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Zayne gives the most intense orgasms simply because he’s not afraid to get messy- he will literally dig into your hole till he finds the spot he knows houses the bundle of nerves he wants to stimulate for an orgasm that almost knocks you out. And then he’ll brutalise that spot;
The moment he has you spread open- thighs pushed wide, knees nearly to your chest- he sinks two fingers deep in one smooth thrust, searching with the calm focus of a man who has memorized every map of your body. The wet, obscene sound of him working into you is immediate and absolutely lewd. He curls, presses, drags the pads of his fingers along your walls until he finds it: that swollen, spongy spot that makes your spine snap tight and a broken moan rip from your throat.
“There,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, almost clinical. “That’s the one.”
Then he latches on to it.
No amount of begging or scratching will make him relent as he stimulates you incessantly- not the sloppy, cruel fingering popularised by cheap pornography, but in firm, methodical and purposeful movements that bring about the pleasure that drowns the pain of overstimulation, never once loosing their surgical precision even as desire mounts.
He anchors his other hand on your lower belly, pressing down to hold your squirming hips in place while he strokes that bundle of nerves with slow, deliberate drags. Each press-and-rub is firm enough that pleasure borders on pain, slow enough that you feel every ridge of his rough fingertips, the rough texture of his surgeon's callouses. The pressure builds like a storm gathering behind your eyes. Your walls flutter and clamp around him, but he doesn’t slow. He simply adjusts the angle and keeps going, relentless.
You buck. You claw at his wrist, nails digging crescents into his skin. “Zayne-fuck!!... too much, I can’t-”
“You can.” His voice is calm, almost gentle, even as his fingers piston against that spot with an almost sadistic flair. “Breathe through it. Let it take you.”
The overstimulation burns, white-hot and overwhelming, but beneath it the pleasure is molten. It drowns everything. Your thighs shake violently. Slick gushes around his knuckles, dripping down to soak the sheets, coating his palm, running down his forearm in shiny trails.
He doesn’t care.
He never flinches from the mess. If anything, the wetter and filthier you get, the darker his eyes become, mouth open as he wonders just how can you drip so much just from his fingers.
A third finger joins the first two. The stretch is sudden and perfect. He curls all three against that spot in tight, rhythmic presses- almost like he’s milking it- and your vision whites out.
The orgasm crashes into you so hard your back arches clean off the bed, a silent scream caught in your throat. Your walls spasm violently around his fingers, but Zayne doesn’t stop. He keeps stroking, firm and steady, dragging every last pulse out of you until you’re sobbing, shaking, gushing helplessly on his hand.
Only when your voice cracks into a wrecked whimper does he finally ease off- just enough to let you breathe, never fully pulling out. His fingers stay buried deep, gently petting your fluttering walls while you twitch and leak on him.
He leans down, lips brushing your ear to plant a fluttering kiss that seems more mocking than soothing, voice rough with restrained lust.
“So good for me...see? I told you you'd like it." he says before straightening up. "But that was only the first one. I’m nowhere near done finding out how many times I can make you break tonight.”
He smiles, and you shudder, your legs falling open helplessly even though you have no energy left.
"It's okay," he slurs over and over as you roll against him. "S'okay. Gege's got you."
You're tangled around each other, skin to skin. With his arm wrapped around your shoulders and your leg draped over his waist, it's hardly possible to be closer.
That doesn't stop him trying.
The tips of his fingers brush over your cunt over and over as he palms your ass like he might be able to drag you tighter against him, aiding your rolling hips.
His hums sound like soothing answers to the desperate little sounds you make into his mouth. He's all-consuming, indulgent, relentless. The sloppy lazy cadence of it might put you to sleep if you weren't so desperate to feel him inside you.
He'd never been inside.
So when he slips his aching cock up against your exposed cunt and holds it there as you grind against each other, your heart practically beats out of your chest.
The hot length of him slips over your soppy cunt over and over as eager anticipation sends shivers through your whole body.
"S'okay," he slurs again as you tremble in his arms. "This is what it's made for, mm?" He rolls his hips in one long glide as he presses his hard length firmly against you, coating himself in your slick. "Made for this. Gege's cock was made for this pretty pussy." He bites your lip gently. "Gege is just for you."
Seemingly satisfied with your responding mewl, he applies a little more pressure to the underside of his tip as you continue rolling into him. Gently, in a way that almost seems accidental, he guides himself to dip inside your entrance as his hot breath tickles your lips.
You freeze.
"Just there," he breathes.
Then, he watches your face with rapt attention as he rolls his hips to meet you—sinking into your wet heat with a broken groan. There's a pause afterwards, a mutual indulgence in the delicious release of tension built over years and years as you clench rhythmically around him.
He's the first to break it.
His eyes stay locked on yours as he grips you firmly, fingers digging into soft skin, and tugs you onto his cock with each undulation of his hips. It's a sensual, languid claiming, following a kind of lazy cadence to mirror the way he'd kissed you.
But when you close the tiny space between your mouths and whisper "I love you" against his sodden lips, he whimpers. It's followed shortly after by a full body tremor.
It's different after that.
