Jiunxo!

they spot you lingering. locked eyes with your cold glare. reached shaky fingers out in a gesture that you could only decipher as a cry for help.

and only then did you see the deep, dark liquid dripping down their throat. exactly where satoru buried his face into.

the street lamps glinted at just the right angle. showed just enough.

your eyes widened when you realised exactly what it was.

when you saw his fangs. heard him gulping.

without a doubt, that was blood.

satoru's jaw was latched onto their throat. his nails digging into their wrists. his adam's apple bobbing as he. . .

drank.

your mind scrambled. nerves tense. muscles frozen.

you should have ran.

you should have ran, should have screamed, should have jumped out of your very skin because what you were staring at was something that wasn't human.

instead?

you. . . pressed your thighs together.

and vanished from the scene as quick as you could. not from fear, but because of the throbbing dampness in your panties.

you weren't stupid. you knew exactly what that was. what he was.

and it. . . aroused you.

˖ ࣪꒰ VAMPIRE NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't bat an eye when your attitude problem seemed to grow by the day. he knew you by now. knew what you wanted. you pissed him off to get a reaction out of him. so that he could push you down into a desk in some abandoned classroom and fuck you until your knees jittered and your pretty panties were stained in his cum.

what he didn't realise was that you had another incentive now.

a new obsession.

after that night outside the dorm buildings, you dived head first into research. the biology of it all— vampirism.

folklore, documentaries, myths, whatever you could get your hands on. call it a hypothesis.

and what's the first thing about any hypothesis? field research. so of course you dedicated more hours to your watchful activities over your nerdy classmate.

you saw it again. saw him drain someone dry. saw him clean his fangs in the morning. saw him drink from birds in the night. your theory was correct.

and it fucking turned you on.

made you wanna be in their shoes. the bird in his clawed grasp. the bloodbag clutched in his palms. the victim under his fangs as he drained you dry of everything you had to offer.

for someone who just found out that their hatefuck buddy wasn't human, you sure had your priorities straight.

˖ ࣪꒰ VAMPIRE NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't quite sure what was going on. lately, he hasn't had to go rob a hospital, catch a bird, or pick out a new classmate to sink his fangs into.

they were delivered right to his door.

dead birds outside his dorm complex. in the gardens. convenient. with finals approaching, he never really questioned it. too buzzed on caffeine and too tired from hours hunched over a textbook to really care.

what did have him questioning, though?

the bodies.

dumped outside where the birds were. on the verge of death. puncture wounds in their throat and bleeding out.

he never could control himself.

feed first, ask questions later.

he'd drag them into his dorm. lay them out on his bed and feast to his heart's content. until his legs were shaking and he was gasping.

only then would he look at the puncture wounds. another vampire in town?

maybe trying to make an ally? he'd have to find them and personally thank them for giving him a little boost for dreadful finals.

little did he know that the "puncture wounds" were inflicted by your favourite pencil.

˖ ࣪꒰ VAMPIRE NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't question the rise in your sexual encounters. how your attitude seemed solely directed on him. how you bitched more, sneered harder, seemingly did everything in your power to drive him up the wall until he snapped and dragged you off to either finger you in an empty hallway or fuck you in the bathroom stall.

didn't question the way you'd grip his hair and bury his face into your neck. how you'd slip into his lap and smother him in yourself. how you wanted to be as close to him as possible.

he thought you needy.

what you really were was desperate.

desperate for him to lose that pesky restraint you noticed he had around you. desperate to snap his control so that he buried his fangs into whatever part of you he desired and drained you dry.

you wanted it. your blood on his fangs. your hands in his hair while he did it. your cunt clenching around his cock too.

let him shatter you, take you, ruin you— death by his hands started to sound like the sweetest fantasy.

it's what got you squirting around him every time he buried himself balls-deep. what had you sensitive to the smallest touches. with his face buried between your thighs and his glasses fogged.

you'd squeeze around his head. hope you'd allure him enough to lose his mind and bite on your thigh. gorge on your blood like he did your pussy.

if only.

if only.

˖ ࣪꒰ VAMPIRE NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ swore he tasted blood on your lipstick.

you were starting to get desperate. starting to grow tired of squeezing, and squirting, and sobbing for him— hoping he'd finally lose it. hoping he'd take you in another way that wasn't just fucking you stupid into his mattress.

so that's when you did it. you were already killing off students and dragging their bodies to that same damned garden— would this really make you any more of a sinner?

it was just a few droplets. three to be exact. not enough for you to notice. but enough that he would.

you kissed him at every opportunity you had. pushing him into the lockers in the middle of the hallway. crashing your lips into his and loving the way his whole body ticked up. how he froze.

god, a sick part of you wanted him to drain you in front of everyone.

you kissed him in the library, in the study room, the cafeteria, wherever you could get your hands on him just so you could feel his shake on your waist.

bingo.

you might just be getting this nerd obsessed with you after all.

˖ ࣪꒰ VAMPIRE NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't like that thought. the idea of needing you more than for just some desperate fuck to keep his mind off of his bloodlust.

now? he was really starting to imagine you in his bed whenever he pushes another body into his sheets and stained them scarlet.

maybe that's why he didn't stop your bolder touches. how you seemed to stop caring about being seen with him in public. how you wanted him at every hour of the day.

maybe, just maybe.

whatever he was feeling was threading a line on something dangerous.

it's why he didn't stop you when you got touchy with him. one late friday night in the lab. jerking him off under the table when you both should be dedicating the time to your looming research deadline.

instead: his head was tossed back. blunt nails digging into the smooth lab table as his glasses fogged and condensed with his heavy pants.

"fuck— fuck. 'm gonna cum if you don't stop—" he huffed, free hand gripping around your wrist as you squeezed him at the base.

your eyes were dilated. dare he say feral. he's been seeing that look from you more and more lately.

it throbbed that prominent underside vein of his.

"yeah, toru?" you cooed, sweet. sweeter than you had been to him all semester.

he wasn't sure why you were taking such a deep interest in him. maybe it was the way he filled you up. the way he fucked you. how desperate he sounded as he fucked his hips up into your hand in a lab where the professor could very well trot back into.

your wrist rotated. something sharp glinted in his peripheral. with his eyes fluttering and his breath heavy, he hadn't had the chance to catch sight of what was happening between his legs before—

he smelt it.

cutting, metallic, oh so fucking sweet.

his stare shot open. wide. pupils and irises shrinking as his eyes snapped down to your hand.

you were bleeding.

worse, you were smiling.

before he could shove you off and scamper away— you squeezed around his tip. harsh. with your fucking.

bleeding hand.

"wait—" he rasped.

your pace turned filthy. squeezing his cock and fucking him with your fist, using your blood as the lube.

your sweet, sinful, sanity-shattering blood.

the gums around his fangs swelled. his nostrils flared. eyes wide and flickering at the ceiling— and yet all he could do was needily buck into your pumping hand and whine from the back of his throat.

"shit— shit, fuck. I'm gonna cum. gotta stop, I'm. . . I'm gonna—"

"c'mon toru."

your thumb shoved to his tip. smearing blood with cum as you rubbed at the slit of his cock. squeezed with your other hand at his throbbing balls until his eyes rolled up.

until his fangs were on full display and he almost.

almost.

lost himself and shoved you to the table. buried his fangs into whatever part of you he found first and drained you dry while your hand went limp around his dick.

"oh my god," he croaked, whispy bangs sticking to his forehead and glasses strewn over the bridge of his nose as pleasure and bloodlust crashed on him in a dizzying, devastating splurge of sin.

and you?

still so sweet. still so fucking insane.

jerking him off with your own blood. even as his hips bucked and he snatched you by the wrist. held you tight. as his cock tensed, and trembled— and finally tipped over the edge.

thick, creamy ropes mixed with the smears of red. pouring down his dick and staining your hand that squeezed him still.

until all that came from his mouth was desperate little whimper.

till all he could think about was—

scarlet consumed blue. swallowing his irises into something carnal. violent.

his hand shot to your wrist. cramped it. with his sheer strength he shot to his feet and shoved you into the desk. dug his thumb into your wound and sneered above you as the scent of your blood finally pushed him over the edge—

satoru's not sure what made him snap out of it.

he was certain that he'd buried his face into whatever vein or artery he could and drank until you were nothing more but a memory on his tongue.

he didn't know when he pulled away.

when he scampered off.

all he knew was that his back was slamming into the locked door of his dark dorm once he was inside. that his pants were still unbuttoned and that he'd haphazardly shoved his cock back into them when he pried himself away from you.

his breathing heavy. ragged.

hand on his heart.

eyes fixed to the ceiling.

cock still stained in your sweet. . . sinful. blood.

a trembling hand raked down his face as he caught his breath.

did you see his eyes? see his fangs? did you understand that he was about to bring you to death rather than an orgasm?

his exhaustion and shock told him you didn't know. that you didn't know a damn thing. that you were just a crazy bitch who was into some freaky blood play.

and that he just overreacted.

yeah. overreacted. he needed a shower. needed to think of anything else but you.

you.

obsessed, crazy, fanatic little you.

still in that lab with his cum mixed with your blood in your hand.

staring at your palm as you breathed, heavy. heated. your free hand slipped under your skirt. between your thighs.

with your mind on him. him. that loser of a nerd. that demon of the night.

your dreadful, dangerous obsession.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cursed-carmine. art cred: @/yinartss

꒰ NERDJO ꒱ who is super protective of you due to the above point. he hates whenever someone tosses a comment. calls you 'just a pretty face'. if he's around he's always the first to tear them a new one. "so let me guess, you're in finance cause you're the family disappointment?" to which you gasp and spin around with a small swat to his shoulder. he only slumps over you, arms squeezing you into him from behind and glaring the person down over his glasses. no one talks to his girlfriend like that.

꒰ NERDJO ꒱ who is still learning a lot about his body and sex together with you. despite being labelled as 'prep and popular' you've actually only ever been with him. it's clumsy and experimental whenever you put your hands on each other— but you're both learning. which means you're both so sensitive and so sooo desperate.

꒰ NERDJO ꒱ who loves when you decide to actually be a pretty distraction and straddle his lap while he's studying for too long. his fingers are still shaky on your thighs even after so long. his breathing still stuttered as you mouth kisses on his neck and whine his name all dreamily. fuck, how did he ever get so lucky?

꒰ NERDJO ꒱ who despite his feeble protests of, "baby I'm studying—" doesn't stop your warm panties from humping on his growing bulge. you both whimper together, steadying yourselves and needily grinding into one another. he buries his face into your neck. loses himself in your strawberry shampoo and vanilla perfume as you slip your hands under his cardigan. he loves when you cum for him like this. wet and needy and panties all sticky.

꒰ NERDJO ꒱ who tosses his head back and whines when you slip around him. panties pulled to the sides and your hands shaky on his shoulder. he gasps your name and you whimper his as you clumsily hump and bounce on his twitching dick. something messy and haphazard but feels oh so good.

"baby," he pants into your throat with open mouthed kisses, his glasses hanging fogged on the bridge of his nose. "just like— just like that. . ."

"am I doing good, toru?" you whimper.

"so good, s'good. fuck, so tight and warm and so so good," he whines.

꒰ NERDJO ꒱ who watches multiple videos and does tons of research, even consults his best friend suguru ( who teased the hell out of him, that bastard ) on how to give you proper head. he loves being stuck between your thighs after a rough day, suckling on your clit and thrusting his tongue. but the first few times he did you explained after that your clit is always so sore cause he gets fixated on it. he flushed and promised to do better. so every session is a learning opportunity. learning your tells, how you like it, where you like it— and the first time he got you to squirt?

"baby, baby oh god, toru— oh torutorutoru—" you rush, hand gripping his hair as you steer messily into his face.

he's dazed. heart eyed and panting all ragged into your pussy as he uses the 'tongue and finger combo' he's read so much about. curling just right, humming and suckling on your clit.

"sweetheart, sweetheart, sweet girl— sweetheart." he's repeating back to you, all gasping and thinned.

then it happened. white and hot as you splattered his glasses and face with a warm spray. back arching and your cute moans thrumming through his dorm.

he was in shock. then gleeful pride as he lapped you up excitedly and pulled you away with a wide, wet grin.

"did you see that? did you see that baby?"

his glasses are all crooked, messy like his face, but he's smiling like a kid in a candy story. you giggle uncontrollably despite your breathlessness.

"you're laughing?" he puzzles, squeezing on your hips and leaning over as you smother him in kisses.

"I just made your perfect pussy squirt and you're laughing? hey! baby c'mooonnn."

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cursed-carmine. art cred: _teaforgods

You're not quite sure if it was the sight of his boner that got you into this position or the fact that you had anger you wanted to take out on him but, either way, you're promptly bouncing up and down the expanse of his cock now.

His voice was a lot more ragged as he spoke to you, the sound of it bubbling out of his throat as pathetic tears coated his blue gaze, "C-C'mon, you know I didn't mean it, baby."

"Do I know that?" You asked coldly, your finger tightly clasped to his jaw, keeping his head up and his eyes on your as you ride him.

"Uhuh, you do-, fuck... y'know you do," He mumbled, head nodding with a submissive quickness, and his bottom lip beginning to quiver.

