gobsmacked. "Beautiful," he murmurs. You smile at the praise, bowing. "Did that please you, My Lords?" you ask, out of breath and pumped full of arousal. You can feel your slick travel down between your thighs and you clamp them shut in an effort to hide the scent of your slick.
The aura in the room has shifted, leaving a tense feeling in the air that the brothers feel too. You can tell from how rigid they both sit as if trying to seem normal but miserably failing. Geto is the only one who comes clean, moving the guitar from his lap to reveal his bulge under his robe. "Yes, lovely...a little too much. I am sure you can see it."
His eyes slide over to Zuko and sure enough, the younger prince is sporting a hard cock under his slacks as well. "Oh," you sigh, your eyes glued to their bulges. "Your Highnesses..." You stare, unashamed and so unproper. And not caring one bite.
"F-Forgive me," Zuko stammers, covering his hard-on with a pillow as he madly blushes. "You can leave if you don't like this. I'm not usually like this." He looks ashamed and shy, averting his eyes from yours.
But you shake your head, mouth practically watering. "It's alright. You're just making me blush." And quite wet. You can't remember the last time your pussy has felt this tingly and open, waiting for some attention. Geto raises a brow at you, catching onto your game. "Oh? And why is that?" he asks, his voice much deeper than usual.
Zuko turns to you, his attention once again pulled back to you. You stare at both, unable to hide your want anymore. "Perhaps you're not the only one who's been enchanted," you whisper. "Maybe I'm feeling this fire too."
Silently, the two brothers share a look and finally, they rise to their feet. Zuko drops the pillow, revealing his bulge again, and is the first to make his way over to you. You feel wobbly and unsteady as he strides towards you, all muscle and discipline under his silk robe, standing a whole head taller than you.
But when he finally nears you, you are neither intimidated or frightened. If anything, you are oh-so aroused and attracted to his height and strength. He places his fists at his sides, his muscles tense, jaw working. "I want to touch you," he hoarsely confesses. "I want to...kiss you. Will you let me?"
He dares to finally touch you, placing his hand in yours. You swallow hard as his long fingers lace through yours, just as Geto comes up behind you. It is sudden and silent, making for a great sneak attack. All you feel is his dick pressing into your backside, hard and hot, making your brain muddy. You turn to Zuko with an answer on your tongue, your pussy throbbing impatiently. "I—Oh!" you gasp before your face is being forced to turn to the side and Geto's lips are on yours, his fingers on your cheek.
Prince Geto kisses like a dream. A wet dream, that is. His lips are soft and spiked from the fireflower juice, but they are also wet and supple, his tongue sliding across yours. You kiss him back, your lips moving together in a heated dance, soft moans traveling between you. Zuko watches, enraged. "Hey, asshole! You said we were sharing her, remember?"
Geto chuckles against your lips, pulling away with a hooded look your way. "Sorry, brother, but you were too slow. I couldn't wait to have these lips any longer." His thumb gently massages your bottom lip, nearly sending you through the ceiling."That kiss was meant for your brother, Your Highness," you giggle. "Although that was quite a kiss."
Geto smiles pridefully, his hands finding your hips. "What can I say? I aim to please, little one." He leans in to steal another, but Zuko beats him to it, turning your chin to face him. "I kiss way better," he mutters before he sweeps your lips up in a kiss. He is no longer the shy, stoic man you met earlier; now, the man in his place is bold and unabashed as he kisses you down, making you melt beneath his lips.
Geto watches his brother kiss you as he sandwiches you between himself and Zuko, hard muscle pressed against soft curves. "Mmm, you feel so fucking good," he groans, his hands caressing your curves. "For so long, we've watched you. Craved you. Just wanted to keep you to myself."
Zuko eyes him from over your head as he pulls away from kissing you, your taste on his lips. "Don't get ahead of yourself, brother. You're in MY room." You smile at their little rivalry, placing a hand on both of their broad chests. "You may keep me," you giggle. "We have tonight, don't we?" Geto looks surprised at your agreement, thoughtfully stroking your sides. "Is that because you want us to? Or because you want to please us? Be honest, little dancer."
His big hand cups your chin as he kisses you once more, the scent of tobacco wafting off of him in intoxicating waves. Zuko peppers your neck in kisses, overstimulating you in the best way possible to the point where you're gasping and panting for air when his older brother pulls away. "I want it too," you confess.
