Peace.

-

all you could feel was the harsh pulse of your own heartbeat coming from your neck. you wish the beating came from your carotid, but it came from the hand shaped burn that now covered the right side of your neck and the connecting point to your shoulder. the green crystals of the catacombs shine above you, but you can’t focus on them well enough to admire them. aang had just been thrown back by azula when she had shifted her gaze to you and katara. you had been fighting against her using your earth bending, but your senses were nowhere near as sensitive as toph’s. you couldn’t even feel when zuko came up behind you, gripping your shoulder to pull you back. he used that same hand to let out a burst of fire that seemed to shock even himself; you went crashing into one of the stone walls of the cave, then fell to the ground. 

your neck was raw. the skin covering it now charred and flaked, exposing the slick under layer of cells and blood. you’re able to peel your eyes open to see zuko. he is standing, watching. azula yells something towards him that you can't make out, it takes him a second to start running toward her, back to the fight with aang. you can faintly see katara fall after one of azula’s attacks. the last you remember was the entrance of the dai li surrounding katara as she tries to get back up. 

waking up on a fire nation ship was… terrifying to say the least. not to mention the thick layer of bandages that covered your neck and shoulder. you felt like you could barely move your head. sokka was the first person you saw when you woke after three days in a coma. “thank goodness, you’re alive.” he said, you tried to push yourself up on the cot you were laying on, but you were still weak. sokka helped push you up from your back as to not disturb the bandages. “katara tried to heal you, but she had to use the spirit water on aang.” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “is everyone okay?” you managed to ask, your voice raspy. “aang… hasn’t woken up yet.”

it took three more weeks for him to wake up, even longer for the plan on the day of the black sun to come together. the time in the fire nation passed too fast for your liking, and the feeling that the end was soon caused your anxiety to heighten as you stayed at the western air temple. the fight in the crystal catacomb gave you a sense of your own weakness, mortality. 

zuko’s arrival after being beaten by the fire nation only heightened those feelings. you hadn’t managed to bend properly with him still around, his presence only made your burn throb more. it was still firmly wrapped in cloth bandages, barely scarring over in the past month. when aang had asked you and toph your opinions on letting him stay with the group after he defeated the assassin tracking you, you only gave a nod after toph said she’d get back at him. even with apologies from him to both you and toph, you couldn’t help the feeling of fear that consumed you when he was firebending with aang. 

it’s only when zuko and aang returned from the firebending masters did your tension start to lessen. it had taken you a while to get back to feeling comfortable around fire, but something you couldn’t handle was the freezing nights at the western air temple, sucking up your fear was a necessity. something you didn’t expect to be comforted by, though, was the warmth of the tea that zuko had brewed every night. he’d sometimes tell stories of his uncle, or poorly thought out jokes. it helped. it made the fire feel more human. it made the skin on your neck and shoulder cool down. helping sokka bring back suki his father, then avenging katara’s mother with her made it difficult to ignore his changing. 

a few days before the arrival of sozin’s comet, you had spoken to him maybe a handful of times. it was a warm night at the fire lord’s beach house when he sat next to you at the shoreline. your scar didn’t throb. the rest of the team was sleeping inside, in a food coma as a result of watermelon juice and barbecued veggies. even with the heat of the island, you had your bandages on. 

“is your neck… healing well?” he asked without looking toward you. “uh, yeah. it just needs a few more weeks. i’m trying to keep it clean.” you responded. it was a complete lie. in full honesty, katara said you could stop wearing the bandage about a week prior. you wanted to keep the scar to yourself for now. the area was pulled taut as the fresh layer of new skin covered what once was a mass of char. you felt yourself sweat through the bandage a bit. he turns to look at you, his hand balled into a fist in the sand, “i can’t tell you how sorry i am.” his eyes shift to the bandage. 

he was never the best at apologies, but you could tell he was trying. you were never the best at comfort, but you could also try. “you were doing what you thought was right. we all make mistakes.” “doing that to someone is never right. i regretted it as soon as i touched you.” he leans his body away from you. “well, you just gotta make sure you don't do it again, i’ll beat your ass now that my bending’s gotten better.” that actually got a chuckle out of him. “if that ever happens, i hope you do.”

he spoke of how his father was planning on burning down the earth kingdom, your home, a day later. although you were separated from your family at a young age, the people in the earth kingdom and the fighters that trained you were the closest people you had in your life. training amped up tenfold. aang disappeared, you all found zuko’s uncle, the comet changed the sky into a deep orange, you were split up from the group and caught in a fight against azula with katara and zuko, and then, suddenly.

aang won. 

the fire lord could no longer bend. aang put out the fires at the edge of the earth kingdom and you reunited with the rest of the team. you stayed with toph at zuko’s coronation and to the celebration afterwards. the fire nation regalia laid thinly on your body, made for the heat. it was a high enough neck to cover what you wanted to be covered. everyone was in the traditional deep red for the celebration. 

“so, do we have to call you ‘my lord’ now?” sokka asked, leaning on zuko’s shoulder. “please, never call me that.” zuko seemed to cringe. “then what is your first plan of action, firelord zuko?” you asked, making toph cackle. zuko would have to get used to it at some point. “i’ve already set up meetings with the other nations to start rebuilding our relationships with them. i’m just hoping they’ll believe in me.” “they will,” aang says. 

-

ten years later proves that they did believe in him. the fire nation has majorly supported the other nations in their efforts to rebuild after the hundred years war. zuko has worked with royals as well as local communities to establish what is needed for their homelands as well as what is necessary for the construction of republic city. aang and katara have worked on peace treaties between all nations in connection with the new firelord. toph has set up a strong law enforcement team to protect against those that still may believe in what ozai once tried to enforce. sokka has become the new chieftain of the southern water tribe. 

you, over the past ten years, have made an effort to find your family. and you did. only katara knew of this venture, and that you located your grandmother using old earth kingdom records tied to your last name. you found an orphan with the same birthdate as you and tied it back to two deceased parents. you almost gave up until you found one last grandparent–your mothers mother. she lived in the mountains in solitude, away from any main city, but she said she would recognize you anywhere. 

you were shocked to receive the invitation to this fire nation event celebrating the ten year anniversary of the end of the war. first, you didn’t know if any of the original team knew your location. spending ten years trying to find your one last living relative did not give you a lot of free time to stay in contact with anyone, which you regretted deeply. second, you didn’t expect fire nation soldiers to knock on the door of your grandmother's small cabin in the early morning, nearly scaring the spirit out of her. 

one of the soldiers said your name as you opened the door, ready to use your bending to send them all the way back to the fire nation, but you pause at his next words, “we are delivering a letter from firelord zuko, we apologize for the early interruption, he asked for us to get this to you as soon as possible.” the soldier put the letter in your hands and gave you a stiff bow. both of them left swiftly, leaving you and your grandmother shocked. 

“the firelord, huh?” your grandmother looked at you with a naughty look in her eye. “spirits, please stop.” “haven’t you seen him lately, dear? handsome boy.” she said, smirking. “how have you even seen him? we don’t get any mail up here.” “you think i spend all of my time out in that garden? the city is a beautiful place to explore, even if i would despise living in it.” you decide to ignore the information that was just thrown at you to open the letter in your hands. there is a large chunk of cursive on the page written in red ink. it addresses you by name first, some of it is a little messy, but it looks like it took some time to write.

“i hope that the delivery of this letter did not startle you. you certainly did not make it easy to find your whereabouts over the years, but i felt it was important to share this event with you. katara was gracious enough to talk about your mission to find your loved ones after the end of my fathers rule. i admire you deeply for dedicating yourself to this for ten long years.

i am writing to invite you to the decennial celebration of the end of the war at the fire nation palace. i understand completely if you would rather spend time with your grandmother (this invite is extended to your grandmother as well), but i hope you do consider being in attendance. everyone from our original group will be in attendance and it would feel like something would be missing without you. 

please do not feel as if you are being forced to come. i understand that the whole ‘firelord’ title can make official invitations intimidating, but i would appreciate writing with you like this just as i would seeing you in person. 

i hope to see you there, 

zuko” 

“a special invite from the firelord himself.” your grandmother reads the letter over your shoulder, “and he only signed it as zuko! no ‘firelord,’ no ‘lord,’ oh, you have to go!” she claps. for an old woman, her energy is out of this world. “i don’t even know how i would get down there on time, i don’t even have anything to wear.” you said, putting the letter down. “we have enough money saved to call a carriage, and i’m an old woman who has lived by herself for twenty years, you think i can’t sew? i have many traditional dresses in my closet, i can tailor it any way you’d like, you would just have to choose one.” she opens her closet door to show her collection of traditional earth kingdom gowns. their vintage designs and traditional fabrics almost seemed to shimmer in the early morning sun. you just smiled and nodded toward her, she jumped with excitement. 

-

now, standing at the foot of the fire nation palace, it is almost like all of your original confidence has washed away from your body. the carriage dropped you off just minutes ago, and yet you still haven't moved an inch. 

your dress was perfectly tailored, a silk green and gold gown. it is low cut, and you have finally stopped wearing bandages around your neck and shoulders. the scar was a mix of reds and browns, but had healed with only a slight difference in texture to your unharmed skin, you still wore a shawl to fight against the cool evening breeze outside. your grandmother even put some light makeup on your face and gave you her precious gold jewelry to wear for the night. in the carriage, you felt beautiful. as you stare up at the palace, knowing that everyone from your past is in that building, it all feels too much. 

ten years was too long of a time to not see any of your friends, though. instead of remaining stuck in fear, you made your way up the staircase into the bustling palace. music surrounded you along with warm firelights lining the walls. the main foyer was crowded with aristocrats and citizens alike. the first person you make eye contact with is aang. 

his eyes widen as he says your name, the woman in front of him turns around to look at you too, katara. you smile at them as they rush toward you. “it’s really you, oh my god.” katara says, pulling you into a hug, aang comes in for one next. “i’m so sorry about being in the mountains for so long. i’ve been catching up on lost time with my grandmother.” you take in both of their appearances in shock. aang has somehow grown taller than both you and katara, and katara has grown into a gorgeous woman. you notice something different about her, particularly her necklace. instead of her mothers, there sits a blue crystal with a combination of air and water nation symbols. 

“is that what i think it is?” you ask, looking deeper at the necklace. aang’s face bursts with red at the recognition. “we thought nobody would notice!” katara says, “notice what?” another person cuts across the foyer, you instantly recognize the voice as sokka, toph is beside him as he comes up. she is already smirking, probably from overhearing the conversation. katara’s eyes widen, aang splutters for a second before yelling out your name, “she thought nobody would notice her, can you believe it?” sokka instantly looks shocked as he looks at you and then pulls you into a hug. “holy shit, we didn’t think you’d come!” he pulls back but still has his hands on your shoulders. “neither did i, to be honest.” you said back. “you finally came in! i heard you thank your carriage driver outside like twenty minutes ago.” toph hits your shoulder. “your senses can’t be that good.” katara furrows her eyebrows at toph, “it’s been ten years, my senses are only getting better and better.” 

conversation flows like it did ten years ago, like it did before the war. you realize how much you missed all of your friends. you loved your grandmother, but this little found family of yours was still by your side, even after a decade. 

the sounds of drums interrupt your conversation as guards come up to the top of the grand staircase. the drums stop as the main guard begins to speak. “please join us in welcoming firelord zuko.” the guard says. the foyer erupts into applause as zuko stands atop the staircase and gives a bow. 

he looks so different, his hair is long, near his waist at this point. he has grown much taller over the years, and he looks older. the weight of war cleanup and firelord duties has taken a toll on him. his eyes are slightly sunken in, but despite this, he looks happy. he looks good. 

he gives a greeting toward the crowd and invites everyone to keep celebrating before descending the staircase. aang rushes to greet him first, still pulling him into a bear hug despite both of them being far too large for it not to hurt anymore. sokka and toph make jokes about the introduction while katara laughs. despite the chaos, he looks at you. 

the shock on his face was astounding. he looks both happy and stunned at the same time, but he smiles at you nonetheless. “oh, yeah, we brought a surprise for you, dude.” sokka says, gesturing to you over his shoulder. you are pulled into another hug, this time from the firelord, who approached you at a shocking speed. despite his put-together facade, he really seems to act just like aang in terms of excitement. he pulls away from you, “i am so happy you came, did you bring your grandmother?” you laugh a bit but shake your head, “i tried getting her to come, she said parties aren't her thing.” 

even after ten years, they were all still here. you couldn’t believe you hadn’t followed up with anyone for that amount of time, you couldn’t believe how fast time had even passed after the end of the war. the night nearly flew by, and suddenly the room was getting stuffy with the amount of bodies that filled up the palace. you stepped out into the garden for some cool air, slipping the shawl off your shoulders and sitting on a small bench by the fountain. 

you heard him before you saw him, the thick fabric of the firelord robes made it hard to hide from anybody as it rubbed against itself. “what are you doing out here?” zuko asks from behind you, coming to sit next to you. “got a bit too hot. i havent properly partied in a decade, y’know?” you smiled back at him. “that is a fire nation issue, we tend to run hot.” he looks at you properly. 

he takes you in little by little, maybe you notice, maybe you don’t. from your hair, to the slope of your nose, to your lips, to your chin. 

to your neck. 

all fire lord zuko could focus his gaze on was your neck. the last time he had seen the dull red mark, it was covered in bandages. in the dark of the night it appeared more purpley. it was very faintly shaped like a jagged oval. like his hand. the previous smile that was on his face has disappeared as he looks away from you. you notice it. 

“why, um, why did you end up coming?” he asks, looking down at his hands that are now clasped together. he still isn't looking at you. “just wanted to see people that i cared for again.” he nods, “i think they really appreciate that. i mean, katara and aang haven’t stopped talking about you over the years. toph missed you so much-” “that includes you, zuko.” he closes his mouth and his eyes still shift on the grass covering the garden ground. 

“you don’t have to say that, you know? i know i’m the firelord but i’m not going to, like, force you to be friends with me. especially not after what i did.” he can’t look at your face, so he settles by looking at your hands that were resting on your thighs. 

“can i tell you something?” you ask, “anything,” he responds, so fast it almost shocks both of you. “for the longest time after… that fight, i was scared of fire. it didn’t matter how cold it was or how numb my fingers were, i was just too nervous to be around it. i was terrified.” he looks away from you again, but you continue. “i had made this connection in my head that you and fire were one, one being made to try and hurt my friends.” he nodded, you could barely even hear him breathe. “when you came to the western air temple saying you wanted to help aang with his fire bending, i felt myself really start panicking.” you had to remind yourself to breathe while talking to him.

“but then you started making us warm tea and staying up to kindle the fire, and even trying to keep appa warm even though he is covered in fur. i felt myself getting more and more comfortable with the presence of fire. maybe even sheltered by it.” that made zuko let out a breath. “i realized the connection i made between you, fire, and danger was unfair. we are just products of our environments, and during that fight, reacting with fire is what you were taught. somehow, during everything, you also taught me that fire isn’t always dangerous and uncontrolled, it’s also warmth and protection.” you finished. 

“you are being too nice for this situation right now.” zuko says looking back at you, from your eyes, to your neck, and back again. you sigh and look away this time, “i know that this is your first time seeing it, firelord, but it has been a part of me for ten years. i have taken all the time i have needed to heal and grow from the war and this is just a mark of the past. it means nothing about your future or our future.” 

“what i have heard from everyone is that you are a good firelord, a kind firelord, and i have a feeling that is a fact. you have grown into a great man and probably the best firelord your nation has known. your past doesn’t define you, zuko, especially when you have made such a change for the world.” 

judging by the sheen covering his eyes, you got through to him. he looks away to wipe his face with his robes, but turns to look at you in the eyes. he smiles, “will i have to ask you to stop calling me ‘firelord’ for the rest of my life?” you laugh, “oh, definitely.” “thank you for coming tonight. i’ll be honest, i couldn’t sleep with how anxious i was at the thought of seeing you again.” he said, there was a tint of pink coming up his neck to the bottom of his cheeks. 

one thing you weren't, after all these years, was a coward. “hm, do i make the firelord nervous?” his skin heated up. you couldn’t tell if it was from a blush or if it was a result of his bending. you leaned closer to him, “thank you for inviting me and, y’know, finding me.” he splutters a bit, “oh! it was nothing, yeah, no problem. easy, easy work. yeah.” you brought your lips to his cheek, giving him a soft peck that made him freeze. your lips felt warm from the heat of his skin as you pulled away. 

he was still looking at you, eyes widened, as he touched his cheek. he looks down at his hand before it makes its way to cup the side of your face, “can i?” he asks, you just nod. he pulls you into a kiss, soft and deep. his hand is warm as it shifts its way to the back of your head, pulling you closer. his other hand grips your waist. you hold onto the front of his robes as he separates your lips with his tongue, making you gasp. 

“zuko! did you find her- oh!” you hear sokka’s voice as a door slides open. you and zuko separate quickly, not looking at each other or sokka, standing in the doorway. “ten years and you couldn’t wait one more night? damn. well, i’ll leave ya to it.” sokka’s eyes light up mischievously as he shuts the door and enters back into the palace. 

“he is going to tell everyone in there.” you said finally looking back at zuko. he was already staring at you. he puts a hand on the back of your neck to pull you in again, this time kissing up the area of your scar. he brings his lips up your jaw to your cheek, and finally to your lips. 

“let him.”

-

The palace was unbearably loud that night.

Not in the way it usually was, not the dull murmur of advisors or the careful politeness of court. This was laughter, music, glasses clinking just a little too sharply. A celebration. One of many. Zuko had long since learned how to endure them, once accepting the fact that he could scarcely avoid them.

Stand straight. Nod at the right moments. Pretend to listen. Repeat.

Following the same script as always, Zuko expected it to be just another night that he had to spend with the crowds whereas he would rather be alone in his chambers, undisturbed, enjoying some peace and quiet.

Until he saw you.

It wasn’t anything obvious. You weren’t the loudest in the room, nor the most extravagant. If anything, you blended in far too well among the nobles and diplomats scattered across the hall. Your robes carried a shade of red that was not really hard to come across, your headpin in the shape of a lotus flower.

And yet—

His gaze found you before he even realised it had shifted.

You were speaking to someone he didn’t immediately recognise, your head tilted slightly as you listened, a faint smile playing on your lips. As if the person you were speaking to had said something utterly funny, you let out a laugh, hand grabbing his upper arm ever so gently.

Nothing unusual. Nothing worth a second glance. Just a regular exchange between guests.

And still, he looked.

A second too long.

A third.

By the time he forced his attention back to the conversation in front of him, he had already lost track of what had been said. The sole focus of his mind was to find out who the mystery girl was, to put a name to the face already haunting his thoughts.

“My Lord?”

Zuko blinked a few times.

The nobleman across from him was waiting - for an answer? For him to approve? Or was he supposed to ask for drink? I deeply hope that wasn’t a question.

“Yes?” he said shortly, his voice controlled. Satisfied that he had the Fire Lord’s attention again, the nobleman continued to talk. Though Zuko’s focus didn’t return. Not fully. Not when, a moment later, he found himself searching the room again.

A frown appeared on Zuko’s face. You were no longer where you had been. So what, I never see most of these people again anyway - why does this matter now?

“Excuse my interruption, gentlemen, but I have to steal the Fire Lord for a few minutes.”

Zuko’s head snapped upon hearing Sokka’s voice. Before he could mutter his apologies, he was dragged away from the crowd. This is the wrong direction, Sokka, I need to go back into the crowd to find her! He looked over his shoulder in an attempt to search for you in the crowd.

“You looked like you could use some saving, buddy.” Sokka kept his voice low as he spoke, they were headed to the balcony. “Those walking history scrolls bore you to death, eh?” A frown formed on Sokka’s face as he realised Zuko wasn’t really listening to him - he wasn’t even following him to the balcony. “What is with you tonight?”

Where is she?

“Sokka, you need to help me,” Zuko spoke, completely oblivious to Sokka’s words. “I need to find someone.”

“Someone?” Sokka asked with a smirk. A servant walked by, offering them drinks. Sokka took one. “Are you looking for your secret lover?” He put emphasis on the last word.

Zuko shook his head. “She is not— what? I don’t have a secret lover - who is coming up with these?”

The moment his amber eyes rested on the lotus flower, he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. You had a drink in your hand, searching for something - or rather someone - in the crowd when your eyes landed on his.

It was maybe less than a second before you turned your head, walking towards the buffet, but it had been enough to send a chill down his spine.

“Ah, her you were looking for?” Sokka’s voice pulled Zuko back to the present moment. The Fire Lord shook himself briefly. “The lotus flower.”

Zuko sent a quick look at Sokka. “It sounds like you know her, Sokka.” His eyes returned to you, afraid to lose you in the crowd once again. You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear as you waved at another person.

Sokka took a sip from his drink as he shook his head. “I have heard of her, yes, but I haven’t had the chance to meet her. Yet.” He let out a laugh upon seeing the look Zuko was giving him. “We really need to work on you and sarcasm, man. All those years around me and you still fall for it.”

The Fire Lord rolled his eyes.

“Care to tell me what you heard about the lotus flower, then? Or was that sarcasm as well?”

“I heard someone else asking about the Lotus Girl earlier today. Apparently, she shows up with someone sometimes.” He stopped for a moment to stroke his chin. “Or maybe it’s different people? Honestly, nobody seems to know. It’s weird.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened. “What do you mean no one knows?” Upon realising that he was literally steaming, he took a deep breath. His eyes were still following you, giving his best not to lose you in the crowd once more.

“You need to chill a little bit, Mr. Fire Lord-who-gets-jealous-of-a-woman-he-doesn’t-even-know-yet!” Sokka muttered as he drank the rest of his drink. “Why are you so eager to find this girl anyway?”

“I… I don’t know. I just need to.” Zuko breathed out the words. And that, more than anything, irritated him.

He wasn’t used to not having a reason.

“Anyway… How do you know about all this?”

Sokka laid his hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “Believe it or not, mate, people just cannot resist this face. They tell me everything.” He shrugged. “Maybe I am not a simple womaniser.”

Zuko didn’t respond. You were moving deeper into the crowd, if he were to look away for a second, he feared he would lose your sight. You were leaning a pillar, casually, as you nodded at the man standing by, the light inside the room reflecting from your eyes. Your lips were curled into an attractive smile.

Always with someone.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

After a while, Sokka managed to drag Zuko outside, to the balcony, before his staring could get more awkward (and before he could combust from seeing you around different men).

“I feel like the Fire Lord’s babysitter!” Sokka muttered as the two walked away from the crowd. The sun was slowly setting, colouring the sky in a deep orange. “I should get paid for this.”

Zuko shook his head, closing his eyes as his hands held the railing. The fresh air felt cool against his burning skin. His inner fire was having a blast that night. “No one needs to babysit me, Sokka.”

“Yeah, right, says you who was about to literally combust—”

Sokka’s voice disappeared as if cut with a knife.

Zuko heaved a sigh, he had heard the silent footsteps approaching them, he just wished the person would only be passing by. He didn’t have the energy for another political conversation. Not right now.

“Your staring is getting a little too obvious, my Lord.”

Even though he hadn’t heard your voice before, he knew at that instant that it was you.

Zuko’s eyes snapped open, turning his head, he found you standing beside him as if you had always been there, your expression calm - almost amused. Up close, the lotus pin caught the light differently.

“I— I wasn’t staring.”

Sokka let out a short, helpless laugh, raising his hands in surrender. Both your heads turned at his direction. “Yep, this is my cue to leave.” He said, pointing between the two of you. “I am not getting caught in… whatever this is.” With a final smirk, he stepped back.

“Try not to set anything on fire, Hotman.”

Zuko was this close to covering his face with his hands.

Once Sokka left you two alone, you let your eyes linger on the Fire Lord’s face shamelessly, for the very first time that night. His attractive face was enough to sweep anyone, men or women, off their feet and even if this wasn’t enough already, his burning eyes had been following you around. The whole fucking night.

Your lips curled, just slightly. “No?” You asked, teasing. Your look moved to Zuko’s lips for a short moment before returning back to his eyes. “Then I suppose I’ve been imagining it all night.”

When you first felt a pair of curious eyes on you, you weren’t intrigued much - it could have been anyone. Anyone but the Fire Lord himself. However, realising that you were the centre of his attention felt… different. It was exciting, but it was also a rather dangerous game you had decided to play with him.

Zuko’s jaw tightened. All night? “You’ve been watching me,” he said, quieter now. The last rays of sun were disappearing behind the horizon.

You tilted your head, that same motion from earlier. “Perhaps,” the fingers of your left hand trailed the railing, brushing Zuko’s hand holding them ever so gently each time. “Or perhaps I have felt the pair of gorgeous eyes following me around.”

Zuko straightened, though he didn’t move his hand - not closer, not further away. “Funny. You didn’t look particularly available.”

“I know to observe, my Lord,” the words left your lips softly, more like a purr as you stepped closer to him. Your left arm rested on the railing, fingertips touching Zuko’s hand, facing him. He was still facing the horizon, turning his head to catch your eyes. “I had the feeling that you wanted to get to know me.”

“I do,” Zuko spoke quickly, “I didn’t want to interrupt your… company. Or should I say, companies?”

You had to keep yourself from raising an eyebrow at him. He does know how to play. Leaning in slightly so that your shoulder was touching him, you spoke with a low voice. “I didn’t bring any escorts with me - did anyone tell you otherwise, my Lord?”

You straightened before Zuko could process your words.

She is not here with anyone? But then… who were all those men? Zuko shook his head, turning to face you. He was trying to keep it cool but failing miserably. “No, it is just… I thought… I mean—”

Without really giving it a thought, you found yourself pressing your index finger against the Fire Lord’s lips, shushing him. “You could’ve just asked me,” you whispered with a playful smirk on your lips. “You don’t look like a man who enjoys waiting.”

He was looking down at you, heavy breaths, but you couldn’t really decipher what was going on in his head. You wanted him to make the first move. He was the Fire Lord, after all, you were not going to throw yourself on him. Even though you could see his eyes getting darker, it felt like he needed one last push.

You slowly pulled back your hand, though you didn’t step back. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body, perhaps the most subtle sign of what an awfully powerful firebender he was.

“So,” your voice was a mere seductive whisper now, “are you going to keep watching me… or do something about it?”

His hand closed around your wrist before he fully realised what he was doing.

“Careful,” he muttered, pulling you a step closer. His smell was intoxicating. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You didn’t pull away.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The distance between you felt unbearable. His eyes were lingering on your lips, almost too eager to make the space between you burn. But instead, he just kept looking down at you with darkened eyes, his frame towering over yours. You felt your skin burn under his touch, though you couldn’t tell whether it was because of him or his firebending.

Slowly, his hand around your wrist travelled up your arm, your shoulder to cup your cheek. You let out a quivering sigh as you felt his touch. “Then show me,” you were looking up in his eyes as you spoke, “show me what I am asking for.”

Zuko’s other hand found your waist, pulling you against him, his restraint snapping in an instant; lips finding yours in a heat that felt long overdue.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

“You were right,” you panted as Zuko flipped you onto your stomach, “I did not know what I was asking for.”

A deep chuckle left Zuko’s lips, his eyes watching you hungrily, on all fours before him, ass up in the air. “I hope you are satisfied with what you’ve found, then.” His voice was husky when he spoke. Strong hands held you from your ass, pulling you more to the edge of the bed.

You sent him a look over your shoulder before letting your upper body rest on the bed. “The Fire Lord does live up to his reputation.”

“Hm, what reputation?”

“That you’re a restless lovema—” A loud moan interrupted your words as Zuko entered you, his left hand pushing you further down from your shoulders. “Fuck, that feels so good—”

He didn’t waste much time before picking up the pace. “I will make you feel even better,” the words left his lips as his hand moved to find your clit, his index finger drawing circles. You had to bite the sheets to keep yourself from screaming.

You had to admit - you had heard that he was good in bed, yes - but you didn’t expect him to be that good. Not keeps-fucking-me-deep-after-three-orgasms good. Oh boy, he had you seeing stars every time his hips met yours.

A deep grunt left Zuko’s lips. “You are getting tighter again,” his finger was moving faster now, applying slightly more pressure. You clutched at the sheet. “Can you give me another one?”

Seeing you naked and covered in sweat is enough to make me come again.

“If you ask nice enough,” you tried to sound flirty, only for your voice to come out totally breathless. Your moans were turning into soft cries loud enough anyone walking by to hear. “Fuck, Zuko, this won’t be silent.”

The feeling was building up quickly, your legs were already starting to shake.

“Let me hear you scream my name,” Zuko whispered, thrusting deeper into you, “I don’t care how loud you get.”

Your whole body began shaking as the bliss washed over you, sending you to a whole other dimension, making you see stars. The feeling was perhaps the most intense you had ever experienced yet, leaving you screaming his name and clutching at the sheet for dear life.

Zuko fucked you through your orgasm, rather mercilessly, as he chased his as well - the moment your walls clenched around his cock, he knew he was close. Perhaps closer than he thought.

As you slowly came down from your high, Zuko’s thrusts became faster, more sloppy, the sound of heavy breathing filling the room. He was missing the rhythm more often now, breaths getting irregular, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs - probably to leave some nasty marks. Not that you cared.

He whispered your name.

“Zuko,” your voice was weak and hoarse from all the screaming, “finish onto me. I want to see you.”

You didn’t realise how quickly he flipped you onto your back. His hair was a mess, the framing pieces sticking to his forehead with sweat, his lips parted. As he stroked his cock a few times to finish on your stomach, he looked so hot you could swear you felt yourself getting even wetter. He was a fucking masterpiece.

You couldn’t decide which was more attractive - the way he groaned when he came, the way he said your name, or the expression forming on his face. His whole body tensed, muscles twitching. He held onto one of the pillars of the bed with his free hand not to lose his balance as the last bits of his seed landed on your chest.

He looks gorgeous.

Zuko let himself fall down next to you on the bed, panting. You would rather climb onto his chest but you decided not to move your body since, well, your whole chest and stomach were covered in his cum. Instead you stretched your hand, lying it on his chest. You could feel how fast his heart was beating.

His warm hand closed on top of yours.

“I didn’t think the Fire Lord indulged in one-night stands.” You turned your head to look at him, a playful smile on your lips. Though deep down, you wished for this not to be a fling. I could get used to messing around in the Royal Chambers.

Zuko’s eyes met yours, you could see how much of a toll the action had taken on him after such a long day - still, hints of desire were visible in his amber eyes. “Who said it was only for one night?” He began to caress the back of your hand. “Perhaps I want to get to know you outside of my bedroom, too?”

Your eyes widened. A chuckle left Zuko’s lips.

“I should probably get you something to clean up,” he slowly stood up, heading for the bathroom in his chambers. Leaving you at a loss for words.

Maybe that stupid rumour was good for something after all.

Zuko returned a moment later, a damp cloth in his hand. The room had quieted in his absence, the only sound left was your steady breathing filling the room. For a second, he simply stood there, watching you, still sprawled across his bed, flushed, marked, his.

“You’re staring again,” you murmured, not even opening your eyes.

A faint huff of amusement left him as he moved closer. “I think I’ve earned it this time.”

You let out a soft hum as the mattress dipped beside you. The cloth was warm when it first touched your skin, gentle where his hands had been anything but moments ago. Still, the contrast made you shiver slightly.

Zuko’s gaze lingered on your face for a second too long before dropping.

His other hand was caressing your waistline with almost impeccable touches, as opposed to how hard his grip had been before. He was slower now. More deliberate. As if committing every inch of you to memory.

Your breath hitched when his fingers moved down, brushing your upper thigh. Your eyes were wide open.

“You are not done with me, are you?” Your voice was low, dripping with desire.

A heavy chuckle left Zuko’s lips as he wiped away the last drip of his cum from your hips, tossing the cloth away. “You are making it too easy, love.”

His fingers climbed up your inner thigh, painfully slow, your breaths becoming heavier with each passing moment. The heat in his eyes was overwhelming, making it harder to maintain eye contact without feeling the warmth between your legs growing more and more. When his fingers finally reached your core, burning with anticipation, you let out a quivering sigh.

Zuko clicked his tongue. “You are still so fucking wet,” he muttered while his index finger dipped into your wetness, moving up to your clit. Your fingers curled slightly into the sheets, lips slightly parted.

“You are the one to blame—”

You raised your head upon feeling Zuko’s weight lift off from the mattress, his fingers moving away. Slowly, as if giving you time to take in the sight, Zuko shifted to his knees at the edge of the bed, guiding your legs over his shoulders. You bit your lower lip without even realising.

“Then I’ll make sure it stays that way.” Zuko whispered while pulling you closer from your hips. He didn’t break eye contact as his lips closed around your clit, his tongue teasing you gently.

You threw your head back, eyes closed. “You will make me lose my fucking mind.”

His response was immediate - his hands spreading you open as his mouth found you, sucking on your clit. Your eyes flew open as a soft cry left your lips. Zuko began to circle with his tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure, all the while his eyes taking in every detail.

Naked, legs around his shoulders, damp hair falling in front of your eyes, kiss-bruised lips.

You propped yourself on one arm, the other one finding its way to Zuko’s hair. He let out a groan as he felt the tight grip, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure through your body. His hold on your hips tightened.

“This is so unfair,” you were breathless when you spoke, “how are you so good at this— oh fuck—”

Zuko broke the contact of his lips with your core for a split second, saliva dripping from his chin. “Much practice,” he muttered before sucking on your clit again, making you scream his name for the unknown-th time that night.

He was determined to get you off one last time, this one just with his tongue.

When your breathing became deeper and your soft cries louder, Zuko picked up the pace, applying more pressure. He was moving his tongue in all the ways possible - up and down, in circles, from side to side - probably waiting for you to tell him exactly the right one to push you over the edge.

“Just like that—” you whined, sweat forming on your forehead. “Fuck— Zuko, fuck, keep going— like that—”

Your grip on his hair tightened, your other hand clutching onto the sheets as you felt your orgasm hit you. Letting your upper body fall down onto the mattress, you arched your back, legs trembling. You didn’t even hear how loud you were. Zuko’s hold on you was tight, fingers dipping into your flesh, keeping you steady as he ate you out while you rode out your high.

When you came down, you didn’t even know on which planet you were.

“That,” Zuko whispered as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “was the hottest thing I have ever seen.”

He laid himself next to you on his side, eyes following your every movement as you tried to get a hold of reality.

“Have you tried looking in the mirror?” Your voice was tired when you spoke, you had used the last of your energy only moments ago.

A small laugh left Zuko’s lips, his fingers tracing your face. “I have to admit, I enjoy the flirtatiousness quite much.”

The edge of your lips curled upwards as you raised your face on a level with his, lips inches away. “Then you are going to love having me around, my Lord.”

(I am leaving the song here just in case (; )

Zuko set aside much of his concerns for the time being and embraced the kindred fire of first light as they braved the clouds. He had not wanted to—he felt he did not deserve to—yet was unable to stop himself from succumbing to relief, for what a long arduous battle it had been.

"This marks another win for team Avatar!" Sokka exclaimed breathlessly as he landed unceremoniously beside Zuko. He threw his arm over the railed edge of Appa’s saddle and deflated from the aftershock of nearly free-falling to his death.

"And what exactly did you contribute?" Toph queried.

"O you know, brains and brawn. Saved yalls butts twice! Not forgetting how my spectacular no bending invention single-handedly restored peace and balance to the world"

"You think you could use that no bending skills to save me from the wrath of my wife?”

Silence.

Sokka's head whipped toward Zuko whose face had shifted in an instant from calm serenity to petrified realization.

“I didn’t tell her I was leaving,” he muttered under his breath, staring into the sun as if it might offer him mercy.

Toph chortled, “Goodluck with that”

Sokka furiously shook his head. “Don’t drag me into this”

Aang, perched atop Appa’s head, looked back, glad he had not been in Sokka’s—or, worse yet, Zuko’s—stead because he, like the rest, had known your fiery temperament and had been subjected to its terrifying nature before, close enough to understand it wasn’t just talk or a joke passed over lightly.

Even Katara who could silence a room with a glance had never made him feel quite like this: that uneasy awareness of having already chosen the wrong side of a coming conversation.

He swallowed, suddenly very aware of his torn clothes, and looked away from Zuko. He was taken back to that one time during a stealth mission when Sokka and Zuko’s simple bantering had turned a quiet mission into near disaster.

It was a few years after Firelord Ozai’s defeat, when the plans for Republic City were still ink on paper and the world was trying to stitch itself back together.

They ran on exhaustion more than certainty, moving between rebuilding efforts, negotiations, and the precarious work of keeping the nations—set in their ways of war—from tearing at each other again.

The group had split in two. Probably not the smartest of plans. Aang was to take Sokka and Zuko, stake out a camp, trace patrol patterns, count soldiers, gather whatever intel they could, and await the signal.

But with three hours gone and still no sign of movement, Zuko, who wasn’t even supposed to be there in the first place, shifted from stillness into irritation. And with Zuko, irritation never stayed small for long.

Sokka noticed, of course. And Sokka—well, Sokka had never met a tense situation he couldn’t make worse on purpose.

“We’ll age out here before we see a single soldier. Look, Zuko’s already balding,” Sokka said, poking at a branch at Zuko’s feet with his boomerang.

“If you would stop talking, we might actually hear something useful.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sokka shot back, louder, “I didn’t realize Fire lord grumpy here was conducting a listening ceremony.”

The air tightened.

Aang had glanced between them, already sensing the shift before either of them fully committed to it. “Guys... maybe—”

And just like that, their bickering grew harsher, loud enough to have alerted an unseen passing patrol. “It’s the Avatar!!”

“You guys did it again!” Aang snatched up his staff in one motion. Air lifted him upward as he rose above the bushes, frustration flashing across his face. “Every time you argue, someone shows up and I'm always the first one noticed!”

Troops had plunged from the canopy of trees, emerging one after the other from the dark crevices of the forest with no end in sight.

Aang landed to help Zuko and Sokka.

But they were steadily driven back into a position where the enemy had gained the upper hand.

Like fury incarnate, earth had suddenly surged up in twin walls from the ground, folding the attackers in and cutting off every escape, and then water followed—an erosion, swift and precise washed through the space, locking every step in place as it hardened around their feet.

Every threat was flattened in a single, controlled strike.

The chaos gone as quickly as it had escalated.

You stood there afterward with a flat, unreadable expression, sweat clad and breathing heavier from the strain of such coordinated yet strenuous bending, your disappointment settling over them like stone.

Aang visibly shivered, his body reacting as the memory surfaced.

He could still feel it: the pressure of your words pinning them in place more effectively than any Earth Kingdom soldier ever had.

Since then, he had avoided anything even remotely reckless within your orbit. If something looked like it might spiral, he was already halfway out of it.

If Sokka started arguing, Aang found air.

If Zuko started pacing, Aang found distance.

If a plan felt even slightly like it might become “that kind of situation again,” Aang was suddenly, urgently needed somewhere else. Anywhere else.

He let out a small breath, rubbing the back of his neck as if it could ease the memory away.

“Yeah,” he muttered to himself, glancing off toward the horizon. “Not doing that again.”

Katara had heard the whole thing.

She didn’t feel sorry for them. Not really. They made their choices, and choices had consequences, therefore they should own up to it. Simple as that. Still, there was something faintly amusing about the way they spoke of you, like your presence alone had rewritten the rules of survival.

Katara had seen real fury before. Water crashing, storms breaking, emotions spilling over in waves.

And you…you were rational. That was all.

You were control. And control when it turned toward them felt like standing still in deep water as the current decided where one would go.

You were calm, collected, even when you reprimanded them. Somehow, that was exactly what made it worse. Because you didn’t raise your voice. Like every situation wasn’t an emotional mess to be shouted through—but a problem to be solved, with consequences carefully considered.

She sighed, shaking her. “Deserved.”

Toph nodded in agreement. Boys were stupid. Brainless. Rash. They had tendency to ruin most of what they touched… and didn’t touch.

Sokka spoke first, very carefully. “She once looked at me like I had personally offended the concept of intelligence.”

“You did,” Toph and Zuko replied in unison.

Sokka glared.

“You’re all ridiculous.” Then, almost absently, Katara added, “She doesn’t scare me.”

“And me,” Toph raised her hand.

Aang blinked. “Really?”

Katara rested against Appa. “She’ll be angry—and it's within her right to be. You left without telling her.”

Zuko looked toward the horizon, where messengers and rumours always seemed to travel faster than wind.

“And after what just happened,” she added, quieter now, “news of the scale of the wreckage will reach her soon.”

Sokka patted Zuko’s shoulder with forced sympathy. “You're going to have to deal with this one yourself buddy”

Zuko’s expression didn’t change. “You’re coming with me.”

“Nope.” Sokka's leg hooked lazily over the other, letting the slight breeze catch him as if he had already emotionally checked out. “This is a royal problem. Fire Nation business. Husband wife stuff.”

Toph snorted, pointedly removed from the conversation in the exact way Sokka had hoped to be.

“Sokka”

“What Katara? I value my life.”

Aang shifted uncomfortably as Appa readied to land. “In her… condition. I don’t think she’s going to just—focus on one person.”

Zuko’s eye twitched. He clearly caught the implication, but swallowed it down with visible effort. “…You’re all coming,” he said flatly.

Sokka pointed at him. “That’s not how protection works!”

Appa touched down near the city center with a thud that rippled through the streets below.

“It's been a while. We could do with a visit” She smoothed a hand over Appa’s fur, a smile written across the corners of her mouth.

“Sweet.” Toph shrugged, entirely unbothered. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

With Katara and Toph in agreement, the decision was already made.

Zuko would be returning home regardless, so his vote counted for nothing.

As for Aang and Sokka…they weren’t given a choice.

With much still to be done in the wake of the destruction left behind, Sokka suggested they remain in Republic City for the day, where they would clean up, rest, and handle a few lingering matters before setting out for the Fire Nation the following morning.

This time, his opinion had been heard and agreed upon.

Zuko was grateful, albeit hesitant. He told himself it was better to return home fully rested and composed than to arrive in torn clothes, injuries half-healed, and every weakness laid bare for scrutiny.

•.‿︵˖⤿🐦‍🔥 ঌ˖︵‿.•

Steam curled lazily along the stone walls.

Zuko submerged himself under the hot water longer than necessary. When he resurfaced, it ran over his shoulders, down his arms and chest as if it could rinse out more than just soot and sweat.

The day replayed itself in fragments. Then went further back to when his hope for redemption sparked and brought him to this point. Then even further back—deeper into the memories of his childhood when he'd been taught the history of his Nation, their climb to dominance and success…to the demise of the Air Nomad. Aang's people.

He exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the tub, his arms resting along its curved edges.

His chest rose with the steam, then eased back down—steady as the flicker of candlelight in a still room.

“What troubles you, My Lord?”

A ghost of a touch brushed his shoulder where a deep incision had been healed to a dark bruise. Another sensation had followed shortly, a softer collision against his shoulder.

“Why? Do you plan on kissing my troubles away?”

He had found himself smiling.

“Oh, I can do a lot more than that…” you replied, voice warm with that familiar spark—the kind that didn’t burn outwards so much as it simply refused to dim.

His hand had rested on your hip, fingers idly tugging at the absurd amount of layers in your dress as if grounding himself in something real.

“Thank you…”

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” you mused, tilting your head to capture his lips in a simple kiss before tucking his hair behind his ears.

But Zuko had meant it in all honesty. “For being here”

“Even when it got hard. Even when everything changed… when it was an upheaval and adjustment for you.”

You had become his calm, the push and pull of water, steadying him when everything else felt uncertain.

And yet, despite the water that flowed through your veins, making you strong, composed, and grounding, there was a fire breathing beneath it.

It was obvious in the way you moved through the world—quick to flare, quick to speak, quick to challenge anything that stirred too comfortably around you.

“Those eyes look as if they could do no wrong,” your finger traced the slope of his nose, slow and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world to map him out, to revitalize the memory of him.

It lingered there for just a moment too long—enough to blur the line between thought and touch—before drifting down, over the heat of his cheek, across his jaw to pinch his chin.

His breath caught, subtle but sharp.

He didn’t move at all, caught between the instinct to step back and the more dangerous urge to stay exactly where he was.

“But it’s not enough to get you out of trouble,”

His body jolted upright.

The bathwater around him swayed at the suddenness. The illusion broken instantly, like heat breaking through glass.

He dragged a hand down his face. Once. Firm.

Exhaustion. That was all it was. A tired mind pulling shapes out of absence just to fill the missing and overexertion and the hunger.

Nothing more.

He pushed up through the water, muscles tightening as cold air met damp skin. Heavy droplets clung to him, sliding slowly down his shoulders and legs, tracing paths to corners touched by your heat.

For a moment, he stood there letting the realization settle back into something he could control. Then he stepped out of the tub.

The towel came around his waist in practiced motion. Water hit tile in uneven rhythms behind him as he dried his hair, wringing it out before clipping it back and walking into the room he'd been given.

Soft bedding, muted light, walls too clean to feel familiar. Comfortable, but not home. Not anything that could anchor the feeling he’d just shaken off. He crossed it anyway.

He dressed in silence, awkwardly folding each movement into the next like he'd long forgotten how to do it himself.

By the time he lay down in bed, at last, the room was dark except for the faint spill of city light through the window.

Sleep didn’t come quickly, and so he stared at the ceiling, listening to the distant ensemble of Republic City—too alive to feel entirely restful. His mind drifted anyway: plans, routes, conversations yet to happen, versions of tomorrow that all ended in the same place.

Zuko closed his eyes. And eventually, after a long stretch of misery—sleep finally took him.

•.‿︵˖⤿🐦‍🔥 ঌ˖︵‿.•

The sun wasn’t even up yet. Sokka stared into oblivion with a bag slung under his arm, blinking slowly like sleep itself was personally refusing him entry.

Toph flicked a pebble at him. It struck him square in the forehead.

“OW—hey!” Sokka yelped, stumbling sideways and nearly taking himself out on a crate. “What was that for?!”

“Keeping you awake,” Toph said. “You were starting to look peaceful. It was disturbing.”

Zuko stepped past them, passing Aang the last of the supplies before climbing up onto Appa with the efficiency of someone ready to get back home.

“I feel like I should’ve been consulted on this,” Sokka muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Katara didn’t even turn around. “You were.”

“I would remember being consulted.”

“You were informed,” she corrected. “Then you complained.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“It is exactly the same thing.”

Toph lifted herself onto Appa, joining Zuko and Katara. “You’re coming. Stop whining.”

“I am not whining—this is strategic concern for my continued existence.”

Katara was unimpressed.

“I hate when the group consensus is ‘we suffer together.’”

“Oh, don’t be such a dramatic shrimp fry. You’re the only one acting like this is a funeral march.” Toph laid down and pulled a blanket over herself and lay down.

With the long journey ahead, she might as well catch up on sleep

“I’m not being dra—” he yawned mid-word, staggering slightly, “matic.”

“Sure.”

Aang tightened his cloak against the early morning chill. “Everyone ready?”

Zuko nodded. “Let’s go.”

“Appa, yip yip”

Appa shifted beneath them with a low rumble, then launched into the air.

︵ঌ︵

The flight home filled with an anticipation Zuko had yet to process.

It was not the first time he'd been away from you this long.

Between diplomatic missions, routine territory checks, and military assessments, distance had become a familiar part of his life. But this time was different.

This was the only time he had left without telling you where he was going. And that sat with him miserably.

There was much to think about—beyond the worry for you and his children. It was what lingered beneath that, something he had long claimed to have moved past. And yet, still kept him awake.

Years had passed. He had healed. He had… He had tempered those stubborn irrational flames that drove him. Gained loyal allies, true friendship, married the love of his life, named his first born through strength and legacy.

Why couldn’t he forget the years shaped by hate and obsession?

He had once believed capturing the Avatar would prove his worth. That it would earn back his father’s love, his respect. But somewhere along that path, his ambition had twisted—and the that which he hunted had turned, and hunted him in back.

His honour had never known the golden glory of which existed so strongly today, at the same time, his heart sunk unbearably beneath the guilt such honour carried.

As a full day passed since they left Republic City, Appa flew as though time itself were pressing forward.

Aang could feel the anticipation build in the air surrounding Zuko, he and his bison shared the same understanding—faster was better. The sooner they arrived, the sooner everything could finally settle.

With the second sunrise creeping over the horizon, Sokka and Toph snored their way through the early hours in complete disregard for dignity or altitude.

Katara and Aang sat closer together, speaking in low voices, their conversation soft enough to fade into the wind. Zuko remained near the edge of Appa’s saddle. He looked away from them.

He traced the familiar shapes of mountains and rivers as they passed beneath him, each landmark drawing him closer to home—closer to you, and he counted the minutes.

Quite literally.

Though how accurate he was, he couldn't tell. Only that home was getting closer.

When they crossed into Fire Nation territory, the land was scarred by craters of old destruction, softened now by layers of green grass and scattered wildflowers.

Time had not erased them—only made them appear less frightening.

Sokka stirred at last.

He sat up, squinting at the light. He took in his surroundings, let out a long yawn, then moved closer to Zuko who watched as shapes began to form in the distance.

The roads grew more ordered. The settlements more structured. A different world unfolding as they neared the capital.

“Amazing,” Sokka breathed, genuine admiration softening his voice.

Things had changed since he was last there.

Zuko felt pride swell in his chest. It had taken all of them… but most of all, it had taken you. The Fire Nation was no longer something to fear. It was thriving.

By the time they arrived at the palace, the sun was high overhead, drawn near its peak.

They were all momentarily pulled from their grievances, awestruck by the bright banners stretched across the streets below, and the sound of voices rising in organized waves—chants, cheers, a welcome that rolled through the capital.

Their arrival had been expected, it seemed. Likely your doing.

They offered their waves in return, Sokka a little more enthusiastic once he realized this wasn’t a public execution.

Toph tilted her head. “What’s happening?”

“They’re cheering,” Aang said.

“Yeah, I got that. What does it look like?” she shot back dryly.

“Cheerful… alive,” Katara answered, an understatement to the welcome they received.

Appa stuck his landing with heavy force, wind rushing outward with a strong gust that sent he robes and banners snapping.

The members of court straightened immediately, then bowed in unison as their Fire lord stood to his full height.

And there he saw you. At the forefront, fury that rivalled his flames—no smile, no softness, nothing but your gaze focused squarely on him.

Zuko descended from Appa, his feet meeting cold concrete, his shoulders poised.

He approached.

Even with a scowl firm upon your face, you were—without question—the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"My love" his voice lowered, tone of command gone, replaced with reverence of worship.

Behind him, Katara felt her chest tighten just slightly, warmth blooming as she watched it unfold—this quiet, undeniable proof of how far he had come from the boy who once burned too quickly for his own good.

But all good things must meet reality eventually—or in this case, a wife reminding her husband he was still in trouble, and no victory or sweet tone would get him out of it.

“Welcome home, Fire lord Zuko”

His breath hitched for the smallest fraction of a second, not enough for anyone to call it out. Composure followed a half-beat late.

Behind you, his Advisor and Chamberlain stood rigid, guilt practically written into every wrinkle on their faces.

The court, usually so accustomed to political tension, held a bated breath for an entirely different reason now.

It wasn’t fear of their Fire Lord that alerted them, it was the controlled fury of their Lady that unleashed when she saw her husband.

"Do you care to explain yourself, or shall I have the divorce papers drafted?"

Zuko’s collar suddenly felt tighter than it had any right to be. The fabric pressed against his throat like it had shrunk in the heat of the moment. His posture stayed upright out of habit, but something in him had clearly faltered.

“Aang needed my help,”

The courtyard seemed to forget how to breathe.

The attendants stiffened altogether; one advisor’s scroll slipped slightly in his grip before he caught it too late, the rustle sounding far too loud.

Katara’s stifled her amusement while Sokka made a small, strangled noise like he was deciding whether to laugh or pray.

Toph smirked faintly, head tilted as if listening to the emotional damage in real time.

Even Aang, somewhere in the group, looked personally betrayed by his own name being used as justification.

And at the centre of it all, the air between you and Zuko sweltered.

"Is that an excuse I hear?”

“No—”

“Someone’s in trouble.” Sokka said with a grin that suggested he was enjoying this far too much.

It lasted exactly until Katara struck him lightly on the back of the head, silencing him mid-smirk.

“I was going to tell you—”

You side-stepped your husband mid-sentence. No hesitation.

They had all frozen, the Fire lord reduced not by battle, but by the displeasure of his wife.

“Katara”

Your voice noticeably changed first. The warmth returned like nothing had happened. Like it had all been folded away in an instant and replaced.

Katara didn’t hesitate as she crossed the space and pulled you into a tight embrace. Sisters through water, war, and everything that came after it.

Sokka, who had been raving in fear of your reaction was pulled into a hug too, which surprised him.

“Wow. Pregnancy has changed you" he said before he could stop himself.

Katara immediately pinched him.

“Battle wounds? No. More like survival wounds from you violent people.”

Sokka barely had time to finish before Katara pinched him again, harder this time.

“OW—okay, okay!” he yelped, recoiling and rubbing his arm. “I’m kidding! Mostly kidding!”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It’s fine. Pregnancy has been messing with me, but I’m in a good mood.”

“You're lying” Toph chuckled.

“I'm trying to be in a good mood,” you corrected. “I haven't seen you guys in a while… A visit must've fell from your list of priorities”

Toph gestured to Appa. “Not all of us have a flying bison or a fleet of airships, you know.”

“Mhm.” You looked sideways. “Zuko won't have an airship for a while either.”

That earned a quiet exhale from him.

He stepped closer toward you, but you moved away anyway.

A beat passed. Then Aang stepped forward last, a smile that hadn't truly reached his eyes.

You embraced him tightly.

“You look worse for wear" you said.

“Getting better” he breathed out.

That seemed to ease something in you.

You stepped back, one hand resting over your stomach as your eyes moved across them—taking in all of them at once.

The whole mess. The whole family. Back in one place, even if briefly.

Above you, Momo suddenly darted in a tight circle, chittering excitedly around your head.

“Hello to you too, Momo,” you said, amused. “And Appa as well.”

You motioned once, and your lady servants quietly withdrew. “I've had someone prepare your rooms. I'm sure you'll want to rest. The kitchen has prepared a light meal—we can meet for dinner tonight”

Zuko exhaled halfway then stopped when you turned to him, and the breath he’d started to release stalled completely in his chest.

“And you…”

“The Avatar needed my help. I didn't know things would—”

“You had the whole court lie for you!”

A beat.

The officials shifted first. Then the attendants. Then the guards.

Zuko raised a hand.

The courtyard moved. Footsteps scattered and scrambled. Armor clinked. Doors shut too quickly.

“He lets them run but tells me to face my death with honour.” Sokka whispered to Toph.

“That makes you less of a coward.”

Katara didn’t hesitate when she grabbed Sokka by the ear and Toph by the forearm.

“Aang!” she called sharply.

Aang blinked then hurriedly followed, leaving you and your husband alone in the courtyard.

“Are you really mad?” He asked softly, catching your face and tilting so your eyes met his.

“Oh rest assured, Honourable Fire Lord—” you swat his hand away, “I am furious!”

You walked first. And he shadowed your every step.

No argument. No pride. Just footsteps behind you, matching your pace through the palace halls, through archway and past carved pillars.

When you finally reached the bedroom, the door shut behind him with a firm click.

You pulled the headpiece from your hair—the one he had given you—and set it down onto the vanity harder than necessary.

“I am not some weak women who can't handle knowing her husband is needed for some greater purpose,” you said. “I do not need constant coddling for every matter you think might cause even the slightest negative reaction. I will not fall apart and I will not beg you to stay when Aang needs you…

But I am your wife!”

His arm came around you carefully, folding over your swollen stomach first, grounding himself there as if that was the most honest place to start. His hold was warm, steady, deliberate.

"You are..." he affirmed with pride—with certainty, submission and subservience that wasn’t defeat but devotion.

He leaned his forehead briefly against your shoulder. “You are my wife. And I know that.”

You slapped his hand. It stung, but he just refolded then into place again.

“Let go”

“No”

You looked one sentence away from losing patience entirely. For a brief second, you even looked like you might hit him again.

Zuko, infuriatingly calm, smiled like he could read the thought forming. Then he pressed a light kiss to your shoulder, unbothered.

“I’ll let go if you stop being angry.”

“Not a chance”

You elbowed him in the gut, easily manoeuvring out of his hold, slower but no less familiar with the way your body had been trained to move.

“Feisty woman,” he rasped, hunched over.

He said your name. No answer. Repeated it again.

You slammed your hands down on the table. “What were you thinking!?”

“I'm sorry”

“You hear that, little one? That’s what we call a half-hearted apology. A lie. Your father pulled that one straight from his ass.”

He was sincere—not just because he knew he’d upset you, or because you deserved an apology, but because he knew better. He knew better… and still doubted himself.

“I am sorry… but I—”

“Left. You left. With lies. With people keeping me in the dark because you thought it was best.

Where is your honour in that, Zuko?”

Your voice cracked.

The baby, as if sensing your distress, delivered a series of sharp kicks to your abdomen. You pressed your palm over your stomach, trying to soothe the movement, but the ache lingered.

“What if you died? You would’ve left without a proper goodbye. I would’ve known nothing. Nothing.”

Zuko finally moved—like he was forcing himself not to recoil from the hurt in your voice. “…I didn’t think further than what had happened last time”

The memory surfaced, uninvited. A civil war breaking out across the Nation. Smoke on the horizon. Orders lost in the collision. And you—pregnant, close to term, already carrying more weight than anyone should have had to.

There had been a complication then. One that had nearly forced him into a choice that still didn’t feel real even years later—he was on the ground mid-battle when they told him. A decision he had never forgiven the world for making him consider.

So when Aang’s summons came—impossible to ignore—he had hesitated.

He had told himself he was protecting you by not telling you. By leaving quickly. By avoiding panic, avoiding stress, avoiding anything that might tilt the balance again.

But standing there now, watching your hands press into the table, watching the anger that came from love rather than distance, he understood what he had actually done.

He hadn’t protected you.

He had repeated the mistake in a different way.

His throat tightened.

“I thought—” he started, then stopped. Because there was no version of that sentence that didn’t fall apart halfway through.

“…I was wrong,” he said instead. “I should have told you. I should have trusted you with it.”

A pause.

“It was foolish to leave. It was even more foolish to think I could have the entire court lie to you… keep you in the dark until things blew over… I was foolish.”

"You were."

"I was…"

No deflection. No attempt to soften it.

You hated him. But you couldn't deny him. He had tried, but he was still only human. Human in his mistakes, human in the way he carried them, and human in the way he sometimes let fear speak louder than trust.

Neither of you moved. But then you stepped forward.

Zuko raised his arm, and you walked into his embrace, your forehead pressing into his chest as your breath caught like you’d been holding it in for too long.

