little polaris

The first time Aang got you out of the house to teach you, he was all smiles.

Bright and hopeful, excited to share something that mattered to him. You don’t think you’d ever seen him look that happy, especially by the fourth attempt.

Airbending.

The others thought you might pick something up eventually. Water, earth, maybe even fire, but nothing ever came of it. And deep down, you knew nothing ever would.

You weren’t a bender.

You weren’t going to wake up one day and move the ground beneath your feet, or shift water with your hands, or throw fire. It wasn’t something you could learn. It wasn’t something anyone could promise you. You weren't born to be able to bend.

But Aang didn’t let it go.

And you didn’t have the heart to take that from him, no matter how much it pained you.

So you let him pull you out of the tower you’d been calling home for years now and take you to the Southern Air Temple.

You’d been there before, back when it was you, Katara, and Sokka, following him around while he showed you around. You’d seen far greater things, but the temple in ruins always settled heavily in your heart. It felt different now. More overgrown. Quieter.

Still beautiful though.

And you knew how much it meant to him.

You ran your hand along one of the columns as you walked, the stone cool under your fingers. You wondered if he ever thought about what this place used to be. If being here made it harder or easier.

“Okay,” Aang says, clapping his hands together as he turns to you. “Airbending. My area of expertise.”

His grin widens. And just like that, he looks like himself again.

You cross your arms loosely, raising a brow at him. “Confident?”

He moves past you, then circles back, positioning himself a few feet away. His posture shifts without him thinking about it. He looks lighter on his feet, shoulders relaxed, arms loose at his sides.

“I have to be,” Aang says easily. “I’ve only been doing this my whole life.” He steps back a little, giving you space. “Besides, you've made it through three trials. You haven't given up.”

“Three failures,” you correct.

“Three attempts,” he says, like it matters.

You sigh, finding your sandals more interesting, the dirt beneath them crunching with every press-down you make. You're pulled out of the hole you begin making up in your mind when Aang claps loudly again. The crack had made you flinch.

“Okay! Airbending isn’t about forcing anything,” he starts. “That’s why it’s hard to explain. You don’t grab it like the earth beneath your feet, or push it like fire. You… move with it.”

You nod, even if you don’t fully get it.

He gestures for you to stand straighter. “Feet apart. Don't stand too stiffly. You don’t want to lock yourself in place.”

You adjust, trying to copy him.

“Good,” he says. “Now, don’t think about making something happen. Just focus on what’s already there.”

“The air,” you say.

“Yeah.” He gives a small nod. “It’s everywhere. You don’t need to have a source like water or earth. You just… connect to it.”

You take a breath, slower this time.

Behind him, the wind moves through the open temple, brushing past the columns, slipping through broken archways. You can feel it on your skin, faint but constant.

“Okay,” he says. “Follow me.”

He steps into motion, slow and controlled. His arms move in a wide circle, like he’s tracing something invisible.

You mirror him. At least, you try to. Your movements feel heavier. Less natural. Like you’re thinking about every step instead of letting it happen.

“Loosen up,” he says gently. “You’re resisting it.”

“I’m not trying to,” you mutter.

“I know...”

You exhale, forcing yourself to relax your shoulders. Your arms follow his again, slower this time, less rigid. You shift, trying to follow what he’s doing again.

“Better?”

“Yeah. That’s good,” he says. “Now just…move your arms. Slow at first.”

You copy him, lifting your hands and pushing them forward in the same motion he just showed you.

Nothing happens.

You try again.

Still nothing.

Aang doesn’t say anything right away. He just watches on, further heightening the fact that you were aware he was observing your every move.

“Try not to think about it too much,” he says after a second.

You let out a small breath. “That’s kind of hard not to, especially when I’m trying to make something happen.”

“I know,” he says. “But if you focus on making it happen, it won’t.”

You glance at him. “That doesn’t sound very helpful.”

He laughs. “It’s true, though. Don’t think on it too much.”

You shake your head a little, but you try again anyway. This time slower.

Less stiff, more loose.

Going with the flow.

For a second, it almost feels right.

Almost.

“Now shift your weight,” he adds. “Don’t stay rooted. Airbenders don’t stand still if they can help it.”