How can you not? Every kiss, touch, and word from the brothers are like the strongest hits of a drug. You crave more of them, selfishly. You want to be the one who says that you danced and had a night of endless sex with the Firelord brothers, pleasing them with your body in every way possible.
Zuko smiles against your neck and Geto gives you a devastatingly pretty grin, overjoyed at your confession. He takes your hands and presses his lips to your knuckles, making your stomach flip. "Then lay down and let us explore you. Pleasing you will please us."
And you believe him. Plus, the idea of the Firelord brothers being two givers and pleasers is something you definitely want to explore more of. Two handsome princes who would like to please YOU, a homely dancer girl, because it gets them off? You'd be an idiot to refuse this!
Zuko anchors your attention back to him with his soft lips and nimble fingers caressing your body, running up and down your stomach. "Will you let us touch you?" he murmurs, a plea in his tone. You grasp one of his hands, clamping it tightly against your body, not wanting him to let go. "Yes," you whisper. "Please touch me."
You twist around to kiss the younger prince, his surprised moans swallowed by your wine-spiked tongue. Geto chuckles, taking a handful of your ass in his big, calloused hands. "Such sweet begging. And such a sweet body too." Together, the brothers share your body, their hands indulging in your curves the way you have only dreamed of. You usually swallow back cringes whenever a man touches you, but them? It's nothing but shivers and sensations that make you want to melt. "Oh," you sigh, unable to utter anything but mere words.
As Zuko busies himself kissing your neck and breasts (without taking off your top, of course, because he's a gentleman), Geto manages to slip some of your skirt down to expose your hip dips and the curve of your spine. "A-Ah," you moan, your hips bucking into Zuko as Geto kisses down your stomach, his fingers playing with your hips and gliding down your sides to your thighs.
He stares up at you and the way your back curves as your head tilts back, your hair cascading down like a sweet-smelling river. "You like that, pretty?" he teases. "You want me to go lower?" His hand slides under your skirt and you gasp when you feel his thick fingers caress you between your thighs, right over your damp panties. Arousal explodes like a firework inside of you and you can no longer bear the foreplay anymore.
"Yes, please," you whisper. Your voice is soft and breathless; needy. Just what the royal brothers want. Together, they kneel and pull up your skirt, exposing your thong and bare thighs underneath. They groan at the sight of your asscheeks looking so plump wedged between the tight thong. "Oh, fuck," Zuko softly moans, just above a shudder.
"Goddamn!" Geto gasps, staring mesmerized at the slick dripping down your thighs. "Look at how wet she is, brother. All for me." His tongue juts out to lick your inner thigh, giving you a taste of the cool metal of his tongue piercing. Zuko's eyes cut over to his brother, sharp and irritated. "You mean all for us. Don't play with me right now, Suguru."
Geto smirks, gently suckling on your thigh just to hear you moan. "My bad, brother. It's just so much fun teasing you. We will share this sweet pussy of hers and make her cum her brains out." He stares up at you, eyes twinkling. "That sound good to you, little one?"
So inviting. So considerate. So in tune with your body and your pleasure. Nothing has ever sounded better. So you lay down among the soft, luxurious pillows and allow the brothers to split your thighs open beneath your skirt, groaning at the sight of your lace thong so soaked through the fabric to the point where you are dripping wet.
Geto dares to pull the tiny article of fabric down your legs, exposing your pussy, puffy with arousal and glistening with your nectar. Some of it coats your inner thighs and the slit of your asshole, making you bite your lip as the summer breeze hits your sensitive pussy lips. "Ooo, look at her, brother," Geto murmurs, mesmerized by your slick. "So much here for us to share. We must indulge and—"
"I go first," Zuko cuts in before diving face first into your pussy. You gasp, your hand instantly grasping his long black locks as his soft lips mash with yours between your soft thighs, toned from years of dancing. "Oh!" you gasp, eyes bugging at the pleasure. "M-My Lord, that's s-so good! Oh, fuck yes!"
Zuko is quite a wonder at eating pussy. He does it as if he loves it, moaning as his tongue sends lightning strikes across your clit. Geto watches on, knelt beside his brother with a disapproving frown. "So much for sharing," he mutters. "Don't I get a little taste?"