He wraps his arms tight around you, buries his face in your shoulder, and begins surging up into you—rasping breaths tickling your skin as he gives himself over to long-repressed hunger.
Part 1 with the other 5 and the art that inspired this.
🔞CW: Dry humping. Dirty talk. Self love. Smut.🔞
Infold, give us our wolf back! Please!
A special thanks to @stardustsirens, I love your beautiful brain 😚
Twenty minutes. You'd been gone twenty minutes before you turned around, halfway to work, because your work folder was still sitting on the kitchen counter.
Valko had stayed the night, though not the way anyone would assume. You'd cooked too late, ended up on the couch watching movies until midnight and the idea of him driving home just to come back in a few hours was ridiculous. So he'd stayed. Folded that huge body of his onto your couch—which was built for exactly one normal sized human—insisting he was fine even though you both knew his neck would hate him for it in the morning. He hadn't so much as brought up sharing your bed. That line was still there between you, respected without either of you having to say so out loud.
Your living room was empty now. The throw blanket sat balled up at one end of the couch, still warm, still carrying that earthy scent that clung to him. You figured he'd finally given up trying to get comfortable and left for home.
Things had been tight between you two for weeks — not bad tight, just like the kind that builds when you're close to someone in every way but one. Curling up next to him on that couch last night, close enough to feel him breathing, had taken more out of you than you wanted to admit. You'd gone to your own bed after and tossed for hours, finally giving up and finishing yourself off against your pillow just to get some sleep.
You grabbed the folder off the counter, shoved it in your bag, turned toward the door already dreading the way back to work.
Your foot stopped.
Through the crack in your bedroom door came a sound — low, cut off at the edges like it hadn't meant to get out. A hitch of breath, rough with something needy.
You don't move. For a few long seconds you just stand there, blood rushing in your ears, telling yourself you imagined it. Then it comes again—louder, unmistakable. A deep, broken whine bleeding through the door, underneath it the slow, rhythmic creak of your mattress.
Something hot drops straight to your navel.
Your feet move before you decide to let them, carrying you to the gap where the door hinges open. You don't need to push it. You can see everything
Valko is on your bed, completely stripped of the restraint he usually carries around you.
On all fours, every muscle in his back straining with each roll of his hips. Both your pillows are underneath him. One is pinned between his thick, heavy thighs. The other is crushed against his chest like he's holding onto it for dear life.
The fat tip of his cock is already leaking clear precum, smearing wetly against the fabric with every thrust. The muscles of his ass bunch and flex rhythmically, his tail swishing low and frantic from side to side, brushing against his calves like he can't control it.
His nose is buried deep into one specific corner of the pillow, taking big lunges of air—sniffing the hell out of it. Strands of saliva string from his parted lips, his eyes are squeezed shut so tight his eyelashes tremble. He looks like he's desperately trying to engrave that scent into the deepest part of his memory.
The heat that floods your face is scorching and mortifying.
That's where you'd been last night. Grinding against that exact spot, face buried in your own sheets with his name stuck in your throat, thinking thoughts you'd never planned on anyone knowing about. He has his nose pressed right there. Breathing you in like it's the first clean air he's found in days.
The hallway feels like it's closing in. You can't move. The folder is shaking in your hand and you can't make yourself look away.
Valko moves his hips down again and the groan that tears out of him is nothing like his usual voice. It's scraped raw, stripped of every careful thing he usually puts between himself and the world.
"Fuck—" The word drags out of him slow and broken. His face presses deeper into the pillow, lips parting against the fabric, inhaling so hard it pulls into his mouth. "Smells so good. So fucking sweet"
Your stomach drops.
When he pulls back to thrust again you get an unobstructed view of him, and your mouth goes dry. He's huge, veins mapping his cock in thick ridges, the head flushed a deep red and slick with everything he's been leaking onto your pillow.
"There you go," he breathes, eyes still squeezed shut, hips rolling down in a slow, grinding push. He's talking to the pillow. He's talking to you—or the idea of you, the ghost of you he's got his hands on. "Take it just like that. Let me get all the way inside that pretty cunt, puppy."
He makes that sound again—a high, needy whine that has no business coming out of something so big—and his ears flatten tight against his skull. His rhythm stutters, slow grinds breaking into something harder and more desperate, the whole bed frame groaning with it.
"Such a good pup," he mutters, tail thrashing wild against the mattress, fingers curling into your pillow. His voice is getting rougher, darker, words spilling out like he can't stop them. "Gonna stretch you out so nice. Fill you up with everything I've been—" A sharp, punched out groan. "You'd take it, wouldn't you? Every single bit of it."
His thighs grip the pillow tightly, his whole body going rigid as he grinds down and holds it there. His knuckles are stark white, fingers curled past the point of grip, something closer to desperation made physical. You can see the effort it's taking him to hold back. Every thick vein along the back of his hands stands out in rigid relief, branching up his wrists, mapping the strain all the way to where his forearms flex with each movement.
With every snap of his hips the tension climbs higher. Up his biceps and across his broad shoulders, the whole architecture of him pulled tight. He is holding the pillow like letting go for even a second would mean losing the last thread of you he has access to.
