summary: in which you jokingly accuse the lads boys of cheating (and they hate it).
ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb & valko
notes: veryyy mild hurt/comfort, xavier is #nothavingit, zayne is lovely, rafayel is evil, sylus is lovely too, caleb is secure for once, valko is the loveliest. fem (!!!) reader, allusions to cheating (obvi), a little toxic but it’s resolved quickly, that’s it (i think).
p.s. this one is kinda ass forgive meeeeee (ty ly)
a/n: mind blank…i want valko…ty for reading (- -)(_ _)
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I can't really remember how my mc looked like but I don't want to download this game again until they bring valko back (cuz he's the only reason I want to return to lads)
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pairing: bf!valko x reader
synopsis: you prank your anti-deforestation boyfriend by telling him you shaved your bush...
cw: suggestive but no explicit content, established relationship, fluff, kinda crack-fick
wc: 700
a/n: he's soooo cute in this photo ugh
Valko masterlist
“You did what?”
“I shaved it off, Valko.” you repeat for the second time.
He stares at you, conflicted and confused. His eyebrows are knit together tightly in a frown.
“Why?” he blinks at you a couple times.
“I thought it would be less bothersome for you.” you shrug, holding your smile back.
“You—” he starts but loses his words halfway. “Okay wait, I need a moment.” he huffs in disbelief. Leaning back against the counter behind him, his hand comes up to rub at the bottom half of his face.
You fold your arms over your chest and look around the kitchen, avoiding his gaze to try and not laugh.
“Why would you think it’s bothersome for me? Did I do something to make you think that?” he asks, his tone softer. Clearly, this was a very serious matter to him.
You shake your head in response. “No… I mean, I just assumed. Most men don’t like that.”
“Most men??— baby, what about what Valko likes?” he stares down at you, distraught and betrayed.
Your eyes widen and you chuckle shortly. “Did you just refer to yourself in third person?”
He ignores your question, and before you know it, your feet are lifted off the ground and his large palms are holding onto your hips as he sets you down on the counter.
“What are you doing—” you gasp.
“Show me. I wanna see it.” he requests, completely serious.
“Are you crazy?! Why?”
“Because I don’t believe you. I know that you know I love your bush.”
You scoff at him in disbelief. “I’m not showing you anything!”
“Why? ‘Cause you lied?” he tilts his head closer to you.
“No—because now’s not the time.” you stutter a bit, clearly caught red-handed.
“Haven’t heard that one before.” He raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “You’re usually eager—”
You cut him off by putting your hands over his mouth. He laughs into them before swiping his tongue, licking them. You pull away immediately, as if you’d been burned.
A beat of silence passes as you wipe your wet palm against the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t seem to mind, he doesn’t even flinch, evidently used to it.
The two of you stare at each other in silence, your hand remains atop his shoulder where you just wiped it. You watch him as he carefully lowers himself on his knees, eyes remaining glued to you the entire time. His hands move to rest on your knees.
You feel your face burn up and immediately tighten your grip on his shoulder. “Okay fine—it was a prank!” you blurt out.
He freezes in his movements. “Really?”
You look away, and then back at him momentarily to nod.
His hands still holding your knees, he closes them and rests his forehead against them while breathing out a sigh of relief. “You scared me for a second there.”
You chuckle at the sight, your hand finding its way to his burgundy locks. “That scary, huh?”
He leans into your hand, tilting his head sideways, and stares up at you as you continue brushing your fingers through his hair. “Yeah, you owe me an apology.”
You start scratching a particular spot you knew he liked. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry.”
He hums at the sensation, closing his eyes and enjoying your caress. His ears pop out suddenly, and you notice his tail swishing behind him. When he opens his eyes again, they hold a different intent. A heavier one.
“I think you’re gonna have to give me more than an apology…” he grins.
You quirk an eyebrow, and before you can speak, he stands back up and lifts you into his arms. Your hands immediately find his firm shoulders for balance.
His face is flushed now, and his eyes are dim. “... can I?” he pleas softly, waiting for your approval.
Noticing you leaning down towards him, he lowers you so you’re face to face with him. You press your lips to his tenderly. “... yes, you can.”
His breathing is steady and he seems calm, but his rapidly wagging tail behind him gives him away.
The two of you remain quiet as he carries you to your room and sets you down on the mattress, already understanding each other without using words.
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Today I had to be at work at 6 am. When I arrived at my bus stop, this beautiful sunrise landing on the meadow delighted my eyes. Sometimes I really want to live a little longer.
5 TIMES ZUKO BURNED THE PALACE + 1 TIME THE MAID FINALLY UNDERSTOOD WHY
art cr @ oouyox on X
18+ MDNI, smut, adult!zuko, fire lord!zuko, established relationship, newlywed, dom!zuko, jealous!zuko, fire lady!reader, water/icebender!reader, cockwarming, oral sex, edging, creampie, semi-public sex, dry hump, etc ...
DEAR DIARY, it’s my sixth day as a palace maid & apparently fire lord zuko burns things down whenever he’s alone with his wife. i asked the head maid about it, but she said i’m still too innocent to understand ...? is it because the fire lord is abusive ?! i just hope the kind fire lady is okay :<
O1 | HOPELESSLY DEVOTED TO YOU
The palace staff had quickly learned to read the architectural warning signs. At first, the occasional flicker of the wall sconces was easy to dismiss as a normal side effect of living inside the Fire Nation royal estate, where ceremonial flames burned at nearly every corner and the Caldera heat had a personality of its own. A candle trembling during a tense council meeting was not unusual. A brazier roaring too brightly after the Fire Lord received bad news was simply part of palace life. Firebenders were emotional people, after all, and the palace had housed generations of them.
But then the Fire Lord got married, and suddenly the entire palace became one prolonged fire hazard.
Whenever Zuko was struck by a particularly intense wave of desire for his wife, his inner fire reacted with embarrassing honesty. The decorative flames burning in the iron wall sconces would surge upward, roaring to life in blinding, unnatural pillars of gold. Lanterns trembled on their hooks, curtains smoked at the edges, and the very air in certain corridors grew so thick and hot that walking through them felt like stepping into the throat of a dragon. It became common knowledge among the staff that if a hallway suddenly felt like a furnace and the torches were licking the ceiling, you simply turned around and walked the other way.
No one said anything directly, of course. This was the Fire Lord and Fire Lady, newlyweds and apparently determined to test the structural endurance of every room, corridor, garden, balcony, kitchen, archive, and unfortunately, the royal study. The guards developed a silent rotation around the affected areas. The maids began carrying water basins with the same exhausted professionalism soldiers carried spears. The council, with great suffering and even greater self-preservation, pretended not to notice whenever their notoriously strict, punctual ruler arrived at official meetings with his collar pulled suspiciously high and his hair slightly more ruined than court protocol allowed.
You, naturally, found the entire situation hilarious. Zuko didn’t.
“You’re ruining my reputation,” he muttered one morning over breakfast, glaring into his tea as if the jasmine leaves had personally betrayed him. His hair was still half-loose from sleep, his robe lazily tied at the waist, and the faint reddish mark just beneath his jaw was doing an absolutely terrible job of staying hidden under his collar.
You lifted your teacup with both hands, blinking at him over the rim with exaggerated innocence. “My love, your reputation survived banishment, piracy, treason, and that one unfortunate ponytail era. I think it can survive people knowing you like your wife.”
His golden eyes narrowed. “I do not merely like my wife.”
“Oh?”
His gaze flicked to your mouth, then back to your eyes with the grim seriousness of a man discussing military strategy. “I am devoted to my wife.”
Your heart did something terribly inconvenient inside your chest. Then Zuko, apparently deciding that ruining you emotionally before breakfast was perfectly acceptable royal behavior, added in a lower voice, “Obsessed, even.”
The candle between you burst into a sudden, dramatic flame.
Both of you looked at it.
From the doorway, the head maid closed her eyes and took a very slow breath. “Not again,” she whispered.
O2 | SEVEN MINUTES OF HEAVEN
The first major casualty of your absolute lack of restraint was the royal study. It had started as a minor disagreement over a passing comment made by a visiting Earth Kingdom dignitary, which really should not have escalated as quickly as it did. The dignitary had been harmless enough, charming in that polished diplomatic way, with smooth compliments and practiced laughter that clearly meant nothing beyond courtly manners. You had barely paid him any mind. Zuko, unfortunately, had paid him too much mind.
By the time the heavy doors of the royal study closed behind you both, the Fire Lord’s fiercely protective instincts were already simmering dangerously beneath his skin. The room smelled of cedar, parchment, ink, and the sharp metallic bite of ozone, a scent you had come to associate with your husband trying very hard not to set something on fire. He stood near the shelves with a scroll clenched in one hand, his jaw tight enough to cut glass, while you leaned against the edge of his massive oak map table and crossed your arms.
“You are being ridiculous, Zuko,” you said. The table behind you was covered in carefully arranged naval documents, trade routes, council reports, and one very important scroll that had taken three ministers nearly a week to prepare. “He complimented my diplomacy. That is literally his job.”
Zuko’s eyes flashed. “He complimented more than your diplomacy.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it was honestly impressive you didn’t see the back of your own skull. “You know I only have eyes for you. Besides, you are one to talk. Honestly, with your history, I’m surprised you didn’t accidentally marry half the Earth Kingdom before I got here. Total womanizer.”
Zuko went completely still.
The scroll in his hand lowered slowly, and you realized a fraction too late that you had touched something far more tender than simple jealousy. Over the past decade, Zuko had mellowed into a composed ruler, a man capable of silencing entire council chambers with nothing but a look. But there were still old wounds beneath all that control, places where rejection and loneliness had carved themselves too deeply into him. Your teasing had landed somewhere dangerously close to one of them.
“A womanizer?” Zuko repeated quietly.
His voice was calm, and that was what made it worse. It had dropped into that dark, gravelly register meant only for you, the one that made the back of your neck prickle and your spine instinctively straighten. He placed the scroll down on the desk with careful precision, then moved around the table with slow, heavy steps until he was standing directly in front of you, crowding you back against the polished wood.
“My wife,” he said, his golden eyes burning with raw, defensive intensity, “I haven’t looked at, let alone wanted, another woman in years. I was abstinent before you invaded my palace, pointed a blade at my throat, and drove me completely insane.”
Your breath caught. The firelights in the study flickered at the edges of your vision, but you could barely focus on them with the way he was looking at you, as if the entire world had narrowed down to the space between your bodies.
“That was…” You swallowed, suddenly finding it very difficult to hold onto your smug little smile. “That was a very dramatic answer.”
Zuko only huffed, low and humorless, his mouth twitching like he could not decide whether he wanted to argue with you or ruin you against the nearest available surface.
“Anyway, you have a council meeting in exactly—”
“They can wait.”
“They really cannot.”
“They can,” he said, and there was something almost dangerous in how certain he sounded. His hands found your waist, scorching through the layers of crimson silk as he pushed closer, forcing the edge of the map table to press harder against the back of your thighs. The carefully organized naval reports crinkled beneath your palms when you braced yourself, and Zuko’s eyes dropped to the movement before lifting back to your face, dark and possessive and entirely too pleased with the way your composure had started to slip.
You opened your mouth to respond, but whatever clever retort you had prepared vanished the moment his lips brushed the side of your neck. Zuko had always loved you with a terrifying kind of intensity, and when his emotions caught fire, he had a habit of kissing like he was trying to prove something to both of you at once. Still, there was nothing uncertain in the way your fingers curled into his collar, nothing hesitant in the way you pulled him closer, dragging him down until his mouth finally crashed against yours.
The kiss wasn’t elegant. It was teeth and heat and months of carefully leashed obsession finally snapping under the weight of one careless accusation.
Zuko kissed you like he was still trying to prove a point, like every word you had thrown at him had struck somewhere too close to an old wound and he had decided the only acceptable response was to make you forget you had ever doubted him. One large, calloused hand slid up your spine, fingers spreading firmly between your shoulder blades while the other gripped your hip hard enough to make the silk wrinkle beneath his palm. You answered by biting his lower lip, and the low, broken sound that tore from his throat went straight through you.
“My lord,” you gasped against his mouth, freezing fingers twisting into the front of his robes. “You’re gonna be late—”
“Don’t care,” he panted, voice wrecked and rough. He shoved your skirts up with impatient hands and lifted you onto the map table in one motion. Scrolls scattered. An inkwell tipped over, spilling black across weeks of careful work, but neither of you noticed.
You barely had time to brace yourself before he pushed your legs apart. He freed himself with jerky movements, and the thick, scorching heat of his cock dragged against your inner thigh. You shivered at the contrast.
“Zuko—s-slow down—” The word broke into a sharp moan as he pushed inside you in one deep thrust, stretching you open around burning heat. The clash of temperatures dragged ragged groans from both of you.
He moved with none of his usual restraint after that, the table creaking beneath you as ruined scrolls slipped uselessly to the floor. Your freezing hands clutched at his shoulders, frost blooming beneath your fingertips before melting almost instantly against the fevered heat of his skin.
“You’re unbearable when you’re—ah!—jealous,” you managed between breaths, the words shaky and broken.
Zuko let out a breathless, almost pained laugh against your neck, hips never slowing. “And yet you keep giving me reasons.”
He shifted just enough to find the angle that made the whole room blur at the edges.
“Zuko—right t-there,” you gasped, head falling back as your legs tightened around his waist. The firelights in the study answered before he could, flickering wildly as his control slipped. Flames stretched higher in the sconces, throwing restless gold across the walls, while a nearby candle flared too bright and caught the corner of a discarded scroll.
Neither of you stopped.
Zuko moved with terrifying concentration, one hand planted against the table, the other gripping your thigh as if he needed something solid to hold onto. The room filled with heat, paper crumpled beneath you, and somewhere behind him, another small flame caught at the edge of an old tapestry.
“Zuko—ah, I’m g-gonna—” Your words dissolved into a broken moan as you came first, sudden and shattering. Your walls clenched tight around his burning length.
The cold rush dragged him over the edge right after. He buried himself deep with a choked groan, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. His inner fire roared so fiercely that two of the wall sconces burst into tall, uncontrolled flames for several seconds before slowly settling.
For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the soft crackle of the small fires still licking at the edges of the room.
Zuko stayed buried inside you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. His breath was hot and uneven against your neck. You carded freezing fingers through his messy hair and pressed a soft kiss to his scarred cheek.
“…You’re definitely late now,” you whispered, voice hoarse.
When Fire Lord Zuko finally strode into the grand hall—hair slightly mussed, ceremonial robes hastily straightened, and a very obvious trail of fresh dark marks blooming along the side of his neck—the temperature in the palace had spiked noticeably. The decorative fire sconces outside the royal study were still flaring brighter than usual.
Avatar Aang took one look at him, then at the faint sheen of lingering frost melting on Zuko’s collar, and choked violently on his tea.
The rest of the council suddenly found the table extremely interesting.