“I’m here,” he murmured, meant only for you.

His hand brushed along your jaw as he leaned in—slow enough to give you time, to let you pull away if you wanted to.

You didn’t.

Your breath met his first. Then your lips.

Zuko left soft, lingering pecks along your bottom lip, unhurried, testing, like he was relearning something he had no right to rush.

Then, slowly, he deepened the kiss.

His hands came up to cradle your neck, warm. Always warm.

You swore he ran hotter than any fire bender alive. Not just heat, but presence.

Something constant, something that pressed into you without burning—unless you let it.

He was warmth in every sense of it. Like the thick summer air that clung to your skin, heavy and inescapable…

And like a fire in the dead of winter, steady, consuming, offering comfort the moment you stepped too close to the cold.

He stroked your earlobe while his other hand found the inner corner of your robe, easing it from your shoulder.

Zuko hummed, pleased by the way you inclined toward his touch.

But you sooner pulled away, telling him to go ahead to the bath chamber.

When you joined him, towel set aside, your fingers found his belt, undoing the knot with practiced ease.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

His eyes traced your every move while you carefully avoided his gaze.

You pushed his robes from his shoulders, letting the fabric fall away and onto your forearm.

Zuko he stepped back to remove his boots then the rest of his clothing, until nothing remained between him and you.

“Could you…” you gestured toward the water.

“Of course,” he mused.

Zuko lifted his hand, and with an effortless breath, flame sparked to life in his palm. The water responded instantly, steam rising in soft curls with a gentle hiss, the surface rippling before it settled.

You sat on the low stone slated edge of the bath as he lowered himself into the water.

“…You’re not joining me?” he asked.

“Waters too hot for me," you replied, reaching for a cloth.

You dipped it, then dragged it gently over his chest, over the bruises no water could heal.

Zuko had eased almost instantly under your care, the tension in his neck and shoulders unwinding as he rested his head against the stone.

His eyes closed, letting you take care of him.

︵ঌ︵

His face sank into the plush mattress, inhaling the faint trace of your scent that lingered in every crease of the sheets.

A low groan escaped him as his body finally registered how tired it was. His arms stretched out loosely, then went still, like even moving felt optional now.

“Where’s Atsumi?”

“Asleep. She’s been running a terrible fever.”

Half-lidded eyes shot open. Halfway through getting up, you pressed a hand firmly to his chest and pushed him back down.

Zuko's breath hitched.

“She hasn't slept well in two days. She needs rest…”

“Then I should—”

You didn’t let him.

“Carry on,” you said flatly.

Zuko exhaled through his nose, tension easing in reluctant stages. His shoulders sank back into the mattress, the fight draining out of him.

“She’s going to hate that I didn’t check on her immediately,” he muttered.

“I spent two nights consoling her cries all while dealing with this little Firestarter in my stomach kicking and acting up. You’re not going to wake her.”

He cupped your thigh as you came to straddle him, thumb rubbing circles.

“I should’ve been here,” he said quietly.

“You are here now.”

“That’s not the same.”

“No,” you agreed. “It’s not. But because of you, we're still here”

“…Is she really alright?”

“As alright as any child with your temperament could be” you said.

That earned the smallest, tired curve at the corner of his mouth.

“She’s more like you…”

She was. But she looked exactly like him.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair… a little insecure of it.

Zuko kissed your clothed inner-thigh before he smoothly flipped your positions.

He lifted your leg to wrap around his waist, lowering you into the position he was just in. Then, like he couldn't help himself, he face invaded your personal space—no such thing existed between you.

A kiss to your cheek, your forehead, then the bridge of your nose. His hand found yours, fingers threading tightly with yours against the sheets before he raised them above your head.

“You have nothing to fear,” he whispered.

“Beside my husband sneaking off on suicide missions.”

“Aside from that…”

Zuko caressed the back of your hand, his touch slow and deliberate, before lifting your joined hands to his mouth.

Your leg tightened around his waist. He made a low sound in the back of his throat, half a grunt and half pleading. He looked at your through his eyelashes—in worship… with unveiled devotion.

You skimmed your fingers up the column of his throat—over the thick pulsing vein—pausing at his scar.

He went still as you kissed it.

The heat flourished in his cheeks, not just embarrassment or shyness, but something far more vulnerable—enough to bring him to tears.

He kissed you before they ever fell—before he could retreat into his pain instead of his heart.

•.‿︵˖⤿🐦‍🔥 ঌ˖︵‿.•

The last remnants of the day had begun to flee when you, flushed and exhausted, pulled yourself out from beneath the blanket and sank back onto your pillow. Zuko's insatiable hunger followed instinctively—too close, too heated.

You pushed at his shoulder before he could hover over you completely.

He laid a kiss onto you stomach, the gesture reverent. The baby kicked which warmed his heart.

Lowering himself until his ear rested against it, nuzzling his nose against the stretched skin.

Endearments whispered his love—the ache in your bones a testimony to it.

“We should get ready for dinner…” you mumbled weakly.

“Not obliged to attend,” Zuko replied, unmoving, still half-lounged against you like he had no intention of letting go.

“Courtesy…” You sat up.

He muttered something incomprehensible under his breath before sitting up properly, dragging a hand through his hair to reset himself into something resembling a Fire Lord again.

But the softness didn’t fully leave his face. Not when he stared at you.

You rolled your shoulder with a wince, working out the tension still lingering there.

Without a word, he crossed the space between you.

His silk robe draped over your shoulders, adjusted it gently, fingertips brushing briefly as he made sure it covered well.

“As you wish.”

And so he did.

From the bath to the cloth, from lifting you in and out and carrying you about, from laying out your dress and seeing you fit for the hall—Zuko had done it all.

By the time you entered the dining hall, the others were already seated.

Zuko led you in with your hand set light upon his forearm. His hair bound up neat and proud, the Fire Nation emblem set through it, gold catching the lamp-light and casting a warm gleam over the room’s high beams and carved stone.

You took the first step in. Then, just as you had almost reached the table, a small blur sprang from Aang’s lap and darted across the room in a flash of light and laughter.

Zuko dropped at once to one knee, swift as a striking hawk, and caught the child with ease before she could collide with his legs.

“Papa!” she cried, laughing so hard it came out like a squeal.

At the sound, Zuko’s heart was pried open with joy.

His arms closed around her small body without hesitation, his entire composure shifted in an instant to her father.

Katara’s face softened at once, and Aang watched her with a look that held both warmth and wonder. You saw it.

And you smiled just slightly as you took your seat.

Sokka, already halfway through pouring a drink, slid a glass toward you with exaggerated seriousness.

“For the Lady of the Fire Nation,” he said, trying—and failing—not to look smug about the chaos he was witnessing.

Zuko lifted her with ease as she tugged at his collar and pointed at nothing in particular with the absolute certainty of a child who believed everything belonged to her.

“I found him,” she announced proudly to no one and everyone.

“You always do,” Zuko said, almost amused, pressing a brief kiss to her hair.

Zuko sat beside you, his daughter in his lap. But she stayed no longer than a minute before she was up and dangling onto Sokka's shoulder.

With everyone seated and settled, though “settled” was a generous word for it. You began to eat.

Your daughter—who by all means should have been limp and fever stricken—had decided otherwise.

She clung to Sokka’s shoulder one moment, nearly toppling over into his plate of food the next. He yelped, simultaneously catching her and his plate.

“Hey, hey… tiny tyrant, sit down!”

But she had slipped from him like water, already darting after Momo, who chittered in alarm and delight as he took flight just out of her reach.

Aang winced. “Momo, don’t encourage her—!”

Too late.

She spun again, quick as a spark, and made her way to Toph’s side. A small hand reached. A piece of food vanished.

Toph didn’t even move.

“You’re lucky I like you,” she said, chewing slowly, though the faintest smirk tugged at her mouth.

“I got it,” your daughter declared proudly, already halfway gone again.

Zuko watched her with a mix of disbelief and quiet awe, like he couldn’t quite decide whether to intervene or admire the sheer force of her will.

“She was sick?” he murmured under his breath.

You shrugged.

Atsumi, after several laps around the dining table, finally slowed and squeezed her way between Katara and Aang, picking up the little bison stuffed toy she had left in their care earlier.

Conversation had found its rhythm. Old friends catching up. Distant family telling tales.

You listened. You replied. You added where needed.

But eventually, almost without noticing, the conversation had deepened.

“…And the damage?” you asked.

Zuko’s hand stilled slightly beside yours.

Aang glanced up. Katara’s posture straightened just enough to be noticed. Even Sokka quieted, though he tried to hide it behind a bite of food.

“Later then,” you glanced at Zuko.

Sokka, ever the first to recover, leaned back on his hands. “Great. ‘Later.’”

Toph snorted. “You act like you’re the one in trouble.”

“I am in trouble,” Sokka shot back. “I was there. I participated. I enabled—”

“If anyone’s in trouble… it’s Zuko,”

Zuko shot her a look of warning immediately—but there was no real bite to it.

He was just grateful you were currently occupied with redirecting your daughter away from Momo’s tail before she discovered yet another way to test the limits of her mothers patience.

“…She shouldn’t have this much energy.”

You huffed, sitting down with her.

Aang smiled faintly at that. “I remember someone else who didn’t know when to stop.”

Zuko pursed his lips.

“…You chased me across the world.”

Sokka pointed between them. “Everyone here has a history of making questionable decisions but I’m always the liability?”

“You are the liability,” Toph said flatly.

“I am the glue of this group.”

“You’re the gum that gets stuck under my barefoot,” she shot back.

You and Katara shared a laugh.

“So what will happen now?” you asked, looking over your daughters head as she climbed into your lap without permission and then dove into her fathers lap when he sat.

He was breathing heavy.

Atsumi had made him chase her around the room, laughter echoing between the tables until even the guards had started pretending not to watch.

You argued it was dinner and he had already eaten half of his meal, but Zuko didn’t know how to say no to her—especially not when she looked at him like that.

Aang set his bowl down before answering, his tone thoughtful, already a step ahead in planning. “We’ll head back to Republic City. There’s still work to be done”

Sokka groaned softly. “Ah yes, more work. My favourite.”

“You don’t do the work,” Katara said.

“I supervise the work.”

“You eat during the work.”

“I fuel morale.”

Toph flicked a raisin at him.

Ignoring them, Aang concluded. “After that… I’ll be taking the new Acolytes to the place Sonan mentioned.”

Zuko glanced between them before speaking. “I can have airships prepared by morning, if you'd need it.”

Aang nodded in quiet appreciation. “That would help.”

Katara glanced at him. “You’re sure about this?”

“It’s time,” Aang said simply.

Zuko considered that. “Let me know what you need. Supplies. Support. Anything.”

Aang met his gaze and nodded once.

“I will.”

Eventually, you had the table cleared and replaced with light desserts and tea because no one seemed ready to head to bed yet. The atmosphere was warm. Unrushed. The company welcomed.

And in that small pocket of noise, you leaned slightly toward Zuko.

Your voice dropped—low enough that it belonged only to him.

“You should go with them.”

He stilled.

“You want me to leave again?” he asked quietly.

You smiled, faint yet certain. “I want you to see there’s still hope.”

Your words sunk in—finding places within his soul that had learned to never complain again. The past was not something he spoke of often, but it lived in him all the same.

The Fire Nation had taken everything from Aang’s… and even now, it still kept him up at night—haunting thoughts that never went away no matter how much time had passed or how much he had tried to make right what could be made right.

It was part of the reason he had moved so quickly when Aang’s message arrived.

And though he had not been the one to begin it, he had once chased its ending for all the wrong reasons.

That guilt had never quite left.

Your hand brushed lightly against his beneath the table.

“That isn’t yours to carry alone, nor is it his” you added, looking across the table.

Aang laughed boisterously at something Sokka had said.

“You think I can help with that?”

You didn’t hesitate.

“I know you can.”

Zuko’s eyes flicked toward him.

Toward the future being built in small, stubborn pieces.

“Uhm… guys— just letting you know… she's really hot," Sokka said, wide-eyed as she clung to him with alarming determination.

“Atsumi” Zuko called.

Her fever must be returning.

At once, she looked up. And just as quickly—faster than she ever listened to anyone else, faster than when you called—she broke away from Sokka and returned to her fathers side.

No hesitation. No protest.

“I’ll take her to get her medicine”

Zuko stood for the hundredth time that night.

He bent down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. There was still too much left unspoken behind his eyes, too many thoughts he hadn’t yet sorted into words.

He lifted your daughter carefully into his arms as if she were the most natural extension of himself.

Then he turned—already halfway gone in his mind. Tethered only by habit, by love, by everything he had built and still didn’t quite believe he deserved.

And you watched him go.

Your incandescent.

⥁Copyright © 2026 by halahxze — I claim no ownership of any referenced materials beyond my original writing and ideas. No part of this publication may be reproduced, republished, translated, or transmitted into Ai nor onto any other platform.

You were—or, trying to, anyway. He’s almost always rough like this but shit even after years of being with the man, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the girthy inches of his cock. Hence why your eyes are meeting the back of your skull and you’re babbling soft moans of his name down into the bedding.

“T-Toji,” You mewl sweetly, prompting a mean reel of his toned hips back back back until his sopping tip is left leaving a lewd lil’ kiss against the slit of your cunt. A filthy string of slick droops between the two of you and he tuts. 

“Hm? What’s wrong?” He huffs with a tilt of his head. That large hand of his gives your already hand-marked ass a gentle rub-over while he awaits your shaky reply. Your lashes are busy fluttering and you don’t even continue your statement—instead, you wiggle your hips back, urging for him to push into you again.

It’s then that Toji gets what you want and decides to tease you just a bit more, taking his heavy cock into his hands and moving to tap the head against your left ass cheek. “Whaat?” He utters breathily, almost as if he were mocking you and cooing at you simultaneously, “You want me back inside ya’?”

Nodding dumbly, you just barely angle your head to look back at him and you’re met with his intense hazy verdant gaze. “Mhm,” You grumble to him.

In comes that cocky smile of his and he completely removes his hands from both you and himself, clasping them behind his back for a moment as he redirects his gaze down to what little space remains between his cock and your pulsing hole.

“Heh,” He scoffs shortly and then nods his chin down at the lewdness below him, “Work for it. Lemme see that hand,” Toji directs, to which you hesitate little to shift your hand under your body and in between your legs, fingertips grazing his sensitive balls for half a second before you messily wrap your hand around his cock and tug on him carefully. “Fuuck,” He smiles at your fingers perfectly hugging his throbbing shaft, “That’s a pretty rock I gotcha’, isn’t it?”

Oh, right. How could you have possibly forgotten the reason he’s been acting the way he has all night. You’re engaged now. He proposed earlier that day right after dinner and it was the most romantic thing ever—of course he had you wear that ring for the rest of the night, even while he fucks you stupid.

“Mhmm…” The sound of Toji’s throaty hum makes your cunt shiver in pure need. You carefully angle his cock toward your pussy and catch a glimpse of him drooling a little before he swipes his tongue over his lips and pulls his lower one in between his teeth. Voice dipping an octave lower, “Keep goin’, guide me to her.”

Shifting your knees backwards against the bed and closing the distance between his length and you, you decide only to get back at him for a few seconds and purposefully swipe his angry cockhead up ‘n down against your slobbering folds. You watch the way his eyebrows twist up and his lips part softly, a breathy sound dangerously close to a whine falling from his dampened mouth.

“Don’t do that, baby,” Toji whispers, quickly moving his beefy hands to your hips and pushing himself forward. “Y’know how much I hate bein’...” His jaw falls open as you interrupt his sentence by merely pulling his cock an inch inside you, “...T-Teased-, shit.”

You continue on like that for a while, fucking yourself solely on his plump cockhead and getting drunk off the feeling. Not to mention the heavy grunts Toji releases as you keep control. His eyes are so greedy on you and he simply can't get enough.

Your sappy walls hug the ridges of his cock so snug that it makes his breath grow heavier by the second even though he's not fully inside you. “Fuck." Your fiancé muttered, "Look at you, all perfect jus’ f’me.”

You're slow to retract your hand and focus all your movement into your hips, feeling him give you a lazy roll forward as his cock slots back into your cunt in one slippery motion. Letting off a moan of his name once he casually reaches the hilt of your pussy, “Toji..”

He swallows down whatever pathetic noise had been on the verge of escaping his throat and gives your hips a tender squeeze, “Hmm?”

You forget why exactly you called his name for a hot second due to the way he picks up this slow but deep pace with you—a complete contrast to earlier. Your face turns into the bed for a moment and you whine, “Hnngh…" Lips parting hotly against the sheets, you eventually manage out a muffled, "'Love you."

His cock throbs inside you and you gasp at the way he snaps his hips forward unintentionally, moving his palms to the bed at your sides and leaning down to you, “You love me?” Toji taunts, earning a cute nod of your head. “Yeahhh? Go on, show me then. Show me how much you love this cock right now,” His hand slithers under you and you feel his weight press against you, deepening the aching inches inside you whilst his thick calloused fingertips meet your clit.

He doesn't even have to clarify what he means by that because you're making the filthiest mess around his cock for the nth time of that night and he's smiling over you, “Uhuh. Juuus’ like that, pretty.”

A pitched sound leaves you but you manage to find yourself again somewhere within your high, lifting your head and huffing, “S-Say it back,” Before glancing to him and shooting him a glare, accompanied with the same pout he think he fell in love with, “...A-Asshole.”

Toji rolls his eyes profoundly at that but he smiles, “Yeah, yeah, love you too, brat.” Then you feel yourself collapsing into the mattress as he leans all the way down to your ear, presses a haste kiss against your skin, and then whispers, “Can’t wait t’marry you.”

☆ Nanami Kento

It's Valentine's day night and yet there you were still having to beg your husband of many years for something. Moaning, “Ken' please.” While you flash your best pleading eyes and stare up at the man.

Ever the gentleman, Nanami merely smiles at you as if he were confused, “Please, what, my love?"

Your brows twist up and you bat your eyelashes at him, glancing down to watch the way he rudely slaps his heavy cock against your cunt again, “Stop teasin’.”

Your overly handsome husband has the audacity to smile at your sudden command, “Oh? But look at you now," He says in that gentle baritone that makes your cunt clench around nothing, "You’re drooling for me..."

You wanted to say something else, y'know, argue and beg him to just fuck you already but when he lifts his cock away from your pussy entirely, all you can do is let out a pathetic whine. The sound prompts a slight spurt of precum from his tip but just to make things a lil' messier, Nanami brings his free hand up to his mouth and your eyes widen as you watch him.

Now, you've always known that your man was a gentleman during the day and a complete freak at night but god does he never fail to make your breath hitch. You watch him with glossy eyes as he spits a wad of saliva onto his finger tips, bring them down to his cockhead, smears the liquid messily over his tip, faintly moans, and then gently thrusts himself right up against your clit.

With a nasty slip against you, Nanami is left panting. His cheeks are flush with a warm shade of pink and you can feel your entire body heating up more and more by the second as he continues to tease you to tears.

You thought he'd stop there and give you what you wanted but no, the moment you moan out his name, he grows the desire to drag all this teasing out even further. Dragging his cock back against your heat and smearing his pre all over your sloppy folds, Nanami groans.

"My gorgeous girl," He murmurs to you. Though, you're not sure if it was to you or your cunt. You believe it's the later as he takes his unoccupied hand and uses his thumb and index to spread the lips of your pussy open—following this action up with another lift and mean slap of his cock, a slick wet sound entering the air as he does so.

Your back arches up a little at that and it becomes apparent to you for the first time in a while since you'd gotten to this point with your husband that, well, he's got your hands tied up over your head. You couldn't reach down and urge is cock inside you even if you wanted to (despite the bondage being your idea).

So, there you are, legs spread open like some slut-, his slut, panting and huffing at how badly you're aching for him to be inside you. Your cunt tensing around nothing with every heavy thwack of his cock and wad of spit he dribbles down onto the filthy exposure.

It's not until Nanami rolls his dripping tip around your clit in taunting circles that you start genuinely losing your mind. Your hands squirm to move at the sensation and your husband remains almost as composed as ever while watching your face twist up into pleasure. Your lashes are batting and you're releasing a soft string of moans, whispering his name, and lifting your hips in desperation.

To which he simply presses a hand down to your hip and pins you to the bed. Then he stares dead into those loving eyes of yours and starts swatting his cock head left 'n right against your twitching clit. Oh now he's just being mean.

You start pouting and open your mouth to say something, only to be cut off by a clear moan bubbling out your throat as Nanami drags his cock down, fucks himself into his fist against you, and plunges only the tip in and out and in and out of you.

"Ken please," You repeat, "Just put it in."

"I am, aren't I?" Nanami hums with a kind smile on his face.

"All of it," You grunt, trying to lifting your hips again but failing as he shoves you right back down.

Scoffing, "My wife's demanding today, isn't she?"

"You've been doing this for hours," You bite back with a bratty eye roll.

"Oh please, now she's just being dramatic. What do you say, hun?" He redirects to ask your cunt, "Think I just give her what she wants?" His cock rubs right in between your folds and you can feel the veins decorating his length throbbing. "Should I stuff you full already?"

The lack of attention to you (in a way) makes you frown, "Kento—"

"Don't be rude, sweetheart." He cuts off sharply and sternly.

You grumble something under your breath and that earns Nanami's fawn brown eyes back onto your face. It's almost intimidating the way he looks at you, a gentle glare, like he dares you to repeat yourself. Spoiler alert, you don't. If anything, you swallow thickly and wonder what's going on in his mind as to why he's staring at you so hard all of a sudden-

Nanami cuts every thought you were having off with one sharp thrust into your cunt, a nasty squelch echoing into the air along with a hitched breath from his throat. He then slumps down against you, pressing his hard chest against the softness of your own, moving his lips purposefully to the crown of your ear and tugging a bit of your skin in between his teeth.

Your arms jerk against the restrictions fastened around your wrist as the reflex to wrap them around his neck and claw at his back kicks in.

Nanami drags his hips back and the next thrust into you makes you choke out a moan right into the sex-enduced air. Your body was so so hot against his, that's why he liked teasing you so much beforehand. Sure, he could've gotten you this worked up with his voice alone but, where's the fun in that?

And as for his voice that he knows you love so much, Nanami intentionally presses his mouth against your ear and groans your name deeply. You throb so prettily around him that it makes his lips curve into a knowing smile, "I missed you.” He says into your ear.

Nanami's hands find your legs and he grips onto your plush skin firmly with those hardworking palms of his, parting you a bit wider for himself before picking up his pace.

"K-Kento, fuck!" You gasp as he angles precisely into you.

Growling hotly into your skin, “Agh, I know, I know," Nanami coos. He shifts his hips only a little and zones into that same area inside you, feeling your lips quiver around the girth of his cock, "That’s the spot, isn’t it?”

You're a bit too busy losing your mind beneath him, having already reached your orgasm the moment he slid into you and now being fucked into an embarrassing state of overstimulation. 'Guess that's where all that teasing landed you—and you have the nerve to wonder why he does it.

Chuckling at you as if he's not seconds away from stuffing you full of gooey ropes of cum, “So sensitive.” Nanami teases. He then leans up and allows his eyes to fall on your expression. You were a mess, a few tears were slipping down your cheeks, your eyes kept flickering back, and a spot of drool was spilling out the corner of your lips.

“And look at this face,” Nanami's quick to bring attention to it, to which you whine and try turning your head away from him out of embarrassment. He's been down this road with you time and time again so, all he does is bring a hand to your jaw and force you to look at him.

Inching closer to you and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, “You look so beautiful taking all of me like this," He praises, tongue darting out to lap up the few tears you had decorating that pretty face of yours. He was so infatuated with you. "Hear me?" Nanami utters.

You manage a messy fucked-out nod but that's simply not enough for this husband of yours. No, he's a greedy man when it comes to you.

So, Nanami moves his lips over yours and sears his words right into your mouth, "Say it," He tells you, "Tell me how beautiful my wife is."

With a strong gripping clench around his cock at that, you struggle to maintain eye contact with him during this moment of intimacy and the words come fumbling out of your mouth, "Ken..."

"Tell me," He says in a gentler tone, "Please?"

"S-So beautiful," You whimper. You're so embarrassed as you say that out loud to him but, even so, your body is feeling a bit more confident than before. Leading to your legs wrapping around his toned waist and locking him into this position with you—even though you can't verbalize it, you can physically be that confident wife he loves so much.

Which is exactly why Nanami mashes his lips onto yours once you do that and starts fucking you into the bed, groaning, grunting, growling into your mouth as his tongue sloppily meets yours.

After all, what kind of man would he be if he didn't make sure you understood how gorgeous you are on Valentine's day of all days? Which is why the remainder of the night is spent with him asking telling you to compliment yourself.

☆ Gojo Satoru

Oh he’s definitely surprising you with his cock on full display for you. After spending the entire week showering you with gifts and a new surprise each day, how could he not save the best gift for the night of?

“What’s with that look on your face, do you not like your gift?” Your boyfriend, who’s currently sprawled out against the comfort of your shared mattress, asks you as you stand a few feet away simply baffled.

Blinking, you try to gather the display before you as calmly as possible. “Is this why you rushed out the bathroom like that?” You’d asked in return, referring only to a few minutes prior to this as you and your lover had bathed oh-so-romantically together.

Gojo tries his best to flash an indifferent smile, as if he isn’t utterly embarrassed right now.

You’ve got to be the only women he’d ever present himself to like this—matching bathrobe hanging just barely off of his shoulders as he lays across the bed, body dampened with water that glistens under the soft room lighting, cock exposed and throbbing as it typically does when he’s around you, with a tip that’s just as embarrassed and flushed as the rest of his body is, and a bow wrapped firmly around his base.

You hardly know where to place your eyes. He’d been basically courting you all week and loved on you a bit more than normal (which says a lot in itself because this man is just head over heels for you) just for him to end the day with one last surprise for you; himself.

Crossing your arms right under your chest and taking careful steps closer to him, a smile creeps onto your face, “I can get this anytime of the year, how’s this a gift?” You tease before dipping one knee onto the mattress.

Gojo’s rolling his eyes immediately and a pout tugs at his lower lip, “Well… I put a bow on it,” He practically mumbles out to you.

Your boyfriend really had a knack for being so utterly adorable when he wanted to. Which is exactly why you can’t help but proceed to tease him a little. “I can see that ‘Toru,” You hum softly.

And honestly, who are you to refuse a gift like this? Look at the man, he went 'out of his way' just to put a pretty lil' bow on his cock juuust for you!

Obviously you waste no time in enjoying your gift.

It started out with soft banter, a slow removal of your bathrobe, a sensual approach to him on the bed, and a quick position of yourself in between his legs. Although, it didn't take long for you to clasp your teeth onto the ribbon wrapped around him and then give it an eager tug.

By then, Gojo's breath was already heavy. How could it not be? He's got the best girlfriend a man could ever ask for in between his legs and unwrapping his cock with a hungry look in her eyes—of course he's going to have unsteady breathing.

Especially when you look up at his face as you pull the bow loose and allow it to fall out against his bare thighs. Then you're sending him a teasing wink before bringing your lips to the head of his cock. And oh he was leaking the entire time, cum dripping all down the sides of his lengthy cock before your lips fully met him.

Gojo always found himself to be a weak man in the face of you, no matter what he did, and today was no different.

Your freshly manicured nails are the only thing he can focus on to keep himself from cumming on the spot as your hand wraps around his base and you lull your tongue out to meet the crown of his cock.

Giving him one teasing kitten lick, you sigh, "Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are 'Toru?"

You're trying to kill him, clearly. If his face wasn't flushed before, it damn sure is now. This is the only reason why he tries his best to avoid letting you give him head, he always ends up like this—cheeks as red as ever, cock twitching wildly in your hand before he even enters your mouth, and voice coming out with a faint crack as he tries to respond to you.

"N-No," He responds. There's this pitch in his voice that makes your cunt throb. You never knew Gojo Satoru to have a voice crack like that. You hadn't even done anything yet. He's quick to clear his throat though, "I mean, only you've told me that."

Your plumped, lightly saliva-glossed lips wrap around the tip of his cock and his head immediately flies back. Hah, yeah, he's not lasting too long like this. "Do you like it when I tell you how pretty you are?" You whisper softly.

His blue eyes are fixed up on the ceiling now and as you continue to look up at him, you just watch the violent bob of his adam's apple as he gulps. "'Course I do," Gojo tries to say confidently, "I like anything you tell me, sweets."

"Yeah?" You purr. Ah, shit. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. "Can you look at me, Satoru?" You request softly.

Mhm, he's done for. Not able to tell you no or ignore your gentle request, Gojo forces himself to tip his head back into place and look down at you. Cum starts dribbling out from his fat cockhead again but that's not what makes him lose his mind, no.

What really gets him is the way you stick your tongue out and make him watch his lengthy inches slot into your mouth. Saliva spills past your lips and wets up the rest of his length that your mouth doesn't reach, in which you spread around with your hand as you rotate your palm against his shaft.

He can't help the full body reaction that invokes. He almost immediately sits up a bit straighter and moans, "Fuck.. Can you warn me next time before you just—"

His jaw falls slack the moment you pop your mouth off of his cock and start jerking him off with whatever saliva is left lathering his aching length. Snowy white brows twisting up in a mix of pleasure and confusion, Gojo loses his breath as you lean up to his face and meet his lips with a messy kiss.

"Mmgh," He groans against you, moving a shaky hand to your waist as he kisses you back passionately.

When you pry away from him, you grin. "You like anything I tell you, right?"

