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acc is a wip rn please be patient while I yearn for the motivation to fix it
summary ༺๑ˊ- robert likes your eyes. you don't like eye contact.
pairing(s) ༺๑ˊ- robert robertson x female!reader (gender-neutral)
cws ༺๑ˊ- established relationship, lots of kisses, oral f!recieving, edging themes, lots of coaxing
requested? ༺๑ˊ- yes/no
a/n: my autistic ass ate this rq right up. it got long
"why do you keep doing that?" robert leaned back against the counter of his kitchen, crossing his arms expectantly as he eyes you up.
"doing what...?" you murmured, gazing into his eyes for a split second before looking back at what you were doing. you didn't even realize how little you looked into his eyes.
"that."
you quickly glanced back up at up, before tearing your gaze away. robert chuckled, shaking his head fondly. god, you were so cute.
"look at me," he purred, tilting your chin up with his pointer-finger. you didn't, just looked down at his forearm. he smiled.
"you keep looking away." robert analyzed, his voice particularly gentle, his hand moving to brush his thumb over your cheek, which was warm to touch.
"just... i don't know. it's weird." you muttered, still looking away. "looking into my eyes is weird?" he inquired playfully, kissing the corner of your mouth. "am i that ugly?"
a small giggle emitted from you at his question, shaking your head as you gently 'hit' his arm.
"i guess i just... can't." a sigh spilled from your mouth, looking to the other side now. robert let out a hum, moving to kiss your cheek.
"you can. let me help?"
"okay, y- yeah. fine."
you were sure you were going to die. this was going to kill you. and he's barely done anything yet.
"c'mon look at me, baby." he whispered against your skin as he kissed down your sternum and onto your soft stomach, looking up into those hesitating eyes of yours.
you reluctantly peeked down at him, feeling your cheeks grow hotter as he was already looking right at you. "there you are, pretty." he cooed, slowly travelling lower.
he finally reached the waistband of your underwear, hooking his fingers underneath.
you got excited, tilting your head to the side.
you looked away.
"nuh-uh," robert hummed, releasing your underwear with a small snap, chuckling as it made you twitch and huff at him. "why'd you stop?" you grumbled, furrowing your eyebrows slightly at him.
"is it a crime to want to see your pretty eyes?" he sassed, pressing a kiss beneath your navel, mouthing against the elastic, nosing at your skin.
"i hate you." you murmured, but managed to gaze down at him again, your breath hitching as he finally hooked his fingers into your underwear and slid it down your legs, tossing it somewhere on the floor. a problem for future him.
"yeah? do you, now?" he smiled, kissing at your inner knee and kissing up your inner thigh as he moved to get closer to you, eventually ending up on his stomach between your legs. his favorite place.
as his kisses grew closer to the apex of your thighs, you subconsciously closed your eyes, like how you normally would do.
he stopped. again.
"fuck, robert!" you groaned in frustration, only to be met with his wide grin. you were going to kill him. "it's not my fault, pretty. you knew the rules." he kissed right above where you needed him, an almost apologetic gesture.
he reached up, intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand comfortingly. "c'mon, you can do it," he coaxed softly.
you obliged, meeting those big brown eyes, pupils blown out with lust. lust for you. you whined, your hips twitching.
robert chuckled softly, holding your gaze as his lips moved down. he pressed the flat of his tongue against your wetness, before licking up. he moaned. fuck, he'd be happy if this is how he died. buried in your thighs.
you stared at him with wide eyes as his half-lidded gaze lazily stared right back, the tip of his tongue massaging circles into your clit.
his freehand rested on your lower stomach, gently pressing into the skin. you whimpered, throwing your head back.
again, he paused.
"robert, please! i can't do it!" you complained, begging for some sort of reprieve. some mercy from his cruelness—when in reality his only rule was for you simply to look at him. well, "simply looking at him" wasn't very simple for you.
he planted kisses into the patch of sensitive skin where your pelvis met your thigh, humming. "do you want to cum?"
"well, y- yeah, bu—"
"then you gotta look at me, sweetheart." robert chuckled, nosing at you affectionately.
it took a few long seconds for you to hype yourself up, finally leering down at him yet again.
"hi, sweetie," he smiled, his mouth quick to resume his ministrations, wanting to reward you for being so good for him.
you held his eyes in your gaze as he lapped at you, his brown eyes twinkling in the dim light as he lost himself in you.
he looked so perfect. felt so perfect.
he squeezed your hand as he took your clit into his mouth, suckling gently as his tongue flicked against it, watching as your eyes rolled back.
he didn't mind this time. he knew you couldn't control it when he made you feel as good as he always did.
he went back to massaging your lower stomach with his freehand, little circles amplifying the growing heat.
"i- i think i'm close," you gasped out, thighs beginning to tremble over his shoulders. robert's eyes crinkled slightly in satisfaction.
without much warning, you came into robert's mouth. robert groaned, not letting up as he kept lapping at you needily. like he was the one getting pleasure from this instead.
the post-orgasmic sensitivity began to wrack your body as he kept sucking at you, pushing at his head. he laughed, finally pulling off.
"do you like eye contact now?" he asked, nuzzling into your thigh, looking up at you half-lidded eyes, his lips wet and slightly puffy.
"no." you huffed. robert bit your thigh playfully, making you swat at him.
"one day." he whispered, planting a final kiss to your thigh.
dazai is the sort of tease who would rub his pre cum covered tip against your inner thighs to clean it and leave your thighs feeling sticky. he would purposely let his length and head bump against your clit or brush past your folds repeatedly until your cunt gushes out more slick which he rubs against his dick, pretending to be sad because he has to clean his dick again and what's better to use than your inner thighs?
while chuuya is the type to trace the length of your throat with his pre cum covered tip and leaving a messy trail behind. he would shove two of his fingers inside your mouth just to see drool drip down the side of your lips and down your chin. when you would try to gulp down whatever saliva you can, chuuya would follow the bobbing motion of your throat with his tip, hissing softly to himself.