Zuko, however, simply took his seat with that terrifyingly composed Fire Lord mask firmly back in place. Though the faint, smug curve at the corner of his mouth gave him away completely.
He was exactly seven minutes late.
And he didn’t look sorry at all.
O3 | “SIR, I’M NOT PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS.”
The outdoor training courtyard was not safe from your antics either. The afternoon sun was blistering, turning the stone tiles warm beneath your bare feet, but the heat rolling off Zuko’s skin was even hotter. He moved across the courtyard with lethal precision, dual dao swords flashing in sharp silver arcs as he pressed forward. You met him strike for strike, your waterbending weaving through his aggression like a river cutting through stone. He had trained under masters, survived wars, fought prodigies and assassins and spirits, but you had learned his body in motion with a familiarity that made every sparring match feel less like combat and more like a private language.
He swung low. You stepped over the blade. He pivoted, and you caught the shift in his weight before he completed the motion, twisting your wrist and drawing moisture from the air until it hardened into a wicked, glittering blade of ice. With a sharp sweep of your ankle and a perfectly timed pull of water beneath his heel, you sent him off balance. Zuko hit the ground with a rough grunt, and before he could recover, you vaulted forward, straddling his waist and pressing the freezing tip of your ice dagger directly against the erratic pulse beating at his neck.
“Dead,” you panted, victorious and breathless, a smirk curling at your lips.
Zuko didn’t look at the blade. He looked at you.
His dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his chest rising and falling beneath the open collar of his training robe. His golden eyes dragged slowly from your triumphant expression to the way your thighs pinned him in place, and the sudden clash of your freezing temperature against his scorching skin visibly wrecked whatever remained of his concentration. A soft cloud of steam curled where your bare legs pressed against him. His hands flexed once at his sides, then slid up to grip your thighs with desperate, reverent heat.
He had simply stopped trying.
“You’re distracted,” you accused, breathless and smug.
Zuko’s gaze flicked back to yours, dark and unashamed. “Well, you’re sitting on top of me.”
“That is a terrible excuse.”
“It’s a very convincing one.”
You laughed, delighted, but the sound barely had time to leave your mouth before his hand moved to the back of your neck and pulled you down into a kiss. The ice dagger dissolved instantly, melting into a harmless stream of water that ran over his collarbone and disappeared into the fabric of his robe. You meant to tease him for surrendering so easily, but then his hips shifted beneath you, and the thought scattered completely. Through the thin layers of training clothes, you felt the unmistakable hard line of him pressed against you, hot and insistent, betraying exactly why his focus had slipped in the first place.
Your breath caught against his mouth.
His grip on your thighs tightened, and when you moved by accident—just a slight shift of your weight over his lap—his reaction was immediate. A rough, strained sound broke low in his throat, his head tipping back against the ground for half a second before his golden eyes snapped back to yours, darker than before. The victory in your expression slowly turned into something far more dangerous.
“Oh,” you breathed, unable to stop the smile spreading across your lips. “So that’s why you lost.”
You shifted again, deliberately this time, just enough to make the heat between you drag in a way that stole the air from both of your lungs. Zuko’s hand slid up to your waist, holding you in place, but he did not push you away. If anything, he pulled you closer, guiding the slow, heated movement until the line between sparring and something far less appropriate blurred completely.
Around you, the courtyard seemed to inhale. The lanterns along the wall flared, the training posts began to smoke, and a nearby guard, who had unfortunately chosen that exact moment to enter through the side gate, stopped mid-step, stared at the scene, and very slowly turned around.
He did not get paid enough for this.
Two more guards followed him without a word.
By the time the flames around the courtyard settled, three practice posts had been scorched, one stone pillar had cracked from thermal shock, and Zuko had somehow managed to look both smug and completely ruined at the same time. You brushed ash off his shoulder later, trying very hard not to laugh, while he stood there with his hair destroyed, his robe uneven, and the kind of expression that made it very clear he had absolutely no regrets.
“This is why the staff avoids us,” you told him.
Zuko leaned down until his mouth brushed your ear. “Good.”
O4 | STEP ONE: CALL HIM ZUZU!
But the most chaotic incident happened in the supposed privacy of your royal bedchamber, fueled by three generous glasses of imported plum wine and your unfortunate discovery of Zuko’s old travel chest.
You were delightfully, shamelessly drunk, rummaging through the old belongings he had kept tucked away at the back of the chamber while he watched you from the bed with the wary patience of a man who knew his wife well enough to expect disaster. There were old cloaks, worn maps, a few dull blades wrapped in cloth, and several items from the years he clearly did not enjoy discussing unless he was already half-asleep and emotionally ambushed by your cold hands on his chest.
Then you found the mask.
The infamous wooden Blue Spirit mask stared up at you from beneath a folded travel cloak, its painted grin just as dramatic as the stories had promised. Your eyes widened. Your mouth fell open. Zuko, immediately sensing danger, sat up.
“No,” he said.
You slowly lifted the mask.
“No.”
“Zuko.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Zuzu.”
His expression tightened. “Don’t Zuzu me.”
You turned toward him with the biggest, most delighted smile he had ever seen, clutching the mask like a sacred treasure. “Katara told me about this.”
Zuko closed his eyes.
Of course Katara had told you. Katara had a gift, and it was not just waterbending, healing, or her terrifying ability to mother people into becoming better versions of themselves. No, Katara had the supernatural ability to make traumatized boys confess their entire life stories to her. Jet, Aang, Sokka, Zuko; somehow all of them had, at one point or another, looked into her kind blue eyes and decided, yes, this girl absolutely needed to hear the worst thing that had ever happened to them.
And now, thanks to her, you knew about the Blue Spirit, which meant Zuko was doomed.
It started as a joke, as most of your terrible ideas did. You had dragged the mask out of his travel chest with far too much excitement, demanded he put it on, and somehow managed to bully the Fire Lord of the Fire Nation into indulging you with nothing but sparkling eyes and a smile he had never learned how to refuse. The bargain had been simple, if deeply unfair: he would wear the mask, and in return you would sit sweetly in his lap—taking him fully inside you and staying there without moving.
Which, technically, you were doing.
The plum wine had left you warm and loose above him, your arms looped lazily around his neck while Zuko sat against the pillows with the last of his dignity barely hanging on by a thread. He was buried deep inside you, thick and throbbing while your walls wrapped snugly around his cock. He tried very hard to act like this was not the most unreasonable form of torture you had ever invented.
The mask stared back at you with its sharp painted grin, pale tusks, hollow eyes, and all the dramatic menace of a nightmare that had learned theater. It should not have been funny. It definitely should not have been romantic. But you, warmed by plum wine and your own terrible sense of humor, looked at him like this was the most delightful thing you had ever seen.
Zuko, unfortunately, had no idea what to do with that.
He had been perfectly willing to toss the mask aside the second you dragged it out of his travel chest, but you had whined so dramatically when he reached for it that he froze mid-motion, one hand hovering beside the painted blue grin.
“Nooo,” you complained, clutching at his wrist with both hands. “Keep the mask on.”
Zuko went still beneath you.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m extremely serious.”
“The mask is crooked.”
“That makes it better.”
“It does not.”
“It does,” you insisted, squinting at him with the solemn concentration of someone trying very hard to appear artistic while very drunk. The Blue Spirit’s painted grin stared back at you, all sharp teeth and dramatic menace, while the actual Fire Lord behind it sat painfully still beneath your attention. “You look very mysterious.”
“I look ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously hot,” you said, then reached up with both hands to adjust the strap.
Unfortunately, your coordination had been murdered by plum wine. Instead of fixing it, you somehow made the mask tilt even farther to one side, turning the fearsome Blue Spirit into something lopsided, sulky, and deeply offended. You stared at him for one long, silent second.
Then you giggled.
It was such a small thing. A drunken little request, harmless and silly, made with your eyes bright from wine and your smile too soft to be cruel. Still, insecurity struck him faster than reason could. For one brief, awful second, his mind went somewhere old and ugly, back to every stare that had lingered too long on his scar, every flinch hidden behind polite manners, every person who had looked at the burned side of his face before they looked at him.
His voice came out quieter than he intended. “What, is the mask better?”
You blinked.
Then your expression changed so quickly it almost hurt to watch. The teasing vanished, replaced by something fiercely offended, as if the thought itself had personally insulted you. “No, silly,” you said, already reaching for the edge of the mask. “I just wanna tease you.”
Before he could answer, you pulled it off his face and yeeted it over your shoulder with absolutely no grace. Weee. The mask sailed through the air in a tragic little arc before landing harmlessly somewhere among the cushions.
Zuko stared after it, then he stared back at you.
Without the mask, his face was fully visible in the dim amber light of the bedchamber: the strong line of his jaw, the softness of his mouth, the old scar that had shaped him without ever making him any less beautiful, and the golden eyes that had once burned with anger but now looked at you with something so painfully devoted it made your chest ache. You cupped his face with both hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks with tenderness.
“Nothing beats your pretty face, Zuzu.”
Zuko went completely still.
There it was again, that impossible thing you did to him. You could tease him until his ears went red, bully him into wearing an old vigilante mask, laugh at his suffering like it was your favorite hobby, and then suddenly say something so gentle that it cut through every defense he had ever built. You were smiling at him like his face, scar and all, was not something to tolerate or look past, but something precious. Something beloved.
And because the spirits were apparently cruel, you said it while sitting so close, while your body was wrapped around his, while he was already buried deep inside you and trying very hard to pretend he was not losing every last scrap of composure he had left.
It made him want to come right there and then.
“Stop,” he rasped.
You tilted your head, still smiling. “Huh? Why?”
His hands tightened at your hips, not enough to hurt, only enough to keep you still. His jaw worked once, the muscle in his cheek jumping as he tried to gather whatever dignity had not already been ruined by you. “Just…” His voice came out strained, almost embarrassed. “Don’t move, unless you want to get pregnant.”
For one second, your wine-softened mind processed the warning.
Then your smile turned wicked.
“You do know I can just bend your—” You paused, waving one hand vaguely between you with far too much confidence for someone explaining absolutely nothing. “Your fluids, right?”
The gesture made no scientific sense whatsoever, but you delivered it with the calm certainty of a woman who had never once allowed anatomy, physics, or basic decency to stop her.
You leaned closer, lips hovering near his, mischief bright in your wine-soft eyes. “Besides, it’s not like that hasn’t happened before.”
Zuko’s eyes shut for half a second.
“That is not the problem.”
“Then what is the problem, my lord?” you asked sweetly, pressing slow, teasing kisses along the side of his neck, up the sharp line of his jaw, and finally near the corner of his mouth.
His breath left him unevenly, almost a laugh and almost a groan. He looked humiliated by his own body, but too far gone to pretend he was not completely ruined by you. “The problem,” he said, voice tight with restraint, “is that we have barely done anything.”
Your expression brightened with realization.
“Oh,” you whispered, delighted. “So this is about your pride.”
“Don’t sound so pleased.”
“I’m very pleased.”
“Y/N.”
You shifted just enough to make his grip tighten again, just enough to pull a rough, broken sound from low in his throat. His teeth caught against his lower lip, his head tipping back against the pillows as if sheer stubbornness alone could hold him together. It was adorable, actually. Devastating, but adorable.
The more he thought about it, the worse it became. The warmth of you around him, your legs wrapped lazily around his waist, your hands still cradling his face like he was something worth loving carefully. Every soft movement, every breathless little laugh, every fond look you gave him pushed him closer to the edge he was desperately pretending he had not already reached.
So naturally, you moved again.
Ever so slowly. Teasingly. Just enough to shred whatever pride he had left.
The lantern beside the bed flared so brightly the room flashed gold.
Zuko’s composure broke all at once. His hands clamped around your hips, his whole body going tense beneath you as a low, wrecked groan tore from his throat and disappeared into the curve of your neck.
“Fuck, Y/N— I’m—” His voice broke into a wrecked groan. His hips jerked up once, twice, then he came hard.
You felt the first thick spurt of his cum shoot deep inside you, hot and sudden. His member pulsed strongly, again and again, flooding your walls with rope after rope of warm release. It was so much that it quickly spilled out around where you two were joined, slick and messy, dripping down his shaft and over your thighs every time he twitched.
Zuko shuddered beneath you, mouth open in a silent moan as another powerful spurt filled you. His whole body tensed, muscles straining, while the sconces around the room surged with bright blue-white flames that lit up the entire bedchamber for several long seconds. One of the hanging lanterns flared so intensely the flame nearly touched the canopy before settling.
When it finally slowed, Zuko was breathing hard, chest heaving, looking thoroughly ruined and a little mortified. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, and his golden eyes were glassy with pleasure and embarrassment.
Then you looked down at him, unbearably pleased with yourself.
Zuko dragged one heavy hand down his face as if asking the spirits why they had made him fall in love with the most infuriating woman alive.
“Haa…” he breathed, glaring at you with absolutely no real anger. “You just love to test my patience, don’t you, my queen?”
A sweet, bright giggle escaped you, echoing through the quiet chamber. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his scarred collarbone, feeling his pulse jump beneath your lips.
“Oh, absolutely.”
His laugh was low and wrecked, his hands sliding carefully back to your waist.
And the night, of course, was only beginning.
O5 | THE FIRE LORD IS A SUCKER FOR HIS WIFE
Tucked deep behind the private wing of the palace, the moon garden was quieter than the formal courtyards and far more intimate than the public terraces. Zuko had commissioned it shortly after your wedding, though he had tried to be painfully casual about the entire thing, as if personally designing a secluded garden filled with your favorite flowers, a koi pond cold enough for your waterbending, and shaded stone paths made specifically for evening walks with you was not the most obvious confession of devotion in the world. It had a narrow pond lined with black volcanic stones, clusters of red fire lilies blooming beside pale moonflowers, and a curved stone bench beneath a low maple tree whose leaves looked almost black under the night sky. The servants rarely entered unless summoned, the guards only passed the outer gate during patrol, and the entire place was usually reserved for those rare moments when the Fire Lord wanted silence with the only person he could never bear to be away from for long.
Naturally, that peace didn’t last.
You found Zuko on the stone bench long after midnight. Stripped down to only his outer robe hanging loosely from one shoulder, he stubbornly braved the biting cold as if the freezing night temperature meant nothing. His long hair had slipped free from its tie, dark strands falling over his face and sticking to the damp line of his neck. The moonlight caught the hard planes of his bare chest and abdomen, tracing silver along old scars, tense muscle, and the familiar golden warmth of his skin. One arm was draped lazily over the back of the bench, but the pose was too deliberate, too careless in the way only Zuko could be when he was trying to pretend something didn’t hurt.
Then you saw the blood.