Zuko looks irked by the mere thought of sharing you, but still, he scoots over an inch to allow some space for Geto. "Fine, but just stay out of my way." Then he goes right back to slipping his tongue between your sticky, wet pussy lips, drawing moans from deep in your chest out of you.
Geto smirks, peppering your right inner thigh in wet kisses, his fingers pressing into the muscle as he spreads it away from your pussy. "You're just worried that I'll make her cum before you do. Don't you know pierced tongues do it better?"
Moments later, you are writhing, bucking, and twisting like you're experiencing an exorcism on the princes' pillows and in their hands clamped tight on your thighs and under your ass as their tongues slash and skate hungrily along your pussy. Their tongues slash along your slit, alternating between your dripping hole and your clit buzzing with pleasure and all kinds of sensations.
When Zuko slides his tongue inside of you, Geto sucks your clit, moaning as he does so. They totally devour you whole, the lewd sounds of their fat, wet tongues swirling between your thighs. Their faces are pressed flush against each other, cheek to cheek, as they give you two tongues to lose your mind over...and you do. "Oh, fuck!" you cry out, gripping the pillows beneath you. "God, My Lords, yes! More please! Don't stop!"
Geto pulls away from your clit to smile, his violet eyes drinking in the way you massage your tits and tweak your nipples over your top. "You hear that, brother? She loves my mouth on that pretty clit."
Zuko growls as he pulls his tongue out of your pussy, the muscle sticking with your juices. "You sure that isn't because my tongue is deep inside of her?" So the brothers turn to you, expecting the truth."Tell me, little one: do you like my tongue or my brother's?" Geto asks in his silky voice as he rips your top down, exposing both of your precious, full tits to them.
"Both," you moan, surprised you can even speak. "Both of you are making me feel so good!" The brothers smile, satisfied with your answer. "Mmm, nice answer, baby," Geto hums. "Perhaps you'd like this tongue a bit lower?"
And then his fat, pierced, royal tongue is sliding down between your asscheeks, licking and sucking greedily at the tiny hole. Zuko begins to suck and lick on your clit now, humming as he takes the tiny rosebud into his mouth and does wonders to it, his mouth made of magic.
"Oh, my God!" you groan, your fingers lacing through their long, silky locks. Your back arches off of the floor, your body totally at their mercy. The vibrations of Geto's chuckle in your ass make you shudder, every sensation like a tidal wave of pleasure. "Mmm, naughty girl. Getting wetter from my tongue in your pretty little hole," he murmurs.
So he can feel it. You noticed a brief few minutes ago after Geto started eating your ass that your pussy has gotten significantly wetter, and not just because of Zuko's eager tongue. You are gushing like a waterfall, sending your honey dripping into the mouths of the younger prince. "Fuck, I think she's close!" Zuko groans, feeling your pussy tightening around his tongue now.
If he didn't feel that, you're sure he would've suspected by how loud you've gotten. Your moans and whimpers can't be contained anymore, bouncing off of his bedroom walls. "You're gonna cum for me now, sweetness?" Geto huskily asks, using his two fingers to gently rub at your asshole, making you damn near cream on yourself.
Zuko snarls into your pussy, anger radiating through his muscles flexing underneath his robe. "No, she's gonna cum for me," he growls. "Stop distracting her."
"I'm gonna cum for you both!" you desperately moan, grasping at their silky locks of hair, pushing them deeper into your holes, as far as they can possibly go. "Please, please make me cum, my Lords! Don't stop!" Zuko mumbles nonsense into your pussy while Geto laughs, speaking through wicked flicks of his tongue against your ass. "Never, little one. Just cum for us. Let go. We've got you now."
And like a puppet on a string, pulled by the princes' wicked and convincing tongue strokes, you let out a loud whine as you cum all over their faces. You soak their smoothly-shaven cheeks and chins as you cream, flooding their mouths with your nectar straight from the source of your sweet-like-sugar pussy. They share groans of satisfaction and need as they slurp up your essence, making you cry out and whine as your pussy throbs and tingles with every agonizing stroke of their tongues.
When you finally come down from your high, a smile stretches across your face, matching the one sliding along the princes' lips. "Mmm-hmm," Zuko hums as he pecks your tummy, making you twitch. His fingers glide along your sweat-soaked skin, slightly warmed by his fire abilities. "Mmm, good girl," Geto praises you, giving your ass a squeeze. "How was that?"