He nods, "Uhuh..." Gojo's eyes are low on yours and he wonders where exactly you're going with this. He can't think too clearly with the way you're jerking him off but—

You cut his brain off with a sensual whisper near his lips, "What if I told you about how much I like havin' your cock in my mouth?"

He cums. Right then, right there, in your hand, as prematurely as ever. And that, that is exactly why Gojo hates when you give him head. You can't help but look down at the mess your boyfriend's made of himself in your hand. So much came out that it makes you giggle.

And the fact that you've get to stop moving your hand only makes him choke out your name. To which you tune out, too focused on how much cum is still spurting out of his glazed tip. Then you make this face, as if you were satisfied with just that and...

Gojo thinks he falls in love with you all over again. He spent all week catering to you, today especially, and normally he's the one who has you like this by the end of a special night but here he was—pathetically falling for how much you seemed to enjoy seeing him like this.

Seeing him...submissive.

Yeah, but don't worry. This is only a Valentine's day thing. Trust and believe he will be reversing the roles in a moment. Y'know, as soon as you remove your hand from his cock and stop staring at him like you want to devour him whole.

☆ Choso Kamo

“It’s yours Cho’, take it.”

Did you have any idea what you were even asking for sometimes? 

How could you moan out something like that when he’s mid-stoke and expect him to hold back? Of course his hips are gonna start stuttering against you and he’s gonna thrust his thick cock a bit harder than intended as words stumble out his mouth, “H-Huh?” Choso gasps, dumbfoundedly. “But, I wanted to cater to you tonight..” He pouts.

Even while literally being on top of you, gently pressing your legs against your chest, and stuffing you full of his rudely curved cock, he still had a way of being so soft ‘n kind to you. A shade of red decorates his cheeks and the tips of his ears and he’s got that lovestruck look in his eyes as he admires you below him.

Sending him the same smile he fell in love with, “You always cater to me, baby. S’okay, I don’t want you to hold back anymore.” You tell him.

Choso swallows thickly and he halts the movement of his hips for a second, leaving his throbbing cock bulging against the walls of your slobbering pussy. “But, Valentine’s day…” He trails off carefully and his brows meet in confliction, “I should be making love to you—”

Your hands move to cup his cheeks into your palms and you giggle, “You make love to me all year long.” Tugging him down and forcing his eyes to focus solely on your own, “Look at me,” You breathe out, feeling his dick twitch inside you. “Tonight… I want you to fuck me.”

“Princess,” Choso grunts, falling forward a little and motioning to kiss you. Part of him wanted to shut your mouth with his own. If you kept talking to him like that, he was gonna act on desires he’s been suppressing for a long time.

You let him kiss you for a couple of seconds but soon pry your lips away with a wet pop, whispering, “I know you want to,” You point out, earning a mean press of his hips and causing his cockhead to greet your sweet spot with the filthiest french kiss, “Ah… A-And you’ve been such a good boyfriend to me, so—”

Choso tugs his hips back and his expression changes immediately. From soft ‘n loving to something more serious, more feral, “Say that again?” He rasps out.

Your eyelashes meet a couple times in shock at his quick change in demeanor but, you don’t hesitate to hum out to him, “You’ve been a good boyfriend to me.”

His eyes get lower and suddenly his voice is growing huskier, “And the other part? What you said before that.” Choso asks, leaning up slightly and letting your hands leave his face.

“I want you to fuck me,” You repeat, confused as to what exactly this is about to earn you.

The last thing that leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips is a low curse of, “Shit.”

Maybe it was the first thing you said that threw him off, the whole thing about how it’s his and he should just take it, or maybe it was the look in your eyes, or even those last two statements. He’s been a good boyfriend? You want him to fuck you?? Shit, how the hell is he supposed to function properly after hearing that?

Which is exactly why it doesn’t take him long to do as you’ve asked to and fuck you down into the bed in the meanest mating press.

Cock bullying into your soaking cunt, husk groans exiting his throat, and hands all over your body to grab and hold onto any bit of your hot skin he can get to—Choso’s treating your pussy ruder than he ever has before. The nasty squelch that echoes into the air after every thrust, the way you moan his name out sexier than he’s heard you before, and the cute twitch and clench of your cunt around his cock all drive him even crazier.

You find yourself embarrassed by how quickly he makes you cum by acting the way he is and you move your hands to cover your face. Choso’s never felt this way before but the sight of you being too shy to show him your expression while he pounds into you makes him a bit greedier.

“Don’t cover your face,” Choso huffs out, “Lemme see you.” Before you could even move one of your hands away, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and tugs it away from you. You gaze up at him all wide-eyed and lost in pleasure, watching pants leave his lips and the way his hair messily falls over you. Getting a bit rougher with his thrusts and watching your eyes get even wider, “This is how you wanted me, isn’t it?” Choso asks.

You’re quick to shoot your other hand to his chest and your nails claw at his skin as you give him the weakest push, jaw stupidly hanging open with moan after moan sliding out your throat. “C-Choso,” You choke when he makes this specific face—almost as if the sight of you pushing at him for a break made his brain short-circuit.

Pupil dilating and cock pulsing inside you, Choso nibbles on his lower lip for a second to bite back a smile before grunting heavily, “You’re pushin’ me away,” He points out before dropping his weight onto you even more. “S’cute…” Choso huffs thoughtlessly. He’s beyond pussydrunk at this point, and hardly even realizes what’s coming out of his mouth. Groaning, “Ugh, I-I thought you said it was mine? Didn’t you want me to take it like it’s mine?” He sears, “Fuck you like I belong t’ya?”

A whimper flies out of your mouth because he’s only emphasizing his every question with a heavier thrust of his cock, gaze locked onto your own so he can watch the way your eyes roll back in bliss. 

“That’s it,” Choso whispers to you before lifting himself a little, letting go of your wrist, and bringing that calloused hand of his down to the lower half of your tummy. Then he presses his palm down, “Can you feel me right here?”

Slurred together, “M’gonna cum,” Starts pouring from your lips over and over in a faint whiny whisper and your boyfriend simply fucks you right through it.

Smiling, Choso seems to purr his words out, “Yeahh? C’mon then, cum on this cock,” He grunts, speeding up his pace as he feels you gush all around him, “Get it nice ‘nd messy, princess.”

Your eyes are at the back of your skull by that point and your body quakes beneath your boyfriend. You didn’t know his mouth could be so nasty with you—in a verbal sense, anyway. And the way he was staring down at you, soaking up every moan and mewl that left those pretty lips of yours, fuck it made you wonder why you didn’t ask him to do this sooner. 

You’re not sure if he’s ever made you cum that hard before (he has, you’re just a bit too fucked out to remember right now). So, as you come down from your high, he slows himself down, smearing the mix of your cum and the slick that’s been drooling from his tip all against your pulsing walls. Your pants come to a steady halt once you catch your breath and you glance up at him with this dazed look plastered all over your face.

Choso brows furrow and he nuzzles every inch of his cock into you slowly, holding himself back from fucking you into overstimulation, “S-Shit, don’t look at me like that…” He mumbles to you. Aaand just like that he was back to normal, averting his gaze and everything, “Makin’ me nervous..” When his eyes do find yours again, he leans in to engage in an intimate whisper, “Was that too much?”

You fight the urge to use whatever you have left of your stamina to laugh at him. Shaking your head, you palm his cheek again and pull him down to kiss you. Then, you speak in between his lips, “Want you to do it again, Cho’.”

His breath hitches, “O-Oh, you like that?” It takes a second for that to register but when it does, he nods and leans up, confidence returning just like that. “Mh, I’ll keep that in mind for next time. Didn’t think you’d like my mouth to be jus’ as rude as my cock is with you.”

☆ Sukuna Ryomen

“What a stupid Holiday…” Sukuna grumbles out to you not to long after the two of you had arrived home from a rather romantic date. “This is no different than what we normally do," He scoffs, referring to the way you're currently propped up in his lap.

You flash your boyfriend a sly smile and rock your hips back against the bulge that’s poking up against your cunt, “Yeah, but you’re twitching more than normal, ‘Kuna.”

He kisses his teeth and glances away from you dismissively, his grip on your hips tightening. “You have been depriving me of my needs all week,” Sukuna grunts out as you rub over a particularly sensitive part of his cock.

All these stupid layers in between you and him were driving him insane. He had half a mind to toss you into the back seat ‘n rip the flimsy dress you’re wearing right off but after putting him on a sex ban from the last holiday (Christmas) that he did that… he decides to control himself a bit more on this day.

“The buildup will be worth it,” Your voice sounds weirdly sweeter than normal. It’s almost though every syllable that slips off of your tongue makes his entire body react. It was weird. You were weird.

Scoffing again, “I’m sick of this ‘buildup’ nonsense.” Your boyfriend complains to you again.

Your hands trail up along his broad shoulders and you lean closer to him, breasts grazing his beefy chest as you do so, “Sukuna—”

He’s quick to snap his eyes back onto yours due to the closer proximity and there seems to be a faint softening in those typically hard red eyes of his. “Let me at least touch you,” Sukuna murmurs. You swear you notice his face flicker into something almost needy for a split second but perhaps you imagine it. 

Or at least, you thought you imagined it until your boyfriend leans closer to you and slithers one of his arms around your waist—the other slipping down to sneak beneath the fabric of your dress and meet your bare skin. Then, he stares directly at your lips, “...Please?”

You’re taken aback by the word that just left his lips. Sukuna Ryomen, your boyfriend of two years, begging you for something? Perhaps he hit his head sometime earlier. “Did you just beg?” You chuckle out lightheartedly, not exactly taking him seriously.

Sukuna remains indifferent, as if he said nothing out of the ordinary. “I did,” He hums, dropping his gaze down to your body atop his and squeezing your leg a bit, “Lift your hips, angel.”

You blink. Then, you feel his cock practically jump under you as your next word leaves your lips, “Sukuna are you…” 

Even though you trailed off, he was losing it. You hadn’t let him do anything sexual with you in weeks and today of all days was more tortuous than any other. The dress you wore to dinner, the red lipstick stains you pressed into his neck before you’d even went out, your scent—fuck, you smell ten times sweeter than normal. Maybe it’s just because it’s been a while but, either way, the simple utterance of his name for a third time in a row makes his body so utterly anxious for you.

“I am aching to touch you,” Sukuna huffs, a hinted groan lying beneath his words as he shifts his face into the crook of your neck and inhales strongly. Then, his fingernails dig into the skin of your thigh and his voice grows rougher, “Lift your fuckin’ hips.” He demands, pausing for a couple seconds to let his eyes fall to the back of his head in reaction to the throb he feels against his precum smothered cockhead. “…Please?” Sukuna whispers.

And that was all it took for you. You never knew him to beg and although it was extremely foreign to hear the first time, you wouldn't exactly ignore how sexy it sounded leaving his lips.

He always demands and sometimes asks—never forces, of course, but never ever begs… until today, that is. So how can you possibly find it in you to deny him any longer?

Slowly, you begin to raise your hips and at that very second, you look down and notice his own rolling upwards as he adjusts himself in his seat. He may have asked you to lift but he didn’t think much about how that meant he wouldn’t be feeling your warm panty-clad cunt against his bulge anymore.

With a throaty grumble, Sukuna rubs the bridge of his nose against the skin of your neck and he moves one of his hands in between your legs, “...Thank you.”

Everything about your body was so so addictive. The way you gasp lightly as he presses his fingers against your flimsy panties that hug your cunt so snuggly, the slight arch in your spine, and the way your hand meets his wrist at the touch all drive him mad with lust.

Sukuna could feel his heart pulsing in his chest in a way that was unusual. He’d never felt such strong waves of need until now.

The pads of his two thick fingers rub right in between your slick folds against your panties and he smirks, “All that talk about ‘buildup’ and yet you were more anxious for this than me.” He points out, feeling the twitch that follows his words.

He slowly tugs that soaked fabric to the side and as soon as his fingers rub against your cunt bare, you gasp again. Maybe you were needier than you’d let on. Sukuna retracts his hand for only a second and brings it to his mouth, pressing them against his lips and letting your slick rest there for a moment before returning his fingers to your dripping hole.

Then, you just barely watch him lick his lips and grunt at the taste right against your neck. Then he kisses you and positions two of his fingers to your entrance, easing them both in seamlessly while trailing his kisses up to your jawline.

Whispering hotly into your skin, “Look at that, took me all the way in only one thrust.” He breathes, drawing his fingers outward steadily and feeling the clench your pussy tries to hold him with, “S’warm in here,” Sukuna moans a little and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this before.

Dipping his digits right back into you, your boyfriend works your squelching cunt with ease, soon pressing his thumb against your clit and groaning while you moan over him, “Mmgh, I missed playin’ with her like this. She’s so reactive…”

You were losing your mind just as much as he was, eyes frantically traveling over to his car windows and wondering what someone would think if they passed by and saw this. He didn’t have the darkest tint in the world and even though it was nightfall, a person could gather a erotic idea of what was taking place inside the vehicle rather easily. 

A heavy pant falls from your lips, “Hah, w-we should stop, ‘Kuna. What if someone sees—”

“Who cares? I am celebrating my woman on this ‘special’ day,” He tells you, upping the thrust of his fingers ever so slightly as he lifts his head from your neck and looks at you.

He couldn’t get over how much you were soaking his fingers right now, slick trickling down along his skin, decorating his wrist with pretty filth. Oh, you were everything to him—not that he would ever tell you. Instead, he smiles and curls his fingers deep inside you, “Pleasing her special spots, watching her pretty face twist up, cherishing her… loving her.”

Your legs twitch to clamp together at the sound of that. With glossy parted lips, you flash your boyfriend a dumbfounded look, “D-Did you just say you love me?” You utter as the faintest smile of satisfaction tugs at the corner of your mouth.

Sukuna maintains eyes contact with you and shoves his fingers deeper just to watch you lift your hips a bit as if to escape, “In a way, I suppose I did say that, huh?” He laughs a little and his head tilts to the side when he feels your walls throb around his two fingers, more of your slick gushing past your messily parted folds and wetting him up even more.

“Oh, was that to your liking? What if I say it more directly?” He moves to your right ear and says confidently and heavily with that rough voice of his, “I love you.”

Your face falls forward onto his shoulder and you moan messily into him, thighs tensing, and teeth baring just to bite down on him a little as you’re fingered right over the edge. An almost annoyed groan exits your throat and you find yourself frustrated at how embarrassingly quickly you finished.

Now laughing at you, “That’s all it took for you to cum?” Sukuna teases, pulling his fingers out for a second and leaning back to get a glance at it, “Look at this mess you’ve made, ugh.” He hums, parting his fingers and watching the way your release drips all messily along his skin.

“S’your fault,” You puff out against his shoulder.

His smile widens as if he were proud, “My fault? Hm. I suppose I should take responsibility then, yes?”

You lift your head a little and look down to his lap, knowing exactly what he means by that. Then, your gaze raises to his face and you quirk a soft brow before moving one of your hands to adjust his seat.

Sukuna scoffs lightly and leans back against his steadily reclining seat, cocking his head to the side and eyeing you up and down. When your let-back of his seat comes to a stop and there’s enough space for the two of you to move your limbs more freely, your hands find their place on his chest and you trail down. “You wanna.. in here?” You murmur curiously.

“Mhm, smart girl.” Sukuna praises just as your hands meet his waistline. Then, he looks down and nods his chin to your hands, “Now, unzip me.”

☆ Ino Takuma

After spending all day loving and clinging to you more than he normally does, Ino practically forgot to do anything remotely sexual with you. It wasn’t exactly a priority for him on this day. Why would it be? All he wanted to do was see his stunning girlfriend keep that pretty smile on her face all day, sex was the very last thing on his mind.

Though… it becomes rather apparent to him while the two of you are cuddling late that same night. It’s about half an hour past eleven, he’s laying big spoon to you with your back pressed against his chest and your ass flush with his crotch—not that he over-sexualized the position, it was simply cuddling. 

It’s not until the show you guys were making fun of switches to a full on passionate sex scene that his eyes ever so naturally shift from the TV and to you laying against him. One of his arms had been idly wrapped around your waist but not even two minutes into the scene and he started moving it. His fingers begin to splay across your stomach and he rubs his palm over the fabric of your shirt for a bit before deciding experimentally angling his head down into your neck and planting a kiss to the side of it.

Just as he dips down, your entire body reacts and you smile. “Takuma?” You whisper whilst his hand creeps to the end of your oversized t-shirt and then slips beneath it so that he can feel on you skin to skin.

Mumbling and trying his best to keep his smile back, “Hm?”

Your head turns back to him and he lifts his mouth away from your neck to meet eyes with you. “Did that scene get you worked up?”

It’s then that it dawns on you for the millionth time that your boyfriend is really just the most delectable man you could’ve ever laid eyes on. Curious brown gaze gleaming down at you as he sits up a little, soft set grin spreading across his face, and voice leaving his throat as gentle as silk, “Not really,” Ino whispers to you. “I jus’ wanna love on you, baby.”

“Yeah?” Your smile widens and he takes that as his sign to lean in and connect his lips with yours. 

It's a tender moment between you two at first. Soft pecks that both of you chase for as the other pulls away ever so slightly carefully turn into something more heated. Ino’s lips lock onto yours firmly and he pushes against you, his hand rising further up under your shirt before his palm meets your breasts and he gives you a gentle squeeze. 

Groaning into your mouth at the simple contact of your hardening nipple to the center of his hand, Ino can’t help the push of his hips against your own. After that, his touches only grow greedier and greedier. Few words are exchanged between the two of you—only grunts, groans, and breathy moans enter the air for a while as you both melt into one another.

You’ve no idea how much time passes before you end up with two of his skillful fingers working the inner depths of your leaking cunt. His breath is now hot against your ear, “So wet… all I did was kiss you a couple of times,” He chuckles playfully.

A whine leaves your throat and you feel his fingers rub eagerly inside you, “I want more.”

Ino gets a little nervous at the sound of that but, he plays it off as if he were still the one in control of the situation, “Aw, is this not enough for you?” he taunts.

You shake your head and move your hand down over his, guiding his fingers deeper into you.

He starts to get the idea but, instead of fingerfucking you like you so clearly want him to, he tugs his digits out and casually cocks a brow, “Hm. So, what do you want then?”

“You know what I want,” You say, groaning at the loss.

Your boyfriend shrugs innocently and a playful smile dawns across his lips before he looks elsewhere, “Maybe, buuut I wanna hear you ask for it.”

Not hesitating one bit, you lean up closer to him and briefly pull his lower lip into your mouth and suck. Ino’s eyes fall down on your movements and you go from sucking on his lip to kissing him fully, to which he folds. And if that wasn’t enough, when your lips do sever from one another, you whisper, “Can you fuck me, Takuma?”

“Hah, anything for you, beautiful,” He whispers, quickly caught off guard as you turn around to face him full and moving your hands down to his sweats, “O-Oh, we’re eager, are we?”

“Want you inside me,” You grumble, hand sinking past his sweatpants and straight into his boxers to tug his hard cock out. 

Ino had let out one last curse in reaction to your eagerness but he damn sure didn’t deny you of anything. It’s not long before you’re lifting one of your legs and he’s stuffing himself inside you as you both continue laying on your sides facing one another. Your leg hooks onto his hip and he ends up with a mean grip onto the underside of your thigh.

Your legs are all intertwined with one another and Ino’s groaning into your neck while he feeds your greedy cunt his cock over and over again, sucking your skin into his mouth, and leaving all sorts of marks on you.

At some point he lets off a moan and feels your pussy grip onto him even tighter than before in reaction, “Like that?” He whispers, taking your next moan as a response, “Uhuh, I can feel it.”

His voice is so caring and attentive with you, despite the constant stretch of his dick past your folds, slick spilling all out your lips and creating the sloppiest mess of wetness where the two of you are connected. His plump cockhead is giving the depths of your cunt the tenderest smooches, obscure sounds leave both your mouth and your pussy with his every thrust into you. 

Catching your expression particularly lewd, Ino tries to bring your attention back to him and not his cock for a second, inching closer to your face just to talk to you, “Did… ah, did you enjoy your day, baby?” 

Just as he says that to you, you feel his cock glide into that one spot that makes you see stars for a moment. Your jaw falls and you just give him a dumb nod, he’s fucks you so unintentionally good that it makes you lose all trains of thought in only a few minutes—and god when he actually puts in some effort? Now, that’s when you start letting out moans loud enough to earn complaints from your neighbors. 

But for now, Ino doesn’t have to do any of that. You’d been secretly worked up from the moment you woke up to breakfast in bed and now that he’s finally giving you want you’ve been craving, you find your body especially sensitive to his every move and word. 

Ino, as oblivious as ever, simply grins at you, “I enjoyed my day too, mhm.” He hums, eyes all over the way you’re falling apart on his cock right now. His hips snap forward a little harder and the arms you have wrapped around his neck grasp on to him more, nails scratching at his back in reaction—which leaves the prettiest bright red marks he’ll be sure to admire later.

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan at the sudden jerk of his hips and try hiding your face. Ino scoffs before pushing your body over. You fall onto your back and he remains on his side, lazily continuing the sloppy fuck of his cock into you. 

“Don’t go gettin’ all shy on me now,” He says with a kind smile, flicking a hand down to thumb at your clit, “That’s my job, remember?” Your back arches up off the bed and you struggle to look at him, “C’mon, keep those pretty eyes on mine. Mhmm, just like that.” He praises.

A gorgeous string of moans leave you as he pushes one of your legs to get you spread apart even further. Which quickly ends up with him positioning himself on top of you and thrusting into you with more eagerness than before. You’re not sure where his sudden urge to press you down against the mattress comes from but he sure as hell starts beating his leaking cockhead right into that spot he knows drives you crazy.

And as if to contrast the abrupt bullying of his throbbing inches into you, he leans his mouth up and kisses your forehead softly. It was as though his next word was a warning in regards to the way he’s about to treat your cunt, “Love you.” Ino whispers.

Yeah, he only says that during sex when he’s either about to cum—which usually consists of those two words being uttered over and over, but one single claim of loving you always leads to your legs parted nice and wide for him so that he can look down and watch his cock disappear inside you.

Which is honestly one of his favorite sights, especially when you let him cum inside you, then he gets the chance to watch the creamy mess struggle to stay in your cunt. What better gift to the two of you on this day than that?

perm multi tags (1/2):

@cupidstrace @navyllll @grignardsreagent @kingofpiratesiguess @etsuniiru @not-a-glad-gladiator @2kool4skoolll @daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @blubearxy

@wonderfullymickey @iaintblockinnobody @kitassecretgf @iam-souless @nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @withersworld @lilacsforveins @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke

@kvsqkiii @yourlocalcatscammer @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt @riameriash @arminseas2 @palanggaaa

@cherslop @makingtimemine @theodoresvalentine @blcknebula @babblybebe @iluvatsumuuuui @remscreams @cursedkisss @jaibunni @blkkizzat

"Why do you have to say it in that tone of voice?"

"Bucky," Yelena sighs, "she's a cat. Cats like to wander around at night. Get zoomies."

"Yeah, but she's always in her spot when I wake up." Ever since Bucky adopted Alpine, she's claimed the pillow on the right side of the bed as hers. They have their own nightly routine that Bucky has grown used to. But these past few weeks, Alpline has learned to open Bucky's door and has been escaping.

At first, Bucky thought she was just exploring the Watchtower. It's a huge building with lots of perfect hiding places for a small cat. After a week of waking up to an empty pillow, Bucky gives in and starts to check the security cameras. He wants to know what his girl has been up to in the wee hours of the night.

Even though Alpine is a cat, Bucky feels like he's breaking her trust by tracking her on the security cameras, but he's a worried dad. His eyes are glued to the screen, and he starts to switch around to the different cameras around the living quarters. He didn't think it would be this difficult to spot a cat on a security camera, and then he finally spots her. It's footage from last night.

He scoots closer as he watches her slightly pixelated body wander around the corridors before she heads to the kitchen. Where she proceeds to climb on the counters and even hops up on the stove. She manages to open a few cupboards, but when she sees there's no food on the shelves, she moves on. She then knocks over some condiment bottles before jumping down.

Bucky thinks she'll wander to the common space, but instead she heads down a different hallway. There are only two people who live in that hallway: you and John Walker. Why would Alpine be wandering over there? John is a self-proclaimed dog person and hasn't shown any interest in Alpine, though they've had this silent beef ever since Alpine started sitting in John's spot at the kitchen counter.

Bucky leans in a little closer, and then he sees it. Alpine pawing at a door a few down from John's.

Your room.

A second later, the door cracks open and Alpine slips in before it shuts. Bucky's brows furrow as he leans back in his seat and then rewinds it to watch that moment again. Alpine was going into your room, but why?

---

The last few days, Buckys has been watching your every move, and you're aware. You're not sure why he's so interested in you all of a sudden. You and Bucky aren't necessarily close, but you still look up to him.

You can feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of your head, and you've had it with his constant staring.

You're about to call him out on his staring when he speaks first. "Didn't you say you hate cats?"

Your eyes widen in alarm as you turn to face him. "Sorry?"

His eyes narrow slightly, trying to see if he can catch you in a lie. "You heard me."

"Random much?"

"Just tryin' to make some small talk."

You give a slight snort. "You hate small talk. Get to the point, Bucky."

He leans back a bit and crosses his arms. "So?"

You level his stare with one of your own. "I said I was slightly allergic. Again, this is so random."

"Allergic enough that you can't be around them?" he presses.

You sigh. "Obviously not. I mean Alpine lives here."

Your tone doesn't give anything away, and neither does your face. But Bucky isn't going to admit he's been watching security footage and seen that Alpine has been to your room three times this week.

"How are you sleeping?" He changes direction, and you just stare at him like he's grown a third head.

You set your coffee mug down. "What's this really about?"

"Nothing."

Seeing as Bucky is dancing around the question, he really wants to ask you, but you don't see the point in continuing this conversation.

"Well, this has been interesting, but Ava is waiting for me."

With that, you leave Bucky in the kitchen. As you're leaving, you pass by Alpine without acknowledging her. Bucky notices, though. What's even more interesting is that Alpine proceeds to follow you out of the kitchen, causing Bucky to frown.

It's a few days later, and Bucky once again wakes up without Alpine. This time, Bucky confronts you.

He's tracked you down and found you in Mel's office. Her door is wide open, so he doesn't think he's interrupting anything when he hears you two laughing. He marches in, startling both you and Mel. You were in the middle of showing her something on your phone.

Bucky's eyes zero in on you. "I know about you and Alpine."

Mel's eyes widen as she looks between you and Bucky. She sees a slightly amused look on your face.

"What's this about, Bucky?"

He points a finger at you. "You lied about your cat allergy."

You roll your eyes. "Why on earth would I lie about that?"

Alpine," he stresses, "I know she's been going to your room almost every night."

Your amused expression drops in an instant. "You spying on me now?"

"When it involves my child, yes." He sounds so serious, you almost laugh.

"And so what if she's been to my room?"

"Ha! So you admit it."

Mel looks a little lost. "Sorry, what's this about?"

"Alpine has been sneaking out of my room almost every night."

"Okay?" Mel still doesn't see the issue.

Bucky sighs. "And she has been going into her room." He points at you.

"And you're upset?" Mel asks.

"Yes-no... maybe. I just wanna know why Alpine keeps going to your room," Buckys sighs, expression softening, but then he's suddenly giving you an accusing look. "Unless you're sneaking her treats? You know Alpine has a sensitive stomach. You can't be over feed-"

"I'm not, Bucky." You shrug. "She just likes to hang out in there."

Bucky blinks, waiting for you to say more, but you don't. "That's it?"

"Yeah, we hang out. Have girl time."

"Hang out? Have girl time?" Bucky repeats.

"Sorry, I didn't think you'd get so worked up over your cat visiting other people on the team."

"Yeah, but she doesn't visit anyone else," Bucky says.

"How-oh... right, you've been watching the security cameras.

Bucky looks a bit sheepish. "Sorry, I was just worried about her.

"Aw," Mel quietly says.

"I'll stop letting her in my room."

Bucky thinks for a moment before asking. "Why did you start? Thought you were allergic."

"I am," you insist, "oddly enough, I'm not allergic to Alpine. The first time she was pawing at my door, I did turn her away, but she started yowling, and I didn't want her to wake John up."

Bucky nods at your words. "Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

Buck gives a small smile. "Yeah, it's clear Alpine likes you and trusts you enough."

Bucky does have a point. Alpine can be a little standoffish at times, but that just means she needs more time to get comfortable with everyone. She's not a fan of Alexei trying to get her to trust him. While she does like Yelena's bribery with treats, she still keeps her distance most of the time. But for some reason, she likes you and has chosen you to be her second person.

“There was me hoping for a huge walk-in with one of those rainfall things,” you muttered.

“Afraid not. I wouldn't even touch anything if I were you.”

Your expression must have said it all because he followed up awfully quickly, “I just mean, like, the walls, not yourse-”

His low voice petered off, the tips of his ears went pink.

“Well, yeah. Obviously,” you scoffed, filling the awkward silence.

The whole place was gross.

You hadn’t planned on a motel.

It was just a quick job - plant the charges, blow the door.

Instead, half the bunker went up in flames.

The burn on your shoulder said enough.

Bucky had dragged you clear of the fire, complaining the whole way to the motel about you not wearing your suit.

“If I’d been wearing my suit, I’d be peeling melted polyester off my skin right now,” you snapped.

He didn’t say another word.

Not until you got to the motel and found, befitting your terrible luck, one full-size bed. Not even a queen.