Your hips rocked forward and he felt that mind numbing sensation of your pussy squeezing around his thick shaft, demanding he empty himself into you at any given moment. He may have been rude earlier but surely your cunt was being far ruder now.

"P-Please, I'll be good now," Gojo panted. Then his eyes sealed shut when your hand slipped down from his jaw and to his throat, the squeeze against his airway making his cock pulsate violently inside you—weeping for release.

You've been denying him of an orgasm for the past fifteen minutes now and he feels like he's on the verge of passing out, having never allowed anyone to edge him for this long.

A fucked-out giggle springs out of your throat as you sunk all the way down to his straining base, the puffy lips of your cunt left to bulge around him all cutely, "You're sayin' everything except what I wanna hear, 'Toru. Is it really this hard to say one little word?"

”No, but—hahh.. d’you really need to hear me apologize?” He asked as those pretty white lashes began to bat up at you with silent pleads. His hips impatiently buck upwards when you take an unnecessary amount of time to let his words sink in.

To which your grip around his neck gets stronger and your body leans forward a bit more, your chest mashed into his, “If you wanna cum then yeah.”

Gojo smiles all of a sudden before grunting out a half-assed, “M’sorry,” as if you were some kind of fool.

You saw straight through his little attempt and purposefully lifted your hips a bit before slamming them back down. “For what, Satoru?” You huff, feeling his breath hitch and tangle up against your palm.

“Ngh-,” Gojo moans, dick twitching within the saccharine warmth of your walls. “I’m sorry for bein’ so rude t’you..” He says as clearly as he can. It was quite difficult for him to avoid the slur in his words when your pussy had him overly drunk.

You repeat the same move from before and he tries to toss his head back, only to get tugged forward by the hand on his throat. Which makes him whine, “Ohfuck, yes, please don’t stop, please.”

“That’s it? You’re only sorry for being rude?” Your question comes out with so much tension behind it that he wonders if he’s truly yet to make up for his statement.

Though, you believe it to be deserved since he claimed you were bitching to him—all you did was express your feelings. And you’d like to think that if he meant it, he’d be too busy fucking it up into you to say it like that.

“I—,” He’s swiftly cut off by your fingers sliding into his mouth.

“M’not sure if I believe you, ‘Toru,” You teased with this look in your eyes that suddenly made him feel small for the first time in his life. You didn’t know it but he probably would’ve cum right then and there if you’d call him anything close to degrading. “If you’re really sorry, you’ll let me feel it, won’t you?”

Gojo nods dumbly again before mumbling a drooly, “Mhmmm,” around your fingers as he sucks on them obediently.

“Shit, you’re actually kinda cute like this,” The praise hits him at the same time his tip slathers against your sweet spot, causing both of you to moan out in unison.

His tongue lathers in between your digits and he keeps his eyes all doe-like ‘n pretty as he peers up at you. You could feel his whines around your fingers and each one made your chest tighten with a sense of pride.

You liked this side of him far more than you’d ever admitted.

When your fingers eventually fall from of his mouth, that’s when his own curl into the sheets below him.

“Can I,” He groans loudly in between his words, “Can I at least touch you now?” Another whine exits him when you nod in response, his hands flying to your hips to hold you as he lifts your body up a bit. Then he’s angling closer and his voice is pitching lower, “Can I cum now too?”

“Say please.” You command calmly.

Right then, Gojo starts fucking his needy cock up into your sopping hole, letting the squelches echo around his room and serve as a prelude to his incoming series of pleas. Next thing you know, he’s using his grip on your hips to help you ride him harder-, faster.

His voice cracks as he whimpers, “Please? Please let me cum. I-I won’t say anything like that ever again-, fuck.. I promise, I pinky promise. Please, I’ll be s’good for you. Please mo-,” He chokes then, as if to catch himself at the end.

You bite your lip and whisper, “Uh-uh, say it.”

Gojo can’t help but moan, his brows furrowing with frustration as your words make his head spin. You’re being pushed over onto your back faster than you have time to adjust and he’s pumping his cock into you at a different angle.

When your face begins to twist up into that expression he likes—the one that lets him know he’s hittin’ that sappy spot of yours just right, his own falters into something desperate.

Leaving him to huff a breathless, “Please mommy?”

“Good boy,” Your chime leaves you almost immediately and there’s a proud smile pulling itself across your lips. His cockhead nearly spurts at the sound but he waits oh-so-patiently for you to follow that up with a soft-spoken, “You can cum now.”

Then he’s cumming in thick, hot, ‘n creamy gushes, letting his eyes roll back til’ only the whites are showing as he releases the most pathetic moan you’ve ever heard.

Every drop of his load is thrusted into you with hushed out, ‘m’sorry’s tumbling out of his throat.

…And you may have imagined it but you swear he let a soft I love you slip as well.

perm gojo tags:

@imyourightnow @cupidstrace @billiondollarworth @navyllll @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa444 @sugo-jo @etsuniiru @not-a-glad-gladiator @2kool4skoolll @yulissacastillo11

@daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @oookore @blubearxy @wonderfullymickey @iaintblockinnobody @anothergojostan @kitassecretgf @nanasukii28 @iam-souless

@nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @kunababy @withersworld @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke @kvsqkiii @forest-nymph666 @yourlocalcatscammer @viiennie

@1stmagnoila @moonmilk102 @v33326 @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt @bloxdhawks @riameriash

@arminseas2 @palanggaaa @makingtimemine @theodoresvalentine @salmon-ella @miss-f0rtun3 @jinjen @blcknebula @babblybebe

//

the dm shocked you, because how could it not after going so long only knowing about atsumu through the news and social media? his girlfriend was the entire reason two of you stopped talking when you did, but it wasn't even her doing. atsumu chose to break off contact all on his own, some bullshit about trust and her being really good for him.

and they were still together, you saw their anniversary post less than a week ago. and yet there he was.

and yet there he was texting back and forth with you for the better half of an hour before making the short drive over to your place.

and yet here he is, one hand ghosting over your lower back, other hand bracing the under side of your thigh, hot breath on your collar bones despite the fact that he had a girlfriend and despite the fact that you shattered his heart into a million pieces

//

he’s made small talk, asked you how you’ve been with an unease that he didn’t try hard enough to hide, leaned against the couch, but hasn’t actually sat.

“hey, calm down or i really will call your brother, always the calmer one.”

“and, yet, ya didn’t date him,” he quips back. the air is still for a moment, settling alongside the realization. you’d acknowledged it through text, but this was different. it slipped out easily, an impulsive rebuttal to a joke made numerous times before, a passing recollection and acknowledgment of the very reason he shouldn’t be here in the first place.

“well, no, obviously not, i’ve got a thing for blondes,” you shrug and he laughs, short and breathy. it feels almost humoring, but then you watch his shoulders slump, laxing into a normal state for the first time since he’s been here.

“a thing for blondes who actually sit down on the couch instead of leaning against them,” you gesture towards the middle of the sofa.

“what about you?” he asks, abiding anyways and taking a seat perfectly where your eyes landed, not enough room on either side of him for you to fit.

“where do you expect me to sit?” you ask right back, raising your eyebrows, stepping towards him anyway despite your teasing adversity.

he only glances down at his lap, lifting his hands from their clasped position, and motioning towards himself. you crawl into his lap, one knee dipping into the cushion on either side of him.

“what, did you miss me that much?” you tease, placing your hands overtop of his, pulling them lazily along until they're resting on your ass, fingertips tucked politely under the hem of your underwear. there's hesitance in his movements even with your guiding help.

"you don't have to be gentle with me, y'know." you tilt your head to the side, pushing backwards until you can feel resistance, until you can feel his fingers spread apart, taking as much of you into his hands as he can and digging his dull fingernails into your flesh. "i know you've probably gone soft a bit, huh? with your girlfriend and all"

his entire body tenses, some sort of backlash bubbling up in the discomfort, and you know that backlash is probably in the form of a shitty comment at your expense.

so you don't let it leave his throat, closing the gap and slipping your tongue into his mouth, sliding it against his before he can make an excuse or put you down. you did it to catch him off guard, but he tastes so good, so familiar even though so much time has passed that you can't help but moan into the kiss.

and fuck is his hair softer than you remember. his hands are bigger than you remember and his stomach is more rigid than you remember and he's stronger than you remember, and you pull away from the kiss now because you're out of breath and it's probably been enough time for him to swallow whatever shitty thing he was going to say and he's so much fucking prettier than you remember.

when did he get this pretty?

the softness of your eyes is mirrored in his, a reflection of rediscovery, relearning things that you don't remember forgetting. and there's this feeling that's burning in your core, a mixture of emotions, one of them you can't put your finger on, but you know you want to ignore.

"can you please take your shirt off, i haven't fucked anyone as ripped as you in a while and i kinda miss it." fingers running along the hem, you tug upwards gently.

"is that the only reason i'm here?" he jeers, but leans forward anyway.

"you know why you're here." before you've thrown his shirt into a crumpled pile on the floor, he's already wrapped both of his arms around your waist, picking you up only momentarily before sitting you down on the edge of the couch.

"i do," he says, and if you weren't you, if you hadn't known atsumu for as long as you have, you wouldn't have been able to recognize him after that drastic change in tone with that sultry look in his eyes as he drops to the floor, nudging your legs apart and smirking up at you. "i know exactly why i'm here, which is why it's kinda weird that you've had such a bitter, snarky mouth all night."

if that damned smirk and stupid tone didn't warm you right up, this would've done just fine on it's own. instead, it just added to the involuntary reactions you were feeling all over your body, cheeks burning, fingers restless against the muscle of your thigh, peering down at atsumu as he toyed with your panties, softly, abruptly, there and then not as his grasp moves to the hem of your shirt, pushing the fabric up as far as he can reach, running his palm over freshly exposed skin.

you finish the motion, brushing your fingers over his as you throw your shirt onto the cushion next to you.

"why don't ya ask nicely if i'll eat ya, princess?"

he kisses the insides of your thighs and you wonder if he remembered how sensitive they are or if it's just a coincidence.

but it doesn't matter how badly you want it, how many nights you've spent lying awake thinking about his stupid fucking tongue, wishing that there was some sort of toy that could replicate how disgustingly good it felt, because the question enters your mind and you want so badly to knock that smirk off his face.

"do you call her princess too or is that reserved just for me?"

and it does, knock the smirk off his face that is, but only for a moment. he tsks, shaking his head as he pushes himself up from the ground. regret is already seeping in as you squeeze your thighs together. your pussy is already soaked and you were about to get everything you've been missing for the past 3 years.

now, instead, atsumu is towering over you palming himself through his shorts and talking down to you in a way that makes you even wetter, "we gotta do something about that ungrateful little mouth of yers, don't we?"

"if you're not going to eat me out, won't you at least answer my question?" you ask, digging yourself deeper into this disobedient hole you're finding yourself in.

he reaches out so quickly that you almost flinch, but you trust him too much for that. he laces his fingers into your hair forming a tight fist at the base of your head, directing your eyes to him as he steps forward between your legs, spreading them apart with his shins. "the answer would probably just go to your head."

absolutely nothing could stop the smile that spread across your face, corners upturning and spanning as far as possible as you greedily think of this pet name saved just for you.

"what else did you save only for me, tsumu?" you ask, scooching forwards, legs spreading wider, pressing against the outsides of his calves. you're far too excited about the effects you've had on him and his relationship. as the sentence leaves your mouth, as the nickname falls so easily off of your tongue, you see his strong exterior falter for a fraction of a second. "she doesn't get to call you tsumu?"

the fist in your hair gets tighter, so tight that you can feel his hand start to shake and there's a darkness in his eyes that wasn't there before, a darkness that tells you he's been timid up until this point, a darkness that you probably shouldn't provoke, but it's been a long time since you've had this much fun.

"been awhile since you've had a brat to tame, hasn't it?" you whisper, blinking away the tears that have collected in the corners of your eyes.

"i think yer beyond being brat at this point," he huffs, no longer waiting for your next move. he uses one hand to push down his shorts, keeping a tight grasp on your head, not letting you move an inch and then guides your head towards his cock. "put yer mouth to good use or i swear to god you won't be able to talk for four days."

it sounds like an option, but it's not. he doesn't give you the chance to misbehave again. he drags the head of his cock on your bottom lip, precome smearing against it before he presses the tip into your mouth.

you're staring up at him because you've missed this so much, the concentration on his face, this control that he has over you, this underlying distain for the way you act out. he's not even looking you in the eyes, staring past you at the way his cock disappears between your lips.

"fuck, take it," he grunts, thrusting in and out of your mouth slowly, spit drooling down your chin as they start getting faster, head prodding at the back of your throat.

your mouth feels so full, head bobbing with his wreckless thrusts until he pulls you completely onto his cock, your lips wrapped around the base, the length of his fat cock perfectly surrounded by your tight throat, and then he holds you there. seconds tick by and your eyes flutter closed and the only sensation you can take in is the light throbbing of his cock.