You are more than happy to let him know: "Like heaven. Thank you, My Lords." You sit up from your fort of pillows, want racing through your veins as you gaze at the handsome men before you. "Now I must please you both as well."
The princes must feel the fire radiating from your molten gaze because they don't hesitate giving you what you want. They each stand, racing each other to see who can do it the fastest. "Let's get her on the bed," Zuko requests. "I don't want her on the floor doing this."
You grin when he offers you a hand to help you stand. "How sweet of you, My Lord," you hum, taking his hand in yours, but even as you stand, your legs feel like jelly. Luckily, you have a certain young prince to help you. Surprising both himself, Geto, and you, he scoops you up into his arms and carries you over to his bed. "Oh!" you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Geto watches sourly, following behind. "Show-off," he scoffs. Zuko gives him a wink, pleased with himself. "Don't look so upset, brother. I'm just playing your own game is all...and winning."
Your giggles continue as Zuko swiftly walks over to the bed and gently places you down on the satin sheets, soft to the touch. The two princes stand at the foot of the bed, looking over your curves like you're a dessert plate. "So what are you waiting for, brother?" Geto asks, slyly smirking at Zuko. "Get udnressed and drop your pants...unless you're too afraid to get shown up by me."
As you laze about on the sheets, biting your lip in anticipation, you watch the Firelords disrobe for you. Your eyes are drawn to their fingers as they untie their robes while their eyes are locked soley on your beautiful face and body. Your arousal practically explodes and spills over when they expose their toned bodies to you, every part of them carved with muscle, their lower stomaches adorned in patches of fine black hair.
When their pants are finally off, you come face to face with what you've dreaming about for ages. Their dicks are just as beautiful as you pictured them being—different in size and shape, one thicker than the other, the other curving upward, but both throbbing, rock hard, and ready for you.
Geto raises a teasing brow down at you and your dreamy expression. "Well? You wanted to suck some royal dicks, right? Here you are now, little dancer." He wraps a hand around himself, gently pumping from base to tip. "Take them, little one, but you must do your very best for us, okay?"
Zuko flushes as you sit up in front of them, flashing him your naked tits, much to his dick's enjoyment. "Of course, Your Highness," you purr. "I would give you nothing less." You begin slow, using some body oil on the bedside table next to you to pour onto their hard dicks and into your palms, making both slick and shiny.
Then it's strictly about pleasing the two princes. Stroking, pumping, and sucking. Your pussy gushes at each deep moan, gasp, and swear that escapes the princes' lips as you alternate between sucking and stroking them. Geto throws his long hair back and moans in ecstasy as you pump him with your mouth, your lush, wet lips sliding up and down his shaft.
"Ah, fuck," he sighs, his handsome face contorted in pleasure. "God, that's fucking good." His big hand tangles in your hair, holding you firm, while Zuko watches in awe as your dainty hand strokes his dick in tandem. "Her hand feels good t-too," he stammers. You pull away from Geto's cock, strands of spit connecting his cockhead to your bottom lip.
"It feels good, my Prince?" you purr, staring at Zuko through your lashes. "Would you like my mouth as well?" Zuko can't even speak; he can only jerkingly nod as his cock twitches in your palm. You smile and wrap your mouth around him next, sliding him deep into your throat and against your tongue. Zuko's eyes widen at the new sensations, his mouth agape as your tight, wet throat closes around him and slides up and down his shaft.
"Oh, fuck!" he moans, clenching his fists at his sides as you bob up and down his dick, moaning in enjoyment. Geto watches on through hooded eyes, fucking your hand slick with oil.
You continue to work Zuko's dick in your throat, hollowing your cheeks and staring into his eyes. When you need to breathe, you slide him out of your throat only to suck and lick on his tip, earning a desperate hiss through his teeth. "Y-You...oh, fuck, how do you do that with your tongue?"
"This?" you ask before you push the brothers' cocks together and lick both of their tips at the same time, earning wanton groans in response. You continue to alternate between them, giving them as much tender, love, and care as possible, causing your own spit to pool down your chin and soak your tits.
But Geto soon takes initiative, your mouth too much for him, and grips your hair as he pushes himself deep down your throat. You gag in surprise, but you don't dare push him away, letting him use your throat for his pleasure. "Deeper," he grunts. "Come on now, love, don't give up. Take that fucking dick."
