it's a question of morality.

so, tell me: where do you stand?

[wingfleur]

alexis ! 19. she/they. black. college student. jack of many trades. mdni. # — about me | # — rules | # — masterlist | # — tags & anons

© wingfleur 2025. all rights reserved. copying, translating, or falsely claiming any of my work(s) as your own is strictly prohibited.

[singse]

18+ | best friend!aang x f!reader | modern day

Aang had sent you the video.

It had meant to be one of Momo and Appa. Aang had described it as "hilariously adorable" in the message that accompanied said video and you had been excited.

You loved receiving hilariously adorable videos and had been in need of the pick-me-up after the mentally exhausting day you just had.

You had tapped play on the video, all curled up in your bed and warmly wrapped up in your comforter. You had already been smiling, waiting for the video to load and grace you with the serotonin of cute animals being silly.

Instead, you had received something else.

You're in a state of shock as the video showcases a broad and slightly damp chest, muscles defined with tension. Heavy pants can be heard from the audio, the broad chest lifting and falling in time with it. That, on its own, is an indecent sight but what takes it to depravity is the hand at the bottom of the screen jerking up and down.

And what it's jerking is one of the biggest cocks you've ever seen. Thick and veiny with a piercing running down the length of it, the root cushioned with a well-kept mess of dark brown curls. The tip is fat and flushed red, precum dripping from the slit with every pump and you subconsciously swallow, your heart pounding away.

You're still in shock because this doesn't seem like a video Aang would have on his phone. He doesn't seem like the type to…record himself getting off so he can send it to whoever he's seeing at the time. It's easy to enter a state of denial, for your brain to perform mental gymnastics due to the sudden change of perception of someone close to you.

Someone who is your best friend.

But every time your brain tries to deny this change, it also points out the blue tattoos on those strong forearms. It points out the tiny details that make it impossible to refute your rampant denials.

You've laid in the bed that's behind him, nestled into his blankets with a snuggling Appa.

You've rummaged through his closet that's in the far left because you forgot to bring a sweater and needed one of his.

You've sat in the gaming chair he's seated on right now, eagerly watching as he runs through the kingdom of Hyrule on his Switch.

You know that room too well for it not to be Aang's and now you're spiralling. Your heart's still pounding fiercely and there's a loud roaring in your ears as something hot and sticky falls into the pit of your stomach. You want to look away from this; from Aang at his most private but his little groans and whimpers has you coming back for more.

It's the rapid fall and rise of his chest, the subtle lift of his hips as his hand works his cock with sloppy pumps. It's the glistening of sweat over his tanned skin, the tremble that begins to set into his bones.

You're growing wet—you can feel it.

Your panties are sticking to the swollen folds of your pussy, your clit's throbbing as your hole flutters, aching. It feels so empty, it hurts and it needs—you need—

A notification from Aang interrupts your descent and kicks back in some sanity. Quickly, you pause the video, shame curling in your stomach, as you go to check on what Aang has just sent you.

It's a message that simply reads:

Fuck.

[i115ve]

🌸 :)

[arachine]

aang with a brat. Mmmmm

brat tamer!aang is very near and dear to my heart >.<

i feel like when people hc sweet characters as brat tamers, they lean too much into the mean aspect of it. i think he has times where he's firm and forthright, but never overtly mean or purposely cruel. most of the time, it's subtle and comes in the form of light teasing.

when you're being irksome or especially difficult, maybe in public or around friends, he'll give you a look. and not a stop it right now type of look, but a do we need to step away so i can eat it out of you type of look (which you've become quite acquainted with).

during sex, if you try to rush your nut or tell him to just fuck you already, maybe while he's eating you out or fingering you, he'll just prolong it even more to annoy you. he'll admonish you for not being patient, and say things like, 'you're not being good for me,' or 'i can't give you what you want if you won't let me make you feel good.'

[cherrywineisawaltz]

situationship aang…… ….

HE CANNOT BE CHILL FOR THE LIFE OF HIM!!

Adding what we said before in the inbox, but the whole using his bending of the elements to crowd you, get an excuse to put his hands on you whenever you’re out. Rocks appearing in your path to trip you up, make you stumble so he can reach for the tumbling frame of your waist, tug you into him under the guise of just keeping you from face planting into the dirt, “Wow, you should really watch where you’re going,” while you’re giving him shit, face all hot when you’re shoving him off to create distance he refuses to adhere to, just mindlessly orbiting your space. Training his water bending, splashing your thin robes in water to watch the way the fabric clings to your curves, the outline of your tits, “I’m so sorry!” With no real conviction behind it, caging your body with his to conceal the exposure of your nipples through the fabric, unrelenting despite your irritating battering against his chest, pushing him off when he crowds you to somewhere more private, “You can’t wear those anymore, I’ll be right back guys—just gonna give her something to change into.”

“Not still mad at me, are you?” murmured against the arch of your throat, composure dimming with his lips grazing the sensitive skin, fingers prying your pliable thighs apart, tentatively stroking your aching clit with his lengthy fingers. “I’ll make it up to you—you want me to right? Make it all better?” And fuck him cause you can hardly think with his fingers curling up into your cunt, perfectly hitting that spongy spot inside of you that has you keening over, drenching clothes long forgotten when he’s punching the air from your lungs with his pistoning fingers, “Gonna get back at me? Drench my arm—know you can, come on, I deserve it don’t I?” and you’re writhing against his palm as it slaps against your clit, pussy clenching and spraying all down his thick forearm while you’re trembling uncontrollably. FUCK OFF NO ONE TOUCH ME

[gojosconsort]

︵ ೀ mdni. you and shoko always casually made out at parties but that stopped after she started dating suguru, until one night she invites you to join them and you end up as their plaything ( threesome / being used by them )

the parties were always the same.

loud music, dim lights, too much alcohol, and the two of you ending up in some dark corner like it was inevitable. it started with teasing, a smirk from shoko, then her pulling you close by the waist. your lips would crash together—messy, hungry, tasting like cheap vodka and cigarettes.

her hands always found their way under your shirt, fumbling with the clasp of your bra while you gasped into her mouth. she’d squeeze your tits roughly, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened under her touch. you’d moan softly, pressing closer, grinding against her thigh just a little, but it never went further than that.

clothes stayed mostly on. hands wandered, but never below the waist. it was always rushed, sloppy, and over too fast—someone would call shoko’s name or the music would change and you’d both pull away laughing, lips swollen, cheeks flushed.

“just messing around,” shoko would say with that lazy smile, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. but for you… it was never just messing around.

every time her fingers slipped under your bra and pinched your nipple, you ached for more. every time she sucked on your tongue and squeezed your tits like she owned them, you wished she would push you against the wall and actually fuck you. you wanted her hands between your legs, wanted her mouth on your skin, wanted her to take you somewhere private and make you hers for real.

but you never said it. you swallowed it down, smiled like it was nothing, and told yourself it was just fun.

until it wasn’t anymore. because shoko started dating suguru.

it made perfect sense. they looked so good together—the two college heartthrobs. shoko with her effortless cool, cigarette dangling from her lips, pretty eyes and that lazy smile. suguru with his long dark hair, calm confidence, and that beauty that made people stare.

they fit. they looked like they belonged on magazine covers, like the kind of couple everyone secretly envied. when they walked into a room together, heads turned.

and now the corner makeouts stopped completely. now she sits in his lap at parties, kissing him slow and deep while his hands rest on her hips. you watch from the side, nursing your drink, trying to ignore the sharp twist in your chest every time she moans softly against his mouth.

you told yourself it didn’t bother you. you smiled when they told you they were official. you even teased them about how disgustingly cute they looked together.

but tonight, the jealousy feels like a live wire under your skin.

you’re all back at suguru’s apartment after another loud night out. the lights are low, music still playing softly from someone’s phone. you’re sitting on the couch with too sugary drink in your hand, watching them.

shoko is straddling suguru’s lap, kissing him slow and deep, the kind of kiss that makes everything else disappear. her fingers are tangled in his long dark hair, hips rolling slowly against him as their tongues slide together wetly. every soft sound she makes hits you like a punch.

you look away, cheeks burning, but your eyes keep drifting back. you remember how her hands felt on your chest, how she used to pinch and knead your tits until you were panting. but now those hands are on him.

shoko eventually pulls back for air, lips shiny and swollen. her eyes find you across the couch and she tilts her head, studying your face.

“you’ve been quiet,” she says. “jealous?”

you shrug, trying to play it cool. “no, i’m not jealous.”

shoko lets out a soft laugh. she leans back against suguru’s chest, still straddling him, and looks at you with that familiar lazy smirk.

“liar. i know you.”

before you can protest, she slides off suguru’s lap and crawls over to you on the couch. her hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip. without another word, she leans in and kisses you.

it’s slow at first, almost teasing, her lips soft and warm against yours. then she deepens it, tongue slipping into your mouth like she’s reminding you exactly what you’ve been missing. you can’t help the small sound that escapes you when she sucks lightly on your tongue.

when she finally pulls back just enough to speak, her breath fans over your wet lips.

“you missed it, didn’t you?” she murmurs. her fingers slide into your hair, tugging gently. “missed the way i kiss you.” she nips at your bottom lip. “my hands on you… the way we used to mess around at parties?

you feel your face heat up, embarrassment and want mixing together. shoko smiles against your mouth, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. suguru watches the two of you from the other side of the couch, a small amused smile playing on his lips.

“it’s okay,” she whispers, kissing you again, slower this time. “you don’t have to lie to me, baby.”

the kiss quickly turns deeper. shoko’s tongue slides against yours, while her hand slips under your shirt, palm warm against your stomach, and you shiver. she smiles into the kiss when she feels it.

without breaking away, shoko reaches for the hem of her own shirt and tugs it off. her bra is simple and black, but it looks perfect on her. she tosses the shirt aside and immediately returns to your mouth, kissing you harder now, more eager.

“your turn,” she murmurs against your lips.

her fingers are gentle but sure as she pulls your shirt up and over your head. the cool air hits your skin, making you feel exposed, but shoko doesn’t let you dwell on it. she kisses you again, deeper, while her hands roam over your bare waist and up to your chest. she squeezes your breasts through your bra, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they harden.

“so pretty,” she breathes. “always so pretty for me.”

you’re both breathing heavier when shoko pulls back just enough to look at suguru.

“she can join, right?” she asks, voice husky but soft.

suguru’s eyes go dark and he nods once. “yeah. come here.”

shoko grins and takes your hand, guiding you both toward him. suguru shifts on the couch, spreading his legs wider so there’s room. he pulls shoko onto his lap first, then gently tugs you until you’re straddling one of his thighs, facing shoko.

now you’re both on suguru’s lap—chest to chest, knees bracketing his thick thighs. shoko doesn’t waste time. she cups your face and kisses you again. your breasts press together, only thin fabric separating you. you can feel the heat of suguru’s body beside you, his hands resting lightly on both your waists.

suguru’s his gaze is heavy as shoko’s tongue slides into your mouth and you moan softly. then his hands start moving—one palm strokes up shoko’s back while the other caresses your side, thumb brushing just under your breast.

shoko breaks the kiss only to trail her lips along your jaw, then down to your neck. you tilt your head, gasping when she sucks lightly on your neck. suguru’s hand slides higher, finally cupping your breast from behind, squeezing gently while shoko kisses lower.

“look at you two,” suguru murmurs. “so fucking pretty together.”

his other hand rests on shoko’s hip, encouraging her as she rocks against his thigh. you’re both breathing hard, lips swollen, skin flushed. shoko pulls you back into another deep kiss, tongues tangling messily while suguru’s hands explore—one kneading your breast, the other sliding down shoko’s spine.

you feel surrounded. wanted. the jealousy from earlier slowly melts into something hotter, sweeter.

shoko smiles against your mouth and whispers, “missed you so much, baby.”

while you’re still lost in shoko’s kiss, suguru leans closer. his lips find the side of your neck. he presses open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, tongue tracing lightly as he sucks gentle marks. you whimper into shoko’s mouth, their caresses making your head spin.

suguru kisses down your shoulder, then hooks his fingers into the front of your bra and tugs it down, freeing your breasts. before you can even gasp, his hot mouth closes around your nipple.

you moan loudly, back arching instinctively. suguru sucks gently at first, then harder, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. the wet heat of his mouth combined with the slight scrape of his teeth makes your thighs shake.

shoko finally pulls back from the kiss just enough to look down between you. her eyes darken when she sees suguru’s mouth on your tit.

“fuck, that’s hot,” she breathes.

shoko watches the whole thing with dark, hooded eyes. she slides one hand down your stomach, fingers teasing the waistband of your pants. “can i touch you here?” she asks and when you nod desperately, she doesn’t hesitate.

shoko slips her hand inside your pants. her fingers immediately find how wet you already are, and she lets out a satisfied sound. “fuck… you’re so wet,” she says. “all this just for us?”

her middle finger drags slowly through your folds, gathering wetness before circling your clit with light, teasing strokes. when you twitch against her she kisses you again. shoko smiles against your lips. “so sensitive tonight.”

after a moment, shoko slides one finger lower and pushes it inside you, curling it slowly. you clench around her instantly, hips twitching forward into her hand. she adds a second finger, thrusting them in and out at a steady pace while her thumb keeps rubbing your clit.

“that’s it,” she whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth. “ride my fingers, baby. let us hear how good it feels.” shoko’s pace quickens slightly, fingers curling perfectly against that spot inside you with every thrust while she kisses you again and again, swallowing your moans.

at some point the night blurred into a haze of pleasure. you’re still on suguru’s lap, back pressed to his chest, completely drunk on them both. shoko’s fingers have been inside you for what feels like hours—curling, thrusting, rubbing your clit until you’re shaking and sobbing through another orgasm. every time you think you can’t take any more, suguru’s big hand wraps loosely around your throat, holding you in place while shoko pushes you over the edge again.

you’re their perfect little plaything tonight, and you’ve stopped pretending you want anything else.

when shoko finally pulls her fingers out, you whine at the loss, body twitching. she just smiles and brings her slick fingers to her own mouth to taste you. “she’s ready,” shoko says softly as she looks at suguru.

suguru doesn’t need to be told twice. he shifts you forward on the couch so you’re on your hands and knees, still facing shoko. his large hands grip your hips, pulling your ass back toward him. you hear the sound of his belt and zipper, then feel the blunt, fat head of his cock pressing against your soaked entrance.

shoko watches with amusement, kneeling in front of you on the couch. she takes both of your hands in hers, lacing your fingers together tightly.

“breathe, baby,” she murmurs, thumbs stroking the back of your hands. “let him in.”

suguru pushes forward and the stretch is immediate and intense. his cock is thick—much thicker than shoko’s fingers—and you feel every inch as he slowly sinks into you from behind. your mouth falls open, eyes wide as the burn blooms deep inside you. he’s so big it almost hurts, but the pleasure is hotter.

“fuck… so tight,” suguru groans lowly, voice strained as he bottoms out, hips flush against your ass.

shoko’s smile widens, clearly enjoying the way your face twists. she leans in and kisses your open mouth, swallowing the moan that finally escapes you.

“look at you,” she coos against your lips, still holding your hands. “taking his cock so well. your pretty little mouth falling open like that… so cute.”

suguru starts moving—slow, deep thrusts that rock your entire body forward with every snap of his hips. every time he drives back in, your tits bounce and your breath catches. shoko stays right there, holding both your hands firmly so you have something to anchor yourself to while suguru fucks you from behind.