You passed him as you headed for the bathroom, and you could swear his eyes flicked to your shoulder, just for a second.

You closed the door firmly behind you.

You were friends. Kind of.

There was no need for this to be so… awkward.

You showered fast, following his advice and keeping your hands to yourself, and in the short time you'd been gone, he'd found the spare blanket and lay it on the floor.

“You can't sleep there,” you said before you were even fully back in the room. “It's disgusting. There's probably roaches.”

He didn’t look up. “I’ve slept on worse.”

You hesitated.

“The bed’s not that big,” you muttered. “Just don’t, like, spread out.”

He eyed the bed, then your shoulder.

“You should take that side. You’ll roll onto it otherwise.”

You arched a brow. “Since when are you the burn expert?”

“Since I carried your crispy ass out of a fire.”

You choked on a laugh. “My crispy ass? That’s what we’re calling it?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at you for a second too long, then said, “get in the bed.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then shut it.

You took the side he pointed to and climbed in first, turning onto your side. He followed a second later, back to you, a careful few inches of air between your bodies.

The silence was too quiet. Too full.

He exhaled slowly. “I didn’t mean don’t touch yourself earlier.”

You sniggered in the dark.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

He didn’t reply.

You lay still, hyper-aware of his presence a few inches behind you. His warmth. The shift of the mattress every time he moved.

Eventually, his breathing evened out.

Yours didn’t.

You didn’t know when you drifted off. Only that when you stirred again, it was still dark - just the faintest sliver of morning pushing at the curtains.

You didn’t move, you kept your breathing steady, even as you felt the bed shift slightly behind you.

His arm reached across you, slowly and carefully, for something on the nightstand. He was trying not to wake you. A soft scrape of something plastic. A quiet lid twisting open.

Then the slow slide of your top strap down your arm.

The cream felt cool. Soothing on your angry skin. His fingers worked it into your skin, gentler than they had any right to be.

He was being careful. Methodical.

But he lingered.

His thumb dragged lightly just below the edge of the injury. Too low to be part of the job. Too light to be innocent.

You kept your eyes closed, imagining his hands moving further down. It was all you could do to keep your breath steady, let alone your hips.

And then, as if you weren't already in pieces, you felt him blow lightly over the burn. Your skin cooled and tingled and you couldn't help the sigh of relief that fell from your mouth.

Even to your own ear, it sounded like a broken moan of pleasure.

You clamped your mouth shut, eyes pinching closed with embarrassment.

His hand froze.

You could feel the way his body went still behind you.

“Don’t do that,” he said, voice low. Strained.

You didn't move. “Do what?”

“Make that sound.”

You could’ve died.

He drew in a slow breath, his fingers still resting lightly on your shoulder.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was.” You paused. “But then you started touching me.”

“I shouldn’t have,” he said softly.

“Shouldn't you?”

You rolled onto your back to look at him, the burn smarting against the rough bedsheets.

“I’ve thought about it,” you admitted quietly.

“Fuck. Me too.”

“So,” you said finally, but trailing off into nothing.

“So if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m gonna kiss you.”

You snorted, “no you're not -”

He dipped down quickly and caught your mouth with his.

You gasped, surprised by his boldness, and felt him go still above you. Before he had time to doubt himself, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to pull him down onto you.

He resisted, just a little, and pulled back.

“Your burn,” he muttered against your mouth.

“‘s fine.” You leaned up to kiss him again, but he twisted away from you.

“Not like this,” he said roughly. Then, after a breath, “c’mere.”

He shifted, rolling to his back, hands guiding your hips as he pulled you with him.

You could feel how hard he was beneath you, the restraint in every movement.

“You sure?” you whispered.

He huffed a laugh, one hand skimming your thigh.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been sure since Berlin.”

You sank into his kiss, half sprawled on top of him, your hands buried in his hair, his mouth hot and hungry against yours.

There was a quiet urgency in the way he kissed you - like he’d been holding back for months and now didn’t know how to stop.

The kiss deepened, his hands everywhere and yet careful to avoid hurting you. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard.

He looked at you, really looked at you. His voice dropped.

“How’s is it?”

“Better than in my head,” you smirked. He rolled his eyes and gestured to your shoulder. “It’s fine. It's nothing.”

His fingers brushed down your arm gently. “I want this to be good for you. Easy.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile widening. “Are you saying I’m lazy?”

“No,” he said, leaning in, his mouth just by your ear. “I’m saying I want you above me. Comfortable.”

He lay back slowly, still watching you.

“Sit on my face.”

It wasn’t a question.

You blinked, heat licking up your neck - and not from the burn. “Bucky, I -”

“You don’t have to move. You don’t have to do anything.” His voice dropped, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Let me make you fall apart.”

“This isn’t exactly how I pictured our first time,” you laughed nervously, trying to reach for another kiss.

“No?” he grinned, pulling out of your reach. “Because I’ve definitely pictured it. Just relax, I've got you.”

His hand trailed down your thigh to the back of your knee, pulling your leg further over him. You shifted, your knees bracketing his hips, and sat up, peeling off your thin cami.

His eyes drank you in, dark and focused, but he didn’t reach for you.

“I could just stay right here,” you teased, rolling your hips against him. “Ohh, fuck -” you sighed. “Please, Bucky.”

His hands skimmed up your thighs, slow and steady. “Then lose the rest for me, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip, wriggling out of your underwear as his grip tightened, guiding you higher up his chest.

You hesitated again, your breath shallow and heart pounding. His eyes were locked on yours - not teasing, just openly wanting.

“I’ve never…” you started, then couldn't finish.

“I know,” he said gently. “That’s why I want you to.”

He didn’t rush you. He just waited with all his quiet intensity focused entirely on you.

You moved up his chest slowly, his hands steady on your thighs, guiding. When you reached him, hovering just above his mouth, he looked up at you like you were something sacred.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered.

He lay back expectantly. “Not even a little. I knew you'd look perfect up there. Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you.”

He hooked his hands around your thighs and pulled you down. You reached out to grip the thin wooden headboard to steady yourself.

As his broad tongue dragged a long, slow stripe through your pussy, your thighs clamped around his head, half in shock, half instinct.

“What if I fucking suffocate you?” You asked, horrified.

He rolled his eyes, and in them, you knew he was grinning into you.

“Do your worst, baby,” he said, muffled against you. His voice sent vibrations through your body, he held you a little tighter.

His tongue worked you open with a pressure that had you throwing your head back. By the time he swept it over your clit, your hands had given up clinging to the headboard for dear life, and were palming your breasts, rolling your nipples between your thumb and index finger.

“God, Bucky -” you rolled your hips, willing yourself to look at him.

He reached one hand up to cover yours, you swapped them so that yours covered his, kneading your soft curves.

He moaned into you, the sound enough to make you grind down against his tongue.

You reached behind and wrapped a hand around his thick cock, weeping and aching. He fucked up into your fist, each thrust in time with the flick of his tongue inside you.

When his lips closed around your swollen clit and sucked, your legs shook and your vision went white, his name tumbling from your mouth.

Your grip on his cock tightened as you writhed against his mouth.

Hot, sticky ropes of cum painted your back, your ass - he came hard in your hand, roaring into your cunt.

“Holy fuck,” you breathed, shifting back on unsteady knees.

He pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, making you tremble again.

Still catching your breath, you lifted your hand - slick with his release - and brought your fingers to your lips. Bucky groaned low in his chest, watching as you licked the taste of him from your skin with deliberate, languid strokes.

“Jesus,” he muttered, eyes blazing.

He surged up suddenly, sitting against the headboard and dragging you down with him, hands firm at your hips. You slid easily down the broad plane of his chest, letting your legs fall to either side of his thighs until you were straddling him again, skin sticking to skin.

His mouth found yours in a messy kiss, all hunger, no restraint - tasting himself on your tongue.

You rocked your hips without thinking, still pulsing around the aftershocks, still needing.

“Bucky…” you breathed against his jaw, your voice raw. “I want more.”

His hand slid up your spine and he blew lightly over the warm skin on your shoulder. “Yeah?”

You nodded, pressing your lips to his cheek. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

He stilled, grip tightening just slightly.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he asked, low in your ear. “Gonna need you to say it again.”

You smiled against his skin, grinding your hips against the hard line of him. “Please. I need you inside me. Want you to fill me up.”

A rough sound left his throat.

“God,” he muttered. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He doesn’t remember collecting them, and he doesn’t remember deciding to keep them.

Only that they’re there, that they’ve been there for a while. An increasing weight against the pocket lining that stretches the delicate seams and weakens the thread.

The fountain sits in the center of the square. Water spills from tier to tier in a steady thrum, catching the yellow glow of the underwater lights, and breaking it into shimmering ribbons.

There are already coins scattered across the stone basin - dull copper, bright silver, wishes glinting at the bottom like small, sunken stars.

A couple leans over the edge, laughing. The woman squeezes her eyes shut before she throws her coin, her lips moving around a silent hope.

There's a child too, a kid of maybe five, who holds her coin aloft ceremoniously before running at the fountain and launching it into the water with a very specific wish.

“I wish for a unicorn!” She bellows.

Bucky smiles at the joy in her voice and then looks down at the coins in his palm.

People throw them to ask for things. Luck. Love. Another chance. It's been the same for thousands of years, he read once before.

He tries to remember the last time he asked for anything at all and comes up empty.

The metal is warm from sitting in his palm. He rolls it across his knuckles, a trick he'd practiced over and over during the war.

He listens to the quiet rush of water, the distant hum of traffic, the faint echo of the little girl's laughter already fading into the night. Around him, the city moves on.

He steps closer to the fountain.

The coin leaves his fingers almost by accident, a small silver arc that catches the light once before it disappears with a soft, hollow plink.

The sound is swallowed quickly, absorbed into the water and the coin joins the pile of other offerings, indistinguishable from the rest.

For a moment, he waits to feel lighter.

Nothing happens.

He tries another coin, more recent currency this time - not an old Lira or Peso - a Euro.

He idly wonders if the value of the coin matches the value of what he's trying to shed.

The coin somersaults in the air, flicked between his index finger and thumb. It makes a bigger splash. The reflections in the water distort and twist in the ripples.

He sees a puddle instead, deep and stained red. At his feet lay Hydra agents.

He blinks the image away and pulls more coins from his pocket, lining them up on the stone.

Each one a memory.

They took them from him once. Now he was offering them up himself.

He flicks the next one in with purpose, a strong pitch with his feet planted and his arm wound back.

A command in a language he still understands too well.

The echo of boots in a corridor that never ended.

Cold metal restraints biting into skin that wasn’t allowed to heal.

The coin clips the cherubic statue and vanishes beneath the surface.

Another follows.

Snow.

A rifle heavy in his hands.

Not his own.

His pocket grows lighter.

He keeps going until the line of coins in front of him shortens, until the small pile in his hand becomes two, then one.

Each splash sounds the same. Each ripple widens, then collides with another, then disappears.

The fountain takes them all.

Copper, silver, meaningless denominations and currencies - they all sink to the bottom.

He waits after the last one drops.

The square is quieter now it's getting darker. The water keeps spilling from the tiers of the fountain.

He slides his hand back into his pocket out of habit.

There aren’t many left. Enough to clink when he shifts his weight.

He laughs quietly. Of course there are more. There are always more. Different years. Different countries. The same night on repeat.

He pulls one more free and studies it in the low streetlight. The edges are worn smooth. It could have passed through a thousand hands before finding his. It could pass through a thousand more.

Memories are like that, he thinks. Circulated and exchanged. Spent and returned.

Some are worth more than they should be.

Some are worth nothing at all, but are still impossible to throw away.

He turns the coin over in his hand.

It's a dime.

This one brings a kitchen into focus - a humid day, the smell of cornbread and shrimp. It doesn’t hurt the way the others do. It doesn’t burn. It warms him.

Not all of them are bad.

He closes his fingers around the coin and slips it back into his pocket.

The fountain doesn’t need all of them. He doesn’t need to give them all away to lighten the load.

She's waiting at the edge of the square, bathed in golden light.

“Twelve Euro for gelato,” she chides, slipping the change into his pocket.

When they walk away, the coins still jingle with every step - a softer sound now. The weight is still there. It probably always will be.

But the seams hold.

You had been waiting for Bucky for at least 2 hours now, he was cornered into an emergency meeting that started around quarter to nine. You looked at the time on the bottom right of your device, 10:58 PM. To pass the time, you opted to just do the work for tomorrow earlier, so in the future, you can thank yourself in that matter.

Being stuck alone in the office with grey carpets that reeked of stress and greed with the fluorescent lights just above your head, flickering every now and then to make sure that you were still awake, and the shadow it gave exposed your face heating with annoyance.

Your hands paused for a brief moment, turning your gaze to the man who stood near the glass door, hand in waist. The other hand was loosening his tie from its tight grasp on his neck then running his hands through his hair. You looked away, you didn’t need to be attracted to him right now, you were annoyed.

But, what the hell. Is it even possible for a human to look even finer under stress? You compared him to diamonds— better under pressure.

For you, it wasn’t fine at all, he had destroyed all your usual habits of cooking dinner, watching your favorite series, and sleeping at exactly the time where you were at the office right now. You couldn’t leave here without ensuring that Bucky’s schedule had all gone out according to plan. One emergency conference, and your night was ruined.

“It’s okay, I was just wrapping up as well.” You managed to plaster a polite smile, you couldn’t exactly admit to your boss that you were kind of infuriated at him. Kind of, because you couldn’t fully get mad at Bucky, your infatuation always seemed to be stronger. Could you really even help it if he looked glorious every single day? Wearing a usual black or navy blue suit and tie, hair slicked back with gel, and a set of blue eyes just always piercing through your soul.

Suddenly, the room ran out of air for you to breathe on, you couldn’t pinpoint whether it was the strong perfume he wore— an oddly lavender aroma with a kick of spice thanks to its amber base. It was sleek, mature, and downright sexy. Or, if it was just his presence. It probably was just him all in all.

“I’m really sorry.” He looked utterly devastated in a manner that made him even hotter than he usually was, you couldn’t afford to stand up just yet and realize that there was a wet patch on your chair. “You can take a sick day tomorrow. I don’t have that much meetings—“

“It’s fine, Mr. Barnes. Really.” You cut him off, you didn’t even care anymore if your annoyance was obvious. You wanted to go home badly and melt down your bed, eyes shut, maybe dream of him when you have calmed down. “I’ll fix my things, then I’ll go.” You added, slowly standing up from your desk and picking up your bag to put your laptop in.

“I told you to just call me Bucky.” He looked at you, taking note of your particular habit of always calling him by his last name.

Well, he did give you the freedom to be casual. Too casual. Casual in a way that you might mistake for a flirty remark— like the one that you’d give a handsome man you’ll see on a bar then never again.

You couldn't call him that for your own personal sanity— and because you were too afraid to reveal anything about schoolgirl hopeless romantic feelings and imaginations straight out of a fanfiction written by people who had the same amount of thirst for the ex-assassin turned U.S. House Representative.

“That would be really unprofessional since you’re my boss.” You gave him a dry, sarcastic chuckle, trying to be humorous, but it came out rude instead due to your sour mood.

“Right, right. Well, people usually call me that. Just sayin’.” Bucky gave you a tight-lipped smile and lowered his head down.

“How are you getting home? You have a car?” He asked, trying to spark a conversation again.

“I just walk. My apartment’s not that far, like a 15-minute walk from here.” You sighed, finished packing up your stuff, ready to go. Your heels clacked on the waxed floor when you picked up your things and went to the direction of the door, where Bucky was, seemingly waiting for you.

Your attention was now focused on tidying up your clothes, fixing your pants as well as patting them free of dust, adjusting the sleeves of your blazers, and pulling up the neckline of the inner blouse you wore. You grew conscious when you realized that Bucky was watching, his jaw unusually tightened. He’d probably reprimand you for wearing clothing that slightly showed the top of your chest, but you didn’t care for that, not right now at least.

“It’s unsafe for you to walk at this time.” He stated the obvious as his eyebrow slightly raised, looking down on you.

You were slightly thankful that the usual pencil skirt you had always worn was in the washer today, or else you’d have a hard time battling off countless catcallers in the street around your area.

You pulled out your phone from one of the pockets in your pants. “I’m just gonna call an uber.” You shrugged, opening the app as Bucky watched your thumbs hovering the device.

“I doubt you’ll find someone who accepts that, they’re all probably snoring by now.” He retaliated.

You only gave a hum in response, too tired to think of a witty retort anymore, your soles were hurting from the inches your shoes had. Your eyes were heavy and you were seriously considering sleeping in this office right now, just slouched in your chair.

“I could give you a ride.”

You immediately looked up from your screen, eyes slightly widened in his offer. Bucky, giving you a ride, in the backseat of his motorcycle? It definitely seemed like a good way to end your life. You thought about it, he’d look insanely mouth watering maneuvering the bike that was as big as him. Your hands wrapped around his waist, feeling his abs and you pressed against Bucky’s back.

You couldn’t, you shook your head in a panicked manner.

“It’s fine, I can wait.“ You gave him a reassured smile. The universe was giving you the opportunity of a lifetime to finally bag Bucky Barnes, but you had no other choice but to reject the notion— you needed this job badly, enough pay to buy you a few guilty pleasures, and the privilege to fawn over your boss everyday.

“And if there are no available drivers nearby?” He questioned you. Bucky’s face was covered in the expression of sarcasm, he certainly thought it was unsafe for a woman to go home this late— and it was his fault, he felt accountable. The least he could do was to safely bring you home.

You, on the other hand, were completely against this. Even if it was in your wildest dreams, it was unprofessional. The scenario to ride with him (or ride him) was straight out of your dirty fantasies, but not under these circumstances where one of you could be put at risk— worst case scenario, the both of you will.

“I’ll just walk then.” You squint your eyes at the tone of sass in his remark, slightly amused. He scoffed at your reaction, not pleased by your response.

“Please,” He ultimately sighed in defeat. “Just accept my offer.” Bucky looked at you with determination swirling his iris.

“I’m sure someone’s gonna accept me.” But you did not budge, not even in the slightest. Maybe just a little, but you were still in the right mind to say no. “Please go ahead, don’t wait for me.” You gave Bucky a comforting grin once more, taking note of the fact that he had a meeting first thing in the morning, he couldn’t afford to be late.

The super soldier stared at you for a moment, his usual thing to do whenever debating something in his head— or when zoning out. His gaze pierced yours, thinking if it’s really okay, or if you were just too annoyed to even face him right now.

But he didn’t like to push people just to get what he wanted (sometimes), he tried to convince himself that you were capable of defending yourself outside, under the light of the moon. Albeit you were a skilled assistant, seemingly efficient in every task that Bucky can throw at you.

Organizing his schedule? Check.

Managing his appointments? Check.

Handle communicating with the press? Excellent.

And being absolutely hard headed right now? You were valedictorian, flying with all the colors in the rainbow.

But he couldn’t exactly say the same for your brilliance in the streets. The two of you weren’t that personally close yet for him to know— although sometimes, he wanted to. He can’t risk the life of his precious assistant, or his work will be very disastrous and chaotic, that’s all there really is to.

“Fine,” He raised his hands up, seemingly signifying that he surrenders. “I’ll go.”

You only gave him a grin in response, you weren’t even sure yourself if you’d be able to get an uber— but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your boss when you'd decide to just sleep in his office instead. Meanwhile, Bucky only gave you a look of suspicion before walking to his desk, which was adjacent to yours, picking up his bag and a few paperworks in his arm, his footsteps led him to the door again, where you were.

“I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Barnes.” You politely greeted him goodbye; like you always would on any other day, the only difference this time was that it was nearing midnight— and the two of you were the only ones left in this building.

Bucky muttered something underneath his breath, you didn’t catch it, it was more of a grumble rather than a word that’s actually coherent. He gave you his usual, charming smile, before opening the door and closing it behind his back— footsteps getting fainter by the second.

It had been over an hour since you uttered that phrase to your boss, a literal hour of hoping someone would accept you.

You groaned in frustration, standing from Bucky’s comfortable swivel office chair, then sitting back down again in hopelessness. You were beginning to think that you should have just accepted his offer, not chicken out like you always did.

But no, you were left alone to deal with the consequences of your stupid decisions.

You were left with no other choice but to walk home, maybe ride in a cab if you’ll have the chance to find one. But it was almost midnight, you didn’t like to get your hopes up anymore. It felt foolish to even have a sliver of faith that you were going to get sleep tonight. You sighed, stood up from the seat, meticulously arranged Bucky’s desk before you left, and picked up your things that were sprawled in your own desk, after you had just organized them a few moments ago.

Closing the glass door on your way out, you prepared yourself for whatever obstacle there may be outside the streets, you hoped there were none— although that’s statistically impossible, you assumed. Your shoes hitting the ground was the only noise that echoed throughout the floor, your eyes darting from left and right to observe the closed lights, except for the one by the elevator.

It was eerily quiet, but you had that coming, leaving the office a few minutes after the clock hit midnight. You really didn’t have a choice— a curtain congressman with a vibranium arm left you with this predicament, then you made yourself suffer more. It was an unfortunate situation, but you’d accept any mode of transportation now, as long as you still have time to rest to prepare for tomorrow— which was actually just a few hours later.

You walked to the nearest elevator, which was fortunately just a slight left to where Bucky’s office was. Letting out a small yawn, you reached for the down button beside it, pressing it gently. Your mind started to wonder about him, like clockwork.

It was hard to not like him— Bucky was the perfect guy you could bring home to meet your parents because of his gentlemanly nature. But the contrast of that to his physical attributes always made you wonder… if he were also a gentleman in other places.

It wasn’t even just that, or the fact that he’s a decorated veteran— his upstanding morals made him even hotter.

The world had been familiar with the controversy of him in politics, his past, and if he was even worthy of being one. But come on now, Bucky’s probably more qualified than half of the people in the government right now— his virtues and principles alone.

His thought process on hiring you was even more baffling, you didn’t go on any interviews or even met him before you got hired for the job. You simply sent a resume, a short message explaining your interest to take the position, and sent it to his email— which you weren’t even sure was his. You found it through a shady hiring website in the last page.

It didn’t even have any information about the tasks you would need to do, the qualifications and requirements needed, or what you would be exactly assisting for. A few hours after you sent your application, he had replied; a short message expressing that you are hired, with the address of his office at the bottom of the email. Sent at 3:07 AM.

He really needed an assistant.

The first thing you had asked Bucky when you went to his office— which was coincidentally in Washington, DC as well, the House of Representatives, to be exact. The question that slipped from your tongue was— what was exactly your basis in hiring me?

“You were the only one who actually sent a resume— not a weird picture or a love letter.” He replied, curtly.

Since then, you practically took every interaction like he was head over heels for you as well. The brushing of fingers whenever you’d hand out a document, or when you would catch him looking at you through your peripheral vision in your desk. And the offer he made a while ago, to give you a ride in his motorcycle. This was bad, you needed to have an actual social life before you get fully delusional over your boss, as if you weren’t already.

You shook your head violently as the doors to the elevator opened with a ding, you entered the oddly spacious machine with utmost caution. Your left finger pressed the button that will lead you to the basement. The lobby was closed now, you could be actually stuck there the whole night.

“I need coffee.” You thought to yourself, before the elevator opened its doors to welcome you in the dark basement parking of the building. Even though it was dimly lit, you could still clearly see the rusty exit door. It was on the opposite end of the elevator, a bit far because of the massive size of the parking lots, which looked odd when it wasn’t full of vehicles in different sizes and colors.

You gripped your bag tighter, and started walking in a frigid manner away from the elevator, which quickly closed when it felt your presence leave its space. There was an aura of discomfort in the fact that you were the only person here left, in this creepy place— where no one could probably hear if you let out a scream. It was probably from the true crime shows you had been binge watching for you to grow paranoid.

The moment you’ll get out of this building, was the last moment of this happening ever again. You should’ve never waited for him, but it was your responsibility. Your pace started to grow quicker, heels getting louder by how fast you were walking. The last thing you needed was a serial killer suddenly running around all loose.

“I take it that you’re walking home.”

“Fuck!”

Your body jumped in surprise, mostly fear. Because you thought you were going to get killed— worse sliced alive or shot by someone who craved vengeance. You felt a presence looming beside you, as Bucky Barnes came out in the shadow, arms crossed, eyes immediately met yours. His usual suit and tie was replaced with a leather jacket now, which also did not help in the fact that he goes to the gym everyday, absolutely ripped inside. You tried your best not to imagine what’s under, tried.

“Why are you still here?” You exclaimed, a dread of annoyance coated every syllable of your question as you turned to him. If you were frustrated at him then, you were infuriated now. Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, walking towards you.

“Wanted to see how long you’d take up on my offer.” He gave you a teasing grin. “I was about to leave, but I heard the elevator.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his statement, probably his enhanced senses working their magic again, you didn’t question it.

“You waited for me?” Your eyes slightly softened, as you let out a breath of relief from the scare he unintentionally made a few seconds ago.

“It’s my fault you’re here at this hour.” Bucky was only a few inches away from you, the conversation echoing loud in the basement where only the two of you could hear.

“I told you, it’s fine.” You sighed. “Plus, you can’t scare people around like that! Lurking in the shadows like a madman.” Your hand went to your chest, signifying that Bucky scared the shit out of you. He gave a small chuckle in return, he definitely did not feel guilty— he was more amused.

“Let me take you home.” He said, casually. Like it was a normal occurrence for bosses and their assistants to drop them down at their apartments, maybe give them a kiss goodnight if the mood was right. He walked away again, but looked back, urging you to follow his direction. And you did, with hesitation that also dripped in nervousness. As you come into eye contact with his Harley Davidson.

You thought about it. There was no uber accepting your ride— it was a death sentence to hail a cab at this hour, and your eyes were far too tired to even walk now. Your only option was either crawl all the way home, or accept his offer.

Giving out a small sigh of defeat, you gave in.

“Just this once.” You let out a small gulp, hands consciously fixing the attire you wore again. Bucky smiled at you, in a rather boyish manner— you hadn’t seen it before, it was laidback and all the synonyms for cool. You wished he expressed that side more often, just out of working hours, you supposed.

Bucky was also tired, it was quite obvious. You noticed the way his vibranium arm dragged the way he walked and the small heaves of sigh he made. But something felt different about him, curiosity started to get the best of you. Despite the calm way of his hands patting where you’d sit on his black-on-black motorcycle, the coolness of his voice, his eyes looked like they were fighting with himself.

Like he was waiting for a trigger to break free from his spell, reliant on one single word that could make him think or take an action freely. You bit your lip unknowingly, affected by the sight of him.

“Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Bucky looked at you, eyes blinking in confusion when he realized you were dazed out when he had asked which street you live in— all he knew was that you were from around here.

“Yeah, you scared me. I thought you were a serial killer.” You scoffed at his remark, crossing your arms in a defensive manner.

You immediately realized what you had just said, covering your mouth quickly. Bucky only raised his eyebrow at you, as his vibranium arm rested on the motorcycle seat, the other flesh on his waist. His eyes had a glint of mischief around them, looking you up and down as he gave out a dry chuckle.

Your cheeks immediately heated up in embarrassment. “I mean, I thought I was alone. Thinking that nobody could—“

“Hear you scream?” He tilted his head sideways, giving you a teasing grin. You nodded in return, somehow, you didn’t know what to say next. Besides the growing tension between you and Bucky as your legs tightened on instinct when he grew closer.

He stopped just when your bodies are only centimeters from touching, one small move and you’d immediately feel his chest.

“Wanna test it?” He added, in a voice lower than it usually was, drawing out every word for you to thoroughly comprehend. Your mouth opened slightly, you couldn’t tell whether a moan or a reply wanted to come out. But you were left speechless, the familiar sensation between your legs tingling once more.

“What— What do you mean?” Those were the only coherent words that managed to come out of your mouth.

“You know what I mean.” Bucky replied, almost immediately.

Bucky was playing a dangerous game, and you were scared to even gamble. You couldn’t risk losing your job— or him being heavily criticized by the public for being with his assistant. Too many factors that were all needed to be considered, but your self-control was running low, tempted by his offer.

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Barnes.” You whispered, voice even shaking in nervousness. You clutched your bag hard, knuckles almost turning white.

“There ‘ya go again, with that unprofessional shit.” He gave you a response filled with sarcasm, you would think it’s venomous.

“Like I don’t smell your arousal every single time we’re in that office together.” Your eyes widened once more at his sudden confession, you were embarrassed to the brim. He could smell that? His jaw was tightened, like it was back at his office when you were fixing your blouse haphazardly.

The tables were turned as the attention of the night was now on Bucky Barnes’ admission. He immediately sighed, like he did not mean to let the words slip from his tongue. But he had grown increasingly tired of his pretty little assistant being a tease every single day, even if you meant to be one or not. It affected him far worse than the way it took a toll on you— he was just more skilled at hiding it.

But today was his last straw, Bucky’s last defense of self-control was immediately shattered when you walked in the office in the morning. Opening the door with such confidence, immediately handing out to him his planned schedule for the day like you always did, in a methodical manner. He liked that about you, precision and keen attention to detail.

Bucky let out a small groan when you leaned down to explain his itinerary, who he will be meeting, what he needed to say in front of the press, and always asking him which food he wants for lunch, so you could buy it. He usually says nothing— it was weird, having you buy lunch for him, how ungentlemanly if it was normal even.

Your perfume was the only thing that filled his sense of smell, eyes gazing at the delectable view in front of him— the off-white blouse that you wore revealed a little too much of your cleavage that when your hands were rested in his table, body just inches away from him at the seat. His eyes savored in the top of your breasts peeking out, and you were blissfully unaware of such things, still ranting on something he couldn’t even comprehend now.