You step lightly to the side, copying the way he moves. He’s already adjusted, already onto the next move before you've barely finished the previous action.

You’re a step behind. Always a step behind. Never able to keep up with the rest of them.

“Okay,” he says. “Now guide it.”

Your arms move through the air, and for a second, you almost think you feel something pulse within your palms.

But it’s gone before you can figure out what it might be.

Probably nothing to be honest.

You drop your hands with a huff. “Yeah. Still nothing.”

Aang steps closer, not an ounce of discouragement on his face. “That’s okay. It takes time. With more practice, you're bound to get something out of it. It gets easier. Trust me.”

“For you maybe,” you say. “You’ve been doing this since you were a kid.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn something from it.”

You give him a look. “Aang, I can’t move a leaf, I couldn't shift the water from the stream, I couldn't move the stupid pebble that Toph had me attempt to move. Zuko even tried having me light the fire for the camp we set up. We almost froze. I can't move anything!”

“Not yet,” he corrects. Oh, how you wonder where he gets his patience and his calm from? Something you were surely running out of.

You sigh, but there’s no real frustration behind it. Yet, anyway.

He hesitates for a second, then moves behind you. “Can I?” he asks.

You nod. His hands hover near yours before settling lightly over them. Gentle, warm to the touch.

“Let me guide you,” he says.

You feel him push your arms through the same motions as before. Slower this time. More steady.

“Breathe,” he adds quietly. The warmth of his words tickles your ear.

You try to match his pace, his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

The air moves around you, brushing past your arms, your face. You can feel the wind, how it responds to him. The subtle breeze he lets swim in and out through your hair.

“Feel that?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

You almost laugh at the sensation, but you keep going. Letting your hands move with his instead of trying to lead on your own.

For a second, the motions feel easier. Like you’re not working as hard to exert them, act them out.

There's barely anything happening. Most of which is done by Aang. But the air in front of your hands stirs.

You pause.

“Did you—”

“I saw it,” Aang says quickly, a little quieter now. “Keep going.”

Your focus breaks.

And just like that, it’s gone. You let your arms fall.

“Of course.” You huff in defeat.

Aang doesn’t move away right away. “You felt it, though, right?” he asks.

“Barely.”

“It’s still something.”

You turn your head slightly, glancing back at him. “It only worked because you were helping. I’m not even sure that was me just now.”

“Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe you just needed to stop trying so hard.”

You don’t answer that.

After a second, his hands drop away from yours. You miss the warmth of them in an instant. The lack of his touch makes you want to pull him close again.

“Do you want to try again?” he asks. Chin dipping to try and get your eyes to meet his own. They don't. He looks down at the ground before waiting for your response.

You look at your hands, then back at him.

“Maybe later, if that’s okay.”

"It's okay. We can take a break."

-

The hill you found and settled on feels nice and cool underneath your touch as the sun dips.

Long shadows stretch across the mountains, swallowing the land around them, making it quieter. Emptier. At peace.

You and Aang sit side by side, and you disturb a patch of grass by pulling grass stems from the ground. You'd guess your anxiety was to blame for impulsively messing with perfectly good grass. Aang had lain back, eyes darting up at the sky. His thoughts wandering, you'd guess as much, seeing as his fingers stopped tapping against his stomach.

For a while, neither of you speaks.

The wind moves gently through the open air, brushing past softly, reminding you of the reason for being there in the first place. You figured Aang could've been reminded of home. Of everything he lost, but who were you to speak for him?

Aang exhales slowly.

“It’s weird,” he says.

You glance at him. “What is?”

He doesn’t look at you. Just out.

“The sky. The temple, all the antiques we keep finding. Everything.”

His fingers curl slightly against the grass as he sits up.

“I used to think the temples would always feel full,” he admits. “Like, no matter what happened… I could come back, and it’d still feel like home. Still… alive.” There’s a pause. “But it only reminds me of how everyone I've ever known...is gone.”

That lands heavier than anything he’s said all day.

You don’t interrupt. You just listen.

“They’re gone,” he continues, voice quieter now. “The monks. My friends. Gyatso. The stories they all used to tell, the way we used to celebrate, the food we would eat… even the stupid games we played.” A soft, broken laugh slips out of him. “I’m the only one left who remembers any of it.”

Your chest tightens.