“that’s it,” shoko whispers, eyes locked on your face. “let him fuck you. rock forward for me, baby… just like that.”

you do exactly what she says, pushing back to meet suguru’s thrusts and rocking forward into shoko’s space with every movement. she keeps watching, mesmerized, occasionally leaning in to kiss you while suguru’s pace gradually turns harder, deeper.

the wet sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with your moans and suguru’s grunts. shoko never lets go of your hands, squeezing them tighter every time suguru hits that perfect spot inside you and makes your eyes roll back.

“good girl,” suguru growls from behind, one hand sliding up to grip your hair gently. “taking me so fucking well.”

shoko laughs softly, pressing another kiss to your parted lips. “keep moaning like that,” she teases. “i could watch you get fucked by him all night.”

after a while, suguru slows his thrusts and pulls out with a wet sound. you whine at the sudden emptiness, but he’s already manhandling you gently, turning you around to face him. “come here.” he sits back on the couch and pulls you onto his lap so you’re straddling him, chest to chest. “ride me.”

you’re so drunk on pleasure that you barely register how quickly you obey. your hands brace on his broad shoulders as you sink down onto his thick cock again. the stretch is still intense, but your body is so wet and used that he slides in easier this time.

shoko settles on one of suguru’s thick thighs so she’s pressed flush against your back. her bare breasts are hot against your skin, nipples hard as they brush along your spine. one of her arms wraps around your waist while her other hand slides down between your bodies.

“keep riding him, baby,” she whispers right against your ear. “let me feel you.”

you start moving—slow, shaky rolls of your hips as you ride suguru’s cock. every time you sink down, he groans deeply, hands gripping your thighs to help guide you. shoko’s fingers find your clit from behind, rubbing slick circles while she grinds herself against suguru’s thigh, her soaked pussy sliding wetly over his skin.

shoko’s warm breasts press tighter against your back with every roll of her hips. her breath is hot on your neck as she kisses and bites gently along your shoulder. her fingers never stop teasing your clit, occasionally dipping lower to feel where suguru’s thick cock stretches you open.

you’re completely drunk on them. your mind has gone hazy, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as soft, helpless moans keep falling from your mouth. you barely register anything except the heat, the stretch, and the constant pleasure.

“so good,” suguru groans. his hands squeeze your hips, helping you bounce on him harder. “look at you… taking my cock so deep.”

shoko hums in agreement, pressing her chest firmer against your back as she grinds faster on his thigh. her fingers move quicker on your clit, slick sounds filling the air.

“she’s so out of it,” shoko laughs softly, kissing the back of your neck. “completely drunk on us. aren’t you, baby? just letting us use this pretty body however we like.”

you can only whimper in response, head falling back against shoko’s shoulder as you keep riding suguru.

“tell us how you like it, baby,” suguru says. “you want it deeper? faster?”

shoko leans in closer, lips brushing your ear from behind. “yeah… use your words,” she teases softly. “tell us what feels good. you want me to keep playing with your pretty clit while you ride his cock?”

you try to answer.

your mouth opens, but only a soft, hazy whimper comes out. your mind is too foggy, body too overwhelmed with pleasure. every nerve is sparking, your thoughts melted into nothing but heat and the feeling of being used so perfectly between them. you can barely form a single coherent word.

“i… ah— i…” is all you manage.

shoko lets out a quiet, fond laugh against your neck. “aww, listen to her,” she coos, clearly amused by how gone you are. “can’t even speak anymore. so cute.”

she slides her free hand up to cup your jaw, gently turning your face toward her. she kisses you again. her tongue slips into your mouth, tasting every helpless little sound you make while suguru keeps rocking you steadily on his cock.

“it’s okay, baby,” she whispers, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “you don’t have to say anything. we already know exactly what you need.”

suguru leans forward to kiss your collarbone, then looks up at shoko with dark eyes. “she’s clenching so hard around me. keep touching her. i want to feel her cum on my cock.”

shoko smiles against your skin and circles your clit faster. “don’t worry,” she purrs, voice dripping with heat. “we’re nowhere near done with her yet.”

sometime later, you’re completely spent.

your body has gone limp, limbs heavy and trembling from the endless waves of pleasure. you’ve lost count of how many times they made you cum—on suguru’s cock, on shoko’s fingers, between their mouths and hands. every inch of you feels used, warm, and satisfied in the best kind of way.

you barely have the strength to keep your eyes open anymore.

shoko notices first. she presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, brushing damp strands of hair away from your face. “you’re done, huh?” she whispers fondly, voice still a little breathless. “poor baby… we wore you out.”

you manage a tiny, hazy nod, eyes already fluttering shut. the last thing you feel is shoko carefully pulling you down onto the couch, laying you on your side so you’re comfortable. she tucks a blanket over your naked body.

“sleep. we’ve got you.”

your eyelids grow heavier. the world starts to fade. through the sleepy haze, you catch the soft sounds beside you.

shoko lets out a quiet moan as suguru pulls her closer. you barely manage to crack your eyes open just enough to see them. suguru has shoko on her back right next to you, his large body covering hers. he’s kissing her deeply, while he pushes inside her.

shoko’s back arches, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she wraps her legs around his waist. “suguru…”

he groans low in his throat, hips starting to move in deep, steady strokes. the wet sound of skin meeting skin fills the quiet room again. suguru’s hand slides up to cup shoko’s breast, thumb brushing over her nipple as he fucks her right there beside you.

shoko turns her head slightly, eyes half-lidded, and looks at your sleepy face. even as suguru thrusts into her, she reaches out and gently laces her fingers with yours, holding your hand while she gets fucked.

“goodnight, baby,” she whispers to you, voice sweet even as it breaks into a moan.

you can’t answer anymore. your eyes finally slip shut completely, the last image burned gently into your mind: suguru’s broad back moving over shoko, her hand warm in yours, the quiet sounds of them making love right beside you.

it feels strangely comforting.

you fall asleep like that—exhausted, satisfied, and wrapped in the soft afterglow of being theirs, even if only for tonight. the steady rhythm of suguru’s hips and shoko’s breathy moans lull you deeper into sleep, their presence safe beside you.

[tteokdoroki]

just wanted to plant a seed in here 🌱

riding sokka ❤️

watering the seed …

sokka likes to lie back and watch you stubbornly do all the work until you need it. arms folded behind his head, blue eyes mirthy but not cruel, lips tight with the smirk so familiar and teasing it makes your tummy do backflips. his gaze travels downwards, over your soft stomach and chest that bounces with every lewd lift and drop of your cunt down on the stretch of his girth. how you struggle to make it to the hilt every time. how he can see himself kick deep inside you.

“atta girl,” sokka purrs with pout, kind of mocking you and the manner in which your face twists with frustration because just riding him isn’t enough. “look at you go, just aching for it.” he doesn’t mind when you switch from bouncing to grinding, swirling c shapes in his lap like the rush of water around a river bend — in fact, he prefers it, because sokka knows it feels so much better for you. fuller like a glass with a never ending pour of luxurious liquor, your movements are slicker and your thighs shiner as they bracket his lap — spreading your streaming arousal across his pelvis and abs filthily.

if even for a second, you slow down to catch your breath where its rhythm hiccups, sokka lands a cheeky tap to the curve of your ass. not harsh, not painful, rather encouraging — like you would to get a pretty show pony moving when it turns sluggish. “c’mon sweetheart, don’t give up now,” he coos with the air of someone who knows what he’s doing, pulling you to pieces and being the only one who can put you back together. “are you tired? need my help?”

i think riding sokka only goes on for so long, he gets impatient. hungry. finding your wrists where your palms brace either side of your head and slotting your fingers with his. he doesn’t take over, just adds to the motion — being the wave beneath your boat as he bucks up into you, languid and leisurely. pushing his cock past the right, clenching muscle of your entrance every time you push down onto him. his moans turn open mouthed, needy and follow your cadence — higher when he brushes against your g-spot, lower when you squeeze him and milky white runs down to his balls, marrying the fabric below your tangled bodies. he moans and whines and hiccups when you do, as though your pleasure is connected in an endless feedback loop.

when he really gets impatient, sokka’s fingers land at the nape of your neck and drag you down onto him. nipples brushing, stomachs contracting against one another — he bends his legs at the knee for leverage, pumping into you with short, deep thrusts that help his blunt cockhead glide against your sensitive walls, marrying your cunt with his claim of slick pre. you’re almost always squirting in sokka’s lap because he never lets up on the pressure spots you need him to find most…

[wintertreeflower]

Sweat is already beading on your skin, rolling down the length of your spine, hair cascading down your bare back. 

Choso grabs your hand, the one placed on his chest to stabilize you, threading your fingers with his 

“Cho,” you say, pausing in your grinds, a bit concerned when you reign your free hand up to his face, touching wetness. “Are you crying?

He makes a desperate sound, hips bucking up against you. He shakes his head but its right there in his eyes, tears stuck to his long lashes. 

“So good,” he almost slurs out. “Don’t stop. Please don't stop.” 

Another needy thrust and this time you meet him, the force deep and heavy for both of you. Twin gasps releasing from both your guy’s mouths. 

“My pretty boy crying for my pussy,” you say leaning so the words brush his parted lips. His fingers clench around yours and you can feel how hard his heart is beating. 

Skirting you lips across his, mingling your guy’s breaths into one you whisper, “Tell me how good it is. Wanna hear how I'm ruining you.” 

“Holy fuck,” he groans when you ride him faster, harder, hitting in deeper. “So tight and wet. You feel like fucking heaven. Please.” 

Your lips twitch into a smile but his cock rubs against the perfect spot inside you, the one that makes you moan and fuck harder. 

“I love when you beg. Perfect boy.” 

Cho’s eyes roll back. “S-Say it again.” 

His brows are furrowed, pulled taunt. Blush high on his cheeks. Jaw slack as more whimpers leave his perfect lips. 

Your skin tingles with goosebumps, a pit forming deep in your gut where he’s hitting over and over again. 

“You’re my good boy,” you praise through your dirty moan. Something possessive overcomes you, forces you to kiss him hard like you're claiming him as yours. You don't think too hard about what it is you're feeling, but you don't restrict yourself from the fantasy. He’s yours. 

His lips are weak against yours like he doesn't have the strength to fully kiss you back. You end up dominating the kiss and it only fuels you. 

You can tell he’s close, cock throbbing, hips greedily rising to meet your thrusts. 

And you are too. Breathes coming faster, pussy clenching in a way that makes more tears catch on his lashes. 

“Want you to come in me,” you gasp, foreheads connected, breaths married. “Want to feel it, Cho.” 

“Yes, god, yes.” He’s looking at you so intensely that your stomach rolls, the intimacy plain as day. “Gonna fill you up. Have you leaking until you’re full of me.”

That’s what does it. It pushes you over the edge, orgasm crashing against you like a sudden thunderstorm. 

Hips stuttering, cunt clenching, you moan so loud you’re sure the neighbours are gonna file a noise complaint. 

“Shit baby.” Cho fucks you through it, hands moving to where your hips have gone weak, moving you on top of him just the way he likes. 

“Look at that pussy swallowing me.” 

You glance at where you’re conjoined. A filthy ring of your cum surrounds the base of his cock stretching you out. Then Choso reaches a hand, pulling back your hood so he can circle your clit as he just watches entranced. 

“One more,” he grunts out, desire barely contained. He sounds lost in the throes of pleasure, lost in the desire to stay inside you like he doesn’t want this to end. You don’t either. 

Even though you’re deflated into bones and skin, even though your legs are trembling and your head is already shaking that you can't handle it, Cho pinches your clit. And before the first orgasm has even finished another one has you crying out, back bowing, nails digging mooncrescent into his shoulder. 

“Yeah, just like that.” 

He’s pumping you with his come when your mind regains clarity, like he’d just shattered it into a million pieces. 

Warmth fills your insides and you moan at the feeling of it running down your thighs, pooling on the base of his cock like a filthy testament to your pleasure. 

Cho doesn’t look away when he pulls out. Eyes glued to where his thick cum leaks out of your stretched hole, you gasp and shudder at the feel of him gone. 

“Look at that baby,” he huffs, wicked fingers scooping whatever's coming out almost like he’s admiring that he just came inside you. 

His finger glistens with the mix of both your releases and you don't even have to think about it before you’re wrapping your lips around it and sucking it clean. 

“Hmm,” you moan. With a wet pop, “Delicious.” 

Choso looks at you like you’re the greatest christmas present he’s just unwrapped. His cock, though softening, twitches against the skin of your raw thighs. 

“You’re gonna ruin me.” 

You laugh, pushing aside the sweat strands of his bangs. “You have no idea.” 

[kamiflix]

▶︎︎ Cloud 10 (starring . avatar aang)

synopsis . Your boyfriend reaching the avatar state when he’s close. content . afab!reader, improper use of air bending, established relationship, dirty talk, missionary, pet names, he (nervously) talks you through it, praise, implied/slight breeding kink, etc.

author's note: i’d lick the sweat off his bald head if he let me.

You should’ve known something was up when the bedroom’s lanterns began to flicker.

But with the way Aang's hips snapped down against yours in such a relentlessly missionary rhythm—plump cock smothered deep within the juicily squelching walls of your pussy—it was hard to focus on anything else outside of the way he stretched you open.

HIs breaths came in searing pants against your neck, one gripping hand braced beside your head whilst his free one occupied itself with one of your thighs, tugging your leg impossibly higher around his waist just so that he could fuck you at that pinpointingly perfect angle.

"Ohhh, that's ittt, sweet girl. T-Taking me so well," Aang murmured as his eyes locked onto yours with shimmers of honest adoration visible all over them. "Keep squeezing me like that, mmgh. F-Feels good. So good." He thrusted even harder then, his breath flying out of him along with it as the wet slap of skin on skin emulated throughout the room.

His muscles tensed and his balls felt sorely heavy with each time they came plapping down against your sweat-slicked skin. The lanterns began to flicker again, brighter this time around as they cast shadows around the bedroom.

Then he leaned all the way down to smush his soft lips into yours, capturing your breath with in a messy kiss. His tongue came out to slide against yours as his firm body rocked into yours, the bed struggling to remain in place with his every move.

When his mouth left yours, he was dazed. This should've been the second signal for you. Especially as he let out a loud groan and went whispering, "Gonna breed this pretty cunt-," Instantly catching himself after and letting those soft grey eyes of his go all the more doe-like on you, "Shit... can I say that? I-Is that okay? Do you like it when I talk to you like tht?"

His hips picked up in pace, jaw going stiff as the balmy head of his cock smudged all sloppily against your cervix. Aang glanced down to see how he was disappearing into you, gasping at the obscene sight below him and then returning his eyes to yours.

"Tell me, baby. Please, talk to me. Tell me how you want me-, how you need me. I just wanna-, ohfuck—" Mid-sentence, his steady thrusts seem to derail and your cunt soaks around him to leave a sheeny layer of aroused slick all over his dick.

You're sucking him in deeper than he expected you to, and it catches him absolutely off guard. Which you notice rather quickly, batting your fucked-out eyes up at him, "Aang? Are you okay?"

"Yeah-, yes.. You just keep—" He hunches over against you—body going taut and lean muscles constricting against one another. "You keep squeezing me like that."