A dark smear stained the exposed skin of his upper thigh, where a shallow but ugly cut had torn. It was not fatal, not even close, but it was bleeding enough to make your stomach twist and your irritation rise immediately behind it. Zuko, of course, looked more annoyed at being discovered than concerned about the wound itself, because apparently becoming Fire Lord, surviving assassination attempts, getting married, and promising to stop carrying the entire world on his shoulders had done absolutely nothing to cure him of his lifelong allergy to asking for help.
“You’re bleeding,” you said.
Zuko glanced down at his thigh as if the wound had personally inconvenienced him. “It’s just a scratch.”
“It’s leaking.”
“That is usually what blood does.”
You stared at him.
He stared back.
The lantern beside the koi pond flickered once, as if even the flame knew he had said the wrong thing.
With a long, suffering breath, you crossed the garden, gathered your skirts in one hand, and crouched down between his parted knees before he could argue again. Zuko’s expression shifted immediately, the sharp edge of his stubbornness catching on surprise. You ignored it, drawing water from the koi pond with a smooth curl of your wrist until it rose in a clear ribbon and wrapped itself around your fingers. The moment your glowing palms settled near his thigh, the moon garden filled with soft blue light.
“You should have called me,” you murmured, keeping your eyes on the wound as the healing water spread gently over torn skin.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You woke three guards, two ministers, and probably half the turtle-ducks by bleeding through the royal hallway, but yes, thank you for sparing me.”
His mouth twitched. “The turtle-ducks are strong. They will recover.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You married me.”
“Still questioning that.”
His quiet laugh was low and tired, but it warmed the space between you more intimately than any flame. You pressed your thumb near the edge of the wound to guide the healing water deeper, and Zuko’s breath caught despite his best effort to hide it. The muscle beneath your hand jumped. His fingers curled against the stone bench, long and tense, while the lantern above his shoulder flared a little too brightly.
You looked up.
He looked away with the stiff, guilty dignity of a man who knew exactly what his own fire had just confessed.
“Zuko.” you warned him.
“I know.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“I said I know.”
“You’re injured.”
His jaw flexed. “It is not related.”
“You’re sitting here half-dressed, bleeding on a garden bench, and somehow still finding a way to be embarrassed because your wife is touching your thigh.”
The faint color climbing his neck betrayed him completely, but he still had the nerve to look offended. “You’re kneeling between my legs and scolding me. I’m reacting with impressive restraint.”
The words landed between you with enough heat to make the glowing water tremble around your fingers.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The wound was nearly closed now, the angry red line fading beneath the blue light of your bending until only smooth, warm skin remained beneath your palm. You should have stood, smacked his shoulder for being reckless, and dragged him back inside before the night patrol circled past the outer gate again. The moon garden was private, yes, but not unguarded; there were still soldiers beyond the walls, servants in the nearby corridors, and a very official expectation that a secluded garden built for quiet walks would not be used for anything else.
Or so everyone kept insisting.
Instead, your hand lingered against his thigh for one second too long, and Zuko’s golden eyes darkened beneath the loose fall of his hair.
The look he gave you made the koi pond steam.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said.
You blinked up at him with exaggerated innocence, though your hand was still resting a little too comfortably against his newly healed thigh. “I’m healing you.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m just naturally joyful person.”
“Joyful person, huh? No wonder you threatened to freeze a councilman’s tongue this morning.”
Your expression didn’t change. “He interrupted my breakfast.”
“That doesn’t support your argument.”
A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it, soft and bright in the quiet garden, and just like that, whatever remained of Zuko’s restraint seemed to fold in on itself. His expression changed, irritation melting into something far more dangerous and far more tender. He looked at you the way he always did right before the palace lost another curtain, like your laughter was the only sound in the world that mattered and his fire had no idea what to do with the feeling.
His hand lifted from the bench and touched your chin, tilting your face up with a gentleness that made your chest ache.
“The wound is healed,” he murmured.
You glanced down. It was. Completely.
“So it is,” you whispered.
“You’re still kneeling.”
“Well, duh, you’re holding my face.”
His thumb brushed once along your chin, then higher, grazing your lower lip with the kind of careful heat that made the entire garden feel suddenly too quiet.
The moon garden went very still around you. The koi pond steamed faintly at the edges. The fire lilies glowed red beneath the lantern light, and the night air warmed until the scent of maple leaves, water, and Zuko’s familiar cedar heat wrapped around you like a warning.
You forgot whatever clever thing you were about to say.
Instead, your gaze dropped, which Zuko noticed almost immediately.
His thumb stilled against your mouth. “Y/N.”
There was warning in his voice, but not nearly enough conviction behind it. Not when he was still half-dressed on the stone bench, hair loose around his flushed face, newly healed thigh still warm beneath your hand, and looking at you like he had already lost the argument before it began.
You tilted your head with exaggerated innocence. “What?”
“You know what.”
You pressed a slow kiss to the inside of his newly healed thigh, right where blood had stained his skin only moments ago, and Zuko’s breath fractured so sharply it nearly ruined his attempt at dignity. His fingers curled against the stone bench before slipping into your hair. His touch was impossibly gentle, as though holding on to you was the only way to keep himself from falling apart.
“I’m very thorough.”
His eyes narrowed. “That is not what thorough means.”
“It is when I’m the healer.”
You looked up at him.
Moonlight painted silver across his bare chest, the hard lines of his abdomen, the old scars scattered across his skin, and the faint sheen of sweat gathering at his throat. His long hair hung loose and messy, a few strands clinging to the sharp line of his jaw. He looked like a man who had survived wars, assassination attempts, exile, palace politics, and half the world trying to break him.
And somehow, this was what undid him.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he breathed, voice rough and helpless.
Your smile softened for half a second. “Wrong,” you murmured playfully, kissing him again, slower this time. “I’m going to make you feel better.”
Zuko’s laugh came out low and wrecked, barely more than a breath.
Whatever answer he meant to give disappeared when you tugged the rest of his robe aside and freed him. He was already achingly hard, flushed dark and leaking at the tip. You dragged your tongue slowly from base to head, savoring the way his thigh muscle jumped under your free hand.
Zuko let out a shaky exhale, head tipping back against the bench. “Hah—Y/N,”
You answered by taking him into your mouth, slow and wet, sinking down until he bumped the back of your throat. A low, broken sound escaped him—something between a groan and a sigh, like the tension he’d been carrying all night was finally cracking.
You worked him with lazy, deliberate strokes of your mouth, one hand stroking what you couldn’t take while the other rested possessively on his uninjured thigh. Every time you hollowed your cheeks or swirled your tongue, his hips twitched, fighting the urge to thrust.
The muscles in his abdomen flexed visibly with every stroke of your tongue as his breathing grew more uneven. You could feel him throbbing, getting impossibly harder against your tongue.
When you looked up, his golden eyes were fixed on you—dark, overwhelmed, and completely unguarded. The sight made something warm bloom in your chest.
It only made you greedier. So you slowed down, cruelly deliberate now, learning the exact rhythm that made his breath catch and then denying him the moment he got too close. Every time you felt his thighs tense and his member start to throb harder against your tongue, you eased off, licking lazily along the underside or sucking softly on just the head until his hips twitched with frustration.
His fingers tightened in your hair, not forcing you, but clearly fighting the urge to. “Y/N…” His voice was hoarse, almost pleading. “Don’t—ah—don’t tease me like this.”
You pulled off with a wet pop, lips glistening, and looked up at him with a wicked little smile. “But you look so pretty when you’re desperate.”
Zuko’s eyes shut, his jaw clenching as if the words had struck somewhere embarrassingly deep.
You sank back down immediately, taking him to the back of your throat in one smooth motion. Zuko groaned, head falling back against the bench as his hips jerked. You could feel him getting dangerously close again—thick and pulsing on your tongue—so you pulled back once more, stroking him slowly with your hand.
He let out a wrecked sound, half curse, half whimper. “You’re cruel… but—fuck, hah—you’re so beautiful.”
You hummed around him in response, the vibration pulling another quiet curse from his lips. You took him deeper, faster, letting the wet sounds mix with his ragged breathing and the gentle ripple of water. One of your freezing fingers traced the sensitive skin just beneath his cock, the sharp temperature contrast making his whole body jerk.
The second time you pulled him back from the edge, he lost whatever pride had been keeping him silent.
“Please,” he rasped.
For once, he looked less like a ruler and more like a man entirely at his wife’s mercy.
You looked up at him with a wicked, affectionate smile, still stroking him fast and tight. “Cum for me, Zuzu.”
For a heartbeat, he tried not to.
You saw it in the sharp clench of his jaw, the way his fingers tightened in your hair without pulling, the way his breath caught and broke like he could still argue his way out of surrendering. Then his restraint snapped quietly, then all at once.
The Fire Lord came with a choked, broken groan, his hips jerking up uncontrollably as the first thick, hot spurt flooded your mouth. You moaned around his pulsing cock, swallowing greedily, but there was too much—thick ropes of cum kept shooting across your tongue, so much that it overflowed almost immediately. It spilled from the corners of your stretched lips, dripping messily down his throbbing shaft and over your fingers as you kept stroking him through it. The sheer amount of it made your thighs press together, heat pooling low in your belly at how desperately his body was giving in to you.
He shuddered hard beneath you, muscles taut and trembling, his long hair sticking to his sweat-damp neck and chest. His golden eyes were half-lidded, glazed with raw pleasure as he watched you take every drop like you were starving for him.
The koi pond steamed violently. A nearby fire lily bush glowed red-hot before slowly dimming.
When it finally subsided, Zuko was slumped against the bench with his chest heaving, your husband looked beautifully ruined. You pulled off slowly, licking your lips clean with a small, satisfied smile. A thin string of cum still connected your bottom lip to him before it broke.
“Good boy,” you teased softly.
Zuko stared down at you for a long moment, something raw and helpless in his expression.
“…You’re impossible,” he finally whispered, voice hoarse and wondering, as if he still couldn’t believe you were real.
You pressed one last soft kiss to his thigh and smiled.
“Isn’t this exactly what you wanted, my lord?”
His smirk deepened at your question.
Clearly, you had not realized how much danger that pretty little mouth of yours had put you in.
Zuko was still flushed, still catching his breath, still looking far too ruined for a man who had any right to recover so quickly. But his hands were steady when they reached for you, sliding beneath your arms and pulling you up into his lap before you could even think to escape.
You landed against him with a soft gasp, your skirts spilling messily over his thighs. The warmth of him pressed through the fabric, unmistakable and already returning, and suddenly your teasing smile did not feel quite as victorious as it had a moment ago.
“My wife always knows best, doesn’t she?” he murmured, his voice low against your mouth.
O6 | UPDATE: THE FIRE LADY IS FINE
By the end of the first month, the palace had adapted with the grim efficiency of a nation recovering from war. The maids carried water buckets as part of their standard duties, the guards learned which corridors to avoid based on heat patterns alone, and the council stopped scheduling meetings too close to breakfast, lunch, dinner, sparring sessions, diplomatic arguments, late-night kitchen raids, library research, moon garden strolls, or any moment where the Fire Lady happened to smile at her husband for longer than three seconds. The palace seamstresses quietly reinforced your gowns, the head chef hid the good towels, and the royal archivist posted a handwritten warning outside the study that simply read: NO OPEN FLAMES NEAR NAVAL DOCUMENTS, which everyone understood was not actually about candles.
Zuko pretended to be offended by all of this, but you knew better. For all his muttering about dignity and decorum, the Fire Lord was utterly hopeless. He had spent years learning how to contain himself, how to swallow rage, how to make his fire precise enough to serve a nation instead of destroy it. Yet somehow, all it took was your hand on his sleeve, your mouth near his ear, your laughter pressed against his throat, or apparently the simple act of healing a wound on his thigh, and the most powerful firebender in the world became a walking architectural threat.
The newest maid finally understood after one night, when she heard your bright, breathless laughter from behind the royal chamber doors, followed by Zuko’s low voice murmuring something far too soft to be anger. The sconces outside the hallway flared blue-white, the temperature spiked, and suddenly every vague warning from the senior maids made horrifying, embarrassing sense.
By dinner, her diary had only one update:
DEAR DIARY,
thankfully, the fire lady is fine.
the furniture, however, is not.
After that, she stopped asking questions and started carrying a water bucket like everyone else.
These days, the palace staff had been working very hard. If they were lucky, you had already set the fire down with your bending before anyone arrived. If they were not, they had to manually put out the flames before replacing another curtain, cushion, napkin, table runner, practice post, garden lantern, or emotionally unfortunate bread basket. Still, no matter how violently the sconces flared or how many unfortunate pieces of furniture fell victim to the Fire Lord’s complete lack of restraint around his wife, the flames never once touched you.
Even when his control slipped because of you, even when desire made the air shimmer and the palace lights burn brighter than they had any right to, Zuko’s fire always curved away from your skin. It burned around you, sparked above you, and curled through the air like devotion given shape, but it never hurt you. It would never hurt you. His fire had been raised in anger, sharpened by war, and forced for years to survive on pain, but with you, it had learned something gentler, something warmer, something sacred.
With you, his fire had learned love.
And love, no matter how brightly it burned, would always know how to keep you safe.
this is part of the sublimation ( my zuko fic ) universe! read more chapters
this oneshot took me like ~8 hours btw. i need everyone to clap because what the hell </3
anw i alr finished the atla la s2 n it was so good !! altho they skipped n reordered some parts, but it’s prolly bc of the budget... welp, i can’t wait for the movie to come out.
18+ slight angst. meet footballer!gojo & his cheerleader fwb !
1. CHEERLEADERS ARE FOR CHEERING—NOT FONDLING!
“girl… isn’t that your man?”
your first mistake is letting your eyes follow shoko’s gaze to the bleachers. your second mistake is making eye contact with golden boy gojo satoru, still in his jersey & ‘hiding’ behind a skinny pole with a very annoyed geto suguru by his side.
you don’t bother correcting shoko. instead you ignore the grin satoru flashes you, taking out the water bottle between your lips with a pop! “is he supposed to be hiding?”
shoko shrugs, turns on her heel. “dunno, ask him. he’s clearly waiting.”
you roll your eyes with a sigh, but you’re already moving.
shoes clicking against the wood gym floor, skirt swishing between your thighs. gojo satoru has long come out of his hiding spot. he’s slumped against the pole now; hands in his pockets, grin lazy, blue eyes glimmering in the orange sun. beside him geto suguru is there, jaw tight in an expression that says he’d rather be anywhere but here.
you still have your bottle in hand when gojo reaches for your hips. “hi, baby…”
you barely murmur back a hi before he’s tugging you in by your skirt. his head dips to kiss your neck, then your cheek, then somewhere else your brain doesn’t register because his hands glide up to squeeze your ass cheeks underneath your skirt. a soft noise slips past your lips as he sucks on your neck.
“mm,” he murmurs, “missed you.”
geto clears his throat.
you let satoru do as he pleases, threading your hands through his hair as his hand dips between your inner thighs. he hums into your neck when you scratch his scalp. “suguru,” you breathe, “how’d you two even get here? coach toji’s gonna kill you guys.”