“I don’t even know if I remember it right anymore.” He finally looks down at his hands. "I keep thinking that if I die, my culture dies with me. What if I forget something important?” he whispers. “What if it all just… disappears with me? No one but me can carry on my past. My whole life rests in my hands.”

There it is. His fear. It hits you harder than you expected. Because for once, this isn’t about being the Avatar.

This is just a boy, a man now, sitting in the ruins of his home, terrified of being the last voice of his people.

You don’t think. You don’t weigh your next words. You just… say it.

“Then I’ll carry it with you.”

Aang freezes.

You don’t stop.

“I’ll learn it,” you add quickly, heart racing now. “All of it. The stories, the traditions... Whatever you remember, I’ll remember too. I won’t let it disappear.”

He’s staring at you now.

Completely still. Like he’s not sure he heard you right.

“And if you’re worried about it ending…” You hesitate, then push through it anyway, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

“I’ll give you a legacy.”

The silence falls heavily on you both. You look out into the valley, feeling the wind settle.

And the second it leaves your mouth, you second-guess your words.

Oh.

Oh no.

Your breath catches. “I-I didn’t mean—”

Aang’s expression changes.

“You’d… What?” he asks softly.

You shake your head quickly, heat rushing to your face. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just mean, I mean I did, but not—” you let out a nervous breath, stumbling over yourself. “I just meant I’d help. However you needed, I—”

“You’d give me children?” he interrupts.

That stops you. Your mouth opens agape, then shuts.

His voice is so quiet you almost miss it. You look at him properly now. Really take in the man before you. Give him children? You'd be stupid not to want a family with him.

Something in your chest settles warmly.

“Yeah,” you say, softer this time. “If you wanted me to. The only thing I could really give back.” You release a nervous laugh.

Aang’s eyes search yours, like he’s trying to find any sign of hesitation. Doubt. Anything that screamed that you were just trying to make up for what you lacked in, but you weren't

There isn’t any. Because you meant it. Even if you didn’t take into account how much you did until just now.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, but there’s no strength behind it. No real push. No malice. Just a hint of genuineness.

“I know,” you reply. A beat. “I want to, though.”

That hits him harder than anything else.

You see it in the way his breath stutters slightly, the way his shoulders drop just a fraction, like something inside him is loosening up for the first time all day.

“You’d really…” he starts, then stops, swallowing. “…you’d learn everything?”

You nod. “Everything you’re willing to teach me.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then his hand reaches for yours. Slowly, hesitant. Like he’s still asking permission to touch you, when he has every right to. When you don’t pull away, his fingers tighten slightly around yours.

“That means a lot to me, Y/n,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "I never even considered the idea of having children right now.

You smile, just a little. “I figured. It looked like your heart stopped for a second there.”

A soft huff of breath leaves him. almost a laugh, but not quite.

The wind returns, gentle once more, curling around the two of you as if it felt the heaviness settle between you. Like it had listened in.

Aang glances down at your joined hands, then back up at you.

For once, he doesn’t try to turn it into a joke right away. He just looks at you.

Like he’s still catching up to what you said and what it means. Not just the words, but the fact that you meant them. That you said them so easily, like it wasn’t something huge you placed in his lap.

It was.

You can tell by the way he keeps holding your hand, squeezing every now and then, like letting go would break up the moment too fast.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits after a while.

You let out a small breath through your nose. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“I feel like I should.”

“You don’t have to.”

His mouth twitches a little at that, but it fades just as quickly.

“I just…” He looks away for a second, out at the valley below, at the fading light and shadows. “I’ve spent so much time thinking about what I lost that I never really thought about what could still happen. What I could still have.”

Your thumb brushes lightly over his knuckles before you can think better of it. Aang notices. His shoulders loosen again, but not enough.

“You make it sound simple,” he says.

“It’s not simple.”

This turns his attention back on you.

“It’s just not impossible either,” you say quietly. “There’s a difference.”

He studies your face for a second, and you can almost see the thoughts moving behind his eyes. Aang was never very good at hiding what he felt, but this is different. He's less open. More careful. Like he’s afraid of letting this conversation go in the wrong direction. Of making you angry.

“You'd really give me children?” he asks again.

Not because he didn’t hear you the first time. Because he needs to.