Begining to like seeing him struggle, "Squeezing like what?" you asked in sync with your walls clenching around the deft base of his cock.

Air puffs right out of him as if he'd been choked and his body shudders with something powerful coursing through him. You only catch it for a split second the first time it happens—a brief flash over both his markings and his eyes as his next array of groaning stammers out of him.

Following this is the flash of something wild in his eyes as they broaden, pupils dialating a fraction. Aang's head tips to the side and the plump crown of his cock slavers itself alllll around your insides, the puffy lips of your cunt left to quiver around him.

"You're so pretty-," Your loving boyfriend chuffs out, unknowingly thrusting into you harder via a burst of controlled air slapping against his backside. "H-Have I told you that? Hm?" He's asking as if he wasn't literally air bending himself into fucking you harder.

Your head just barely manages a nod, tears coating your lash line, "Nngh-, yes, Aang."

"Say it back to me then," Aang encourages. In between his breathy words, a brush of air is felt slithering against your cunt. It was almost as if his ability to seamlessly multitask was showcasing the best of his abilities via stimulating you everywhere. "Tell me how pretty my girl is, yeah?"

The sensation brings a stutter to your speech, "A-Aang, I can’t," you cry out, nails lightly scraping at his back.

He smiles halfway before his thrusting grows erratic and his jaw slacks some, "Oh. You're gushing-, shit."

You feel the way his tip pulsates inside you, his hips struggling to pull himself back for a moment long enough to give his cock a second to breathe—not that he much cared to do so anyway.

"So wet. Wanna see you cum-, wanna feel it." Aang husks, "Can you do that? Cum for me?"

"Mhmm," You nod weakly at first but within the next few seconds, as something begins to rumble distantly, you start to second guess your agreement. Mouth falling agape, “Wait, s’too much-,” you try to warn him.

He’s lost though—lost in the feel of your greedy insides begging his dick to spill enough seed into you to repopulate a nation or two at least. Aang’s unconscious manipulation of air only gets worse too, he goes from using his bending to fuck himself deeper to using it to sprawl your puffy pussy lips ‘n legs apart even wider.

You’re a stretched out mess in mere seconds, gasping his name and crying out in pleasure as your back begins arch. Then he’s chuckling all of a sudden and you swear for a moment he’s not even the same man you knew him to be.

Aang’s head cocks back some and his eyes roll back, “You can take it,” he grunts like he knows his words to be true and no argument could convince him otherwise. “You always do. Mmgh-,” He bites his lip for a second before looking down at you once more. “Can’t you feel that? The air helpin’ me fill you up? It’s-, hah.. It’s a little something I’ve been practicing.”

You pout at first, “Aang, I don’t know if-, mmgnh! Y-Your markings!”

The room illuminates with colors of spiritual blue before he notices what you’re talking about.

“What about them?” Aang asks cluelessly, his voice having changed due to the height of pleasure and energy surging through him.

Sweat drips down his body but it doesn’t even manage to touch you or the bed because he’s bending those droplets just as he was the air—completely losing himself in the feel of you and bending all sorts of shit because of it.

“They’re glowing,” You gasp.

Then his cock buries itself all the way in, every stiff inch clamped by your sappy insides, and his body comes to a sharp stop.

You knew there were… concerns when it came to having sex with your boyfriend who just so happens to be the avatar. But, no one told you he’d enter the avatar state just from cumming too hard!!

It’s while creamy gushes of cum are flooding into your poor cunt that his body is shuddering and he’s literally entering a new state of pleasure. He could hardly manage a word out or even move, the state had taken him over entirely.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little worried for him because of it, but honestly you were a tad bit distracted by how fucking hot it was.

You shouldn’t let this go to your head, really.

But who else can say their pussy sent their boyfriend into the avatar state?

That’s something to brag about!

(not proofread) banner from “Welcome to The Muscle Salon!” || tags:

@sukuchohq @chosbaby @missackerman64 @ros3xoxo @yulissacastillo11 @ashsummer @swtiijas @chxseatl @wonderfullymickey @tw0w0

@beebopbiscuit @fave-anime-fics @xxvendettaxx @iiakithegoat @hiromihigurumaswife @millenaosstuff @mel-1s-treading-carefully

additional notes: i might write some more of this tbh, we’ll see.

[yenayaps]

Rose Garden Dreams; Torn At The Seams

Pairing: FireLord!Zuko x RoyalAdvisor!Reader

Content: contrary to popular belief, the fire lord can't have everything he wants. however, even he’d admit that what he wanted was troublesome in itself, which is why he forces himself to be okay with having you by his side as his advisor. [tw: MDNI, angst/fluff/smut, apothecary diaries coded, so much yearning and longing, porn with plot, there is no power imbalance he’s afraid of your father, zuko’s a little shit tho, we’re already married in his head] wc: 4.8k

m.list | chapter one | next chapter

“You want me to do your hair?”

His lips twitch, fighting back a smile. “Yes, precisely.” 

You sigh as you step into the man’s chambers, walking up to the vanity that’s more fitting for a queen, in your opinion. If only people saw this side of the fire lord. Zuko, the pretty boy. He has zero insecurities over the scar his tyrant of a father left on his face, but he’d faint at the sight of seeing too much hair shed on the marble floors of his bathhouse. 

“When you decide to have me summoned like this, do you ever wonder, hm— what would her father think?” you ask as you grudgingly pick up the boar bristle brush and begin to brush his hair. 

“I do,” he dryly responds. “I like the way you do your hair, though, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell on me. You wouldn’t want me getting in trouble, right?” 

Zuko might be the fire lord, but he still has to watch his relationships with the other clans in this nation— especially with a certain hot-headed strategist that just so happens to be your father. You can only imagine his outburst upon learning that his daughter is playing with the lord's hair, rather than playing your role as his advisor. 

Most fathers would be pleased by the information— not yours, he’s a little more… strict. He already doesn’t like him from a joke made over a decade ago, suggesting you’d make a fine concubine, which wasn’t taken lightly. 

Your father threatened to usurp the throne, sending a chill running down a then 21 year old Zuko’s spine.

There was no way in hell he’d hand you off to the imperial palace to become a concubine. You’re the only child of his that inherited firebending. If your father had it his way, you’d be a warrior, for fucks sake. 

Lord Zuko may have a dry sense of humor at times, but you have your doubts about how much of a joke that statement was, especially with how much he likes to bug you throughout the day.

Perhaps another conflict should erupt— the man has too much time on his hands. Maybe then you’d fulfill your fathers wish of finally working in the military— put your talents to use, as he’d say. 

But would Lord Zuko allow the gentle hands running through his hair to commit such violence? Or would that be when he’d draw a hard line with the aggressive strategist? 

As progressive as he is, you sometimes wonder just how much it extends to you. Even as children, he’d go easy on you during trainings. He’s only grown softer with you as the years passed. Despite not being a concubine yourself, you wouldn’t be surprised if he saw you as one of the flowers in his garden— one he’s not allowed to touch. 

You slide the hair stick through his headpiece, securing the top knot he had you redo. It looks the same, but you hold off on making a comment. “Is that better?” 

“Much better.” His eyes meet yours in the mirror, lips curving into a sly smile. “Now— what are we doing today?”

We. You hate how much he likes to emphasize that at times. 

“Well,” you sigh. “Aside from the usual council meeting, nothing much. Perhaps you can visit one of your concubines today… for once.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Are you saying I don’t fuck my concubines enough?” 

“Precisely,” you say almost mockingly. 

It’s all they ever complain about, and honestly, you’re sure you would, too, if you were one of them. Having to wake up and sit around all day, waiting for a man who never comes. And on the rare occasion that he does, he doesn’t stay long. He’ll show up, fuck the shit out of you for a couple rounds, then leave right after. Allegedly. 

“Don’t you want an heir?” you ask. 

“Depends,” he hums. 

With the way he’s looking at you, you can already tell what it depends on, and it has nothing to do with his current concubines. Lucky for you, he never gets the chance to actually say it because he gets interrupted right after, putting a conversation you’d rather not have to a screeching halt.

“The council is waiting for you, my Lord.”

—

The silk district was notoriously known for two things: brothels and bandits. It was the wild, wild west compared to the other districts in the capital due to high crime and the growing wealth gap. The governments always kept a watchful eye on it, which was never enough in your opinion. 

Are you surprised to hear that an entire brothel, including the madame, was discovered to be slain and robbed in the early hours of this morning? Absolutely not. 

“Send more military officers to patrol the area,” the chamberlain says without hesitation. “We’ve been too lenient with them. If they want bloodshed, we’ll give them bloodshed.”

Yikes, he wants to rule the area with an iron fist when they’re already clearly struggling. You can’t help but think of how much of a dictator this guy would be if he were in Zuko’s place. 

You make eye contact with the lord, who’s sitting at the end of the table right next to you. In that brief moment, he notices the concern in your eyes and gives you a subtle nod. 

“Perhaps we can send more public aid?” you suggest. “They’ve been testing out a new rehabilitation program in Republic City as well. I’m sure the Silk District could benefit from—“

“Nonsense,” the chamberlain cuts you off, wondering why you’re even here right now— he thought you only assisted in matters within the court, not outside of it. “I-“

“Careful,” Zuko interrupts the man rather playfully as he continues to read through the scroll. “That’s the military strategist’s daughter you’re speaking to.” 

The comment makes you nearly roll your eyes, knowing the only reason why he said it was because you’re having to constantly remind him yourself when he gets too close. 

The chamberlain, however, straightens up immediately. You have no idea why it took him this long to realize it. He’s been here for nearly over a year, but at least he knows now. The chamberlain can be quite rude at times, you wouldn’t want him to slip up with your father in the room. Not only would that earn him an earful of insults that are as creative as they are hurtful, but it’d also be embarrassing on your part. 

That old man embarrasses you enough when he’s around. Following you around like a lost puppy after meetings, asking if you’ve eaten and if your superiors are treating you right, while side eyeing the fire lord himself. You’d agree so yourself that he has too much power in the court. He enjoys holding it over everyone’s head even more. It’s sickening, really.

You look at the chamberlain, who is now pouting, and offer an apologetic smile. “May I continue?” 

“Yes, of course,” the old man nods, struggling to hide his shame.

Always one for games, Zuko finds himself suppressing a laugh, which in turn makes the chamberlain’s slouch worsen. He’s grown to find more and more amusement in his daily tasks, a trait his father would definitely disapprove of— good thing he’s not here anymore. 

The rest of the meeting went by as smooth as it could be, with the fire lord, of course, praising the chancellor in the end for being so well behaved, pretending to wonder what could’ve changed his usual demeanor. The usual teasings, all while you once again found yourself thinking of how light he’s become. Even after receiving such upsetting news, he stayed calm while finding a solution. 

A humane one.

No longer the grumpy, angsty boy you grew up with. He’s actually quite charming. But you keep that to yourself.

The palace grounds are empty, as they should be during the afternoon. Everyone’s off either eating, napping, or tending to duties such as cooking or cleaning. It’s quiet, surprisingly peaceful. Your footsteps echo throughout the breezeway as Zuko defies the basic etiquette of walking ahead of you as a ruler should. Instead, the bastard walks a little slower than you. If given the opportunity, he’d turn it into a mini competition of who could walk the slowest, up until you both come to a full stop, with him looking at you all smug. 

“Your chambers are this way,” you remind the said bastard as if he’d already forgotten. 

He doesn’t bother to look back as he responds, walking down a gravel path leading directly to the flower garden. “How about we take a detour today, hm?”

You watch him for a moment, waiting to see if he’d stop. He doesn’t, and you shouldn’t be surprised by it. You’re able to catch up with him in just seconds given his slow pace, this time not bothering to walk behind him as he’s clearly in the mood to be extra stubborn today.

You’re all alone and away from the hearing distance of anyone else, yet you still choose to speak quietly as you start to gently tease the man. “What a surprise to see the king taking some time to enjoy his garden.” 

He lets out a soft laugh that fades into a hum. “Only around a select few.”

“Oh, wow,” you pretend to be impressed. “How charitable.” 

“It’s an honor that you think so,” he says, placing a hand over his chest to add to the theatrics, trying not to laugh once again. “Tell me, when was the last time you walked through here?”

You hum as you walk further into the sprawling garden filled with wooden arches covered with green vines and flowers in full bloom. “Can’t say I actually remember when.”

“That’s a shame. I had the gardener plant new rose bushes,” he murmurs. “Wanted to ask what you thought of them.” 

“I think they’re lovely,” you admit, softly pinching a petal, rubbing your thumb over the velvety skin.

He smiles. “I figured.” 

They were your favorite after all. 

Why is he like this? The garden’s already filled with enough flowers. A new section wasn’t needed. 

Again, he’s just bored.

In an attempt to keep the conversation from getting any more personal, you change the subject. “Are you looking forward to your trip to Republic City?” 

At the end of the meeting, it was decided that he’d visit with the purpose of getting more information about the new rehabilitation program the city was rolling out. While the chancellor wanted to take a more aggressive approach, he decided to take a more peaceful route. It’s admirable how hands on he’s chosen to be since taking his father's place. 

“Mhm. It’ll be nice catching up with some old friends while I’m there—“ he cuts himself off and looks at you with slight suspicion, “you’re going, right?”

You never said you would, nor did you want to, honestly. It’d be nice to take a break. “I’m sure you and some of your subordinates can handle it.” 

“Weren’t you the one who came up with the idea, though?” his tone slightly clips as he reminds you. 

“I was,” you respond tentatively, taking back your thoughts from earlier as you look him in the eyes. 

This man looks like he’s about to throw a fit. 

Zuko opens his mouth again, already knowing he shouldn’t be this pushy towards you, of all people, but he is far from perfect. 

So with a forced smile and all the resolve in the world, he murmurs, “you’re going.” 

You smile back despite feeling an annoyed heat creep up your neck, heart starting to pick up. “Alright.” 

—

Imagine being the fire lord, a literal ruler, and getting the cold shoulder from your own advisor. Every answer is so curt and clinical, and it’s going to drive him up the wall. 

Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord. Apologies, my lord.

Give him a fucking break.

As if you weren’t punishing him enough, you went ahead and had two of his concubines “accompany” him on the trip. It’s not like he can say no to that, either, since it’s considered to be one of his duties. Not to mention they both come from high-ranking families that would not be very pleased to hear of their neglect. 

So now he has to deal with two spoiled, pent-up brats hanging on him during the entirety of this flight, all while trying not to glare at the biggest brat of them all— you, as you sit directly across from him, reading probably what’s some pathetic romance novel.

This is fucking ridiculous. You haven’t looked at him once since you first sat down.

You’re no better than him. There was a strike of lightning in the direction you walked off in, and given how it was a perfectly sunny day, he’s pointing his finger at you for the damages done in the east wing, despite keeping his mouth shut on the matter. Complain about being dragged to Republic City all you want, but you still have it better than most. If you really did have it that bad, you would’ve been punished for such an offense. 

Like, seriously? Blowing shit up, like a fucking child— a terrifying one, to be frank, you are absolutely your father’s daughter— just because you had to do your job? Grow up. His grandfather’s statue was shattered in the midst of it all, thanks to you. You’re lucky he never liked the bastard.