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.
aang, in all his avatar glory, is not above tongue-fucking his cum right back into your quivering, convulsing pussy. his wide, stupefied eyes glow white as he licks and scoops and sucks with relentless obsession, lithe tongue sweeping across your folds with striking precision only a master of the four elements could possess. powerful arms pin your thighs against the mattress while roughened hands palm over your lower stomach, cradling the skin above your uterus with something almost reverent in their touch.
“it has to take. . .” he’s mumbling to himself, practically incoherent, but you can still hear the raw desperation threaded through his guttural chanting. “has to, has to, has to—!”
“a-aang, mmph! what’s wrong? did something happen on your trip—?” you whimper through the haze of overstimulation, hands scrambling against his shoulders as you search for something to ground yourself with. he’s been at it for hours, ever since he returned from his home air temple. had stormed into your shared bedroom with the doors rattling against the walls behind him, barely a greeting leaving his mouth before he was climbing over you, frantic hands shoving the hefty layers of his robes and beads from his body like they’ve suddenly become unbearable.
in mere seconds he had you flat on your back.
then on all fours.
and then on your side and everything else in between.
the room is in absolute shambles— feathers spilling from torn pillows and swirling through the air in frantic, whirling currents. the bed barely remains intact beneath you, headboard split apart and canopy hanging in splintered ruin, all of it unable to withstand the force of him as the elements hum beneath his tortured skin.
“aang, honey, are you— hah!— okay? talk to me, baby. please.”
what new revelation could he have possibly had for him to suddenly fold you into a million different positions?
and you tried to run, to tap out after the nth round, but did you really think you could escape the hold of an avatar in his avatar state? a handsome, beefy, six-foot-five, one-hundred-something kilogram man so utterly desperate to revive an entire bloodline, yet far too in love to want to do it with anyone else but you?
aang’s voice comes out rough, wrecked with pathetic want. “need to get you pregnant,” he finally admits, lips never leaving your twitching clit. “need it right fucking now.”
his sharp, unfamiliar words send a shiver down your spine.
he begrudgingly sits up, one hand keeping you spread for him while the other drags down his chiseled abs, ghosting over the twin downward arrows that curl just above his v–line. he fists his burly cock in slow, measured strokes as he readies another thick load, bright eyes trailing from your flushed face to your heaving breasts, tongue-in-cheek.
your heart jumps. you know that look. “aang, i know how much reviving air bending means to you, the duty you have to your people—” you start in an attempt to soothe.
because when he gets like this you tend to wobble for weeks.
he cuts you off with a dry, humorless chuckle. “you think that’s what this is about?” he tilts his head, eyes narrowing.
you could only gulp in response.
then, he’s rising above you, broad, muscular shoulders boxing you in as he settles between your thighs. the heavy heat of his dick presses against your sensitive, aching entrance, his incandescent gaze dragging over your face like he’s trying to memorize every expression, every shaky inhale.
mapping out your features in his mind with perfect, painful precision.
the realization that had struck him back at the temple as he looked at every mural, every worn painting and towering statue of the air nomads. they all looked like his people. familiar faces, familiar smiles, familiar eyes, familiar powers.
but none of them resembled you.
none carried the curve of your lashes or the little furrow in your brow when you worried. none had your laugh, the unique slope of your nose, your warmth, your favor for sour over sweet, your gentleness for children and particular bugs. and suddenly, the grief that sat in his chest for years changed shape entirely. because what would be the point of preserving the world he lost if, in doing so, he lost every trace of the person he loved most within it?
“this—this isn’t about me reviving airbenders or a duty to save my dying culture. this isn’t about avatar sonam or tagah or monk gyatso or anything that has to do with bending. this is about you and me and me wanting to start a family with you,” he states with that heavy, solid avatar voice of his. firm and sure, thumb brushing along your jaw, “this is about me making sure that a part of you will always exist in a world where the avatar exists. that your lips, your eyes, your soul. . . live on for eternity. so that every time i look into this world through the eyes of the new avatar, i can still see you. see you in our grandchildren, in our great-great grandchildren, in the people that will come to exist because we loved each other. . . to know that you’ll always be in my life someway, somehow.”
“aang. . .”
“i realize now that there will come a day when airbending returns, whether in our lifetime or long after we’re gone.” he presses his forehead against yours, tone softer despite the ache in his words. “i know that i’ll get to see that vision through the eyes of the avatars who will come after me. and if i keep chasing impossible answers, impossible resolves— if i keep throwing myself at a future i can’t force into existence— i’ll lose you in the process. i’ll waste the little time we’re given together. with our friends. with our children. the thought of losing you to time. . .”
it killed him.
you feel it. the shift in him. the sincerity behind every broken word, every trembling breath. the sheer despair that claws through him at the thought of you leaving nothing behind of yourself, of the love the two of you share. the regret he’d forever live with if he only prioritized the revival of air-bending or the kids that would inherit it. and the fact that he still hasn’t left the avatar state only makes it worse, every emotion stripped raw and vulnerable beneath glowing eyes and tattoos and shaking hands.
“so i vow now that i will never neglect your life or your culture for the sake of mine. whether we have airbending children or not. . . that is up to the universe.”
his hands cup your cheeks gently as he leans in, drawing you into a slow, sloppy kiss. you could only gasp softly when his tongue slips past your lips, kissing you like he’s trying to seal his fate with yours.
he slowly pulls away, thick fingers easing you open as he makes room for himself. “i can live without other airbenders. i can make due with the acolyte family we’ve founded. what i cannot live without is you. what i cannot imagine not ingrained in this world beyond my lifetime is you.”
aang smiles for the first time tonight, like the image in his mind was far more beautiful than anything he could’ve ever imagined. he sinks inside, massive and overwhelming, drawing a raspy breath from your lungs at the sheer stretch of him. still, you pull him closer, wanting nothing more than to feel the slow, heavy drag of him inside you.