You nod once. “Yeah.”

“And learn all of it?”

“Yes.”

“The stories, the customs, the food, the prayers, the weird games—”

You smile a little. “You’re really trying to sell it now.”

That earns a breath of a laugh. Then he goes quiet again.

“Even if you can’t bend?”

There it is. You had a feeling it would come back to that.

You look down at your lap for a second before answering.

“Especially then.”

Aang frowns. You take a breath.

“I can’t give back from the lack of bending,” you say. “I know that. I know I’ll never be part of your culture in the same way you were born into it.” You pause, picking at a blade of grass near your knee. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t love it because it matters to you. It doesn’t mean I can’t help keep it alive. This could be one of the only things I can give back.”

His face changes at that. Softens. Something about those words gets through to him in a way the other words of the gang couldn't. Maybe it's because he knows you’re not saying it to make him feel better.

You’re saying it because you’ve already decided.

“I don’t want you to think this is all you’re good for,” he says after a moment.

You look at him, caught a little off guard.

“What?”

He turns toward you more fully now, his hand tightening around yours.

“The only thing you could really give back?” he repeats softly, using your own words. “Don’t say it like that.”

Heat crawls up your neck in half embarrassment, and half of something else.

“I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.” His voice stays gentle, but there’s something firmer in it now. “But you make it sound like you have to make up for something.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Because there isn’t a clean lie waiting to spill past your lips. Aang notices that too.

“You don’t owe me a legacy,” he says. “And you don’t owe me children just because you can’t bend.”

Your throat tightens a little.

“I know,” you say, but it comes out softer than you intended.

He watches you for another second, then shifts closer, close enough that your heads are leaning against each other.

“You don’t have to try and even the score for what you think you're lacking in,” he says. “Not for me.”

His words land hard. Too hard.

Because some part of you had thought exactly that, even if you didn’t want to say it out loud. That if you could never stand beside the others in the way they did, through bending, through power, through something useful, then maybe you could still give him something that mattered.

Something lasting.

You stare down at your lap for a second, blinking against the sting behind your eyes.

“I didn’t mean for it to sound like that,” you say quietly. “I’m not trying to make up with children for my lack of bending with you.”

“I know.” He says it immediately. Reassurance following his understanding. “I know you’re not.”

It helps. His words. A little.

You breathe out slowly.

“I just hate that I can’t help out sometimes,” you admit. "Heck, even Sokka is out there being a hero... But what can I do?"

Aang goes still. Because he finally understands what’s underneath all of the hurt you've bottled up inside of yourself.

The discouragement after every attempt. The way you'd look away from everyone's eyes after every attempt. The way you'd say it’s fine, when it clearly wasn't.

He shifts again, this time dipping his head enough that he can see your face better.

“What can you do?” he repeats quietly. And it's just him, sitting with the question instead of brushing it off.

You don’t answer right away because you’ve already answered it a hundred times in your head. Nothing, was always your response. He frowns as though the crease in your forehead gave you away.

“You think being a hero is just about bending?” he asks.

You give a small shrug. “It helps.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You glance at him, a little caught. He doesn’t look away.

“You think Sokka is a hero, but he can't bend?” Aang presses.

You hesitate. “Yes, but—”

“But what?”

You sigh, frustrated now. “But he still does things, Aang. He fights. He plans. He actually contributes when something goes wrong.” You shake your head a little. “When things get bad, I’m just… there.”

The words come out flatter than you meant them to. Like you’ve said them before. To yourself. Too many times.

Aang’s expression tightens.

“You’re not ‘just there,’” he says.

You don’t argue. You don’t agree either. You just look away again.

“Do you remember the canyon?” he asks suddenly.

You frown slightly. “What about it?”

“You were the one who figured out how to settle the feud between the Gan Jin and the Zhang tribes,” he says. “You made them work together to get us out of being eaten by those canyon crawlers.”

“Wasn't that you—”

“And the village near the volcano?” he continues. “You were the one who convinced the villagers that they needed to evacuate.”

You shake your head. “That’s not—”

“And when Appa got hurt,” he adds, quieter now, “you stayed with him the whole night. You looked over him, you lost sleep over it too.”

You go still because you do remember that memory.

You remember thinking it didn’t count. That it wasn’t enough.