Like if his grip slips, your scent goes with it.
His hands have never looked like this. You've seen them steady holding a weapon, calm giving an order, certain in every situation that called for certainty. Right now they're shaking slightly. Not from weakness.
But from the effort of not having the real thing.
The ache between your thighs is unbearable and the urge hits you like something physical, pressing into your sternum until your body stops listening to your brain entirely. You want to tell him yes. You want to walk into that room and pull those pillows out from under him and put yourself there instead.
Your foot moves forward one step.
That's all it takes. The tiny shift in air carries your scent right through the gap in the door—laced now with the edge of your arousal—and delivers it straight to him.
Valko goes completely still.
His ears snap upright, swiveling toward the door, and his head follows a half second later. Through the narrow crack his eyes find yours instantly, pupils blown so wide the gold of his irises is almost gone. The room sits heavy with the smell of sex and the sound of both of you breathing.
He doesn't cover himself and your eyes drop without your permission.
The sight of you watching him—your scent hitting him fresh and full—is what does it. You watch it happen. His cock swells further, skin pulled tight, a low growl tearing out of his chest and his hips give one last involuntary roll forward.
He cums with his eyes locked on yours the entire time.
He stares straight through the gap in the door, unblinking, holding your gaze with an intensity that makes your legs feel unreliable, as the first thick streak of white paints your pillow. Another spasm rolls through him, another rope of cum landing heavy over the exact spot your scent had soaked into the fabric last night. Over and over until the last bead clings to the tip and stretches thin before finally dropping.
His chest heaves and his tongue drags slowly across his lower lip and then his canines like he's tasting the air. His tail gives one long, heavy thump against the mattress.
He's still staring a hole right through you.
You are completely fucked.
And while we're here @ekay-i .... PLEASE🙏🏻. Valko deserves a spot in the pillow humpers art. i am begging on my knees 🧎🏻♀️🫣
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tw: age gap (reader is early 20s, toji is early 40s)
mdni! 🔞
“such a good girl, baby. fuck..” toji murmured, his hands on your hips as you straddled his waist. “way too good for an old man like me…”
you’re currently naked in your boyfriends lap, your arms loosely wrapped around his neck as you took his length inside of you.
he’s so big, pulsing and making your walls burn in the best way possible. you’re whining, clenching tight around his dick as you slide up and sink back down.
he’s leaning back against the headboard, looking up at you with half lidded, lazy eyes.
you’re so close to him that you can see the grey hair in his stubble that he tries so hard to keep out of your sight. he doesn’t want you to see him aging like this while you stay young and lively and fun.
you’re growing more and more exhausted, but his big, calloused hands on your hips are helping to guide you up and down.
“mngh… t-toji.. m’tired.” you whine, your movements slowing. you both were on the cusp of your orgasms, but your thighs were aching and burning, and every time he pushed in fully, it practically knocked the wind out of you.
“i know, sweetheart.” he whispered lowly, his voice rough. one of his hands snaked up your spine, cradling the back of your head and pulling you down into a deep kiss. “keep going f’me. i know you can.” he whispered against your lips.
his hand that had been on your hip moved down to your ass, smacking it gently before squeezing at the soft flesh.
you yelped from the mixture of pain and pleasure, the feeling giving you enough energy to move your hips again with his guidance.
“too much…” you whine, but you continue to move at a steady pace, your head dropping to rest in his neck. the stubble on his jaw scratched against your temple as you moved.
“just like that baby.. you’re doing so good. just a little more.” he muttered, his voice becoming rougher as his orgasm grew closer.
you felt a warmth tingling in your lower stomach, making your toes curl. toji could practically sense that, his fingers moving down to slowly, yet firmly, play with your clit, making you jolt.
“m’gonna cum.. mmf- toji, k-keep doing that…” you whimpered, rocking your hips faster, pulling suppressed groans from his lips.
“cum for me, baby. you worked so hard my sweet girl.” his free hand gently held the back of your head, still buried in his neck.
his words tipped you over, and you came with a loud cry, squeezing impossibly tight around him.
he followed right after you (always making sure you finish first, of course), his sticky release filling you up.
the two of you just sat there for a few minutes, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your bare back, whispering to you about how good you were while you hid your face in his neck.
even though your boyfriend was getting older, and his stamina might not be what it used to be, all he could do was hope that you wouldn’t grow tired of him.
he knows someone like you, young, sweet, and gorgeous, could have anyone you’d like. he didn’t deserve you, and sometimes he questioned why you even loved him.
but moments like this, when he was holding you and making you feel good, toji fushiguro, a man who never felt deserving of anything, really felt like he could just be with someone for once.
||a/n: this got kinda sad at the end soz lol
anyway i’m replaying silent hill 2 rn and i just luv james so much poor baby
you furrowed your brows at sylus’ question, your phone was posed between your hands, angling it towards the michelin course that was in front of you, finger on the touchscreen, ready to take a picture.
“do what?”
sylus gestures vaguely to your phone.
“take pictures of the food.” sylus answers, you give him a sheepish smile.