“so for now,” he whispers, breath warm against your lips as he begins moving slowly, in and out, “all i want is a child with you. one that embodies everything that you are. one that will carry on your memory, your curiosity, your strength, your traits.” gone was the glow of the avatar state, the white fading slowly from his eyes until they were simply his again, fixed on yours with a tenderness so deep it was almost unbearable. “so i’m begging you. . . give me a baby that looks just like you.”
you cry out helplessly as he buries his face into your throat, holding you impossibly close. every stroke is long and deliberate, driven far less by hunger and more by an emotion too large for words. the slick of your arousal coats his balls as you helplessly grind against him, cunt fluttering around the girthiness of his base. you could feel all the veins that line him, tracing your walls as he fucked you like he needed you to breathe.
you blink back the tears threatening to spill. “b-but i do want our baby to be like you. i do want to help you—”
he shakes his head fervently, fingers tightening around you like he’s afraid you still don’t understand. “no. no,” he rasps, “i don’t want this to be some duty you carry for me. i want this because it’s us. because it’s the life we chose together. no obligations. no sacrifices.”
you feel the dampness at the corner of his eyes as he clings to you, hands roaming your body in a worship-like trance, as though he was reassuring himself that you were real and here and present and his. to have and to hold and to sink himself into when the world is in chaos.
“please,” he croaks hoarsely into your neck, voice cracking around the word, and the raw vulnerability in it makes your chest ache more than anything else ever could. “say you’ll give me a baby, sweetheart. say you’ll give me this one thing. even if they come without air-bending.”
a broken sound leaves your throat as you cling to his shoulders, nodding desperately against him, back arching into his warmth. “yes,” you breathe out shakily, fingers curling around his nape. “yes, yes, yes. of course, i will.”
the words—your defining proclamation—undo him entirely. he groans into the curve of your neck, holding you so tightly it almost hurts, every breath hot, cold, then hot again against your skin. he cums in thick, long spurts, coating your insides pearly white as you cream on his cock, legs caging him in. his tattoos begin to faintly glow once more as he shivers, hips still pumping his seed into you, forehead pressed beneath your jaw, as though he can’t bear even an inch of distance between you.
when he finally pulls back, his eyes have returned to their natural state, shining with something far softer than desire.
devotion, perhaps. a need to always keep you safe. to give you—and your children—a world that offers everything and takes nothing in return.
“i love you,” he murmurs softly, brushing the damp strands of your hair from your face. he rests his forehead against yours again, eyes slipping closed as his heart, for once, is at ease. “thank you.”
your lips tremble into a tired smile, fingers curling weakly around his head. “you never have to thank me for loving you.”
though your words alone could never truly capture the depth of everything you’ve given him.
18+ MDNI, corrupted!aang, adult!aang, touch-starved, needy & whiny, sub!aang, loss of control, begging, mild voyeurism, heavy make-out. ♫ 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 : 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 - 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 ♪
lately, 𝓐𝓪𝓷𝓰 hadn’t felt like himself. truly.
and it was entirely your fault, or so he would say.
he was supposed to be the master of all four elements, the serene and untouchable avatar, the man who brought balance to the world. but ever since the two of you grew from childhood friends into whatever this heavy, unspoken thing was between you... his balance was completely shot. you didn’t even have to try. you just existed, and he unraveled.
right then, you were sparring in the western courtyard of the air temple. you weren’t a bender, though your family tree had roots deep in the air nomad ancestry, but you wielded a staff with a grace that made aang’s heart do stupid, erratic things against his ribs.
he was standing across from you, chest bare and glistening with sweat in the afternoon sun, his glider staff resting casually behind his neck, draped over those broad, carved shoulders. you tried not to stare at the solid plane of his chest, but it was hard. he wasn’t a scrawny kid anymore. he was a force of nature, towering and muscular, the blue arrows of his mastery stretching over skin that ran hot with exertion.
“you’re distracted,” you teased, twirling your staff before dropping into a defensive stance.
“am not,” he shot back, a playful smirk on his lips. “just giving you a fighting chance.”
you lunged. the sequence was fast, a flurry of wooden clacks and rushing wind. aang easily dodged your first two strikes, moving with that sickeningly beautiful grace of his. but as you pivoted for a roundhouse sweep, the hem of your skirt—which sat comfortably above your mid-thigh—rode up just a fraction too high.
it was a split second. a mere flash of lace.
but for the most powerful man in the world, a split second was all it took to completely short-circuit his brain. his grey eyes widened, his breath hitched, and his defensive stance crumbled. your staff connected with his ankles, and with a yelp, the avatar went down, landing flat on his back in the soft grass.
you laughed, planting the end of your staff into the dirt. “going easy on me, huh? is the great avatar losing his touch?”
aang groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck. his face was flushed a deep, alarming shade of red. “y-yeah. just... slipped. the grass is slippery.”
you rolled your eyes playfully and sat down on a nearby stone bench, crossing one leg over the other to brush the dirt and grass clippings off your calves. you didn’t notice the way aang’s eyes tracked the movement of your hands, the way he swallowed thickly.
he stood a few feet away, staff in his hand whilst completely half-naked and staring at you. the air around him felt thick. static. he knew he shouldn’t. he knew he was a monk, a spiritual leader, a man of discipline. but the sudden, consuming urge to see more completely overrode his common sense.
he flicked his wrist behind his back.
a sudden, concentrated gust of wind swept across the courtyard, catching the hem of your skirt and flipping it up completely. you let out a startled gasp, quickly pressing the fabric down with your hands.
“woah, where did that come from?” you muttered, looking around at the seemingly calm afternoon.
when you looked back at aang, he was staring up at the sky, his hands resting on the staff behind his neck, pursing his lips and whistling a terribly off-key tune. he looked so aggressively innocent that it was almost suspicious, but you brushed it off.
what you didn’t know was that his heart was hammering a frantic rhythm in his throat, and the image of you was permanently burned into his mind.
after that, he vanished.
for the rest of the day, he actively avoided you. if you entered the dining hall, he suddenly remembered a pressing matter with the elders. if you walked into the library, he practically air-scootered out the window. by the time night fell, you were frustrated.
you couldn’t sleep. the mountain air was too crisp, your mind was being too loud. you threw on a shawl and wandered the winding corridors of the temple until you reached the meditation sanctuary.
and there he was.
he was kneeling in the center of the room, candles flickering around him. his eyes were squeezed shut, his brow furrowed in deep distress as he muttered ancient cleansing mantras under his breath.