"isn't this so much better? actually being useful for once," he sneers, but you can barely hear him as you focus on just staying conscious. his fingers skim over your neck, wrapping around the bulge he's created, balls twitching against your chin. you bring your hands up to his thighs, fingers digging into the muscle as you reach your limit, head fogging and throat burning.

he pulls you off of his cock and you only catch a glimpse of how satisfied he looks as you gasp for air, swallowing just to feel your throat void of something. "god yer lucky i wanna be inside of ya so fucking bad now or i would cum down that pretty throat of yers so fast."

you're still regaining your composure as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down your thighs, cock throbbing as he watches the string of wetness connecting your pussy and your panties. he presses harsh, rushed kisses into the side of your jaw, trailing down until he can’t reach any further.

you want to say something, anything to put him back in his place, to make him flustered again, but you just can't think, still drunk on the feeling of choking on his big fucking cock.

the only thing that comes out is, "please, fuck me."

he laughs, honest to god, throws his head back and laughs as he lines himself up with you, rubbing the tip between your pretty slick lips and pressing his hips forward just enough to feel your hole start to stretch for his head. "not so bratty, now, are ya?"

you shake your head because it doesn't matter anymore how much you missed acting out just so he would put you in your place, you were there. you were exactly where he wanted you and fuck, did you want him.

"ask nicely," he taunts, a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he pushes his luck as far as he can take it.

you roll your hips, desperate to feel any part of him. "please, daddy."

"f-fuck," he stammers, grin completely gone, precome leaking from the slit of his twitching cock, harsh resolve crumbling over a single word. "fuck, again." he presses his hips forward, sliding inside of you inch by inch.

and it hits you.

"she doesn't call you daddy, either?" you ask, narrowing your eyes, some sort of clarity replacing these pathetic thoughts.

when you were with him, you used the name religiously, in and out of the bedroom. sometimes to get what you wanted and other times just to watch him tense up. and now his life was void of the weight that name carried and that didn’t sit with you right. poise and bite fill you almost as quickly as it left you, "you saved a lot of things just for me, didn't you?"

he doesn't reply, silent as he places a hand on your shoulder and thrusts completely inside of you, hips pressed against the insides of your thighs as the breath is knocked completely out of your lungs. he's trying to prove that he has control over you still, digging into you so brutally that he knows you'll think of him later. and it feels so fucking good and you feel so fucking full and it would be so easy to just shut your mouth and take it, but it wouldn’t be nearly as fun.

“fuck, there’s no way that you’re this rough with her,” you almost laugh, settling on a telling smirk instead, “mmm but there’s also no way that you get this hard for her.”

each time he fucks into you, the sound and the sting of his hips smacking against the insides of your thighs gets harsher. you know that he’s doing it to shut you up, to make you forget about whatever it is that’s on your mind and focus on how good it feels or how much it hurts, but it’s really just proving your point.

his hands are roaming, moving from place to place, trying to find a permanent spot to root, one that gives him the most control. in the process, he’s leaving marks all over you, red spots, crescent-shaped indents, freshly forming bruises, and the thought of finding them in the coming days is driving you insane.

you can feel the stretch, closing your eyes to savor the feeling, quiet for a moment, the sound of your dripping pussy clenching around him filling the room. you don’t want to admit it, how quickly he’s gotten you so close, but you’re sure he can feel it in the way that you’re gripping onto him even tighter.

you snake your hand down between your legs, rubbing sloppy circles into your clit as he continually pounds into you. you’re so fucking close, can feel that familiar heat rising to your core, your body growing more sensitive.

“makes sense you wanted to come fuck me,” you mumble, “bet you haven’t gotten off really good in a long time, right, daddy?”

he’s unapologetic in the way he lets it affect him this time, grip getting tighter, cock slamming into you, not because he wants to teach you a lesson, but because he can’t help it.

“not without my tight cunt and dirty mouth, huh, daddy?” it’s somehow fucking with him even more as your voice gets scratchier, needier, softer from how close you are. “rub my messy pussy, daddy, gonna cum.”

your arms are weak as you hang them around atsumu’s neck, holding onto him desperately because you know you’re going to need it while you cum. his calloused fingers replace yours, rougher, thicker, harder, faster rubbing over your swollen clit. “cum all over daddy’s cock, princess.”

god, you’re just as fucked as he is hearing that name bounce off the walls and right back to you, that name that’s just for you. you wrap your legs around his lower back, pulling him into you because you need to feel every fucking inch, wanna coat his entire cock with your cum, have to, cumming from how deep he is inside of you, and then from the thought of her unknowingly tasting you on it.

“good girl, fuck, yer tight.”

you stare up at him with half-lidded post-orgasm eyes and an innocently dopey smile on your face, “tighter than her?” you look so fucking cute, sensitive walls hugging his length, so fucking happy and blissed out that the answer slips right out.

“yes, fuck, missed yer cunt so much.”

you move to sit up, push your hand into his shoulder and motion to the couch. when he moves, you move with him, not wanting to feel empty for a second longer than you have to.

seated completely on his cock, he’s even deeper inside of you and you want to feel this full forever. you don’t even want to move, resting your forehead against his. “tell me something, tsumu, and be honest.” he doesn’t offer any sort of reply, verbal or otherwise.

“do you think of me sometimes when you fuck her?” you start moving, sitting up straight as you pull yourself off his cock almost completely before slamming back down. “do you wish she was me? do you almost say my name when she cums because she almost gets as tight as i am?”

“you don’t need to answer, tsumu, can see it all over your face,” you continue, hand placed firmly on his chest for leverage as you fucked yourself harder on his cock.

“yer a fucking bitch. ya haven’t changed at all,” he breathes, and it hurts way less than it probably should, the tone of his voice and the shock on his face, but you can feel him inside of you, you can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath your palm. he’s throbbing with every shitty question, twitching at every mention of how much better you are than her, grunting under his breath whenever you point out one of his slip ups. he fucking loves it and you know him too well not to notice it.

“no, i have, it’s just not exactly what you wanted when you texted me. you wanted a tight brat to bruise and choke, didn’t you?” you ask, tilting your jaw upwards, exposing your neck. “fucking do it then, but don’t whine about the fact that this little brat is better than your girlfriend.”

his hands are still planted loosely on your hips, guiding your motions, helping you set a pace. he’s not reaching for what you’re so graciously offering him.

“don’t fucking kid yourself. you can’t get off to a nice girl who gives you exactly what you want, can you, tsumu?” you glare down at him, no longer on display, leaning towards him so you can talk through gritted teeth. “i’m a fucking bitch because it’s exactly what you want, none of that ‘really good for you’ bullshit.”

he lifts his hips, thrusting up to meet you as you slide down his cock. it’s brutal, the slapping of your tender skin against his toned thighs, and it feels so good, hurts so good that you don’t even remember what you were saying. and he doesn’t slow down. he keeps getting faster, keeps going deeper, and you’re starting to think that he’s realizing how much he likes it, the shitty way that you talk to him, that he actually missed it.

“fuck you.”

“am i wrong, baby? that’s why you’re with me right now and not her.” it leaves your mouth without much thought. you can’t think much about anything with the way he’s fucking you.

“i didn’t come here to talk about my girlfriend all night,” he bites.

“right, but-” you’re stopped in the middle of your sentence, two hands wrapping around your throat, long fingers pressing into your windpipe. his eyes are deadlocked on yours as he squeezes gently, testing the waters.

you rest your hand on his wrist, smiling as best you can, hoping you look pretty enough in his grasp as you push your neck further into his hold and the look on his face is one that you want to capture forever. it proves your point even further, this notion of atsumu and his nice sex life and his girlfriend that’s really good for him, because when’s the last time that atsumu has been with someone who just wanted to be treated like shit?

when’s the last time that atsumu’s been treated like shit?

you roll your eyes back in your head, chin towards the ceiling, lack of oxygen only heightening every inch of your skin that’s in contact with him before bringing your line of sight back down to his peering eyes.

your voice is choked, hoarse, sparse as the words struggle to leave, only strong enough for him to hear if he’s really paying attention. “fuck, atsumu, you’re so fucking big, so fucking perfect, you’re a fucking god, fuck me so good, thank you so much, i wish i never broke up with you.”

he doesn’t say a word, swallows whatever noise or comeback was coming up his throat, and blinks at you. fucked out expression, gasping for the return of the air you just spent, but it’s all worth it. his fists are closing, squeezing to stop you or to dare you to fight back, you’re not completely sure, but the second that your lungs have filled up just enough to mutter three more words, you do.

“is that better?”

you wait, assured and confident that whatever he does next will be some dramatic act to prove something to you and to himself, to make you regret your outlash, to make you actually believe the sarcastic statement you just spewed.

atsumu always did surprise you.

“it is,” he grunts, hands placed back onto to your waist, but they’re delicate now, tender almost as he runs the pads of his fingertips over your hipbones. “tell me how much you missed me, doll.”

there were so many ways you could fuck with him, so many things you could say to keep up this shitty charade, you know there are, you know they exist, but you can’t think of a single one. you open your mouth and nothing comes out save for tiny, quivering breaths and noises that were beyond your control.

“tell me.” harsher than before, but with an underlying care that made your heart flutter.

“sometimes, i do miss you,” you admit, and that’s exactly what it is, an admittance, something that’s circled in your brain but has never left your mouth, not even to the empty walls of your room. an absurd part of you hope he picks up on the lack of past tense.

he’s known you for too long, listened to you too well, gotten too deep despite the fight you put up to not hear how genuine this senseless little sentence is coming out of your mouth. “really late at night, lonely in my bed, wondering why i let you go.”

and, fuck, it’s so stupid, not what you bargained for at all, but you want to feel closer to him, need to feel him completely against you because his skin is warm in a way that you’ve haven’t been able to replicate and maybe this is just a long-winded ploy to make you regret this attitude you’ve adopted for the night, but it’s working and you don’t care.

you’d like to think that he could see it on every feature, in every movement and action, this overwhelming need of yours for him to hold you, to be closer than he is right now even as he’s buried inside of you, because he does. he runs his hands up your back, crosses them over one another and braces you with his arms, mouth against your ear, “tell me more, pretty.”

and you listen. not because he’s fucking you into submission or because he has this caustic influence on you, but because you want to and because he deserves to know these thoughts of remorse and guilt that have been weighing heavy since the minute you left.

“think about you a lot,” you mutter into his chest, “was really shitty to you, couldn’t stop thinking about the version of our break up that you told everyone, and now i see you on my feed and think about if that were me celebrating an anniversary with you at some gross fancy dinner.”

your muscles have relaxed, movements ceased, leaning fully into atsumu as he thrusted up into you leisurely, focusing instead on the snap of his hips and closeness between the two of you. “wanted to reach out to apologize or to fuck you or just to hear your voice, but i didn’t.”

it’s heavy and not necessarily the dirty talk that you thought would be coming out of your mouth tonight, but it’s also not stopping and he’s not telling you to stop. “missed your voice and your face and your hands and your warmth and how good you are to me. and i really fucking needed this, tsumu, fuck i needed you so bad.”

you hope, with everything in you, that he’s understanding everything you’re saying, that he’s perceiving it all as the truth, that he’ll see that you actually have changed, finally ready to tell him all of the things he wanted to hear back then, all the things he tried to get out of you before you broke his heart. but have you really changed? are you saying these things so that he’ll know the truth or so he won’t be able to stop thinking about you while he’s with her?

your chest feels tight, heart racing, air leaving your lungs as shaky as your limbs, in desperate need of some sort of redirection. you’re silent for a few moments, letting the room fill with his shallow breaths and striking skin, composing yourself and fixating on atsumu’s steady pace.

curling your fingers against his stomach, you move in time with him once again, lifting yourself as he pulls away and slamming down as he thrusts upwards. you don’t know if you’ve really changed or what the real motivation behind inviting atsumu over tonight was, but you know exactly what you’ve been craving, not just in these last few hours, but for years.

you brush your cheek against his, leaning forward to whisper directly into his ear so that the feeling of your breath and the soft cadence of your voice never leave his memory.

“does she let you cum inside, tsumu?”

his response is visceral, instinctive, hips stuttering, failing to smoothly meet the backs of your thighs as his head collides with your shoulder, too heavy with swarming thoughts and poor self control to make any audible noise that’s not an almost animalistic grunt.

kiss after soft kiss is pressed into his jawline, down his chest, fingers interlocked behind his neck, pulling yourself closer and closer until you can feel his destructive heartbeat combatting your own.

“does she let you pump her full of cum, daddy?”

he can’t form a verbal response, groaning into your shoulder as he fucks into you with abandon, no longer as a power trip or a control tactic, just using you to get off. you wanted him to use you to get off. he’s so fucking wrecked beneath you, eyes screwed tight as he moves on compulsion alone, but you knew how pretty he sounded when he was about to cum, whiny and grateful and you refused to let this moment slip away.

“i know how much you loved filling me with your load, tsumu, feeling my pussy get all creamy, milking your fat cock into my greedy little hole. you went crazy for it, would always pump your thick seed into me until it spilled out all over your cock, made me feel so full, so pretty,” you ramble into his skin.

“baby, do you still get to feel that? does she let you unload so deep, tsumu?” your questions are coming out more haphazardly than anything else you’ve said and you know the answer, but you’re craving the sound. “or did you save that all for me too?”