“i like taking pictures of the food before i eat it, i’m immortalizing the visual before i devour it.”
sylus snorts, shaking his head fondly, but he doesn’t say anything more as he lets you take photos of your meal in all angles until you are satisfied.
while you were engrossed in your little photoshoot, you failed to see sylus take his phone out and angle it towards you, waiting for the moment your lips pout in concentration before he snaps the photo.
not realizing that he was a grandpa with technology, the shutter sound caught your attention. not that it mattered.
“sylus, what’re you doing? you should’ve told me! i wasn’t ready.”
sylus looks at the photo he took, lips twitching into a smirk.
“just as you said, sweetie.”
he lifts his head to meet your eyes.
“i’m immortalizing the visual before i devour her tonight, kitten.”
zuko tries to hold out, the poor thing, he truly does but when he has you on your stomach, hips propped up with a pillow, he loses it a little bit. his hands on your waist tighten as he ruts faster, the pleasure shooting through him as he fucks your sopping cunt. you’re done, spent through and through, given all control to your husband as he desperately chases his own release but he wants just one more from you. another orgasm to rip through you as you clench on his cock to have him cumming with you but as you tilt your hips higher, and reach back to pull your cheeks apart to have the lewd display of him fucking in and out of you fully visible he loses all sense of control.
his movements stutter, his voice trembling with heavy breaths. “ohh fuck- spirits, i-“ he can’t look away, too entranced on the way you suck him in, the white cream that rings the base of his cock, the way your ass ripples with each thrust.
“sweetheart, i’m gonna-“ he can’t even make it through the sentence before he is stilling in you, cumming so heavy and deep you feel warmth fill your belly. you can feel him twitch inside you, emptying himself out to you. he never wants to leave the warmth of you, wants to live within you forever and ever and he does, to a certain extent, he lets himself soften within your gummy walls, lets his heart return to a normal rhythm, his skin to cool back into neutrality and then and only then does he slip from your heat. he watches as a mix of his and your cum oozes from within you, thick white globs sliding down your puffy lips. he should fuck it back inside, push it so deep within you that he knocks you up but instead he drags a finger through, collecting it on the tip of his index.
“open.” he instructs, lifting his hand towards your face as if he were presenting a sweet treat and not evidence of your debauchery. you follow his command opening your mouth to lick the digit clean. his chest tightens.
"you have the prettiest pussy," aang murmurs, reverent in the way he's touching it with the most gentle caress. his fingers graze over swollen lips, spread them wide so he can stare at a throbbing clit that's calling out to his mouth. "how is it so perfect? how are you so perfect?"
"shut up," you mumble, embarrassed with your hands covering your too-warm face. "just, hnngh, stop playing with it."
"but i love playing with her." aang feigns a pout, grey eyes flicking up to stare at you almost pitifully. "you're always hide your true emotions but she's more honest." as if on cue, your hole flutters and spills out a line of slick. "see? she's talking to me right now."
you aim a kick at his head, too flustered to aim which is his luck. he catches your foot, lays a kiss in its sole and smiles when you tremble. "that was mean," he tsks before settling your leg over his shoulder. "and to think i was gonna treat you so well too."
"you're annoying," you try to hiss but it tumbles out as a whimper when aang slides a finger through your soaked slit. "haah, i'm gonna—"
"gonna do what?" aang interrupts, using that same finger to rub teasing circles against your clit. the added slick only heightens his touch over the bundle of nerves and your hips are jerking up as you gasp, mouth dropping open. "kill me when this is done? you can try but i think you'd be too fucked out to do anything."
he sees that you're about to retaliate but aang doesn't let you, timing it just right as he fills your dripping hole with that finger still. the slight stretch has you stuttering, hands coming to clutch at the hem of your—his—shirt. your pussy clamps around his finger beautifully, his hard cock twitching in jealousy.
"what was that?" aang teases, starting a thrusting rhythm that has you squirming, sweet little whines escaping your throat. "did you want to say something?"
your pretty face has crumpled under mounting pleasure, a line of drool already pouring down your open mouth as you choke on a rather mean curl of his finger.
"mmm," you hum, panting as your grip on coherency already lost as you roll your hips onto his thrusting digit. "mmmhm—"
"good girl." aang kisses your inner thigh, adding another finger and thrusting in hard, smiling when your back arches sharply. "just relax and let me take care of you."
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18+ You could barely keep your eyes open, the heavy weight of the day’s work dragging them down. “My love… let me…” but you only moved harder, head falling forward, hair cascading around you.
Your hips drove down with surprisingly devastating force for someone who could barely drag themselves through the front door only thirty minutes ago.
“Q-quit talking.” You rasp, fingers curling against Zayne’s pecs, leaving little crescent shaped indents in his pink flushed skin. You were beyond tired, body screaming for you to collapse and maybe just let him take care of it all for the both of you.
But your frustrations were winning out.
If Zayne hadn’t seen it for himself, he would’ve reprimanded you for being such a brat right now. But he knew that whatever this was? It was needed. You needed him, you needed this. So, he’d indulge.