He tried to think of anything else, he turned his gaze to your face— which only made things worse. Your eyes focused on the second event of the morning, the hearing of Valentina Allegra De Fontaine and her organization. But fuck her and fuck everyone but you, he couldn’t care about anything right now. Your eyes were slightly furrowed in a manner that made you adorably tempting, and lips painted with a tinge of redness and shine from lip gloss.

All Bucky could think about was standing up, putting his hands against both sides of your waist, and removing the black pants you adorned. He thought about making the table shake violently that all his paperwork would be on the floor. Hips thrusting against your ass while balls deep inside your pretty pussy.

In the shitty dimmed light of the basement floor, a thick air of silence filled the space between the two of you. Your head was starting to get dizzy due to nervousness, you wanted to fight back. God knows how much you’ve spent the nights imagining him working you up like what he’s doing right now— but now that it was actually happening? You were scared. Terrified of the consequences that might happen after this.

“Sir Barnes—“

“Don’t call me that.” He cut you off quickly.

“I apologize for letting my feelings get in the way.” You muttered a shaky apology under your breath, looking down on the ground in shame and embarrassment when you realized you were not being sleek with your infatuation— Bucky had known along. And you should have known as well, he wasn’t exactly just a congressman, hundreds of notable things he had done were under his belt. Of course, he would’ve sensed your ogling from a mile away.

“Sweetheart, I get hard every time you call me Mr. fucking Barnes. The last thing you need to do is apologize.” He chuckled sarcastically, putting his vibranium arm against your waist. “I’ll stop if you say so— but don’t pretend like you’re not wanting this.” He added, putting his fleshed index finger to your chin, and pulled you closer to his body.

That action rendered you speechless— but you couldn’t even really think of anything to begin with, just him, his hair, his hands, everything that he ever was. His hands swayed dangerously lower, moving to your back and right above your tailbone, like he had to stop himself from grabbing your ass.

If the nonexistent space between the two of you wasn’t enough, Bucky persisted and pushed your hips to make you feel the clothed hardness that had formed in his pants. Your breath hitched, trying your best to stifle the moan that was threatening to roll out of your tongue when he grinded just enough for your clit to feel, despite the layers of fabric against it.

“This is dangerous, sir.” You managed to garner a reply. “You could lose your job— or mine, even both if this ends up in the headlines.” Your hands creeped up his chest, a last offer of defense, that’s what you convinced yourself.

“I’ll make sure nothing comes out.” He gave you a look of reassurance, and you swooned right into it. You knew you were in capable hands, a highly capable man that is as intelligent as he is hot. Bucky kept promises, never letting a word fall under his grasp. He could be trusted with it, and it was not making your case any easier.

“But you’ll have to fire me, this is against the code of conduct.”

“Keep being this uptight, baby. You’re gonna make me cum in seconds.” He let out an almost pained groan in response, hands still not leaving your hips as the other went their way from your chin to caress your cheeks. Fingers just softly rubbing against, as if he was scared to break you.

Bucky looked at you fervently, his eyes were desperate to meet yours, eyebrows slightly furrowing in anticipation of your words. He would’ve been fine with anything, you could say no— he would gladly pretend to forget that any of this has ever happened, even give you a raise for the inconvenience.

Or you could bite back, just give in. One nod, a hushed word of approval, any form of recognition that you wanted this too, and he’ll be the one to take care of the rest. Nevermind the bigger problem he had in between his legs, he was a gentleman— but only the heavens knew how much he had been controlling himself for the past eight hours or so. He couldn’t care to count the minutes anymore.

One word, just one.

He had been through hell and back his whole life, for a whole century even. He had repented his actions— mistakes and failures that he did not even do, but he still made up for it, for everything. But all Bucky had ever wanted right now, what he pleaded to the gods, was to be given a chance to savor a taste of your lips.

“You’re making this harder for me.” You gave out a small chuckle, the bag on your shoulder was suddenly a lot heavier than it was. You couldn’t pinpoint if it was excitement or nervousness in your veins, maybe both— you couldn’t think ahead anymore.

So fuck it, right?

You let out an inhale of courage in the form of air as your lips went straight crashing with his— in an impatient manner that even made Bucky’s knees slightly weak at the collision. He let out a whine of satisfaction when you pressed in deeper to the kiss, mouth slightly opening more when his tongue licked your lips— a beg to let him do more.

Now both of Bucky’s hands were on your waist when he gripped it harder, and pulled your back against the motorcycle, slightly wincing at the contact of cold metal. Your left arm rested on the cushion of the seat as your right fingers dangled in the strands of his hair, never once did you let the kiss separate. Not even for a brief moment, even if you needed to gasp for air.

Because you weren’t going to deny this moment when Bucky’s tongue was working wonders to explore every inch of your mouth, fingers that were once on your waist were now working their way up to your stomach, mere inches away from your breasts. He separated from your lips and locked eyes with you once more.

“Can I?” He asked for permission. “Please, baby.” Bucky added, and you weren’t sure to which part of your body he was pleading to, but you nodded hazily— you couldn’t wait any more longer. But you quickly realized what he meant to do when he started to remove the bag that was decorated on your arm and safely hung it on the windshield of his bike, you wondered if its strength could hold on the files that were in your bag.

The lust-ridden congressman then slowly took off the blazers that you perfectly wore, his hands worked their way on your shoulders. His eyes were shifting from your orbs to your chest— you gave him a small smile of amusement.

“You gonna wait ‘til sunrise just to get me off of my shirt, sir?” Your eyes crinkled playfully. On the other hand, your boss was not amused. He wanted— no, needed to ravish you already. He couldn’t wait as well.

So, in the poor ventilation of the basement, only the echoes of your moans were heard, and its light reflected the absolute want in your face, to which Bucky only had the privilege to drink in the view. You were a goddess to his eyes, and he was nothing but a measly worshipper.

“Great idea. Let’s fuck here until sunset.”

He gave you a coy smile, before his lips met contact with your neck, prompting little pecks of kisses as he went lower while simultaneously undoing the buttons of the blouse that had made his already struggling morning even worse. He looked up, lips still adorned to your collarbone with furrowed eyebrows, hair slightly covering the sides of his face, and the look of utter desperation.

You shuddered, what a sight to behold. You tried to etch this memory onto your mind before you could even forget the next second.

The soldier only finished half of the buttons before spreading apart the blouse to reveal the lace bra you wore underneath.

“Just for me?” He gave you a boyish smirk, fingers rubbing your nipples against the cloth as you let out a breath of his name like an earnest prayer. In return, your hands rested on his shoulders for support, left leg slightly hiking up to grind against his. You were desperate for friction, to the point of being pathetic, but you did not care.

“Maybe.”

“I’m gonna need a better answer than that, sweetheart.”

In a dazed manner, you recaptured Bucky’s lips, a little too rough and impatient, even for your own liking. You felt his touch caress the skin of your back, and in a smooth manner, he unclasped your bra easily. A shot of jealousy went down your throat, wondering how many bras he had removed just for him to undo yours with utmost ease. But they weren’t the one in your position right now, at least not anymore.

Your boss did not even bother to fully remove the articles of clothing, he just pulled the blouse down at your waist, and put your upper undergarment to hang beside your bag, careful not to let it fall down the ground. His darkened eyes reveled in the sight your bare chest, mouth agape, and you could feel the way his cock twitched between your legs.

“Fuck, you’re divine.” He let out a breathless moan, immediately cupping your left boob with his vibranium laced fingers, index fingers rubbing your nipples when his tongue lapped on the other, making sure it wasn’t left out. “God, you don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this.” He muttered in between breaths.

“Bucky,” You gave out a whine, knees slightly trembling and nails gripping for support in the sturdy bike pressed against your back as he lazily gave a long lick on your right nipple before rubbing it once more. The long nights if fantasizing about fucking your boss were now starting to become reality when his hands snaked their way to caress your thigh that was wrapped against his hips.

“More, I want more.” You confessed, in a soft whisper, afraid that everything would end in a second should your voice be higher than a decibel.

You gazed upon his face, wrecked with nothing but the need to be further, to know your skin more— to unravel your body completely. Bucky quickly obliged, like the good man he was, he couldn’t restrict you from your needs when he was also under the same predicament of losing control.

He only gave you a smirk, before dropping dead to his knees in the cemented and uneven floor of the basement, with white marking lines decorating where he knelt. His black pants were starting to look the color of ash, but he did not seem to mind, not at all. How could he? You were the only thing to ever cross his mind at this very moment. His eyes dead set on yours, still with the same lust adorned dust hovering, but with intensity a depth lower.

Your heart skipped two or three beats in recognition.

“My pretty assistant wants more?” Bucky’s fingers were on a mission, he did not waste time to remove the button in your pants, revealing a matching set of underwear as your bra. You couldn’t quite figure out if this was your lucky day or his, either way, you thanked the laundry gods that your clothes managed to dry on time.

“I’ll give you more.” He added, voice deeper than it usually was. He started to unravel what was beneath the last piece of clothing you had, and the black trousers you once wore were pooled down your feet, to where he was— in full devotion and worship.

“Oh, matching sets. Did you plan all these, baby? Get me to lose control so I can fuck you on my motorcycle?” He taunted, snapping the waistband of your panties.

“Coincidence.” You feigned innocence, terribly. Like Bucky wasn’t smirking in front of your clothed, sopping cunt. He was caressing your thighs, dangerously going higher, as if to test you. “But if you like it that much, I’ll let you live on your little fantasy.”

“Coincidence, huh?” He tilted his head, eyebrows slightly raised at your sarcastic comment. Bucky slightly spread your legs apart, hiking up your left thigh to his shoulders, to which you immediately shuddered in excitement when he brushed against your clit. The counter of your black heels drilled against his back, he didn’t seem to mind.

“You’re soaking for me, sweetheart. Is that a coincidence too?” The congressman did not even give you time to reply nor react when he strided a long, slow lick to your pussy, never breaking eye contact with you. He sure did love to stare— a little too much sometimes. But you were unphased, turned on was more of an accurate term. You moaned, embarrassingly loud for it to echo the white walls of the basement.

“Fuck,” You exclaimed, lost in the pleasure when he rubbed your clit with his cold fingers. The warm ones were pushing aside your panties like it had a personal vendetta against him, not even bothering to remove them as he stuffed your entrance with his long and thick digits.

“I’m getting there.” He sarcastically responded, growing closer between your legs because his fingers weren’t enough, he needed to taste you as well. Starved was an understatement— how could he have gone on decades of famine and not having the luxury of eating you out? He sucked hard, tongue memorizing the feast bestowed upon him, lapping on your wetness with an unquenchable thirst.

In response, you let out a dragged and broken moan. “Bucky,” You muttered his name like a perfectly tuned melody, he grunted in response.

Congressman James Bucky Barnes on his knees, eating out his young assistant in the parking lot of the House of Representatives. It would be an eye-catching headline to see on the news articles, TikTok for you pages, and newspaper stands.

Your boss added one more finger, and quickened the pace— the rubbing of your clit, fingers in and out, and his fucking skilled tongue circling around it all.

If you weren’t too deep in pleasure, lost in ecstasy you were sure no drug was going to compare to the feeling of high. Then, you would have noticed him spelling his own name with it— like a cast of spell to guard what was his.

You were done for, and you did not even mind.

“So fucking sweet. I—I need you so bad, shiiit.”

You were also certain that Bucky was done for, he groaned when your legs started to shake lightly, pre-cum decorated his tip that leaked from his pants as the consequence of punishing himself by not stuffing you full of his dick earlier.

“I’m gonna…” With eyes closed and lower lip bitten, you couldn’t even finish your words without making lewd noises of satisfaction because of the soldier’s relentless pace.

You felt like exploding, in the best way possible. Just a tinge closer to coming undone, you were already in the route going there.

“That’s right.” His mouth was agape when he looked up, seeing you in the same level of need that he was in. “Be a good girl and come on my tongue, baby.”

That’s all it took for you to release on his fingers, tongue, and everywhere that he was— even spilling enough that it coated his salt and pepper stubble. His lips were glossed all over with your liquids. You looked away in embarrassment. But he looked like it was the most delicious meal he’d ever eaten in a hundred years. He slowly removed his digits that were once inside you. Agonizingly slow.

Blue eyes blown away and the sides of his mouth twitched to what seemed like a smile— or just a smirk. You thought it was done, that it’s goodbye now. And he’d be dropping you off your apartment for real this time.

In a rush, you pulled the blouse that was scrunched on your waist to wear it properly again trying to button up what you could button in this drunken state of mind, even forgetting about the bra that hung in front of Bucky’s bike.

But he did not budge there, just watched you with keen eyes as his grip firm on the side of your hiked up thigh, liking the way your heels felt against his back. He was full on smirking, amused by your actions— his flustered assistant that was once calling out his name in the dirtiest way possible. You tried to lean down to take your pair of pants when Bucky stopped your arms.

He wasn’t just going to let you go that easily.

“Nah, we ain’t fucking done, sweetheart.”

Your eyes unknowingly went down to the bulging view in his pants, his cock was rock hard— no amount of jerking off to interactions with you could suffice it, not when he already had the taste of it. Bucky stood up and faced you, eyes pleased at the sight of you in nothing but your off-white blouse and black heels.

He did not even care what time it was right now, how many hours left before a day filled with endless— pointless meetings will start. He needed to be balls deep inside of you.

“Sit in front.”

He gestured to the seat of his big, black bike, where you were leaning against, in the receiving end of his lust. You looked at him, confusion brimming your face to its highest setting. You weren’t even wearing any pants yet, and now he wants to leave? After he gave you quite possibly the best orgasm you ever had in your entire life.

“What?”

You looked at him like he was a madman. He probably was, you thought that you were too. Was this just the dizziness that stemmed from fatigue because you needed sleep, or was he actually commanding you to sit in the front seat of his motorcycle? He grew closer, you thought it was even impossible for him to be, both of his thumbs ran circles on the sides of your waist.

He squinted and tilted his head playfully— seductively, even.

“Thought you needed a ride?”

Oh.

And fuck, that got you worked up all over again.

You wasted no time, turned to the side and carefully went up his motorcycle as the congressman’s hands were on your back for support— albeit lower than it should have been. Your heels trembled to climb in the foot rest as your right leg separated to get on the other side, you quickly held onto the throttle for a sense of stability.

You could feel your wetness stain against the leather of the seat, in a desperate effort to feel his warmth again, you grinded slowly, mouth opening up to release a soft noise.

“Couldn’t wait for my cock, baby?” He gave a low chuckle, the one that vibrated off his chest in amusement. He followed, and in a swift motion, he hopped to sit close behind you, close enough to feel him practically radiating your back.

“Need you so bad, Bucky.” You turned your head back to him, where he was fumbling to take his dick out of the confinement of his pants. He frantically pulled down the zipper, and slightly pushed down the clothing to reveal the v-line of his lower abdomen, and slowly took out the tip just for you to see how red and hard it had been from eating you out.

“I need you just as bad, sweetheart.” He let out a small groan, pulling it out altogether, pumping up and down using his vibranium digits to relieve the pain he accumulated from months of holding back, pre-cum leaking as he swirled it all around the tip. The other arm was on the very end of the motorcycle seat, so he could have support. Bucky’s eyes were half-lidded, face contorted in pleasure.

You swore you moaned at the sight.

“Are you gonna help me out?” He had a smug grin on his face when he finally opened his eyes fully to see you watching the scene unfold.

“God, yes.”

Bucky grabbed you by the waist and pulled your hips closer to his, you could feel his length twitch against your back as he carefully pushed your stomach down lower, urging you to keep your hands on the throttle as he arched your back in the seat. His hands were on your ass now, drawing near to your glistening cunt.

“You want me this much, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up?” He muttered, breathing near your ear as you can only let out a weak whine in response, softly nodding. From the position alone, you were sure you could cum by then. Not only did you get the chance to be railed by the hottest member of the representative, he was going to rail you completely on his motorcycle. Like it was straight out of a porno, you never realized he had this kink— and you were starting to think that you had it too.

He teased the tip of his aching cock to your wet folds, he didn’t do anything yet, just rubbing it in between, using your wetness as a form of lube— you reckoned it was enough for him to easily push it in, but he wasn’t going to do that just yet. He wanted to savor the moment. You in front of his bike, ass hiked up and pussy just devastatingly ready to swallow him whole.

“Fuck.” He let out a sigh, tucking his strands back that stuck to his forehead from the sweat— because the parking lot had shitty ventilation, like all of them do. “I was so fucking close to bending you over my desk. But this— this is so much better.” He winked at you through the side-view mirror.

“Oh my god, Barnes. Just put it in.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He drew a low chuckle.

Like you had been waiting for an eternity for this to happen— your grandeur visions of delusion finally crawling out from the grave and coming to life to give you a kiss on the cheek and say that it wasn’t actually just your imagination— that Bucky felt the same way as you did about him.

You slightly raised your hips to take him in, wetness dripped down from the seat as he slowly pushed his cock inside. It was hurting— he was too big, too thick, but you took pleasure from the pain. Too eager to take him in, to be deep inside you. Reaching places where your fingers could not comprehend to even go. Meanwhile, the congressman’s eyes were focused on you from the mirror, groaning at how easy he slipped in, and how perfectly his cock fit— like a glove.

“So fucking— tight for me.” Bucky caressed your back, he noticed you struggled from the pain evident in your face as he paused for a brief moment. Waiting for your signal to move. “You’re taking me in so well. So good.”

“Bucky,” You breathed out his name like it was the only word you ever knew. Glancing at him as you slowly grind your hips in a circular motion to test it out. Testing out the ride that you needed to go home. And there, you started to bounce like your life depended on it, taking him in— inch by fucking inch.

You were riding Bucky’s dick on his motorcycle, a line straight out of the fantasies you once touched yourself to.

The sergeant— who was too preoccupied at watching you grind up and down, mouth agape at how his cock glistened by your wetness,

disappearing completely when you went down. His hands travelled to your stomach as he pushed your back against his chest, ripping off the buttons of your blouse to cup your breasts— caressing your nipples along the way.

“Look at you, like a fucking slut on my dick.” Just when you thought it could not get more pleasurable, his digits went to rub your clit in a fast-paced manner, your legs trembling in absolute pleasure.

“Fuck, oh.” You were too lost, drowning in the feel of Bucky’s length as he thrusted upward when you pushed down— the action hitting your g-spot, straight to the core, you swore you felt him through your stomach. “Bucky, oh my god.”

Bucky was close to cumming— embarrassingly close. But you were too good, too sweet for him, and pussy taking him in so well he was sure that it was made for him, just him. He gave out a guttural groan, squeezing your breast as he thrusted even faster, matching the timing of your hips. The motorcycle shaked, struggling to keep up with the momentum.

He did not care anymore whether or not this violates whatever rules there was— the code of conduct. All he needed right now was your pussy.

“B—Bucky, please come inside me.”

Who was he to deny your request?

“Shit.” He whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. He quickened his pace, arched your back once more so Bucky could see how it’ll look like to shoot his load inside yours, how his cum will drip down your pussy. You grew conscious of his view and he was smart enough to realize.

“Yeah, baby. I’m gonna cum inside your pretty pussy.” He licked his lips, nearing his release. “Gonna fill you up with my cum.” For a man whose age is a hundred-something, he sure did love to get down and talk filth. Not that you minded, it was hot— he was hot all over.

You were the first to come, thighs shaking and slowing down your motion at the release as it pooled down the ruined motorcycle seat and made a mess on Bucky’s dick. You saw the stars when you rolled your eyes back— hard enough to even see the sunrise preparing to get up a few hours later.

He groaned, shortly following after, thrusting even deeper inside of you, filling your cunt to the brim as he ejaculated. The spurts of cum dripped down the side when he separated from you, fingers entering your folds to put it back in. You hummed in response, body too weak to move. Bucky was pleased, and wasted no time to pick up the pants you left on the floor.

He dressed you up, quite gently, as opposed to railing you hard just a few minutes before. You loved the contrast, but he was— and always had been a gentleman. You stood up to switch places with him, you were getting your real ride home. Covering your blouse, which was missing a few buttons with your blazer.

You gave him a small smirk.

“So, does this mean I’m fired?” You chuckled.

Well, you definitely needed to call in sick for today, not because you were battling a life threatening fever. Calling in sick because your legs were wobbly and cunt fucked to the brim by your boss, who looked at you like you were the only precious thing in the world. It wasn’t fair that your chest tightened immediately.

Bucky gave a hearty laughter— one that was rare to see from him. You must have saved an entire village, or you could’ve been an avenger in your different life to witness it.

“Nah, baby. You’re getting a raise.”

unadulterated loathing (pt 1) | @atlabeth

doctor dillamond pairs you and fiyero together for his midterm. you promptly decide that you hate him.

unadulterated loathing (pt 2) | @/atlabeth

turns out you have to spend a lot of time together to write a ten page essay. maybe you don't hate him that much.

unadulterated loathing (pt 3, finale) | @/atlabeth

things come to a head between you and fiyero in more ways than one.

DETESTATION | @delespresso

the constant back and forth was totally out of total detestation. . . right?

RERUN | @/delespresso

fiyero's arrival in shiz university had everyone in a frenzy, but especially a certain lady from winkie country

WINNER TAKES IT ALL |  @/delespresso

weekend games were normal in shiz, but fiyero has a different idea of a game when it comes to the girl who caught his eye

What Is This Feeling? | @munsonsmixtapes

you and Fiyero mistake your attraction to each other as loathing.  

I'm Not That Girl | @/munsonsmixtapes

you think Fiyero is only flirting you to be nice because you're not the kind of girl he usually goes for, but he's more than eager to set the record straight when confusion arises

Hey, Jealously | @of-many-fandomss

fiyero had been entranced by you since his first day at shiz university, but you never gave him the time of day. So, how was it that a munchkin boy you didn’t even know was making you laugh in the corner of the library?

to be changed. | @auroracalisto

to be vulnerable meant to be defenseless. it was a liability and that's all it ever would be. fiyero couldn't have that, now could he? 

with all the power in oz |  @/auroracalisto

the reader, rather anxious and studious, finds their self head-over-heels with none other than fiyero, supposed boyfriend to galinda upland. to placate this, they somewhat agree to meet him at the ozdust ballroom.

what is this feeling? | @maysileeewrites

Fiyero suddenly finds himself spending an unusual amount of time in the Shiz library

Dancing Through Life | @thesparkling-diamond27

Y/n Upperland of the Upper Uplands, cousin to Galinda Upand, doesn’t have a problem with Fiyero Tigelaar, but that doesnt’t mean that she wants him around. However, after one simple walk with the Winkie Prince, Y/n discovers that he’s not so bad after all.

Hopeless | @c0s-lettuce

fiyero is an interesting, if not irritating, presence in your life. but he surprises you most when he asks you to tutor him.

The Shiz University Book Fair | @captainsophiestark

Fiyero made an enemy in his destruction of the library, but it might be just the spark he needs to find something in life that matters.

𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌. | @willyoubemycherryy

This is unexpected I know but I saw wicked recently and it changed me. I love that man so go ahead and call me Metallica because nothing else matters. Here, have my heart it’s yours.

your fiyero | @fireinmoonshot

Ever since Fiyero Tigelaar started at Shiz University, he found himself fascinated by you – the one student who didn't care about him. When he notices you starting to struggle with something, he'll do anything to make sure you're okay.

Imagine | @/fireinmoonshot

𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | @multi-fandom-imagine   

You had grown up wondering what it would be like to be different. Years of a want for more, for something else, for anything beyond what you knew to be true... To say that you were wrong after years of growing to accept everything you were and everything you would ever be? That would be cruel not only to the sanctity of your long-lost friendship but to you, yourself.

You were you, and that was that.

There were many people who went through life banking on their good looks that they never once stopped to think about who they truly were on the inside—how their undesirable personalities may be making them less than to some people.

Beautiful people were all around you at Shiz University.

It was like you couldn't avoid them. At every turn, someone new popped up with a pretty voice, a pretty face, a pretty personality. Then there was the occasional one who was devastatingly beautiful but had the poorest personality of all.

Prince Fiyero seemed to be one of these people.

Oh, Oz, he was far more beautiful than all the people in the land, but that's where things tended to go wrong, yes? Someone so beautiful had to have a terrible personality. Someone who was simply with another person because it was what was "right"—because they went well with each other. Because their faces matched, because their aesthetics were just right, because Galinda believed he was her perfect match.

Maybe you were just bitter.

He wasn't truly a terrible person.

In fact, he'd always been quite nice to you. And he was handsome. And polite. And, if you so dared to say so, the object of which made your heart skip a beat and butterflies to fight with one another in the pit of your stomach.

For all the terrible people who'd ever existed, for all the feelings you held deep within, why'd he have to be so damned beautiful?

You sat out in one of the many gardens of Shiz, book in hand, but you couldn't truly focus on it. You had read something about a mad doctor and a very green monster of various parts and meager attitude, but after the first few paragraphs, the words began to blur.

Your mind was elsewhere, thinking back to the way that Fiyero looked at you in your history class. He looked at you so intently—like there was something he wanted to say, but perhaps he was afraid to.

Foolish thinking. That's all it was.

He was kind to you out of pity, perhaps. He pitied you because you were who you were. He shouldn't, though. Pretty people always seemed to pity you just for existing. (Did they really, or were you just holding onto your negative thoughts for dear life? You didn't need pity, and they did not truly pity you—perhaps they admired you more than you realized. The child within you was begging to be let out, begging to ruin your progress with barely a word.)

You scowled and suddenly slammed your book shut, not even bothering to mark your spot. You'd have to re-read it, anyway.

The voice coming from behind you nearly made you jump out of your skin.

"Goodness," Fiyero said. "Intense reading, hm?"

You glanced back at him, eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"Your book. Was it truly that bad?"

You blinked slowly and looked down at your book. The brown leather binding it together was soft to the touch. "I—no, it was fine, I just... couldn't focus."

"Couldn't focus? What are you thinking about?" Fiyero asked as he walked over, sitting beside you on the concrete bench. His closeness read of one who believed you were friends.

You wished you were far closer than you truly were. Maybe then it would not make you feel that way.

"You seemed a bit lost there." His smile was kind as always. He seemed genuinely interested, if only for a moment.

"Nothing," you said, letting out a soft sigh. You sit up a bit straighter, looking over at him. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just came to get some air," he said. "It's rather stuffy in that library. So many books, too many things to distract."

"So you come and talk to me?"

"It was just my luck that you were out here as well," he said, unable to hide his smile. "Thought I'd try and see what you were up to."

You frowned at that. The bitterness you held deep within, the one the child within you still grasped at with trembling fingers, was not about to escape just because of his appearance. You looked away, not noticing how his smile faltered.

You had been frustrated most of that morning. It was not fair of you to be this way, to think in such a manner.

You let out a soft sigh.

Were you being realistic? Or were you just being a pessimist? The confidence you held was lacking in this moment, but not because of who you were. No, no, it was more than that.

It was jealousy.

Tendrils of it crawled up the back of your spine, drilling into your nervous system with pinpoint precision. Since the rumor of Fiyero's ultimate relationship with Galinda, you had felt nothing more.

Fiyero cleared his throat and looked at the book you held in your hands. He went to speak again, but you beat him to it.

"Shouldn't you be with Galinda?"

"...What?" His voice had a sound of disbelief. You knew he was thrown off guard immediately.

"You know. Since she's your girlfriend. Isn't it a bit weird to be out here with me?"

"Well—she's not exactly my girlfriend, but who's to say I can't have friends?"

"Friends," you said. "We're not friends, Fiyero." Not like you wanted to be friends, anyway.

Bitterness did not suit you.

"Oh? Then what are we, Y/n? Can't call you a stranger, as that would be a downright lie. What about an acquaintance? Confidant? Playfellow? Ally? Comrade? Some of these are getting quite odd. Stop me when you hear one you like."

You scrunched your nose, unable to hide your obvious amusement. You attempted to play off annoyance instead. "Quit it."

He saw right through you. He always did.

"Quit what? Y/n, you're in a mood, aren't you? Would you rather I come back later?"

"Mood? I'm not in a mood."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"I beg to differ."

"And I beg for you to stop talking for once," you blurted, looking at him with a frown. "I was just trying to read my book, and here you come, waltzing in like you own the place."

He snorted softly. "Like I own the garden, hm? I could, if I so pleased."

You furrowed your brows again, this time the playful annoyance becoming something more. "Right."

He sighed. "Sorry," he said. "But genuinely, Y/n, what—"

"—I would like to read my book in peace and quiet, if you wouldn't mind."

A lie. A tremendous lie, if any. You could not focus. You did not want to. But...

He pursed his lips. He looked away from you, and for a moment, you thought he was going to speak again. But instead, he simply stands, giving you one last look, before he leaves, leaving you with your thoughts and frustrations.

You wished he wouldn't have, but at times, you just had a way with words. You've chased away many people before, even when you didn't mean to. The anger deep-rooted within your soul tended to lash out at the worst possible times.

You hoped he knew you didn't mean it.

A few days have passed since your last encounter with the handsome prince. You were much calmer today, which was a good thing—all things considered, of course. The rumors of the relationship between Fiyero and Galinda had diminished to just that—rumors. You finished a harrowing exam just that morning and passed with flying colors. Now, you were in the cafeteria, poking at a bit of seasoned rice and vegetables. You had already eaten your protein for the day, and you wanted to eat a bit more, but something was bothering you.

He was bothering you.

And of course, he never let you live without confident intrusion.

You liked the intrusion, though you did not let him know that.

Fiyero sat down in front of you, setting down a cup of something steaming—"Hot chocolate."

You looked up at him as he spoke. You raised an eyebrow.

"They had it," he said, motioning over his shoulder. "You look like you could use one." He pushed the frothy drink in front of your tray, and you looked at it, puzzled. "For the love of Oz, just take it."

"Thank you," you countered, looking at him with a small smile. It was faint, sure, but it was there.

His fingers tapped on the table as he watched you, a frown on his lips. "I need you to listen to me for a moment, and it is serious," he said. At your nod, he continued. "I have been thinking of this since you said it the other day. You seemed so sure of yourself. I am not with Galinda. We are not together. We are friends."

So be it.

"Friends, right?" you said, picking up the hot chocolate. Lips pursed slightly as you blew on the liquid to try and cool it down. Steam haunted your line of vision, eyes rapidly blinking as you glanced over at him.

"I am serious, Y/n," he retorted. "We have never dated."

"Do you not go on dates?"

"Do you not spend time with your friends outside of class?"

You pursed your lips as you took a sip of your drink.

"You should," Fiyero said. "I would like to spend time with you outside of class. I think you'd be much more open to talking to me if you got out of the school for once in your life. Perhaps we'd even be better friends."

"I do go out," you countered, setting the cup down. "I do talk to you. We are good friends."

"We are good friends?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Not as good as I would like to be. And yes, you talk to me when I make you, but where do you find yourself outside of school? The Ozdust? The library? The forest where no one can find you? Very outgoing, Y/n, very outgoing."

You leaned against your hand, raising an eyebrow. Had you said something to annoy him? Was he still annoyed with you from the last time you had talked to him?

You could read him like a book. Oh, how you wished you couldn't in times like these.

"Fiyero..."

"What?" he snapped, annoyance present behind the tired lines of his face, but he immediately straightened up, clearing his throat. "Sorry, I just..."

Blue eyes flickered away from you, finding purchase on some of the many faces and trays that filtered to-and-fro from the lunch line to the tables. Roasted meats, steaming vegetables, soft serve ice cream in many, many bowls. He recognized many of the people he saw, but he did not have a name for some of them. There were so many people he had to remember, you included.

He wanted to know you, always. He did not know how to tell you.

You were quiet for but a moment, finding your words during his obvious retreat into himself.

"I'm sorry, too."

He blinked slowly. "For what?"

"For being... well, unkind to you. You didn't deserve that the other day."

He snorted softly. "No, I did not."

"But you got to understand, Fiyero, I..."

"You what, Y/n? Think that you're not good enough for me to talk to?"

At that, you froze. He knew. He knew? How?

You were good enough to talk to him. You were. But there was that inkling, that self-doubt that did more harm than good. Rumors and jealousy and all of the little things that slithered it's way into your very way of life.

Your lips parted, and you would have spoken had it not been for him beating you to it.

"I'm not blind, Y/n. I try to act like I am at times, but truly, I can see what you think of me."

Wide-eyed, you immediately said: "I do not think badly of you, Fiyero."

"Oh, but you do, and I understand it."

"No? No, you do not understand—"

"—to a degree, I understand it. I will not sit here and pretend that we... know each other well, but I understand that you are resentful of me."

"I am not—"

"—darling, you are."

You looked down at the hot chocolate he had given you moments prior, the rich liquid cooling with each passing second, even when you did not touch it. You finally noticed the tiny marshmallows melting to the side of the cup. You had been so focused on him that you had yet to even truly assess what it was he had given you.

"Would you give me a chance?" Fiyero asked, drawing your attention back to him. "Would you give me a chance to show you that I do want to know you better?"

A small smile played at your lips. "You do not need a chance from me."

Fiyero's brows furrowed.

"You already have it."

His cheeks softly flushed as he watched you, eyes searching yours for a sign that you were lying—that you were merely pulling his legs. When he deemed you honest, he began to smile.

"Then let me spend time with you. Outside of class, of course."

You couldn't tell him no.

You refused to go off campus, spouting something about how if you were to go anywhere with him, it must be close by (you didn't want to go anywhere you didn't know, which... well, kudos to you, I suppose).

So here you were, walking down a winding path to the forest near the school. You watched your step, avoiding overgrown roots and the briars that threatened to jab your skin.

"Here we are," Fiyero said, grabbing hold of your arm and pulling you to his side.

In front of you laid a small and simple pond—one that you could have sworn you had seen before. It was as if you had dreamed of this sight—dreamed of this. Of him.

Dragonflies flew over the pond, cattails swaying with the gentle breeze. The water wasn't see-through—it was a bit murky, the top of it a lighter color than the brown underneath. You could hear peepers—frogs—calling out for anyone who would listen.

Peep, peep.

He led you over to a blanket that had already been laid out. Your eyes widened in realization, and a small smile grew steadily on your lips.

“Did you come here earlier to scope out the place?”

He scoffed softly before saying, “More or less.”

He let you sit down first before he sat beside you, looking out at the pond. The silence that followed wasn’t unbearable—the soft sounds from the wildlife had been enough to make you feel as if you didn’t need to talk. It gave you a chance to listen—once your eyes flickered in Fiyero’s direction, it gave you a chance to look at him. Actually look at him.

He was looking right at you.

“I’ve been meaning to speak to you, Y/n,” he said, fingers picking at the grass beside the blanket. "Speak to you honestly." He drew a blade of it and looked down at it, looking anywhere but you—his head turning away from his once obvious stare. His fingers twisted the blade into a knot before he tossed it into the pond, sighing softly.

Ripples in the water made a frog or two jump, croaking in annoyance.

“I can tell,” you muttered, eyes locked on his person. He looked smaller, somehow—as if the weight of the world was crushing him.

“Are you like the others? Do you think I am actually a bad person?”

Your brows furrowed. “What? Where is this coming from?”

Fiyero glanced back at you, weakly smiling. “You do not have to lie.”

“No,” you said. “I have never thought you were a bad person.”

He stared at you for a beat before he looked away. “Good. I was worried there for a second.”

“I can tell... but truly, Fiyero. What would it matter if I did think that?” you asked. “You do not owe me anything. You do not need to make me think you’re a good person.”

“No,” he said. “No, but I’ve made enough people think so. It would have been… rather disappointing hearing that you believed that way, too.”

Fiyero Tigelaar, a prince, a handsome man, a man who never had to ask twice when he wanted something—there was far more to him than many people thought. It seemed as if there was more to him than you once believed, too.

You grew up living in a world where looks weren’t everything, but they most definitely did help. Looking pretty, looking conventionally attractive—it all had its perks. But what of those who were beautiful? What of those like Fiyero, who had his beauty but were lacking in other ways?

Had you ever taken a moment to think of what it may have been like for someone beautiful, through and through?

You didn’t know what he was lacking. Not really. But for now, it seemed like he was lacking a friend. Not an acquaintance or a lackey that followed him around, but a friend. If romance followed suit, then so be it, but a friend was needed first.

You reached out and took hold of his hand. “Fiyero?”

He pulled his hand away, frowning deeply. He shook his head, getting to his feet.

“This was a mistake,” he said. “I shouldn’t have—we shouldn’t be here. You need to get back.”

“What? Fiyero, we haven’t even been out here for that long—“

“—Y/n,” he interrupted, exasperated. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, kicking at a tuft of grass and dirt he had managed to pull up earlier. He didn’t look at you.

Instead of leaving as he had told you, you stayed put. You simply stared at him, frowning. You knew him well enough, you supposed. Was he realizing that? Or was the weight of the world finally showing you exactly how he felt?

The anxiety he felt was palpable. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

He glanced over at you, frowning as you didn't leave.

You reached forward, pulling a hand from his pocket and taking hold of it once more. He did not pull away, allowing you to lace your fingers with his.

Lips pressed to the skin of his knuckles, hand squeezing hand.

"This was not a mistake," you said. "I am here, Fiyero."

At that, his frustrated expression softened. You were right. You were here. So was he.

There was no hate behind your words. No malice.

Before this moment, perhaps the only thing that backed your words stemmed from the jealousy of Galinda (the one whom he believed to be friends with, but truly had not felt like this toward anyone else, other than you).

"Thank you," Fiyero softly said.

"Do not thank me. Before I am anything else, I am your friend."

A small smile quirked on his lips. "You are my friend? My dear friend?"

"Yes. I have decided that we are dear friends."

Fiyero squeezed your hand once, twice, thumb gently brushing over the back of it. His eyes flickered toward the pond before you both.

"I do believe you have my heart," he softly said, voice barely above a whisper. For a moment, you were convinced that you had heard wrong. His flushed cheeks, however, showed that you had not.

You reached forward, placing a hand on his flustered skin, making him look at you.

"And you have mine," you softly said. "Truly."

His eyes searched yours, and for what it was worth, he knew that you had bewitched him, perhaps until the end of time. He would want for nothing more than to have you in his arms, to hold, to touch.

He had found beauty in Oz in many different ways. Beautiful people, beautiful paintings, fashion, songs, dancing. He only wished that he had known just how stunning the rest of Oz would be.

And now? He had you.

The beauty of Oz stemmed from pretty faces and pretty bodies. The beauty of Oz stemmed from pretty souls, and actions, and words that came from delicate mouths, and thoughts that came from harrowing minds, and, and, and.

Beauty, as it seemed, came from so much more than just a beautiful face.

Fiyero was beautiful.

Many faces around were beautiful with not-so-beautiful souls, but truly? Who were you to say much more than that? The terrible attitudes that you often deemed "ugly" came from those who were insecure, hurting, and more often than not, people who did not know any better.

There was beauty in the cracks, the insecure, the jealous.

All of Oz was not perfect. Many things were deplorable, and you could deal with that when the time came to fruition. But you knew, with every fiber inside of you, every cell, every piece of stardust that made you and all of the others, beauty could be found.

And while it may seem quite silly, you had never felt more beautiful than the moment that Fiyero said it himself, words tying you closer to his fate than ever before—not to mention the fact that he, in all his beautiful glory, had said everything you were was beautiful.

It had started with one of the many outings the two of you took as friends, delving into the inconsistencies of Oz, the things that made the two of you nervous for what was to come.

And then, he got a bit too close, lips looking dashingly tempting, when he said the words that echoed in your mind:

"You are so beautiful. Every bit of you. Your mind, your body, your soul. If you will have me, I wish to tell of your beauty every day, every hour, every minute. Tell me no, and I will go. Tell me yes, and you will never live another moment with the fear that you are otherwise."

Of course, you took him up on his offer. The man you once felt jealousy toward, only in the context that he was with another. Oz be blessed when you knew that he had wanted you from the moment he met you.

You were not just an acquaintance, a lackey, a confidant. You were his, through and through, mind, body, and soul. And he, ever his beautiful self, was yours. No hesitation, no meaning for confusion.

He loved, loved, loved you. Friend and friend, hand in hand, a match made from not just belief but intent and gumption. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, yes, but undoubtedly in the heart of those who truly mattered.

You both knew, now. What beauty was. How beauty felt.

No cares, no worries. How lovely that would have been.

No, you hold onto the things that happen to you as if you have no other way to live. You hold grudges, you think over things that happened years ago that no one could possibly remember.

For someone who wished to be a sorcerer, you had a hard time simply letting things go. Your emotions often got the better of you, even when you knew better. Even when you wished it could be the opposite. But perhaps that was the way of the world.

Not a man in Oz could tell you otherwise.

Books in hands, you crossed the path to your dormitory, brows cinched together in mild concentration.

You had a project in your history class, and an extensive paper to complete on the study of mathematics—of all the things you could have had, a paper in mathematics. You'd rather perform magic in front of the entire student body, but you couldn't.

As you walked, you heard your name come from behind you. Eyes flicker back, a soft frown on your lips. You see him—Fiyero. The one fool you meant to avoid with all the gumption within you.

You'd melt just being near him.

"Fiyero," you softly greet.

He gave you a charming smile, coming up to walk with you. "Heading back already?" he asked.

"I am."

"Working on the project, hm? We could work on it together if you'd like. I'm sure our minds could do wonders," he said, a playful wink coming from him.

"I'm fine," you simply said.

He blinked slowly, but his smile never wavered. "Come now," he said, your name leaving his lips rather sweetly. "Surely you're not going to spend the rest of your evening alone. Why don't you come to Ozdust tonight?"

You looked back at him, frowning. "Ozdust. Me. I don't think so, Fiyero."

"And why not? I'm sure you'd be as dashing as ever."

You stopped in your steps, eyes searching his for but a moment. "Dashing. Are you in earnest, Fiyero?"

"Yes," he said, smiling.

"And what of Galinda? You'll be with her. Why invite me?"

"She doesn't need to know. It's not her business," he said. "Besides, she will be busy with Elphaba. I'd much rather spend time with you."

"And I think you're just pulling my leg," you said defensively. You crossed your arms over your chest, careful to keep your books close.

"Pulling your leg? I haven't even touched you," he said, a cheeky grin on his lips. "Come now, don't play coy. You should come."

"And if I do?"

"Then I'll be quite happy."

You rolled your eyes and went to walk away.

A hand wrapped around your bicep, and you paused, glancing over your shoulder at him.

His eyes widened a bit and he dropped his hand, albeit hesitantly. Perhaps he didn't think he would actually reach out to you. He cleared his throat.

"I really would like you to be there. You'll have the time of your life."

"The time of my life," you repeated. "I don't think you realize how much I dread parties."

"Have you ever been to one?"

"No."

"Then how do you know you dread them?"

"I just know," you said. "I feel it in my bones. I know going will just get on my nerves."

He scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. "I think you're foolish for that," he said. "Come on. What are you losing? A couple hours to work on a project that you know you could finish in a morning session? You'll be fine. Come to the Ozdust tonight. I'll show you a good time."

You clenched your jaw. "I don't want—"

"—I would like you to be there. That is all. I won't ask again." He gave you another small smile before he looked away. "I'll see you around. Perhaps tonight?"

You stared him down. He would like to see you there? Was he being honest? And what of Galinda? Would he be going behind her back? Wasn't he madly in love with her, or something? Or was it the other way around?

He said your name once more, and you looked up at him, letting out a soft sigh.

"Right. Perhaps tonight," you softly said.

The smile on his lips was rather... hopeful than anything else. There wasn't anything smarmy by it. He seemed as genuine as the glint in his eye—the one he used when he spoke with anyone he trusted. At least, you hoped so.

The night came quickly as you finished up your outfit—one you would hope you didn't look completely foolish in. The color you chose seemed to fit well with almost anything, but you still worried. You always worried about something.

Time was of the essence. You weren't even supposed to leave Shiz University's campus, but here you were, sneaking like some scoundrel.

Well, perhaps you were, listening to the requests of a man who already had a girlfriend—a fantastically beautiful one at that.

But you paid no mind. You did what you could, and soon, you found yourself walking down the steps of the Ozdust Ballroom.

Never had you been in a place like this. It was almost... breathtaking, had it not been for the overpowering smells of perfume and some kind of drink wafting from the bar. Your eyes flitted from patron to patron until you finally spotted him—Fiyero.

He looked just as handsome as ever.

Good Oz, what in the world were you doing? This was foolish.

You took a step back, staring at Fiyero for a moment as he spoke with another man, drink in hand. You needed to leave. This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous! Never in a thousand years would you ever imagine yourself to do such a thing—

"You made it!"

Fiyero's voice rang out above the music.

You look to him, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Because of course he saw you as soon as you had decided to leave.

Fiyero smiled and made his way to you, taking your hands in his, drink left with the confused man behind him. Surely he didn't just up and leave in the middle of his conversation.

You part your lips and go to speak, but to your dismay, Fiyero is instant.

"I was afraid you had changed your mind," he said. "You look ravishing, darling."

Your eyes widened. Ravishing? You'd been called many things in your life, but never ravishing.

"Galinda couldn't make it?" you asked.

"Wha—no, she couldn't. But what of it? I didn't ask her to the Ozdust, I asked you. I'm glad to see your face."

Warmth blossomed in your cheeks as you watched him. "Fiyero, please... I shouldn't be here."

"Oh, nonsense," he said, grinning all the while. "Come. Dance with me."

"But I don't—"

"—do not say you don't dance. I can teach you."

"Teach me?"

"It's as easy as breathing," he said.

"For you, maybe, but not for—"

"—humor me," he said, smiling.

You pursed your lips. Of course he had to give you that charming smile and the sweet bat of his eyelashes.

"I do not dance," you repeated.

"I think I will be the judge of that."

He grabbed your hands once more and pulled you out into the ballroom floor, smiling all the while.

"You'll be a natural. I can just see it."

"I feel like if I were a natural, you wouldn't have to teach me," you said, gasping as he pulled you close to his chest. His face was dangerously close to yours, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

"You know," he began, eyes flickering back to your eyes. "We all start somewhere, do we not? You should know that better than anyone."

"What? What does that—"

He interrupted you by spinning you by your arm, back into his embrace. The music was rather ambient, not quite one for dancing so enthusiastically, but Fiyero embraced it. Hand to your hand, face close to your face.

"See? A natural."

"You merely spun me around, Fiyero. Do not be foolish."

"You could have fell flat on your face," he said, a boyish grin evident on his lips.

"Stop looking at me like that," you defiantly said. "You are far too close to me for my liking."

"Oh, feisty, are we?" he asked, moving his body along to the music and forcing you to go along, too. You nearly stepped on his toes several times. "I do not think there is anything wrong with the way I'm looking at you. You're rather breathtaking, if I may."

Breathtaking. The same way you had described him only hours before. He wasn't a mind reader, was he?

No.

Of course not. That was foolish. He was merely a man. Nothing of great importance—no power within him other than the power he held in every single eyelash as they batted down at you, making you melt over and over again.

"What of Galinda?" you repeated.

"What of her?"

"You shouldn't be calling someone who isn't yours breathtaking. It's quite..."

"There is nothing wrong with admiring the beauty in front of me," he said, your name playfully leaving his tongue. "Look at me. Galinda and I are only friends."

You rolled your eyes. "Do not lie to me."

His eyes widened a bit. "Lie? I do not lie. We are friends and nothing more. Though I do believe she thinks differently..."

"She must," you said, huffing softly.

"But that does not make it true. I have eyes for someone else."

"Eyes for someone else?"

He tilted his head once more. He was rather endearing when he did that.

"Who did I ask to their very first party?" he asked, smiling. "It's quite a feat, isn't it? Afraid you wouldn't show, and then you do, questioning me and everything I stand for, hm?"

Warmth found its way to your cheeks once more. You looked away from him. With the crescendo of the music, Fiyero pulled you closer, fingers lacing with yours. His lips hover dangerously close to yours.

"You know, if you would just give it a chance, perhaps you and I could make some magic of our own."

You let out a curt laugh. "You—oh, good Oz, I hope you never use that line on anyone! Has that worked for you before?"

He gave a cheeky smile. "It seems like it's working on you."

"Absolutely not!"

"Not even a little!"

"No!"

His smile only seemed to grow. "Truly?"

You looked away, swallowing thickly. "I mean... no. Not even a little. Not at all."

"You're lying," he said.

"I am not."

"I do think I know what I'm talking about," he said, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the soft skin of your cheek. "Come now," he said. "Stop with the lies."

You looked up at him, a soft huff escaping you.

"Fine. I lied. It may or may not be working. But it's not just because of what you said."

"Oh? Are you saying you like me for more than my suave words?"

"Suave words? Who in Oz said they were suave?"

He just smiled, his eyes flickering to your lips once more. "Do you think instead of just a dance, I could try something more?"

"Try what?"

"I think you know."

You blinked slowly at him, your fingers gently gripping onto his tunic. Your lips part in mild surprise, but you realize that you shouldn't have been. He'd been eyeing you the entire evening.

"Very well," you softly said.

"Wonderful," he replied, and in a swift motion, he pressed his lips to yours. It was short as he pulled back almost as soon as he had kissed you, but it was enough to keep you wanting more.

"Fiyero, that wasn't—"

"—come with me," he softly said, lacing his fingers with yours once more. "Somewhere without so many prying eyes, yes?"

Your answer was almost instant: "Yes."

Fiyero led you back up the staircase, and he didn't look back once at the ballroom.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"Somewhere where I can see you and only you," he said. "If that's alright."

"Oh," you softly said. "Yes. That's alright."

"Then follow me," he said. "Do you trust me?"

You smiled sincerely for one of the first times in the evening. Did you trust him? What kind of foolish question was that? If you had the chance, you'd do whatever he'd ask of you. You found your answer rather quickly, knowing within yourself that it was far truer than any other statement you had ever uttered.

You walk in to find Bucky in mid-stretch, your jaw dropping like it just discovered the force of gravity. His shirt is missing, his sweatpants hung low. The handsome bastard flexes, legitimately flexes, when he reaches for something on the top shelf. Don’t ask what the color or content of the object in his hand is because you have no idea. And he just looks at you with a knowing smirk, like he was waiting for you to catch him.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

That was new.

He doesn't say it like it's a joke. Doesn't toss the endearment out casually. He says it like it means something. And you aren't sure what to do with that. 

“You’re talking to me?” you ask, looking around. You, the newest member of the team. The one who had to earn his trust.

“Who else would I be talking to?” he asks in return, tossing the object between his hands and drawing attention to how long and thick his fingers are. “Yeah, but… Sweetheart?”

“Yeah. That's what you are. Sweet,” he says like it’s obvious. “And you have a heart.”

You blink. Is the grump flirting with you? To be fair, it isn't fair to think of him as a grump. After everything he went through, he has the right to feel jaded, over it, however he wants to feel.

And it isn't like he was grumpy when you moved into the tower. He was… curious. Watchful. Almost like a cat trying to assess if you were a threat or not. Didn't stop you from being nice to him, and he was never rude in return while he warmed up to you. But he was never like this.

Until now.

“Would you prefer I call you something else?” He brushes by when you don’t respond, deliberately getting in your space. He’s huge, and you nearly tremble from the attention he’s giving you. “If not, I’ll just keep calling you sweetheart… sweetheart,” he adds right in your ear before leaving the room. 

Your heart pounds. You have to brace yourself against the counter. Did you imagine that? Did he get hit with some weird pollen, or did you wake up in an alternate universe?

Sweetheart. 

The word lingers in the air, thick and sweet, like his presence did. He doesn't call Yelena or Ava by any terms of endearment. He’s polite with them. Friendly now and then. Not that soft or intimate. 

So, why you?

And you can't stop thinking about the way he used to watch you from across the room, silent and still. How his blue eyes would follow you like he was just to figure out a puzzle he didn't know if he wanted to finish. Now he brushes past you like he put the last piece in place. 

Bob walks in and gives you a small nod and a shy smile. “Morning.”

You calm your racing heart. “Bucky called me ‘sweetheart',” you blurt out. 

“Oh.” He’s silent for a moment before his smile widens. “Well, he did finally say you earned your spot here.”

You nod, smiling to yourself. He did say that, and it felt good. There was trust and respect now when he looked at you. “Still doesn't explain why he called me that.”

Or why he was preening like a peacock in his half-naked glory. 

“Maybe he was being nice,” Bob muses, but there's happiness in his eyes that you don't see often. 

Maybe he is. It’s harmless. Or maybe he’s just messing with you. Then again, maybe he isn't. 

It escalates from there.

Bucky and Alexei are chatting after a mission when you walk by and give them a nod. The handsome super soldier waves you over with a bit of mischief in his eyes. You raise an eyebrow when he stands up and slowly unzips his leather jacket. Your throat goes dry and you’d swear the show is just for you, if not for Alexei sitting close by.

You don’t back up when he tosses the jacket away and gets in your personal space bubble, your thighs pressing together. Removing a single garment shouldn’t be as sexy as he made it out to be. It’s not fair.

“What’s up?” you ask, your voice high.

“We were talking about undercover missions.” He slips an arm around your waist and pulls you against him, letting you feel his hard body through his black clothes. “We’d make a good couple for one, right?” he asks Alexei. 

“The best couple!” The Red Guardian shouts it so loud you wince. “You two? So good together. Beautiful babies in your future.”

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers. “Beautiful babies?” you repeat very slowly. 

“Yes! A beautiful new generation!”

“What do you think?” You dare to sneak a look at Bucky when his grip tightens, his eyes dark. “You wanna practice making babies?” he asks so seriously that you sputter. 

Because how does he go from casually stretching shirtless to asking you that?

He wants to practice “breeding” you? He wants to take you to bed? He wants-

John chooses that exact moment to make his presence known, complaining about one of the reports he has to do. It effectively ends the conversation and puts a sour look back on Bucky’s face when he lets you go. Your brain tries to catch up when you leave, feeling his eyes on you until you’re out of sight. You don't even remember why you’re going to the hall to begin with since all you can think of is him.

“What the hell?” you utter. 

What is happening?

Bucky starts leaving blankets in every room so you don’t get cold, and they smell just like his cologne. He has snacks and water for you, too, so you don’t forget to eat or drink when you get wrapped up in tasks. No one else looks out for you like that.

He’s suddenly everywhere, too. Leaning in doorframes that you need to pass through, making sure to touch you when you walk by. Standing too close when you’re cooking something in the kitchen, letting his warmth envelope you. Yelena and Ava exchange looks and subtle smiles whenever he hovers. 

“You going to taste test her cuisine?” Ava asks. 

“I’d like to taste test something of yours,” he says low enough for you to hear, touching your waist when you inhale. He wants to taste you, too? “I’m happy to test anything she wants,” he tells Ava. 

“I’ll bet you are,” Yelena mutters. 

And he insists on sitting beside you, always. Debriefings, on the jet, everywhere. He tosses John out of a spot just so he can sit next to you. He turns his chair or body toward you, making sure you know he's paying attention whether you're speaking or not. And he hangs on your every word to the point where you squirm under his heated gaze. 

The man seriously went from a cat who wasn’t sure if he could trust you to claiming you as his person.

“You know,” he begins, licking his lips, “I could listen to you read the phone book, and I’d never get bored.”

“Do… Do those even exist anymore?” you ask because you don't know what else to say. 

His eyes crinkle when he laughs, and he places a hand on your arm, like he has to touch you. “You're funny, sweetheart.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, and you don't know what to do. It's not just the nickname and the teasing. It's the way he doesn’t break, appearing cool and confident. It’s the way he looks at you like you’re anchoring him to the present, like every word that comes out of your mouth is a lifeline. 

And the hand on your arm, gentle and grounding but creating sparks like static under your skin. He doesn't touch most people. Not casually. Not like this. But he touches you. 

You glance at his hand and back up at him. “You’re looking at me like I'm a game you're trying to win.”

“You’re not a game.” He tilts his head. “But I do feel like I'm winning when you're close by.”

It doesn't end there. 

He starts lifting things that don’t need lifting. With one hand. Your chair instead of sliding it across the room. Your desk when you decide to move it to another corner. And you. Yeah, you. He tosses you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, chuckling as you shriek and protest. 

“What?” he asks with amusement when you squirm. “Thought you needed help getting to the gym.”

Oh, the gym. You aren’t sure what kind of sounds he made before you showed up, but his grunts and groans when he lifts weights are nothing short of pornographic when you’re close by. And he doesn't look at his reflection when he exercises, barely breaking a sweat. Oh, no. He looks right at you.

And it doesn't go unnoticed by you that the others aren't there when you and Bucky exercise, which wasn’t the case when you first showed up. 

“I can go for hours,” he casually states one day, and you almost trip over your own feet. “Can help you with your stretches, too… so you feel it nice and deep.”

You just about short-circuit. “Nice and deep, huh?”

“Nice. And. Deep.”

Sparring with him ends with you wet and frustrated. There is no reason for his hips to press against yours, letting you feel that he really is big all over. No explanation for why he pins your arms above your head and looks at you like he wants to devour you when you pant beneath him. And why the hell does he always smirk and leave you laying there wanting more?

It’s because Bucky Barnes is a fucking tease. 

A fucking menace.

“I should shower.” He brushes his ridiculously gorgeous hair back and smirks. “You know, you could shower with me and save some water.”

Your legs almost give out. “Is that the only reason why you want me there? To save on a precious bill that you don't even pay?”

You want to hear him say the reason. 

His eyes sweep over you. “Oh, I think you know why, sweetheart,” he answers, leaving you hot and bothered while he gets his bag. Like the fucking tease he is. “Maybe we can practice making those babies.”

Tease. Menace. Fucker.

“You’re about as subtle as a brick to the face!” you call after him.

“I’ve had a brick to the face before. Don't recommend it!” he calls back. 

You huff and lay out on the mat, high and dry. You laugh a little. What is he doing to you? What are you to him? 

And tonight, the team is once again making themselves sparse while he sits beside you on the couch in the common room, his massive thigh pressed against yours, his arm casually tossed behind you like he owns the space and you. And, well, maybe he does. Maybe you want him to.

“Did you realize we’re wearing the same shade of blue today?” You glance at his shirt and then yours. “We’re in sync. A perfect fit.”

In sync, but he hadn't kissed you. A perfect fit, but he hadn't asked you out. This man was put here to test your resolve. 

“What?” he asks when you shift toward him, his arm tightening around you. 

“You drive me crazy, Bucky Barnes,” you finally say, narrowing your eyes at him.

He raises an eyebrow. “I drive you crazy? I’m just existing,” he replies, feigning innocence. “And right now, you’re staring at me.”

Maybe you are. Maybe you’re always staring. Because he makes you look. Because he started all this. And he better finish it.

“Don't you dare act innocent when you know what you're doing,” you hiss when he smiles. “Calling me ‘sweetheart’ and marching around shirtless like a harlot and the showing off with your muscles-”

“You noticed my muscles?”

“Talking about making babies with me.”

“Alexei made the first comment about that, but our babies would be adorable,” he says, and your heart swells. 

“And the blankets and the snacks?” you question.

“As much as I want to be the one to keep you warm, I thought it might be weird if I held you all the time, so I left you blankets. And you need to eat and stay hydrated. I need you to take care of yourself while also letting me take care of you” he answers.

“You got me there.” It’s enough to make you swoon. He has to be an amazing dom. “But what about the dirty noises you make when you exercise and-”

“If you think that's dirty, you should hear me when I-”

You put a hand over his mouth, your cheeks hot.  “And you talk about me staring at you, but you always stare at me.”

“Because you're pretty. You're so fucking pretty,” he whispers when your hand drops, bringing his hand to your cheek. “And you’re so smart. That's a reason I love listening to you.”

“Even if I just read the phone book?” you question. 

“Even then,” he promises, his thumb moving along your skin. “And you're so capable. That’s a reason I love sparring with you.”

You giggle. “That's a reason?”

“That, and it’s hot as hell when you're underneath me,” he answers truthfully, making you feel like you're about to catch on fire. “But most importantly.” He takes a breath. “I trust you.”

Your eyes burn. You know he does, but hearing him say it reinforces it. “I trust you, too,” you whisper. 

He chuckles, soft and low. “I'm so out of practice when it comes to wooing a dame. I’m not who I was before, but I’m somehow okay with that.”

You melt. “I think you’re great just as you are,” you tell him, making him softly smile. You’re happy that he’s okay with himself. He has every right to be. “So, you're trying to woo me? At the very least, you were certainly trying to get my attention.”

It hits you that maybe all of this is his version of a confession. Not grand gestures. Just… proximity. Attention. Flirting. Affection. Openings offered for you to follow him or maybe meet him halfway. 

He nods. 

“And the team knows?” you ask. 

Another nod. “Yeah.” For the first time he almost looks sheepish. “We’ll have their support if we move forward.”

It means the world that they want him to be happy. Well, both of you. “Is that what you want? To move forward together?” you ask above a whisper, almost like you’ll jinx it if you say it too loud.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he breathes, slowly leaning in. Your breath hitches. Your heart pounds. This is it. He’s finally going to kiss you. 

And you move back before his lips touch yours. 

“Wooing involves flowers. I think I deserve them,” you tell him, ducking out of his grasp and watching as his jaw drops. “Then maybe we can talk about moving forward.”

He recovers quickly, and you see a flash of respect in his eyes. “You do,” he agrees, reaching for your hand before you can get up and walk away. “Can I take you out tomorrow night? Please? I’ll get you flowers.”

You want to do a happy dance because he finally asked, and you wonder if the team took bets on when this would happen. “Only if you wear those gray sweatpants,” you smirk. 

He smirks back at you. “Knew you liked those,” he says, his forehead crinkling. “What will you wear?”

“I’ll surprise you.”

And for once, you’ll tease him. 

Aww. I wonder what the date will be. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Giddy with enthusiasm to start your day, you hopped out of bed when it was still early in the morning, especially for the weekend. But you’d waited as long as you could, so you eagerly got ready with a bounce in your step and a smile on your face. 

From your closet, you pulled the skimpiest bikini you owned, one that was little more than tiny scraps of fabric held together by thin strings. It left nothing to the imagination, and it gave you a sense of satisfaction to imagine how the buttoned-up lawyer-next-door would react to seeing you in it.

Flouncing downstairs, you paused only briefly to make an iced coffee and grab one of your smutty romance novels before making your way outside.

The patio around your pool was drenched in warm, golden sunlight, a soft breeze blowing through your yard to keep the heat bearable. You took a deep breath, soaking in the scent of freshly mowed grass and the late summer flowers of your garden—a mix of zinnias and black-eyed susans. 

You loved this time of year, when the high heat of summer had burned off, leaving the smoldering, delicious warmth of August’s cooler nights and bright sunny days. If you could live your entire life in one slice of a season, it would be this.

Bubbly joy filled your chest and a bright grin was spread across your face as you made yourself comfortable on your favorite sun lounger—the one that had a perfect view of the kitchen window in the Barber house. 

You didn’t see the smudge of shadow that meant Andy was inside, which sent a tiny pang of disappointment curling through your belly, but you reminded yourself it was still early. Perhaps the 40-something lawyer needed to sleep in after all the excitement of yesterday.

That thought had you smirking to yourself and you flipped your book open to a page you knew well. You’d read this particular romance novel before, so you knew exactly where to find your favorite smutty sex scene. Settling into the lounger, you sipped your coffee and began to read.

By the time you felt the familiar electric current zip down your spine that meant Andy Barber was watching you, your body was already warm with desire. The book had done the trick and your arousal was already making a mess of the scrap of fabric between your thighs.

Lifting your eyes from your book, you caught a glimpse of Andy’s shadow in the window of his kitchen before he disappeared. It was so much like those mornings when he’d disappeared after simply watching you that your heart dipped unpleasantly, but it perked up a moment later when Andy stepped out his back door.

Your body shifted on the sun lounger, almost without your notice, crossing your legs enticingly and arching your spine so your tits were pushed up, straining against the thin strings of your bikini. Your nipples were already hard and aching, clear as day against the thin fabric of your suit.

The closer Andy got, the more his expression darkened with desire. His blue eyes were raking unabashedly over your body, feasting on every inch of exposed skin like it was a meal only for him—which, of course, it was. Surely he knew that by now…

“Is this all for me, sunshine?” Andy rumbled, his voice gruff with barely leashed lust as he came to a stop next to your lounger, casting a shadow across your face. 

Setting your book aside, you skated your fingertips teasingly up your thigh and over your hip, toying with the ties of your bikini for a moment before moving higher. You heard the hitch in Andy’s breath when your fingers traced the curve of your tits, and a smile tugged slowly on the corners of your lips.

“It’s always been all for you, Mr. Barber,” you said huskily, catching Andy’s eye and arching your body toward him in a sensual, lustful presentation.

For a moment, Andy’s jaw just worked, the muscle popping as he chewed over what to say. While you waited for him to decide, you were gratified to see the bulge growing in his jeans. Your fingertips lightly teased your aching nipples, your smile growing when his cock twitched in his pants.

“You’re too good for me, sunshine,” Andy murmured, and the tenor of his voice had the breath rushing out of you. 

The fear that Andy might pull away before you’d ever really had him struck deep in your heart and you sat up quickly, grabbing his hand. You laced your fingers through his until your palms were pressed together and you peered up at him, letting him see the genuine honesty in your eyes as you spoke.

“I want this, Andy,” you said, squeezing his hand lightly before pulling it to your chest. You pressed the back of his hand against your sternum, so he could feel the way your heart raced. “I want you.”

“You want a divorced, 40-something lawyer who works too much and has no idea how to do this anymore?” Andy asked, gesturing between the two of you with his free hand, bitterness dripping from his tone. His face was guarded, but you could’ve sworn you saw something deep in his eyes, something that looked like hope.

Spurred on by that spark in his gorgeous blue eyes, you pushed yourself up to standing, gratified when Andy didn’t step back. Your bodies were close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, and for a moment, you basked in the feeling of him. It was the first time you’d ever been so close.

Andy Barber was hotter than the sun in his simple jeans and t-shirt, a hint of the silver chain he wore around his neck peeking out. You couldn’t help the way your body swayed into him, not quite touching, but aching to. Instead, you squeezed his hand again, still holding on.

“I want the man who’s my hot, friendly, charming neighbor, the generous man who always offers to mow my lawn or carry my groceries even when he’s busy,” you said, speaking slowly to make sure Andy heard every word you said. “I want the man who makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world every time he looks at me—the one who drives me so wild that I’ve been showing off for him all summer hoping he’d finally take a hint and ask me out.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you felt laid bare after your pronouncement. You felt so much more vulnerable admitting your feelings than you ever had showing off your body, and you wondered briefly—morosely—if Andy would leave you hanging like he did all those other mornings.

Andy was quiet for a long time, his eyes searching your face like he was looking for any hint that you weren’t being entirely truthful. However, you had nothing to hide. You’d told him how you felt, how you’d been feeling all summer, and it was up to him to figure out how to handle it.

“He sounds like kind of an idiot,” Andy rumbled, raking his free hand through his fluffy brown hair. The gesture was uncertain, but there was a glimmer of humor in his gaze, and in the flickering corners of his mouth. “Maybe you’d be better off with someone else.”

You could hear the insecurity in his tone, and a sad smile curved your lips. He’d barely finished the sentence before you were shaking your head. 

“He’s the one I want,” you said simply, closing the distance between your bodies and pressing lightly against Andy’s chest. For a second, your head spun at the exhilarating feeling of him, but you refocused, pressing his hand to your sternum again. “My heart’s set on him.”

Andy took a deep breath, his chest rubbing against your aching nipples and sending a delicious shiver down your spine. It took all your self-control to hold yourself back from rubbing against him and begging him to fuck you. Somehow, you knew Andy just needed time, so you gave it to him.

“Well, sunshine,” Andy murmured, cupping your cheek in his big palm. His touch was cool compared to the warmth of the sun and you nuzzled into him, your eyes going heavy-lidded as you stared into his handsome face. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” you said quickly, just to drive your point home that you were sure. 

You were rewarded with Andy’s soft smile and his even softer, “Alright.” He ducked his head, pressing his forehead to yours.

Inside your chest, your heart soared. Andy Barber was finally going to give you what you wanted—him. You were so sure he was going to kiss you, a buzzy awareness filling your body as you tipped your head back, ready to slant your lips to his. You could taste the coffee on Andy’s breath, and you wanted to lick the taste from his lips.

But before your mouths could connect, Andy was pulling away, leaving you feeling bereft. A cry of protest rose in your throat, but you swallowed it down when he dropped a quick kiss to your knuckles, which stopped you from feeling too disappointed. 

There was a smirk flirting around the edges of Andy’s mouth, and there was a heated promise in his gaze as he stared at you. It only took a second for you to realize that Andy wanted to have a little fun before you took things further—and he’d rightly guessed that if you kissed, you didn’t know if you’d be able to stop yourself from jumping him.

“How about that dip in the pool?” Andy asked, back to his charming, friendly self—back to the game the two of you had been playing. “It’s another scorcher today, and I could use a little relief.”

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell Andy that you needed some relief from the heat swirling in your core, but you were too curious about what he was up to. So you let him pull his hand from yours and gestured welcomingly to your pool. “By all means…”

Then, right in front of you, Andy Barber began to strip. 

Reaching behind his back, he tugged his shirt over his head, ruffling his fluffy brown hair and revealing the wide expanse of his broad, golden chest. There was so much to look at, and all you could do was stare.

Andy’s shoulders were deliciously broad, his pecs covered in a dusting of dark brown hair that led down to his belly, and even further down… His skin was also decorated in a smattering of freckles that ran up his toned arms and across his collarbones, which were highlighted by the silver chain he always wore.

There was a layer of softness to Andy’s body that belied the strength you knew resided in his corded muscles, and it only made you ache for him even more. The tight coil of need in your belly wound even tighter as your gaze followed the path of hair down to his belly, where it disappeared into his jeans.

“Ya like what ya see, sunshine?” Andy asked, his tone friendly and teasing, but there was an undertone to it that revealed his own lust. It occurred to you, suddenly, that he liked it when you looked at him just as much as you liked the feeling of him watching you. 

The realization had your mouth curving into a smirk, and you wrenched your gaze up to Andy’s face to let him see the naked desire in your eyes. 

“Oh, I like it very much, Mr. Barber,” you murmured huskily, teasingly skating your fingertips down your sides to play with the ties of your bikini. “I’m feeling a little hot and bothered, might need to join you in the pool.”

At that, Andy grinned, his eyes dipping down your body to rake appreciatively over the way you looked in your skimpy bikini. It made you practically glow with pride and you grinned back, your own gaze greedily wandering his body.

In his jeans, Andy’s cock was hard and bulging, and you could imagine it was beginning to get uncomfortable. It was a good thing, then, that he made quick work of shucking off his jeans and socks, leaving them with his shoes by the sun lounger beside yours. 

Andy reached out, brushing his fingers over the back of your hand as he walked past, moving toward the pool. His touch sent tingles dancing through your body, and you desperately wanted to grab him and drag him back, but you wanted to see how this played out first.

“Join me whenever you want, sunshine,” Andy said, before pausing next to you and catching your eye. “Until then, enjoy the show.” He brushed a quick kiss to your cheek, his beard rasping against your skin and sending a shiver of delight down your spine.

Then he was gone, strolling to the edge of the pool and executing a smooth dive into the cool water. 

Your legs felt weak, all the blood in your body rushing between your thighs, where you were throbbing with need, so you sank down onto your sun lounger. You watched with breathless anticipation thrumming in your blood as Andy cut a clean line through the water, swimming laps like he didn’t have a significant bulge between his thighs.

You were too riled up to sit still for long, and when you couldn’t stop squirming on the lounger, you gave up the pretense of watching to walk to the edge of the pool. There, you sat down, dipping your feet into the pool and letting its coolness give you some relief. 

For a little while, you watched Andy swim laps, his golden skin a contrast to the bright blue water. Leaning back on your hands, you kicked your feet idly as you watched him unabashedly, your eyes taking in the way his muscles shifted beneath his skin, the curve of his trim waist and the perfect flex of his ass and thighs.

When he finally came to a stop, treading water in the middle of your pool, he looked around and grinned when he found you sitting on the edge. Swimming over, his hands gripped the lip of the pool on either side of your hips, a shameless grin on his handsome face. 

Andy made a show of looking at you, his eyes lingering on the plushness of your thighs pressed against the stone edge before dragging slowly up to your tits and peaked nipples. His gaze felt like a physical caress, it was so intent on your body, and your tits bounced a little as your breathing quickened.

Finally, Andy’s eyes collided with yours, and you sucked in a gasp at the sheer amount of heat in his gaze. It perfectly matched the desire burning in your belly. You wanted to jump him so bad, but you tried to act as if you were indifferent to the hot older man in front of you.

“How’s the pool? Refreshing?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from the tension swirling thickly around you and your neighbor. However, your voice was so breathless, you still sounded as if you were panting like you were in heat. 

Andy noticed, the corner of his mouth curving up into a ridiculously self-satisfied smirk. The expression was so distinctly masculine, it made your core clench and you squirmed a little, pressing your thighs together for some semblance of relief. 

“It’s perfect,” he purred and you nearly trembled at the seductive heat in his voice. “And it’s even nicer with you sitting on the edge, looking so pretty in your little swimsuit while you watch me.”

“Andy.” His name was a helpless exhalation, your heart racing faster in your chest the longer you stared at your handsome neighbor. Up close, you could see the fine lines around his blue eyes, and a little smattering of gray in his beard. 

The evidence of Andy Barber’s age was a reminder that he was older than you, but it also made him all the more handsome in your eyes. You swayed toward him, pushing your tits out as if in offer, and he let out a little growl of desire.

“What do you want, sunshine—want to give me some of those pointers on how to improve my show,” Andy began, his voice as low and rough as gravel. “Or do you want to join me in the pool and let me get some hands-on experience with how to please you?”

Your brows winged up and your eyes widened with delight at the second option Andy presented. It didn’t take you more than a second of thought to decide you wanted your neighbor’s hands on your body—and you hoped desperately that led to his cock in your cunt.

The question was barely out of Andy’s mouth before you were slipping into the pool. He stepped back and straightened his arms to give you room, but didn’t move his hands from the edge of the pool. That meant that as you slid into the water, your body rubbed against his bigger, sturdier frame.

Andy held your gaze the entire time, your body rioting with sensation at the drag of his hard muscles against your softer, plusher body. His blue eyes darkened and it felt like your skin was engulfed in flames, even as the cool water of the pool swirled around you.

Once your toes touched the bottom of the pool, Andy crowded you into the side, pinning you between the tiled wall and his hard body. Your hands rested on his biceps, distractedly learning the curve of his muscles, and you gasped softly when his bulge brushed against your belly.

“This is what you do to me, sunshine,” Andy murmured, his voice low as he pressed his hips forward, digging his hard bulge deeper into your softness. “You’ve been driving me wild all summer, making me fuck my first more than I have since I was a teenager.”

“Mm, it made me so wet knowing you were watching me,” you teased, winding your arms around his broad shoulders and lifting your legs to circle his waist. “I would’ve been more than happy to help you with your predicament, Mr. Barber.”

Your core settled against his thick bulge and you closed your eyes as pleasure burst through your body, a soft, helpless moan slipping from your lips. He felt so big and thick, you knew he was going to fit inside you perfectly, and your body was already aching for exactly that. 

Andy’s growl brought you back to the moment. “Stop calling me Mr. Barber like you’re the naughty girl next door,” he rumbled, his hands falling from the edge of the pool to grab your hips. He rubbed you shamelessly against his bulge, wringing a moan from you. “Or are you calling me that because what you really want is to call me daddy.”

Your pussy clenched and you clung tighter to Andy, humping against his bulge while you moaned in his ear, “Fuck, daddy, your cock feels so big and hard against my pussy.” You dragged your slit down the length of his dick, the scrap of fabric of your bikini already slipping to one side. “What are you gonna do about it?”

With a tortured groan, Andy captured your lips in a kiss, stealing the filthy words from your tongue and plundering your mouth for all you were worth. His fingers yanked on the strings of your top until he could pull it free and toss it onto the patio.

Then Andy was groping your tits and grunting his satisfaction into your mouth. His hands were so big and strong, his deft fingers pinching and plucking at your nipples, wringing soft moans and desperate whines from your mouth, which he greedily swallowed down.

Andy was quick to figure out what made your breath hitch and what had you moaning helplessly into his kiss; he put that knowledge to good use, turning you into a writhing mess in his arms.

All you could do was hold onto him, your arms tightening around his shoulders, your fingers carding through his soft brown hair. You raked your nails down his neck and across his shoulders, enjoying the way he shuddered against your body.

Andy’s mouth broke from yours to trail kisses down your jaw, nipping and teasing your throat while his beard rasped deliciously against your skin. It sent tingles of pleasure dancing through your body, leaving you to hump mindlessly against his bulge.

“Oh god, Andy, I need more,” you cried, burying your face in the base of his neck, mouth suckling on the skin just above his collarbone. He tasted like salt and chlorine and you didn’t think you’d ever get enough. “Please, daddy, I need you.”

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you, sunshine?” Andy rumbled with a deep chuckle, the vibration teasing between your thighs. You rocked your hips, grinding harder against his bulge while he played with your tits. “Why don’t you tell daddy exactly what you need, and then maybe I’ll give it to you.”

You huffed a petulant sound at the teasing in Andy’s tone, but lifted your head to look him in the eye. You were gratified to see he was just as wrecked with lust as you were, and a smile flirted around the edges of your mouth at the realization that you were both in this moment together.

“I need you to fuck me, daddy,” you said plainly, growing impatient with all the games you’d played that summer. You felt like he’d been edging you for months, and you were ready for a good, hard pounding. “I need you to split me open on your fat cock and fuck me like a slut. I’ve waited so long—please, Andy, give it to me. I need it—I need you.”

“Oh fuck, baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Andy groaned, kissing you again. His hands slid down your sides, fingers tearing at the strings of your bikini until the scrap of fabric was finally wrenched away. In the next moment, he was shoving his boxer briefs down, freeing his hard length.

Then Andy was lining up the head of his cock with your tight entrance, dragging the tip through your soaked folds. You were already drenched and dripping for him before you’d even gotten in the pool, and all the grinding against his bulge had only made you needier. 

Still, when he began pressing inside, it stole the breath from your lungs. 

“Oh god, Andy, yes, give it to me,” you babbled quietly in Andy’s ear, barely enough air to get the words out. You held him tight in your arms while he lowered your hips onto his cock, slowly impaling you on his thick length. “Daddy, daddy, please!”

“Jesus fuck, baby,” Andy grunted, shunting his hips forward until half his cock was hilted inside you. A high-pitched squeak tumbled from your lips and pleasure coursed through your body, pleasure singing in your blood at the burn of him stretching you open.

Distantly, you were aware that you were still in your backyard, which only offered an illusion of privacy, so you buried your face in Andy’s beard, muffling a moan into the coarse, dark hair. He was so big and thick inside you, making room in your tight cunt for his fat cock, that you were trembling in his arms from how good it felt. 

“Y’alright, sunshine?” Andy asked, one of his hands stroking up and down your spine in a soothing gesture. 

You nodded into his neck. “Feels sooo good, daddy,” you murmured, enjoying the way his cock twitched at the endearment. “Deeper, daddy, need you deeper, all the way—want you to fill up my tight cunt with your big daddy cock.”

Andy groaned like he was being tortured, but he grabbed your hips and pulled you all the way down on his cock. You stifled a scream into his beard, your mouth biting into his jaw through the coarse hair and making him grunt, his cock twitching inside you.

For a long, hazy moment you let your body adjust to the feeling of Andy’s cock buried inside you. It was such an intense feeling of fullness, and you already knew you’d never get enough of it. Andy Barber could stuff you full of his cock every day of your life and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Before too long, though, you grew impatient for the friction your body craved. You squirmed against Andy, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, but he pinned you more firmly against the side of the pool, keeping his cock buried deep in your tight cunt.

“Gimme a minute, sunshine,” Andy rumbled, his voice warm with affection as he pressed kisses to your cheek before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. When he pulled away, his forehead pressed to yours. “I wanna savor this—the first time daddy’s cock is buried in his baby girl’s cunt.”

The filthiness of his words had a delicious shiver skating down your spine and an obscene moan slipping from your lips. You didn’t know which of you closed the distance between your mouths, but in the next breath you were kissing desperately, making out with your hot older neighbor in your pool while you were impaled on his cock. 

By the time Andy slowed the kiss, your body had relaxed in his arms. You were draped loosely around his sturdy frame, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, nails raking through the hair at the nape of his neck, and your legs wound around his waist, ankles resting on the curve of his ass.

“That’s a good girl,” Andy cooed in your ear, smoothing his hands up and down your bare back. “Just keep daddy’s cock warm for a minute while he makes sure he doesn’t come too soon.”

Despite the loose, relaxed feeling in your limbs, you snickered into Andy’s beard. “Really showing your age, old man,” you teased, purposefully clenching around his cock and wringing a grunt from your neighbor.

He pulled back and gave you the harshest glare he could muster, which wasn’t harsh at all. If anything, it was adorable. But you gave Andy a sweet kiss all the same in apology. 

“I like it,” you murmured into his mouth, letting the truth spill freely. “I like knowing I have such an effect on you.”

Andy’s mouth curved into a smile against yours, and you could practically taste the affection on his lips. “You have no idea, sunshine, the effect you have on me,” he said, his words sounding like a promise. 

Before you could ask him what he meant, his hands were sliding under your ass and he began to move you on his cock. Your body was buoyed by the water, making you basically weightless, and Andy used that to his advantage, lifting you up and pulling you down on his hard length. 

“Be a good girl and take it, sunshine, take my cock like the pretty little slut I know you are,” he growled, fucking you in hard, deep strokes. With every thrust, the tip of his cock brushed against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars, and you gave yourself over to the sensation.

You threaded your fingers in Andy’s hair, holding on tight as he fucked you, enjoying the feeling of his thick cock dragging in and out of your tight pussy. When he hiked you up higher against his chest, his head ducking down so he could lick and suck at your tits, you squealed, the sound dissolving into a moan.

Curling around Andy’s big body, you buried your face in the crown of his head, trying to muffle your sounds of pleasure. You’d remembered far too late that even though the trees around your property shielded your yard from view, there was nothing stopping the noises of you and Andy fucking from carrying on the breeze.

Thankfully, it was still early on a Sunday morning, and most of the neighborhood wasn’t awake yet. Otherwise, you had no doubt someone would’ve been calling in a noise complaint to the HOA.

The pleasure in your core coiled tighter as you rushed toward your release. When your pussy was fluttering around Andy’s cock, he yanked you back down into the water and pinned you against the wall of the pool, pounding into you relentlessly. 

All you could do was take it, clinging on to Andy while he fucked you, moaning helplessly with every brutal thrust of his cock in your tight pussy. It wasn’t long before you were close, the sounds spilling from your lips becoming more and more high-pitched and desperate. 

“Daddy, please, cum inside me,” you begged, burying your face in his beard and whining your need into his sun-warmed skin. “I’m on birth control, just pump me full—please, Andy.”

“Fuck, yes, baby, daddy’s gonna fill you up,” Andy groaned, grinding his hips between your thighs. The movement had his cock stroking that spot inside you, his pelvic bone rubbing against your clit. “Cum for me, sunshine, wanna feel your perfect cunt milking my dick dry while your pussy sucks all the cum from my balls.”

“Oh god, Andy,” you cried, teeth sinking into his shoulder to muffle the piercing scream that spilled from your throat as you came. Your body convulsed in your neighbor’s arms, pleasure overwhelming your mind until all that was left was you and him and his cock inside your clenching pussy.

Your release triggered Andy’s, and he came a moment later, his mouth pressed against the side of your throat as he groaned his pleasure. You felt the bite of his teeth and it only sent your pleasure spiralling higher, making your release last even longer. 

Through your haze of pleasure, you felt Andy’s cock twitch as he spilled rope after rope of cum inside your pussy, painting your inner walls white. He groaned against your neck and held you crushed to his chest, his hips jerking as your body wrung every last drop from his cock.

It was everything you’d wanted—better even than all the fantasies you’d had about Andy Barber all summer, because it was real. He was really in your arms, his cock coming inside you, claiming you, his mouth murmuring sweet, possessive words against your skin.

“My girl, my sweet girl, my perfect girl.”

You hid your smile in Andy’s beard, nails digging into his skin as you clung on to him, your bodies writhing together and eking out every bit of pleasure you could. 

When you were both finally spent and exhausted, Andy carried you over to the tiled steps in your pool and collapsed, keeping both of your bodies submerged in the cool water. He leaned back, and you sprawled across his broad body, enjoying the feeling his chest hair teasing your nipples.

“Was that worth the wait, sunshine?” Andy asked, a hint of insecurity in his voice that had your heart clenching in your chest. His hands were lovingly stroking your back, but you could feel the tension in his body.

You lifted your head from where it had been laying against this shoulder and cupped Andy’s handsome face in your hands. Your fingers teased through his beard, nails scratching lightly at the skin beneath. He practically purred at the feeling and you had to bite back a bigger grin.

“It was everything I’d waited all summer for,” you said honestly, ducking forward and capturing Andy’s mouth in a sweet, decadent kiss. When you pulled away, you couldn’t stop yourself from adding a snarky comment: “I’m still waiting for you to ask me out, though.” 

Andy chuckled against your mouth, giving your ass an affectionate squeeze before his hand slid up your spine and wrapped around the back of your neck. He pulled you in for a kiss, this one all happy smiles and teasing nips. When you were sufficiently breathless, he finally pulled away. 

“Can I take you out to dinner tonight, sunshine?” he asked, a small smirk on his lips. 

You knew he had a right to look and sound self-satisfied—you were, after all, going to say yes. But you made a show of making him sweat a little. Leaning back, you tapped your chin, acting like you were checking your schedule in your head and thinking it over.

Andy chuckled at your antics and waited patiently, though he did start rocking his hips, fucking you in shallow, grinding thrusts that had your head going hazy with renewed pleasure. 

Finally, after another moment of his teasing rocking, you put Andy out of his misery. “I’d like that,” you said, your voice more than a little breathless, before leaning in for another kiss.

Andy’s relief and happiness were palpable as he kissed you. His mouth moved slowly, methodically, against yours, and it took you a moment to realize what he was doing—that he was deliberately exploring your body, taking the time you hadn’t given him earlier to learn you.

With a smile that he licked from your mouth, you settled in on Andy’s lap, kissing him back and reveling in the knowledge that you had all the time in the world to explore him and learn him in return. After so long spent dreaming about your neighbor, you were going to take your time getting to know him, and his body, better.

You spent the rest of the morning with Andy Barber, enjoying the refreshing coolness of the pool and the rekindling heat between your bodies. For a while, you kept his cock warm while you sat in his lap in the pool. When he was ready for another round, you rode him lazily, delighting in the pleasure of his cock inside you.

After, you recovered together on one of the sun loungers on your patio, where you told him about all the books you’d read that summer and he’d opened up about himself. The sun was dipping low in the sky, the afternoon bleeding into evening when you finally parted ways.

That evening, Andy took you out to a nice dinner, and you discovered you didn’t need to be wearing a skimpy bikini for him to rake his eyes appreciatively over your body. You just needed to be you.

Despite how much you’d talked during the day, you and Andy didn’t run out of conversation topics at dinner, and it was an enjoyable date. So enjoyable, in fact, that you went home with him afterward—though nothing much happened.

After such a long day spent in the sun, the two of you ended up falling asleep on the couch together instead of continuing what you’d begun in the pool that morning. At some point in the night, Andy led you up to his bedroom, and you fell back to sleep together, entirely entwined.

You woke the next morning with a smile on your face and Andy’s arms wrapped around your body. There was an autumn chill in the air, so you snuggled deeper into his chest, enjoying the way his arms tightened around you and held you close.

As summer turned to fall, your relationship with the hot older man next door deepened and turned into something profoundly meaningful. Andy Barber went from being a good neighbor to a good boyfriend—and, eventually, he became a good husband.

part 1 ☀️ part 2 ☀️ part 3