His moans are aphrodiasics to you as he fucks your mouth, his balls gently slapping against your chin. Black strands of hair hang in his handsome face, his composure lost as he thrusts deeper and deeper, filling your throat up with his cock. Zuko practically melts at the lewd sight, his cock growing bigger and thicker as he watches your mouth stretch around his brother's dick.
Geto notices and smiles, pulling out with a groan to tap his dick against your tongue. "You wanna try, brother?" he pants. "Just fuck her throat nice and deep. Make her take it." After some coaching, Zuko swallows hard and slides himself inside of your mouth.
Obediently, you take his slow, deep thrusts as he gets used to your throat closing around him, causing more spit to drip down your chin, making you look like a professional cock slut. The moans that Zuko lets out are choked and wanton, traveling straight to your soaked pussy. You can't help but play with yourself as Zuko fucks your throat, using it as he would a fleshlight.
Geto notices your fingers working between your thighs and smiles, raising his brows. "Oooo, someone's being quite naughty," he chuckles. "I suspect you need to be treated kindly down here again, sweetness?" Slowly, he switches places and climbs onto the bed behind you, placing his big hands on your hips. You feel his cock nudge your pussy lips apart, allowing your wetness to drench his tip.
"You want this dick now, darling? Can you take me and my brother at the same time?" Zuko groans as he slips out of your throat, allowing you to speak, which you eventually do once your moaning over Geto's cock rubbing against your pussy stops. "Yes!" you gasp. "Please fuck me, Suguru! I need y—"
You can't finish because he's already sliding in, filling you to the brim with dick. Your mouth falls agape as you're stretched open on his thick dick, expanding on every sensation you've ever felt. "S-Sorry, love, but your begging was just too damn cute," the older prince stammers, biting his lush bottom lip as you squeeze him tight. "Y-you—oh, fuck—feel so fucking good."
Zuko watches you bounce against his brother's dick buried deep inside of you, your tits swaying enticingly back and forth. "Don't tire her out. I still need to fuck her too." Geto chuckles, moving his fingers down to rub your clit in time with his breathtaking thrusts. "Sure...if she doesn't cum too hard. I'm known for doing that to women."
An irritated growl escapes Zuko as he slides his cock in your mouth again, keeping his thrusts a bit slower and lighter to not overwhelm you. How sweet of him. "Just fuck her and shut up," he growls. "I'll show you that I can do just as good of a job." Geto raises an interested brow, his smirk wicked and sly. "Oh, can you now? I'll hold you to that, little brother."
And then together, the two fuck you off of their cocks, pushing and pulling you back and forth. It is like some erotic seesaw, the rhythm building the more they fuck your dripping holes. Zuko's resolve drops with every thrust of his dick down your tight throat and ripple of your ass bouncing back against Geto's cock. "That's it," he grunts. "You suck me so well, baby. So fucking good!"
The way you squeal and moan around Zuko's cock makes Geto fuck you a little faster, placing a foot on the bed. It drives him deeper inside of you, to the point where you damn near feel him in your tummy. "Yeah? You like sucking my brother's fat dick while I fuck you with mine?" he pants. "That pussy certainly seems to."
Your pussy concurs, dripping over his fingers as he rubs your clit in time with his thrusts. You feel his eyes roll over your curves, drinking in the way sweat rolls off of your blessed body. "Fuck yes," he hisses. "How is this body so amazing, hm?" He begins to harshly palm your ass, indulging in the way your soft asscheeks ripple and bounce in time with his thrusts. Your body tingles at his touch, needing more. "Spank me!" you whimper.
"Seriously?" Zuko asks, surprised by such a request. But Geto is grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, I'm gonna have some fun with you, little one." He then raises his palm and swats your ass repeatedly, the harsh sounds of his hand coming down on your ass exploding against the bedroom walls.
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
The assault on your ass combined with Geto's mind-melting thrusts is too much and soon, you feel your second orgasm cresting like a full moon. "M'gonna cum!" you moan around Zuko's cock. "Please harder, My Lord! Fuck me faster!" Geto's groan is fit for a porno, filled with need and desperation. "Of course, cutie. Anything you want."
So he thrusts harder, faster, his balls slapping against your clit. Sparks of pleasure explode through your body as you bounce back against his dick, practically fucking yourself as he pounds into you, taking and giving at the same time. "Such cute begging. Such a sweetheart," he grunts. He leans forward, capturing your tits in both of his big palms. "Gonna make me fucking cum. Make me breed you."
The idea of being bred by one of the princes–or both–turns you on more than you care to admit. You can only moan around Zuko's throbbing dick as Geto fucks your pussy like he owns it, chasing his orgasm. "M'gonna cum!" he groans. "You ready, little one? Ready to take this load?"
"Mmm-hmm!" you moan around Zuko's dick twitching in your throat. You don't get a chance to prepare before a hot rush of cum is flooding your insides, followed by a loud groan from Geto as he empties himself inside of you. You quickly cum as well, shuddering and shaking as your orgasm takes you on a journey through the stars and beyond.
Zuko watches as your eyes roll back with his cock still stuffed in your mouth, your orgasm taking complete control in addition to the hot gush of spunk that Geto gives you. It seems to last forever until Geto's grip on your tits eases and his thrusts grow sloppy until they finally slow.
He sighs as he slooooowly slides out of you, groaning at the gush of cum that manages to escape your pussy. You slide your mouth off of Zuko's cock and collapse between them, totally spent and breathless. Geto smirks at Zuko, cocky and proud of his work. "Told you she'd tap out," he chuckles. Gently, he strokes your ass, leaning down to check on you. "Tuckered out, little dancer? Or can you take more?"
More. Yes. Your body reacts immediately, igniting with need like a wildfire. You slowly sit up on your knees, staring into the worried gaze of Prince Zuko. "Do you wish to continue? We can stop if you—oh, fuck!"
He doesn't get a chance to finish because of your vicious sucking again, swallowing him whole and giving him a few pumps of your throat that make his toes curl. You pull away, lips coated in spit and pre-cum, bating your lashes at him. "Please fuck me, my Lord," you whimper. "I need to make you feel good too."
Zuko stares, blushing and intensely aroused, while Geto smirks at the sight. "You heard the girl. So you gonna show me up or what?" As if a switch flips, Zuko's shy demeanor vanishes, replaced with someone so determined to please you. "I want her on her back," he requests above a growl. "I want her to look at me when I make her cum."
His lewd words sound like a promise to your ears, fierce and impassioned, making your stomach flip with anticipation for what will come next...and hopefully cum next too.
Moments later, you're taken to euphoria again when Zuko is fucking you in missionary, hips slamming against yours as you lay back against Geto's broad chest. He holds your legs open for his brother, watching as Zuko fucks your pussy into his bed. The lewd noises of his dick sloshing and squelching in your wet pussy drifts through the air, mixing with your loud moans and his groans of pleasure.
There is a symphony of sex swimming in the air, uninterrupted or silenced, only growing more intense the deeper and faster Zuko fucks you. "Oh, my God, yes!" you wail against the bedsprings creaking. "That's so good, Zuko, fuck!"
The younger prince smiles, black strands of his hair cascading over his broad shoulders and face glistening in beads of sweat glistening in the moonlight. "Yeah? Better than my brother, right?" Geto glares from behind you, teasing your hard nipples as his brother continues to pound you into the mattress. "Watch it. I could snatch that pussy away from you easily."
Zuko breathlessly chuckles, his cock somehow twitching in your pussy at the prospect of such a challenge. "Doesn't seem like she'd like that," he grunts. "She—oooo, fuck, she's squeezing around me so tight!" He pauses to spit on your pussy, a drop of saliva dripping from his mouth to drench your puffy, sticky pussy lips.
You can only gasp as he slides in again, deeper, making you take every thick inch of him. Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls slack on desperate, loud moans and gasps as he draws himself inside of you, trapping you between himself and his brother. "I want to devour you, little dancer," he groans. "Wanna keep you here and make you mine over and over again."
He leans down to press himself against you, using his arms to hold himself up, encasing you in a prison of muscle that you don't want to escape. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deep into the very loins of your soul as he fucks you deep. "Would you like that?" he whispers.
You only whine in response, unable to formulate proper words. Geto laces a hand around your throat, squeezing. "Answer my brother, pretty girl. You wanna stay here and let my brother fuck you until you cum over and over again?" Zuko goes harder. Faster. Pistoning that dick inside of you and forcing you to answer. "Yes!" you wail. "Both of you! I want both of you, please!"
Geto's chest rumbles as he softly laughs, wrapping those big arms around you to hold you close as Zuko pins your thighs apart to fuck you in semi-mating press. "Then cum for me," Zuko grunts. "Give me all of that honey, baby, please. I need it. Please, please, please."
His begging is a straight drug lacing through your veins, getting closer and closer to yet another intense orgasm. Geto kisses down your neck as he squeezes you tight, anchoring you down before you float off as your orgasm crests. "Give it to him now, darling," he whispers. "Cum for him. Cum for us again."
It doesn't take long—not with the way Zuko is desperately moaning above you as he chases his orgasm head on, his cock sliding against your slick, wet pussy walls until he can't take much more. "Fuck, I'm cumming!" he gasps. "I-I can't...stop! Gonna fill you up!"
Plap, plap, plap goes his hips against your thighs as his thrusts grow faster and faster until finally—
"Fuck!" you both gasp in unison as Zuko floods your insides with his cum and you drench him in your cream, finally released from your bottle of self control. Your body would definitely be levitating if it isn't for Geto's beefy arms snaking around you, holding you close and holding you down, forcing you to take his brother's load deep inside of you.
Your eyes roll back and your body twitches as you cum, cum, and cum, drenching Zuko's cock and balls in your honey. He groans as he fills you, his dick twitching inside of you as the last of his spurts of spunk escape him and enter you, breeding you the same as his brother did moments before.
Finally spent, Zuko slowly pulls out of you, collapsing onto his back, his muscular body slick with sweat illuminated by the moonlight. For a while, there is only comfortable silence spiked with the afterglow of sex. "That was amazing," you finally sigh, delirious.
"Mmm-hmm," Geto hums in agreement. "Except..." He grips your chin and squeezes it tight, forcing you to look back at him. His violet eyes are firm yet fiery, making your stomach flip with excitement. "What do you say?" he asks, his tone dripping with authority.
You aren't sure what he means at first, your brain still mushy from your three orgasms. But then you realize it when Zuko snuggles up to your side and kisses your cheek. "Thank you, my princes," you whisper. Geto smiles and pecks your lips, satisfied. "You're very welcome, little one. Now let's get you cleaned up."
You thought tonight couldn't get any better, but that's before Geto carries you off to Zuko's large bathchambers and runs some hot water in a stone pool for you. Zuko adds some kind of liquid that has an herbal scent to the water, turning it a slight teal color and creating bubbles. The brothers get into the steaming water first before offering you their hands. "Careful now," Geto murmurs. "Gently. The water isn't going anywhere."
You take their hands and slowly step into the pool, hissing at the heat at first. But soon, the water soothes your tired muscles and you melt into the bubbles. Zuko pulls you towards him, letting you lean back against his broad chest while you face Geto, your feet on his beating heart. "Good?" Zuko asks.
"Yes," you sigh, content. "I am the envy of all women right now." Geto smiles, gently kissing both of your feet as you relax further into the water. "And we are the envy of all men. You made us feel so good tonight, love."
The praise fuels you the way the herbal-scented water does, making you feel brand new. In this little world with the three of you, surrounded by nothing but the bubbles and water, you feel like nothing and no one matters. Just tonight. Just this moment of bliss.
So you lean against Zuko's chest and hum with contentment, smiling when he tangles his fingers in your wet hair, allowing yourself to fall completely and totally in the little sanctuary your princes have built...even if it's just for tonight.
"The only question is whose dick made you cum more?" Geto asks. "Mine or my brother's?"
SPLASH!
Geto suddenly gets a mouthful of soapy water flung at him by his brother while you giggle profusely. "Get the fuck out, Geto," Zuko growls. "Or I'll drown you."
It’s sundress no panties weather in the FireNation
You love springtime because that means long walks, gardening, foraging and your favorite… teasing Zuko with no panties under your sundress.
The first truly warm day after a long, gray winter hit the Fire Nation countryside like a blessing from Agni himself. Golden sunlight poured over the rolling hills surrounding your private estate.
Zuko was already in the garden when you found him, sleeves rolled up, sweat glistening on the scarred side of his face as he helped turn soil for the new herb beds you’d insisted on planting. His dark hair was tied back, a few strands sticking to his neck from the heat.
You stepped out onto the stone path wearing a light, breezy sundress the color of ripe peaches that flowed just below your ass. No bra and definitely no panties.
“Need some help, my lord?” you called sweetly, putting an extra pep in your step making your tits almost bounce out the dress.
Zuko straightened, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist. His golden eyes flicked to you, softening instantly at the sight of you in the sunlight. “You shouldn’t be out here in this heat without a hat,” he grumbled, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “You’ll burn.”
“I like the heat,” you replied, stepping closer until you were just within arm’s reach. You bent slightly to examine the soil he’d turned, letting the hem of your dress ride up the backs of your thighs. The breeze kissed your exposed pussy, as you stretched even farther exposing the soft curve of your ass with the bare, already slick folds between your thighs catching his attention as you continued, “Besides… I thought you might want company.”
Before you could straighten up, Zuko’s hands were on you. His calloused palms landed firmly on your bare ass, “No panties,” he muttered, “You really walked out here like this, knowing exactly what it would do to me.”
“Mmm. Guilty.” You arched back into him, “It’s warm. I wanted to feel the breeze… and you.”
One hand stayed gripping your right cheek while the other slid lower. Without warning, two thick fingers dragged through your slick folds from behind, parting them and immediately pushing the tip of his middle finger into your dripping cunt. “Oh!” you yelped in surprise, eyes widening.
“Should’ve known you’d pull this the first warm day,” he groaned, his fingers playing with your slick. You couldn’t help pushing back against his hand, your hips rolling instinctively as his finger sank deeper. He pumped it slowly at first, then faster, the wet sounds of your arousal barely masked by the breeze rustling the leaves. His thumb brushed teasingly over your clit as a needy whine slipped from your lips as you rocked back onto his finger.
The sundress had ridden up completely now, bunched around your waist, leaving your ass and pussy fully exposed to the open garden air while Zuko played with you. Then, just as suddenly as he’d started, he pulled his finger free. You stood up straight with a frustrated whimper, turning to face him. “Hey—why’d you stop?”
Zuko brought his glistening finger to his mouth, locking eyes with you as he sucked it clean. He smirked, “We’re outside, princess. You really want the groundskeepers to see us like that?”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as your cheeks burned and your thighs pressed together, trying to ease the ache he’d left behind. “As if the servants and everyone else at the palace aren’t already gossiping about our sex life. Half of them probably place bets on how loud I’ll be each night.”
His hand slipped back under your dress, palming your ass again, “If you’re that impatient… we can go inside. Or I can bend you over right here and make sure you stay quiet. Whatever you want, my princess.”
You bit your lip, “Right here,” you whispered, “Bend me over. I don’t want to wait.”
Your ass lifted naturally, fully exposed as he shoved the peach-colored dress up to bunch around your waist. He kicked your feet wider apart with his boot, one hand staying heavy on the small of your back to keep you pinned as you heard the rustle of fabric as he shoved his loose garden pants down just enough to free his cock.
“Quiet,” he reminded you, even as the head of his cock nudged insistently against your soaked pussy. “Or I’ll have to cover that pretty mouth.”
You barely had time to nod before he thrusted in, cock slipping through your wet slick. Zuko’s hand immediately clamped over your mouth, his scarred cheek brushing yours as he leaned over you. “I said quiet,” he hissed, though you could hear the smirk in his tone.
You whimpered against his palm, pushing back to meet him, desperate for more. His hips snapped forward again, setting a ruthless pace that had the wooden garden bed creaking beneath you.
The angle was perfect—his thick cock fucking strokes that rocked you forward with every thrust, your bare breasts bouncing beneath the thin dress, nipples dragging against the fabric. “Hnngh—ah—h-harder, Zuko, p-please,” you whimpered, pushing back to meet every powerful stroke. “Fill me, Zuko… please—”
He angled his hips just right, grinding deep on every thrust until your legs started to shake. “Is my princess gonna come for me?”
Princess, fuck that made you cum everytime. You moaned loudly, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his cock as he groaned, “So tight,” He buried himself as deep as he could go and came inside you. “You know how much I look forward to this every time spring comes around? I love you so much, my empress.” He expressed his love as hot, thick pulses of cum filled your cunt until it started to leak out around his shaft with every shallow thrust.
He stayed pressed against you for a long moment, both of you panting under the bright spring sun. Before he tugged the sundress back down over your hips, though the fabric was now wrinkled and slightly damp. Turning you in his arms, he cupped your flushed face and kissed you.
Oh you couldn’t wait for the rest of the season.
a/n: no bc seriously its sundress no panties weather FINALLYYYYYY