“kiss,” satoru interrupts. you tilt your head towards him, eyes still on suguru as gojo presses his lips to yours.
suguru’s face twists in disgust, but he doesn’t comment. “satoru bribed him. paid him a couple hundreds to see you for five minutes.”
“right—” your voice strains when gojo gropes your ass once again. “and you followed him because?”
geto is already looking away. “he bribed me too.”
you snort, but it turns into a shiver as satoru sucks on your earlobe. he hums, pleased, when your fingers tighten in his hair.
“mmh… got an away match,” he kisses your jaw. “wanted to see my girl first.”
you’re not his girl, you know you’ll never be, but you still laugh when he squeezes your waist & presses hurried kisses to your cheek. you shove him away & his grin is cocky.
“gonna score for you,” he tugs you back, dipping his head to your ear. “and then you’ll treat me, yeah?”
you hum when his arms snake around your hips once again.
“only if you score the winning goal.”
2. POST MATCH SEXCAPADES !
satoru comes back too late.
you’re not sure exactly why—maybe overtime, maybe the team stopped somewhere to celebrate their win—but you don’t let the thought plague you. you’re more concerned about the fact that it’s nearly evening & you can hear a ball kicking against the gym walls. you’re still in your cheer uniform, tiny skirt & sheer top, standing at the metal doors as you watch gojo dribble on his own.
he stops dribbling to catch his breath, wiping sweat off his chin. and then he’s off to sit at the bleachers, letting water slide down his neck as he chugs from a bottle.
you take it as your cue.
you have your hands behind your back, padding all slow, steps soft as you make your way to him. gojo keeps his bottle pressed to his lips but he sees it. how your skirt clings to your thighs. how your breasts ripple under the thin material. he lets out a low hum as you sit yourself on his lap.
you loop your hands around his neck. “hi.”
his lip tugs. “hi,”
he squeezes your waist as you press yourself into him. your tits smush against his chest, nipples hardening, and his fingers are already tracing the hem of your skirt & gliding up your thigh.
“how was the match?” you mumble.
“was good,” he mutters, but his thumb has already found your panties underneath your skirt. he rubs a slow circle over the bud. “you miss me?”
“no,” you sass, but he presses his thumb into your clit & your hips stutter. satoru laughs.
“i know what you like now,” he hums, left hand gliding up your side as the other rubs slow circles over your panties. “know it only takes a little.”
his thumb finds your nipple through your thin shirt. he rubs a circle over the pebbled peak, slow, but then he raises a brow. “no bra?”
you can’t respond. your breath hitches as your head falls into his shoulder.
“so cute,” he murmurs softly. he lets you press against him, leaving your panties to grope your heavy tits in his palm. he squeezes and fondles, pressing light kisses to your cheek as you make pretty noises in his ear. your hips buck into him.
“needy,” he scoffs, but his hands come up to guide your hips as you rut against him. he’s already hard and your panties are soaked thin and you let the material cling between your folds as your clit rubs against him. he flips up your skirt to find you drenched & slobbering. he bites his cheek.
“fuck, baby,” he rasps, sliding your panties over your aching cunt. you’re still humping him. “why’s your pussy so fucking wet?”
you only whimper as he presses his thumb to your sticky clit, rubbing hard circles over the bud. his other hand gropes your hip, guiding you faster over him. your breathing shudders as his thumb circles your clit faster and harder, until your hips are stuttering & he’s cupping your pussy so you cum in his palm.
you whimper, tears pricking at your lashes as you come down from your high. satoru kisses your cheek slow. “mmh, good job, baby.”
he’s still rubbing his palm over your pussy, massaging your warmth all slow & lazy. your eyes drop to his bulge, his cock practically twitching in his shorts. you reach a hand to glide over it, palming him so his hips twitch. he inhales sharply, “fuck—”
“not in my uniform,” he steals your hand, kissing your jaw. “gonna be a nightmare to clean.”
you glare at him through your lashes. “it’s already dirty, idiot.”
he laughs at your pretty face glaring up at him. your cheeks are still flushed, lashes wet, and your lips are in a frown but satoru swears you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. he folds his hand over yours and dips his head to kiss you warm & slow. you gasp as his tongue pushes in, a soft moan leaving your lips as his tongue grazes yours.
“another time,” he murmurs against your lips. “no pouting, yeah?”
you pout anyways, and satoru kisses it off.
3. NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND !
satoru is driving too fast.
his jaw is tight, knuckles white against the steering as you clutch your seatbelt beside him. your heart hammers against your ribs but the engine soon slows, his foot easing down on the breaks as the car comes to a stop at a traffic light.
today’s match went bad, really bad, so bad to the point that afterwards you’d tried to console him and he’d simply walked past. you try not to let it get to you. you know how men are when it comes to losing in sports.
but satoru’s breathing settles beside you, so you try once more.
“you played good today.”
silence.
"i know you're upset," you continue, voice soft. "but it's just one game, and you'll get them next time.”
silence again. his jaw only ticks, face illuminated by the traffic light’s red glow. the seconds seem to stretch into minutes, and you fumble with your skirt.
“you did your best,” you turn to him. “that’s all that matters—“
“can you stop?”
you freeze.
satoru doesn’t look at you. his fingers tap against the steering as he lowers his foot to the gas pedal. he’s not speeding anymore, but the silence stretches & you can feel a lump clawing at your throat.
you bite your lip. and satoru’s mad, yes, but he’s got no right to talk to you like that or take his anger out on you. so you suck in a breath, try to correct him. “i was only trying to help. you don’t have to take it out on me—“
“do you ever get tired of talking?”
“what?”
but satoru continues. “you always have something to say, don’t you? you’re not my fucking girlfriend. and i don’t need your fucking comfort.”
you blink. the words don’t register at first, but soon your throat is closing up, and you’re nodding obediently before you can think any better of it. your skirt bunches in your hands as you try to keep your breathing steady. god forbid you give him a reason to snap at you once again.
“you’re right,” you try for sass but it fails. “and i won’t act like it again.”
but satoru sees you through the rearview mirror. your eyes are on your lap, like you’re still trying to process what just happened, your thumbs fiddling with the hem of your skirt. satoru only swallows, glances away. if he ignores you long enough, you’ll be just fine, right?
your breath hitches beside him and he crumbles immediately.
he’s already pulling over, unbuckling his belt to reach over the console. “no baby, i’m sorry,” he pleads, and maybe he shouldn’t because it only makes tears fall from your eyes. “shh baby don’t cry, i’m sorry, i’m so fucking sorry.”
he smushes your face into his chest, carding his fingers through your hair. you try to push him away but he takes your hand and presses it to his chest.
“didn’t mean to snap at you,” his breathing is ragged as he cups your face. “don’t cry baby, you know i hate it when you cry.”
you sniffle as he swipes a thumb over your wet lashes. “then what are we?”
satoru doesn’t answer. instead he presses his lips to yours, slow and warm, head tilting to deepen the kiss. “you’re my girl,” kiss. “my baby,” kiss. “my everything,” kiss.
he doesn’t say my girlfriend. but he doesn’t need to, right?
footballer!gojo doesn’t do relationships. and cheerleaders like you don’t make good girlfriends anyway. so you swallow the lump growing in your throat & let him part open your thighs.
▶︎︎ Noble (starring . fire lord!zuko & cult leader!geto)
synopsis . In which the two leaders of two entirely different lifestyles have one other thing in common outside of their lordship—their addiction to you.
content . afab!reader, atla x jjk au, porn with no plot, lots of hair pulling (duh), hints of obsession and possessiveness, eventual threesome & they kinda pass you back 'n forth, brothel worker!reader, missionary, marathon sex, zuko’s a lil awkward here ‘n there, fingering, oral sex, throat fucking, slight nipple play, praise, pet names, sexual use of fire bending, creampies, dirty talk (sugu's filthy like always), full nelson, zuko steams when he’s close/when he cums, manhandling, filth (cum eating), jealous innuendos, prone bone, etc.
word count . 8.7k (dunno how tht happened) || author's note: y’all know i had to. btw this is dedicated to tht one anon who said they’re tired of seeing me write foursomes & threesomes <3 banner art by rororogi mogera!
In a world where things like jujutsu sorcery and elemental benders exist simultaneously, one can only imagine how overwhelming life must be to live.
And yet, you’ve managed to find some sort of balance in the midst of it all as a humble brothel worker.
Well, not just any humble brothel worker but—the brothel worker, as titled by the many men and women of highest ranks in society who’ve had the pleasure of indulging in you for a night or two.
You had gathered many loyal clients over the years, people who'd come in and beg 'n plead for even a few minutes with you. By the time this palate of clients reached those of higher status, your rates naturally went up, and eventually you'd only be visited by those most worthy of you.
Which, is rather impressive for a mere whore.
You're unsure what it was about you that made you so special, but if you had to thank someone for your status in the society of prostitution, that someone would be Geto Suguru, who was the first to openly pick you as his favored escort.
After he came in to your brothel unmasked and open with who he was, many people of higher society began to follow suit until this trend eventually reached royal walls.
It was by then that you were sought out by only the best of the best. And while this was supposed to be a good thing for you, considering it meant much better pay and (thankfully) less harassment, you found yourself facing a new difficulty as your two highest paying clients began to butt heads and clash with their timing...
——
On one hand, you had well known cultist leader Geto Suguru who you'd wrapped around your pretty little finger from his first night with you.
You recall said first night like it were yesterday.
Dimmed lanterns littered the brothel's corners and ceilings, leaving arrays of shadows and silhouettes to splay out across the rich velvet-draped walls whilst the scent of sex 'n sin coated the air.
You were leaning against a scrupulously carved wooden bar, the silks of your robe slanting off your right shoulder—leaving room for a teasing curve of your breasts to spill out to the varying patrons winding about. It'd been a rather busy night for you, as you'd tended to at least three clients back to back prior to finding this short moment for yourself.
Most could hardly afford an entire night with you at this time, even though you weren't considered the best of the best just yet. This brothel brought in all sorts of lost souls, a diverse set individuals who's cash and coin could bring them whatever flesh they craved when their desires ran most rampant.
Your eyes had scanned the room time and time again in search of who to approach, as it was also rather rare that you'd have a second to do the approaching—most came to you. But, this night had been wildly different.
Your gaze plucked out the regulars and you grimaced as the prospect of having to approach one of those merchants who carried leering grins and uncomfortably grabby hands dawned on you. Although you'd a busy night thus far, you were quite hungry for cash.
All you wanted was one more customer before you'd call it a successful night.
You debated on approaching some soldiers who's hands you knew to itch for softness, deeply considering how their pockets tended to run rather deep.
When such powerful fascinations of magic existed, it was only natural that all sorts of people existed as well. There were benders of four different kinds, sorcerers who had the most complex of abilities, mixes of both who existed, and lastly—regular people who carried no special, otherworldly aptitudes whatsoever.
That last category is where you fall. But, you suppose being able to bend your back just right and give people a taste of something far sweeter than any source of supernatural abilities out there was something to be moderately proud of.
It was in this very brothel that you felt most powerful, and nothing nor anyone could take that away from you.
Especially not by the time Geto entered the establishment for the first time.
Staggering in at over six feet tall, cloaked in black from head to toe with half of his face hidden behind an ornate mask, he was certainly nothing to be played with when you first saw him.
You—and everyone else in a hundred mile radius—had heard many rumors and tales of the infamous Geto Suguru. How he slaughtered his own family, was actively wanted for doing so by members of Jujutsu Society, and had some sort of cult brewing about to spread ideals of slaughter in regards to any non-sorcerers.
But, given the mask he had on, you held no idea that the man snapping his eyes your way was him.
Though, looking back on it now, it should've been obvious. Only half of his face was concealed but most should be able to recognize that sharp jawline and those seductive eyes of amethyst hue from a mile away. Not to mention the long tresses of raven black that cascaded down his back, swishing with much elegance as he paced deeper into the brothel—half of it pulled up into quite the signature bun.
"You," He'd been standing in front of you much faster than you had time to prepare yourself for, his voice laced with this smooth purr that—again—anyone should've been able to recognize.
You remember the way you straightened up almost immediately, your gaze meeting his as the tension of his visual scrutiny fell down on you. Luckily for you, you were able to collect yourself just in time to offer a short nod of your head, "Of course."
You had to force steadiness in your voice just to maintain your usual confidence. No way were you about to let some masked stranger get you all nervous.
...Even if the masked stranger in question undressed you with his eyes in a way you swear you've never experienced before.
You ended up leading him up the creaky set of stairs to your left. It was apparent in how quiet he was along the way that he hadn't been a man of many words, at least not to people he didn't know—ergo, you.
Once upstairs, he followed you down the relatively quiet hall, the only source of sound coming from the soft click of a shutting door as you eventually brought him into a private room.
His eyes didn't stay on you long, too eager to take in the intimate space around him. He'd linger his gaze over the wide bed, scoff quietly at the cheap-looking sheets tossed over it, and shift in his standing as he contemplated deeply on all the decisions that led him here.
Then his attention found you again.
Whilst he had reminded dormant, you slowly turned around to face him and wasted little time in working to untie your velvety robes. The fabrics fell to pool at your feet, and for anyone who lived a life much different to this one—the way things played out may have come off as strange. But for you, having a client who spoke very little such as this one wasn't unusual in the slightest.
Hell, it was on nights like that where you preferred it most, honestly.
"Shall I uh..." Your voice wavered a moment but you quickly made up for it via gesturing your hand out to the man. Then you pacing closer to him, "Shall I help you?" You offered simply, your movement extending out into a reach as you went for his clothing.
A hand met your wrist and his head shook, "Not yet."
You'd known the gentleman for no longer than twenty minutes and yet only three words had come your way. How strange.
Unfortunately, you weren't given much time to ponder on his aloofness since you were distracted by the way his hand left you and went for his mask. He lifted it away and you gasped almost immediately at the reveal, stumbling back a bit to move your hands over your mouth.
In one respect, you were scared shitless. The man known for bringing harm to non-sorcerers was currently standing in front of you, a non-sorcerer. And in the other respect, it was hard to be entirely fearful when he had the face of an angel.
Most men prior to this instance weren't always the easiest on the eyes, and it was quite the rarity for you to be in a situation like this.
A few lengthy strands of hair framed the upper half of his now-revealed face and fuck if he wasn't the most beautiful man you'd ever laid your eyes on.
"You look scared," Geto pointed out bluntly, his gaze inert. He watched closely at the way the center of your throat moved with the gulp you took.
Cute.
You wanted to swipe your robes back up from the floor and run for your life, but what good would that really do you?
"Well, you're known for..." Your words failed you entirely but you tried your best to vocalize your scattered thoughts. "A-And I'm not a—"
"A sorcerer? I know," He fills in for you, closing the distance you'd tried to create between the two of you. "But, I don't need you to be a sorcerer to fuck you, do I?"