“saved it for ya,” he mumbles, throat hoarse, cock pulsing against your walls, needy, sloppy kisses placed wherever he can reach.

“yeah? tell me, baby, saved it all for me, couldn’t cum in a pussy that wasn't made just for you? needed me, right, baby?”

“needed you, fuck, only you, need only you,” he moans and it’s so perfectly desperate and everything you need it to be.

“gonna cum, baby, gonna cum for you, will you cum for me? will you cum inside me, tsumu, please?” you know he can tell how close you are, can feel how tightly you’re squeezing him, how dripping wet you are, can hear your incessant, thoughtless ramblings.

“i’m gonna fill you, pretty, wanna feel you cum on my cock while i fill you, okay?”

you nod against his chest, core tight, waiting, waiting, his hips driving upwards faster, slamming you down harder until his movements stutter, a guttural groan falling upon your ears before feeling his cock pulse inside of you, rope after rope of thick cum painting your insides, and, fuck, you missed this.

you let go, collapsing against atsumu entirely as you cum around his cock, pussy clenching as he lazily thrusts into you, driving you through your orgasm and fucking his cum deeper inside of you, coating his entire length.

when his movements stop, when his hips stop moving and the grunting is replaced with shallow breaths that turn into normal breaths, neither of you move. your chests are rising and falling in time and you’re starting to feel gross the longer you sit in it, but you don’t want to move. you can’t move. the things that you’ve said might feel too real if you move from this position. and that doesn’t make any sense, but you don’t want to chance it. you feel gross, but also better than you have in a while and then he rubs a small circle into your lower back just gently enough for you to notice, just softly enough to send shivers up your spine, and you know that you can’t be in this position another second.

//

being in the same bathroom as atsumu, legs spread, sitting in your bathtub, cleaning up the mess he’s made while he uses crumpled up pieces of toilet paper to clean up the mess you’ve (mostly he’s) made is weirdly domestic in the most comforting way. it’s not awkward, but some part of you wishes it was because the seconds keep ticking on and the regret isn’t seeping in, not just about tonight, but about anything you’ve said.

it’s mostly silent save for atmospheric noises that couldn’t be helped and you wish that you were wishing someone would say something.

but you clean without a word and so does he and when you stand up, he offers you a hand to step over the lip of the tub and he passes you a dry towel from where you keep them under the sink. he uses your toothbrush without even asking and then preps it for you to use and you thank him when he hands it to you.

you walk back with him to your room and he’s one step ahead of you because he could find your bedroom blindfolded and you get changed in front of him and it’s not one of those moments where you get embarrassed and then feel dumb about getting embarrassed, you just feel at home.

“i meant it, by the way, i miss you sometimes,” you shake your head, “no, that’s a lie, i miss you a lot.” you’re starting to feel antsy now, missing the comfortable silence because now you’re talking about uncomfortable feelings while they’re not mindlessly spilling out of you.

your fingers are tingling, heart furiously beating in your ears as you continue, “and nights like tonight make me miss you more than i thought was possible, more than they probably should for how long i’ve been without you, but i think you bring out a really shitty side of me.”

“i think i don’t have to,” he says, rushing to get it out of his throat before he’s too scared to say it, “i think i remind you of how you used to be, but that’s not how you are now.” you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. “i think we could try again and i could show you that it’s not true.”

“you don’t...,” you start, voice diminishing into silence, because what do you say to that?

“because you’re right, why else am i here with you tonight and not her?” he asks, closing the gap between the two of you, not touching you, just getting closer.

“tsumu…,” you start again, voice diminishing into silence again, because what do you say to that?

“i don’t let her call me that because i couldn’t bear the sound of it not coming from you.”

you take a step back, head spinning from a single sentence despite only solidifying a conclusion you had already come to all on your own. “i think maybe you should go home to your girlfriend before she notices you’re missing.”

“let me stay the night,” he blurts, hand spanning out to grasp your shoulder, your arm, wherever his reach would land.

it comes out of your mouth like a warning, imploring him to tread careful, “tsumu.”

but he just keeps pressing forward, faster, harder, recklessly, heedless and senseless, “please, yn, please, if this is the last time i ever get to talk to you, to see you standing in front of me where i can do this,” his hand floats up, fingers caressing your cheek, curling against your jaw and you melt into how inviting and warm his touch is, “then just let me savor it.”

the thought of this being your last night together hits you, hard, like you’ve been run over by a train, and you didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. you’re convinced it feels worse than when you left him the first time. you don’t want it to be the last time.

“last time, huh?” you ask. with how close he is and the hold he has on you, you know that he can feel the instability in your voice, see the hesitance in your features.

“i mean,” he pulls you into him, arms wrapping tightly around you so that you can feel the vibrations of his laugh, “how well did that work last time?”

“if i see you again, i’ll want to see you again, and again, and again,” you admit, soaking in the discomfort of vulnerability before asking, “is that okay?”

♡ akaashi ♡ 1 day // guilty fucking, just can't help himself

“f-fuck, we shouldn’t be doing this,” he tells you, voice not nearly are strong as you’re sure he means it to be. he pushes his hips forward again, sliding his cock slowly inside of you, thumb spreading your lips apart so that he can watch himself disappear inch by inch.

he’s nearly crumbling in front of you, fucking in and out of you, one word punctuating each thrust. “we… shouldn’t…. be… doing…. this….” his voice is just as shaky as his forearms bracing you.

his forehead falls against your shoulder, moaning into your soft skin. he presses kisses wherever he can reach, trailing up your collarbones to the sensitive areas of your neck and the underside of your jaw.

akaashi is really not the type of guy to cheat on his girlfriend, he swears. but he just couldn’t help himself. when the opportunity presented itself, he really had no other option.

not when you looked like that, sitting so pretty on his couch when she wouldn’t be back for the entire weekend. not when you smiled like that when he pushed your hair out of your face. not when he could convince himself that it really meant nothing. it couldn’t have, not when he’s thinking about her so much.

and then he kisses you, warm and breathy and sweet enough to give you a toothache. not a fucked out, gasping for air, desperate to touch you just to touch something, but one that gives you butterflies and makes you feel closer than his skin on yours

lips pressed against yours, meticulously thrusting into you so he can savor every second. he can barely breathe.

when he finally pulls away, looks you in the eyes, gaze confident and unwavering, and you let it slip past your slightly parted lips. “how would your girlfriend feel about it?”

it’s quiet and low, softer than the sounds of his moans or the obscene smack of his hips against the inside of your thighs. you watch the blush spread, up his chest and neck to the highs of his cheekbones, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter for a moment, speaking confidently now, but no less indulgent.

“she wont find out.”

♡ atsumu ♡ 8 months // little bit toxic ngl, blatant disregard for their partner

the first few times that you and atsumu slept together, there was remorse on both ends. over time, though, it just started getting easier to justify and to excuse. the two of you melded perfectly and the more nights you spent together, the better it got.

neither of you have felt bad about it in awhile.

“fuck me any softer and i’ll mistake you for my boyfriend or something,” you huff.

in fact, you both horribly go as far as to teasing each other at your own partner’s unknowing expense. you wrap your arms around atsumu’s neck, pulling him down until you’re able to press your nose into his shoulder, breathing softly against it.

“hey, no talking about your boyfriend. you know i get jealous,” he says, dragging his teeth against your collarbone cautiously so as not to make a mark. he doesn’t bring any attention to how his pace picks up, fucking into you faster as the insides of your thighs start to sting.

"yea?" you say, rolling your hips in time with his thrusts, "and what about your girlfriend?"

the scoff that erupts from his chest nor the thought of his girlfriend disrupt his rhythm. "you're the one that brought her up. what about her?" he asks, placing soft kisses against your chest where he can reach.

you shake your head, arm leaving his neck to cup his face in your hand, pull his eyes to yours, "not good enough."

he knows what you're looking for, can see it in the devilishly sweet smile on your face as your eyes scan his features. he almost wishes that his reason for hesitancy wasn't what it was. the pauses, the insufficient answers, he knows they aren't in the name or regret or guilt, they're just to tease you, to keep you waiting for the answer he knows you want. "she’s not here, we don’t have to worry about her," atsumu teases, leaning forward to kiss your lips this time.

you turn your head at the last second, let his gentle kiss press against your jaw instead as you repeat yourself, "not good enough."

he sighs, faux and dramatic, reaches his fingers over to nudge your face back towards him once more. when he leans down again, his tender grasp on your chin begs you to stay put. you lean up towards him as much as you can to meet his kiss. when he pulls away, his forehead is still pressed against yours, sentence is murmured against your lips, "well, it’s no competition, really, between the two of you."

"yea?" you ask again, core fluttering, tightening as your walls grip him desperately. "only one of us has your heart, right, tsumu?"

"fuck," he says, hips stuttering as he nods, "fuck, that's right, baby."

♡ bokuto ♡ 2 weeks // super desperate, only somewhat guilty

“god, when do i get to see you again?” he asks, all teeth and tongue and desperate, throaty pleas against your chest. his hands are just as frantic as his facial expression, roaming over every part of you without rooting once.

he isn’t even inside of you yet, and he's already looking forward to next time.

it was supposed to just be a one night thing, you and him. and if it was one night out, complete mistake, he could’ve explained it with alcohol or a lapse in judgement. but that was 2 weeks ago.

because no one told him how much he’d be craving you every single fucking night after that. no one told him how much he'd remember your touch and the weight of the backs of your thighs on his hips and how pretty you sounded and how soft your skin was and how fucking tight you were.

no one told him that he'd need to see you 5 times in those two weeks, like you were his new obsession that would quickly turn into a bad habit.

you’ve kept quiet about it, the fact that you knew he had a girlfriend in the first place. you've honestly just been enjoying yourself, skating around the topic or deliberately avoiding it, fearful that if you mention it he’ll run.

you don't really know where it comes from. truthfully, it just slips out because it's on your mind, because he asks you as if it's not on his mind at all, "how does your girlfriend feel about it?"

he stops for a second, movements ceasing, facial expression thoughtful, only constant his chest rising and falling at the same pace as before. you're convinced, all at once, that your fun is over, that tonight won't go as planned, maybe you should've at least waited until you were finished.

his response is softer, more contemplative than the desperation fueled plea before, "how do you feel about it?"

you can't help but laugh, eyebrows furrowed, "i- i mean? fine, yeah, i don't," you take a deep breath, mentally flinching at how horrible it is before it even comes out of your mouth, "i don't really care. i'm having a good time."

his hands are back on your body, assured and quick, leaning down to place kisses against your chest and shoulders once again. "good, so when can i see you again?"

♡ tsukishima ♡ 4 months // tsukishima is an asshole, toxic and blamey, degrading almost, hot

“stay just like that,” he orders, arms crossed over one another, each of his hands on your opposite hips as he holds you still. no hand to guide his throbbing cock, he lets it slip between your lips a few times, missing your sloppy, drenched hole, grinding against your puffy lips. it feels like he’s almost missing on purpose, just loving the feeling of his length dragging across your messy pussy.

when he pushes inside of you, he does so slowly but forcefully, rolls his hips and thrusts his cock as deep as it’ll fucking go.

“fuck, you’re so goddamn tight, perfect for my cock,” he mutters aimlessly. you’re half convinced it’s just instinct, no purpose other than he couldn’t not let the words slip.

“how would your girlfriend feel about that?”

he is so ready with a comeback, it almost feels like he’s been waiting for this for your entire affair. you’ve never brought up his girlfriend before. too timid to say it aloud or afraid it would result in him leaving, it didn’t really matter.

over the last couple months, you’ve grown to know tsukishima pretty well, have learned to roll with the punches and throw a few right back at him and he’s so focused now, not too much attention on you, or at least not in that way, and as much as you want to chalk it up to an accident or slip of the tongue, you both know how deliberate it is

“aren't you just as much to blame as i am?” he retorts, not slowing or missing a beat, digging his fingers into your hips harsher, pulling you onto his cock harsher.

you open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off.

“i think it’s pretty much your fault, actually, looking like that and expecting me not to want you on the spot,” tsukishima mutters, can barely get it out with his smile turning into a smirk.

he wraps his fingers around your shoulder, other hand around your forearm and guides you up towards him, back pressed against his chest, head craned to the side so you can see the devilish look in his eyes. uses gravity and your weight and the small thrusts upwards to fuck you like this and your protest is mashed between whimpers and affirming moans.

“not-” huff “not my fault,” you gasp, pushing off of the bed in time with his movements until only the tip is inside of you and then falling completely seated onto his thick cock. “she’s not my girlfriend,” you reason.

there’s still no hesitation, fingers clenched onto your jaw to force eye contact as he speaks, “but you know about her, right? doesn’t that make you just as bad as me?” he grunts as he buries himself inside of you, teeth sinking into your shoulder. “maybe worse.”

it hits you softly and then all at once, this guilt. and then he starts fucking you harder, changes positions, moves both of your bodies until his weight is on your back, your chest pressed into the mattress as he fucks into you, hand around your throat and waist holding you tightly in place. it’s harder. and it’s faster. and it’s better than you’ve ever been fucked before, even than the other times you’ve been fucked by tsukishima. you’re clenching around him, stomach tense, and breath bare.

it’s not that he's never wanted this, he’d just never let his mind wander to a family of his own. even if he and his father are now on good terms — somewhat — he’d never thought he’d be able to experience this.

he takes another piece of sushi with the chopsticks, carefully holding his hand under it so that it doesn’t fall or the soy sauce doesn’t drip. “here,” he says gently. you open your mouth with a resounding aaaaah!, happy to be pampered by him, then chomp on the sushi happily. “dude, I missed this so much,” you moan, gesturing for him to come closer so that you can press a peck on his cheek.