“That’s not fighting, though,” you say, softer now.

“No,” Aang agrees. “It’s not.”

He leans in just slightly, not crowding you, just enough that you can’t ignore him.

“But it’s helping.”

You swallow.

“It’s paying attention,” he continues. “It’s seeing things the rest of us miss because we’re too busy trying to win something.”

His voice softens. “And it matters.”

You look at him again because he’s not trying to make you feel better.

He’s not reaching just to say something nice. He means it.

“But when something actually happens—” you start.

“You’re there,” he says, cutting in gently this time. “You don’t run. You don’t hide. You stay.”

Your chest tightens.

“That’s not nothing.”

The wind shifts around you again. You look down at your interlocked hands.

“It doesn’t feel like enough sometimes,” you admit.

Aang nods. “I know.”

That catches you off guard.

“I get that, trust me,” he adds. “I’ve felt that too.”

You blink at him. “You?”

“Yeah.” A small, almost self-conscious smile tugs at his mouth. “Being the Avatar doesn’t automatically make you feel invincible.”

You let out a quiet breath. That… comforts you more than you expected it to.

Aang studies your face for another second, then reaches out again. This time, slower, more deliberate, as he nudges your right cheek with his left hand, before pressing a gentle kiss on it. You don’t pull away.

“I'm sorry if we made you feel that way. You don’t have to be like the rest of us to matter,” he says.

You let that sit. It doesn’t fix everything. But it settles the war that was waged inside you anyway.

“You really believe that?” you ask.

He nods.

“I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if I didn’t.”

That makes you look at him again. A small, uneven smile pulls at your lips.

“You’re really bad at letting people wallow in their self-pity,” you mutter.

He smiles back, softer now. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve been told that.”

You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head.

"Why do you keep talking like bending is the only part worth carrying on?”

That shuts you up again.

He’s not angry. If anything, he sounds a little sad. A little frustrated that you still can’t see what he’s trying to tell you.

“My people weren’t just airbenders,” he says. “They were monks, teachers, healers. They made toys for kids and baked fruit pies and played games and told stories they’d told a hundred times before.” A small smile pulls at his mouth. “They were annoying sometimes. And stubborn. And really nosy.”

A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it. Aang smiles a little wider when he hears it.

“My culture didn’t live in bending alone,” he says. “It lived in how we treated people. What we believed. How we lived.”

He looks down at your joined hands. “And you’ve been trying to understand that part of me since the day we met.”

Your heart settles.

“So no,” he says softly. “You wouldn’t be giving me the only thing you could offer.”

You swallow.

“Aang…”

“You’d just be giving me more of you.”

His words are so simple they almost hurt. You don’t know what to do with them. So for a second, you do nothing. Then your hand tightens around his. His eyes flick down to it, then back to your face.

You shake your head a little, a laugh leaving you, thin and shaky. “You always know how to make me feel stupid in the nicest way possible.”

That finally gets a real laugh out of him.

“You’re not stupid.”

“Mm.”

“You’re not.” He presses firmly, gently.

You look over at him. “I heard you the first time.”

“Good.”

The breeze picks up around the two of you, cooler now that the sun has dropped. It lifts a few strands of your hair and brushes the fabric on his sleeves.

Aang leans back on one hand, still facing you.

“I think I’d like that,” he says after a while.

You blink. “What part?”

He smiles, small and careful. A beat. “All of it.”

Something in you eases. Not all the way, but enough to let you breathe easier.

“Even if I can't bend?”

He tilts his head, brows furrowing in feigned shock. “You can't bend!”

You let out an offended noise and shove at his shoulder.

He laughs, catching your wrist before you can do it again.

“I’m kidding,” he says.

“You’re not.”

“Okay, maybe a little.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling a lot brighter now, and he is too, and the heaviness from a minute ago doesn’t feel quite so sharp in your chest.

He keeps hold of your wrist for a second longer than he needs to. Long enough for the mood to shift again. Just slightly.

His smile fades first, not into sadness, but something more aware. Serious. You felt it too. The tension.

The way he raised his hand and his thumb brushed once, almost absentmindedly, over the side of your face.

“Aang,” you say softly.

His eyes avert from your lips, falling on your softening gaze.