“it’s not working, is it?” you asked softly from the doorway.
aang jumped, his eyes snapping open. the blue arrows on his head and arms seemed to dim as he looked at you, panicking. “y/n. i—what are you doing awake?”
you walked into the room, crossing the floor until you were standing right in front of him. you kneeled down, invading his space, trapping him between you and the altar. “i could ask you the same thing. why have you been avoiding me all day, aang?”
“i haven’t,” he lied smoothly, though his voice cracked on the second syllable.
“don’t lie to me.” you reached out, gently resting your hand on his bare knee.
the moment your skin touched his, aang completely shattered. a pathetic, whiny sound escaped his throat, and he slumped forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. his huge arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest with a desperate, crushing grip.
“aang?” you gasped, shocked by the sudden weight of him.
“i’m sorry,” he whimpered against your collarbone, his voice thick with unshed tears. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i can’t—i can’t control it anymore.”
“control what? hey, look at me,” you coaxed, gently rubbing the smooth skin at the nape of his neck. he leaned into the touch like a starved man, whining again at the slightest friction.
he shook his head, refusing to look up. “myself. my thoughts. lately, i’ve been discovering this... this new side of me, and it scares me. i’m the avatar, i’m supposed to be detached, but with you... i’m so weak. i can’t say no to you. i constantly want to be touching you, clinging to you.”
he took a ragged breath, his hot exhale sending shivers down your spine. “and today... the wind. during sparring. that wasn’t a natural breeze. i did it. i used my bending to flip your skirt because i wanted to look at you. i’m no better than a pervert, y/n. i’m so corrupted by you.”
you froze, processing the confession. the great, noble avatar, using his ancient mastery over the elements to catch a glimpse of your underwear. it was so absurd, so entirely out of character, that a bubble of warmth burst in your chest.
you cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to look at you. his grey eyes were glassy, rimmed with red, looking at you like you held his entire universe in your hands. he was so big, so powerful, yet he was kneeling before you, practically begging for absolution.
“you really did that?” you asked, a slow smirk spreading across your lips.
he nodded miserably, a tear slipping down his cheek. “please don’t hate me.”
you used your thumb to brush the tear away. “i would never hate you, aang. and honestly? i think it’s kind of hot.”
his breath hitched. his pupils dilated so fast it left only a thin ring of silver around the black. “w-what?”
“you heard me,” you murmured, leaning in until your lips were mere inches from his. “i’ve liked you for a long time. and since i’m the reason you discovered this dark little side of yourself... i think it’s only fair that it belongs to me.”
aang let out a sound that was half-sob, half-groan. “yours,” he repeated frantically, as if it was the only word he knew. “i’m yours. all of me. please, y/n.”
he didn’t wait for permission. his lips crashed into yours, clumsy and desperate and so, so hungry. his hands, huge and calloused from years of fighting, roamed over your body with a frantic urgency. he pushed you back gently until you were lying flush against the floor cushions, his heavy, muscular frame blanketing yours.
“mmh, y/n,” he whined into your mouth, his tongue parting your lips, tasting you like he’d been dying of thirst his entire life. he kissed you softly, then deeply, then rough, pouring every ounce of his pent-up desire into the connection.
when he finally, reluctantly pulled back just enough for the both of you to catch a ragged breath, the separation was incredibly messy. a thin, glistening string of saliva bridged the small gap between your swollen lips and his. his chest heaved against yours, slick with a fresh sheen of sweat, and for a fleeting second, you swore you could see a soft flicker of light pulse beneath the intricate blue arrows tracing his skin; a beautiful betrayal of exactly how overwhelmed he was. his grey eyes—dark and blown wide with raw need—dropped to track that wet, intimate connection. a shuddering, frustrated sound tore from his throat at the sight of it. unable to bear even an inch of distance between you, he immediately dove back in, completely swallowing your breathless gasp.
and oh, how you loved the way he completely surrendered to you. so utterly consumed by the very thought of you.
breaking the kiss with a heavy pant, his large hands slid up your waist, gripping your hips tightly, anchoring you to him. “need you,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck now, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your pulse point.
“i’ve been so good for so long, baby. let me be bad for you. just you.”
Synopsis... While on vacation at Ember Island, your two best friends discover that you struggle with low self-esteem, and decide to cheer you up in the best way.
Pairing: Sokka x reader x Zuko
Warnings: Smut MDNI; FEM!Reader; threesome; size kink grrr; cervíx kíssing; p in v; pet names, swéaring; matíng presses; multiple positions; oral (m & f receiving), kissing both Zuko and Sokka; If you squint, the characters have a crush on the reader; dirty talk; fingering pssy; unprotected s; tummy bulges; creampiess; hEADLOCKS; hair pulling; squirting. —this is for the girls, the bi and their wifes (reader).
[ 🌸 ] brrr--my spirit animal is Toph because she also fall in love with the hot guy
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You shifted slightly with a soft hum, letting the warm sand sink beneath your feet. The murmur of the ocean was calm, steady—like it was accompanying the light conversation you were sharing with Zuko. Sitting on your towel, facing the quiet horizon, you could hear Aang and Katara laughing somewhere in the distance, probably chasing Momo through the waves.
Toph, meanwhile, was sprawled out on the sand with her arms and legs stretched wide, like a carefree starfish. You wondered, not without a hint of envy, if she had already fallen asleep. She probably had—the girl was calm, solid as a rock.
Zuko was sitting beside you.
It was… strange seeing him like this.
You had always known him tense, carrying the weight of being the Fire Lord even in the simplest moments. But now, with the breeze brushing through his dark hair and his expression relaxed, he seemed like someone entirely different.
“It’s a beautiful place, Zuko… thank you,” you murmured softly.
Your gaze lingered on his hands for a second too long—large, steady hands moving with unexpected gentleness as he brushed a few dark strands away from his face.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied with a small smile.
His golden eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something there. Something warm. Soft.
Your heart skipped.
You probably imagined it… right?
Yeah. That had to be it.
You were about to say something—anything to fill the silence that suddenly felt too aware—but Sokka appeared out of nowhere, returning from the bar with three drinks in hand.
“Hope you didn’t miss me too much… although that would be flattering,” he said, winking at you dramatically.
The joke was terrible.
And precisely because of that, you couldn’t help the smile slipping out.
His hand trembled slightly as he handed you your drink.
“Here you go,” he added before turning to Zuko. “And this one’s yours. Hope you go completely wild tonight.”
Zuko blinked, visibly confused, unsure how to respond.
You bit your lip, holding back a laugh.
Their dynamic… never stopped being ridiculously entertaining.
…
You remained seated on the towel, drink in hand, watching the waves roll in and out… but not really seeing them.
Something inside you had dimmed.
Maybe it was the way Katara looked so radiant under the sun—so beautiful, so confident. Even Toph, lying there without a care in the world, seemed more… secure. More comfortable in her own skin than you had ever felt.
You let out a quiet sigh.
“Are you okay?” Zuko’s voice came closer than you expected.
You turned your head slightly. He wasn’t relaxed anymore—he was watching you with that quiet attentiveness of his, the kind that always seemed to see more than you said.
“Yeah… just tired,” you lied, lowering your gaze to the drink in your hands.
A brief silence.
“That didn’t sound very convincing,” Sokka added nearby.
You huffed softly. “Didn’t know you were an expert in emotions now.”
“I am,” he shot back without hesitation. “Especially when someone’s making that face.”
“What face?”
“That ‘I’m fine’ face when you’re clearly not.”
You rolled your eyes, though without much energy to argue. You took a small sip, the bitterness of the alcohol warming your throat uncomfortably. Zuko, meanwhile, stayed quiet.
Instead, you felt his hand brush against yours—just barely, like he was testing whether you’d pull away.
You didn’t. You didn’t have the strength to.
“You don’t have to pretend,” he said softly.
His tone was different. Softer. Closer.
Something in your chest tightened.
“I’m not pretending…”
“Yes, you are,” Sokka cut in, this time without his usual teasing tone. “And it’s weird, because you’re usually terrible at lying.”
You looked at him, ready to snap back—but the words didn’t come.
Because they were right.
You dropped your gaze again, that uncomfortable knot forming in your throat.
“It’s just that…” you started, but stopped.
What were you even going to say?
That you didn’t feel like enough.
That even surrounded by them, part of you still felt out of place.
Ridiculous.
You shook your head. “Forget it.”
But this time, Zuko didn’t let you slip away so easily.
His hand moved, covering yours completely. His warmth contrasted with the cool ocean breeze.
“Look at me,” he said.
You hesitated.
But you did. And there it was again—that look.
“You’re not out of place here. You know that, right?”
You blinked, startled, something inside you wavering.
“Then why does it feel like it?” you murmured.
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was… heavy.
Sokka sighed softly beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because your head is a terrible place to live sometimes. Trust me, I’ve got experience.”
That earned a small smile from you.
“But that doesn’t make it true,” he added, leaning closer.
Zuko didn’t look away. “If you could see yourself the way we see you…” he started, then trailed off.
“It’d be a lot harder for you to think like that,” Sokka finished with a half-smile.
Heat crept up your face. “You’re exaggerating…”
“No,” Zuko said firmly. His thumb brushed lightly against your skin—a small gesture, but enough to make you lose your train of thought. “We’re not.”
The air shifted.
Heavier. Closer.
Sokka rested an arm behind you, close enough for you to feel him without it being overwhelming. “Besides,” he added with a crooked smile, “if you weren’t amazing… why do you think we’re here with you instead of annoying someone else?”
A soft laugh escaped you—this time more genuine. “That proves nothing.”
“Of course it does,” he said. “I don’t share my time with just anyone.”
“Neither do I,” Zuko added, not breaking eye contact.
That didn’t sound like a joke.
…
You met Zuko through Sokka.
At first, it was… complicated. But slowly, you started to understand who he really was—beyond the rigid posture and intimidating stare, there was someone patient, restrained… deeply gentle.
And despite everything—the war, the title, the weight they both carried as friends of the Avatar—they still held onto something that completely disarmed you:
That simplicity.
That way they were with you, like… you were enough.
Even if you still struggled to believe it.
And yet, here you were now between them, in the beautiful bedroom Zuko ordered to prepare so you could rest, except you wouldn’t do that tonight—you kiss Sokka while Zuko trailed wet kisses down your neck, his hands exploring your body with a certain hesitance while Sokka worked at the knots of your bikini.
You pulled away from Sokka just enough to breathe, but he chased your lips, trying to drag the kiss out longer. A soft kiss brushed your cheek before a hand gently turned your head—Zuko’s lips grazed the corner of your mouth before claiming you fully, while Sokka pressed kisses along your jaw.
The sudden air against your now bare skin, paired with Sokka’s firm grip on your ass, tore a moan from your throat—one Zuko swallowed with a low, approving sound.
His movements were slow at first, almost unsure, like he was learning you—until he found the right angle and kissed you properly. Deep. Consuming. His tongue dragging against yours in a way that made your breath hitch. It was hungry—devouring you like a man starved, leaving you breathless.
God… you were almost certain your collarbones and chest were flushed red from the relentless attention of Sokka’s mouth.
Zuko pulled back, breath uneven, eyes dark with desire—just like Sokka’s.
“Are you okay with continuing?” Sokka asked against your neck, then looked at you seriously.
Zuko pulled back slightly, waiting.
Waiting for your answer. And spirits—you felt so heard. So cared for.
They wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want. They wouldn’t. You nodded first, flushed and breathless before managing, “Yeah… I’m sure.”
Sokka was the first to take control, guiding you onto the bed—and for a second, you wondered if all three of you would even fit, because for the first time you really noticed the difference in their builds.