His lips remained sealed, hands splaying across the fat of your ass — holding not assisting. Every drop of your hips had his head spinning, cock throbbing deliciously in the warmth of your velvety soft cunt. You were soaked, had been soaked, you had shoved him down on the mattress and refused to let him do anything to prepare yourself.
He couldn’t gather why until you had plopped yourself down on him, the moan that left him had nearly been a whimper. Despite the burn in your thighs, the ache in your abdomen as his tip kissed your cervix, the black spots blurring your vision, you kept moving.
Every movement had pleasure thrumming through your veins, limbs trembling as you tried to find some sort of stability without crumbling into him entirely. Though, at this rate, you didn’t think Zayne would mind it very much if you did.
You managed to crane your neck upwards, carrying the impossibly heavy weight of your own head to look at the flushed face of your husband. “Zayne, m’gonna cum.” Your eyes were shutting as you spoke, your cunt clenching desperately as you tried to dive head first into your release before giving out all together.
Despite your previous warnings, Zayne’s hands tightened on your bottom, dragging you down and holding you tightly. You cried out, the pressure of him filling you so fully had stars littering your eyes.
He started rocking you, grinding your puffy, sensitive cunt into his groin. The sensations enough to finally, finally bring you the release you so desperately craved.
Zayne jumped slightly as you collapsed into him, completely dead weight. “Hey…” he nudged you, his own orgasm trailing off to the back of his mind as he tried to decipher if you passed out or simply fell asleep. “Leave it to you to cum and…” he brushes your hair aside, noting your color, your breathing, before concluding.
“…fall asleep before I can even pull out.”
Got that magic dih 🪄 put your ass right the fuck to bed yup 🙂↕️ of course this is the first thing I can write in a while and it’s dumb asf LMAOO but heyyyyyyy hope you enjoy :3
the couch creaked indecently, squeaking like it wanted to snap any moment soon. your breast bounced harshly, pairing with the clap of the flesh of your ass against his thighs, squelching lewdly each time you bottom out on his cock.
it was amusing how you managed to make caleb a moaning mess by simply taking the lead. though you were no different. you moan and chant his name like a mantra, too intoxicated by how his length stretched your hole out delectably. every gasp and cry’s a brazen confession of how his cock made you feel good.
“fuck—more—your cock—feel so—f-feel so good, caleb.” you gasp, your glossy eyes rolling back along with your sanity swirling into flurry as you continued plunging yourself onto his robust manhood like your life depended on it.
caleb on the other hand couldn't help but answer your confessions with unrestrained whimpers. his slender fingers tangling, fisting your hair before tugging it harshly—desperation coursing through his veins. “thaaat’s right—fuck—atta girl…does my cock drives you crazy, hm?” he coos, the fresh warmth of his breath fanning against your tearstained skin, adding to the mind-blowing euphoric sensation.
you bit your lip, humming gutturally as an answer. “yes, yes—oh—so full of your—y-your cock!” your words were broken, too overwhelmed to speak fully that drool started trickling fork the corner of your lips.
fuck. it's that good.
what a lustful spectacle.
“oh my god, look at you—gonna make me come, pips—” his voice was shaky, ragged, desperation laced with it. caleb’s jaw tensed, forcing his gaze with yours burning with concentration as he met your harsh plunge.
“ah! f-fuck so deep—caleb!” you gasp from the sudden toe-curling sensation. every push forced his bluntness in the depths of your core—kissing that sweet spot that turned your mind haywire.
with the hardcore copulation happening, the relishing reciprocation of pain and pleasure continued until it hit him, “fuck—oh, pips, i’m gonna cum,” his impending climax approaching torturously fast. his grip on your waist tightened—he was breathless. “f-fuck—gonna come, pips—getoffgetoffgetoff—m gonna cum—shit—” he panicked with a pathetic whimper, his face contorting like he's in pain as he rolled his head back, clumsy hands attempting to hoist you off of him with his remaining strength.
you shook your head, chuckling and mewling as you bounced on his cock harder and faster, riding him further. “nooo, please. i want—i want it inside me, please —want you to fill me up so good, caleb.”
dear god. of course you’d say something like that while he's on the verge of filling you up. caleb felt his cock twitches, his hips finally stuttering as surrender. “oh, god...shit…” he whimpered as his body trembled. he held your hips still with an audible moan—a sign of releasing from the shackles of his restraints—he came.
you felt it, the warmth of him penetrating in soft ropes inside you, painting you in ivory just like you've wanted. you moaned, following suit, coating his cock with your glutinous essence.
he whimpered breathlessly, body twitching from the aftermath of euphoria. “ah fuck…pips, you're—you’re amazing…i love you so much…”
“m-hm..” you chuckle as you moved your hips back and forth, licking your lips indulging in the ecstatic tingling sensation he gave. “love you too…”
aang whimpering, "i'm sorry, i'm sorry," against your slack lips as he has you folded into the meanest mating press and is striking you where it's deepest, your back arching and your nails drawing red lines down his skin.
him being rough with you and feeling a little guilty about it because you're the love of his life, he adores treating you with the utmost gentleness and respect. but sometimes, aang sees how you react when he manhandles you, when he gets a bit rough. how your eyes darken and your breath hitches and he's just a man—a man who's incredibly weak for you.
so when he feels how your walls clench around him, clamping down harshly when he folds you in half and shoves in deep, aang is gone. when your eyes roll back and his name comes out choked in your throat, it ends him.
because while he apologises, he's still fucking you in a way that's guaranteed to leave you bruised and aching. but judging by the metaphorical hearts in your unfocused eyes and the gasping pleas of yes and more, he figures that you're more than okay with that.
18+ MDNI, established relationship, cunnilingus, fem! reader, man handling, sweetie aang, overstimulation, short n sweet.ᐟ
It’s the little things Aang consistently seems to take notice of when it comes to you, slate colored eyes always constantly observing the slight changes of your mind, body, and spirit.
He notices the way your nose twists up in displeasure when you sip tea that’s far too bitter for your tastes. The knowing tell your lower lip does when you catch on to a joke, the laughter blooming throughout your body into the prettiest giggle.
And the bedroom, he’s no different.
It starts the same. Aang’s head rests snuggly between your legs, planting delicate kisses to the inside of your thighs, fully revelling in the way you feel on his mouth.
“Perfect. So perfect.”
His ears focus in on the sounds you make when he places a final kiss to your soaked lips, your essence sugar on his tounge. As the conductor, he turns your gasps into breathtaking symphonies with each burst of pleasure he gives you, your body fully slacked in his grasp.
“Aang,” you inhale, your voice teetering on the edge from shyness to boldness, his mouth feeling a little too good to the point your unable to hold back much longer, sweat beading at your hairline.
He stills his breathing, allowing himself to listen to the little sounds that slip from your mouth, how they slowly build louder and louder.
He’s been toying with your orgasm for hours and your body begins to feel the ache, swollen clit pulsating between his swollen bottom lip. “Almost there sweetness.” He murmurs, tongue circling the button so soft it makes your body vibrate down to your bones, your nervous system haywire.
“Doing so good for me.” Aang’s honey soaked voice continues. Your sex is the altar he carnally desires to praise with his full devotion, taffy colored tongue expertly lapping up your sap as if you deserve it, because truthfully, you do.
His perfect, sweet girl, the one who truly feels like home in the elements surrounding him. When the ground moves beneath him, you're there to stabilize him and pick up the pieces of himself he can’t seem to find on his own.
“You’re s-so good to me,” you babble breathlessly. His mouth makes you feel like your floating, chest airy and belly soaring. Your gaze descends downwards, dizzy eyes looking down at the man you love bowing to you, but his eyes are already looking back at you.
Of course, he's watching.
He watches how you relax deeper into his tongue as he swipes it between your flesh, compared to how you squeak when he slowly traces his name on your clit, his way of searing his allegiance towards always being here for you, always making you feel valued.
The four letters he traces begin to make your cunt feel as if it’s on fire, body absentmindedly inching away from him and the feverish stimuli, your shoulders hitting the mahogany grain.
“Sweetheart, where are you going?” He mumbles, head shaking between your legs, dark brows furrowing.
The countless years of training have been favorable to him, the strong swollen muscles in his biceps pulling you back down to him. He maneuvers you around with a sheepish grin, raising your plush thighs high up into the air, his fingertips searing deep indents into the soft flesh.
“Come here, I got you.”
Your legs are urged to wrap around his head, and as if its muscle memory, your ankles lock seamlessly together on the back of his neck. You urge his mouth deeper past your swollen lips , his soft nose bumping your bundle of nerves.
“I’m close.” You sigh, the warm caress of your hand finding the top of his head, stopping just above his tattoo.
You’re shaking, hips jerking, thighs tensing. Rapidly, your hips begin to circle his face, your slick, slick, mound grinding perfectly against his slacked jaw.
“I know you are, I can always feel it.” His words are muffled in the strong grip of your thighs, yet he knows the exact face you're making, the countless times watching you come undone for him flicker in his mind, blurry visions of your eyes clamped shut, mouth wide open.
Aang brings two fingers up to your entrance, prodding the flesh of your aching hole. Softly, he presses them deep inside your velvet walls, notching them to the second knuckle. He lets the slick smoothly drift him up to your sweet spot, fingerprints setting a firm pace, the one that always makes you melt.
“Oh, right there!” You yell, voice roaring over the pooling blood pumping in his ears.
Your hands fumble in linen sheets, the homespun materials faltering beneath your palms with every fumble. You’re attempting to grip anything in front of you, seeking solace in the lush pleasure of Aang’s skilled mouth.
Aang notices, bringing his unoccupied hand to yours, fingers interlocking you into place. You take his hand roughly, squeezing with all the strength in your bones, because Aang can take it.
He’s strong enough to level a nation with the same hands that hold you down, the fingertips inside of you possessing the power to cause destruction and tear down every barrier he comes across, including the band in your belly.
“Cum for me love,” he coos, and instantly—you come undone.
“Aang!”
Your release snaps through you like a band bouncing back, soaking his face in rampant droplets of pleasure. Your thighs begin to shake, the rumbling waves crashing and rocking you, your body keening into him.
“Just like that.” He praises, guiding you through the feeling. Although, his mouth doesn’t let up on your clit, forcing the full feeling to soar up your legs and down your chest.
“T-Too much!” You yelp, knees pressing into his neck.
But he knows you can feel even better, so Aang keeps going until you stop jerking in his grasp, a tell tale sign the pain has blossomed back into pleasure.
“Give me another one, please?” He asks so nicely, yet his eager mouth is already swiping your sticky sex.
His sopping tongue is ready to make you fall over the edge time and time again, knowing his hands will be the ones to catch you every time you fall.
a/n: not my usual style but that seems to be the new normal for me now hehe i just loooovee how we all really fr grew up with aang :’)
you could do it on your own (while you're looking at me).
adult zuko x reader nsfw | smut | minors dni.
summary: after a long day trapped in meetings, zuko returns to his chambers only to find you already halfway undone by thoughts of him.
content: fire lord adult!zuko x fire lady reader, explicit sexual content [masturbation, watching/mutual pleasure, bit of dirty talk], steam/firebending imagery, pet names (“love”), established relationship.
note: this is what happens when i try writting a blurb, a short one-shot comes out - loosely inspired by ´sports car´ by tate mcrae, and s/o to fandom_fire on tiktok for the "lord" hc.
𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
It began with a memory.
You found yourself thinking about the way Zuko had looked that morning: the early sunlight tracing the edges his scar, the sharp line of his jaw as he fastened his belt, the lingering heat in his gaze before duty finally dragged him from your chambers. Even half-dressed and distracted by royal obligations, he had looked at you as though leaving you behind was a personal offense.
Then your thoughts drifted further back, to several nights before, when he had pulled you into the shadows of an empty corridor because, in his own strained words, he “couldn’t wait anymore.” One hand had braced against the wall beside your head while the other covered your mouth to swallow your cries, his desperation unraveling through every thrust until your knees had nearly given out beneath you.
Hours had passed since he’d disappeared into meetings. Dinner had come and gone without him, leaving the palace unbearably quiet. And alone in the privacy of your bedchambers, wrapped in silk and memory, your hand couldn't help but slip beneath your robe.
Your fingers found the slick heat between your thighs. Slowly, greedily, you began to touch yourself, chasing the ghost of his mouth, his hands, the weight of him. The memory alone made your breath falter.
You were so lost in it that you barely heard the heavy doors creak open.
Your head snapped up.
Zuko stood in the doorway, hair slightly disheveled as though he’d spent the evening dragging frustrated hands through it. His robes hung loose at the collar, and his amber eyes (usually controlled and unreadable in court) darkened the moment they landed on you. Your legs pressed together on reflex.
“Zuko, I—”
He crossed the room without a word.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he climbed onto the bed and moved toward you until he knelt at your side. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face with gentleness before trailing lower, covering the hand you had instinctively hidden between your thighs.
His mouth curved faintly.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he murmured. “Let me see what you do when you think about me.”
Heat flooded your face. Even so, you let him pull your hand away. Your fingers glistened with your own arousal, and his gaze lingered on them for only a moment before he brought them to his lips.
The sight of his tongue sliding across your skin made your stomach tighten.
His eyes fluttered shut briefly, a quiet shudder passing through him, and when he looked back at you, his expression had gone molten.
“Keep touching yourself,” he said under his breath. “I want you looking at me.”
You sank back against the pillows, your robe falling open completely as you obeyed. Silk pooled uselessly around your waist, leaving you bare, thighs parted just enough for him to see the evidence of your arousal between them.
He did not touch you. Instead, he reached down and freed his cock from his trousers, wrapping his fist around the shaft with a low exhale. It was thick and flushed, the head dark and wet. He began to stroke himself slowly, his gaze fixed on your body.
You watched the muscles of his stomach tighten, his lips part and his eyes glaze with lust which was more than enough for your fingers to resume their work, circling your clit with torturous slowness, matching his pace. A curl of steam escaped his lips. The sight of it sent a shiver through you.
"Zu—"
“Keep going,” he said, the words leaving his mouth in a breath warm enough to send another thin ribbon of heat through the air between you.
Your robes had long since ceased to be clothing. They were forgotten fabric, silk tangled around your elbows, bunched beneath your shoulders, clinging to the damp curve of your ribs like a second skin soaked through with sweat. The firelight around you caught the glisten on your collarbone, on your stomach, on the insides of your thighs. The heat from his mouth and his breathing turned the air thick and wet.
Your hair was everywhere, against the pillows, strands plastered to your temples, a few stuck to the corner of your lips. You hadn’t bothered to push them away. You couldn’t. Your hands were fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, your body growing steadily more restless beneath the weight of his attention.
“Faster,” he groaned softly, and his hand moved quicker on his cock. “Don’t even dare to slow down.”
You increased your rhythm, wet sounds filling the space between your ragged breaths. His strokes grew more urgent, and so did yours, each of you chasing the same release. Your waist was pressed flat to the mattress, your hips tilted up just slightly, enough to offer yourself fully. Your thighs were open wide, the muscles shaking, knees bent and falling apart. Your feet were planted on the bed, heels digging into the rumpled linen, toes curled as you arched into each stroke of your fingers.