In protest, you’re dressed like a noble's daughter rather than a member of the court. Wearing the finest silk and adorned in gold imported from the Earth nation, quietly refusing to represent your actual nation as you claim to be representing your clan— proof that you have enough power on your own to be acting like he’s actively denying you of basic human rights.

As if he even cared about your attire. Be his guest! You look fucking hot. Someone might even mistake you for one of his concubines, and he might just not correct them, since you think you’re more petty than he is.

Zuko gets pulled out of his thoughts when Concubine Aika speaks, still leaning against him and rubbing on his chest. She asked what book you were reading, which is when you finally looked up from it. 

“It’s sort of an adventure novel.” You look at the cover, speaking to her with a certain warmth you’ve been depriving him of. “It’s about a girl escaping an abusive orphanage once she turns 18 and follows her journey for the next 10 years.”

So now you’re fantasizing about leaving him? Good luck with that. 

“You look troubled, my lord,” the woman to his right, Concubine Saiyo, says. She’s leaning against him as well, now tracing her fingers along his jaw. “Are you alright?” 

“M’fine,” he murmurs, trying to fix his face as he takes a sip of sake. “It’s been a long flight.”

“There’s a private cabin you can retreat to, if you’d like,” you suggest, going back to your little book, missing the way you just made the lord’s eye twitch. 

“I know,” he says. 

It’s his airship. 

Without warning, he gets up from his seat. Was it a little rude? Perhaps. But surely the two women beside him could understand what feeling hounded could do to someone. They don’t, they do their jobs and get up as well, which he understands. However, Zuko’s not in the fucking mood right now and waves a dismissive hand. 

“No need,” he curtly says, making his way to the back of the airship. “I just want to close my eyes for a bit.” 

. . . . . .

The trip starts off strong with a banquet being held in honor of the fire lord's arrival. 

Contrary to Zuko’s wishes, nobody’s stupid enough to mistake you for one of his concubines. At least not within the circle of people you’re mingling with tonight, who all recognize your family's crest engraved on your hairpin. 

They were an ambitious bunch that spread all over once Zuko came into power— reaching amongst the highest positions within the military, medicine, and even education. 

Funny enough, your position in the court was nothing special in comparison to some of your relatives’ achievements. Some are even bothered by the fact. Being the first of all your cousins to master the art of firebending, being your grandfather's favorite solely for bending lightning with the same grace as he did in his prime, all while excelling in your studies. 

All of that potential, just wasted on being the lord’s “pet”. 

You don’t have much of an opinion on the disappointment some of them have expressed in the past, though it would’ve been nice if their words had stayed behind closed doors. You didn’t want to hear any of it. If you truly wanted to make use of that said potential, you would’ve worked directly under your father as his subordinate. 

Maybe it was the result of growing up feeling like you were enough. You have nothing to prove, and quite frankly, you’re content with having a role that really only requires you to share your opinions with a ruler that shares the same ideals as you… for the most part. 

If only he’d also agree that you two spend way too much time together. 

Luckily, you’re not required to be by his side tonight since you’re attending the banquet as a representative of your clan— something Zuko had no clue about until the moment you stepped onto the airship, which had him looking like he was about to blow a fucking gasket. He absolutely sucks at masking his frustrations. You’re surprised his concubines still had the courage to cuddle up with him. He looked like he was 2.5 seconds away from throwing you off the ship mid-flight. 

Zuko would never do that, by the way, but you’re sure he was daydreaming about it. 

But even then, with all the distance between you tonight, you can still feel his eyes on you. Just watching and waiting for you to do something he didn’t like. Very masochistic considering how he wouldn’t confront you if you did end up doing something wrong in his eyes. 

You spend the entire night avoiding eye contact, which isn’t too hard given how all you’ve done is catch up with old peers from school and relatives who’ve decided to move here to start new lives. 

The relatives you got along with, that is. 

You were enjoying yourself. Truly. Until Sokka called you over to their table. 

Funny how Zuko wasn’t looking at you then and was instead stuffing his face with spicy dumplings, then downing it with whatever liquor was in his cup. 

You walk over with two thoughts running through your head— please don’t let this man be as drunk as Sokka and Aang, and don’t let this be a conversation about how work was been. Sokka tends to ask those things at the wrong time, despite his heart being in the right place. 

This time around, it’s not Sokka.

“How’s our flaming hot lord treating you?” Aang asks, throwing an arm around a very drunk Zuko, who’s laughing his ass off over the avatar’s words for once. 

Your lips may have twitched a little, as well. Only because Aang gave even less fucks when in an inebriated state. 

“Oh, you know— the usual.” You let out a lighthearted laugh, and only you notice the way Zuko’s face momentarily drops. 

The air around him quickly screams ‘don’t fuck with me’, then settles back into something more suitable for someone who’s already had half their water weight in alcohol. 

“C’mon, you can do better than that,” Zuko forces out a laugh, leaning back in his seat. 

You laugh a little harder. “Can I?”

“Yeah, you can.” 

Sokka lets out this weird, giddy gasp because he loves drama, and cuts in. “Are you two fighting?”

“No.” 

“No.”

You and Zuko look at each other after shutting down Sokka’s question at the same time. The fake smiles you’re wearing are not helping your case at all. 

“Where’s Katara? I’ve been wondering where she’s been this whole time,” you ask in an attempt to keep the energy between you from getting any more awkward than it already is

Aang grows a little pale— the instant karma feels nice. “She’s a little sick tonight.” 

There’s a bit of fear in his voice. She’s totally pregnant. Not that you say that. Instead, you just point in some random direction behind you. “That’s terrible— my cousin actually just mentioned a bug going around. I hope she feels better soon.” 

“Thank you,” the man lets out a sigh of relief, allowing himself to be delusional for just one more night. 

“What about Toph?”

“Home. Asleep.” Sokka rolls his eyes. “She’s like a little old lady now. You’ll see her tomorrow, though, she’s been volunteering at the center.” 

“Volunteering or beating everyone into submission?” Zuko murmurs, and they all erupt in laughter. “She probably runs that place like the military.”

You find yourself starting to zone out as the conversation moves on to a different topic. You’d like to blame some of the wine you’ve been sipping on throughout the night for that. Everything starts to melt together— the live music, the endless chatter in every which direction. The only thing that pulls you out of it is seeing another one of your cousins who had just arrived, waving at you, and you don't shy away from taking that as an opportunity to excuse yourself. 

Aang and Sokka were as kind as usual when you said your goodbyes. Zuko, on the other hand, was harder to read through the pathetic excuse of a smile he gave you. One only meant to save face. 

If only he knew just how much worse he makes things sometimes. Although they’re rare, this isn’t the first fight you two have been in. Perhaps you have been a little petty towards the man, but it’s not you who grows so frustrated at someone’s anger that you begin to hold a grudge yourself. 

You arrive back to your room in the early morning with the regret of not cutting yourself off from the drinks sooner than you did. You wouldn’t say you were drunk, but you were definitely tipsy as you started to shed layers of clothes and jewelry to get in the hot bath that had been prepared prior to your return. 

Aang may be childish at times, but fuck was he a great host. Or maybe it was Katara who had all of these amenities set up for you. Candles and bath salts— you could die a happy woman right now as you settle into the stone tub, taking deep breaths, letting your muscles relax. 

Twenty minutes in, you hear rattling and heavy footsteps that seem to hit the ground with more confusion than the determination an attacker would usually have. It forces you to leave the warmth of your bath, slipping on a robe. Getting hit with annoyance rather than fear may be a little foolish. Overconfident, even. But there’s still alcohol running through your veins, and you aren’t the pride and joy of your clan for no reason— you can absolutely hold your own in a fight. 

When you walk out of the bathroom, you come face to face with exactly who you were thinking of.

“Fuck,” he looks away for a moment, regretting his decision thinking it was okay to just walk in. 

Zuko didn’t think you’d be bathing, for some odd, stupid reason. Judging by the fact that he’s still wearing his usual day clothing and his hairs not up in a bun, it’s safe to assume he went straight here after leaving the banquet. 

You let out a long sigh. “God— what are you doing here?” 

You don’t even sound mad— just disappointed that you have to see him once more before you lay your head to rest, which slightly hurts the man’s ego. Truth be told, he came here to argue with you, but even in his drunken state, he’s finding it quite difficult to do so since he looks like a fucking pervert now. 

“Your comment from earlier— what the hell was that about?” Zuko sounds more wounded than anything right now. 

You cross your arms, leaning against the door frame that connects the room to the bathroom. “What comment?”

“The usual,” he says with air quotes. “Do you not like me anymore or something?”

“You’re seriously asking me that right now?” Your face twists, just dumbfounded at this point. “You ask me that as if I don’t work for you?”

He scoffs. “So what, you’re saying I’m not your friend now?”

“I mean, yeah— you are, but I’m still your subordinate at the end of the day,” you attempt to spell it out for him, trying to get it through his brain that he can’t just act like you two are a pair of besties. 

But he just continues to argue with you. 

“Really? ‘Cause last time I checked, people don’t fight their superiors.” 

No, they do not. You’re not sure why you even tried to make that an argument, the line between you has blurred a long time ago. 

“You know what, just— forget it.”

The thing is, you're not the best at taking accountability. Most of the arguments you’ve had with him have been swept under the rug after a while. Zuko's not having that right now, though.

“Hm— actually, no— I don’t think I will,” he stubbornly says. “You have been punishing me for fucking weeks now and now you just want me to forget it?”

Punishing him?

You roll your eyes, muttering “oh my god” under your breath, not even bothering to look him straight in the eyes anymore as you walk to the nightstand and pick up a small jar of body cream. 

“We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” you say dismissively, rubbing the jasmine-scented cream into your hands. “I need to go to sleep, and so should you, honestly.”

It doesn’t matter how well he can handle his alcohol— he reeks of it. 

“I’m trying to talk to you right now so I don’t have to deal with your attitude tomorrow,” he says, as if he hasn’t had an attitude himself the last couple of weeks. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to,” you murmur back. 

What feels like minutes pass after your pathetic attempt to settle your issues with him. At first, he just lets out a sigh, trying to keep his composure, but then he laughs under his breath. 

“So that’s it?” he asks in a condescending tone. “We’re all good now?”

“Yes. Goodnight, Zuko,” you hum. 

More silence follows after. You can just feel his eyes on you despite still facing away, now reaching for some hair oil, waiting for him to leave.

He never does. Even after working the product into your hair, you have yet to hear the door to your room close, making you grow wary. 

There are many things telling you not to turn around at the moment— your blurred mind and tensed body. But even you make mistakes, lots of them with Zuko, and so you finally turn around. 

His lips are on yours. 

You don’t know how long he’d been standing directly behind you, you never even heard his footsteps. All you know is his hands are snaked behind your neck and he’s kissing you and you’re letting him.

It takes you a moment to realize you’re kissing him back— too focused on how soft his lips are, how his tongue glides across your lower lip before slipping inside, so commanding yet so gentle. 

Then you sober up— pressing your palm flat against his chest and pushing him back so you two can look at each other, eyes wide and filled with instant regret.

“What the hell was that?” you try to snap at him, but the sharp edge was dulled from the start, already fearing what’ll change between you from this moment forward. 

“I— fuck,” he stutters, taking another step back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

Immediately, you cut him off. “No, you shouldn’t have and you know that.”

“I know.” It sounds like a plea coming from him as his chest tightens. “I’m sorry.”

Even you start to look apologetic, which breaks his heart a little since you did nothing wrong. The one who crossed the line was him, after all. “You should go. You’re drunk.” 

He opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it shortly after. There was nothing to say. 

And so he slowly nods and turns around, still in shock by his own actions as he begins to walk away, leaving you to deal with the aftermath of what the fuck just happened on your own. 

This was going to be the longest work trip of your life. 

notes: i hope u guys enjoyed this first chapter!! this was supposed to be a oneshot but then ideas kept popping up in my head and i thought, why don't i just turn this into a longfic like defiance lol. the plan is to follow these two around throughout a couple arcs, with the first one being them trying to navigate their feelings and attempting to go back to normal while trying to fix the shit show in the silk district.

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All rights reserved © 2026 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform. Do not feed my works into ai and do not turn them into chat bots.

[444macca]

All the Things I Would Do, c. kamo CHAPTER 7

JJK, professor!choso x sorority!reader, college au

tw: college setting, underage drinking, mild language, voyeurism (non‑explicit), age gap/neighbor x undergrad, power imbalance foreshadowing

masterlist.

By Friday afternoon, you almost convinced yourself you had a life again.

Nobara had declared it mandatory morale night and refused to hear arguments. Maki had actually put something besides black on, which you took as a sign from God.

“We’re going out,” Nobara said, flopping onto your bed while you hunted for mascara. “Real drinks. Real boys. No Canvas. No crying about bursar emails. You, me, Maki, and the Kings.”

“I have work,” you said automatically.

“With who?” she scoffed. “The professor who owns your soul now? It’s Friday. He’ll survive one evening without you alphabetizing his traumas.”

You laughed, weak.

“You know he pays me to alphabetize his traumas,” you said. “It’s different.”

“How much?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“Enough,” you said, which was a mistake.

Her jaw dropped when you finally gave her the number.

“You’re kidding,” she said. “That’s not an assistantship, that’s…alimony.”

“It’s not that much,” you protested. “Half goes straight to rent. The rest is food and the book I should’ve bought weeks ago.”

“Still,” she said. “If he’s throwing that kind of money around, he can survive without you for one night.”

Maki leaned in from the doorway, earring half in.

“Do you actually have to be there,” she asked, “or is this the part where you invent work so you don’t have to face the concept of fun?”

You opened your mouth to joke and found yourself hesitating.

“He didn’t…say anything,” you admitted. “But he usually throws something at me to do over the weekend. And if I fall behind, I don’t have a safety net.”

“We’re not telling you to stop working,” Nobara said. “We’re telling you to come out for three hours and remember you’re a person who’s allowed to be stupid sometimes.”

You looked at your reflection.

You did look more like a person and less like a ghost. The new dress—bought with your paycheck, his advance, and approximately ten gallons of guilt— actually fit. Your hair was doing something on purpose. Your eyes had color instead of just exhaustion.

You thought of Gojo’s last text— something about “round two tonight, curb girl” and a string of emojis that should have been illegal. You thought of Megumi’s quieter, “Make sure Nobara doesn’t die.”

You thought of Kamo’s last email, the one that had hit your inbox at 9:03 a.m. the morning after you turned in your rewritten response.

Returned. Much better.

You’d stared at that for a full minute, then checked Canvas and almost fallen off your chair when you saw the 0 turned into a full score.

“Fine,” you said now. “If there’s nothing urgent when I go in, I’ll leave at five and we can go.”

“Victory,” Nobara said, throwing an arm in the air.

You smiled and tried not to think about the fact that even your free time required his permission in your head.

He clocked you the second you walked in.

You barely got past the threshold of his office before his eyes flicked up, dragged over the dress, the makeup, the effort, and went a little colder.

“That’s new,” he said.

You glanced down at yourself. “It’s just a dress.”

“For class?” he asked.

“For after,” you said, then wished you hadn’t.

He set his pen down.

“Sit.”

Your body obeyed before your brain did. You dropped into the chair, clutching your bag strap.

“I’m not keeping you long,” he said. “Unfortunately, I do need you.”

“For what?” you asked. “If it’s something I can do over the weekend, I have plans tonight and—”

He cut you off with a look.