It was in that moment, and with those words, that you remembered what exactly your job was. Fearing that this man would harm you despite him literally coming to this establishment to feed into whatever lust lived inside him was mildly foolish on your part.
You eventually let your head nod understandingly, your gaze sinking to the floor in slight embarrassment. Meanwhile he'd found himself amused. He knew from the moment he laid eyes on you that you'd easily become his exception for the sorcerer exclusive world he wanted to eventually create.
Geto stepped forward and went to take your wrists into his hands again, tugging you towards him and guiding your palms to his torso. "You can undress me now," He instructed.
Your hands were shaking slightly as you did so, struggling to swallow that lingering fear all the way down. It wasn't until you'd managed his top off that he moved to grab at your jaw rather roughly, forcing your head up and your eyes on his.
You gasped again, "Lord Geto, I—"
"Suguru will suffice," He murmured before you could even finish, tipping his head to the side and leaning in to caress your lips with his own. "I am yours more than you are mine tonight, alright?"
It was obvious he was trying to soothe your nerves but it wasn't really working until his lips fell onto yours. Your eyes went wide when he kissed you, stuck in your own shock and unable to bring yourself back into the moment.
Then, by the time his tongue darted out to tap at the corners of your mouth seeking entry, you regained some of yourself and managed to part your lips for him. After which his tongue met with yours and it was as though a flip had been switched in your head.
Your body pushed forward into his without second thought and you caught him by surprise quickly enough for him to grunt into your mouth. The taste of Geto on your tongue was something you'd never forget—not by a long shot.
One of your hands flew up to the side of his face to trace his cheek as your other explored the expanse of his abs, fingertips dipping against every sharp curve. Geto's body shuddered under your suddenly initiative touch, his breath clinging to his lungs and refusing to leave him in a timely manner.
A single slip of tongues was all it took for you to feel like yourself again and that was enough to have Geto reeling. Your thumb swiped against his cheek in a fashion more tender than he'd ever experienced in his life and he was completely under your figurative spell until your other hand began to dip past his waistband.
After a few minutes of exchanging saliva and soft moans, he'd unconsciously pushed you back against the bed. You pulled away from him and moved to sink to your knees without him having to say anything—leaving him to miss the feel of your tits against his naked chest.
Geto's hand came to the top of your head carefully as you tugged at his dark slacks, letting them plunge to the floor so that his erect cock could spring free. The man swears he caught a little twinkle in your eye upon watching how his dick came slapping up against his abdomen. Perhaps you were a bit more passionate about your job than he'd realized.
His cock was unduly thick, tannish length standing tall and curved whilst it dripped excessively with precum from the plump tip. You were salivating before you'd even copped a proper feel.
Your eyes flicked upward and he peered down at you expectantly, cocking a brow as if to ask what was taking you so long. You never cared much for being rushed but something told you that his neediness would somehow make everything worth it soon enough.
Then your mouth met his tip and you licked slowly, savoring the new taste of him on your tongue. He groaned faintly before moving to thread his fingers into your hair for a better grip on your head, his hips instinctively rocking forward. Your lips stretched around his cock as you swallowed him in, drool spilling out from the sides and quick to make a mess of your face.
Geto wasn't hesitant in fucking your mouth, especially with how good you were at using it. Your tongue did these tricks against him that he'd never felt before and it had his balls aching for release within a matter of minutes.
Hell, it had him thinking maybe he should've visited a brothel sooner!
"Jus' like that," Came from his purring tongue, "Take every inch of me-, fuck—mhmm, stretch that throat out. That's perfect." He grunted, voice laced with a nasty cadence.
You'd gag slightly as he knocked against the back of your throat, but it was a feeling you'd grown quite used to over time so you've come to enjoy it more than anything. Geto didn't take much longer to use your mouth as if it were specifically shaped to accommodate the size of his fat cock.
When he felt himself growing close, he plucked you right off of him and let the slops of saliva web all in between his tip and your chin. Then he'd hauled you up and tossed you onto the bed, abandoning thoughts of his own pleasure just to come spread your legs and kneel himself between them.
It wasn't unusual for clients to eat you out per-se, but it was quite uncommon.
Surging forward with no preamble, Geto buried his face into your sappy folds, his tongue coming forward with a spongey greeting to soak in your arousal. In the midst of this, you caught the man smiling like he'd proved something to himself just from getting a taste of you. Whatever that something was is entirely unbeknownst to you but, it matters little in the long run.
"Suguru," You tested, letting his name fall from you for the first time and watching how he instantly ground his hips forward to rub his bare cock against the bedsheets.
His lips were glistening in the remnants of you as his head fwipped upwards, "Again, pretty. Say it like you mean it." Geto ordered.
You did exactly that whilst he dove right back in, his hand coming out of seemingly nowhere to add two fingers into you and stretch you open on par with the rotational laps of his tongue.
"Mmngh! Sugu-, shit.." You huffed breathlessly beneath him and the workings of his mouth.
It seemed as though the sudden nickname you spewed was enough to send him into this feral state of feasting, mouth widening against your pussy just to suck 'n kiss alllll over you like you deserved to be sucked 'n kissed on. Your fingers tangled into his hair somewhere along the way but it began to grip and tug as you felt your orgasm approaching.
The skin of your thighs caged his head as your voice grew loud enough to escape the otherwise sound-proof walls of the room.
Directly after your orgasm flooded both his tongue and his thick fingers, Geto had no plans on letting you recover from it.
That first night with him was quick in the best way imaginable.
Geto rose to position his achy cock at your entrance, letting the head smack! in between your puffy folds a couple times before he started pushing in. Your hands went out to grip at the surrounding sheets and you whined whilst he stretched you out.
He was the first client of yours to ever make you feel so immersed in the acts of sexual pleasure, but far from the last.
He waited for the walls of your cunt to adjust to his thick size before he worked a steady pace into you, soon fucking you in a way that's simply incomparable to what you were used to. Your body rocked and rocked against the bed with his every thrust, his hands moving from the sheets to your hips, then to your breasts just to squeeze your body like he felt you needed.
One moment he was groaning and grunting above you about how good you felt, and the next his hands were on the undersides of your thighs, forcing your body to bend how he wanted as his voice curved all into your ear.
"Tell me something," He husked heavily, his hair framing your body with the way it fell out all messily. "How many cocks do you actually enjoy taking, hm?"
You choked.
Sure, men had asked you questions like that before but... most weren't too concerned with the others that you'd been with.
Cunt clenching around him, "I-I... I don't know-, nngh!"
At that, Geto had lifted himself just enough to grab ahold of your face like he'd done earlier, staring your dead in the eyes whilst his hips came rocking down into you—cock fucking the air right out of your lungs. "Well, when you make faces like that... I can't help but feel like mine is the only correct answer, no?"
It was your first night with the man and yet, you knew for a fact you had him right were you wanted him. A few have gotten addicted to you in the past, sure. But their pockets never aligned with their desires.
Not like Geto's did.
He eventually emptied himself into you, and wound up leaving you with a tip large enough to prevent you from working at all if you wished it so.
Then he became a recurring customer. Actually, scratch that, Geto Suguru became the recurring customer (for a while, anyway).
If you were with someone, he'd have them quickly dismissed and pay three times whatever the person you were with had been charged plus some just to make it happen.
Not only that, but he also showed up unmasked after his first night with you. You're unsure why exactly he did that when all this did was bring about attention to you.
Words of your successfully seductive nature spread all across the lands because of him, reaching places you never could've imagined for yourself.
...Such as the Fire Nation.
Or, more specifically, the Fire Nation's palace.
——
With Geto highlighting your sexual talents, you got new clients of all sorts. Other well-renowned jujutsu sorcerers, the most talented of benders from varying nations, etc.
The madam of your brothel helped you to maintain appearances, slowly viewing you differently over time, and eventually realizing that you were becoming her most starred worker—keenly peeping the investment she'd have to put into you in order to keep this flow of high societal members coming.
Your older garments, albeit nothing wrong with them, were quickly replaced with new silks that were more intricate and softer—fitting for a woman of your stature now. Your room had been moved higher within the building, farther from the bumbling noise of the common floor, and closer to those who could afford the best discretion.
Even the way your coworkers spoke to you had shifted. Some interacted with you whilst carrying awe in their eyes, others moving with resentment.
But through all this, Geto kept coming back, continued to remain your most devoted and loyal client.
That is, until Fire Lord Zuko waltzed in one night.
You were tucked into the comforts of your room when he'd visited the brothel, deaf to the commotion occurring just beyond your door.
Whispers flooded the hallways just outside, along with shocked gasps, attemptive passing touches, and failed glances of seduction as he made his way towards your room. Then came one firm knock to your door, the sound loud enough to startle you a bit.
You abandoned whatever it was you were tending to and made haste in approaching the door. As you moved to open it, you were left star-stuck from the sight of regal fabrics alone. Before you even looked up to see who was under said fabrics, you felt your heart lurch in your chest.
Then you peeked upwards and gasped rather animatedly, the folded fan you had in your hand fluttering to the floor. "L-Lord Zuko," You stammered in shock.
It was instantaneous the way you let your head lower into a rightful bow after catching the slightest shift in his brow, to which his face had lightened up a little in surprise.
Then came the tenderness of his voice, "You... don't have to do that." Zuko breathed, moving to lightly take your hands into his own.
You lifted your chin back up shortly after, blinking all dumbfoundedly at the man, "But..." As your words trailed off, he was firm in holding both your gaze and your hands.
His skin was warm against yours, eyes gorgeous in their golden hue, and long black hair falling loose to frame some of his tall figure. It was clear that here—in this brothel with you—there was no veil of inherent royalty between you and him.
The burn scar that twisted his left eye and cheek remain bare for you to take all the way in. It was unreal to have the Fire Lord standing right in front of you like this. One could only dream of such a thing, truly.
Within the spark of a moment that dwindled between the both of you, he let himself unconsciously lean a little closer to you. Husking a soft-spoken, "I'm not the first of royal status to pay you a visit, am I?" He asked.
You cleared your throat, "No, no, of course not."
Then you let your hands depart from his and you took a step back, moving your arm out to gesture him into entering your bed chambers. Zuko seemed to be delighted by the way you regained your comfort thus far, his shoulders relaxing as he inched forward.
Just before his foot fully passed the doorway, he paused and cut his eye back over his shoulder. Everyone who he'd passed whilst making his way here had been watching that entire little interaction, but the moment Zuko looked back at them all, they'd flinched and scrammed to return to whatever mindless tasks they'd been busy with before.
With the hallway cleared from a mere glance—with the exception of one or two fire nation guards—he let out a short breath through his nose and then turned to enter your quarters, the ends of his fashionably red and gold attire fluttering behind his every step.
You shut the door behind him and pressed your forehead against it for a moment. Your heart was pounding with every lengthy second that dragged by.
Fire Lord Zuko is standing in your room.
Fire Lord Zuko is standing in your room.
Fire. Lord. Zuko. is standing. in your room.
How do you even-
"Miss..?" He calls out almost sweetly, unintentionally making you flinch out of your thoughts.
You gulp, swirling around to face him only to swirl yourself right into his chest.
When had he gotten so close?
Your hands fly up to steady yourself—lightly grabbing onto him—and you squeeze your eyes shut, "My apologies, my lord..." You mumble, "As you can see, your arrival has startled me greatly."
Something soft leaves his lungs as his hands carefully meet your arms, "Why's that?" Fuck, his voice was so warm.
Your eyes bat themself open before moving up to meet with his. "...Are you seriously asking me that?" You blurt out.
Zuko stares at you an awkward moment.
He obviously wasn't used to having anyone speak so casually to him, and while he somewhat expected it before coming into this, it still manages to catch him off guard.
Leading him to let out a harmless scoff, "Pardon me for my confusion, miss. I just thought you'd be used to nobles visiting you by now. I've heard the rumors, after all."
You stare right back at him before tilting your head cluelessly, "Rumors?"
Zuko’s eyes skim over every inch of your face, appreciating the lack of space between your body and his already. Then he smiles ever so slightly, "You don't even know what people speak of you, huh?"
Your head shakes.
"They say you're the best," He explains steadily, lifting a hand to whisk a single strand of hair away from your face, "That a single night with you is enough to heal a broken heart of any sorts."
"Does that imply that your heart is recently broken, my lord?" You tease.
His hand halts for a second. Then his grin deepens, "It's not. I'm uh... I'm only reiterating what I've heard of you."
Playfully rolling your eyes, "Well, those rumors of me are wildly dramatic."
His eyebrow raises as if to challenge your claims, “Are they?"
You stand your ground, "I do whatever is asked of me and I get paid, there's nothing more to it."
Zuko doesn’t even try to hide the way he doesn’t quite believe you. Something threading on smug flickers across his expression whilst his thumb maps out the side of your face, drawing itself down towards your mouth.
You get lost in his touch faster than you can even help yourself. Everything about Zuko is just warm—there’s hardly another way to put it. His voice is velvety and tender on your ears, never too much bass or aggressiveness in the words that leave him.
In fact, it’s the exact opposite.
Every syllable slides off his tongue with this crowned elegance that somehow doesn’t ever strike your eardrums as too entitled or belittling in any way. "And yet word of your reputation alone has led me to you." Zuko says, the tip of his thumb finally greeting your bottom lip.
The gloss resting there makes him mouth out the word pretty and you feel your breath hitching, as if his compliment weighed far more than any other you’d ever received.
"For reasons far beyond me,” You murmur in response as he thumbs your lips apart slowly.
Zuko’s hand gathers the rest of your chin into his hold to lift your head further up and he spreads your lips apart from one another fully as he whispers, "Your humbleness is honorable, sweetheart."
Something in your chest flips right then.
Sweetheart.
A nickname you’ve heard time ‘n time again. A nickname you should be used to hearing by now.
But when it comes from him…
The look in your eyes change as you push your mouth against the pad of his thumb, “I could show you some other honorable things, my lord.”
His brow furrows and you hear a breath escape him, having hitched somewhere in his throat. “That's what I'm here for, but I'm not sure honorable is the right… word...” Zuko trails off, quickly getting enamored in the way you move your mouth to take in his thumb.
He’s not entirely a stranger to seduction, but it didn’t take long for him to figure someone like you should be something much more than a mere brothel worker. If this was something you truly took passion in—surely becoming his concubine would be much more fitting.
And with your tongue rounding his thumb in a manner meant to imitate the way it later would his cock, Zuko knows he’ll be returning to this brothel many times before he’s even half way satisfied with indulging in you.
He soon plucks his thumb from your mouth and moves to grab ahold of your face, tipping his head opposite of yours, and then leaning in as if to kiss you.
Zuko slows himself just short of his lips colliding with yours and you nearly whine at the teasing gesture. The man lets your breaths mingle and swirl into one another, exchanging waves of intimacy prior to engaging in the real thing.