"That's it," he rasped, his voice strained. "Don't look away. I want to see you, you look so ruined and beautiful, touching yourself in front of me."
Your thighs trembled harder, falling open as pleasure dragged through you in waves. Every movement of your fingers sent another pulse of heat through your body, tightening low in your belly until it almost hurt.
His hips began to thrust into his own fist, his composure cracking, his forehead beaded with sweat.
"Zuko… I'm so close," you whimpered, your fingers working desperately.
"Then come for me," he commanded, his strokes becoming erratic, matching the wild rhythm of your own. "Now."
Your body obeyed, convulsing as the orgasm broke over you, your cry dissolving into his name like a prayer. Your hips jerked against your hand as waves of pleasure rolled through you. Through blurred vision, you saw Zuko break with you.
A strained groan left him as his head tipped back, his hand pumping desperately before he spilled across your stomach in hot streaks. He shuddered through the release, heat ghosting from his mouth with every uneven breath.
His eyes never leaving yours, he lowered himself to his knees at the edge of the bed, hooked his arms under your thighs, and pulled you toward his mouth. The first stroke of his tongue through your soaked folds made your back curve against the mattress beneath you.
“Oh, lord…” you moaned softly.
“Yes, love?” he said smugly, the heat of his breath surrounding your aching thighs in slow waves. “If you started without me, it’s only fair that I finish it.”
Your fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue returned deeper and devastating. He began to feast on you, his grunts and the wet sounds of his devotion filling the room. He devoured you like a man starved, lapping at your folds, sucking your clit between his lips, pushing his tongue inside you until your thighs were shaking around his shoulders all over again.
𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹
note: i hope you liked itt! lmk if we like this format too or not at all. i didn't feel like writing a full shot or fic, so i tried a blurb out and this happened, curse or blessing? xx
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You collapse onto Aang's chest with a shaking moan, trembling violently as the last sparks of your orgasm crash into you like a tidal wave. You're panting into his sweat-slick skin, bruised cunt fluttering around his thick cock which is still hard and still thrusting into the sopping mess you've both made.
This should be the end—a sign to rest after he's filled you again. You're expecting him to slow down, grind his cum deeper until you can taste him in your throat. Then he'll gently lift you off his cock, groan as your cunt spills over his stomach and kiss you soundly before he takes such good care of you.
But Aang doesn't do that today—no, he doesn't slow down his thrusts so you both can rest. No, Aang continues fucking you, his hips pounding up into your used cunt and turning the last dregs of your orgasm into overstimulation that has you hiccuping. It verges on painful, overwhelming to a point your vision blurs around the edges. But then it turns into something sweeter, a heady cocktail that has you trying to escape.
Firm arms wrap around your back instantly, stopping your exit and you cry out when Aang's thrusts turn meaner. When they hit that spot inside you that has your cunt pulsing, cum-coated slick forming a frothy ring around the base of Aang's cock. They have you struggling against his hold, torturous ecstasy clawing at your nerves as your hands weakly push against his arms.
"I, I can't—" you slur pathetically, tears rolling down your heated cheeks. "Not again—please—"
"You can." Is all Aang breathes out, unrelenting as he slams up into your gaping cunt. One of his hands trail down to grasp at your ass, spreading a cheek wide so he can sink in deeper still. He groans, a pitched noise, as you convulse against him with your cunt clamping down on his length.
You shake your head, the weight of it heavy on your shoulders. Harsh sobs curl up your throat because overstimulation has turned into knife-sharp pleasure that spins a too strong coil in your lower stomach. You know what that means; it's an old friend though feels like an enemy with how powerful it's growing to be. It's going to devastate you and you aren't sure if you'll be able to survive it.
Aang needs to stop before you spiral hard.
You need to—
A particular hard thrust has you crying out, back arching against his arm and the coil in lower stomach tightening. Aang's responding whimper has it tightening further, his iron grip on your waist locking down as he begins to slam you down onto him with the hand he has on your ass.
His cock carves its path against your slick walls, strikes you hard and you're thrashing in his hold with an increasing volumes of ah ah ah's.
It's about to hit you, mercilessly, and you can't—
"You can." Aang's voice wavers, pleasure having gripped him fully. He's hazy-eyed, cheeks flushed and a small line of drool sliding down the corner of his mouth. He looks pussydrunk, drunk on you and how you're on your way to milking him dry. "You can—you can cum—again, my sweet girl, I know you can."
You shake you head fiercely, already sobbing out his name as one last thrust has you squirting heavily, shaking uncontrollably as Aang fucks you through it.
Then that big hand on your ass digs its nails into soft skin when Aang comes, filling you full with a bitten off whine and your eyes roll back as a smaller orgasm catches you by surprise.
Your vision darkens, your consciousness slips and all you hear before you give in is:
"I knew you could do it, my sweet girl."
It's that adoring praise that has you preening as you succumb to calming darkness.
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