“Your plans are irrelevant to me,” he said. “This is about mine.”

Your jaw tightened. “Okay.”

He opened a drawer, took out a blank sheet of department letterhead, and laid it flat on the desk.

“You’re going to write something for me,” he said. “Tonight.”

You laughed, short. “I already have homework.”

“This isn’t homework,” he said. “It won’t go on Canvas. It won’t be graded. It’s for me.”

The way he said for me made your pulse jump.

“What kind of ‘something’?” you asked.

“Three, four pages,” he said. “First person. No cover, no title. You write about the last time you said yes to something that wasn’t fair because you didn’t like the alternative.”

You stared at him.

“That’s specific,” you said.

“That’s the point,” he said.

“And this can’t wait until tomorrow?” you asked. “I can do it after I go out—”

“No,” he said. There wasn’t room in it for argument.

Annoyance flared. “You can’t tell me not to go.”

“I’m not your parent,” he said. “I’m telling you what you’re going to do if you want to keep what I’ve given you.”

You went still.

“So this is a threat,” you said.

“This is clarity,” he said. “You want the job, the rent covered, the groceries, my name on your transcript? You go home after class. You write. You bring it to me Monday in an envelope. No one else sees it.” A pause. “Or you go get drunk and scream on your porch. Pick one.”

“That’s not a choice,” you said quietly.

“That’s exactly what it is,” he said. “For once, no one’s lying to you about the cost.”

You swallowed.

“I already told them I’d go,” you said. “They’re expecting me.”

“They can survive one night without you buying their shots,” he said. “You, on the other hand…”

He let it trail off.

You hated how much you understood.

“You know I can’t afford to lose this,” you said. “You’re using that.”

He didn’t deny it.

“You asked me to pick you,” he said. “You did, when you walked into this office, took the envelope, signed the papers, and sent me a revised response at two in the morning because you couldn’t stand the zero. I’m just making sure you meant it.”

Your fingers dug into your knee.

“I don’t like feeling owned,” you said.

An obvious lie.

He watched you for a beat.

“You’re not owned,” he said. “You’re claimed. There’s a difference.”

Your chest tightened.

“That’s worse,” you said.

His mouth twitched. “For who?”

You glared at him.

“This is messed up,” you said. “You know that, right?”

“Probably,” he said. “Do it anyway.”

You stared at him, then at the empty sheet between you.

“I hate you,” you said.

He looked at you like he was taking inventory.

“You hate needing me,” he said. “It’s not the same.”

You didn’t answer.

You already knew which way you were going to go.

You didn’t go out.

You sat at your desk while the house shook with bass and laughter, while Nobara spammed you with increasingly dramatic selfies from the bathroom mirror, while Maki sent one text:

You good?

and then left you alone.

You wrote.

You wrote about saying yes to jobs that underpaid you because the alternative was nothing. About letting your mother guilt you into gratitude for things she should have done without a fight. About the way your stomach had dropped when he slid that first envelope across the table and how fast your hand had moved anyway.

You wrote about the class response you’d half‑assed— the one he’d bled red ink over. How you’d actually gotten the anthology, read the story, rewritten the whole thing on your floor at 1 a.m., furious, and hit send with that pathetic little if it’s not too late in the body. How your phone had buzzed the next morning with Returned. Much better, and how that stupid, stingy praise had sat under your skin all day.

You changed names. You didn’t change much else.

By the time you were done, your hands ached and your throat did too.

You printed it. Folded it once. Slipped it into the envelope he’d given you and wrote your name on the front with a hand that still trembled.

You slept hard and badly.

He didn’t make you wait.

You walked into his office Monday with the envelope in your hand and the urge to turn around already in your chest.

He held out his palm without looking up. You put it there.

“You did it,” he said. Not a question.

“Yes,” you said. “Like you told me to.”

He opened it, slid the pages out, and started reading while you sat there and tried not to watch his face.

He didn’t skim. His eyes moved line by line, jaw working, thumb smoothing the edge of the paper when he went back to reread a sentence.

Once, he huffed— almost a laugh. Once, his mouth tightened. Once, he glanced up at you, quick and sharp, before dropping back to the words.

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear.

When he finished, he set the pages down and looked at you properly.

“Stand up,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“Stand up,” he repeated.

You did, more out of reflex than obedience.

He circled the desk slowly, came to lean against the front of it, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.

For a second, he said nothing.

“You stayed home,” he said. “You wrote this. You brought it to me first thing.”

“That was the deal,” you said.

“You could have lied,” he said. “You could have gone out, hammered this together Sunday night, handed me something empty.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten away with it,” you said. “You always know when I bullshit you.”

He made a low noise at that.

“True,” he said.

He tapped the pages against his thigh.

“This,” he said, “is not empty.”

You swallowed.

“It’s…fine?” you guessed.

“It’s ugly,” he said. “Which is exactly what I asked for.”

You exhaled sharply. “You’re welcome.”

He ignored the sarcasm.

“You did what I told you,” he said, like he was testing each word. “Exactly how I told you. You let yourself be honest. You let me see it. That’s not nothing.”

You tried to shrug, but your shoulders felt tight.

“It was three pages,” you said. “Not a blood oath.”

He tilted his head.

“You’re shaking,” he said softly.

You hadn’t realized you were.

“Cold,” you lied.

He hummed.

“No,” he said. “Nerves. Good.”

“How is that good?” you demanded.

“Means it cost you something,” he said. “I don’t want what you can give everyone for free.”

Your face went hot.

“Don’t say it like that,” you said.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like—” you faltered. “You know how.”

His mouth curved, faint and dark.

“You did well,” he said quietly. “You were…very good.”

The words sank under your skin, hot and humiliating.

“Don’t,” you said, voice thinner than you wanted. “Don’t call it that.”

His gaze lingered on your face, the flush, the way your hands had curled at your sides.

He leaned in just enough that you could feel the warmth of him, not touching, but close.

“I tell you when you’ve done badly,” he said. “I’m not going to withhold this, too. You did exactly what I wanted. You were good.”

Something in your chest twisted.

“You’re messing with me,” you said.

“I’m rewarding you,” he said. “You hate being told what to do. You did it anyway. For me. That matters.”

Your pulse jumped at the way he stressed it.

“For you,” you repeated, because your mouth liked pain.

“For me,” he confirmed.

Silence buzzed between you.

“You know that response you rewrote?” he added, almost offhand. “The one you mangled the first time.”

You stiffened. “I remember.”

“It was actually good,” he said. “The version you sent at two a.m., not the cowardly one you turned in first. If you’d given me that, you’d have had full marks from the beginning.”

“Why are you telling me that now?” you asked.

“Because it proves my point,” he said. “You do better work when you stop trying to give me what you think I want and actually give me what you have.”

Your throat went tight.

“I thought you wanted me to be…good,” you said. “Perfect.”

“I want you to be honest,” he said. “Perfect is boring.”

He straightened finally, breaking the tension, and walked back behind the desk. You sat without being asked this time.

He opened a drawer, took out a thin folder, and slid your pages in. You glimpsed your own handwriting on other sheets as he did.

“What is that,” you asked, “my permanent record?”

“Call it a collection,” he said.

“You’re keeping it,” you said. “You didn’t even ask.”

“You gave it to me,” he said. “You wrote it under my instructions, with my time, on my dime. It stays here.”

“It’s mine,” you said.

He looked up.

“Is it?” he asked. “Do you want it back?”

You hesitated.

If you said yes, he’d hand it over. You’d walk out with three flimsy pages that felt heavier than anything you owned and have to decide where to hide them from your roommates, from yourself.

You shook your head.

“No,” you said. “Not right now.”

He nodded once.

“Smart,” he said. “It’s safer with me.”

“That’s debatable,” you muttered.

He let that go.

“Since you followed instructions,” he said, picking up his pen again, “you can go out next time they drag you. Assuming you’re not behind. I’m not interested in having a miserable little nun for an assistant.”

You frowned.

“You’re…allowing it,” you said.

“I’m acknowledging you earned it,” he said. “Try not to do anything that will embarrass us both.”

“Us?” you echoed.

“My name is on your paychecks,” he said. “Like it or not, you’re attached to me now. Act accordingly.”

You tried not to show how that word landed.

Attached.

You stood, legs still a bit unsteady.

“So that’s it?” you asked. “I humiliated myself on the page, you hoard it, I get one night out as a treat?”

“For now,” he said, already looking back at his notes. “We’ll see what I ask for next time.”

You stared at him.

“You’re unbelievable,” you said.

“Go to class,” he said without looking up. “And [First name]—”

You paused in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

He glanced over, eyes catching yours.

“You did well,” he said again. “Don’t ruin it by apologizing for it.”

You swallowed.

“Okay,” you said. It came out small.

You left before he could see your face.

You didn’t expect to see his name in your inbox on a Sunday.

You were still in bed, hair a mess, last night’s makeup smudged at the edges, when your phone buzzed against your cheek. You blinked gritty eyes open and squinted at the notification.

From: choso.kamo@faculty.*** Subject: Come in.

No greeting. No explanation. Just:

Bring the piece we talked about. My office. 4 p.m. Don’t be late.

You stared at it for a long second, then at the time on your screen. 12:07 p.m.

Four hours to decide whether you were actually going to go.

You thought about ignoring it. Pretending you hadn’t seen it until later, claiming you were “away from your email.” It would be true. It would also be a lie and you both knew it.

You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling.

He’d already gotten what he wanted. You’d stayed in Friday. You’d written the thing. You’d handed it over. He’d read it, praised it in that quiet way that made your skin feel too tight, and put it in his drawer.

This was extra.

You bit your lip, opened your laptop, and pulled up the copy you’d printed for yourself just in case. You slid it into a clean folder. Your hands shook more than they should have.

At 3:42, you were outside Brick Hall, wishing the wind would knock some sense into you.

At 3:58, you stood in front of his door.

You knocked.

“Come in,” he said.

You stepped inside and instantly knew this wasn’t standard office hours.

The door was closed. The blinds were tilted half‑shut, muting the light. His jacket hung on the back of the chair, sleeves rolled, tie loose. The building was nearly empty; the usual murmur of other faculty and students was noticeably absent.

He looked up from his desk.

“You’re on time,” he said. “Good.”

You held up the folder.

“You said to bring it,” you said. Your voice sounded smaller than you wanted.

“Shut the door,” he said. “Then sit.”

You did.

He reached out and took the folder from you, sliding the pages free like he already knew exactly what they contained.

“You read it again?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said.

“Good,” he said. “You’re going to read it one more time.”

“I thought you already—” you started.

“I did,” he said. “Now I want to hear it.”

The way he said want made your pulse skip.

You tried to joke. “You can read, you know.”

“I want your voice,” he said. “Not mine.”

Your mouth went dry.

“Up,” he said, gesturing to the small open space in front of his desk. “Stand there.”

You hesitated.

“Why?” you asked.

“Because if you stay sitting, you’re going to fold in on yourself until I can’t hear anything,” he said. “And because I told you to.”

You swallowed and pushed to your feet, stepping into the space he’d indicated. It was only a few feet from his chair, close enough that you could track every change in his expression.

He handed the pages back to you.

“Start,” he said.

You stared at the first line, the words you’d already agonized over once.

“I don’t like this,” you said.

He leaned back, arms folding loosely.

“You like plenty of things that are bad for you,” he said. “Consider this balance.”

“Professor Kamo—” you caught yourself.

His eyes flicked, sharp.

“You’re stalling,” he said.

You took a breath, the paper crinkling slightly in your grip.

“The last time I said yes to something that wasn’t fair,” you began, voice unsteady, “I didn’t even realize I had a choice until afterwards.”

“Louder,” he said. “I’m not across the hall.”

You swallowed and tried again, pushing the words out.

You read about the café. The hours cut. Your mother’s voice in your ear calling consequences what other people called abandonment. You read about the envelope sliding across his desk, your hand reaching for it like you’d been waiting your whole life for someone to offer you something solid, even if the cost was written in invisible ink.

You hated hearing your own sentences in the air. They sounded too naked. Too much.

At some point, you stopped hearing your voice and started hearing how quiet he was. No pen scratches, no paper shuffling. Just silence and the occasional soft exhale.

You got to the paragraph where you’d written about him without actually writing his name. The professor with the scar who kept making you choose him over yourself.

You faltered.

He noticed.

“Keep going,” he said. “Don’t edit.”

Your fingers tightened around the page.

“‘He doesn’t have to ask twice,’” you read, your cheeks burning. “‘He doesn’t even have to ask. He says it and I do it, and I hate that, and I like it, and I don’t know what that makes me.’”

The room felt too small.

You finished the last sentence. The final period landed like a drop.

Silence stretched.

You kept your eyes on the page because looking at him felt impossible.

“Look at me,” he said.

You did.

He was still leaning back in his chair, but his attention was like a hand on the back of your neck.

“Again,” he said.

Your stomach dropped.

“I’m not—” you began.

“The last paragraph,” he clarified. “From ‘He doesn’t have to ask twice.’”

Heat crawled up your throat.

“No,” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “You can do it.”

You hesitated long enough that you saw his expression shift—something like disappointment, something like expectation.

You took a breath that shook.

“He doesn’t have to ask twice,” you read, softer. “He doesn’t even have to ask. He says it and I do it, and I hate that, and I like it, and I don’t know what that makes me.”

Your voice cracked on the last four words.

He let the silence sit heavy for a few heartbeats, then pushed his chair back and stood.

Your body reacted before your brain did, a tiny step back that had nowhere to go.

He didn’t touch you.

He came around the desk and stopped just behind your shoulder, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, the faint brush of fabric when he breathed.

“Again,” he said quietly, near your ear.

Your heart hammered.

“I can’t—” you started.

“You can,” he said. “And you will. Third time’s easier.”

You closed your eyes for a second.

“He doesn’t have to ask twice,” you whispered. “He doesn’t even have to ask. He says it and I do it, and I hate that, and I like it, and I don’t know what that makes me.”

His hand came up, slow, and settled— not on your skin, but on the back of the chair in front of you, caging you in without technically touching you.

“You know what it makes you,” he said. “You just don’t want to hear it from me.”

Your pulse kicked.

“What does it make me?” you asked, hating the way the words came out small.

He hummed, low in his chest.

“Honest,” he said. “Finally.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“That’s not—” you started.

He reached around you then, fingers brushing the edge of the paper as he plucked it from your hands. The backs of his knuckles grazed your wrist, light, nothing, too much.

“You got this done fast,” he said, eyes flicking over the page. “You had it ready the next day.”

“You said you needed it,” you replied.

His mouth did that almost‑smile that never quite made it.

“Right,” he said. “I forget that’s all it takes with you.”

“That’s not....” you started.

“You don’t negotiate,” he went on, like he was cataloguing evidence. “You don’t stall. You don’t pretend you didn’t see it. I ask, and you move everything else around without making me drag it out of you.”

Heat crawled up your neck.

“That’s not normal,” you muttered.

“For me it isn’t,” he said. “Most people need convincing.”

He finally looked up, gaze catching yours and holding.

“You don’t,” he added. “You hear me and you just…do it. Exactly how I asked.”

His voice had gone softer, almost thoughtful, like he’d surprised himself.

“It’s my favorite one you have,” he said quietly.

He stepped a fraction closer, close enough that you could smell his cologne under the coffee and paper, something dark and clean that made your head feel light.