Then, just to work you right up, he smirks and utters, “You want it?” as if you weren’t already a melting mess of need in his palms. He didn't realize it then, but you could tell this whole thing was new to him in one way or another.
You nod almost stupidly though, “Please?”
Zuko’s lips slip down onto yours and both of you hum into the kiss almost immediately. He’s holding your face like you’re the most dearest thing to him and you’re reeling in the fact that you’re kissing the Fire Lord himself.
And then in a matter of minutes the both of you go from tentative kisses and gentle moans to the tugging of clothing and a fiery handling of one another.
Zuko very nearly shreds your robes to ash just to get his hands on your bare skin—his touches eager as he soon has your tits fondled perfectly within his palms while still working your mouth over with his own.
He’d kiss you until you were breathless and clinging to him for more, ignoring how your hands tried to dip down for his cock, and smoothly bringing his mouth down to your chest.
His lips cupped one of your nipples before you had time to react, sucking and tugging on the perky bud with much fervor. “Mmmgnh,” Zuko hummed against you whilst rolling his tongue around in pleasureful little circles.
The first night with him was nearly as fast as the first night with Geto had been. Nearly.
There were little differences between the two men when they were with you. Both seemed eager and happy to please you more than they did themselves.
Zuko spent an almost concerning amount of time slobbering against your tits before even thinking of pulling his dick out. And once he did free himself from the restraints of his regal clothing, you’d already been laid down on the mattress in the particular position he planned on taking you in.
You laid on your stomach—body decorated and smothered in all sorts of markings induced from Zuko’s incessant mouth—and he was soon positioning his thighs around your own with his cock swinging out just above your ass.
When Zuko was especially turned on, bits of steam would puff out from his nose. A cute fact of which you come to pick up on over time, of course.
Sometimes you’d feel said steam caress your back when he took you from behind as he was now. The balmy head of his long cock would prod at your weepy pussy lips before he’d ease himself in, and by then, he was already a mess.
You’d push your hips back against him and he’d nearly lose his balance above you, a short huff that sounds dangerously close to a whine slipping right out of his lungs.
“So beautiful…” He’d coo, noticing how you shudder under the heated touch of his fingertips as they traveled the curve in your spine. Then he’d flatten his hand somewhere in the center of it and force your arch to deepen as he humped his dick into your wetly ringing cunt.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head instantly and drool danced out the side of your mouth along with a moan of his name, “F-Fuuck, Zuko.”
He adored the sound—felt himself growing wildly enamored by it with each time it dangled off of your tongue. The rumors about you were nothing compared to feeling you.
Your walls sucked him in to the hilt without him even having to move much, clenching around his cock in rhythmic motions that had his mind going blank for moments at a time. Zuko was thankful he’d had you in prone bone, otherwise you’d see just how red ‘n pink his cheeks had colored over just from fucking you.
Even so, he couldn’t control the sounds he let out. The way he’d grunt and then thrust as if to distract you from it, loving how you continued to gasp out directly after.
Up until you’d angled your head back to look at him, a gorgeously cockdrunk look dazzling over your glossy eyes. He’d never seen something so sinfully beautiful in his life.
Zuko’s hips were snapping down into you faster than he realized, his hand moving to your chin to force your head further back the moment you tried to look away from him. The nerve you had to give him a taste of such a perfect expression just to hide it from him seconds later.
How rude.
His body craned down and his face was mere centimeters from yours as his cockhead thrashed against the inner depths of your cunt. The two of you panted and moaned in sync, his jaw slacking from how good it felt to be inside you whilst fucking you into making that addictive expression.
It wasn’t until he was getting close that you felt his balls smack smack smacking! against your skin harder, and the faint smell of something burning coming from somewhere to your left.
There’d been incidents in the past—especially with fire benders—where silk sheets had been burnt within the brothel. You were no stranger to the scent, you knew exactly what it was without having to place your eyes on it.
Even so, your head ached to turn and locate the source of the fiery smell, but Zuko wasn’t having it. His veins trailing his cock throbbed and he groaned out all loudly as he kept your head in place with a steeling grip.
Huffing, “Shit-, i-ignore it.” as he continued on, despite the smell getting stronger.
You gasped and your body was conformed entirely to his hold on you, “But-, ah! You’ll burn something, my—“
“Say my name,” The Fire Lord demanded all of a sudden, his brow pressing inward as frustration built up across his face.
“Zuko,” You whined, “The sheets will—“
Again cutting you off, he tipped your head further up and swallowed up your words by kissing you. You struggled to kiss him back properly because of how mean his hips were coming down on you, but you tried your best.
When he finally pulled his mouth from yours, you saw how blissed-out his eyes had been. “Ignore the burning, focus on my cock. I know how to-, fuck.. how to control myself. No fires will be—god, you feel so good—c-caused… I promise.”
Even as he tried to reassure you, he was actively burning a hole into your favorite sheet set. Of course, these could be easily replaced by him—but it was the principle of it all, y’know?
His cock twitched inside you in sync with the flickering flames coming from his fingertips. You began to drool and he panted above you, letting his grunts and faint whines speak for his feels of pleasure instead of his tongue. The bedding was left singed due to his flames but you didn't mind it too much.
At least, considering how he most definitely pays you more than you ever could've imagined for yourself.
He ended up cumming somewhere on your back, with his dick going flaccid just between your ass cheeks shortly after. Your head fell down into the sheets and you found yourself smiling at the fact that the Fire Lord just fucked you.
You didn't mean to brag buuut... no one else could say that happened to them!
Those flames of his died out just after he calmed down and he soon fell to your side, his eyes going up to the ceiling to relish in what he'd just done.
Zuko had been stressed for weeks, months even, but that first night in the brothel with you was more than enough to motivate him for the next upcoming days.
Which is precisely why he kept coming back. Over and over and over and over again until he was just as recurring of a customer as Geto had been.
——
This routine of yours was manageable enough for a time. A long time, in fact.
Months went by before your time spent with Geto and Zuko separately ever conflicted with one another. But, of course, it was only a matter of time before they'd cross paths.
The beloved brothel of yours was alive 'n thriving with its usual throng up until a servant had come banging on your door all urgently, calling your name out with her voice shaking as if freightened.
Her voice quakes from outside your door, "Two arrivals, miss—L-Lord Zuko and.. and Lord Geto. They're both requesting y-"
"Send them in," You call back to her before her statement could even find its end.
"Together?" She squeaked.
You finally approached the door and move to swing it open, flashing a her a gorgeously perfected smile at the frightened lady, "Why, of course."
"...But miss, they're both demanding to see you separately." She warned.
"No matter," Your hand moved to wave off her words, "If they want me as badly as they so claim, they'll come to me regardless of who else decides to do the same."
The servant bats her lashes at you a few times, by far deeming you as the craziest lady currently occupying this brothel. It's not that serving two clients at the same time was uncommon, but the fact that you wanted to take in your highest paying clients—two men of very high status—at the same time...?
You had guts. Perhaps the attention you'd been receiving lately had gone to your head? Suppose Lord Zuko set this entire place ablaze simply because he doesn't feel like sharing, what then—
"The longer you stand there staring at me, the more impatient my gentlemen grow," You remind the poor servant, snapping her out of her gaze.
She blinks repetitively before bowing sharply and then turning on her heels. Then you watch her rush down the hall to go fetch your desired men.
You disappeared back into your room shortly after and patiently waited for your door to fly back open, this time with your sought-after guests. It'd been quite some time since you'd participated in a threesome so, part of you was definitely thrilled at the prospect.
And luckily for you, Geto nor Zuko cared much—or at all, really—about who the other guest coming to see you was. They even came bursting into your room together, Zuko first and Geto following closely behind him.
It was obvious without a word that they'd had enough time on the walk towards your quarters to discuss what was to take place. You could tell by the way they came in all silent.
Before this, you'd known both men to become more talkative over time when they came to see you. Geto would preach to you about his beliefs that you definitely didn't care about and Zuko would spend his free time with you to vent about the weight of royal responsibilities resting on his shoulders.
You enjoyed these things from them, of course. But at the end of the day, you had a role to play. A job to do.
And tonight—despite the both of them entering your room together—was absolutely no different. It was here nor there what few words were exchanged between the time it took for them to get themselves undressed and for you to figure out how exactly they'd decided on sharing you tonight.
All you know is that one moment they were slowly taking off their garments as you watched patiently—awaiting some sort of direction—and the next, Zuko's mouth was on yours.
You wanted to ask them how they decided on who'd get to do what first, especially considering that they're two entirely different people but neither of them gave you a chance to do so.
Luckily enough, your question is answered somewhere after Zuko kisses you until you were a drooling mess between your thighs and Geto lapped away at said drooling mess.
The room was heavy-, nearly clouded with the mixed scent of arousal and sweat, sheets rumpled up from the rapidly escalating actions. First you were between making out with Zuko while Geto did the same with your cunt, and then you found yourself positioned between them.
It was in that same position—arched over like some slut as Geto moved himself behind you, hand gripping over your ass whilst his cock rubbed between your cheeks—that the two finally started releasing more than a moan or a grunt.
You'd argue that Geto started it off by saying, "Ah, look at you.." after gliding his cock neatly in between your sodden folds. He thrust forward once and watched how your ass came bouncing against his sharp pelvis. Then he huffed, "Such a sweet girl, always sucking me in like you missed me-, fuck. Did you miss me, gorgeous?"
Your jaw fell open to reply to him but you were crudely cut off by Zuko, who was busy nudging his cock in between your lips. When your eyes lifted up, you saw how he had a bulky arm over his face as if to his his expression from you. Even so, his other hand was busy working his shaft down the center of your tongue—as if whatever Geto was saying to you wasn't worthy of any sort of response.
You found it funny at first, but then they started to go back 'n forth.
Zuko was matching the pace Geto was quick to set in a matter of seconds, your body left to wobble back and forth between them.
"No one pleases me like you do," Zuko murmured, the sudden praise catching you by surprise. "Fuck-," his voice pitches and you caught how his eyes fluttered. Then his hips ever so carefully grind forward, his balmy tip pressing a smear of precum down your throat and leaving a slopped smooch at the back of it.
Your cheeks hollowed out then and Geto was left to feel the way your cunt suddenly soaked around his dick. His hands latched onto your hips and you shuddered in pleasure upon feeling his fingers ground into your skin as his snapped forward a little sharper.
It was like he was competing with Zuko—silently trying to figure out who could hit the best spots inside you and say the right things just to get you wetter. Unfortunately for the crowned man in front of you, Geto's sneakily slipping a hand under you to swish the pads of his fingers over your clit 'n bring you to a quick orgasm on his cock.
Boasting about it directly after as a crooked smile crafts itself into his face, "There's that sloppy mess I was lookin' for. Shit-, I love the way you feel when you cum on me like that."
"Mmgh-, mmpfh!" You're mumbling against Zuko's dick. What exactly you were trying to say is lost to both men, as they mutually assume you were simply moaning.
Zuko's attention is caught by the man behind you though. His eyes flicking over to him as his arm drops from his face and he frowns. Mumbling, "She only did that cause of me..."
"Oh yeah?" Geto looks up immediately, cocking his head left while keeping his girth dormant inside your gummy walls. He gives you some time to focus more on sucking Zuko off properly, and delightedly enjoys in the way your pussy smothers his cock in a thin shimmery layer of release. "And what exactly makes you think that, your highness?" He mocks.
The Fire Lord rolls his eyes, "Well, she's—ah, heyyy," he looks down at you, "At least give me a second to t-talk, won't you?"
You drunkenly peer up at him, his cock still bulging in between your swollen lips. A trickle of saliva drips down and falls in between the valley of his balls, leading Zuko to shiver as his hand grips onto your head tightly.
Doing his best to ignore you anyway, his attention moves to Geto again. "As I was trying to say... she likes-, hah, getting her throat fucked," He points out with an intentionally jerky thrust of his hips, leading your jaw to ache for a split second from how deep in your trachea he was reaching.
Geto pulls himself out of you, dick flitting up into the air with droplets of your arousal hanging from it in dewy little strings. He glances at the sinful display for a second and uses his hand to grab his cock and tap it against your ass a couple times.
You let out another hum or two against Zuko in reaction.
To which Geto chuckles, "Yeahhh, I don't think she came because of you at all. But, I'll let you think that."
Zuko all but pouts upon hearing that. It was almost as though his honor or something was being contested with those words. So, he releases a chuff and practically snatches his length out of your warm facial cavern. "I don't take kindly to being challenged," He claims, ignoring your mouth that's steadily pressing forward for more.
"Nobody's challenging you, Lord Zuko." Geto shot back before moving his hands up into a surrendering gesture and shutting his eyes calmly. "Alls I'm saying is that she came on my cock, not yours-," His eyes opened slowly and his arrogant expression fell, "Uh, what're you doing?"
"Proving you wrong," Zuko answered casually as if he weren't currently hauling you up into his arms and spreading you out into a particularly debauched full nelson. You feel the firmness of his muscles rubbing against all sorts of crevices and nooks of your skin, only making you soak more.
His arms had hooked under your knees, folding your body into that perfect hold—your arms pinned behind your back, and plush thighs spread out widely. Your pussy was on full display, poor folds puffy 'n wet, exposed to Geto's hungry gaze as he watched intently.
"Like..." Geto blinks once-, twice upon seeing you spread out so broadly. "Like that?"
Zuko tuts, "Obviously."
You're squirming, naturally, but neither of them pay any mind to that either. Not your first—nor last—time in this position but fuck if it hadn't been a whiiiiiile since you'd been held up in such a precarious position.
"Hah. Fine then," Geto moves to slouch back against the bed, "Fuck her good, Fire Lord. Show me how uh," He nearly forgets his wording just from watching the other man's cock nudge up into position, "...Royal seed marks its territory, yeah?"
"Tch." Oh, Zuko was so annoyed.
With the way they were acting now, you hardly understood how the hell they agreed to share you in the first place. There's no way—
Something warmer pressing against your entrance, warmer than anything you've felt before. It wasn't an uncomfortable temperature or anything but there was this certain heat to it that made you flinch deeper into Zuko's grasp on you.
Then came his voice at the shell of your ear, "Feel that?" he whispered, hands holding you steady.
You shuddered, "Y-Yeah. Why're you so-, ah!"
He was pushing up into you before you had much time to question him. Zuko didn't need questions, he just needed to be snug inside that slobbering pussy of yours, stuffing you full of himself, and soon having you cream around him far more than you did on Geto.
...And if it took making his cock feel significantly different than Geto's did inside you via slight manipulation to the heat surrounding it, then so be it! You'd never have a moment long enough to question it anyways.
Y'know, since you're much too busy getting fucked dumb on his cock shortly after its slotted inside you. You're promptly displayed in front of Geto—who couldn't stop himself from tugging at his dick to the sight even if he tried—and your body feels almost tingly as Zuko plunges in and out of you.
He so easily lifted you up 'n down his cock, your pussy struggling to keep up with the pace as it squelched and left slicks of creaming arousal alllll over him.
The position allowed Zuko to hit deeper than he ever had before—arguably even deeper than Geto had too. Filthy juices slicked his cock, drooling down to his heavy balls whilst he bounced you in his arms.
You found your orgasm more times than you can count in that position but it took Zuko a bit to get there himself since he'd put so much focus and energy into getting you to cum on him harder than you did on Geto.
And even after, by the time he's obscenely thrusting his own load into you, Geto still looks as though he's got something up his sleeve.
The cult leader had spilt into his hand already but that mattered little, as he had one more thing in mind in order to win this imaginary competition he'd set.
Zuko pulled out of you and lowered your used body down gently onto the bed right in front of Geto. A mix of your release and his seed leaked out from inside you. He moved a hand to the top of your head to pat you softly and wiped sweat from his brow before casting Geto a glance, "There. I win."
The sly man smirked, "Did you?"
"I did," Zuko confirms, shrugging. "There's nothing else you can do to—"
He is oh-so-unfortunately cut off by Geto moving forward to nestle in between your legs.
Zuko clears some shakiness out of his throat, "You... You're not about to do what I think you are... r-right?"
Geto merely winks at the man before pushing your jittery legs apart. Your back falls towards Zuko, who easily catches you, and is left to watch Geto angle downwards.
Your pussy glistened with the evidence of Zuko spilling into you, a milky white left to leak from your hole. "How pretty," was the last thing Geto murmured before he did the unimaginable and dove in.
His tongue came in flat and broad as it lapped at your folds, just nasty in the way he scooped up the mingled folds onto it.
He sucked appreciatively on your cunt but you were whimpering above him, tugging at his hair and then pushing at him because your head's all confused with pleasure and the back to back stimulation. Geto's tongue swished around your clit before he sucked on it, and you gasped.
Your hand flew somewhere before you were clutching onto both Zuko's arm and Geto's head as the man cleaned you.
Zuko transfixed on the sight for a long timed before you heard him say, "Doing something so filthy for her pleasure..." He managed a smile in between his words, "How honorable."
Geto plucked his mouth away then, just to respond. "What's with you and this honor thing, huh?"
"Just take the compliment," Zuko hummed.
"Give me a normal one and perhaps I will."
"That is a normal one."
You snort wearily, "Zuko, my dear, there is... hahhh, n-nothing normal about you and your fixation on things being honorable."
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໒ྀི 𝖘ynopsis: for as long as you've known him, you've been in love with your bestfriend, zuko. you were good at covering it up, but there was one issue: he won't stop cuddling you! (ft. modern!zuko)
໒ྀི 𝖜ord count: 5.3k
໒ྀི 𝖗ating: 18+, fluff, a little angst, p in v sex, unprotected sex, choking, half of a creampie, oral (fem receiving), smut without plot
Zuko was upset again.
You could tell just from the way he walked into your apartment, muscles rippling underneath his red number 1 jersey, lips set in a thin line and his messy hair falling from the bun he had put in before he left for his game.
He slammed the door behind him, sliding his cleats off with an annoyed huff when he couldn't get them undone as fast he wanted. Then he's ripping his jersey off and tossing it across the living room without a care to where it landed.
You were too sick and tired to yell at him that just because you had given him a key (for emergencies btw) doesn't mean he can just trash the place! Instead you just watched from the couch with a piece of tissue sticking out your left nostril, your favorite fuzzy blanket pulled up to your chest as you lay your head on the arm rest.
Zuko didn't even say anything when he finally looked at you, just huffed and frowned before moving to you and ripping your blanket off.
"Hey! I was using- ah!" You yelp when he freefalls onto your body face first, his large frame squishing you deeper into the couch as he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck and mumbles, his rough voice muffled and vibrating against your skin.
"I'll keep you warmer."
Your body goes into shock although Zuko cuddling you was nothing new. You two had been best friends since you were in diapers as your dad was best friends with his. You were as thick as thieves and maybe a few years ago this wouldn't have bothered you but now that you were sporting the biggest crush on him, possibly in love with him, it made your heart leap.
The way his hot breath blew onto your skin left it tingling as goosebumps formed on your arms. Just when you were going to tell him to move, he wraps both arms underneath you and tightly around your waist. He presses his body deeper and you actively have to fight back the urge to moan because his body was in fact warming you better than the blanket could.
Zuko was always heated like a furnace and you often joked that in another life he must have been able to wield fire.
"I'm guessing the game didn't go the way you wanted?" You allow a hand to rise, fingers scratching at his head in an effort to comfort him despite your own desperate state.
He simply groans and presses a kiss to your neck and you just about died. Your chest tightened with need, the knot coursing through your body until it landed between your thighs and you were aching with lust.
You laugh to keep yourself from groaning, spread your legs just a little wider so he could get more comfortable and so you could feel him better.
"Lost by one point, it's not fair. I carried that team, it was basically me vs eleven people."
You knew how passionate Zuko was about soccer and how talented he was. You both had been signed up when you were children, though you had switched to gymnastics only a few months later. He was competitive and to lose was a huge blow to his ego. This wasn't the first time he came to your house after and cuddled you.
You knew this was completely platonic, nothing romantic about it but a small part of you couldn't help but grow hopeful because despite the many cuddle sessions you shared, he'd never kissed you before. Was his anger clouding his judgement or was he trying to tell you he felt the same but couldn't say it?
Childhood trauma made it hard for him to communicate his feelings.
"That's still a win for you, but I get it. Wanna talk about it more?"
You take in a sharp breath when he lifts his head and stares down at you, his huge frame covering yours as he shakes his head no.
"Can you wash my hair after I shower?" Zuko's golden eyes burn into yours and your stomach is breakdancing, heart skipping a few beats as your pupils widen to truly take him in.
The way his hair fell into his face, half covering the scar on his left eye that he had gotten when you were young, skin tanned and glowing from the summer sun creeping through the curtains.
He was so beautiful that it was unfair. You wanted him to be yours, to pull his head down and finally kiss his lips, especially when he let his eyes drift to yours. You watched his throat as he swallowed and adjusted his body above you, his hips digging into yours.
"Yes." You whisper and swallow, annoyed that your cold wasn't letting you fully enjoy this moment, suddenly self conscious of the fact that you had tissue shoved into your nostril and probably looked ridiculous.
"If you don't squish me to death first."You awkwardly laugh and squirm when he doesn't respond and only tilts his head and smiles.
"Hmm, deal." Then his body is leaving yours and you regret ever saying anything.
You washed his hair that night and cried yourself to sleep later when he mentioned he had a date to get to, someone Sokka had introduced him to, but he would text you later to let you know how it went.
The next "cuddle" session had nearly gone your way and you wanted to curse your friend's entire bloodlines for ruining it.
It was a month after his game and you were sitting on his kitchen counter, idly scrolling through TikTok as Zuko moved about the room making dinner. You'd occasionally lift your head to sneak a look, pussy throbbing every time your eyes caught the way his compression shirt hugged his chest.
Zuko wasn't disgustingly ripped, you know, like how some guys were all muscles and veins to the point where it was unattractive. He sported the perfect athletic body thanks to years of soccer, wide shoulders with a narrow waist and his muscles were well defined.
He was perfect in every way possible. He had even decided to let his hair fall loose when you complained that he always had it up and it would start to knot if he didn’t free it every once in a while.
Twenty minutes pass with you scrolling and Zuko humming a song while standing over the stove. When a video popped up with that trend of girlfriends seeing if their boyfriends would grunt when lifting them up, you were instantly jumping down and practically skipping to your friend with a devious smile on your face.
"Zuuukooo. Hey, can we try this trend?" You stand to his side and shove the phone up into his face.
He squinted as he looked at the screen, shaking his head as he smiled and then sighed. He lowered the temperature on the stove and dropped the mixing spoon on the counter, turning to you and before you could process what was happening, you were in the air.
Zuko had lifted you without grunting and your face burned as you gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from falling, though his grip on your waist was tight enough. Both hands handling onto each side of you, your feet well off the ground as your legs dangled.
Zuko hadn't broken a sweat, pulling your body closer and your legs wrapped around him out of pure survival instinct. You pulled your face back to stare at him, words lost as your brain turned into goo. Your friend was a different kind of beast for sure.
"Now what? Do I get a treat for passing?" He's smirking and you wanted to throttle him, his words vibrating through your body and making your cunt clinch against nothing.
He had no idea the effect he had on you.
"I don't have anything to give you." You whisper and gulp when his eyes travel to your lips, just as they did last time. Butterflies were clogging your chest and stomach, your brain short-circuiting.
"Hmm." He pulls your body closer, hands moving to grip your ass for better leverage. "I'm sure there's something yo-"
A loud knock came from the front door and was followed by the sound of four giggling voices. Toph yelling for Zuko to open up. The man holding you grunts and rolls his eyes, lowering you and not moving his hands until your feet are back on the ground.
You were going to kill them violently.
As your friends all pile into the kitchen and Zuko resumes his cooking, you both can't help but steal secretive looks at each other. Well not that secretive since Katara noticed, because of course she did. You were too flushed, too lost to your thoughts to see the way she'd look between you both with a knowing smile.
You went home beyond horny that night, your rose toy turning on the moment your body hit your bed, a certain 6'2 soccer player on your mind.
The third cuddle session that changed things between you two was after your date went horribly wrong. The guy was terrible, he only talked about himself and refused to let you get a word in unless you were responding to something he said.
He was far from your type and when you apologized and told him you didn't think this was going to work, he fumed and told you that you weren't his kind of girl anyways. That hadn't bothered you but what did was the way he stormed out and left you with the bill.
You covered it but it would hurt your pockets since you were a broke college student with rent to pay and didn't have money to waste on losers like him. When Zuko had picked you up and you told him what happened, he apologized, offered to refund you for the bill and asked if you wanted him to find the man and make him apologize for disrespecting you.
You were fuming in the passenger seat of his car, arms crossed against your chest as you glared out the window watching the lights and buildings fly by.
"No, please just take me home."
Zuko only nods, tightening his hand around the wheel as his own anger burns hot. You could practically feel the heat simmering off his skin, his jaw taut as he focused on the road ahead. You’d think he was the one that was slighted.
When he pulled up outside your place, he killed the engine and looked at you, his eyes full of concern for the girl he had grown up with. "Want me to come in with you? I can stay until you feel better."
You were nodding without hesitation and thanking the gods that you had your own place outside of campus.
That's how you ended up with his chest pressed against your back, arm tightening around you as he pulled you close and tangled his leg with yours. Best friends cuddled all the time right? There was no reason for your body to be reacting the way it did, stomach twist as you felt his semi-hard cock press into your ass.
This was totally normal, even if your face turned into a furnace and your heart told you this was in fact, far from normal. You’d never cuddle with Sokka or Aang like this.
"You didn't deserve that, I'm sorry love." He breaks through your thoughts.
The way he whispered your nickname sent shivers through your body. It was something he had called you for the twenty plus years you knew each other but now that you were sure you were in love with him, it made the name feel too endearing.
You flipped in his arms so that you could see his face and the sight of him laying in your bed was so domestic, you could feel your body start to melt. The way he stared at you, mouth slightly open, eyes holding your gaze while his hand moved to your hip and rubbed circles on your exposed skin.
"Do you think I'm unloveable?" You whisper. The question wasn't because your date didn't think you were his type, more so that he had stormed off and left you sitting there like you meant nothing.
Zuko glares, seeming annoyed that you were letting some loser ruin your mood this much. It was unlike you but he had no idea that as your feelings grew for him so did your insecurities.
How could he ever want a girl like you? You didn't seem like someone he'd be attracted to based on his dating history and you hated that it made you question your own looks.
"How could you be unloveable when I love you?"
Your face flushed and you wiggle an inch away, eyes wide and heart stopping as he pulled you back.
"You can't just say things like that, plus it doesn't count. We've been friends for so long that you have no choice but to care for me. Don’t tease me, jerk."
He smirks and reaches down to grab your leg, lifting it over his hip so that he could pull you closer. You were sure your panties were ruined.
He perched his head onto his hand and stared down at you, a loose strand of hair falling from his bun. He moved his other hand from your leg and used it to feel the skin of your cheek, fingers moving until they gripped your chin.
Had you died? That was the only explanation for this heavenly feeling you were experiencing, your entire body trembling under his stare as you lost yourself to his eyes.
"Don't say stupid things then (name). It makes me irrationally mad."
"But it's true. How could someone love me-"
"Shut up."
The world tilted when he smashed his lips against yours, your body sinking embarrassingly fast into his. You locked your legs around his hips when he pushed you onto your back with his body placed on top of yours.
You both moan into the kiss, lips parting when his tongue rubs against them asking for permission. Your arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer, neither of you coming up for air until you lifted your hips to grind against his hard cock and he was pulling away to gasp.
"Fuck- don't do that love. I'm barely controlling myself right now, don't wanna disrespect you." And despite his words, his hips still grind into you and the way his cock rubs against your clothed pussy has you tossing your head back with a moan until he pulls you back.
"Please? It'll make me feel better, I need you so bad Zuko."
You blink at him with wide doe eyes and long lashes and his self control snaps as he pushes his lips against yours again, one hand grabbing your leg to keep it around his waist, the other pushed into the bed above your head so he could hold himself up.
"If I do this, there's no going back. You'll be mine only, I don't share."
Was this really happening right now? Zuko never showed any signs of being interested in you and while you were happy he shared the same feelings, you were genuinely confused, blinking up at your best friend with furrowed eyebrows.
"Do you- I didn't think you were interested in that way."
Zuko's chuckling, leaning down to place a kiss on your brow before pulling back to look at you again, golden eyes shining with amusement and lust.
"Did you think I was cuddling you for the sake of it? I've been in love with you since I was eleven, I just didn't think you felt the same until that day in my kitchen."
Tears well up in your ears and when one slips free, Zuko leans forward and kisses it away before taking your lips again, tongues tangling as you lace your fingers into his hair, pulling the hair tie loose and relishing in the way his hair falls free and into your face.
Zuko's softly cradling your face, kissing you like he had years of lost time to make up for and you let out all the love you had locked away for years. All of it pouring into one kiss, the weight of the world lifting off your shoulder because he loved you back and as more than just a friend.
He placed one more kiss to your lips before moving to your neck, licking and sucking hard so it bruises, hands moving to grab your covered tits.
"Quit teasing.. Zuko, s'not.. fair." You managed to say between heavy breaths, chest moving up and down harshly as you fought back the urge to push him back and start riding him without any foreplay.
"Let me take my time, love. Have so much to make up for."
And you keep your mouth shut, biting your lip to keep from crying because this was a dream come true. Zuko loved you, he loved you and this wasn't just your imagination, far better than one of the dreams you so often had.
After another minute he finally moves to sit back on his knees, not wasting any time and pulling your shirt off and then his. You gasp at being so suddenly exposed, not that it was the first time he saw you in a bra but never in this way. Not when he was about to fuck you and truly make you his.
“Just stay still for me, alright? You can do that for me, right baby?” His voice is low and laced with desire, your eyes growing cloudy and mouth filling with drool at the sight of his bare chest. His sweats were hanging low on his hips and the way his dark happy trail disappeared into his red boxers had you soaked.
You nod stupidly, spit forming at the corners of your mouth. He was doing something to your brain because you couldn’t speak, just stared at the man like he hung the moon.
Zuko chuckled, a hand coming down to rub your cheek. “Good girl. Spread your legs for me, love.”
You do as he says, your head spinning and a lump forming in your throat when he pulls your skirt and panties down at the same time. The way he stared down at you after tossing your clothes aside had you a little self conscious, hands going to cover your body but Zuko was faster than you, grabbing it tightly and tossing it aside with a warning glare.
“You’re perfect, stop fucking hiding frome me.”
You almost cry again but swallow your tears and the lump in your throat, choosing instead to focus on the ache between your legs.
Zuko drops to his stomach and moves until his face is between your legs, grabbing them to place on his shoulders, staring up at you with a lifted brow. “Don’t be shy, wrap your legs around me.”
Holy shit, there was no way he couldn’t see the slick dripping down your legs and onto the sheets because you were drenched. His words send you into a frenzy as you do as he says, legs tightening around his head as he smirks and places kisses onto your thighs.
“I’ll show you exactly why I’m much better than those scumbags you keep wasting your time with. Hold onto me, baby.”
He grips your hips and pulls you further down the bed until your cunt was directly on his face.
Zuko starts by licking a long strip from your creamy hole to your clit, moving the pink muscle in circles around the sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth and sucking hard.
“Oh fuck! Zuko, haah that f-feels so good.” Your stomach tingles and tightens as you reach a hand down into his hair and move your hips against his tongue.
You were growing impossibly wetter, your slick covering Zuko’s face as he went to work, groaning against your pussy as he devoured you as though he hadn't eaten in days, all but inhaling you. The way he was so completely lost to you had your stomach tightening all too soon as you cried out, hands tightening around his hair.
“Don’t stop, m’gonna cum.” You cry, literal tears sliding down your face as you tossed your head to the side, face digging into your pillow. Your chest moving too fast as you tried to catch your breath, trying to stop yourself from cumming too fast.
Zuko didn’t stop, in fact he added two fingers to prep you further, instantly curling them to hit that spot that had your squishy walls tightening around him.
You were blindsided by the sudden added pressure and thirty seconds later, you were crying out as sweat beaded on your forehead, pulsing pleasure ripping through you as your orgasm stole your breath. You had never cum so fast in your life, body shaking as you felt every layer of pleasure, Zuko licking and sucking you through it, hand pushing down on your stomach and you swear you came a second time.
You were in bliss as your legs fell back onto the bed, the dark haired man making his way back up your body. He stared down at you as you attempted to catch your breath, face proudly glistening with your juice as he rubbed at your shaking thigh.
Your eyes were slowly shutting, brain rattling from the intense orgasm your best friend had just given you. You should have told him sooner, shouldn't have wasted time secretly obsessing over him when you could have been getting your pussy eaten like that.
“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already.” His voice was teasing and you opened your eyes to frown at him despite how heavy they felt, still finding it hard to believe that he was above you like this.
He was so beautiful, reaching to pull down his sweats and boxers, just enough to free himself and holy fuck, your best friend was packing. Drool started to seep from the corners of your mouth at the sight of his hard cock teasing you, the tip red and already leaking pre cum.
When you went to sit up in hopes of tasting him, he pushed you back down and when you went to sit up again, he kept his hand at your shoulder to hold you down while he grabbed his cock with his other hand and started dragging his hand up and down, grip tight as he pleasured himself, thumb rubbing at the tip and using his pre as lube.
“Not this time, love. Do you have condoms?”
Your heart dropped. This was really, truly happening. “Y-yes, but you don’t have to wear one. I’m- ahem, I’m clean and I’m on birth control.”
He bites back a smile, chest shaking as he silently laughs. You want to die from embarrassment.
“Do you want me to wear one, baby?”
You didn't, which was unlike you since you never let a guy sleep with you without one, but this was Zuko and you wanted to feel every inch of him, had waited years too. Something primal settling in your chest at the though of him fucking you raw.
So you’re shaking your head no and gasping when he rubs the tip against your wet folds. “Thank god. Need to feel how wet you are.”
You’re nodding like a fool, swallowing hard when he leans down and over you to catch your lips again. It’s soft this time, his lips lightly brushing against yours as he lines himself up with your entrance.
He slowly starts to push in, giving you a second to breathe with every push you take until all eight inches of his cock is deep inside you, Zuko moving his hips in circles to get deep until he completely bottoms out.
His lips are over yours as you breath in each other's air, your eyes squeezing from the sting of the stretch. Zuko was not only long but he was thick and it was taking a minute for you to adjust to his size.
He was patient, littering your faces in sweet, gentle kisses until you bucked against him for more and he was sitting up to grab yours legs, looking down and groaning at the sight of his cock snug in your pussy, walls stretched around him. He pressed your legs to your chest and leaned over you again, slowly moving his hips and fighting the urge to start pounding into you.
You were gripping him so tight, the first raw pussy Zuko had ever been in and he thought his stomach might explode with the way it was twisting. You looked so beautiful underneath him, taking his cock so well like you were always meant to.
“Please move.” You whine, hair fanned out across the sheets you were gripping.
Zuko didn’t waste any more time, already having done that since he first fell for you all those years ago. He was leaning forward again, hands connecting with yours as he placed them above your head. The first thrust he gives is gentle, just enough to prepare you as he holds your stare and slams into you the second time, the bed knocking against the wall as you cry out and close your eyes.
Zuko would have told you to open your eyes any other time but the way your pussy was gripping felt so good that he was closing his own, mind still trying to process that he was really fucking you right now.
All those nights he spent jacking off to the thought you were nothing compared to this, to the way you fit so perfectly around him, your pussy creaming and juices sticking to his abdomen as he started to pick up his pace.
He didn’t want to rush this, but the way you were squirming beneath him, legs pressed to your chest as he pushed deep, had him pounding ruthlessly into you. His anger grew hot at the thought of you wasting your time with those losers, at them having you in this way.
He would show you that he was always the better option and then he’d have you ride him to show him how much better you were than those girls he was never really into.
He leans further down to capture your lips again, cock dragging between your swollen folds as he takes you deep and hard. You were mumbling incoherently, ecstasy taking root in your body as Zuko gripped your throat and moved his hips in circular motions to rub against your clit.
You were on cloud nine as you traded spit, the kiss all teeth and tongue. Your hips started to lift to meet his thrusts and the choked groan Zuko gave, boosted your confidence as you fucked each other.
“So fucking tight, love. Best pussy I ever h-had.”
You’re lost in each other, the only sounds in the room are your heavy breathing and the sound of the bed creaking and banging against the wall. He takes you like that for a bit, your legs pressed against your chest as he basically folds you in half until he lowers them so he can feel your chest pressed against his.
He grabs your chin and tilts your head up so he can kiss your lips again, only pulling back to stare at you.
“Hi, sweetheart.” He huffs out, a groan escaping when you tighten around him at the sound of the endearing pet name.
“Hi.” You whisper back, eyes hooded and your hands in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp.
“I love you. I always- ngggh, I always have.” Zuko confesses, grinding deep and your bottom lip trembles.
“I love you too, more than you know.”
And his eyes start to burn so he’s picking up his pace again, your jelly-like legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him closer to keep him inside of you. He’s so deep that you feel his tip kissing your cervix, your pussy gripping him tight, sucking up his cock and refusing to let go. He would stay there forever if it was up to you.
“Not gonna last long, baby. Shit, you feel too g-good.” He kisses you to cover up the embarrassing moan that almost slipped out, eyes rolling back as the coil in his stomach tightened and threatened to snap. He could feel his balls growing heavy with cum, the human instinct to breed you filling his head.
How beautiful would you look dripping with his seed? The thought had him spiraling, thrust growing erratic.
Your nails are digging into his back, the burn doing nothing but adding to the pleasure he felt. You had no idea that one his kinks was pain, and the way your fingers left marks on his back had him spilling into you with a deep and long groan before he could stop himself.
“Fuuuckkk, I’m cumming baby. Shit, I’m filling you so fucking much.” He cried out, hips snapping sloppily into yours, his crude words sending you over the edge.
You cum hard at the feeling of his hot seed dripping down your ass and onto the bed, Zuko never stopping because this was the longest orgasm of his life. His balls pulsed as he shot rope after rope of hot cum into you, sitting up quickly and pulling out when he remembered he wasn't wearing a condom.
He threw his head back and sang songs of pure lust, gripping his cock and jerking himself as cum spilled from the tip and onto your stomach. It wasn’t a lot as most of it was inside of you, but the sight still left him breathless and hard.
He collapsed on top of you when he was spent, his sticky cum basically gluing you two together. Neither of you say a word as you catch your breath, the smell of sex filling the moonlit room, the reality of what just happened hitting you.
You’re frozen under him, heart skipping beats while your mind raced. Was this a spur of the moment kind of thing? He was just comforting you after a date gone wrong, he couldn’t have meant what he said.. Right?
“Zuko-”
“I love you and I meant it.” He answered every insecure question racing through your head with seven words, knowing you all too well. It made your chest swell with love, the way he always knew what you were going to say before actually saying it as if your souls were connected.
He was your person and you were his.
He lifts up to look at you again, a devious smile spreading across his face as he reaches a hand down and uses two fingers to rub at your swollen clit, slowly moving to your hole and pushing his cum back inside.
“Make no mistake (name), you’re mine and I’m gonna fuck you until every ounce of doubt leaves that pretty little head of yours. Got it?”
The next morning you’re standing in the bathroom, body sore and brushing your teeth when Zuko comes in behind, still half asleep and wearing nothing but his boxers, his hair wild on his head. He stood behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, dropping his head to kiss your shoulder where your shirt hung loose.
“Morning.” Neither of you say another word as he grabs his spare toothbrush he kept at your place, added toothpaste and started brushing his teeth.
He used his other hand to sneak under your shirt and hold onto your boob, squeezing it tiredly as he stared at you in the mirror with half closed eyes and pulled you closer.
You never wanted him to stop cuddling you.
❦ lisa's note: i'd do crazy things to modern zuko, like I need him real bad.
꒰ as requested by the lovely @kiyara-blues5999 ꒱
art by internet famous, divider by @cursed-carmine ♡
zuko didn't really know he had a size kink until he became yours.
he also didn't think he'd have a borderline obsession with how his hands fit around your body when he holds you. how he engulfs your entire frame with his broader one during hugs, how your hand just fits perfectly into the palm of his, and if he covers yours, your little fingers are hardly visible anymore...
and so when he's holding you down underneath him while you're in his bed, his perverse fascination with your size compared to his just dominates his thoughts.
one hand is gripping your waist while the other pushes down between your shoulder blades to keep you arched perfectly for him while he tries to fit his cock inside you. it's a little difficult, because your pussy's proportionate with your size, and the same goes for him. he's just huge in every sense of the word. zuko slides his cock between your folds a few times, coating it in your slick and getting it nice and wet before eventually easing himself in.
you tense up as his cock fits within your plush walls, your pussy throbbing and spasming around his length when he slowly bottoms out. your pussy's swallowing him whole at this point, and he exhales a heaving sigh, throwing his head back to groan at the heavenly feeling of you wrapped up wround him.
it's just so big. it feels like the first thrust just has your mind spinning already because he's fully inside you, his hands hot and demanding on your body as he keeps you in place, unable to wiggle away to relieve yourself from the stretch and sheer fullness of him stuffing your pussy to the brink.
you only stop spacing when he starts to move, having determined that you're ready to take him and that your pussy's been so accomodating to his big dick inside you. now you're ready to take all his love.
he guides your body back onto his dick while moving inside you, hips rutting back then pushing forward rythmically so that he can stay deep inside you while offering you some relief of said fullness. his cock rubs perfectly against your puffy walls, and his pelvis is grinding right up against your folds... you just can't help the little pitchy moans that leave your parted lips when he thrusts into you.
"yeah, 's good," he pants, also lost in his own head. "just like that, my love. you're taking all of me so well."
your broken up panting and whining grows more incessant when he shifts you upwards, lifting you into a kneeling position and gently wrapping his huge arm around your throat to keep you steady while he fucks upwards into you, his cock reaching deeper now and poking out in your belly obscenely. you can feel every little movement inside you, the head of his cock nudging again and again inside you in a way that would usually have you whimpering and squirming, but when he reaches down and pushes his palm flat against that bulge, all you can do is moan and leak more sleak onto him. around his chubbed dick.
"its so big zu," you babble, tears of pleasure and overwhelm clouding your vision and make your moans sound more watery and needy since you can just feel you're getting close. he relishes in the way your voice sounds when you're whining his nickname like that, and he moves his free hand to place your hand on your belly, entwining his fingers with yours so both of you can feel his cock indenting your stomach, the same you would if it was a baby in you, not just his cock.
the thought had his mind swimming, and he picks up his pace, feeling your slippery pussy splatter juices on his thighs and balls each time he pushes his hips forward.
zuko can feel his balls tightening and throbbing as his release starts ti bubble up to the surface, and he squeezes you tighter, now moaning, not just grunting, your name, how good you feel, how he could live in this pussy. your pussy. his pussy to breed and fuck. he slips his hand out of yours just so he can play with your clit, squeezing it gently and rolling the nub between the pads of his fingers. that, his cock hitting your weak spot again and again, and the filth that spills past his lips and straight into your ear has you crying out for him as you start to cream around his cock, tightening around him and squirting pearlescent, watery liquid all over the bed.
he made you squirt.
"atta girl," he breathes, chasing his own release while helping you ride out your own. "oh fuck, love, you soaked me. made a mess everywhere and squeezed me like that... i'm gonna fill you up with my cum and make you a momma, you want that?"
he can't shut up, and he keeps rubbing your poor swollen clit as your pussy stays clamped around him, his cock dragging slow and sloppy against the the pudgy walls of your cunt that makes your pussy spasm around him, massaging his cock and milking the cum right out of him.
zuko pushes his cock into you a few more times, deep inside you, then pushes his body snug against yours, falling against your back and snuggling you tight as he spills his hot cum inside you, sticking to your walls thickly and pouring into you in masses. with his fat cock plugging you full, there's nowhere for it to leak out. he mouths at the nape of your neck and shudders as the last of his load spills straight into your womb.
you feel zuko cuddle you tightly for a minute before he lets his cock slip out of you, cum leaking down your thighs. he tuts at how you're so sleepy already, and carries you into his bath chambers so he can clean you up after fucking you so good.
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