You lost your train of thought, the words you wanted to say falling off the tip of your tongue. Maybe it was nothing. His name just felt easier than everything else sitting between you.

His eyes search your face anyway.

“Yeah?”

You shake your head, but not because you want to take it back.

“Nothing.”

His mouth curves faintly. “You sure?”

“No.”

He studies you for another moment, then glances out at the valley again.

“You want to stay here tonight,” he says. “If you want, of course.”

You lift a brow. “You mean avoid going back and getting interrogated by Katara?”

“That too.”

You smile. “Tempting.”

“Very. It’s quiet here.”

You look around. The grass. The temple in the far distance, worn down but still standing strong, like Aang.

“It is.”

Aang nods, then looks back at you. Letting the quiet air take over as he took in his favorite view. You. Who went back to pulling at the patch of grass you disrupted, he can't help but let his smile grow.

“I love you.”

There it is again. His plain honesty. It always got the best of you. You feel your face heat up, but there’s no point in pretending you didn't hear him.

“I love you too,” you say, expression timid, but still facing the ground.

His heart beats faster. This was it for him. You were it. All he'd ever want, so long as the universe allowed you and him to last. To be.

His shoulders drop. His mouth softens. He looks younger for a second, and older too. Like the boy and the man he’s still becoming are both sitting right here beside you. Making your head spin and your heart full.

The wind curls between you again. Gentle. Familiar.

And this time, when the silence returns, it doesn’t feel empty.

It feels full.

Aang glances at your joined hands once more, then back at you, his expression almost shy despite everything you’ve just said.

"So you really want children with me?"

"Yes, Aang." Your grin grows as you stifle a laugh.

“Do you want to start...on our legacy?” he asks.

You smile.

“Right now?” you ask.

Aang freezes. “Right now?”

You shrug, biting back another laugh. “You’re the one who asked.”

His brain immediately starts short-circuiting.

“Okay, wait, hold on—” he lets go of your hand just to gesture wildly, before stopping again. “I didn’t mean like right now, right now, I meant like, someday right now. Future right now. Not, this exact moment on a hill—”

You’re fully laughing now.

“Aang—”

“No, because there’s—there’s steps!” he insists, pointing at the ground like the steps might appear if he believes hard enough. “There are definitely steps. We skipped all of them.”

“You asked!”

“I didn’t think you’d say yes that fast!”

You tilt your head. “You wanted me to say no?”

“No!” he says immediately. “No, definitely not that either, just, maybe a warning? A little preparation time?”

You grin. “You’re panicking.”

“I am not panicking,” he says, voice an octave higher than usual. “I am calmly evaluating a very big, important, life thing—”

He stops. Looks at you. You’re still smiling at him like this is the best thing that’s ever happened.

“You’re serious, though,” he says, quieter now.

You nod. “Yeah.”

That does it. He exhales, shoulders dropping, all that frantic energy softening just a little.

“Okay.”

A beat.

“Okay,” he repeats, like he’s trying to convince himself he’s got this.

Then.

“Not right now, though,” he adds quickly.

You laugh. “Not right now.”

“Good,” he says, relieved. “Because I think I’d pass out.”

“You’d pass out?”

“Immediately.”

You bump his shoulder. “Avatar, master of all four elements… defeated by the talk of children.”

He points at you. “You’re the one who started it!”

“You asked!”

“And I regret nothing,” he says quickly, then pauses.

You laugh again, leaning your head against him. He relaxes this time, letting your head rest against his shoulder, still a little flustered but smiling anyway.

“We can start with the easy stuff,” he mutters.

“Like what?”

“Like… teaching you those games I used to play here,” he says. “Much safer.”

You hum. “Yeah, probably a good place to start.”

“Definitely a good place to start,” he agrees.

A beat.

“Still saying yes, though.”