“And it’s exactly why,” he murmured, almost to himself, “I shouldn’t keep seeing what else you’ll say yes to.”

He was close enough now that you could smell his cologne under the coffee and paper, something dark and clean that made your head feel light.

His hand lifted, brushed your shoulder as if to move a stray hair out of the way. His fingers just barely touched your neck before he dropped them again.

You froze.

He didn’t apologize. He didn’t explain.

“You shake every time,” he said quietly. “You ever notice that?”

“Maybe I’m cold,” you said.

He huffed, faint.

“You’re not cold,” he said. “You’re wound up.”

You swallowed.

“That’s your fault,” you said.

“I’m aware,” he said.

You could feel your own heartbeat in your fingertips.

“Is this—” you started, then stopped.

He waited.

“Is this still…professional?” you asked, and forced yourself to say it. “Whatever this is.”

He was quiet for a moment. You could almost hear him decide.

“No,” he said. “Not anymore.”

Your breath caught.

“You’re not supposed to say that,” you whispered.

“I’m not supposed to do a lot of things,” he said. “Here we are.”

You turned your head, just enough that you could see him out of the corner of your eye. He was close enough that if either of you leaned a fraction more, you’d touch.

“You’re going to ruin my life,” you said. There wasn’t much heat in it.

He looked at you like he was cataloguing all the ways that was already true.

“You’re doing a decent job of that on your own,” he said. “I’m just…redirecting it.”

“That’s not comforting,” you said.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” he said.

He stepped back then, sudden enough that the air felt cooler.

“Sit,” he said, moving back behind the desk.

You sat, limbs still shaky.

He tapped the pages into a neat stack and slid them into your folder.

“I’m keeping my copy in the drawer,” he said. “This one stays with you. In case you forget what you’re capable of when you’re not busy trying to make everyone else comfortable.”

You stared at him.

“You’re giving it back?” you asked.

“For now,” he said. “Consider it a loan.”

You clutched the folder in your lap.

He watched you for another moment, then said, almost casually:

“You did well.”

You looked away.

“Don’t say it like that,” you muttered.

He tilted his head.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like you’re…happy,” you said.

“I am,” he said simply. “You did exactly what I wanted. I don’t get that often.”

There was a beat of silence where you couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Then, softer:

“Good girl.”

Your fingers tightened so hard around the folder you were surprised it didn’t crease.

“Don’t,” you said, a little desperate.

“Don’t what?” he asked, voice mild. “Tell the truth?”

You wanted to argue. You didn’t.

He picked his pen back up, as if the conversation had ended.

“Go home,” he said. “Eat something. Sleep. Come in on time tomorrow. I made space in my schedule for you; try not to make me regret it.”

You stood on unsteady legs.

“You can’t just…drop that and go back to grading,” you said.

He looked up once more, eyes steady, a hint of something softer there that he wasn’t bothering to hide anymore.

“Get used to it,” he said. “You asked for this.”

You left with your heart in your throat and his words echoing in your head, the word good replaying like he’d pressed a thumb to a bruise and called it a compliment.

Later, sprawled on your bed with the lights off, your phone buzzed twice in quick succession.

Nobara: you alive??? Maki: was it worth ditching us

You stared at the messages until they blurred.

Then you typed, thumbs hovering for a second before you committed:

Yeah. I think so.

You didn’t add: He said I was good.

You hit send, dropped the phone on your chest, closed your eyes, and let the word echo again, awful and perfect, exactly the way he’d said it.

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

for AANG, it’s always a tie between spirituality and sexuality. he’s always bridging the gap between the two, reasoning with you about how you’re at your most powerful when you’re orgasming. “come over. i’m making tea.” he says with an innocent smile, and when you sit down on his rugs he hands you a bowl so he can pour green tea into it made from the local flora. you sip it carefully, and he chooses then to mention, “it’s a potent aphrodisiac, did you know?” you have half a mind to spit it out. “i couldn’t believe my eyes. it’s very rare to come across it in this climate. i thought we could enjoy it together.” he muses before he takes a sip, and you watch the contours of his neck bob with the motion. “i was wondering…” he says dryly. “would you like to perform a full moon ritual with me tonight?” knowing full well you feel hot enough to shift in your seat. it inevitably devolves into what you expected, getting you alone to have his way with you. his body sweat glistening in the light as he plows you on the floor, having folded you in half, using his strength and weight to pin you. you cry things like: “more more more!” as he’s got a furrow in his brow and a grit in his teeth, determined to get you to cum on these rugs while you manifest your higher self. “i’m quite the shaman, aren’t i? you trust me to lead you down the path of enlightenment?” he exhales, grunting from the effort as you take him down to the hilt. you murmur an excited, “uh-huh! uh-huh!” while his thumb wedges between your bodies to get at your clit, asking another hard hitting question as you barely hold yourself together, “do you trust me?”

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

you’re the avatar’s keeper. at least, you feel as though everyone sees you in that role. they see how close you stand to him to talk, how he leans down into your direction, curling his great body around you during the discussion like he doesn’t want anyone to hear. they see how he reaches out to catch a sash hanging from your back, rolling the fabric between his fingers just to feel close to you as he follows closely behind you. they see the way the avatar looks down at you with layered emotions in his eyes, love, possession, fondness, reverence… it’s all there if they have the time to search. he’s not shameful about how long he’ll stare at you. they even see how the two of your handle stress, how a vein in his forehead pops out while you yip and snap at each other. he’ll never raise his voice above a firm correction, regardless if you have more passionate displays against him. he’s the avatar, he could very well banish you from any land he stands on for your crimes of dishonoring him—when in fact, he believes it to be your fiery honesty that keeps him holding it all together.

no one sees the way he herds you into his tent. how his tall and wide body is used to corral you towards the entrance. he nods and listens to how you berate him, he even mutters a vague agreement when appropriate to prove to you he’s listening. all the while you have no idea why he’s getting you alone. all any nosy passersby can see is how the avatar leads you into his chambers and ties the curtains.

“oh—oh! aang…” you melt as his name passes your lips in a lofty sigh, the courtesy of his three fingers rolling against your clit skillfully n lovingly with exactly your favorite kind of pressure to get you to relax into his futons. it’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of touch, it sends pleasant tingles throughout your body, your eyes involuntarily rolling back. all it is is a little clit play, you shouldn’t be this impressed… but it’s been such a long day n his fingers are so long and can stroke you just right. it’s a lot to resist. “what’s gotten into you?” you breathe out, arching your back when he presses his pads into your sensitive pearl.

those luminous eyes watch you calculatively in the dull firelight, “you care so much. you help me so much, you just want what’s best for me. i’m thanking you for that.”

you scoff, readjusting to lay flat and take it as your mind starts to run away with you again. “this is a thank-you? for yelling at you?”

“you’ve been working so hard, let me take care of you now.” he reasons, and you almost let him get away with saying such a thing - almost.

“oh, don’t do that thing.” you respond flippantly, focusing less on what’s between your legs and more about defending yourself. he shrugs and you can feel the shockwave travel into the softest change of pressure on your clit. he cups your mound but he stops circling his hand.

“what thing? i’m not doing a thing.”

“yeah, you are. you’re doing that really nice thing that makes me forgive you because i feel bad.” you’re on a roll now, you won’t let this go, propping yourself up on your elbows to lock eyes as you make your point.

he adjusts, surging forward in a way that swells the muscles that hold him up. you gasp near silently, but he’s close enough to hear it. he lowers his voice, darkening it as his lips ghost yours. “why can’t you just forgive me because i make you feel good?” you swoon - like some schoolgirl. his spindly middle finger dips into your wet slit.

“aang.” you attempt to steel yourself, squeeze your eyes shut when you chastise him.

“enough thinking.” he decides, and plants his mouth onto yours to swallow whatever protest you were about to spit out. he slides in finally, rupturing a broken whine from the back of your throat. he hovers over you as you tremble, adding another finger shortly after to curl n stroke your insides, just to feel you melt against him again. you’re not the avatar’s keeper, the avatar’s keeping you.

dedicated to @arachine & @cherrywineisawaltz

[ruya4four]

zuko makto ˎˊ˗ zuko x reader

ˎˊ˗ synopsis: you become rider of zuko.

ˎˊ˗ content warningsﾉtags: NSFWﾉ18+ (MDNI), explicit smut, fem!reader, firelord!zuko, p in v, cowgirl position, creampie, hair pulling, slight bickering, teasing, not proofread, lowercase intended & blue people avatar references

ˎˊ˗ author's note: based on this request!! y'all got me combining avatar and avatar 😭

the metal walls of the airship cabin hum with a low, vibrating drone that mirrors the frantic thrumming in your own chest. it’s a cramped space, smelling of engine grease, old parchment, and the smokey, spicy scent of zuko’s skin—a heat that seems to radiate off him even when he isn't trying to bend. outside the tiny porthole, the clouds are charcoal smudges against a starless sky, but inside, the world is reduced to skin and the rhythmic creak of the narrow cot. you’re perched high above him, your knees bracketed around his narrow waist, feeling like you’ve successfully tamed the most dangerous beast in the four nations.

zuko lies beneath you, his breath hitching in shallow bursts. his hands are resting tentatively on your hips, fingers twitching against your skin as you move. you’re in total control, and you can’t help the shit-eating grin that spreads across your face. it’s the kind of expression that usually gets you scolded by katara, but here, under the flickering glow of a single low-burning candle, it’s a weapon.

"you look like you’re struggling, zuko," you whisper, leaning forward until your tits—flushed with a blooming warmth—brush against his scarred chest. you move your hips in a slow circle, feeling the way his thick, veiny cock hitches inside you, dragging against your sensitive walls with a friction that makes your vision swim. "where’s all that fire lord dignity? did it stay back at the palace, or did it just melt the second i climbed on top?"

he glares at you, but there’s no real heat in his amber eyes, only a simmering, helpless desire that he’s trying his best to mask. his face is a study in restrained agony; the scar tissue around his eye ripples as he knits his brows together, and he bites his lower lip so hard a tiny bead of blood threatens to surface. you watch his throat bob as he swallows a sound, his chest heaving under your palms. the texture of his skin is a map of his history—rough in some places, silk-smooth in others—and you splay your fingers wide, wanting to feel every inch of his heartbeat.

you shift your weight, picking up the pace until the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs drowns out the airship's engines. the sound is wet and heavy, a testament to how slick you’ve become for him. your body feels light, soaring high above the mundane worries of the gaang and their endless quest, as if you’ve bonded with an ikran and taken to the skies of a distant, glowing moon. you feel like the toruk makto of this tiny room, riding the whirlwind of his cock.

"shhh," he hisses, the sound escaping through his clenched teeth. he glances nervously toward the thin wooden door that separates your cabin from the rest of the sleeping crew. "you’re being... you’re too loud. be quiet before sokka hears something."

you let out a shameless snicker, shaking your head so your hair brushes against his heated cheeks. you have no intention of being quiet. in fact, the danger of being caught only makes the ache between your legs intensify. "let them hear. let them know exactly what their precious fire lord is doing in the middle of the night."

his hand snaps up, the movement a blur of fire-nation training, and he presses his palm firmly over your mouth to stifle your next laugh. his skin is hot, smelling of cinnamon and woodsmoke, and for a second, you just stare down at him, your eyes dancing with mischief. then, you flick your tongue out, dragging it slowly across the center of his palm, tasting the salt of his skin.

zuko let out a strangled, muffled groan—and his eyes widen in disbelief at your audacity. his fingers twitch against your face, and you can feel the exact moment his patience finally snaps. the fond annoyance he usually carries for your antics evaporates, replaced by the need to reclaim the tempo of the night.

he suddenly heaves his hips upward, a powerful thrust that buries him so deep you feel the head of his cock blunt against your cervix. the sensation is overwhelming, a physical jolt that sends sparks behind your eyelids like bioluminescent flora reacting to a footfall. your head falls back, your spine arching into a delicate bow as you try to protest, but the sound is trapped behind his hand, turning into a wet, desperate whimper.

you’re drooling on his fingers now, your saliva slicking his palm as he continues to drive up into you with a relentless, punishing rhythm. he’s no longer dealing with your nonsense; he’s answering every tease with a heavy, sliding friction that makes your cunt clench and spasm around him in a losing battle for composure. he’s cussing under his breath, a string of oaths that are too low and gravelly to make out, his voice a broken rasp near your ear.

the climax hits you like a strike of lightning, a shimmering explosion of sensation that makes your entire body vibrate. you squeeze him so tight it’s almost painful, your walls pulsing against his length in a milking grip. you feel him shudder beneath you, his fingers digging into your waist with enough pressure to leave crescent moons on your skin as he finally lets go. he groans into the crook of your neck, his body racking with the force of his release as he fills you with a thick rush of seed—an accidental creampie that leaves you both breathless and trembling.

as the high begins to fade into a soft, hazy glow, you slowly collapse onto his chest, your heart hammering a frantic duet against his. you reach up with a shaky hand, cupping his flushed face and tracing the line of his jaw with your thumb. he looks so vulnerable in the aftermath, the fire lord crown replaced by messy hair and a dazed-eyed stare.

"you know, for a man who commands an entire empire, you're remarkably easy to rattle," you murmur, your voice thick with sleepiness and the honeyed ache of lingering pleasure as you nuzzle into the hollow of his throat. "all i have to do is laugh at you once and the mighty fire lord just... completely loses his head."

zuko’s face instantly floods with a deep, crimson blush that starts at his neck and works its way up to the tips of his ears. he looks away, a huff of indignant breath escaping his nose, but his hands never leave your waist. he pulls you closer instead, tucking your head under his chin with a fondness that contradicts the annoyed twitch of his brow. he leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips hot against your skin.

"you are the most frustrating person in any world," he grumbles, though he doesn’t let go. "now go to sleep before i decide to actually throw you overboard."

ˎˊ˗ makto : ride or rider

ˎˊ˗ toruk makto : rider of the great leonopteryx (avatar fauna)

ˎˊ˗ zuko makto : rider of zuko (LMFAOOO)

ˎˊ˗ ikran : mountain banshees (avatar fauna)

[ruya4four]

the air is thick (and so is he) ꩜𖦹༄ aang x reader

꩜𖦹༄ content warningsﾉtags: NSFWﾉ18+ (MDNI), explicit smut, fem!reader, pervy!aang, breeding kink, pregnancy mention, unprotected sex, creampie (x3), overstimulation, praising, lowercase intended, not proofread

꩜𖦹༄ author's note: based on request!! let me out of my cage. pls. 😭 dadaman aang also tew fine in the new movie....

the silence here is a lie. 

they tell you the air nomads were all about peace and detachment, drifting through life like clouds that never touch the earth, but the way aang is holding you right now feels like gravity being reinvented. he’s supposed to be the bridge, the monk, the vegetarian boy with the easy smile and the heavy burden, but in the dark of the sanctuary, he’s just a man who has discovered a different kind of hunger. he’s a good man, truly, the kind of soul that would weep over a broken wing, but right now his hands are bruised-purple against your hips and his eyes are dark with a craving that feels almost sacrilegious.

you used to think of him as something holy, something separate from the evil of this world. he’s the avatar, the master of four elements, the one who is meant to bring balance. but there is no balance in the way he’s folding your body into the furs, his weight a constant pressure that makes your lungs ache. he’s an airbender, but he’s moving like the tide, relentless but rhythmic, driving into you with a stamina that feels entirely supernatural. his tattoos glow faintly, blue lines tracing the curve of his muscles as he works, a divine light illuminating a very human, very pervy desperation.