Sokka was only a few centimeters taller than Zuko, a bit leaner, but his muscles were well-defined. Zuko, on the other hand, was broader—his sturdier frame sometimes made him seem taller than he actually was.
And then there was you—between them, feeling smaller.
You sat slowly on the soft mattress, your gaze flicking from Sokka to Zuko, their eyes dark as they took you in. You could feel the slick heat between your thighs, your arousal already soaking your folds and inner thighs.
Your hands trembled—just slightly—as you reached for the waistband of their shorts, pushing them down slowly.
Zuko wouldn’t admit it out loud, but this was the first time anyone had ever sucked him off.
He watched you carefully while Sokka settled behind you, his cock already hard, right in front of your face.
Your eyes lingered on Zuko first.
His cock was… intimidating. Thick, veined, the head flushed with need, a few drops of pre-cum already sliding down the length of him.
Sokka’s, in contrast, was prettier—slightly curved, slimmer—but something told you he’d still make you cry.
You felt him behind you, brushing against your entrance. For a moment, you thought he’d push into your wet cunt—but he didn’t. Not yet.
Your hand, steadier now, wrapped around Zuko’s cock, moving slowly, timidly at first, stroking up and down—trying not to miss a single inch.
Zuko—usually so composed—struggled to keep his breathing steady.
Then he felt your mouth.
Warm. Wet. Wrapping around him.
Spirits… your lips stretched around him, and you were sure the corners of your mouth would ache later.
You tried to focus, but Sokka’s hands roaming your body made it impossible. His fingers dragged along your skin before pinching your nipples lightly, his lips leaving wet kisses along your neck.
A moan slipped out of you—vibrating around Zuko’s cock—and he let out a low groan in response.
Sokka’s fingers slid lower, almost playfully, finding the wet heat between your thighs.
He didn’t hesitate.
His fingers circled your clit slowly, teasing, drawing it out—making sure your orgasm stayed just out of reach.
Your muffled moans pressed against Zuko, your lips wrapped around him.
“Look at her… so wet. Such a dirty girl,” Sokka murmured hoarsely against your ear.
Then his arm slipped around your neck—not tight, but firm enough to guide you—keeping you right where he wanted you, still sucking Zuko’s cock.
Your half-lidded eyes lifted to Zuko, and you could see it—his control slipping, the tension in his jaw as he tried to hold himself together.
Your saliva dripped down your chin, making a mess of you.
A pretty mess.
You sucked him a few more times before pulling back for air, your tongue dragging slowly along his length, licking up the saliva that had gathered there.
Then you turned toward Sokka—your gaze hungry.
Yeah.
You were completely worked up. His fingers left your heat only long enough to lay you back on the bed.
He followed immediately, a crooked smile on his lips. For a brief second, warmth bloomed in your chest—something soft you couldn’t quite place—but it vanished the moment you felt lips press against your soaked folds.
Zuko.
A curse slipped from your mouth before it turned into a moan against Sokka’s lips, because he was already kissing you again while Zuko’s large hands spread your legs wider.
Your hand—no longer shy—slid into Zuko’s dark hair, guiding him, pressing him closer as he kissed your clit.
Something he was more than willing to keep doing.
Sokka’s hands covered your breasts, kneading your flesh like he couldn’t get enough. His mouth left yours just long enough to kiss your nipples before he straightened slightly, bringing his cock closer to your lips.
His fingers tightened in your hair. You didn’t hesitate. You took him into your mouth while Zuko ate you out.
You weren’t going to last.
Not when Zuko’s fingers slid inside you, searching for the right rhythm to push you closer to the edge. Sokka wasn’t far behind either—the way his grip on your hair tightened, the way he fucked your mouth—you were a fucking sight.
“That’s it… come for us.”
You whimpered as your climax crashed into you, your senses overwhelmed.
Sokka cursed under his breath before pulling away, spilling across your face.
You were too dazed to even process the feeling of his cum on your skin, though you vaguely registered him yelping, apologizing as he scrambled for something to clean you.
Zuko looked up at you from between your thighs, a little awkward, a little concerned—but there was something warm in his gaze that made your cunt clench again.
Sokka came back with a cloth, gently wiping your face. “You okay?”
You nodded weakly, letting out a breath. “Yeah… that felt good.” You wanted to keep going.
Spirits, you really did. Who knew if these two incredibly attractive men would ever fuck you again? Zuko helped you stand up, then turned you around so your back faced him and—
You yelped when he suddenly lifted you, your legs spreading instinctively as his strong arms held you up. You were completely exposed in front of Sokka—your flushed, swollen clit on full display. You were a show. You felt the tip of Zuko’s cock press against your entrance, making you gasp. “Relax,” he murmured against your ear.
You tried.
You really did.
Because when he pushed inside, it felt like he might split you in half—but it felt so good. Your wet cunt swallowed him whole. He gave you a moment to adjust before starting to move—slow at first, each thrust deeper than the last. Your body stretched around him, adjusting, taking more and more.
The angle—
God, the angle—
He was so deep, hitting your cervix with every thrust, making your mouth fall open, drool slipping past your lips. You couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat when he shifted slightly and—
There.
Your G-spot.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better—
Sokka leaned in and started licking your clit. Your toes curled tightly, your whole body shaking from the overwhelming sensations crashing into you. You sobbed as you came hard, your body giving in completely—your release spilling out, soaking Sokka’s face. You squirt right in his face.
“Look at you… shameless. Getting him all messy too… is that payback?” Zuko murmured against your neck, amusement in his voice. You flushed harder—but before you could even try to apologize—
Sokka licked you clean. Completely.
Melting you all over again. “Did that make you clench? Fuck… such a dirty girl,” Zuko’s voice was strained now—he was close. Sokka’s hand slid over your stomach, pressing lightly, appreciating the bulge of Zuko inside you. You hadn’t even noticed it before. Spirits—it was too much. You weren’t going to last—
“I think she’s gonna come again… cute little thing,” Sokka murmured, kissing your stomach. Your vision went white as you came again, and Zuko followed right after, spilling inside you.