“don’t call me dude,” he complains, but he’s smiling. how could he ever be actually mad at you when you’ve given him everything he’s never allowed himself to dream of? “you just gave birth to my kid. s’not fair.”

looking down at aiko, you gently tap your finger on her nose, laughing when she scrunches it. “I promise you were worth it, baby girl, but it was torture. I can’t wait for you to be able to eat sushi, you don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

shouto takes a piece of sashimi this time, dipping it into soy sauce and sweet and sour sauce. he went all out, buying what looks to be at least half the restaurant’s worth of food for the day– not that you want to complain, obviously. you haven’t eaten raw fish in nine months and you have all the intentions to make up for the lost time. you hum as he feeds it to you, resting your back against the pillows of your bed. “after finishing all of this, I’m passing out,” you announce.

your husband nods, “seems fair to me.” he looks over to your daughter, whose eyes are no longer as focused as before. “I think she wants to join you in the land of dreams, too,” he whispers gently.

you pout. “our first mommy-daughter time and she’s falling asleep. she’s already so tired of me.”

shouto laughs at that, because even thinking about someone being able to be tired of you is so unbelievable to him that it’s funny. “give her to me,” he says after his laughter dies down, setting the chopsticks on the plate, “I’ll tuck her in the crib.”

you comply, gently lowering her in his arms, where she settles without a fuss. your husband gets up to go over the crib, discreetly looking under her little pink beanie to see a few tufts of red sprinkled on her mostly white hair.

she looks like fuyumi, he briefly thinks, smiling. she may be now, but I hope she grows up to be her mother's lookalike. delicately brushing the pad of his index finger across her face, he traces her little nose, the lids of her closed eyes and the curves of her cheeks — he can already picture a little girl with your eyes, your nose, your smile and your tenderness. the mere thought brings tears in his eyes, and he moves to lay her in the crib, tucking her in her little blanket.

he looks back to you, now scarfing down your sushi like there’s no tomorrow, and he thinks that he’s never been more in love in his entire life. “thank you,” he chokes, bending down to press a kiss on your temple. you look at him, confused, cheeks full of food like a hamster’s.

“wha?” you manage, gulping down another few bites of sashimi. “for giving birth to her,” he explains, “for putting up with me.”

“aw, sho,” you coo, smushing his face with your free hand, pecking his lips. “you’re so cute when you get all mushy on me.”

he can’t deny the obvious, so he just hums. “whatever you say, beautiful.”

“when are your parents passing by?”

“could be any moment now. last I heard, they were in the car waiting for mum to get everything– she made you muffins.”

you smile, melted by your mother-in-law’s thoughtfulness. having lost your own mother when you were just a kid, rei todoroki has taken it upon herself to fulfill the role that until meeting shouto had been empty. despite everything that had happened to her, she was always kind to you, treating you more like a second daughter rather than just her son’s girlfriend-then-wife.

you chomp on another nigiri, closing your eyes at the taste. “that’s it, I’m never getting pregnant ever again. to spend another nine months avoiding this…”

your husband bursts out laughing — a rather rare sight, even for such happy moments like these. “don’t laugh at me! you were eating raw salmon behind my back this whole time, so you just don’t understand!”

he gasps dramatically. “so you knew!”

“of course I knew, you traitor! you said you would’ve waited until I wasn’t pregnant anymore to eat it, but I found the box of it once when I was cleaning the kitchen! how could you do that to me–”

a knocking comes from the door, a head peeking through the small opening of it. “are we interrupting something?” fuyumi asks, a slight tease in her tone.

the bickering dies down immediately as rei and enji enter the room too, small smiles on their faces, endeavor’s hands busy with a plate full of muffins that he promptly leaves at your bedside. “everything went well, I hope?” he asks politely. it’s almost comical seeing him use such a mild tone, as he’s so big and buff that he takes up almost half the room.

your husband nods for you, “it was less gorey than I had feared.”

your face blanches. “wow, honey, what did you expect that could’ve possibly been worse than that?”

“don’t listen to him,” rei waves a hand in the air, “he’s always preparing for the worst. but it is true that you’re looking pretty good to have just given birth, I must say.”

fuyumi claps her hands. “yeah! you’re not looking like you just got split open in two. I’m pretty sure that when my time comes, I’ll look like a truck just ran me over.” she looks around, carefully eyeing the crib, “now, where’s my favourite niece?”

“your only niece,” shouto corrects, laughing. he carefully takes aiko from her cot and shows her off to his family. fuyumi gets closer without a second thought, cooing at the newborn, while rei and enji stay quite aback– you wonder if the last baby they ever held was your husband when he was little.

fuyumi coos and awws, bursting out crying when shouto lowers the cap on your daughter's head and shows her the little tufts that are her hair. "she looks like me!", she wheezes as your husband lowers aiko in her arms, rei and enji getting almost unnoticeably closer.

they all stare at her in silence before you break it, looking at rei. "would you like to hold her?"

she hesitates, her husband stilling at her side, but fuyumi doesn't have it– she hands her your bundle of joy happily, and the way your mother-in-law relaxes so quickly is almost heartbreaking. enji bends down quietly to have a better look at her, and you think you see his eyes tearing up.

he sniffles, looking at you. "you did a really good job," he manages. "she's perfect."

ii. case two : rooftop roughhousing

you think you’re so intelligent.

lunch break & you’re on the school rooftop with a skip in your step. you dragged suna rintarou away from his teammates during lunch & now he trails behind you with hands in his pockets as you hop unto the railing.

thighs crossed. hair in the wind. lopsided grin with blood drenched cheeks & eyes star-achingly bright. “tell me you love me.”

he’s rolling his eyes but his palms find your thighs. “i love you.”

you pout. “say it like you mean it.”

he kisses your neck instead.

you squeal, dodging suna’s kisses as he chases your lips with a grin. he pulls away teasingly before you tug him in by the tie.

you don’t hear the door unlock behind you.

rintarou’s tongue licks your molars. you kiss at his teeth & his thumb grazes your inner thigh as you giggle between his lips. he mutters something about how your gloss tastes like home before a voice sends a jolt down your spine:

“OUT.”

the home room teacher with obnoxious clipboard in hand & outfit desperate to align with the office siren aesthetic. you cling to suna as he quickly lifts you off the railing, palm still gripping your skirt even when he sets you on the ground.

busted.

★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ STUDENT RECORD.

offense: INAPPROPRIATE RELATIONS IN RESTRICTED AREA

punishment: detention.

issued by: madam keqing, homeroom teacher.

‘such behavior is not tolerated on school grounds. should this happen again, parents will be notified immediately.’

iii. case three : security snitching

suna’s tapping your thighs like it’s morse code for ‘mine.’

5PM thursday / behind the school gym / your fingers & suna’s belt loop. the middle blocker’s especially hungry today. god knows that thursdays mean you don’t get to share a single class with the athlete; so on days like this when school is long closed & you think no one’s watching he kisses you like he can’t fucking breathe.

point of empasis: you think no one’s watching.

the security camera overhead gets a front row seat to your antics. suna says your gloss spoils in the heat so you lick him off your wrist like honey. he’s pressing you against the wall with teeth on your earlobe like if he bites a little more you’ll seep into his skin. you let him unbutton your shirt & kiss you till he’s love-drunk & bleary eyed.

friday morning starts off in the vice-principal’s office.

black & white images neatly printed on the desk, a fan that blows just loud enough to cover up your feet tapping. you’re mortified. suna’s fingers, however, drum on your thigh like he’s not in trouble for kissing you silly on a midsummer day.

“what do you have to say for yourselves?”

“crazy work.”

you pinch him under the table. you don’t miss the grin that tugs at his lips as he takes a good look at the photos.

“interesting response, mr.suna,” the vice-principal’s eyes narrow. without them leaving suna he continues, “and ms. l/n ? i expect better from you. both your parents will be notified.”

you’re about to apologize & plead on your behalves, but suna notices the worry in your eyes & beats you to the punch.

“wait,” he clears his throat. “i have an explanation.”

“yes?”

“we’re in love.”

he says it like it’s the cure to all your problems. you resist the urge to slap him (and yourself).

“thank you, you are both dismissed. and again, your parents will be notified.”

busted.

again.

★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ STUDENT RECORD.

offense: EXPLICIT BEHAVIOR ON SCHOOL PROPERTY

punishment: parent report issued, two-day detention and required report on student ethics.

issued by: mr. ayato, vice principal.

‘inarizaki high makes it a point to ensure student safety by strictly prohibiting sexual or explicit acts on the premises. we hope ms.l/n will heed our warnings, regardless of whether or not she is “in love.”

STUDENT CASE STATUS : CLOSED.

anonymous · 2d                     ok so craigslist job post said “immediate pay light risk, night work.” now i’m wearing a clown mask in a warehouse. send help                        ⠀⠀⠀⤷ user33 sorry but that's not a job that's a whole ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ origin story                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ jokerh8page U got 5 mins before U end up in a batman ⠀⠀⠀⠀ monologue                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ vigilantekisser record it please for research purposes                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ anonymous What warehouse is it? Asking for a friend.

hihihihello · 9h                    Random guy in a cape just ran past my window. I didnt even look up. Im eating pasta.                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ bodegaon9th real ones finish the food first                       ⠀⠀⠀⤷ robinwatch girl which cape tho?? important ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ distinction

anonymous · 9h                   heard gunshots then red hood walked out of an alley holding a stray cat? chat we've lost the plot

allradionohead · 12m                   someone in a full riddler costume is doing sudoku at the bus stop im scared

user20 · 13h                       Told this guy at the bar I liked his mask and he said that it was for anonymity. I think I flirted with a henchman..            ⠀⠀⠀⤷ user54 RUN THE FUCK ❓❓❓❓❓❓               ⠀⠀⠀⤷ pepisprite well you definitely did...             ⠀⠀⠀⤷ randomdude At least he was honest. 🤷

uptowngrl · 42m                       did anyone else hear the explosion near robinson park or am i finally going insane                 ⠀⠀⠀⤷ user44 It wasn’t just you. Cops blocked off the east ⠀⠀⠀⠀ entrance.                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ owlcityreject scarecrow toxin leak again?? i swear my    ⠀⠀⠀⠀ lungs cannot keep doing this lol                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ piledriverwaltz lmfao okay so apparently like the whole ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ass batfam was there thats why it was loud 😭😭😭

gracelandtoo · 1h                     DEAD SERIOUS RN i went to the pier and saw penguin arguing with an ACTUAL penguin. i don’t have context and i don’t want any..

arkhamupdates · 7h                 arkham security suddenly doubled today. something’s definitely up                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ user63 Harley escaped again?                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ anonymous rumor is ivy tried to break her out but got  ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀caught                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ notahench nah i work nearby, think its hush stirring ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀shit

user31 · 2h                  Does anyone know why were there like six bats circling crime alley last night                                         ⠀⠀⠀⤷ nightwingsgf that usually means robin’s doing   ⠀⠀⠀⠀ something he shouldn’t 💀

vigilantekisser · 9h                    bro WHY is batman on my roof rn this is not a drill HELPPP                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ anonymous pics or it didnt happen                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ vigilantekisser HE JUMPED OFF BEFORE I COULD  ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀GET ANYTHING                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ batwatcherreal he does this every week don't stress

punkr0cker · 50m                    istg i genuinely cannot get anywhere bc every hour some goon or guy in a spandex is running around in the subway LIKE OH MY GODDDDD PLEASE CAN THEY TAKE ONE DAY OFF

user111 · 4h                    something exploded in the bay and the water turned green for a second                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ user54 yeah that was jokerfish testing day don’t worry    ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ab it

gothamsubwayhell · 3h                    train delayed for the 70th time this week due to a masked individual spotted running on top of it who's surprised!!                      ⠀⠀⠀⤷ gothaminectsasy i swear nightwing thinks hes in fast ⠀   & furious or sum

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Dick's reaches blindly for the door close button, unwilling to break your frantic kissing, and you're about to dissolve into him completely when—

"Wait! Hold the elevator, please!"

Dick tenses, his movement uncertain as he pulls away from your embrace. His gaze flickers from you to the panel of buttons, and there' a split second where you watch him weigh his options— a specific brand of mischief dancing at the corners of his mouth.

You know exactly which button he's considering.

"Dick," you warn, pushing lightly at his chest.

You'd be more inclined to indulge in your more selfish tendencies if your building’s elevator wasn't notoriously hard to catch. It would be downright cruel to ignore the plead.

Dick sighs, but he's already reaching for the door open button. "I know, I know."

And even as he steps back with exaggerated reluctance, you know the protest is all performance. He would've held the door anyway. You find the act overwhelmingly endearing— the pretense of being dragged into doing the right thing when kindness is his baseline.

Dick manages to steal one more kiss before the stranger rushes in, smoothing his hair as he stands straight.

"Thank you so, so much," they say and you smile, nodding, unable to give them any real attention at all. You're trying your best to look like a normal person who definitely wasn't just seconds away from doing something extremely inadvisable in a semi-public space.

You and Dick stand side by side now, and your hands are next to each other but no longer touching. A careful inch of space that feels infinitely charged. You're so aware of his presence that it borders on painful.

A sense of giddiness sings through your bloodstream, and your cheeks are beginning to ache from the effort of containing your smile. The ghost of his mouth is burning against your lips. You can still taste him perfectly.

But despite practically inhaling him a few moments prior, you can't bring yourself to look at him now. Can't bring yourself to glance sideways because you know that if you do, you'll combust. You'll reach for him. You'll forget entirely about the stranger politely looking at their phone.

You watch the numbers climb as the elevator continues its descent.

3... 4... 5...

In a few short minutes, Dick's mouth will be on you again. The thought makes heat pool low in your belly.

You bounce slightly on your heels, restless, trying to channel this energy somewhere that isn't directly into Dick Grayson's orbit.

His hand swings next to yours. You could easily interlace your fingers, fall into that natural pattern you've worn into your lives. But Dick hasn't reached for you yet—something he does instinctively. It makes you wonder if he's basking in this too. This strange secrecy of domesticity. A performance of restraint for sixty seconds.

You shift slightly, moving your arm until you can feel his fingers next to yours. Your chest tightens as you risk a glance his way.

He's already looking at you. A barely restrained grin pulls at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes—god, his eyes—drop to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting yours again.

Desire coils low in your stomach. Tight and insistent and completely overwhelming.

His index finger extends slowly, dragging across the back of your hand. It's featherlight. More intimate than anything else that's happened tonight. Your breath catches and you tighten your lips, trying desperately to maintain composure.

But god, all you want to do is jump his bones.

You're staring at him now. Can't look away, really. His finger trails up your wrist, your forearm, drawing invisible patterns on your skin, and you feel it everywhere—in your chest, your throat, the base of your spine.

The elevator dings.

Your floor.

Dick's hand immediately tangles with yours, and he's moving, pulling you forward with barely contained urgency. "Have a good night!" he sings over his shoulder, all charm and ease.

You manage to parrot a breathless repetition of his words as you stumble after him, and you catch the stranger's knowing smirk as the doors close.

Then you're in the hallway and Dick is kissing you—unabashed, hungry, teenager-desperate. Your back hits the wall and you laugh against his mouth, hands in his hair, pulling him closer even as you're trying to move toward your apartment.

"C'mon," you breathe between kisses, but he's not listening, lips trailing down your jaw to your neck.

When you finally reach your door, you fumble for your keys with shaking hands. Dick is immediately behind you, his body pressed against your back, mouth finding your shoulder, your neck, anywhere there's exposed skin. His fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, splaying against your stomach, and the heat of his palms against your bare skin makes you gasp.

"You're not helping," you say, trying for scolding but landing somewhere around breathless.

"That's because I'm not trying to help," he murmurs.

He kisses behind your ear, takes your earlobe between his teeth, and your whole body responds—arching back into him, your hand stilling on the doorknob.

"Dick..."

"Mmhmm?" His tongue traces the shell of your ear.

You manage to shove the door open.

Inside, everything happens in fragments. Kissing. His shirt coming off. Yours following. A trail of clothing leading to your bedroom. You're ahead of him, naked before he's managed his pants, and you settle on the bed, pushing yourself back until you're leaning on your hands.

The position is deliberate, calculated to drive him insane—back arched slightly, legs falling open just enough to be inviting, watching him through your lashes.

Dick pauses in the doorway, hands frozen on his belt buckle. His eyes drag over you hungrily. Everything in his body language screams that he wants to devour you, and the sight alone makes you feel bold— sexy. Unbelievably desirable.

And totally, completely, drenched.

"You just gonna stand there?" you ask, letting your voice drop lower. You put your weight on one hand, the other drifting down your stomach. "Should I start without you?"

That gets him moving. His eyes flash dark and he fumbles with his belt, yanking it free. "Don't you dare."

You smirk and let your hand drift even lower. "Or what?"

"Or I'll—" He's struggling with his button now, fingers clumsy with urgency. You bite your lip to keep from laughing. "Jesus, why are pants so—"

"Need help?"

The offer is innocent but your tone isn't.

"No, I just—" He gets the button open, shoves his pants down, and begins to kick his shoes off. "These fucking laces—"

You open your mouth to tease him when it happens.

His foot catches. His eyes widen. There's a split second where you both realize what's about to happen, where time seems to slow down enough for you to register the trajectory, and then—

The sickening crack of his face meeting your bedframe.

"Oh, fuck—" You're scrambling off the bed, dropping to your knees beside him. The carpet burns slightly against your bare skin. "Dick?"

Your hands hover over him, unsure where to touch. He groans—muffled, pained—and rolls onto his back. Blood is already streaming from his nose.

"Oh my god, are you okay?"

You automatically scan the scene even as your heart pounds: he's caught most of the blood with his hands cupped over his face, but some has escaped, decorating your rug in abstract, blooming shapes.

"No," he says, nasal and thick. "Definitely not okay."

You help him sit up, gentle hands on his shoulders, and he cradles his nose with both palms.

"Okay, shit. Uh— tissues!" You're already moving. "Getting tissues!"

"And maybe my dignity," Dick groans faintly, "If you can find it anywhere."

Dick is sitting on the edge of the bed when you return, shirtless and hunched over slightly, one hand holding a wad of tissues to his nose.

You're wearing his shirt now, and you've pulled on a fresh pair of underwear. The ones from before were already soaked through before disaster struck—and you're trying very hard not to think about how this is absolutely not how the night was supposed to go.

The blood has soaked through the white fabric pressed to his face. The sight is jarring, even to your blood-seasoned eyes, but the speed of the spread doesn't raise any concerns. Just the normal profuse bleeding of a normal hurt nose. Dick seems more inconvenienced than pained.

He looks up at the sound of your footsteps and his shoulders relax, posture straightening slightly. His eyes catch on what you're carrying. He raises a brow.

"...Pizza rolls?"

You tilt the bag, examining it in all its frozen glory, and bite back a laugh as you wrap it in a thin cloth. "What? I don't have an ice machine, remember?"

The corner of Dick's mouth curves upward, the expression slightly obstructed by the blood-stained tissue. "You bought some cold packs a week ago."

He's right. You’d bought them specifically for moments like these—the inevitable injuries that come with your lives, the sprains and bruises and apparently sex-related bloody noses.

"I know, but I keep forgetting to put them in the freezer," you admit with a sheepish shrug, walking closer. It's not your fault that your lives are so busy.

"I need to get you an ice maker, then," Dick says.

"For what?"

"Emergencies. Drinks."

You tilt your head. "And all of your future horny-fail wipe-outs?"

He tsks, shaking his head, but his eyes gleam with mirth even as he winces slightly at the movement. "Too soon, babe. Too soon."

You bite back a smile, the muscles in your cheeks aching from the effort, and close the distance between you, stopping just in front of where he sits. He pulls the tissue away from his face, examining it briefly.

"Still bleeding?" you ask.

Dick shakes his head carefully. "Nope, thank god."

He tosses the wad of tissue onto the bedside table. It lands half on the wood, half on his phone screen, and you grimace slightly at the mess but don't comment. You've both dealt with worse. Blood and bodily fluids stopped being squeamish territory a long time ago.

You take in the sight of him—hair disheveled, nose already swelling, dried blood crusted at his nostrils and smeared across his fingers. Still as handsome as ever.

He reaches out and wraps a hand around one of your wrists, tugging gently. When you resist, he makes a sound of complaint—somewhere between a whine and a grumble, like an upset dog who's been denied his favorite spot on the couch.

He tugs again. "Come closer."

"No."

"Why nooot?"

"Because you need to keep your head level."

"My head is level."

"It won't be if I'm closer." You raise an eyebrow, waiting for protest.

Dick's eyes gleam with something mischievous. He won't even bother lying. You both know he'll tilt his head back to look at you the second you got close enough, injury be damned.

"Please?" He tugs again, more insistent, and you feel your resolve cracking. "I'm injured and in need of comfort."

He wins—as he always does—and you let him pull you close enough that he can wrap his hands around the backs of your thighs. His palms are warm through the fabric of his shirt, fingers spreading possessively, and something in your chest goes soft.

You raise the bag of pizza rolls, holding it carefully as you try to find the best angle to press it against his swollen nose.

Catching his expression, you pause.

He's looking at the bag again, nose wrinkling slightly before he winces at the motion. "And you're sure that's all we have?"

"Yes."

"One hundred percent?"

"What's the difference? It's frozen and big."

He doesn't say anything, and you know he's just drawing it out for the fun of it. You roll your eyes affectionately. "You expect me to pull a bag of ice from my ass, or something?"

He laughs, the sound immediately followed by a wince. "Ow. Don't make me laugh." But he's grinning despite the pain. "Wouldn't that'd be a neat trick, though."

You're so over him right now. Affectionately, but still. You narrow your eyes. "Do you want the pizza rolls or not? They're getting soggy."

A dramatic sigh leaves him. "Fine. Roll me."

His stupid words make you snort—an inelegant sound you'd be embarrassed about if it were anyone else. "You're such a loser. C'mere."

Thumb pressed gently against his chin, you tilt his head downward into a better position. Your other hand brings the bag to rest against the bridge of his nose.

Dick is still looking at you through his lashes. You can only imagine the slight strain there must be in his eyes to look so directly upward despite the downward tilt of his head. But he seems determined to keep his gaze on your face, unwilling to look away even for comfort.

Something in your chest shimmers with warmth.

You ignore his gaze on purpose, wanting to bask in it a little longer—the idea that the man you're in love with enjoys simply gazing at you, even when there are more important matters at hand.

But you start to feel too exposed, almost nervous under the weight of his attention. "You're staring at me."

"Can't help it," he murmurs, running his hands up and down your thighs in slow, soothing strokes. "My pretty girlfriend—being so sweet to me, using her pizza rolls."

You shake your head, but his words sink into your bloodstream anyway, warming you from the inside out. This is different from the heat earlier—less urgent, more tender.

"And the bag is unopened," you say softly, playing up the tragedy. "So I'm basically sacrificing them for you."

"Oh, sacrificing, huh?" There's amusement in his voice. "Liar. You're just gonna put them back in the freezer."

"Uh, no. They're gonna be all soggy and wet, so they won't freeze the same again. I'll have to throw them away."

You're being serious, and from his expression, he knows it. He's amused all the same.

"Well, I'm so sorry for inconveniencing you with my bleeding nose."

"Apology accepted." You grin, unable to help yourself.

You gently lift the bag to peer at his nose, the skin now slightly pink from the cold. Your free hand cups his cheek, thumb dragging along the line of his cheekbone.

"It's totally broken, isn't it?"

He tightens his mouth and gives a small nod. "Oh yeah, no question."

You frown, something sweet and aching blooming in your chest. Poor sweet, pathetic man. You press the bag back against his nose and Dick grimaces as a few rolls shift, redistributing their weight.

"Sorry," you say softly. "I think they're thawing."

"Hmm. You think?" There's no real bite to it, just teasing.

You roll your eyes affectionately, applying slight pressure to hold the bag steady. It shifts again—barely, a minuscule movement—and Dick lets out an exaggerated whimper.

"Ouch."

"Oh please, that didn't hurt. You're such a faker."

You've seen him take hits that would hospitalize a normal person. Watched him shrug off injuries that make your stomach turn. But here, now, with just the two of you, he turns into this—soft and needy and dramatic about the smallest discomforts.

You love it.

Dick grins, unapologetic, and reaches a hand to hold the bag against his nose. The other grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from his cheek, and he guides it to his lips to press a soft kiss to your palm.

"Why are you being so sassy to me, hm?" you ask.

"Because I was so excited to fuck my beautiful girlfriend, and instead I broke my nose on her bedframe."

The words send heat curling through your stomach—a reminder of where this night was supposed to go. You laugh, opening your mouth to respond, when you find yourself thinking about how he'd bought the frame just last week.

He'd been very enthusiastic about having bedposts, for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with aesthetics and everything to do with other nights. Silk ties and murmured praise and—

"What is it?" Dick asks, watching your expression shift.

You shake your head, trying to dismiss it, but the image of him begins to replay in your mind. His widening eyes, the split second of realization, the sound of impact. Fighting back your laugher, you attempt to distract yourself by running your fingers through his hair.

His face falls, unamused. "You're thinking about me falling, aren't you?"

Your chest is tight with barely contained glee, eyes almost prickling with tears. "I'm sorry! It was just so funny."

"I'm glad my pain amuses you," he mutters, but he's biting back a smile.

The laughter breaks free now, spilling out of you. "And you, of all people. So much for those quick, agile reflexes, huh?"

Dick pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, looking away as he shakes his head. "You're so mean, you know that? A real bully, laughing in the face of a wounded man."

"You love me."

"I love you," he agrees without hesitation, and your laugh turns soft.

Your fingers are still in his hair, gentle and soothing, and his eyes have gone half-lidded from the attention.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the doctor?" you ask quietly.

"I've had worse."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I'm giving."

He removes the bag from his nose, setting it on the covers beside him, and you immediately start to protest. "You should—"

"C'mere," he says, hands reaching for your hips, pulling you forward.

You resist, hands now bracing against his shoulders. "Dick, you're hurt—"

"Yeah, my nose." He looks almost offended that you're protesting. "Not my lap. Sit."

There's something so affectionate in his insistence, so earnest in his need to have you close, that you let him pull you down, settling carefully onto his thighs as his arms immediately wrap around your waist.

He tries to bury his face against your neck—instinct, muscle memory—but pulls back with a wince when his nose makes contact with your skin.

"Okay, maybe not that," he mutters, and you chuckle softly, fingers carding through his hair once more.

"Yeah, maybe not."

You sit like that for a moment, in the quiet of your bedroom, Dick's hands tracing patterns on your lower back through his shirt. The pizza rolls slowly thaw beside you.

"You know," Dick says eventually, his voice slightly muffled. "I still think that bedframe was a good investment."

You grin and begin to imagine all the ways you can use it.

AUTHORS NOTE: this started off as smut but then i was like lol imagine he tripped and then i was sucked in my by love for silly, goofy couples. hes just so boyfriend to me asdfgj

"'should clean her up,"

satoru's voice is hoarse, hardly audible from a whole night of whimpering and whining in both you and suguru's ears. suguru takes care of the both of you a little too well on nights like these, and even satoru gets a little loopy himself from it. there's definitely no moving you from suguru's chest, you're glued there for good, little hands clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging in deep without you even noticing. it's an awkward position to have you in when they need to clean you, but it's nothing new. it's almost a routine at this point.

suguru's hands hook underneath your knees, pulling your legs apart wider for satoru's access. he's greeted with a heavenly sight, a mix of both of their cum dripping from your wrecked hole, fluttering ever so slightly with each breath satoru fans against it. it takes everything in satoru to not dive back in and drink up the yummy concoction of your mixed juices, but that'll disturb his precious baby who's still recovering. satoru may be a selfish sometimes, but not that selfish.

he stumbles along to the bathroom, legs almost as shaky as yours (dramatic, you can hardly stand) as he retrieves the soft, damp cloth. meanwhile, suguru holds you tight, drawing little hearts and flowers on your back with the tip of his finger, pressing the occasional kiss to your sweaty temple. you always like those, humming something unintelligible whenever he does, nuzzling into his neck to get even closer to him, which is practically impossible.

"how's the koala?"

satoru returns with a bowl of warm water and the cloth, smiling at the two of his lovers so intertwined with each other. suguru huffs amusedly, hands returning to your thighs as satoru prepares to clean you.

"she's okay… just a little sleepy, right?"

you start to nod, but you're cut off by a little squeal, prompted by the white haired man dragging the soft cloth between your folds, cleaning up the yucky, gloopy mess that went cold ages ago now. suguru's grip on your thighs tighten as you try to squirm away from the stimulation between your legs, pressing kisses to your temple and cooing soft praises into your ear,

"doin' so good, princess..,"

"such a good girl..,"

"my precious baby, so good f'me..,"

satoru remains focused, getting you all nice and clean, patting your ass softly to indicate he's finished. suguru let's go of your legs, allowing them to fall back into their usual position. his fingers card through your hair, tucking it behind an ear so he can get a good look at your face. god, you're spent, dripping a pool of drool onto his shoulder as you blink slowly, hardly conscious.

"jesus… she's really gone tonight, huh?"

he hums, taking the (rinsed) cloth from satoru to wipe up your smeared mascara. poor thing… they really took it out of you tonight, huh? suguru doesn't think he's ever seen you this unresponsive for this long.

"mh, and who's fault is that?"

satoru retorts, taking the bowl and cloth back to the bathroom before settling on the bed next to the two of you. fuck, his hips ache and his thighs still sting — he wouldn't be surprised if he woke up with DOMS tomorrow morning. fucking you, and getting fucked by suguru is a whole workout, he might have to skip the gym tomorrow. suguru's head tilts to the side, eyes scanning over satoru's flushed, worn out features. the two of you are oh so good to him, he doesn't care if one of you is acting up, or the other is being overly whiny and clingy, he can't be more happy to have the two of you in his life.

"did so good today, toru…"

he hums, smoothing a hand through satoru's fluffy strands, the other man immediately caving at the affection, leaning into it with a soft smile on his swollen, pink lips. suguru urges satoru closer, wrapping his arm around him, stroking the soft skin of his lower back. satoru hums, nuzzling into your damp hair as he lets out a soft sigh. you stir, turning to find the source of the warmth pressing against you back.

"hey pretty girl…"

he hums, stroking his finger against your damp cheek, his heart just melting when you lean into the touch. you're like a cute, little animal when you get this way, like a little kitten nuzzling your cheek against him. you sniffle, humming as you attempt to shuffle off of suguru, wanting to curl up with satoru instead. he lets you, pulling you into his arms and pressing you against his chest.

"you comin' back to us?"

"mm… mhm…"

you manage to hum, twirling satoru's hair around your finger as you wiggle even closer to him, prompting him to tighten his grip around you. you're still sweaty, so is satoru. it's a little uncomfortable as your bodies slip and slide against each other's, the sheets sticking to your skin. suguru's can help but eye the way you almost try to wiggle away from satoru, even if you want the snuggles. he gets it, it does feel kinda gross.

"i'll get the bath running,"

suguru stands, stretching his arms over his head, giving you and satoru a lovely view, his muscles rippling in the low light of the room. you don't care though. you reach out a hand, attempting to claw him back into bed, but being far too weak to even lift your arm very high up. a soft whine escapes your lips, something suguru has ignore otherwise he'll come right back into bed and snuggle with your sweaty body. satoru brings you right back against him, cooing into your ear.

"he'll be right back, baby, it's okay..,"

satoru attempts to soothe you, his lips pressing against your neck and jaw as his hand sweeps soothing motions over your tummy. but it's no use, your eyes are already welling up with tears — so sensitive, he knows you'll be mortified at your behaviour when you wake up tomorrow. satoru thinks it's sweet though, the fact that you trust the two of them this much to act so vulnerable warms his heart. you're always so shy and closed off with your emotions, but when you're like this you let them all out. it's refreshing to see.

"don't cry..,"

suguru has to hold back a chuckle at you, god you're so cute. silly, but cute. he leaves you with a kiss to the forehead before heading off to start running the bath. satoru, meanwhile, takes his time in delicately placing the softest pecks to your face as he moves you onto your back; starting with your cheeks, dragging down to under your jaw, leaving a little nip here and there before soothing it over with his tongue. he then travels back up to your temples, rounds over your brow before trailing down the bridge of your nose. he kisses the tip of your nose, then your philtrum, then your chin, before finally landing on your puffed up lips — all pouty after having to wait that long for a proper kiss.

"how you feeling…? sore…?"

he asks, gazing down at you with those pretty ocean eyes, white lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he fights to keep his eyes open — he gets so tired after sex, but he has to hold out just a little longer, just to make sure you're okay.

you nod, lids heavy as much as his are. the running water coming from the adjacent room is calming, almost too much, almost putting the two of you to sleep. satoru's head drops to your shoulder, nuzzling into your collarbone to breathe in your post-sex scent. god, he can't get enough of it. you smell so good like this, better than any of your body lotions, shower gels, or perfumes. call him weird, he doesn't care, he loves the natural scent of you more than anything.

"sorry baby… went a little crazy with the hickies…"

satoru's voice is slurring at this point, melting on top of you when you start playing with his hair. it's something he can never resist. his eyes shut as his arms curl underneath you, bringing you right against his chest.

it's a sweet sight to see for suguru when he comes through the door. he'd love to let the two of you rest, you both worked so hard tonight, but he really should get the two of you in the bath. you're both all sweaty and stinky, still covered in cum in all the wrong places — how is it in your hair? he needs to change the sheets too…

"come on, sleepyheads. bathtime…"

manoeuvring satoru off you is a difficult task; he's gone all limp, dead weight in suguru's arms as he hauls him up to his feet, ushering him into the bathroom. he stumbles a little, but climbs into the warm, soapy water with ease, relaxing under the sweet scent of your marshmallow bubble bath.

you're much easier of course, clinging onto suguru immediately, wrapping your limbs around him as you hide away in his neck — just like satoru did to you. god, the two of you are so similar in some ways, sometimes he feels like he's dating the same person. however, the issue with you is getting you to let go of him. you whine as he tries to set you down in the bathtub where satoru is already laying, crossing your ankles over his back, sinking those sharp, little nails into his skin once again. god he should really get you to cut those, he already has enough red marks on his back.

"hey— the sooner you get washed, the sooner we can cuddle you to sleep,"

you grumble at his scolding, but eventually you loosen you grip, letting suguru guide you into the steamy water onto your other boyfriend's lap. satoru accepts you into his arms easily, hooking his chin over you shoulder, grabbing the loofa and the shower gel to start cleaning you and himself up. he lathers the soap up before gently dragging it along your upper body, wiping up all the dirt and grime.

you've regained a little bit of strength, enough to help wash satoru as he lays back in the bath. he keeps himself busy by kissing any area he can reach.

"you two clean now?"

suguru returns, holding a few towels for the two of you, dressed in his pyjamas. he was half expecting to come back to the two of you asleep, so he can't help but smile as he watches his lovers lather each other in yummy smelling bubbles. he helps you out of the bath first, wrapping a fluffy towel around your body and setting you onto the toilet. satoru's next, until all three of you are back into the warm bedroom, with the air feeling much clearer and less muggy.

suguru can't help but assist with every little task for you and satoru. he loves providing for his lovers. even if you or satoru is perfectly capable of doing something by yourselves, he gets this unbearable, itching feeling to do it for you. he likes to style your hair before you leave the house, he loves picking out outfits for satoru, and of course he loves cooking for the two of you. whatever your little hearts desire, he'll do it. he doesn't care that satoru is a little older, he doesn't care about letting the two of you look after him — he'll only give in if you beg him too much — he'll take care of every little need of his partners.

"best boyfriend ever…"

satoru slurs after tugging on some loose boxers, planting a kiss to suguru's cheek before crawling underneath the covers. you nod in agreement while suguru towel dries your hair — he would properly dry it as he puts in so much effort to make sure your hair is nice and healthy, but he can practically hear how much your body is screaming for sleep. he slips on your cute, little pyjamas for you before satoru snatches you up, pulling you under the covers with him. suguru joins not soon after, switching off the lamp, casting the room in darkness; save for the soft glow from the nightlight in the corner of the room.

it's warm, so so comfy after a long night of being bent into all sorts of shapes. satoru curls around you from behind, tucking his face underneath your jaw while suguru drapes his arm across the two of you, his hand landing on satoru's hip where he rubs soothing circles across the bruises that have started to bloom.

the room dulls into the sounds of soft breathing and rustling sheets as the three of you finally succumb to pull of sleep. a lie in is definitely needed in the morning, maybe a massage too. but you fall asleep easier than ever, wrapped in the comforting embrace of your two doting boyfriends.

She hadn’t even heard him enter.

Slowly, she turned to face her husband, a faint crease forming between her brows. “My love, you spend all day in council, and the first thing you do after not seeing me for hours is talk more about the council?” she teased lightly, though there was a hint of tiredness beneath it. She turned back to the mirror, picking up her hairbrush and dragging it gently through her hair.

“Well, love, this isn’t about the council. Technically,” he replied, stepping further into the room. “It’s about Aang. He needs our help.”

“Our help?” She turned again, confusion softening her features as she rose from the vanity. Her green satin nightgown draped elegantly over her figure, the gold stitching catching the candlelight with every movement. The most prominent change, however, was the gentle, undeniable curve of her stomach.

“You knocked me up, dummy,” she teased, a small smile tugging at her lips as she approached him. Her hands slid to his shoulders, then to the ties of his robes, beginning to loosen them with practiced ease. “Or did you forget already?”

He laughed softly, the sound low and fond, allowing her to help him out of his robes as the fabric slipped from his shoulders.

“How could I forget?” he murmured, turning toward her.

His gaze drifted over her slowly, appreciatively, before settling on the curve of her stomach. His hands followed, almost instinctively, coming to rest there, warm, steady, protective. His thumbs brushed gentle circles over the satin, as if he could feel something deeper beneath it.

“When you carry the future of the Fire Nation inside you?” he said quietly, his voice softening. “A little piece of me…”

His eyes lifted to meet hers, something tender and unguarded flickering there.

“And all of you.”

She hummed softly, rising onto her tiptoes as her arms slipped around his neck, drawing him down to her. Her lips met his in a gentle, fleeting kiss, soft, familiar, almost teasing.

But when she tried to pull away, he didn’t let her.

His hand tightened at her waist, the other still resting protectively against her stomach as he followed her retreat, capturing her lips again before the distance could grow. Even as her heels lowered back to the floor, he bent with her, closing the space she had tried to create.

This time the kiss deepened, slower, warmer, lingering in a way that stole the breath from her lungs. It wasn’t hurried, but it wasn’t soft either; it carried weight, intention, something unspoken between them.

His thumb brushed lightly against her side as he tilted his head, pressing closer, as if memorizing her. The world beyond them seemed to fade, the council, the letter, everything, leaving only the quiet crackle of candlelight and the steady rhythm of shared breath.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t far, just enough for their foreheads to rest together, his lips still ghosting over hers, reluctant to let her go.

“I can’t get you pregnant again, can I? Double pregnant,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head at him. “Oh, you’ve certainly tried,” she replied, her voice laced with amusement. Her hand lingered briefly against his chest before she stepped back, just enough to create space between them. “But don’t try again, I need this thing out of me first.” "I don't know if I love you referring to our child as a thing."

She separated from him fully then, turning slightly as if to busy herself, though she didn’t miss the way his shoulders subtly slumped at the loss of contact. The warmth between them lingered in the space she left behind, unspoken but felt.

Her fingers adjusted the sleeve of her gown absentmindedly, her expression softening for just a moment before she glanced back at him over her shoulder. There was still a hint of her earlier smile there, though now tempered with curiosity.

“Now,” she said, more gently this time, “tell me what Aang wants.”

"That can wait for the morning." He mumbled, his eyes never leaving her lips as he pulled her back into another kiss.

“A village?”

Zuko sighed, steadying Appa’s harness as he helped his wife climb aboard. “Why would he possibly want us to go to a random village?” And why would he say pack a coat? We're going to a mountain aren't we?" she huffed, gripping the edge before finally pulling herself over with a bit more effort than she liked. "I hate mountains."

He lingered below for a moment, looking up at her, concern etched into his features. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to go? You can stay—I’ll be back in a couple days.”

She leaned over the edge slightly, brows knitting. “Aang needs the second-best earthbender with him, Zuko. I’m not disabled—”

She winced mid-sentence, her hand instinctively going to her stomach before she turned toward Toph. “Sorry.”

Toph shrugged easily. “Hey, I’m just glad you finally admitted I’m the better earthbender.”

“I give you your flowers when they’re due,” she shot back with a small smile.

Toph grinned, but it slowly faltered, her head tilting slightly as if listening to something no one else could hear. "Your heart must be beating really fast." "Is it?" The princess quirked her head confused. "Why else am I hearing two heartbeats coming from you?”

Katara gasped, her hands flying together in delight. “Oh my gosh, you’re pregnant! I thought your coat was just oddly bulky but you're pregnant! Oh my Gosh!" she exclaimed, immediately rushing forward to wrap the Fire Princess in a tight hug. “I thought they were just rumors, because surely you and Zuko would’ve told us!”

The princess blinked, caught off guard, before her gaze slid over to her husband, who was just now hauling himself rather ungracefully into Appa’s saddle.

“Zuko,” she said slowly, one brow arching, “I thought you told them.”

Zuko froze mid-step, staring back at her blankly. “I thought you did.”

There was a beat.

“Oh my gosh.”

“I mean, it was only a matter of time,” Katara chimed in, smiling knowingly. “You two have never exactly been subtle. And Zuko practically insisted on marrying you the moment he could.”

Toph snorted, crossing her arms. “Yeah, honestly? I’m surprised it took this long. Thought for sure you’d have a whole lineup of heirs by now if Zuko could keep his hands to himself for more than, what? two minutes?”

Zuko nearly choked, his face flushing a deep, unmistakable red. “That’s— I—” He cleared his throat, straightening awkwardly as he avoided everyone’s eyes. “That’s not— we’re not—”

The princess, however, looked entirely unbothered.

In fact, she looked amused.

“Well,” she said lightly, smoothing a hand over her stomach as she glanced at him, “he does have a bit of a… lack of restraint.”

Zuko snapped his head toward her. “You’re not helping.”

Katara laughed, covering her mouth. “I mean, you can’t blame them. You’ve both been—” she hesitated, searching for a polite word before giving up, “—like that since the beginning.”

Toph grinned wider. “Please. ‘Like that’ is putting it nicely.”

“Toph,” Katara warned, though she was still smiling.

“What?” Toph shrugged. “I’m just saying—half the time, I didn’t even need my feet to know when they were in the same room. The tension alone was loud enough.”

The princess let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You’re all incredibly annoying.”

Zuko groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Can we please focus on the actual reason we’re here?”

“Oh, no, no,” Toph continued, clearly enjoying herself. “You deserve this. All those nights you two kept everyone awake—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” the princess cut in quickly, though a smile tugged at her lips. She glanced at Zuko, amused. “He can’t get any redder. He’s about to turn into a tomato.”

Zuko let out a quiet, embarrassed huff, but didn’t argue, instead shifting closer and settling against her side, seeking some sense of refuge.

She softened slightly at that, her expression gentler as she let him.

“Let’s just go get Sokka,” he muttered, still avoiding everyone’s gaze.

The princess had shrugged off her coat minutes into the trip. They weren’t even close to Aang yet, and the extra weight had her uncomfortably warm, a light sheen of sweat clinging to her skin. The shifting air currents around Appa did little to help.

Katara, however, had not left her alone once.

The questions came one after another, gentle but relentless, curiosity shining in her eyes.

“How far along are you?”

“Five months,” she answered, offering a tired but polite smile.

“What’s the gender?”

“No clue.”

“Any baby names lined up?”

“We’re trying for something that blends earth and fire,” she said, glancing briefly at Zuko, “but nothing’s stuck yet.”

Katara brightened. “That’s so sweet—”

“Are you going to have more?”

The princess didn’t even hesitate. “Have you met my husband?”

Katara blinked, then laughed, covering her mouth.

Zuko, meanwhile, coughed into his fist, his ears burning all over again.

Through it all, his hand never left her, resting protectively over her stomach, thumb brushing slow, absent circles as if grounding himself in her presence. Every so often, his grip would tighten slightly whenever Appa shifted, like he could somehow steady both her and the child at once.

“Careful,” he murmured under his breath at one point, guiding her subtly as the saddle dipped.

“I’m fine,” she replied, though she didn’t pull away from him.

By the time the icy waters and familiar structures of the Southern Water Tribe came into view, the air had grown colder, sharper against their skin. Snow dusted the ground below, and the distant figures of Water Tribe members began to gather, pointing up at Appa’s descending form.

They didn’t have to search long.

Sokka was already striding across the snow toward them, boots crunching loudly with each step, his grin widening the second he took them in.

“Well, well,” he called, arms spreading like he was welcoming honored guests. “Look who finally decided to show up. Took you two long enough.”

His gaze flicked between them, lingering, calculating, before it dropped.

Then paused.

“…Whoa.”

Zuko stiffened immediately. “Don’t.”

But Sokka was already circling them, slow and deliberate, like he was inspecting something fascinating. “No way. No way. You’re serious?”

The princess raised a brow, unimpressed. “Very.”

Sokka let out a low whistle, dragging a hand down his face before pointing straight at Zuko. “I mean, I knew you two had issues with personal space, but I didn’t think you’d go and make it this… I don't even know the word for it. You two are freaks."

Zuko groaned, already regretting coming. “Sokka.”

“What?” Sokka shrugged, smirk growing. “You expect me to ignore this? This isn't even groundbreaking it's just expected from you both knowing you. This is, this is what happens when you two get even five minutes alone, isn’t it?”

Toph let out a quiet snort.

Sokka leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it worse. “Actually, scratch that. Five minutes is probably generous.”

Zuko made a strangled noise. “Okay.”

Katara slapped a hand over her face. “Sokka—”

“No, no, I’m just connecting the dots,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “All those times you disappeared during meetings, all those ‘private discussions’ yeah, makes a lot more sense now.”

The princess tilted her head, completely unbothered. “You’re being very bold for someone standing this close to me.”

Sokka grinned. “I’m just impressed, honestly. You two had so much tension it was practically a natural disaster, and now—” he gestured vaguely toward her stomach, “—this is the aftermath. Surprised it took you this long."

Toph laughed outright at that.

Zuko looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Sokka wasn’t done.

“I mean seriously,” he added, folding his arms, “if this is what happens when the Fire Lord gets a little too… distracted, I’m shocked there’s not a second one already on the way.”

Zuko choked. “That’s enough.”

“Hey, I’m congratulating you!” Sokka shot back. “Just saying, next time, maybe let people know before you two go off and—”

“Sokka.”

“—expand the royal family.”

Katara shoved him lightly. “You’re unbelievable.”

“But not wrong,” he corrected smoothly.

The princess let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, he’s not entirely wrong.”

Zuko turned to her, betrayed. “You’re encouraging him.”

“We've been married for eleven months and I've been pregnant for five of them, you lack restraint Zuko” she stated bluntly, though her smile gave her away. He shook his head leaning close so only he could hear her. "Who suggested riding me in the throne ro-" "Okay hush now."

Sokka clapped his hands together once, satisfied. “Great. Now that we’ve established the Fire Lord has absolutely no self-control—”

“Sokka.”

“—can someone please tell me why Aang is dragging us to some random village?"

The teasing was warranted, deserved, even.

The Fire Nation had taken your father, your brother. Zuko’s redemption didn’t erase that. Not to you. He had hunted you, cornered you, forced you into survival more times than you could count. While the others learned to trust him, to laugh with him, to move on… you hadn’t. Not so easily.

So yeah, there had been tension.

A lot of it.

It just… hadn’t been resolved in a way anyone else approved of.

His lips brushed slowly along the inside of her thigh, unhurried, deliberate, testing, teasing. The touch alone was enough to pull a quiet, unwilling sound from her, her breath catching despite herself.

“Just do it already,” she muttered, more breath than voice, her fingers tightening against the sheets.

Zuko clicked his tongue softly, unfazed. Another kiss followed, closer this time, but still not quite where she wanted, where she needed.

“Not until you say please.”

Her head tipped back in frustration. “Why would I have to say please?” she shot back weakly. “You said you were atoning for everything your nation did. Consider this part of your apology.”

A quiet huff of amusement left him, warm against her skin. “I’ve been atoning for two months now,” he murmured, his voice low, almost thoughtful.

Another slow press of his lips, lingering.

“And yet,” he added, “every morning I wake up and you’ve already taken my portion of breakfast because, apparently, ‘murderers don’t deserve to eat.’”

She exhaled sharply, somewhere between a scoff and something softer. “Well, when the Fire Nation killed my family, I couldn’t afford breakfast—”

“I know.” His tone shifted immediately, the teasing giving way to something heavier, sincere. His hand stilled, grounding. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

There was a pause, the air between them tightening, thick with everything unsaid.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it,” he continued quietly. “For what I did… for what I stood for.”

His placed a long kiss to her core, a soft moan (against her will) escaped her lips.

“Let me try,” he said, voice gentler now. “Even if it’s not enough.”

“I’m glad you all could make it, this village needs our help with—” Aang began, pulling back from Katara mid-sentence.

His eyes flicked across the group.

Paused.

Then widened.

“…Are—did—?”

He leaned toward Katara, lowering his voice into what he clearly thought was a whisper. “Am I allowed to ask people if they’ve gained weight?”

Katara’s eyes widened. “No, Aang. We’ve been over this.”

Aang nodded quickly. “Right, right. No asking.”

“…They’re pregnant,” she added quietly.

Aang blinked.

Then looked back at them.

Then back at Katara.

“…Zuko’s pregnant too?”

Toph snorted.

Sokka immediately burst out laughing. “Yeah, yeah, Fire Lord had a lot to do with it actually.”

Zuko’s face flushed instantly. “That’s not—”

“I’m pregnant, Aang,” the princess cut in, voice flat.

“Oh!” Aang straightened immediately, relief flooding his face. “Oh, that makes way more sense.”

There was a beat.

“…Congratulations!” he added, a little too late but entirely sincere.

Then his expression shifted, concern creeping in.

“Wait, are you sure you should be here?” he asked, glancing between her and Zuko. “I mean, with everything going on… I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Zuko immediately nodded. “Exactly.”

She sighed.

“I’m pregnant, not made of glass,” she said, crossing her arms lightly. “I can still help.”

Toph smirked. “Told you.”

Katara smiled gently. “We’ll keep an eye on you. Just in case.”

Sokka grinned. “Yeah, someone has to make sure Zuko doesn’t give himself an aneurysm trying to watch after the princess.”

Zuko shot him a glare.

Aang hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I trust you. Just… be careful, alright?”

She gave a small, confident nod.

“Always.”

Aang clapped his hands together once, refocusing. “Right, so. The village has been dealing with a spirit. It’s been acting aggressively, and I think it’s tied to something in the mountain.”

The princess exhaled slowly. “…So you did drag us out here for a mountain.”

Aang winced. “Technically… yes.”

Zuko sighed. “Of course.”

Toph cracked her knuckles. “Good. I was getting bored.”

Sokka looked between them, grin already returning. “Alright, angry spirit, pregnant Fire-Earth Princess, and Zuko on edge. This should go great.”

She leaned slightly into Zuko’s side, her hand brushing his.

“Next time,” she murmured, “we ignore the letter and go to Ember Island."

He huffed softly. “…Agreed.”