"look at you," he murmurs, his voice a gravelly rasp that's so unlike the cheerful man who plays with lemurs. he’s kissing your jaw, his tongue hot and wet, tracing the line where your skin meets the cold mountain air. "my girl. my perfect, beautiful girl. you’re taking all of it, aren’t you? every bit of me."

he’s sweet with his praise, calling you precious even as he uses his bending to hitch your legs higher, pinning your knees to your chest in a mating press that leaves you completely open to him. his cock is a thick, pulsing intrusion, sliding through the slick remnants of the last two times he’s come inside you.

"i want to see it leak out of you," he whispers, his words turning filthy as he thrusts deeper, hitting that sensitive spot that makes your vision go white. "i want you so full of me that you can't even walk straight. i'm going to put so much in you that your body has no choice but to keep it. you’re going to carry my children, okay? we’re going to bring them back. all of them."

the dirty talk is a shock to your system. this is the boy who blushes at a compliment, yet here he is, describing exactly how he wants to ruin you with a clinical, pervy specificity. he’s using his airbending instinctively now, small puffs of air circulating around your sensitive spots, keeping you in a state of constant, vibrating overstimulation. your clit feels like it’s being buffeted by a storm, and your internal walls are clamping down on him in desperate pulses, trying to find some kind of release that keeps being pushed just out of reach by his tireless pace.

"please... aang... i can't—" you babble, your voice breaking as he hitches your hips even higher. your back is arching off the furs, your fingers clawing at his forearms, where the blue arrows glow. "it's too much... it's too much..."

"it's not too much," he counters, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that pins you in place. "you can take more. i know you can. i want you to feel every inch of me filling you up. i want you to remember this feeling every time you look at the sky. i’m the avatar, right? i’m supposed to restore the air nomads. and i’m starting right here. with you. i’m going to fill you so full of my seed that there won't be room for anything else."

he begins to move faster, the slow, deep grinds giving way to sharp, staccato jacks that make your entire body jolt. he’s being so sweet with his hands, cupping your face, brushing the hair back from your sweaty forehead, yet his lower body is a machine of pure, unadulterated lust. the contrast is dizzying. he’s praising you, calling you his everything, his soulmate, his world, while his hips are delivering a relentless pounding against your pelvic bone.

the overstimulation is peaking. you can feel the pressure building in your lower belly, a tight, coil of heat that’s about to snap. your breath is coming in short, ragged gasps, and the room is starting to spin. the smell of him—that sweet, peachy scent of his skin combined with the raw, salty musk of his sweat—is the only thing keeping you grounded. you’re lost in the rhythm, lost in the sheer, overwhelming presence of him.

"aang, i'm... i'm gonna—"

"go for me," he groans, his own voice hitching as he senses your climax. "let it go. squeeze me. show me how much you want it."

he delivers one final, deep thrust, his cock hitting your cervix with such force that your vision literally flashes white. your cunt clamps down on him like a vice, milk-hot and desperate, and that’s what finally breaks him. aang lets out a string of inaudible words, his back arching as he slams himself into you one last time. you feel the his third release flooding into you, a thick, scalding torrent that feels like it’s filling you to the brim. he pumps into you over and over, his balls drawing up tight against your folds, his entire body shaking with the sheer volume of his climax.

the silence that follows is thick, broken only by the sound of your frantic, synchronised breathing. aang collapses onto your chest, his weight a comforting, crushing blanket. he’s panting, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his heart beating a frantic rhythm against your own. you can feel the hot slickness of his cum beginning to overflow, a warm, wet trail sliding down your thighs and onto the blankets.

he stays inside you for a long time, unwilling to break the connection. he’s soft now, but the intimacy of the moment is even more intense than the sex was. he lifts his head, a lopsided, boyish grin returning to his face, though his eyes still hold that dark, lingering hunger. he reaches down, his fingers tracing the wetness between your legs, his touch gentle and possessive.

"i think i did it," he whispers, his voice light but filled with an underlying gravity. "i think i put enough in there to start a whole new generation."

he kisses you then, a soft, lingering press of lips that tastes like salt and peaches. he pulls back just an inch, his eyes sparkling in the dying candlelight as he watches a thick, white glob of his seed leak out of you and onto the dark furs.

"look at that," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "you’re practically wearing me. i told you, i’m not going to be the last airbender for much longer. we’ve got work to do."

i'm actually sobbing. please. what do you guys have me writing.

[angellude]

ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ. if you wanna come, give my brother some!

synopsis: the one where you’re dying to go to a frat party. you don’t want to go alone, and your best friend itadori promises to take you on one condition: you talk to his older brother. just talk, nothing crazy. of course, you never do anything half-assed.

content: MDNI. frat!choso kamo x reader, top reader x sub choso, college au, modern au, drinking, edible usage, vaping, alcohol, hookup, mutual attraction, explicit smut, slight age gap (college, reader is a freshman and choso is a senior), oral sex (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, creampie, dry humping, choso cums too soon, reader tops, teasing, crack humor, overwatch references (i have an addiction)

wc: 4.6k

a/n: art by thatsallitchief! y'all when i tell you i had so much work to do after spring break but mama got it done and is feeding y'all. except i feel like this one wound up being kind of rushed... also can you tell i've never been to a frat. they lowkey scare me which is why i would want my close personal bestie yuji itadori to accompany me to one!! anyways. i wrote most of this while half asleep soooooo sorry if there's any mistakes i missed while proofreading <333 i feel like i treat a/ns like diary entries lmfao

“pleaaaasee, itadori,” you pouted and rested your head on his shoulder, giving him puppy eyes. “please? kappa is throwing a huge one this weekend.”

itadori, who had his laptop open to his lecture notes but was really buried in his instagram reels, waved a hand. “kappa sucks anyways. weird ass frat.”

you raised a brow. “and you would know? you never go to frats, you spent every friday night playing fortnite or whatever…” you retorted, crossing your arms and slouching back in your chair. itadori scoffed in response. “modern warfare. and for your information, not every friday! sometimes i go to sig tau.”

“sig tau?”

“yeah. my older brother is a member.”

you shot up in your seat. “you have an older brother?” your jaw dropped, and itadori finally looked up from his phone. “yeah. look, dude. tung tung sahur.” he grinned, showing you his phone. you didn’t pay any attention to the brainrot he was showing you, more focused on the pressing matter at hand.

“itadori. you have an older brother who’s in a frat and you haven’t taken me yet?”

he shrugged. “i didn’t think you’d wanna go. buuuut i guess i can bring you with this weekend… on one condition.”

“anything.”

itadori grinned like how he did when he was about to steal one of your ramen cups. “talk to my brother.”

your raised brow and your smile dropped. a set up? “hell no.”

“please? i think you’ll really like him. he’s on the rugby team, he’s really tall—“

“nope. i told you, after that situationship from welcome week, men are off limits for me,” you held up a hand, shaking your head. itadori scoffed. “i wouldn’t really call fushiguro a situationship, more like a deluluship—“

“regardless! men are a no-no.”

itadori gave you a knowing look. “okay then. no frat. you can go to kappa on your own.”

you frowned at the thought of sticky floors, cheap alcohol, and being by yourself with no other friends. kugisaki and maki had no interest in coming with you to a frat. “… fine. what’s his instagram?” you gave in with a sigh.

itadori’s thumbs flew across his screen before he pulled up the page: a blank. user chosokamo. not even a profile picture.

“wow. he’s handsome,” you muttered sarcastically.

“he’s shy.”

“a shy frat guy on the rugby team? i don’t buy it.”

“you’ll see,” itadori grinned. “he’s nice. really, he’s quiet, but he’s a sweet guy. you’ll love him.”

“do i have to sleep with him or something?”

“i doubt you’ll get that far.”

you weren’t one to turn down a challenge. come friday night, you’d stalked down all of choso’s profiles. instagram, twitter, snapchat (practically nonexistent snap score), tiktok, spotify, linkedin, battle.net account. reposts of cat videos, playlists with rap and 2000s emo rock music for workouts, worked at a… plant nursery as a part time job? majored in biology with a focus in hematology. mained mizuki in overwatch.

you looked yourself over in the mirror while itadori waited outside. micro shorts, a cute halter top, some layered jewelry, shitty sneakers (in case of spills), and dolly makeup. good enough.

“come onnnnn slut!” itadori groaned outside your door. you swung it open and glared at him. “give me the goods.”

itadori rolled his eyes and slammed a red, sugarcoated gummy and pink vape in your hand. “can’t believe i’m your plug and your ride to a frat. for free.”

you scoffed, chewing the gummy. “hey, i gave you answers to the midterm, didn’t i? consider this payment. also, strawberry cloud dream?” you raised a brow at the pink device.

“it matches my hair!”

the sigma tau house was three blocks from campus and you could hear it before you saw it. it was brick and not exactly a small house, led lights in each window. red cups littered the lawn and a few guys out front were doing something that looked like it had started as a drinking game but had wound up being something entirely different.

you took a long drag of the strawberry cloud and ghosted it before braving a step inside. sticky floors, bass that vibrated your inner ear, faces you couldn’t really make out due to the low lighting.

you hadn’t even realized itadori left your side when he came back to you bearing gifts: a red solo cup. “sprite and svedka,” he grinned proudly.

you took a hesitant sip and grimaced. “holy shit. dude, this is svedka and like… a splash of sprite.”

itadori laughed and slung his arm around your shoulder. “welcome to your first frat party. okay, so, choso is in the kitchen—“

“the kitchen?”

“yeah, he doesn’t like the main room. actually, he doesn’t like coming out of his room…”

your brow furrowed. this guy didn’t sound like he belonged to a frat. then again, he studied blood. you let yuji lead you to the kitchen, shuffling past a girl who was throwing up into the trash can and right towards—

holy shit.

definitely over six feet worth of pure muscle, not too bulked but just beefy enough, eye bags, a scar on his nose bridge? no matter. dark hair that reached just below his ears, a wearing a band top and jeans. the hand holding his phone was both veiny and boney, his knuckles highlights with ridges of veins that ran down to his forearms. definitely your type. fushiguro who?

“yo, bro!” itadori smiled and waved, guiding you towards him. the man looked up, glanced at you, then looked back to his brother. “hey, yuji.”

you stood awkwardly at itadori’s side, mouth watering as you watched his older brother converse with him. his jaw was nice and defined, his lips pouted just the slightest bit…

“so this is my friend…” he finally introduced you. “the girl from my freshman year seminar i told you about? and this is my brother choso kamo, he’s a senior… right! so, um, i’m gonna go grab another drink—“

“wait, itadori!” you hissed, but he was gone in a flash. you whipped back to face his older brother, laughing nervously. “hi…”

“… hi.”

you stood in awkward silence for a moment. “so… kamo? not itadori?” you blurted out the ice breaker, and immediately regretted it. who asked a stranger about the specifics of their last name? was it the alcohol, or your nerves, or both?

“it’s… a long story…” choso looked away.

“right…” you dropped your gaze to the ground, then back up at him. you weren’t giving up. “so… itadori tells me you study biology? hematology?” a lie, obviously you’d figured out from stalking his linkedin. choso blinked up at you. “… yeah. he told you that?”

you nodded and lied through your teeth. “yeah. pretty… specific. why blood?”

choso shrugged and took a sip of whatever was in his cup. “my family has a history of blood disorders…” he murmured. “i wanted to understand it, so… i studied it.”

“oh,” you nodded slowly. it wasn’t the answer you’d expected. to be honest, you didn’t know what to expect with this guy. his head tilted up and you could make out the faintest tint of pink of his ears. “sorry. not good party conversation, huh?”

you shrugged. “i wouldn’t know. this is my first frat.”

his eyes widened. “your first— and you’re talking with me?” he scoffed. “you should go out and have fun with yuji.”

“i like talking with you,” you blurted out thanks to the 99% svedka drink in your cup. you realized how stupid you'd sounded. maybe three sentences exchanged with this guy and you liked talking with him?

he swallowed thickly. “you do…?” he mumbled, then straightened up when you nodded. “… what do you study?”

you could’ve easily ended the conversation fifteen, twenty minutes ago. once you got to the forty minute mark and had flown through three different topics of conversation with choso, you’d forgotten about your deal with itadori.

“so… mizuki?” you tilted your head. choso was smiling just the slightest bit by now. “yeah. used to main reinhardt, but his shield got nerfed.”

“so you abandoned him for support?” you laughed softly. “hey, at least you could be my d.va’s pocket healer now.”

choso raised a brow. “you play d.va? not surprised.”

you scoffed. “what’s that supposed to mean?” choso shrugged, not answering the question. “you play other video games?” he asked. you shrugged. “usually cod or fortnite with itadori. you?”

“… league of legends. on occasion.”

“ew.”

“hey!”

you busted out laughing, holding his arm for balance. you were about to make another snarky comment about his taste in video games when a head of pink hair swayed up to you guys.

“heyyyy guyssss…” he laughed and threw his arms around the both of you, effectively squishing you against choso’s firm chest. “having fun? need refills? you want—“

“yuji. go away,” choso playfully shoved his brother, earning a wide grin from your friend. “right right, of course, if you guys need anything… more drinks, condoms—“

“yuji!”

you laughed and rested your hand on choso’s chest, not having moved from where you’d been pressed against him. he tilted his head down to look at you. “sorry about him.”

“don’t apologize for him,” you smiled. “he’s an idiot, but i'm getting used to it.”

“yeah? how’s that going?” choso smirked, earning another small laugh from you. “not well.”

choso hummed. “try living with him for 19 years.”

“huh?” you tilted your head. the music had been turned up impossibly louder. choso leaned in and spoke a little louder in your ear. “i said, try living with him for 19 years.”

you laughed softly, the alcohol making you bubbly and flirty. “it’s loud in here.”

“it is,” he agreed, setting his cup down. “you wanna go up to my room?” he blurted out, then stilled. “i mean… just ‘cause it’s quieter. and i have my xbox so we can play games. not ‘cause… i mean— unless you’d—“

you suddenly felt sobered up. this had just been a stupid challenge, you remembered, but now it was real. “choso,” you cut him off, then nodded with a small smile. “lead the way.”

on your way up the stairs, led by choso holding your hand. you glanced down at the party to find itadori’s jaw dropped as he stared up at you, then he gave you a thumbs up and a big smile. you pretended you didn’t see him.

choso’s hand immediately left yours as soon as you were in his room. assuming he was undressing or tidying up his bed or something, you looked around his room. my chemical romance and deftones posters, textbooks, a bonsai tree.

then you heard the xbox turning on. you whipped around to find him sitting in his beanbag, thumbing the controller and looking up at you expectantly.

oh my god. he was actually serious about playing video games.

you glanced at him, then the tv. “you’re… serious?”

he furrowed his brow. “why wouldn’t i be?”

you pushed aside the ache between your thighs and settled next to him in his beanbag, noticing how he tensed up a little. you took the second controller and resigned yourself to the fact that instead of getting laid tonight, you’d be queuing up in ranked.

you were terrible at overwatch on console. you were used to pc and were still getting used to the controls. “you just walked into the enemy team,” choso muttered.

“excuse me. i’m tanking.”

“your kd is tanking, you mean.”

you frowned. “i’m used to pc, okay?”

“here,” he actually smiled, scooting closer behind you, wrapping his arms around yours and placing his hands over yours. “okay, left stick moves,” he mumbled in your ear. “right stick is for camera. this button shoots. this one’s your ult. you good?”

you glanced up at him, your faces inches away from each other. “yeah…” you murmured, looking back to the screen and playing better now that you knew the controls. “like this?”

“yeah, just like that… good.”

your thighs squeezed together, and you blushed as you realized he was close enough to probably feel it. you glanced back up at him, hearing your character die on the screen as you lost focus. choso didn’t comment, only staring down at you. he was close, close enough that you could make out the little scar on the bridge of his nose, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his lips had parted just a bit.

without thinking, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. both controllers clattered to the floor.

choso was quick and eager, returning the kiss and grabbing your waist. his tongue slipped into your mouth, rubbing against yours as he grunted with effort. you felt his cock straining against his jeans as he almost rutted against your thigh.

he caught himself, though, and pulled away panting softly, his lips glossed with your saliva. “s-sorry, that was—“

you shut him up with another kiss, pulling him close and swinging your leg over so you were straddling his lap. he groaned and pulled you closer, grinding up into you. you rolled your hips in response, and a high pitched noise bubbled up from his throat.

you pulled away to find him beet red with wide eyes. “that wasn’t—“

“you whimpered.”

his face scrunched up a bit. "what? no, i didn't-"

his protest was cut off as you rolled your hips again, an undeniable, broken, high pitched noise spilled from his lips. his fingers dug into your waist, trying to hold you still as he looked away, his cheeks flushed.

"oh my god," you half breathed out, half laughed out. "you're serious."

"stop." his voice held no conviction, his body betraying him as you felt his hips bucking up and rubbing up against you just the slightest bit.

you smirked and lifted your hips, pulling off of him. "fine," you murmured, and he immediately got the look of a kicked puppy, instinctively reaching for your waist again. "wait, no, don't-"

he paused as you got on your knees in front of him, running a hand through your hair to push it back. "... oh," he murmured, his hand sifting into your hair as you undid his jeans. his breath audibly hitched when you pulled his boxers down, his cock slapping up against his abs. he was already throbbing in your hand and beading pre, which you thumbed and smeared over his flared head.

“fuck…” he groaned, spreading his legs further apart. you looked up at him through your lashes. “sensitive?” you teased, and he only managed a nod in response.

you hummed and gently pumped him, barely even that. deciding to tease, you basically ghosted your fingers over his length, then leaned in and pressed a little wet kiss to his leaking tip.

“mm-hm!” his hips bucked up and a whine bubbled up from his chest. his tip prodded at your lips, and you took the opportunity to close your lips around him and sink your head down just a few inches. he was already a whining mess, tugging at your hair as his thighs tensed.

“fuck—“ he groaned after not even a minute. “wait, wait, wait— ‘m not gonna—“

you pulled off of him, lips still connected to his cock by a string of saliva. “don’t tell me you’re already close,” you raised a brow.

he huffed a small, nervous laugh. “i… think i am…” and judging by how he looked, he wasn’t lying. dark hair sticking with sweat to his forehead just a bit, his chest rising and falling as he panted, his flushed skin, face and ears tinted pink.

“that fast?” a shit-eating grin tugged at your lips.

he groaned and let his head fall back, scrubbing his free hand down his face. “you were just…!” he protested, gesturing vaguely to his lap, then you.

you hummed. “fair.” you moved to take him back into your mouth, but a tug on your hair stopped you. frowning, you protested. “what…?”

his chest was still heavy with his panting, his hips twitching up into the air. “just— i won’t last if you keep—“

“so?” you shrugged, dropping your gaze back to where your hand was wrapped around him. you stuck out your tongue and let a glob of spit spill to his tip, then smeared it along his slit. “i know i was teasing you, but i don’t care. really.”

he groaned and tugged at your hair again, then reached down and pulled you up by your arms, making you squeak in surprise. “choso—!”

“not like this…” he grunted, hoisting you up effortlessly, holding your legs around his waist as he stood. “wanna make you feel good first…” he mumbled shyly into your neck, setting you down on the bed and kissing down your body. his lips left a wet, cool trail on your skin, goosebumps following.

your stomach did a flip. itadori was right… he really was sweet. your expression softened. “you don’t have to—“

“i want to,” he mumbled against your inner thigh, his lips suckling gently at the skin there. he hesitated, pulling just an inch away and gazing up at you like he was already drunk on you. “… is that okay?”

your heart flopped around in your chest. “yeah…” you sighed out softly. he nodded and carefully undid the button and zipper of your jeans, pulling them down with your panties.

“holy shit…” he mumbled aloud, probably meaning to keep that in his head. he reached up hesitantly and gently spread your drooling folds with his fingers. he glanced back up at you with wider puppy eyes, quietly asking for permission.

you nodded, fingers threading into his dark locks. “go ahead.”

he didn’t waste a second, pressing a wet kiss to your clit before suckling the bud between his lips.

“fuck—!” your knees jerked up along with your hips. "oh my god, where the fuck did you-?"

"mmph," he grunted against your cunt. "'m not a virgin, y'know,"

your cheeks flushed. "yeah, i knew that..." you grumbled, even though up until about five seconds ago you'd figured he hadn't felt the touch of a woman before. he huffed against you and picked up his pace as if he now had something to prove, his tongue delving between your folds and slurping up every drop of your slick. his thumb came to rub quick little circles into your swollen bud, leaving you fisting at his hair.

"choso- holy shit-"

"mmf..." he grunted, his hips jerking against the mattress. he kept humming and grunting in both the effort of eating you out and the pleasure from grinding against his bed, the vibrations shooting through you and making your back arch.

he definitely knew what he was doing, at least with you. every time your hips jerked up or your thighs twitched or you tugged at his hair, he chased it, learning you in real time. his hand slid up your stomach, grabbing a fistful of your top to ground himself. he was practically humping the mattress, desperate for friction to soothe his throbbing cock.

you were too lost in your own cloud of pleasure to even notice it. one hand fisted at his hair, keeping his face buried in your pussy, the other fisted at the sheets. "f-fuck, cho- 'm close..."

he groaned and grabbed your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to his face. "c'mon." you could barely make out what he said, his voice was so muffled. he sucked harshly on your clit, then brought his hand to plunge two deft fingers into your hole, bullying your g-spot. "c'mon, give it t'me... please..."

you came with a whine of his name, your back arching and obscene squelching noises coming from where choso’s tongue met your sticky walls. he groaned loudly, his jaw going slack for a moment, and the moment the mattress stopped squeaking was when you realized it had been making noise at all.

he shuddered a bit, pulling away from you with glossy lips, your cum dripping down his chin. your hazy gaze raked down his body as he sat up, finding a dark patch in his boxers.

you couldn’t help the laugh you exhaled. “did you seriously cum in your pants from eating me out?”

choso was beet red again, red crawling up his neck. “shut up.”

biting your lip, you smiled and crawled forward, slowly and deliberately, like a jaguar stalking her prey. choso gulped visibly, almost shrinking back a little, but his body froze up in fear... or excitement. or both.

"you couldn't even wait..." you smirked, tilting his chin up once you were on top of him. your fingers ghosted down his shirt, feeling his abs, dipping below his waistband.

choso let out a shaky breath, bringing his hands to hover over your waist, as if he wanted to grab on but he wasn't sure if he was allowed to. "i- i tried..." he murmured, the tips of his ears blushing pink.

your smirk widened. "didn't seem like it."

he swallowed hard at that, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. your fingers teased right at his trail, waiting until he was bucking up into you to pull his waistband down. he was still rock hard and throbbing, sticky cum dripping down the veins of his cock.

you bit your lip and smiled, your eyes lighting up at the sight of him like you'd just won the lottery. "mmh..." you moved your hips to hover over him, and he finally grabbed onto the swell of your hips.

"wait-" he stammered out. "... protection? i have condoms-"

"fuck that, 'm on the pill," you muttered, tossing your hair back and moving to sink down on him.

"are you s- ohhhhmygod..." he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut and his brow knitting as you enveloped him with a sweet squelchh! the stretch dragged a little whine out of you, and you bit your lip to hold it back. you bottomed out, ass flush to his thighs, and took a moment to stare at him. panting, flushed, brow seemingly permanently knotted upwards.

"choso."

"one second."

"are you seriously trying to not cum already?"

he whined and let his head fall back to the mattress, already humiliated from cumming in his pants, and now you were just being cruel. "just- give me a second, okay? jesus..." he panted.

you gave him a second, waiting patiently. then two, three, four, five...

you rolled your hips, and his hands flew to your waist. "fuuuuckk...!" he rasped, lifting his head to glare up at you, only to find you with a shit eating grin. "theerre he is..." you purred, rolling your hips again.

"please-" he whined into the back of his hand after throwing it over his face. "please, i just need a minute, 'm not gonna-"

"choso," you pulled his hand away, staring down at him. your free hand smoothed over his chest, feeling his heart banging against his ribcage. "look at me. you're doing so good..."

the sound that left him was sharp, broken, and obviously he hadn't meant to let it slip out. something like a whimper crossed with a groan and maybe even a little sob. his hips bucked up into you, your hole squelching softly. "don't say that..." he murmured, his face hot.

"takin' me so well, stretchin' me out..." you purred, just to see his reaction. it was gold, of course, another whine spilling past his lips. his fingers dug into the fat of your hips, not stopping you, just holding on for dear life. "you're doing that on purpose," he accused breathlessly.

"obviously."

you took his hands from your hips and brought them up to the curve below your breast, letting him hold you where he could feel your heartbeat. then, bracing your own hands on his chest, you leaned forward a bit, glancing down at where his cock disappeared between your drenched folds. little bubbles of pre foamed at where he did.

you dragged your hips up, then sunk down-

"fuck-" choso's breath hitched, and his bit his lip to keep from being loud. his jaw clenched, his eyes were shut tight like if he didn't look at you, maybe, just maybe, he could keep himself from cumming right now.

"you can be loud, cho. no one's gonna hear you over the party downstairs."

he swallowed thickly and nodded. "right, right..."

"and open your eyes. wan' you to watch me ride your cock."

he twitched inside you, and he huffed. "can you not-"

you rose and dropped your hips to shut him up, and a broken whine interrupted whatever complaint he had. and you didn't stop there, speeding up and bouncing on him without any pauses.

"shit, shit, oh my- fuuckk-" it dragged out of him. long and dissolving. his head pressed back into the pillow, his hands flexing against your waist. "okay. okay, okay, okay-"

your hands moved from his chest up to his hair, fisting his soft locks in both hands like handlebars. he whined and hugged you to his chest, burying his face in your neck.

"cho-"

"don't stop, please..." he almost cried into your neck. "please don't stop, feels s-s'good, 'm... fuuck, 'm not gonna last..." he dragged his words out with soft whines.

you felt it building in your stomach too. it was impossible to ignore at this point, the way his cock was rubbing up on your gummy spot and smearing globs of his precum over it.

"yeah?" you managed to pant out, dipping your head down to gently nip at his earlobe. "you gonna fill me up? hm?"

"hngh- fuck-"

you sped up, sweaty skin slapping against sweaty skin as he began to buck up desperately into you.

"hm? can't hear you, cho. i asked if you're gonna cum inside me," you panted. choso was panting heavily, his gaze trained on where your pussy lips stretched and drooled around his cock, bouncing up and down.

squelch!

squelchh!

squelchhh!

he finally slammed his hips up into you, his head thrown back as a strained cry spilled from his raw lips. "h-hngh- 'm cumming- cumming-!!" his cock throbbed and twitched against your velvet walls, spurting and sticking his seed to your walls. "oh my god..." he panted, hips hips rutting up in aftershock, mushroomy tip smearing his sticky white allllll around your walls till he was leaking out of you.

you followed close behind, your fingers twisting in his hair, back arching and head tilting back. your poor hole quivered around him, squeezing his swollen cock in quick pulses. you glanced back in the mirror to find sticky patches of white dripping down your inner thighs, and your jaw dropped.

you looked back down at him underneath you: totally fucked out, half lidded eyes, chewed and raw lips parted, drool slicking down from the corners of his mouth. "that was..." he rasped, then closed his eyes.

"yeah..." you exhaled a small laugh, still catching your breath. you pulled off of him with a lewd drag, then plopped down beside him. his hand subconsciously came up to your hair, sifting into your locks, and you wondered if he was even awake at this point.

careful not to wake him up, you reached across him to the nightstand for his phone, hovering it over his face for the face ID. you scrolled to his messages to add your number, then furrowed your brow as you saw his group chat being blown up.

SIGMA TAU BROTHERHOOD 🔥💪🍻 todo aoi: CHOSO GETTING CHEEKS TN YO todo aoi: I SAW HIM TAKE A GIRL UPSTAIRS itadori yuji: i set it up hb of the year over here naoya zenin: kamo actually pulled? no way LMFAOOOOO kinji hakari: STOP CALLIN MY PHONE SHE GETTIN FUCKED TN😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹 naoya zenin: yo this mf got negative aura how did this happen todo aoi: CHOSO BROTHER I'M SO PROUD naoya zenin: i'm serious bro wtf

you snorted and tossed his phone to the side, burrowing your face into choso's neck and snuggling into him. the party thumped on downstairs. for once, though you'd hate to admit it out loud, you could say itadori was right. you were glad you didn't go to kappa.

© all writing belongs to angellude. all characters belong to gege akutami.

[eikyuuni]

plspls post more yuta content the world lacks of it ><

random thought, but i'm WEAK for the way yuta would look up at you when his face is buried in your pussy

he’s between your thighs with his tongue dragging through your slick folds in slow, thorough strokes. and he's messy... making these wet obscene sounds every time he pulls back just enough to breathe and then diving right back in. his nose bumps your clit every now and then, and the accidental little rub makes your whole body jolt

then there's his eyes... ooooh his eyes... wide... soft... locked on your face the WHOLE time

every time a moan slips out of you, yuta’s hand on your thigh tightens—fingers digging in, firm enough to keep your leg open, firm enough to remind you you’re not getting to close up and hide. his other hand slides to your stomach, warm and steady, and when your fingers fumble for something to hold onto, he just… finds you. threads his fingers with yours and keeps you there with him

his mouth seals over your clit and sucks. your breath breaks hard enough that you turn your head away on instinct. completely overwhelmed

yuta pauses just enough to lift his face a fraction, lips shiny, eyes still fixed on you like he’s not even sure how to look away

“hey,” he whispers, “look at me.”

you shake your head, already trembling. “yuta—”

and before you can even say anything else, his tongue swipes through your pussy again, making your hips jerk up. your body trying to meet him halfway. you make another sound, your hand reaching down, trying to push him away because it’s too much, because you can’t take being watched like this

yuta catches your wrist before you can even reach him

“don’t,” he murmurs, “please— don’t make me stop.”

his mouth is back on you instantly, his nose bumping against your clit again as he moves lower, tongue pushing into your pussy this time

he never looks away from you, not once. you try to look away again, and he just tightens his hand in yours, thumb stroking your knuckles

“watch,” he whispers as he pulls away again, voice oh so soft as he presses a gentle kiss to your clit. “i wanna see you.”