You felt dizzy, your breathing uneven as you tried to steady yourself. It had been a lot—but you weren’t complaining.
It felt too good. Zuko lowered you slowly, pulling out of you before pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, letting Sokka catch you.
“That… was amazing,” you managed, breathless.
Sokka smirked. “Guess that means you want to keep going?”
“You’d be guessing right,” you replied weakly.
He pushed you until your back touched the bed, he put your legs up against your chest, your knees almost brushing your breasts, letting your legs rest comfortably on his shoulders as he slid back inside your still-sensitive cunt with ease.
He cursed. “Don’t think I’m gonna last… not after that show you put on earlier,” he groaned, kissing your neck, his hands gripping your chest, playing with your nipples until you whimpered as he start moving inside you—going deeper and deeper.
You weren’t going to last either.
The sounds of skin slapping, your soft cries—it all echoed in the room. You couldn’t focus on anything else. You were drunk on him. You trembled, pathetic, as you came again, tightening around him.
“Fuck… you’re so pretty. Look at you,” Sokka groaned, barely holding on before he finally came deep inside you.
You gasped when he pulled out, collapsing beside you. You didn’t need a mirror to know how wrecked you looked.
Zuko returned just then, holding a couple of damp cloths, already dressed in underwear—you hadn’t even noticed when he left.
“Did you bring one for me—” Sokka didn’t get to finish before Zuko tossed a cloth at his face, making him yelp indignantly.
That made you laugh softly, even if your body ached.
You tried to sit up, but Zuko stopped you, gently starting to clean you himself so tenderly.
a/n play this to set the mood or wtv...!! yall this my first time writing full on smut dont flame me
The argument had been building for days.
Not over anything real—not really. You'd been tired, short-tempered, snappish in ways you couldn't explain. He'd been patient at first, the way Aang always was, his calm voice and steady hands trying to soothe you. But even the Avatar has limits.
"You're not listening to me," you'd said, arms crossed, back turned. "I am listening. You're the one who keeps interrupting herself."
You'd spun around, fire in your eyes. "Don't get smart with me."
"I'm not getting smart. I'm stating a fact."
His jaw had tightened. That was when you knew you'd crossed a line—not because he looked angry, but because he went still. The way the air goes still before a storm.
there's silence.
"Y/N."
"You want to be factual? Fine. Fact: you've been gone for three weeks. Fact: you came back yesterday. Fact: you expect me to just—fall into your arms like nothing happened. Like I didn't spend twenty-one nights staring at the ceiling wondering if you were alive."
His expression had shifted. Something flickered behind his grey eyes—hurt, maybe, or guilt. But you were too angry to care.
"I can't do this right now," he'd said.
"Then don't." You'd grabbed your pillow. "Sleep on the couch."
You'd slammed the bedroom door behind you. Not locked it—you never locked it—but closed it hard enough to rattle the frame.
That was two minutes ago.
Now you're under him.
You'd fought him. Or at least tried to. For about half a second. Your hands had pushed at his chest, your teeth had nipped at his lower lip, your body had twisted in his grip. But he hadn't let go. He never let go.
Now you're on your stomach. Your hands are fisted in the sheets. Your back is arched—deep, obscene, the way he likes it. Your knees are spread wide on the mattress, and he's kneeling behind you, one hand on your hip, the other pressing your upper back down into the pillows.
His cock is at your entrance. Not inside yet, the head pressing against your slick folds, teasing.
"Look at you," he says. His voice is different now—lower, rougher, threaded with something that makes your thighs tremble. "All that fire two minutes ago. All that fight. And now you're arched for me like a good girl."
"Shut up."
He pushes in. Just the tip. You gasp.
"Mngh—"
"That's not shutting up."
He pushes deeper. You feel the stretch—the impossible, delicious stretch—and your fingers claw at the sheets.
"You're so tight," he murmurs. "Always so tight for me. Like your body knows what your mouth won't say."
"I hate you—ah—"
He thrusts. Hard. Bottoming out in one smooth motion, and you scream into the pillow.
"No, you don't."
"too big- s' too big-"
"come on...you've taken it before baby"
"s'different...you've been gone for so long.."
"I'm sorry," he says. His voice softens. Just a little. "I'm sorry I was gone so long. I'm sorry I didn't—"
"Don't—ngh—don't apologize while you're inside me—"
"Why not?"
"Because I can't—mmph—I can't be mad at you when you're—"
He pulls out. Almost all the way. Then slams back in.
"—when I'm what?"
You sob. "When you're fucking me like this—"
He does it again. Harder. The bed creaks. The headboard hits the wall. Your body jolts forward, and his hand presses down on your back, keeping you in place.
"Say it."
"I can't—ah—"
"Say it, Y/N."
You turn your head. Look at him over your shoulder. His grey eyes are dark, intense, fixed on your face. His arrow tattoos are faint against his skin—not glowing, not yet, but there's something simmering beneath the surface. Something that makes your stomach flip.
"I can't be mad at you when you're fucking me like you mean it."
He smiles. It's not a nice smile. It's cocky, a little mean, a little mocking—the kind of smile that makes you want to slap him and kiss him in equal measure.
"I always mean it."
"Prove it."
He does.
His hips snap against yours. Hard. Fast. Relentless. The sound of skin on skin fills the room—wet and obscene—and you bury your face in the pillow to muffle your screams.
"None of that." His hand tangles in your hair. Pulls. Your head lifts. "I want to hear you."
"Ngh… mmph… ah-"
He pulls out. Leaves you empty. You whine at the loss, your hips pushing back, searching for him
"mn..? aang—"
He pushes back in. One thrust. Deep. You cry out.
His hand reaches around. His palm cups your breast—full, round, soft—and he squeezes.
"So soft," he says. "So perfect. These tits are mine, aren't they?"
"Yes—"
"Say it."
"Yours—they're yours—"
He pinches your nipple. Rolls it between his fingers. You moan and push back against him, and he groans—low and guttural.
"You want more?"
"Please—"
"Please what."
"Please—harder—"
He gives you harder. His thrusts turn punishing. "I'm going to fill you up," he says. His voice is low, rough, almost a growl. "I'm going to fill you with my cum. With my babies. You want that?"
"Aang—"
"You want me to put a baby in you?"
"Yes—yes—please—"
"You want to be round with my child? Swollen and heavy and full?"
"I want it—I want it—"
"Tell me you're sorry."
"I'm sorry—"
"Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours—"
"Tell me you know who's fucking you right now."
"You—ah—Aang—"
"That's right."
You whine. High and desperate. "Ngh… Aang…"
"You wanted this." He pulls out almost all the way. Slams back in. "You ignored at me and yelled at me. You made me wait. You made me worry."
"I'm sorry—"
"You will be."
He fucks you. Hard. Deep. Ruthless. His hips slam against yours, and the bed creaks, and the headboard hits the wall, and you can't do anything but hold on and moan.
"Mmph! Ah… nnm… ngh…"
"Listen to you," he says. "So pathetic. So pretty. All those sounds you're making—"
"You're making me—ah—you're making me—"
"I'm here. I've got you baby."
He slows down. Pulls out almost all the way. Teases you with just the tip.
You sob.
"You're so mean—"
"You like it."
"I hate it—"
"You're dripping." His voice is low. Dark.
You are. You can feel it—the wetness sliding down your thighs, soaking the sheets, making everything slick and obscene.
"You're so—ah—so dirty—"
"You love it."
He fucks you. Hard. The way he fucks you when he's been gone too long and come home too late and found you waiting, angry and beautiful and so full of love you don't know what to do with it.
His hand leaves your hair. Slides down your spine. Grips your hip. His fingers dig into the soft flesh, hard enough to bruise, and you moan—loud and pathetic—and push back against him.
"So pretty like this," he murmurs. "Arched for me. Taking everything I give you. And you were so mad two minutes ago. So ready to fight."
"I'm still—ngh—still mad—"
"You don't feel mad."
"I am—ah—I am—"
He thrusts deeper. Angles his hips. Finds that spot inside you—the one that makes your vision go white, the one that steals your breath and your thoughts and your anger.
"Feel pretty fucking good for someone who's mad."
You can't answer. Your mouth is open, sounds spilling out—soft, desperate little noises that you'd be embarrassed about if you had any shame left.
"Ngh… mmph… ah…"
"I missed you," he says. His voice is softer now. The cockiness fading into something real. "I missed you every day. Every night. I thought about you—"
"Don't—"
"I thought about this. About coming home to you. About fucking you until you couldn't remember why you were mad."
"Jerk—"
"Mm. You love it."
He's not wrong.
He shifts your weight. Pulls you up, your back pressed to his chest. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you against him, and his other hand finds your throat—not squeezing, just resting there, his fingers curled around the column of your neck.
"You feel that?" he asks. His voice is right in your ear. "Feel how deep I am?"
You nod. Can't speak. His cock is inside you at an angle now—deeper than before, hitting places that make your toes curl and your eyes roll back.
"Tell me."
"I—I can't—"
"Tell me, Y/N."
"How am I supposed—ngh—how am I supposed to-hic- talk when I'm stuffed with 9 inches of your dick?"
He laughs. Genuinely laughs. The sound vibrates through his chest and into your back, and you feel it everywhere. His hand slides down from your throat to your breast. "You're so soft," he murmurs. "So warm. I dream about this. About you."
"I dream about you too—"
"Yeah?"
"Every night—"
"What do you dream about?"
You turn your head. Look at him. His grey eyes are soft now, the darkness fading into something tender. His arrow tattoos are glowing—just faintly, just at the edges, the way they do when he's close.
"This," you whisper. "I dream about this."
He kisses you. Deep and slow and sweet. His tongue slides against yours, and you taste yourself on his lips, and you moan into his mouth.
"I love you," he says.
"I love you too."
"I'm sorry I was gone."
"I know."
"I'm sorry I made you wait."
"I know."
"I'm close," he says. His hips stuttering.
"Me too—"
"Come with me."
"I—"
"Now."
You come apart.
Your body convulses. Your inner walls clamp down on him, squeezing, pulsing. You scream into the pillow—his name, just his name—and your vision goes white, and your ears ring, and you feel everything and nothing all at once.
He follows. His hips stutter. His grip tightens on your hip. And he tattoos glows for a hot second before he spills inside you.
"Aang—"
"Fuck—"
He groans. Low and rough. His head falls back. His body trembles against yours.
You've never heard him curse before. Not like that. Not with that raw, broken edge.
He collapses beside you. Pulls you into his arms. Your back presses to his chest, and his face buries in your hair, and his arms wrap around you like he's afraid you'll disappear.
------------
i was writing this and accidentally deleted the best part of the fic n i cant remember it at all...END ME.
I don't care if they're the highest grossing movies on planet freakin Earth, you say "Avatar" and everyone and their mom still thinks that bald little bitch and his magic cow. Soggy James can keep his millions, he'll never have the streets.
even if you’re over sensitive from the other orgasms he just dragged you through, he’s still coaxing another one out of you. keeping an arm slung across your midriff to make sure you stay still, groaning against you when your fingers twist in his hair.
if you try to pull him away, he’ll shake his head, slick smearing his lips as he leans back, shiny even in dim light. “don’t.” it’s both a plead and a warning, voice rough from arousal and the fact that he’s been on his knees between your thighs for hours.
he fucking whimpers when he feels you squirt against him, praise and begging mixing together into an unintelligible jumble of pleading against your cunt. nails digging hard into your thighs, the pain only serving to make you throb harder against his tongue.
when he pulls back, you notice the wet spot on the front of his boxers, the way he hisses through his teeth when the fabric rubs against him.
„your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing” is so fitting now that we know how fyodor dies and (based on what we know rn) didn’t accomplish. anything. like what is left of his grand plans and goals? nothing. horrible I feel HORRIBLE
Okay off to positive things about the chapter: Dostoyevsky pinballing from one side of the airport to the other through a domino of snipers was objectively hilarious