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

Vol. 4: special edition bonus comic

Taboo/Habanera scanlation

Vol. 6 (Japanese edition released March 2021, English edition released January 2022)

Chapter 29, part 1

Chapter 29, part 2

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Special edition overview

Vol. 7 (Japanese edition released January 2023, English edition released September 2023)

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37, part 1

Chapter 37, part 2

Chapter 38, part 1

Chapter 38, part 2

Chapter 39, part 1

Chapter 39, part 2

Chapter 39, part 3

Chapter 39, part 4

Chapter 39, part 5

Special edition overview

Vol. 8 (Japanese edition released May 2025, English edition releasing March 2026)

Chapter 39, part 6

Chapter 40, part 1

Chapter 40, part 2

Chapter 40, part 3

Chapter 41, part 1

Chapter 41, part 2

Chapter 42, part 1

Chapter 42, part 2

Chapter 43, part 1

Chapter 43, part 2

Special edition overview

Vol. 9

Chapter 44, part 1

Chapter 44, part 2

pornstar!satoru who, when he finds the more homemade stuff, he’s pathetically jealous of the man that frequents your bed so often. how big his hands look as they lay lovingly over your skin, how in love you look as you suck his cock, how well his tip hits your g-spot over and over and—of course he fucking knows him. a video of you on your back piques his attention, your man in between your legs and lapping at your needy pussy like he’s starved. satoru knows that long hair, that cheeky sexdrunk smile that pulls at his lips while he eats you out, he knows those purple fucking eyes that turn to glance at the camera.

of course it’s pornstar!suguru.

pornstar!satoru who suddenly has his cock out, languid strokes of his fist over his length is nothing to the memories of pornstar!suguru's lips wrapped around his length. who is so enthralled by the knowledge that both him and his former co-star have gotten to feel the flutter of your pussy around their cocks.

pornstar!satoru whos fingers are frantic as he searches for more of you together, and ends up spending way too much money on subscriptions just to watch you get fucked stupid on the same cock that he once did for a film a few years back. who wonders if you feel the same stretch with suguru as you did with him. if you were forced to choose, relationships be damned, who you'd say made you cum harder.

pornstar!satoru whos dick gets impossibly harder at the thought of you not choosing at all. who lets himself picture it, you spread out for both him and pornstar!suguru, your eyes wide at the prospect of taking both of them at once. how he'd take your mouth first, how with each thrust of suguru into your pussy would push you forward onto his cock. how he'd kiss your boyfriend breathless while they're both balls-deep inside of you.

pornstar!satoru who strokes himself along to a video of you riding pornstar!suguru. who times his orgasm just right with your shared one, who goes fucking blind for a moment with the way his climax washes over him. your noises, suguru's noises, the imagined smell of sweat in the air. he moans, a dirty mixture of your name and his, something embarrassing and still he remains steadfast in his lust.

pornstar!satoru who, because he respects himself at least a little, gives himself fifteen minutes for post nut clarity to set in. and when it doesn't, he's texting his agent in the dead of night and very firmly requesting to be booked again

with both of you.

pornstar!suguru who, upon having you home from a particularly tiring shoot, is doting on you with heart-shaped pupils. He's got you laying down with him on the couch, big hands working magic on your sore muscles.

pornstar!suguru who doesn't always ask for details about your shoots. he knows it's just work, hell, he's a pornstar himself, he doesn't need the raunchy details of your jobs to keep himself from spiralling. but something about today feels different. today, you seem uncharacteristically fucked out.

pornstar!suguru who is more than surprised when you're still rearing to get fucked silly that night. you groan about your shoot with a new pornstar, and how his touch is still lingering on your mind. and suguru laughs, because jealousy doesn't come easy to him-- if anything, knowing you're still in his bed at the end of the day just gets him even more worked up.

its when pornstar!suguru bottoms out inside of you, that shared gasp of ecstasy leaving both your lips that you mention how he asked you out for drinks after the shoot. you add on, of course, that you turned him down, but the comment still has your boyfriends interest piqued.

pornstar!suguru who, with a kiss to the corner of your lips and a gentle thrust into you, asks who this admirer of yours is. and just as the names about to leave your lips, his phone chimes on the bed with an email.

an offer. a threesome shoot: him, you, and a second male. it's the best paying shoot he's gotten in a long time. he hasnt quite scrolled down to see who the other talent was, so when you snatch his phone, legs still wrapped around his waist, he catches that smile on your lips. he catches the way you clench around him.

"that's him," you speak, such pretty words from your lips as you turn the screen to show him the name and headshot of pornstar!satoru.

and pornstar!suguru's dick gets impossibly harder.

tags: @meowforluv @p1xlesk1nn @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra