Your eyes roll back down.

“Mhm.”

"And it was such a good question.”

You turn a page. "Really?”

“Yup.” He’s draped over the corner of your desk now, like gravity has wronged him, whining. “It was such a thoughtful… personal… deeply relevant… extremely genius level getting-to-know-you tier question that—”

You scowl. "—Satoru, enough. Just do your job."

It lands harder than expected. The sigh he lets out is deeply, theatrically offended. And when you glance up again, he’s sprawled over that same corner of your desk you made the mistake of clearing for him on day one because you’d thought, foolishly, that giving him a designated surface might contain him.

It had not.

Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.

Snowy white hair falls against his brow, sleeves rolled to his elbows; looking far too expensive and far too comfortable for someone whose official title is intern. His coffee is sweating beside your open planner — the one with a date next week circled in red: WEDDING, scrawled across the margin in your own handwriting. The condensation trails towards a stack of vendor invoices and—

…

Wait.

Are those the same vendor invoices you asked him to file yesterday?

Fucking great.

“Oh, c’monnn,” he grumbles, blinking at you over the rim of those absurdly expensive sunglasses he insists on wearing indoors. “One question. Just a tiiiiny one. It’s completely harmless. Humor me, yeah?”

You narrow your eyes.

“Satoru, you’ve been trying to ask one question for the last four months.”

“Yeah,” he says. “And you’ve been dodging it for four months. Imagine that.”

Technically… four months and four days. But who’s counting?

With an exhausted groan, your eyes fall shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. Noise drifts in from the hall — the elevator, the printer, a phone trilling somewhere nearby.  But when you look up again, it all seems to fall away.

He’s gone strangely still. The smug grin hasn’t disappeared, but it’s softened at the edges, hooked at one corner with his head tilted slightly. And those eyes…

Oh.

That’s — no. You’ve seen his eyes before. Obviously. Four months of them. But right now, with the morning light doing something cruel and unhelpful behind him, they catch in a way that makes you forget you were mid-thought. The kind of blue that doesn’t ask if you’re looking. It already knows.

Which means of course, you look away first. “Fine.” Your hand drops as you mutter. “One question. But if it’s stupid, I’m sending you back to HR.”

It’s not much of a threat. It’s his last day, after all, and for reasons you still don’t fully understand, Satoru has always seemed oddly immune to consequences — which, frankly, feels statistically improbable given the amount of shit he’s managed to pull in the few months of being here.

“One question?” his grin sharpens. You point your pen at him. “Don’t make me regret this.” Yet his pleased chuckle is already making you. “Awhh… look at you. Finally yielding.” His pen twirls between his fingers, nodding with false solemnity. “Okay. So, here’s the thing… throughout these four months working beside you, I’ve seen a lot—"

“—that’s not a question.” You deadpan.

But ignoring you, he reclines back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head.

“Liiiike… I’ve seen the exact face you make when Mei-Mei emails you,” he smirks. “Even noticed you work through lunch more than you should. And I’ve noticed that little line right here—” he gestures vaguely between his own brows “—every time the budget goes sideways.”

Lips parting, you blink.

…why is he so observant?!

For someone who acts like he doesn’t give a shit, he’s strangely attentive.

You clear your throat, huffing. “Okay… what’s your point?” Your hands straighten a stack of papers that doesn’t need straightening. “Is there a question in here somewhere, or are you just reciting my habits back to me for fun?”

His grin is far too pleased. “Relax. I’m getting there.” And leaning forward, his voice drops, like he’s unraveling a conspiracy. “I just find it interesting how you answer work calls before the second ring. Every damn day. Doesn’t matter who it is.” His head tilts with a smug grin. “But for whatever reason, for the past month, your personal phone’s been ringing off the hook, and you never pick up. Not once.”

Heat creeps up your neck. Not because he’s wrong — but because he’s right. And he said it like it was nothing. Like noticing the pattern of your avoidance was just something that happened to him between stamps.

Oh.

Way too observant.

Shit. He couldn't have settled on what's your favorite color!? Or, what superpower would you have!? No. Of course he had to go for the fucking jugular.

His eyes drop to the planner lying open beneath the invoices. The circled date: WEDDING. And his grin sharpens. “Ohoho… I get it now,” he whistles, leaning back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “What’d your fiancé do to screw up this bad? Is the wedding off?”

Your head jerks up. “F-Fiancé?!” And he rolls his eyes with a scoff, still grinning. “Knew it. God, he must be really in the doghouse. Or maybe he’s just clingy as hell to be calling that much.”

You blink.

Okay. Nevermind. He’s wrong. That is not even remotely what’s happening. The most committed relationship you’ve had is the one with your coffee machine. And yet… part of it feels almost cosmically cruel.

Because somehow, this is the second time in a month that someone had looked at the scattered pieces of your life and decided a man must be hiding inside them. Except the first time, you never even got the chance to correct it.

After all… how do you tell your mother she’s wrong?

Last month, you still answered her phone calls.

Not because you expected anything different. But because somewhere between the second ring and the third, there’s this gap — this stupid, paper-thin gap — where you still believe she might ask how you’re doing and actually wait for the answer.

Some habits taste like smoke. Some burn like liquor. But yours, unfortunately, had always looked a lot like hope.

Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.

“Oh—uh, hi mom!”

Your phone was wedged between your ear and shoulder while you stepped out of your car, juggling your purse and what was left of your sanity. You were already behind schedule, and your mother was calling — which meant the day had already made its intentions very clear.

“What’s up?” the door slammed shut with your hip. “I’m actually about to—”

“—Trish sent the venue photos,” she blurted, launching into a conversation like always.

Blinking, you shook the bitterness away. Striding toward the towering glass of Gojo Corporation. “That’s—yeah, that’s great,” you muttered, badge in hand as you pushed through the front doors. “But I’m actually heading into work right now? So—”

“—It’s such a beautiful venue,” she ignored you. “Very traditional, very grand. But you know the Zenin family—they never do anything small.” And as she sighed in awe, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

The rational part of your brain told you to let this go to voicemail. But the rational part of your brain has never once won this fight. Because…

Hope is a terrible habit you’ve never been able to kick.

"Mom, I'm sure it's lovely, really… but I'm kind of—um, excuse me…" you pivoted around a man in the bustling lobby with a sigh. “Sorry. I’m literally walking into the building right now? But maybe we can revisit this later and—"

"—have you booked your flight yet?"

Your mouth flattened.

Clearly, your half of this conversation is optional.

“No… not yet,” you mumbled, as patiently as you could manage, jabbing the up button harder than necessary. “It’s been a crazy ass week so I haven’t had a chance to, but—”

“—every week is a crazy week for you.” The huff she let out sounded almost offended by the inconvenience of your life. “Why can’t you just book it now while we’re talking? I mean, it literally takes five minutes.”

A miracle, really, that your blood pressure isn’t a medical emergency.

Every week is a crazy week?

Yeah. No shit.

Two managers resigned last quarter. Another got escorted out by security. And their work didn’t disappear. No. It landed on your desk. Because that’s how it goes. That’s how it’s always gone. Group projects. Internships. End-of-quarter disasters no one else wanted to touch. If something needed fixing, it found its way to you.

You’re the one people relied on.

Just… never the one people chose.

“Mother. I’m at work,” you said, stepping into the elevator as the doors slid open, dropping your voice as you stabbed at floor fifteen. “Look—I’m about to walk into an eight a.m. meeting. But I’ll book it tonight, promise.”

“…eight a.m.?” she repeated slowly, before letting out a small, unbothered laugh. “Oh! Right. It’s eight p.m. here. Silly me. I keep forgetting.”

…

Keep forgetting?

She keeps forgetting that she’s ten thousand miles away? Forgetting that twenty years ago she abandoned you in another country to live abroad in Japan—handing you to your grandparents like a detail she'd get back to later?

How convenient that she forgot that.

The elevator slid shut, and you watched the numbers tick upward. “Um. Yeah…” you managed, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice. “Anyways. I’ll book it tonight. After work. Okay?”

"Okay, okay. Sure. Sounds good. But are you bringing anyone?”

Squeezing the strap of your bag, you swallowed the lump in your throat. This again? The last thing you needed was to walk into your shitty eight a.m. meeting looking emotional.

No thanks.

“I… uh…” you cleared your throat. “I um—actually—haven’t decided yet. But anyways, I gotta go, so—”

“Waitwatiwait. Haven’t decided? Does that mean… you actually found someone?!”

Her voice pitched up so fast it almost startled you, and your mouth dropped so low it could’ve hit floor one.

Shit.

“I-I—I didn’t say—"

“—oh, thank God. This is incredible!!” she squealed. “We’ve been so worried. I mean—Trish is younger than you and she figured it out,” her tongue clicked. “People have been asking questions, you know. Your aunt Sara keeps bringing it up every time I see her and—”

“—Mom, I—"

“—It’s about time,” The laugh she let out was relieved, like a problem in her life had finally begun resolving itself. “You can’t keep putting love on hold forever, because men aren’t going to wait around forever. You’re already twenty-six—not getting any younger, dear.”

Love?!

Who has time for that?

And why the fuck is twenty-six the age a woman expires?!

“What’s his name?” she pressed, practically beaming through the phone. “What does he do? Is he from there, or—oh, is he Japanese? Your father would love that, he always said—”

And she was off.

Spinning an entire man out of thin air. An entire future, really. Building him in real time from a tiny slip up you had because you were too tired and cornered and desperate enough to answer the phone in the first place. And you stood there, letting her. Because interrupting her has never once worked in the history of your life.

“—actually, never mind,” she chirped a moment later, as if she was being considerate now. “You have work. I’ll call tomorrow and you can tell me everything, yes? Okay, bye-bye honey—”

Click!

And just like that, the elevator went quiet. You were left staring at your reflection in the metal doors, phone pressed to your ear, listening to the silence where your mother’s voice had been.

‘We’ve been so worried.’

…

If they were so worried… why had you spent most of your life learning to take care of yourself? And yet, the second there might be a man, suddenly you’re worth getting excited about?

Funny how that works.

Scoffing, you lowered the phone, shoving it into your bag just as the elevator chimed open. Itadori Yuji’s head snapped up behind the reception desk.

“Morning, boss,” he waved, radiating sunshine as you walked towards the conference room. “Kento’s asking if you’re still good for the budget review at eight… or if I should just tell him to panic.”

Your smile softened, burying the sting. “Yes… I’ll be right there.” And as you stepped through the polished glass doors, you played the role you’d always played.

The reliable one. Twenty-six years old, with two master’s degrees, a career at one of the most competitive corporations in the world, and a team of seven that would quietly fall apart without you.

But…

None of that glitters quite like a diamond ring, does it?

“Oi,” Satoru frowns. “You’re makin’ that face again.”

“Huh?”

Blinking out of your spiral, your eyes trace back to the man across from you. His chin is resting in his palm, those impossibly blue eyes fixed on you with a quiet stillness that makes something in your chest trip over itself — like a lock turning in a door you didn’t know was closed.

“Oh.” You clear your throat, forcing the pen back into motion. “…what face?”

“The one you make when something’s wrong,” he says quietly, gaze unmoving. “When you’re upset and trying to act like you’re not.”

For a second — one terrible, unguarded second — you don’t have a single thing to hide behind. It’s just him, looking at you like your well-being is something he’s been keeping track of in a column you didn’t even know existed.

But then the sarcasm kicks in, right on time. "Wow," you say, forcing your hands back to the papers in front of you. "So… now you read faces?"

“Mm... nah. Just yours, sweetheart.”

And that grin — god, that fucking grin — hooks at one corner like he knows exactly what just detonated inside your chest. You don’t acknowledge it. Acknowledging things have consequences, and consequences with this man are not something you can afford.

"…that’s highly inappropriate," you mutter, shoving it down. "Let’s maybe redirect some of that insight toward the invoices, yeah?"

“Sorry, sorry.” He leans back, hands up like he’s the picture of innocence. “Wouldn’t wanna start shit with your dear future husband.” His grin goes sharp as he twirls his sunglasses between two fingers. “Though, wow. Tough look for him. Whatever he did, he clearly fucked up bad.”

Why does he sound… bitter?

No. You must be imagining it. This is Satoru. Satoru, who treats everything like a joke until proven otherwise. Satoru, who doesn’t care enough about anything to sound bitter over a man who may or may not exist.

You scoff. "You’re making some wildly stupid assumptions right now…"

He perks up at that. "Oh?" With his grin hooking higher, almost hopeful. "Wait. So, there’s no fiancé, then?"

Your lips purse.

What does he care? He’s not your mother.

“I wish you’d be this interested in your actual job,” you sigh, arms crossing. “Those invoices have been sitting there all week.”

“Uh-huh.” He tips his head. “And yet somehow, I noticed you still didn’t answer me.”

You frown.

What the fuck are you supposed to say!?

Oh. Um. Actually, Satoru, there is no fiancé. That’s the problem, actually! My mother invented him the other morning and I haven't worked up the nerve to call her back.

Yeah. No. You'd rather die at this desk.

“Maybe because it’s none of your business.”

“But I—”

“Drop it.”

He stares at you for a beat, then he flops back in the chair with a dramatic huff, long legs kicking out in front of him, mouth dragging into a sulky pout.

“Well, damn,” he grumbles, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, rolling his eyes. “No wonder you’re single if this is how you shut people down…”

The second the words leave his mouth, he blinks. His gaze flicks up to yours like he hears it too late — like he realizes, all at once, how shitty that sounded.And it only feels worse the moment he sees your face.

God.

Of all the places to hit.

“Oho… wow. Okay. This?” you say with a thin, self-deprecating laugh, chair scraping as you shove back from your seat. “Yeah. This is exactly why I shouldn’t have let you ask, Satoru.” You reach for your planner, your purse, anything to do with your hands besides let them shake.

He straightens, watching you scramble. “Whoa. Wait. I—"

“—because you don’t know when to stop!” The words come out louder than you mean, blinking at the sting behind your eyes. “You just keep pushing and pushing and pushing until you get what you want. Well good. I hope you’re happy.”

Before you can turn away, he’s on his feet. “Wait—” And the moment his hand catches yours, you freeze, breath snagging.

His voice is quieter now. His grip is firm yet gentle, and the air between you shifts, while something warm and uneasy twists low in your chest. The kind of feeling that makes you want to lean in and run in the same breath.

Though your eyes stay down. “Satoru… let go.”

“I didn’t…” he starts, then stops, gaze flicking to where his fingers still circle your wrist — before climbing back to your face, slower this time. “I’m… sorry. I just—” His mouth tightens. “I see how hard you work, okay? I see it. And every time that phone rings, you get this look on your face like it’s already ruined your day before you even touch it. And…” His brows pinch. “Fuck. I dunno why, but it pisses me off!”

Your gaze hesitantly drags to his, and the look in his eyes is softer than they have any right to be — all that blue, stripped of its usual sharpness, turned careful. Like he’s stepping toward something breakable and knows it. Like… if he asked once more, something in you might actually give.

“Satoru…” your breath hitches. “I-I—"

“Oh, finally.”

Shoko’s voice trails in, and your head snaps up so fast your neck almost goes with it. She’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, coffee in hand — looking like a woman who arrived exactly on time for something she's been expecting all week.

Her gaze flicks down to where he’s holding you, and the corner of her mouth twitches.

"Sooo… not to interrupt whatever this is," she says, taking a sip, "but Kento's one eye-twitch away from a medical event. He needs you to sign off on the variance line before he starts reconciling his own will and—"

You're already jerking your hand back. "Yup—coming!" And as you step away, heat floods your face, but you don't look back. Not once. Not even when you feel him still standing there, watching you go.

Because looking back would mean acknowledging that something just shifted. And you are not — not — doing that today.

Unlike those invoices, perhaps some things are better left… unfinished.

You’re gone in a blur of heels, nerves, and professional self-preservation, leaving Shoko trailing behind and Satoru staring at the empty doorway like maybe the conversation might wander back through it.

It doesn’t.

And it’s not long before his mouth is pulling into a slow, petulant pout—just before he flops back in the chair with all the elegance of a man personally betrayed by the universe.

Un-fucking-believable.

He’d almost had you! After four months and four days of being stonewalled, redirected, and professionally shut down, you’d finally looked like you might give him something. A crack. A sliver. And then Kento had to ruin it with his stupid reconciliation sheet, his stupid earnest face, and his stupidly impeccable timing.

…

He could fire Kento.

Should he fire Kento?

As tempting as that thought is, Satoru settles for glaring at the empty doorway a second longer before dragging a hand down his face and raking it back through his hair. There’s no point. This performance will end soon. Because by this time tomorrow, he’ll be on a flight back to Tokyo. Where he can resume the slow, agonizing process of preparing to inherit a company he didn't actually give a shit about.

'Grow up, Satoru.'

'Apply yourself, Satoru.'

'You have no idea what it takes to run something like this, Satoru.'

Right. Because apparently, the heir to a multinational corporation needed to learn humility. Alphabetize files. Sit in a cubicle. Fetch coffee like some goddamn spreadsheet slut with a trust fund and nowhere to put it.

Four years of business school, two years shadowing his father; and yet, this is what they had for him?!

He scoffs. And when his gaze drops to the wreckage of your desk, he’s pulling the stack of vendor invoices toward him with a sigh that sounds put-upon even to his own ears. You’ve been nagging him about filing them for the better part of the week and… the least he can do is clear one thing before he goes.

The stamp thuds against the first page. Then the next. Then the next. And with muscle memory taking over, his face goes blank in the way it always does when boredom finally wins. It’s mindless shit. Still, he’s used to it. So naturally, when the phone on your desk buzzes, he doesn’t think twice; snatching it up, tucking it between his ear and shoulder as he reaches for the next invoice.

It’s probably another budget nuisance. Or Mei. Or one of the other thousand little crises that seem magnetically drawn to your extension.

“Yo,” another stamp echoes. “Satoru speaking.”

There’s a sharp inhale. “…who?”

His brow lifts. “Uh… Satoru?” Another thud of ink slams against the paper and he huffs, annoyed. “What do y’need?”

The line goes quiet for a beat too long. Before the woman on the other end finally murmurs, “Satoru…” Sighing in awe. “What a lovely name. Is that Japanese?”

"Uh… yeah?” he snorts, flipping to the next page. “I mean. Last I checked.”

“Mm… I thought so!” She giggles. And her voice pitches like she's just unwrapped a present she didn't know she was getting. “So… Satoru. Why exactly are you the one answering her phone, hm?”

…

Why the hell does this woman sound so invested? And why is she asking questions that should be obvious?

Frowning down at the invoice, he stamps it harder.

“Because it rang?” He says it like it’s obvious. “And uh—sorry, but. Maybe because I’ve been with her for months, so… why the hell wouldn’t I?”

"Months?!” A soft gasp crackles, far too delighted. “You've—you've been with her for months?!"

"Mmm… four months and four days, technically."

He’s been her intern for that long.

That’s the question, right?

"—technically?!" she squeals, like the word personally seduced her. "Ohmygoodness—oh, this is perfect. Four months and four days—that is so specific.”

He blinks. But she doesn’t give him time to process.

“Look at you Mr. Devoted. Keeping track. I was starting to worry she’d never find someone like you. Every time I asked it's like pulling teeth. But I knew there had to be someone. I told her father—I said, there is a man, I can feel it.”

Pausing mid-stamp, the words slowly begin to catch up. Satoru straightens.

"…sorry. Who is thi—"

“—everyone is so excited to meet you at Trish’s wedding. I already reserved your seat and—"

Her voice keeps going… and going… and going. He pulls the phone away slowly as her voice echoes on the receiver, staring down at the phone in hand to see:

📞 Mom

Oh.

Oh, shit.

This is not your work phone. Your work phone is currently sitting at its dock twelve inches to his left. And it dawns on him that he accidentally just spent the last sixty seconds answering your personal phone like an absolute jackass and—

"Uh…” he backpedals. “Wait. I—"

"I told Sara, I said, we have to meet him and—”

"Stop. I-I really think—"

“—Satoru, what are you doing?’

His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, mouth dropping as he sees you standing at the doorway, eyes wide in horror.

Oh, fuck.

“Who is on the other end of that phone,” you hiss.

He winces, pulling the phone from his ear like it’s toxic — and you’re snatching it right out of his hand. He lets you have it without a fight, sinking back into the chair like he’s trying to physically dissociate from the situation he’s just created while you press the phone to your ear.

“And I mean…” she rambles. “I certainly was never one to wait around at twenty-six, believe me. But—"

"Mom."

"Oh! Honey!” She gasps. “Oh, my goodness, hi—I was just having the loveliest chat with—"

"I'm at work. Gotta go."

"—okay! I can't wait to meet Satoru, he—"

Click!

The phone sits in your hand like evidence.

And Satoru — to his credit — has the decency to look like a man standing in the blast radius of his own stupidity. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Like he’s rehearsing an apology in a language he hasn’t learned yet.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

And somewhere ten thousand miles away, your mother is already calling your aunt Sara.

“Sooo… funny story…”

“—what did you do?!”

Satoru flinched, and now, the tears were already rolling down your cheeks — hot, fast, completely unauthorized. Not the kind you could disguise as allergies or blame on the air conditioning. No. The ugly kind.

Great. Fucking great.

You were standing in the middle of your own office, in the building where you work, crying in front of your intern. And Satoru felt the weight of it all at once. In the last four months, he had seen you in every flavor of workplace misery there was. Pissed off, stressed out, one spreadsheet away from actual murder.

But cry?

Never.

And this had his fingerprints all over it.

"Shit," he breathed, panic flashing across his face. "I—fuck. Okay. Please don't—I can fix this. I can—"

"Fix this?" A splintered laugh ripped out of you, and you hated how thin it was. "Fix what, Satoru? You just confirmed a boyfriend to my mother, a boyfriend that doesn't exist—and she is, at this very moment, probably already—"

Another break in your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your hand to your forehead hard like you could hold the tears in by sheer force. But it only made it worse, because now you could feel the wetness on your own face, the heat of it under your palm, and the mortification landed like a second wave.

God. How fucking humiliating.

"Hey, hey—it's okay,” his voice softened. “We'll just… call her back. Right? Tell her it was a misunderstanding. Easy."

“Easy?” you scoffed, the word coming out strangled. “Y-You don’t understand my mother, Satoru,” you managed, voice gone thin as thread. God, you sounded like a child. “If she thinks something is true, then it’s true. That’s it. That’s—there’s no correcting her, there’s no walking it back, she’s already told my aunt Sara by now and Sara’s told Trish and—oh, fuck—”

Another sob tumbled out, and your fingers dug harder into your temple.

God. Stop it.

Stop it stop it stop it.

Think.

Think logically. You're good at this. You solve problems for a living.

But every time you tried to grab onto a thought, it slipped — replaced by the echo of your mother's voice, high and delighted. The happiest she'd sounded talking to you in years. Maybe ever.

…what look will she give you when you show up alone?

"I can’t," you whispered, and the word came out waterlogged. "I-I'm supposed to get on a plane to Japan in a week and—do what? Tell them there's no one? Tell them I'm still—"

Single.

The word sat in your mouth like a stone. You didn’t realize you’d gone silent until the silence itself started ringing — your sniffling, the hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled life of the office continuing beyond the door like yours wasn’t actively coming apart at the seams.

And through all of it, you could feel Satoru looking at you. His stillness; holding you with an expression you'd never seen on him before and couldn't categorize if you tried.

"Um…” he looked down, scratching the back of his neck. “Soooo... the wedding's in Japan?"

You blinked. “What?” And as you wiped your face with the back of your hand, his gazed tentatively flicked back up. “The wedding…” he repeated, voice careful. “It’s in Japan?”

"Yes." Your brow furrowed, not understanding. "Why?"

He didn't answer right away. Just looked down at the floor for a second, jaw shifting, like he was turning something over in his head — something he hadn't fully assembled yet but could already feel the shape of.

"Huh… okay."

Okay what?

You watched his expression change in real time — from guilt to calculation to something else. "Right then!" He said, clapping his hands once, bright and sudden. "No biggie. I'll just go with you."

No biggie?

Your mouth dropped.

That wasn’t even an option, was it?

…is he crazy?

“You’re kidding,” your laugh was awkward and breathless. His eyes rolled with a smug grin. “Sweetheart, c’mon,” and he was gesturing between the two of you like the answer was sitting there in plain sight and you were the only person in the room committed to not seeing it. "Your family thinks you're bringing someone? Cool." A hand pressed to his chest with theatrical solemnity. "I'm someone."

You stared at him. Genuinely stared.

Oh. He wasn’t kidding.

Yup. He’s crazy.

"You are not 'someone,' Satoru. You are my intern."

“Yeah. For like… another six hours?"

He checked his watch with a shrug, and your lips flattened.

"…that is not the point."

“Mm… feels a little like the point."

He smirked, but it faded faster than usual, dimming at the edges as his blue eyes hesitated on yours. Something shifted in his posture; the performance pulling back, like a tide going out. "Um… look…" He pushed off the desk, stepping closer. "It’s really no hassle." He said, hands sliding into his pockets. "I already have a flight scheduled. My family's in Tokyo. And I was going back after this internship anyway, so… this just moves my timeline back a little."

He was shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t agreeing to fly across the world with you and walk straight into the disaster that was your family.

…

His family’s in Japan too?

You barely knew anything about him. He kept his life sealed off with the same practiced deflection you kept yours — jokes in place of answers, charm in place of honesty. You never bothered to ask, because asking meant caring and that was a door you never intended to walk through with anyone.

But…

"Just… let me come with you. I’ll be your boyfriend for the weekend. For the wedding. For… whatever you need,” he said. And this time, when he stepped closer, there was no grin to hide behind. "I can be useful. I caused this. So… let me fix it."

Heat creeped up your neck, and you scoffed, weakly.

"Okay… but you can't fix my mother."

"No…” he murmured, tilting his head. His hand came up and brushed a tear trailing down your cheek with a careful gentleness. “But… I can make sure you don't have to walk in there alone?"

Your breath hitched, and when your eyes finally lifted, the morning light was being cruel again — catching in that impossible blue and turning it soft. Like stained glass dipped in sunlight. Like something holy made dangerous by the simple fact that it was looking straight at you.

“Mhn. So, do I get the job, boss lady? Because that look you’re giving me…” a slow smirk curls up the corner of his mouth. “Very encouraging for my boyfriend résumé, by the way. Might get addicted to it and wanna make it a full-time gig.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, looking away too fast to be convincing.“That was not a look. I was just—” You grimace. “…never mind.”

He’s chuckling as you brush past him. And his words are what scared you the most. Which was bad. Very, very bad. Because your mother was one problem. Japan was another. But Satoru looking at you like that?

Shit…

That felt like the kind of complication that didn’t stay neatly contained. And you knew better than anyone. Nothing about Satoru had ever suggested he could be contained.

a/n: hehe. this has been fun to work on! i am excited to share the next part. clearly i love these fake dating/fake marriage tropes aha 🙂‍↕️ bc this is like... what—my third time doing it? soooo i tried to change things up and make it feel less standard/generic :) but anyways, like i said pt 2 will be out in a week, pls lmk if you wanna be tagged 💖

Hell, you had even gained a thing for Sokka for a while, and not once had you ever thought of Aang as a romantic interest, despite his many 'advances'.

You saw it then, in the way he would seek you out, always hanging around you, asking for your advice on waterbending, even though Katara was right there, the one person who actually knew combat waterbending, unlike you, who could only heal.

So you did your best to push him toward Katara, trying to free yourself from the burden of his feelings.

It had worked.

And how you regretted it.

Because the man who stood before you now, grinning ear to ear at the sight of your arrival, was someone you no longer recognized.

After the war had ended, you returned home to the Northern Water Tribe, where you were praised for your contributions in the war.

Which is why you had taken to teaching the younger female generations the beauty of water, passing down your learnings from Katara and Aang.

The elders had not been too pleased at your notion, but they didn't stop you either, reminding themselves of what Katara had changed within the misogynistic hierarchy of the tribe.

You spent those years teaching, learning, advising, not having much contact with your friends other than the letters you all exchanged.

Katara and Sokka would visit now and then, but the Southern Water Tribe girl stopped once her free time was redirected to developing Republic City. Sokka continued to visit with Suki, mostly to pay respect to a certain moon spirit.

You weren't in touch with Zuko, never having gotten too close with him. And Aang would send you letters more often than you had expected. But even those reduced over the years, only showing up on birthdays.

So now, nine years later, you finally decided to give a visit when you received an invitation from Aang, planning a reunion on the occasion that Republic City was an year old and flourishing.

You had agreed, because you wished to see your only actual friend you had made on your journey.

Toph.

The blind bandit had formed an unusual bond with you, mostly built around constant jokes and taunts towards the rest of the group.

So when you saw Toph upon arriving, you hadn't expected Aang to be standing there beside her with the others, towering over everyone else in his newly acquired form.

You couldn't even think straight as Aang and Katara led everyone to the inn all of you could stay in during your time there. After settling your stuff into your rooms, Aang had taken to showing all of you around.

You heard him for everything he had to say, paying more attention to him than you ever had. Your eyes hadn't left him once, watching him light up every time he spoke, waving his hands around animatedly towards all directions.

Fuck. His hands.

Asking what you would do with them was a stupid question, because what wouldn't you do?

You'd have them pressed to your tits all the time. Those warm hands that have mastered every element to the point of second nature, swirling wind, bending the earth, doing everything imaginable with ease.

How trained he would be with those hands. Maybe he would put his learnings to good use on your pussy, mimicking the elegant motion of his fingers over your clit as he kept you stuffed to the hilt, hopefully using his other hand to clamp your mouth shut.

Maybe he'd even let you take his fingers in your mouth, sucking and drooling around them to divert your attention from the fullness of his cock.

Your thoughts didn't let up even as night fell, by which you had completely soaked through the fabric of your underwear. The group had split up to retire for the night, holding a proper get together party at Katara's home the next evening.

The time before the party had been given to everyone for sight seeing, but you could barely make it out of bed, the previous night spent restless as a certain airbender plagued your mind, making your reach for your pussy for most of it.

What's worse is that you had to keep your moans to the lowest, too scared that Toph might sense you out from wherever her room was in the inn.

You never truly understood the extent of her power, you didn't even know if something like this would even be possible for Toph to sense, but you sure as hell didn't want to take any chances.

Before the get together, you had sat in front of the mirror to gather your thoughts. You had chosen to wear a henley much like what Toph had worn the day before, while beneath it you had put on a rather bold choice.

You had first seen Suki wear a miniskirt during her visit with Sokka at the Northern Water Tribe. Her choice of clothing was something you had questioned, trying to understand why she would wear swimwear while visiting such a cold place.

She had only sighed, explaining to you the growing trends of fashion in the newly developing city.

On her next visit, she had brought you your own.

You never wore it before, given the weather, but you had packed it, figuring the warmer weather of the city would make the skirt more bearable.

Arriving at Katara's home was hell, because not only had Aang opened the door on your arrival, he was bare from the waist up as he did so.

The blood had rushed straight to your cunt, trying not to blatantly look at his abdomen, or the hard planes of his chest.

"Wow, did your clothes run away?" You joked, craning your neck to look him in the eyes, not daring to avert your gaze elsewhere.

"I spilled my drink on it." Aang huffs, pouting a little which only made things worse on your end, wanting to bite his cheeks that puffed out a little.

"You didn't think to Air bend and dry it?" You ask, trying to remain composed even as your breath hitched, walking through the door as you stood close to him.

"That doesn't remove wine stains. Katara threw it in the wash." He answered, walking beside you as he led you to the stairs.

"You're drinking?" Your voice came out shocked.

"I was going to, but then Sokka bumped into me." He sulks yet again.

"I thought...Air Nomads do not drink."

"Well...I don't. But everyone has been asking me to try it once, so I agreed to do it today."

"Looks like I came on time." You tease, trying to meets his eyes but failing when he gave you the cutest smile ever.

You both had made your way upstairs, and you were very aware of just how short your skirt was. You wondered if Aang had looked at your ass as you walked in front of him, or had he diverted his gaze out of respect.

Either option had you pressing your thighs together, not daring to turn your head to see where his eyes lingered.

"Hey! You wore it!" Suki's voice had greeted you the moment you entered the room beside Aang.

She was talking about your skirt.

"Yeah. I have no where else to wear this." You had answered with a smile, looking a the spacious room, a low table in the center with food already set on it.

"It looks great!" Katara compliments you, to which you smile.

"Thanks!"

"Yeah, cute outfit!" Aang chimed in from behind you, making you turn to face him.

"...Thanks Aang." You had tried to keep it in, but your heart had practically leapt out of your chest as his voice.

"You're late!" Toph greeted you in her own manner, making you turn back around and roll your eyes at her.

"Oh! I am so sorry, ma'am."

"You just rolled your eyes, didn't you?" She commented, taking a chug of whatever was in her cup.

"Yep. Proudly too." You retorted with a grin walking towards the group.

Toph had taken one of the shorter ends of the table, sprawling comfortably in her spot while Suki, Sokka, and Katara settled along one of the longer sides. 

Across from them sat Zuko with an empty place beside him, which you claimed easily, folding your legs beneath you once you sat down.

And a part of you had hoped Aang would occupy the space that had been left empty on your other side, but you should have known better as you watched him take the opposing end of where Toph sat...right beside Katara.

Well, Zuko was technically also seated beside him, but it barely mattered when you watched Katara subtly close the distance between herself and Aang.

No one would have noticed it unless they had been observing closely.

Which you were.

You watched the two as the conversations picked up again around you, watching how Aang too scooched a little closer to Katara each time she said something.

It made you nauseous.

You had done this. You had practically thrown him into her arms all those years ago, and the karma of it had come to bite you in the ass.

It only made things worse that all you could think about in that situation was how gorgeous his abs were.

You could already imagine how nice they would feel against your cunt, rubbing mindlessly on them as those sinful hands of his would keep you pressed to him, grabbing the flesh of your hips to move you even faster, letting you cum on his skin. 

You watched as Aang finally took his first sip of whatever alcohol Sokka had poured for him, observing as he gagged at the taste of it, leading him to have a coughing fit.

While the others chuckled at his antics, Katara reached over to rub slow circles against his back, trying to ease him through the coughing fit.

It made you sick.

The sight of her hands against his bare skin. The ease with which he leaned into her touch, comfortable enough to accept it without thought.

And it only got worse when he turned slightly toward her while thanking her softly.

"Are you alright, Aang?" you asked, hoping to interrupt whatever quiet little moment had begun forming between them.

Aang looked over at you immediately, a sheepish smile pulling onto his face.

"Y-yeah. Just need a m-minute," he managed, his voice still rough from coughing as he tried to steady his breathing.

You simply nodded, masking your satisfaction beneath a look of concern when Aang motioned for Katara to stop, quietly insisting he was alright now. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away and settled back into her place beside him.

It was around 10 minutes later when the effects of whatever amount of alcohol had managed to bypass Aang's throat had started to take effect.

A warm flush spread slowly across his skin, staining not only his cheeks but trailing down the length of his neck and across his chest in soft patches of pink.

You tried not to stare at him.

Without the excuse of him talking animatedly or moving around the room, admiring him so openly would have been far too obvious.

But, the sight of his lightweight body unable to withstand a shot of alcohol had you squirming in your seat, knowing your pussy was actively soaking your panties as the conversations continued. 

Aang had long since stopped participating in the conversation, now hunched over the table with his face buried into his folded arms while the others continued talking around him. 

Every few minutes, Zuko would slide another glass of water toward him, insisting it would help flush the alcohol out of his system.

Aang only mumbled that he was fine, though his words slurred slightly when he complained that he had not expected to feel so "floosy" after a single sip.

You on the other hand, were burning. Your pussy was desperately clenching around nothing, dripping on the flimsy fabric, as you now regretted wearing the skirt.

Aang's drowsy posture had given you something entirely new to admire. The broad slope of his shoulders, the defined muscles shifting faintly beneath his skin whenever he adjusted against the table, the elegant curve of his back disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.

It took everything in you not to stare openly.

Your thoughts drifted embarrassingly fast, fixating on the sight of his back and imagining what it would feel like beneath your hands.

You fantasized how desperately your nails would claw at his back as he pushed his cock into you, fucking your fervently.

Or maybe he'd let you rest your legs over his shoulders as he ate you out, driving his tongue into you which will make your heels dig into his back, only pushing him closer. 

Maybe he would even make you squirt? He was quiet talented at waterbe—

Your thoughts came to an abrupt halt the moment Aang pushed himself upright, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom before slowly making his way out of the room.

You lifted your wine glass toward your lips, eyes instinctively following him until he disappeared down the hallway, turning left once he stepped out.

Only then did you take another sip, absentmindedly humming in agreement to whatever Toph had just said.

Your attention was divided between the room and Aang. And the heat between your thighs had become unbearable to the point you had to take care of it. 

A few minutes later, you finished the last of your wine and set the empty glass aside before excusing yourself as well, adjusting your skirt once you rose to your feet.

You followed the same path Aang had taken earlier, slower with your steps this time, though upon reaching the hallway you quickly realized the restroom was empty.

You only shrugged to yourself before slipping inside anyway, locking the door behind you and closing the seat before sitting down, hiking your skirt up around your waist.

You spread your legs wide enough to let your hand slip inside, sliding your panties to the side to bury two fingers deep.

You were so slick and hot, it was almost pathetic. 

Your fingers did absolutely nothing in comparison to the fantasies you'd built of Aang doing this to you.

Leaning back, you began pumping your fingers, but the ridiculous amount of wetness made it difficult to find any real friction against your pussy. 

It was frustrating, yet amusing; you had drenched yourself to the extent that you could barely feel your own fingers rubbing against you.

Nonetheless, the need to have your cunt filled was somewhat satisfied, letting your fingers curl pathetically against the spot you probed for a quick, desperate orgasm.

The pressure built relentlessly, and with it, your voice. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress the sounds, but the rising heat was too much; a few desperate whimpers slipped past your teeth despite your best efforts.

It was only when you heard two giggling whispers close by that you froze. 

You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes widening in a flash of panic as you forced your body to go still.

Judging by the voice, one of them was definitely Suki.

Had she and Sokka slipped away for some privacy?

You sat up straighter immediately, halting every movement as you listened more carefully.

"Oh come on! Isn't it time already? You've liked each other longer than Sokka and I have even been together."

"That doesn't mean we're compatible! You've seen him...he's always busy being the Avatar..."

Katara.

You nearly stopped breathing.

Carefully, you stood up and adjusted your skirt, suddenly far more aware of every tiny sound you made while crossing the bathroom floor. Your hand remained clamped tightly over your mouth as you moved closer to the door, pressing your ear lightly against the wood to hear them better.

"So? He's never going to stop being the Avatar! Does that mean you'll wait until he's on his deathbed?"

"No...I just don't want to become a burden. He already has so many responsibilities, I don't want to add myself to them."

"Katara! You've kissed, for Spirits' sake! And...didn't you have that one night..."

"Shh! Suki, Aang is still out here..."

"Sorry," Suki whispered, lowering her voice even further. "But didn't you?"

You could hear Katara hesitate before she answered.

"Yes...we did do that..."

You froze.

Nausea twisted violently in your stomach at the thought of Katara and Aang together like that, tangled together somewhere inside this very house.

"Then why aren't you two together yet? Did he just use you? Because I can absolutely beat some sense into him."

"No! Spirits, no." Katara sounded horrified by the suggestion. 

"It's my fault. I asked him not to talk about it again...to just put it behind us."

"Why?!"

"I panicked!" she admitted. 

"I really do love Aang, but afterward I just...felt cheap. I couldn't believe we had done something like that before even talking about our feelings properly."

Slowly, you pulled away from the door.

Your hand slipped from your mouth while something sharp and terrible settled into place inside your mind all at once, so sudden it almost felt divine.

That was it.

Your chance.

"What did Aang say?" Suki asked after a moment.

"He agreed," Katara murmured. "Although...now that I think about it, he did seem a little hurt by it."

"Oh Katara, I am so mad at you—"

"Shh!" Katara cut her off quickly. "We've already been gone too long, and we still need to pick up the food from the kitchen." 

Katara quickly hushed her again, dragging Suki away before her voice could rise any further.

Their conversation had given you everything you needed to know.

It seemed you had been terribly wrong about whatever existed between them.

They did not belong to each other, and that meant you could still do something about it.

You waited another few minutes before leaving the bathroom, taking the time to clean yourself up while listening carefully for the sound of their footsteps returning from the kitchen. 

Only once the hallway had gone quiet again did you finally unlock the door and slip outside.

You did not particularly care that your little trip to the bathroom had left you unsatisfied.

Because in the end, it had not been pointless.

As long as there was still a chance for you to have Aang, you could live with the ache between your thighs.

You quietly made your way back toward the room where everyone had gathered, relieved to find them distracted enough to not notice you lingering briefly behind the doorframe.

You only peeked inside long enough to check whether Aang had returned.

He hadn't.

The realization made a smile threaten at the corners of your mouth.

This was your only opportunity.

So you slipped away again, quieter this time, searching through the massive house floor by floor while the sounds of laughter and conversation faded further beneath you.

Only upon reaching the topmost level did you finally slow.

Just before stepping fully into the room, your attention caught on the open balcony doors inside it.

There he was.

Your expression brightened instantly at finally finding him, eyes fixed on the sight of Aang leaning against the railing alone, letting the cold night air wash over him while the city lights flickered below.

Just as you were about to take a step forward—

"Just what are you plotting?" 

Toph's voice came through, although quiet, held her usual fierceness.

You whipped around immediately, barely stopping the startled noise threatening to leave you before finally spotting the blind girl standing further down the hallway.

"Toph!" You hissed under your breath, pressing a hand against your chest before realizing what she had actually asked.

"I...was just making sure Aang was alright..." you answered quickly, which technically was not a lie, hoping it was bypass Toph's instincts.

Toph snorted.

"Yeah. Sure you were. Because you've always cared about him so much."

"Of course I do. He's my friend."

"Exactly," she drawled. "Your friend. Come on, at least try sounding convincing."

"I am not lying."

"Please." Toph folded her arms. 

"I may be blind, but even I can sense your desperation from across the house. 'Cute outfit!' 'Thanks, Aanggg.'" 

She mockingly pitched her voice higher during the imitation. "You were practically squealing."

Heat rushed straight to your face despite your irritation.

"And following after him?" She continued mercilessly. "Could you make it any more obvious? You're lucky everyone else in this house is dense enough to miss it."

You lowered your head slightly, irritation and embarrassment mixing unpleasantly inside your chest while Toph continued talking without pause.

"But not me. Since I am obviously the greatest Earthbender to ever li—"

Her voice rose noticeably toward the end of the sentence, forcing you to quickly slap a hand over her mouth before she could accidentally alert the entire floor.

"Fine, I get it," you whispered sharply. "Now can you please leave?"

Toph peeled your hand off her face with visible offense.

"Rude."

To your surprise, Toph's presence seemed to grow heavier beside you, the teasing tone disappearing entirely.

"You do know what you're doing is wrong, right?"

You paused, genuinely not expecting an actual lecture from her of all people.

"How is it wrong?"

Toph folded her arms. 

"First you reject him. Then you throw him toward Katara. And now that those two finally have something going on, suddenly you want him back?"

"Toph, we were kids," you argued quietly. 

"He's not still hung up over some rejection from when we were twelve. We're friends." You hesitated briefly before adding—

"And those two barely even have anything happening between them. I literally heard Katara admit it herself."

"Doesn't matter. It is still wrong."

"You're acting like I'm breaking them apart. They were never together to begin with!"

Toph clicked her tongue.

"You're still meddling. Worse, you're trying to steal him from your own friend."

You exhaled slowly, trying to keep your composure intact.

"Toph," you said carefully, "you're supposed to be the sensible one here. Is it really my fault if, after all these years, Aang ends up choosing me?"

"What makes you so sure he will?"

"Because Katara already had her chance." The words left you more sharply than intended. 

"They've spent years dancing around each other and still nothing came out of it. I disappeared from his life completely, and somehow even that wasn't enough to push them together." You glanced toward the balcony again. 

"At some point, maybe you have to admit it's simply not meant to be."

"You can't be the judge of that."

"I'm not trying to be." You straightened slightly, smoothing your skirt back into place before lifting your chin. 

"Aang will make his own choice. And if he chooses me...then just know I was right." A faint smile touched your mouth.

Toph let out a slow breath through her nose.

You glanced toward her once more before stepping back toward the doorway leading to the balcony.

"Now go, Toph. I'm sure you don't want to become someone who meddles."

She clicked her tongue at that, clearly unimpressed by your attempt at turning her own argument against her, though after another moment she finally sighed and began walking away down the hallway.

Yeah.

She really was a good friend.

Unlike you.

You stepped into the room slowly, making sure your footsteps were loud enough to announce your presence rather than startle him.

Still, you saw Aang's shoulders tense slightly at the first creak of the floorboards behind him.

He turned around quickly. "Katara?"

The name struck harder than you expected.

But the moment he realized it was you instead, surprise softened into a smile.

"Hey..." His voice quieter now, softened by the lingering haze the alcohol had left behind.

You approached carefully as you joined him near the railing, sliding the balcony doors shut behind you to block out the noise from downstairs.

You smile up at him, trying not to show your irritation at the name he had called out.

"Hi, Aang. Are you alright? You've been gone for a while." You kept your tone light, sweet enough to avoid making him cautious.

"Yeah," he answered with a small laugh beneath his breath. "I just needed some air. Clear my head a little."

"I see." You rested your arms lightly against the railing beside him. 

"Feeling better now?"

"Much."

He smiled again before glancing back toward the streets below.

"I think we should've predicted you'd be a lightweight."

"Seriously. It felt like my head fell off after one sip." Aang laughed rubbing the back of his neck.

"You head seems to be on right at least." You muse, leaning your back against the railing, having your head turned towards him as you spoke.

"Yup! I feel like myself again! For the most part at least." He jokes, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"You certainly look like you do." You tease, your eyes drifting over him once more before returning to his face.

"Come on. Let's go back! You did find me after all...everyone must be waiting." He says, before stepping away from the railing.

He had barely taken more than a couple of steps before your hand reached out instinctively, fingers wrapping around his forearm to stop him.

"Wait, Aang!"

He stopped the moment your hand touched him, turning back toward you almost immediately while you gently pulled him to a halt.

"Everything alright...?" He asked, remaining where he was instead of pulling away from your touch.

"Yeah, I just...I wanted to talk to you about something." You slowly let go of him once he stepped back beside you again.

"Oh." Aang settled against the railing once more, patient as ever. 

"What's up?"

"Aang..."

Well fuck. You didn't actually think this through.

You had managed to get yourself up here alone with him, had spent the last twenty minutes convincing yourself this was your perfect opportunity, and now that he stood in front of you waiting so openly for whatever you wanted to say, you realized you had absolutely no idea how to make any of this work without sounding insane.

How exactly were you supposed to convince the boy you once rejected to choose you over the girl he had spent years being smitten with?

The girl he had apparently already shared a bed with.

Your teeth sank unconsciously into your bottom lip while nerves clawed their way through you, your throat tightening with the sudden realization of how pathetically desperate you must have looked tonight.

Toph had been right.

Spirits, she had been completely right.

You tried not to let any of it show on your face, but something must have slipped through regardless, because Aang picked up on it immediately.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Aang's voice softened immediately with concern as he stepped closer, one hand settling carefully against your shoulder in an attempt to pull you out of whatever spiral you had disappeared into.

The touch snapped you back to reality far too quickly, his touch sending a chill throughout your skin, his newly matured voice doing wonders for your already fuzzy mind.

It completely ruined your ability to think straight.

"Why didn't you ever visit me?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

Aang blinked in confusion. "What...?"

Well.

You had already said it now.

There was no point trying to take it back.

"Everyone visited me. Or at least wrote to me often. You never did...and eventually your letters stopped showing up too."

Aang looked genuinely taken aback by that.

"Is that why you've been mad at me?"

You frowned slightly. "I've been mad at you?"

"You keep glaring at me, and you've barely talked to me since you got here." He admitted carefully.

Between obsessing over him and trying not to stare at him every five seconds, you may have completely forgotten to behave like a normal person around him.

In hindsight, perhaps openly glaring at Katara every time she touched him had not been particularly subtle either.

The realization made heat crawl straight up your neck, embarrassment settling uncomfortably in your chest at the thought of who else might have noticed your behavior tonight.

Though, considering Toph had described the others as "dense as rocks," perhaps you still had some dignity left intact.

But then again, you figured you could use that to your advantage.

"Yes. I am angry with you." You confirmed, averting your gaze, knowing damn well his absence in your life hadn't been significant either way.

Aang's expression fell almost immediately.

"I'm sorry. You never wrote back and I just thought..." He hesitated briefly before laughing awkwardly under his breath.

"I don't know. I thought maybe you hated me." Aang admits, trying to convince you he didn't do anything deliberately.

"Why would I hate you, Aang?"

Your voice softened deliberately around his name while you turned your face again, grateful for the lingering effects from the wine making your flushed appearance seem far more believable.

"I don't think my heart could ever hate you," you murmured. "No matter what you did."

"That means a lot to me. Really."

You nearly frowned when Aang completely missed the implication behind your words, smiling instead at what he clearly believed was simple affection.

"I know I annoyed you a lot back then," He continued with a sheepish laugh. "Following you around and all. I just thought you didn't like me."

You knew he did not mean 'like' in a romantic sense.

Though even if he had, he would not have been entirely wrong.

"I did like you, Aang," you admitted softly. "I think...I admired you more than I wanted to."

His looked taken aback at that.

"At first, I honestly couldn't stand any of you," you continued with a quiet laugh. "Watching you and Katara run around the North Pole disrespecting centuries of tradition nearly drove me insane." 

You shook your head lightly. 

"But I'm grateful for it now."

"I heard you started your own academy for women."

The pride in his voice made warmth bloom annoyingly in your chest.

"Yes. Alongside healing, I teach combat to anyone interested in learning." A faint smile crossed your face. 

"For that, I only have you and Katara to thank. Which is why..."

You let your voice trail off after that, deliberately avoiding his eyes while your fingers traced absent patterns against the railing, hoping it would make him more curious. 

And it does, almost predictably so.

"Which is why?" Aang prompted gently.

You hesitated just long enough.

"Which is why it hurt when you never showed up."

The apology appeared on his face instantly.

You could see it in the subtle stillness that overtook him, in the way his hands loosened against the railing as though guilt had slipped into his bones before he could defend himself.

"I thought you didn't want me there." He admitted quietly. 

"You never answered any of my letters, and after a while I just..." He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head once. 

"I didn't want to bother you."

A smile touched your mouth, carrying just enough sadness to make him regret the sentence before it had even finished leaving him.

"You could never bother me."

The night air drifted between you both, carrying distant sounds from the streets below, though they hardly reached the balcony anymore. 

His attention had settled entirely onto you now, patient and open in the way only Aang could be, and you hated how easy it was to pull him in once he decided to listen.

"I kept thinking you'd visit eventually," You continued.

"Every few months someone would arrive at the tribe and for a moment I'd convince myself it would be you." A quiet laugh escaped you. 

"Sokka and Suki came whenever they could. Katara visited enough that the children started asking when she would return. Even Toph showed up once and insulted half the tribe before she left."

That finally earned a laugh from him and you waited for it to fade before looking up again.

"But never you."

The amusement disappeared from his expression so quickly it almost made you feel cruel.

"I didn't know you wanted me to."

"I think I just expected you to know."

You softened the line the moment it landed, turning your head away before it could sound accusatory.

"Aang" and "knowing" had always belonged together. 

He noticed every frightened child, every wounded stranger, every person trying too hard to pretend they were alright. 

You were counting on that part of him now, feeding it carefully until he began searching your face for things you had not yet said.

"Spirits. This sounds embarrassing now." You say, covering your face with your hands.

"No, it doesn't."

The answer came too quickly, and so did his hands as they rested on yours, pulling them away from your face.

"Back then, you always pushed me away. You never really took me seriously whenever I..." A small laugh escaped him, awkward and fleeting. 

"I thought it meant you didn't want me around."

You looked at him for a moment before smiling faintly.

"Aang, we were children."

The embarrassment on his face deepened instantly.

"You were running around the world flirting with every girl who smiled at you."

"That is not true."

"Suki told me you tried to impress the Kiyoshi Warriors by flexing your staff."

"That was one time. I had never been around people who admired me before."

"You asked me if I thought your tattoos made you look mysterious."

"That—! That was Sokka's idea of— Ugh..." Aang groaned quietly into his hand while you laughed under your breath, watching the tension ease from him little by little.

"You were impossible, of course I didn't take you seriously." You chuckled.

"But...you do now?"

There it was.

Just a sliver of hope in his voice.

You waited, hesitating for a good anticipating moment before you spoke.

"I just...I think somewhere along the way...you stopped being a boy I simply found...amusing."

The honesty in that sentence unsettled him. His attention lingered on you, trying to read through your expression and failing each time you softened before giving too much away.

"You still could've written back to me." He muttered, though the guilt had not left him entirely.

"I know." You sighed lightly, searching your head for a believable excuse.

"But after the war ended, everything changed so quickly. You had a city to build. Katara stayed beside you. Sokka had Suki. Zuko was ruling an entire nation. Toph disappeared into whatever cave she crawled out of. " A smile tugged briefly at your mouth. 

"I suppose I convinced myself there wasn't really a place left for me."

"That's not true." 

"Isn't it?" You shot back instantly.

You did not say it bitterly. It was important not to do so. You couldn't show any anger or place blame. 

"You all built something together here while I stayed behind in the North teaching children how to heal sprained wrists."

"You did more than that."

"I know," you answered gently. "But it's different hearing about someone's life through letters instead of being part of it. And every time your letters became shorter, I told myself it was normal. You were growing into someone important. But..."

You paused again, and you knew every time you did so was nipping at his curiosity.

"You were important to me, Aang."

His throat shifted around a swallow.

"You were important to me too."

"Were?"

The correction slipped out playfully, but it struck him all the same. You watched realization move through him at once, watched him stumble over himself trying to fix it.

"Are. I meant are."

You let him have the recovery, lowering your eyes with a quiet smile that rewarded him for it.

"I know everyone needs something from you now," you said after a moment. "The council needs the Avatar. Republic City needs its founder. Whole nations probably line up waiting for a piece of your time." 

His attention was rooted to you. 

"But I didn't miss the Avatar."

He had gone entirely still beneath your words, waiting for you to finish your sentence. 

You slowly moved, catching him off guard as you softly took his hands in yours.

"I missed you."

You could practically feel him trying to make sense of it, trying to decide whether this ache blooming inside his chest had always been there or whether you had placed it there yourself.

"You...make it sound like I abandoned you..." He admitted, though there was no defensiveness in it.

You tilted your head slightly, watching him through your lashes.

"Didn't you?"

"Aang!" A voice echoed faintly somewhere inside the house, muffled by walls and distance. 

Katara.

You felt the interruption scrape across your nerves, but you did not let it show.

Instead, your thumb brushed once against the inside of his wrist, subtle enough to feel accidental.

His attention remained on you.

Interesting.

"I know you had your reasons." You continued gently, lowering your voice until it almost blended into the wind around you. 

"You've always done what everyone else needed first. I think that's why people expect you to wait forever for them."

Something unreadable passed through him then, because he understood exactly what you meant even without hearing her name.

"And what do you need?" He asked.

There it was.

Not the Avatar speaking.

Just Aang.

You let the silence play out for a while before finally moving your hand from his wrist and sliding it slowly into his palm instead, holding it facing up.

"I think, I wanted to know whether you would've chosen me if I had asked you to stay." You said softly,

"...Stay where?" His breath got heavier, very aware of your hand in his. You moved to use both your hands to hold one of his, bringing it closer to yourself with every word you spoke.

"With me? Continue to be a part of my life?" You say with a tilt of you head, brining his hand even closer till his fingers were barely grazed your stomach.

It was only when you slid his hand down, letting it slip under your skirt did he react. His breath hitched a sharp, stifled gasp and a deep flush crept across his face, catching him completely off guard.

"Wait—" 

Aang barely managed his protest before you smoothly cut him off with your own plea.

"I needed you, Aang. And I still do."

You really did.

He felt the heat of you, letting out an audible hiss at the touch. You weren't just warm; you were burning, so soaked that the fabric covering you had long since lost its purpose.

To test the waters, you removed your hands from the equation.

To your surprise, Aang does not pull his hand away, resting it right where it was, fingers pressed into the drench fabric.

You shifted, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a deep embrace that forced him to hunch over and rest against you. 

As you pulled him close, his face instinctively tucked away, hiding the sheer embarrassment of having his hand still buried between your thighs.

He could have moved. He should have. Yet, he stayed.

And he only melted further into you when your voice added—

"I really need you...Aang."

Apparently it had been enough to set him off, as you felt his fingers slip past the fabric failing to hold your desire, and his touch began experimental movements across the length of your folds, testing just how wet you really were.

"Hahh...!"

A breathless huff escaped you. The sensation of his fingers was far better than any fantasy had led you to expect.

Aang still hid his face against the curve of your neck, but you could feel his warmth radiating against you. 

The sweat that had beaded on his forehead, cutting through the arrow, now getting smeared onto you.

It didn't bother you not when you could feel his ragged, confused breaths fanning against your skin.

Dropping one arm from around him, you slid it between your thighs, pressing yourself against his hand to encourage him to dip inside.

He complied, though with a heavy hesitation, taking a few agonizing seconds to decide which finger would breach you first.

A moan escaped you, only to be stifled as you bit down hard on his shoulder. The memory of Katara looking for him just moments ago flashed through your mind.

You silently wished the fellow Water Tribe girl wouldn't ruin this moment for you.

Not when you were so close to having him.

Aang remained pressed against your shoulder, his mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. The frantic beating of his heart was uncontainable, and he knew you could surely feel the thud of it against your own skin.

His mind drifted to Katara. He remembered when they had finally seemed to have something, only for her to put a hold on it never speaking of it again, acting as if nothing had changed.

But you were right here, soaking his hand with a heat that was clearly a desperate need for him.

Sure, you had turned him down, but you were kids! And he was annoying and unserious back then.

And he had insulted your tribe's customs, likely offending you far more than he had ever intended.

He had spent so long thinking you hated him, never realizing that you had been caring for him all along.

And he had denied you that care, never once coming to visit.

He was torn.

He was caught between the woman who had shut him down when they were children, the one he held right here beneath his fingers, and the woman he had spent nearly a decade with, only to be turned away just as they had finally made progress.

Unable to decide, he forced himself to focus on the way you wrapped around his fingers, feeling the warmth of your honeyed walls clinging tightly to him.

"Have you...done this before?"

Your voice came in a breathless rasp, finally pulling away from his shoulder where you had been biting down to muffle your cries.

He couldn't be dishonest with you, but his voice failed him; instead, he answered with a silent nod.

You felt the small, hesitant shake of his head against your shoulder. You already knew his answer, after all you had overheard enough of Katara's words to lead you to this very moment.

"Would you like to...tell me who...it was?"

You pressed the question, struggling to keep your moans contained as your focus drifted from the slow pumping of his fingers.

Fuck...he was doing so good.

Aang still couldn't find his voice; worse, he felt too exposed, too shy to answer. 

He found a strange comfort in the way you gave him an option. You hadn't demanded a name or forced him to relive the details; you had simply asked if he wanted to share.

He figured that since you cared for him so deeply, you would never hold his past against him. With that thought, he responded with a small shake of his head.

He disagreed.

If you hadn't already known about him and Katara, his disagreement to sharing the name would have bothered to no extent. But knowing the truth made his hesitation sting. 

Still, in this moment, his reluctance only worked in your favor.

You shifted your weight, swapping your arms; you replaced the one draped over his shoulders with the one that had been aiding him, bringing it down to join his hand between your thighs. 

Your now free hand reached up to his head, stroking softly against his skin as you whispered—

"Okay. You don't have to tell me."

You spoke softly, a gentle balm intended to soothe his nerves.

Minutes passed as his fingers continued their work, though in the lulls, he opened his eyes to gaze at the city sprawling below.

Even though they were on the topmost floor of Katara's home, they weren't entirely invisible. They weren't high enough to be truly hidden; while a passerby at this hour was rare, it wasn't far from impossible. 

If anyone were to look up, they would find the Avatar in a very compromising position.

But he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when it felt like he was searching for the lost puzzle piece of his life inside your cunt. 

You on the other hand were thoroughly enjoying yourself, completely dazed under Aang's tentative touch.

But of course, it was only a matter of time before someone had to ruin it.

You didn't see who it was; all you noticed was the sudden creak of the door as the corridor light spilled into the room, a sharp intrusion that made you instinctively push harder against Aang.

"Someone is here, Aang straighten up!" you ordered in a hurried whisper. He barely seemed to register the command, so you pushed against his shoulders with renewed urgency, forcing him to straighten up and take a frantic step back.

"Oh! There they are!" Sokka's voice cut through the silence, muffled and faint behind the balcony door. You knew you only had a few seconds before he made his way over.

Moving with desperate grace, you caught Aang's hand, guiding it out from inside you. 

You brought his hand up to your face, and he watched, mesmerized, as you used both hands to direct him.

You pressed his slick fingers against your lips, observing his wide eyes as you slowly dragged the wetness down, your bottom lip bouncing back into place as the finger passed.

His first real reaction came when you took those same fingers into your mouth, cleaning them with a slow, deliberate sweep of your tongue before letting them fall.

His lips pressed together in a tight, pained line as you licked your own, wiping your tongue across your bottom lip while keeping his gaze locked onto yours. 

It was only when Sokka finally swung the balcony door open that you used a free hand to casually wipe the remaining moisture from your mouth.

"Do you have any idea how long we've been looking for you?"

Sokka's voice came first. You still could not properly see him with Aang standing between you and the entrance, though the annoyance in his tone painted the expression well enough.

"Why would you guys come all the way up here?"

Katara spoke next.

Instinctively, your attention flicked back toward Aang, searching immediately for some reaction at the sound of her voice.

There was none.

He remained entirely absorbed in the moment you had dragged him into, eyes fixed stubbornly on your mouth as though he still felt your lips around his fingers. 

And because he was looking at you so devotedly, you knew you could not risk letting your satisfaction show.

So you put on a usual cheeky smile.

Leaning slightly to the side, you finally stepped into view of the Water Tribe siblings.

"Katara! Sorry for intruding around your house," you said easily. "I just needed some air and ended up finding Aang here."

You smiled sweetly while speaking to her.

"It's alri—"

Katara barely managed half the sentence before Aang interrupted unexpectedly.

"Could you guys give us a moment?"

Even while speaking, he never looked away from you.

"What?" Sokka laughed. "You guys talking about something we're not allowed to hear?"

The joke landed far closer to the truth than he realized.

"We were discussing your birthday present," you answered smoothly before Aang could attempt it himself. "You don't want us ruining the surprise, do you?"

The lie came easily, effortless beneath your smile.

"Oh, sweet." Sokka grinned immediately. "Come on then, you two. Aang's still not off the hook for abandoning his drink after one sip."

You nodded along lightly at his teasing.

"Come on, Katara."

He motioned toward his sister, though Katara still had not taken her eyes off Aang.

"Your robes are clean now," she told him quietly. "You can dry them out and put them back on."

She was waiting for him to answer.

You truly expected him to.

But after several seconds passed in silence, with Aang still standing there looking entirely lost in you, you finally spoke for him instead.

"He'll be there in a minute," you said gently.

Katara's expression shifted almost imperceptibly at that, though all she gave in response was a small nod.

The siblings eventually turned away, disappearing back through the doorway.

You missed the way Sokka's smile slowly faded the moment they left the room, suspicion settling quietly beneath his expression.

The second they disappeared from sight, you turned back toward Aang and lifted your arms around his shoulders, slowly pulling his face closer to yours.

"Aang..."

He said nothing.

For one horrible second, you genuinely wondered whether you had pushed him too far, whether everything you had carefully built tonight had finally cracked beneath the weight of your own desperation.

Still, you forced yourself to continue.

"I have certain feelings for you, and..."

You let the sentence trail off deliberately, lowering your eyes for only a moment to see whether he would follow.

He did, meeting your eyes quickly.

"...If you feel the same," you continued softly, "or even if you don't...I would rather you tell me honestly instead of making me guess."

He still doesn't say anything, and suddenly you became painfully aware of the fact he still was not touching you back. 

His hands remained tightly wrapped around the balcony railing while he stayed slightly hunched within your hold, breathing harder than before yet making no move toward you at all.

So you leaned in first.

Your lips barely brushed his, letting it rest against him softly, giving him every opportunity to close the distance himself if he wanted to.

You waited.

But when nothing came from him, you slowly pulled away again, forcing yourself to accept the rejection with whatever dignity you still had left.

You released him completely after that.

Without another word, you moved past him and made your way back toward the room alone, fixing your appearance along the way while trying not to think too hard about the humiliation burning through your chest.

By the time you reached the room again, Zuko was approaching from the opposite hallway carrying a rolled mattress beneath one arm.

"You're staying over?" You asked quietly, falling into step beside him.

"We all are," he answered simply while pushing the door open. "Sokka's idea."

"Let me help."

You moved beside him automatically, helping spread the mattress across the floor while the others continued setting up the rest nearby.

Several minutes later, Aang finally returned.

The moment he stepped back into the room, nearly everyone looked up toward him automatically while Katara quietly approached with his robes folded neatly in her arms, still slightly damp from washing.

"Thanks..." he says, accepting them with a small smile though noticeably avoiding her eyes.

With one absent motion of his hand, warm air rushed through the fabric until the remaining dampness vanished completely, pulling the robes back on quickly.

"You're staying over, right, Aang?" Katara asked him.

Aang let out a distracted hum first, clearly taking a second to even process the question.

"Y-yeah! Yeah, I'll stay." He answered.

Then he moved toward the others to help arrange the remaining mattresses across the floor.

You noticed immediately how carefully he avoided looking at you.

Humiliation crawled so violently through your chest that for one awful moment you genuinely thought you might burst into tears right there in front of everyone.

So, you decided to play your final card.

After finishing helping Toph with one of the mattresses, you slowly rose to your feet. The others remained distracted arranging blankets and arguing over sleeping spots, giving you the perfect moment to speak.

"I'm sorry, guys." You said quietly, right before the final mattress could be laid down properly. 

"I think I'll head back to the inn for the night."

Almost immediately, Suki looked up in concern, her attention catching on your agitated expression.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." You forced a faint smile. 

"I don't think the wine sat right in my stomach, and I'd rather be alone before it gets worse."

The excuse sounded embarrassingly pathetic even to you, though thankfully nobody questioned it.

You had barely managed three steps toward the hallway when Aang's voice suddenly cut through the room behind you.

"Wait—"

The word came out louder than he intended, pulling the attention of everyone gathered across the floor. Conversations halted almost immediately, Sokka halfway through unfolding another mattress while Suki looked up from where she sat beside him. 

Even Katara paused mid movement, fingers still curled around the edge of folded blankets.

Aang looked momentarily caught off guard by the silence he had created, standing near the doorway with his robes hanging loosely from his shoulders. 

His eyes found yours first before quickly shifting toward the others.

"I'll be back. I'll just walk her back. It's late." He said, clearing his throat once.

You stopped at the sound of him volunteering himself so quickly, though you made sure not to turn around immediately. 

The smile threatening to betray you curled against your mouth before you forced it back down, lowering your head just enough to hide it beneath the curtain of your hair.

Behind you came the soft sound of approaching footsteps.

You finally glanced sideways once his presence settled near enough to feel, only to notice your shadow disappearing beneath his entirely, swallowed whole against the wooden floorboards.

"Let's go."

You nodded softly before leaning sideways toward the room, offering everyone one last smile.

"Goodnight."

A chorus of sleepy replies followed, though the atmosphere had shifted too strangely.

You stepped into the hallway first, Aang close behind you.

Perhaps Katara already understood he would not be returning tonight. 

Perhaps all of them did.

Because right before Aang had pulled his robes back on, the mark you left behind had not gone unnoticed.

The bite pressed near his shoulder stood out plainly against his skin for one terrible second before fabric covered it again, though one second had been more than enough.

Enough for Sokka's expression to flatten beneath confusion.

Enough for Suki's eyes to widen before she quickly looked away.

Enough for Katara to go completely still.

No one spoke of it.

They simply resumed around the absence, voices awkwardly finding each other. 

Toph remained the only one untouched by the shift in atmosphere, still arguing with Zuko over where she wanted to sleep while the rest of them waited quietly for the Avatar's return despite knowing, somewhere deep down, that he would not be coming back anytime soon.

The walk back to the inn passed beneath a suffocating silence, neither of you quite knowing what could possibly be said after what had happened on that balcony.

Aang stayed half a step ahead the entire way, shoulders tense beneath his robes, attention fixed stubbornly on the empty streets ahead rather than you. 

You noticed it after the second block.

His hand.

The same hand that had been between your thighs less than half an hour ago kept flexing at his side every few moments, fingers curling tightly into his palm before releasing again, restless and agitated.

Once, he nearly lifted it toward his face before abruptly stopping midway, jaw tightening faintly as he forced it back down again.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling.

Because despite the distance he was trying so desperately to create between himself and what happened, his body had already betrayed him entirely.

By the time you reached the inn, the silence between you had grown so dense it nearly felt tangible.

Aang stopped only once the two of you stood at the entrance, the lantern hanging beside gate casting a dim glow across the side of his face. 

For the first time since leaving Katara's house, he finally looked at you properly.

"Okay. Goodnight." He said after a moment.

You watched him step past you.

And just before he could get too far, you finally spoke.

"Come to my room, Aang."

He stopped instantly.

For a second he did not move at all, standing there with his back turned toward you before slowly facing you again. 

The flush across his face had not faded in the slightest, still spread stubbornly over his cheeks and ears while confusion sat plainly beneath it.

You tilted your head slightly.

"Did you really come all this way just to say nothing?"

Aang opened his mouth briefly, only for whatever response he meant to give to die somewhere before reaching his tongue. 

His attention slipped away from you again, landing somewhere near the floor while his hand flexed once more at his side.

Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you.

You turned before he could second guess himself, walking down the hallway with measured steps while his followed close behind you. 

Neither of you spoke as you unlocked the door, pushing it open before stepping aside to let him enter first.

Aang hesitated slightly before walking in.

You shut the door behind you and leaned against it for one brief moment, fingers still curled around the handle while your heartbeat thundered violently against your ribs.

Because all you could think now was—

It was now or never.

"Aang." You call out softly, just his name, testing the weight of it.

He flinches like you've struck him. His shoulders drop, his head bowing as if he's suddenly carrying the weight of the entire world again. 

"I shouldn't be here," he whispers into the quiet of the room, his voice cracking enough to show how close he is to snapping. 

"I should go back. It's not right, and—"

"It's not right," you interrupt, your voice dropping an octave. You take one step closer, watching him tense. 

"But you want to stay. You want this so badly it's making you tremble, Aang."

He lets out a ragged, broken sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan as he finally looks up. His eyes are wide and desperate with of confusion. 

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?" You're in his space now, close enough to feel the heat coming off him. 

You reach out, your fingertips barely grazing the fabric of his robes along his collarbone where you bit him earlier. 

He shudders at the proximity, his breath hitching. 

"You can go back to being the perfect Avatar, the perfect friend, the perfect everything. You can walk out that door right now and pretend this never happened."

You lean in closer, your lips brushing his ear, your voice a velvet promise. 

"But you won't. Because for the first time in your entire life, you're going to choose what you want. Not what's right or expected of you. Just what you want."

You pull back enough to catch his gaze, your eyes dark with the truth of it. 

"So tell me, Aang. Are you really going to walk out that door?"

He moves away from you, crossing to reach your bed.

Aang sinks onto the edge of your bed, burying his face in his hands as if he can squeeze the conflicting thoughts right out of his skull. 

You move to sit beside him, your thigh brushing his, and the way he flinches even now makes your pulse thrum.

"Why is this bothering you so much?" You ask softly, your voice a gentle caress against his turmoil.

"It's not..." He chokes out the lie, his fingers digging into his scalp. 

"It's just...everything changed. The way I look at you, the way you look at me it's like the world shifted and I don't know where my feet are supposed to land."

He turns his head, searching your face for something an explanation, a reason.

He finally asks—

"What do you need from me?"

You paused, not having expected it but grateful for his question nonetheless.

"I just want you." You say simply.

He stares at you, eyes wide and searching, trying to untangle the knots you've tied in his mind. 

You don't make him wait. 

You stand, moving between his knees as you straddle him, settling yourself firmly in his lap.

His hands hesitate in the air, fingers twitching as if they want to catch you, to hold you and then they drop, fists clenching at his sides as he forces himself to stay still.

"I will give you everything you want, Aang," You promise him, leaning in until your breath fans over his lips. 

"I will never disappoint you. I'll give you a home. Children. A safe place where you can just be Aang. No burdens."

The silence that follows is different, heavy with the weight of the life you've just offered him. 

Finally, he finds his voice. 

"Why...?"

"Because I want to." You say, the words sure and steady. 

"I want to be your wife."

Aang's entire body stills. 

His eyes widen, his breath hitching in his throat as if you've just knocked the wind out of him. 

"Why...why would you want that?" He sounds genuinely lost, as if you've just spoken a language he doesn't understand.

"Because..." You hesitate, letting out a chuckle as you see him unconsciously lean closer in patience.

"I love you," you say, leaning forward to press your forehead against his, closing your eyes. 

"And I want you to be free."

You stay there for a moment, letting the weight of your confession settle. 

When you pull back, he's looking at you with an expression you can't quite read.

It was something between awe and sheer terror.

For a long painful while, Aang said nothing at all. 

His eyes slowly slipped shut, his head lowering slightly while his fingers tightened into fists. 

You watched the conflict move across his face in, watching him sit there trying to untangle every thought pulling him apart from the inside.

And suddenly, fear crawled its way up your spine. It truly felt possible that he might pull away from you completely.

"You will have to come live in Republic City," He says quietly.

You were snapped out of your wallowing thoughts. 

When you finally replayed the moment, his sentence barely registered.

You were still too focused on the fear twisting inside your chest, too busy preparing yourself for rejection to properly process what he had actually said.

Then the meaning finally settled into place.

Your head snapped up immediately, as you froze, pulling back to stare at him in shock. 

"Are you...agreeing?"

He hesitates, his throat working as he swallows hard. Then, slowly, he nods.

You can't help it; a squeal of pure triumph escapes you. 

"Thank you, Aang!" 

You lunge forward to hug him again, the momentum sending you both backward onto the mattress.

When you sit back up, Aang's breath hitches. 

His eyes go wide as you reach for the hem of your top and pull it over your head in one fluid motion. 

The fabric slides off your shoulders, leaving you bare chested in the dim light, your nipples already peaked from the adrenaline.

"What are you doing?" He almost exclaims, his voice cracking. He wrenches his gaze away, jaw tight, shoulders hunching as if he's trying to make himself smaller.

"Isn't this why you came here?" You tilt your head, watching him through your lashes, your voice dropping into that sweet, manipulative purr.

"We still have things to talk about," He says, forcing himself to sit up straighter. 

He stares at your face with desperate intensity, pointedly ignoring the way your breasts are inches from his chest.

"Do you...not want me?" You let the question hang, making your voice go small, making your eyes well with perfectly calculated tears.

"That's not—!!" He cuts himself off, the confession dying in his throat.

"Then kiss me..." You whisper, the command soft but absolute.

Another moment passes in a thick and suffocating silence before he finally gives in. 

He leans in, his movement hesitant as he presses his lips to yours. 

It's not the confident kiss of a man who knows what he wants, it's the kiss of someone who's finally stopped fighting the inevitable.

You let the kiss linger, pressing into him enough to leave him breathless, then pull back with a shy, triumphant smile. 

"There..." You whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. 

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Before he can answer, you reach for the ties of his robes. 

Your movements are swift as you undo the knots. 

Aang freezes, his breath hitching in his throat, but he doesn't pull away. 

You peel the heavy fabric from his shoulders, exposing the broad span of his back and the striking blue line that curves down his spine. His skin is hot beneath your palms, and you feel the way his muscles jump at your touch.

"You're so beautiful." You coo, your voice a velvet caress as you slide the robes down his arms, leaving him bare chested. 

The arrowheads on his hands flex as he grips the mattress, knuckles white, his chest heaving.

You shift your weight, moving from his laps as you sink to your knees onto the ground between his legs, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. 

"May I?" you ask, your hands already moving to the waistband of his pants.

Aang makes a sound like he's choking on it. 

"I... yes," He manages, his voice barely a whisper.

When you finally free him, he's already past the point of no return. 

You take him in your hands first, stroking him slowly, watching his head fall back as his hand tremble to hold his weight upright. 

Then you lean in.

The first touch of your lips makes him gasp, his hips jerking up involuntarily. 

You go slow, teasing him, swirling your tongue around the head, catching every drop of pre cum. 

You want him to feel every sensation, to realize exactly what he's been missing. You take him in deep, inching slowly as your throat tightens around him, and the sound that leaves him is raw and broken.

"Spirits, please..." He moans, his fingers digging harshly into the sheets.

"Do you like this, Aang?" You murmur against him, pulling back enough to look up at him. 

"Do you like how I take care of you?"

You let the question hang in the air, your tongue slowly tracing the length of him again, making him whine that sweet, broken sound that tells you exactly how close he is. 

You can feel the way he's trembling beneath your touch, his breath coming in shallow, uneven hitches.

"Shh, I know," You whisper against him, your lips barely brushing the sensitive skin. 

"I've got you, Aang. Let me take care of you."

You keep your movements agonizingly slow. 

You drag your tongue up and down, teasing the ridge with just enough pressure to make his hips twitch involuntarily before you pull back. 

You want him suspended here right on the edge of conflict and emotion, hoping it might bring out some of his truth out with it.

His hand moves, finding the top of your head.

His fingers tangle in your hair, not pulling you but holding you there, grounded by the contact. 

"You're...you're making it so hard," He chokes out, his eyes squeezed shut, his head lulling back and forth.

"Is it too much?" You murmur, your voice dripping with fake concern as you take him deeper. 

You swirl your tongue around the tip, and the sound he makes, that wrecked, desperate whimper is better than any confession he could have given you.

You keep your pace steady, your eyes never leaving his face as you watch him whimper breathlessly. 

You lean back to press a soft kiss to his inner thigh, your lips barely grazing him, and hear him catch his breath sharply.

"Please..." He pleads, his voice cracking. "I don't... I don't know how to "

"It's okay," You interrupt softly, your hands sliding up his thighs to feel the taut muscle there. 

"Just feel it, Aang. Just feel how good this is."

You go back down, your tongue working in slow, deliberate circles, teasing the sensitive skin just below the head. 

When his hips buck upward, nearly meeting you halfway, you pause, pulling back once again to look up at him through your lashes. 

His chest is heaving, his skin flushed, those arrowhead on his hand flexing as he dug into the bedding.

"Do you want more?" You ask, your voice a velvet trap.

He can't even find words. 

He just nods, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.

You take him in deep, your throat tightening around him, letting out a soft, satisfied hum as you feel him shudder underneath you. 

You keep it slow, tantalizingly close to the edge, making him feel every single second of it.

You pull away abruptly, the sudden absence of your warmth making him let out a pathetic, wounded hiss through his teeth. 

You can't help the laugh that escapes you as you watch his hand leave your head and meet the mattress again, eyes glazed over and unfocused.

"You said earlier you've done this before," You state, moving your hand to resume that slow, torturous slide up and down his length. 

"Did she not do this...?"

Aang shakes his head, his entire body betraying him as a fresh bead of pre cum wells at the tip. 

He doesn't know you already know. He doesn't know you've already heard the truth, and you savor that.

"What did you do then?" You ask, your voice dripping with faux innocence.

"I...I used my fingers on her..." He trails off, his blush deepening to a feverish red that stains his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

"Then I tried to..."

"Go on..." You encourage, stopping your hand entirely. 

You watch the way his breath hitches at the sudden lack of friction, his hips twitching upward instinctively.

"I used my mouth..." He chokes out, his voice barely audible. "But she didn't like it..."

"Not everyone enjoys it." You say with a gentle shrug.

"It difficult, being so exposed to the person you like..." Trailing off, you wait for a nuance, but his breathless gasps continue.

"Had she asked you to do it?"

"No..." He says immediately, the word tumbling out with a touch of guilt. 

"I just...I didn't want it to hurt her when we..."

You pout.

"How sweet of you, Aang," You coo, resuming the rhythmic movement of your hand. 

His hips jerk in place, his breath hitching as he fights to keep it together. 

"And then what happened?"

"Then we did... it." He groans, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Is she still in your life?" You question, watching to see if he would finally admit it.

"We never spoke about it after..."

"Oh, you poor thing..." You murmur, letting go of him entirely as you move upward to wrap your arms around him. 

You press your face into the crook of his neck, feeling the rapid thudding of his heart. 

"I would never deny you like that, Aang. Never."

The silence stretches and the weight of your words fall thick around you. 

Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms come around you. His touch is almost reverent, his fingers curling into your back as he pulls you flush against him. 

"Thank you..." He whispers into your hair, so quiet you almost miss it.

You pull back to look him in the eyes, your expression a mask of perfect, gentle understanding. 

"Would you like to...try it with me?"

He doesn't hesitate this time. He nods, his grey eyes focused on yours with a look of surprising relief.

"Okay." You say, your smile widening just a fraction too far to be entirely innocent. 

"I think we can skip a step, since you've already used your fingers earlier tonight. Not that I'm opposed." You give a gentle wink, making him shyly avert his gaze.

The air in the room feels like it might combust from the sheer, unadulterated tension as you slide off his lap, the movement agonizingly slow. 

The sound of your skirt hitting the floor is the only thing breaking the silence, followed by the sight of your soaked underwear being peeled away.

Aang's breath hitches audibly as he watches you maneuver onto the bed.

His eyes drop to where you're sitting back against the pillows, legs spreading open to reveal everything to him, glistening and swollen in the dim light. 

He looks completely undone. 

He crawls forward on his knees, hovering over you like he's approaching something sacred, his hands trembling as they ghost over your thighs.

When his thumb finally makes contact, pressing against your already swollen folds, you can't help it that sharp hiss escapes your teeth.

"Hahh!" 

You arch slightly, your fingers digging into the bedsheets. 

You look down at him through your lashes, voice breathless and strained. 

"Do you...know what to do?"

Aang shakes his head, his face flushed a deep, burning red. 

He looks absolutely terrified to mess this up, yet the need in his eyes is undeniable. 

Without waiting for another word, he leans forward, his tongue darting out to taste you.

The contact makes your hips jerk upward, and when he pulls back, a long, broken moan tears from your throat. 

You can feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer desperation in his movements.

"That's okay..." You say, your voice dropping into as devastatingly sweet, encouraging tone. 

You reach down, your palm cupping his cheek, forcing him to look up at you while his mouth is still wet from you. 

The arrow on his head catches the light, his pupils dilated and hazy with need. 

"I...I will help you..."

You slide your hand over his head, guiding him back down, pressing him closer until his lips meet you again. 

Under your hand, you can feel the way he shudders, gasping against you as he finally lets himself lose control, his tongue working with a clumsy, earnest passion that makes your vision blur.

The way he's looking at you right now dazed and flushed, is better than any orgasm. 

You reach down, your fingers spreading his lips apart just slightly so you can guide his face, your voice dropping into a low and instructional tone.

"No, not like that..." You mumble, your thumb grazing his bottom lip. 

"Lower. Right...there." 

You push him down, your hips tilting instinctively toward the contact. When his tongue finds the swollen nub of your clit, you let out a sharp, broken gasp that makes him jerk back. 

"Slow down, Aang. Use the flat of your tongue. Don't...don't be so frantic."

He obeys instantly, his movements cautious and devout as if he's afraid he might get the same reaction he got last time. 

But you can feel the desperation beneath his hesitation, the way his fingers curl into the flesh of your thighs, knuckles white. 

You guide his head with your hands, showing him exactly how you want to be touched long, slow strokes that make your whole body tense, then quick, teasing laps that make your breath hitch.

"Yes...just like that,... You pant, your voice making the short hairs at the nape of his neck stand up. 

"Oh Aang...! You're doing so good. So good for me..."

The praise is clearly working; you feel him adjust, his tongue finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

You can feel him watching you through his lashes, studying your face for every twitch of your lips and every stuttered breath. 

You want him to see exactly what he's doing to you, to witness the way his tongue is pleasuring you unimaginably.

You tilt your head back and whisper his name like a mantra. 

"That's it, Aang! Just like that...You're doing so well for me!"

You let your head fall back against the pillows, your breath coming in shallow, staggered gasps as you guide him. Your hand is gently pressing his face closer whenever he hesitates, whenever he pulls back to look at you with those wide, uncertain eyes.

"There...keep going—!" You moan, your hips tilting up of their own accord. "Right there!"

The ragged sound he makes when he's trying to be careful is more intoxicating than any physical sensation. 

Every time your soft instructions pull a whimper from him, a spike of triumph shoots through you.

He's being so careful. So incredibly gentle with you, his tongue moving with a hesitant reverence that makes your stomach flip. He's trying to learn you, trying so hard to do this right, and the sheer vulnerability of it is what finally breaks you.

You did it.

You eyes flutter shut as another wave of pleasure rolls through you. 

You actually did it.

The thought is more intoxicating than the sex itself. 

The realization that you've dismantled the Avatar, stripped away the hero and the monk until all that's left is this raw, exposed boy who is so desperately trying to please you...it's better than anything you could have imagined when you started this a day ago.

"Y-you're doing so good..." You whisper the genuine praise that makes him shudder. His tongue sweeps again, longer this time, more confident, and you can't help the way your thighs tighten around his face, pulling him in. 

"Just like that, Aang. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop...!"

You listen to the wet, slurping sounds of him working on you, the way he swallows every moan you let out, and you feel that possessive heat blooming in your chest. 

He's not yours yet.

Not entirely. 

But you can feel the shift in him. 

The way he's clinging to you, the way he's listening to you.

When he finally presses his face harder against you, his breath hot against your damp skin, and you feel that first surge of your orgasm building. 

You meet him halfway, your hips arching up, your fingers digging into his skin as you whisper his name like a prayer.

"That's it...oh spirits, Aang..."

You watch him through heavy eyelids, the way his jaw works, the way his eyes go unfocused as he feels you writhe under him. 

And you realize that you're already planning how to make him do this again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Until he doesn't even remember what it was like when you weren't the only thing he wanted to please.

"Aang, I'm—!" The words catch in your throat as a wave of pleasure begins to build harshly.  "I'm going to—!"

"I've got you..." He mumbles against your skin, his voice thick and unrecognizable. 

He presses his face into you, his tongue working with a sudden, focused intensity that shatters your last thread of control.

Your orgasm hits like a physical blow, your entire body going rigid as you cry out his name, sinking your fingers into his scalp as you come apart beneath him. 

You feel him catch every drop, his tongue sweeping over you with a greedy thoroughness that leaves you shaking and breathless.

When you finally slump back, your chest heaving, your skin slick with sweat, he pulls back to look up at you. 

His face is feverish, his lips wet, and his eyes are completely glazed with something that looks terrifyingly close to worship.

"Was that..." He starts, his voice cracking. 

"Was that okay?"

You can't even find the words to tell him it was better than perfect. 

You just reach down, your fingers trembling as you cup his face, pulling him back up for a kiss that tastes of you and him.

You guide his back to the pillows with gentle pressure from your hands on his shoulders, watching the way he settles beneath you, all broad shoulders and lean muscles, his tattooed arms splayed out like he's surrendering to something inevitable. 

He looks utterly wrecked, his breathing still coming in ragged puffs, his gaze following your every movement with a mix of curiosity and unadulterated terror.

"I've got you..." You assure, your voice like honey as you straddle his hips. 

You do not rush it. 

You don't even move to come down on him yet. 

You just sit there, your knees on either side of his thighs, feeling the heat radiating off him. 

"Just breathe, Aang. Look at me."

His gaze snaps up to yours, so wide and vulnerable. 

You reach down, your thumb grazing over his lips to wipe the remnants of your pleasure, and he lets out a choked sound when you touch him.

"Shh..." You coo, leaning forward until your breasts brush his chest, your nipples grazing against his skin. 

"I'm going to be so careful with you. I promise."

When you finally lower yourself down, the way he gasps a broken, shattered sound that rips straight through your chest is almost enough to make you stop. 

But you don't. 

You sink down slowly, agonizingly slow, taking him in inch by inch. 

You watch his eyes pull open before screwing shut the next second, his head falling back into the pillows as you fill yourself completely. You can feel his hands hovering just above your waist, trembling, wanting to grab you but terrified to do so.

"That's it..." You moan, your voice thick with the pleasure he's giving you. 

"Oh Aang...you feel so good."

You start to move, but it's not fast. No matter how desperate you were, you do not pick up your pace. 

You move slow, grinding back and forth on him. 

You're taking your time, riding him with a languid motion that forces him to feel every single corner of you. You lean forward and whisper in his ear.

"Tell me what you want me to do, Aang. Tell me how you want me."

"I..." He swallows hard, his hands finally coming to rest on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with a desperation that makes your smile.

"I want you to...just like that. Please." His sentence was incomplete, but you understood plenty. 

You let out a throaty moan, arching your back as you grind down on him, your moans getting louder, more shameless. 

You want him to hear it. You want him to hear exactly what he's doing to you. You press your palms flat against his chest, feeling his heart hammering like a trapped bird beneath your touch.

"You're so beautiful..." You whisper, your voice trembling with genuine awe as your eyes brim with tears. 

"My perfect, beautiful Aang."

The way he says your name after, in that broken, wrecked manner is when you know you've really done it. 

You've broken him open. 

And as you find your rhythm, as you ride him with the motive to give him that devastating pleasure, you know you're never letting him go.

You lean forward, as you press your chest against his, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your fingers find your own aching heat, working in a rhythmic counterpoint.

Aang is completely lost now, his head lolling back, his throat working around a broken moan as you guide him toward the edge.

"Aang..." You whisper against his skin, your breath hot making him shudder. You pull back, looking at him softly as you ghost your lips over his.

"I need you to...I need you to let go. Just like that. For me."

His fingers press into your waist with strength. 

His eyes find yours, and for a moment, you finally see it.

The moment he decides to stop fighting.

When it happens, it's so beautiful. 

You feel his entire body seize beneath you, his hips arching off the mattress as he finally breaks. 

You don't even flinch when he gasps your name with a sob, pressing yourself down hard, grinding against him, ensuring every single drop of him is claimed. 

You take it all, swallowing his release with a greedy, possessive whimper, your own orgasm crashing over you in that leaves you trembling.

You stay there for a long time, collapsed against his chest, listening to the frantic, uneven thudding of his heart. 

You can feel the warmth of him still inside you, a thrumming weight that makes your stomach flip with triumph.

Slowly, you pull back. His eyes are still blown wide, staring at the ceiling with a look of complete, hollowed out shock. 

He's breathing hard, his skin flushed, the arrow on his head a stark against his pale skin. 

He looks utterly shattered, completely undone by you.

"Aang?" you whisper, your voice innocent.

He doesn't answer. He just lies there, staring, still taking long inhales through his nose. 

You know exactly what you've done. 

You've crossed a line he can never uncross. 

You've claimed him in the most irreversible way, and you did it while making him think it was his choice.

"Oh, Aang..." You murmur, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek, your thumb tracing the curve of his lower lip. 

"You were so good. So perfect."

His eyelashes flutter, and for a moment, you think he might cry. Then, his hand moves slow, hesitant and rests against your thigh. It's not a push away. It's still there.

“Weren’t you…supposed to…move?” he managed to choke out eventually, his eyes searching yours while you stared back at him in confusion.

For a moment, you genuinely had no idea what he meant.

So you simply waited for him to explain himself.

Except he never actually said it.

Instead, his attention dropped lower, landing where your bodies were still pressed together intimately, and realization hit you almost instantly.

You giggle, lowering your chest to his, as you hold him.

"I wanted it." You confess softly, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to his temple. 

"I wanted you. All of you."

You stay there, wrapped around him, waiting. 

Waiting for the moment he realizes he can't go back. 

Waiting for the moment he accepts he's yours.

And as you feel him exhale, a long, shuddering breath that dissolves into that of relief, you know.

You've already won.

Months later, sometimes you still thought about the look on Katara's face when you and Aang announced not only that you were together, but that the wedding would follow two months later.

You had not enjoyed it.

That was perhaps the cruelest part of all this. 

Beneath the jealousy, the selfishness, beneath the quiet satisfaction curling inside your chest, Katara had still been your friend. 

The sight of her standing there so perfectly composed while grief leaked through the cracks of her face had filled you with immediate guilt.

But guilt did not undo anything.

She had her chance, and she let it pass her by with trembling hands and too much hesitation. 

You had been offered the very same thing only once, and you had taken it without allowing yourself enough time to think twice.

That alone had decided everything.

It did not matter now anyway. 

The damage had already settled itself between all of you. 

You still saw them, of course.

Toph remained unchanged, thankfully immune to awkwardness, still insulting you with the same affection she always had. 

Zuko treated everything with neutrality, though every now and then you would catch the faintest exhaustion in his eyes whenever tension filled the room for too long.

But Sokka had grown quieter around both of you, his easy laughter no longer arriving naturally, while Suki watched situations unfold with patience, refusing to interfere. 

And Katara—

Katara tried.

Spirits, she really tried.

Yet there was only so much grace a person could carry before it started collapsing under its own weight.

The worst part was that none of them even lived in Republic City anymore except for her.

Despite it, you moved to the city.

You had promised Aang you would, and unlike everyone else, you never made promises to him you did not intend to keep.

The pregnancy had complicated things almost immediately. 

Explaining why your stomach had already begun rounding before the wedding was difficult enough, though the true horror came when four months into your marriage you could no longer disguise it beneath layered robes and loose fabric.

People counted months cruelly.

Especially your own friends.

Still, none of them said anything directly. 

Not even Katara.

Marriage itself settled around you strangely fast. 

Domestic life came naturally, and it unexpected how easily your fell into it.

Slipping into place piece by piece until you could no longer imagine waking without Aang somewhere nearby.

Though 'nearby' often meant temporary.

He was gone more than he was home, forever chasing disasters across nations, disappearing on Appa before sunrise whenever the duties of the Avatar demanded him elsewhere. 

Sometimes he would return exhausted enough to barely stay awake through dinner before collapsing beside you still half dressed.

Other nights he came home restless, carrying the weight of too many people needing too much from him all at once.

But whenever he was home, he loved you openly.

That was what mattered most.

By the seventh month of your pregnancy, Aang had developed the habit of kneeling in front of you every evening, pressing his ear against your stomach with complete seriousness while the twins shifted violently beneath your skin.

"They're arguing again." He would say thoughtfully.

You laughed every single time.

"They are not arguing."

"They definitely are. This one keeps kicking the other."

"They must have inherited your inability to sit still."

Aang only grinned before pressing another kiss against your stomach, completely unbothered by your jokes.

He was convinced both babies would be girls.

You remained certain one would be a boy.

Neither of you won.

The labor lasted nearly an entire night, leaving you exhausted beyond reason by the time the twins finally arrived screaming into the world shortly before dawn.

You gave birth to two boys. 

Two impossibly tiny boys with lungs strong enough to wake half the district.

Aang cried harder than either of them did.

You would remember that forever.

The sight of him sitting beside you with one baby clutched awkwardly against his chest while the other rested in your arms, tears slipping down his face faster than he could wipe them away.

You knew he was overwhelmed by something too enormous to fit inside him.

They looked more like him than you from the very beginning.

Those very grey eyes. His nose. Their pale skin that scrunched impossibly whenever they cried too hard.

You could feel it already, that they would be very powerful.

He held those boys carefully, almost fearfully, as though he could not quite believe they were real.

Months later, late at night. you would often find yourself curled against Aang’s side in bed while the twins slept against his chest, tiny bodies rising and falling steadily.

Something deep in Aang seemed to settle whenever the twins were in his arms. The sight softened something deep inside him every single time.

“What’s wrong?” You asked once after catching him staring at them for far too long, distant thoughts clouding his face while one of the babies slept soundly beneath his chin.

Aang blinked before smiling faintly.

“Nothing.”

You leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss against his shoulder before settling back into his side again, one hand moving instinctively to pat the back of the baby resting on his chest while Aang carefully adjusted the other higher against him.

Then, after a while, his hand drifted absentmindedly toward one of the twins, fingertips brushing softly through the wisps of hair on his head just as a tiny gust of air stirred weakly around the tiny blankets.

The movement was small, but it made you go completely still.

Because suddenly, you understood.

After all, you had not simply become his wife.

You had become the future of the Air Nomads.

The only future left.

a/n: i laughed OUT LOUD on many occasions as i was editing it. but i still like it very much. so, i will sit in my shame like the clown that i am.

masterlist :: atla masterlist

Your entire body seizes up- and then you're gushing, squirting all over his cock in hot, shameless waves that drench his balls and splatter against his thighs. The wet spllrrtt sounds are absolutely filthy, your release spraying around where he's still buried inside you, soaking the sheets beneath your trembling knees.

“Oh-“ Caleb's composure shatters, “You're- holy-, you're squirting- drenching me just from that...”

Your legs give out entirely but he catches you, arm locking around your waist to hold you in place while he fucks you through the aftershocks. Every thrust sends another weak spray of your release gushing around his cock, the obscene squelching sounds mixing with your broken whimpers.

Caleb chases his own release with short, sharp thrusts that drive his cockhead right against your battered cervix until he hilts himself one final time and grinds.

That's when you feel the pulse of his cock as he empties himself directly into your womb. Rope after rope of hot, thick cum, flooding your insides until you're certain you can't hold any more- but he keeps going, keeps pumping, keeps filling you like his sole purpose in life is to ensure you're bred beyond any shadow of doubt.

When he finally stills, you're both panting.

The room smells like sex and sweat and him, and you can't move. Genuinely cannot move. Your limbs have stopped responding to commands, your muscles reduced to jelly, your cunt still weakly clenching around his softening cock like it's trying to milk out every last drop. The sheets beneath you are absolutely ruined- soaked through with your release and the cum that leaked out despite his best efforts to keep you plugged.

There's no way I'm moving tomorrow. Maybe not even the day after.

Caleb collapses beside you, careful not to crush you with his weight, but he doesn't pull out. Instead, he adjusts your bodies so you're spooned against his chest, his cock plugging you up best he can to keep every drop of cum exactly where he put it.

For a long moment, there's nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing.

Then, so quiet you almost miss it, “Next time I leave on a long mission...” His voice is low, satisfied, “...you won't be alone.”

Your fucked out brain struggles to process his words, “Wh... what?”

His lips brush against the shell of your ear, and you can feel him smiling- but it's softer now, the aggressive edge giving way to something softer, “You'll have a little me here to keep you company.”

A little him.

The thought makes your stuffed cunt clench around his spent cock so hard that he groans.

A baby. His baby. Growing in the womb he just spent hours flooding with his seed.

He wants a family. With me. He wants-

Caleb feels your reaction, and his arms tighten around you- not possessive this time, but protective, “I thought about it the whole time I was gone,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder, “Every night in the fleet when i couldn't sleep, staring at the stars, I kept thinking... what if she gets lonely? What if she needs me and I'm not there?”

Your throat tightens with unexpected emotion, “Caleb...”

“And then I realized.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing you in like you're oxygen, “I can leave a piece of myself with you. The best piece. Someone who'll love you just as much as I do.”

You twist in his arms -a grueling effort considering your boneless state- until you're facing him, “You really want this?” you whisper, “A baby?”

“I really want you.” He cups your face- thumb brushing away a tear you didn't realize had fallen, “Forever. In every way I can have you. And yeah-“ a small, almost shy smile tugs at his lips, “-I really want to see you round with my kid. Want to come home to you both. Want to build something that's ours.”

The possessiveness is still there- you can hear it humming beneath his words, feel it in the way his arm keeps you pressed flush against him.

“Okay,” you breathe, and his whole face lights up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You press your forehead to his, smiling despite your exhaustion, “But you're changing all the diapers when you're home. Since you're so eager to fill me up.”

Your heart hammers at how needy he is. “If you want it so bad, you kiss me.” 

Without an ounce of hesitation Caleb crushes his lips to yours, tongue pushing past your opening in desperation as if he was starving for you. It is a clash of teeth and mixing of saliva as he suffocates himself against your lips, taking as much as he can get. He finally pulls away to get air, whimpering as he mouths pathetically at your bottom lip, mind too fuzzy to kiss you properly. 

The brush of your tongue against his has him panting, drool connecting the both of you as he sloppily mouths at your parted lips without thought. You smile slightly, leaning in to lock against him once more. 

Caleb’s eyes are blown wide, hazy and unfocused as he tries desperately to kiss you back, clumsily pressing his lips against yours in an attempt to keep up with you. 

Streams of whimpers and whines leave his mouth, his chest heaving as he attempts to even his breathing. “Hnng, I… pip-squeak—”

You decide to give him a break and trail your kisses down his neck to pay special attention to his bobbing Adam’s apple, smiling slyly as he tilts his head up. Shaky breaths brush your ear as he struggles to keep his composure. “Pips…I can’t…mmph…! I can’t f-focus…when you…ah!” 

Mouthing gently at his Adam’s apple, you feel Caleb’s hips buck up against you in shock. You groan, sending vibrations though his body that makes him shudder weakly. 

You’ve broken and reduced this man into a stuttering mess, but he looks like he’s exactly where he wants to be, eyes teary and head foggy as his eyes zero in on your lips. Hm… cute. 

“Wanna take me to the bedroom?”

“I…uhhh…huh?”

“Bedroom, Caleb.” 

The implication has him scrambling. “Yes…!”

“Haha, did you just cum again? So cute. You're practically cumming every time I thrust. You like it here? Hm? You like it when I rub your clit? Ah, you squeezed me so tightly.”

“Feels good, huh? Should've fucked you a long time ago if I knew you were such a whore. Every time you bent down and I saw your panties, you drove me crazy. I had to jerk off in the bathroom to calm down. If I knew you liked dick so much, I would've just had my way with you right then and there.”

“You're so messy, pips... I'm covered in your juices. Everything's so sticky. But you like it when we get dirty, right? Come on, cum. Cum, cum, cum... shit, there we go. That's a good girl. I love it when you clamp around me.”

“Stick out your tongue.”

“Mm... ngh... more... open your mouth... you taste so sweet... Wanna eat you out again...”

“Do you want it? Want my tongue licking up your wet pussy again? You came so much in just half an hour, haha. Squealing so much when I hadn't even gotten my cock inside you.”

“Mn... so good, you feel so fucking good... Your tits are bouncing each time I thrust inside, hah.”

“Do you think our neighbors heard us? Heard you screaming my name? It felt so good, right? Ah, ah... I wanna stay like this forever, just cumming inside you... Mn... You feel so good around my cock...”

“Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum again. Do you want another creampie? Huh? Gege's going to cum inside you. I'm going to cum so hard, you're gonna get knocked up.”

“Ah, hn, fuck, here it comes... gege's cumming inside... oh, fuck...!”

“Shit, my hips can't stop moving on their own— fuck, take every drop of my cum, baby— yeah, that's right, fuck!”

“Open your mouth, hn, ah... mn... ngh... This feels so good... You're so fucking sexy...”

“One more... Come on, don't pass out on me. We can't stop here, we're going all night.”

“Fuck, you're so full with my cum, it's crazy. You're so fucking hot... gege's gonna plug your hole with his cock, okay?”

“Your clit is so hard, it looks like a small dick. Feels good when I rub it, yeah?”

“Your nipples are so sensitive, lemme suck them.”

“Mn... If I suck hard enough, will milk come out? Haha, I'm just kidding.”

“Hn... ahh... so good... you're so good for me... my pretty girl... all mine... Love it when your pussy sucks my cock back in...”

“Haha, you're so loud. You really want everyone to hear us, don't you? Adam lives just beside us, you know. Poor guy's going to get jealous if he sees you bouncing on my cock. He's always had a stupid little crush on you.”

“Hm? Why would I be jealous? I'm the one fucking you right now. I'm the only one you'll be fucking from now on.”

“You liked that, didn't you? You just clenched around me so tight. Do that again, fuck...”

“Shit, princess, you're dripping all over my balls, haha. So damn messy. Since you already ruined the sheets, I'll make you cum so much, you'll turn crazy.”

“Hah, this pussy was made for me... god, you're so fucking cute...”

Hornybf! Caleb who begs you to let him fuck your thighs instead, those puppy dog eyes of his always managing to win you over.

Hornybf! Caleb who makes you wear your prettiest thigh highs and lays you down on top of him with your back pressed against his chest.

Hornybf! Caleb who begins to slowly thrust between your thighs, parting your folds with each stroke as the fat head of his dick pokes through them.

Hornybf! Caleb who moves his hands to your hipbones to push your hips down and holds you in place, to make sure your soft, slippery cunt drags over every inch of his cock.

Hornybf!Caleb who teases your clit with his fingers, rubbing slow circles that make your hips buck and your thighs squeeze tighter around him.

Hornybf!Caleb who knows when you are close and instead of continuing to tease your clit with his fingers, he focuses on giving you a softer friction, using the flushed, swollen head of his cock again to rub against the throbbing bud after coating himself in your arousal and his own precum.

Hornybf! Caleb who groans against your neck when he feels your walls flutter just around the tip of his cock as he sinks it inside you. Spreading your legs and reaching between them to give his dick a few firm strokes, milking his own release.

Hornybf! Caleb who, once he's caught his breath, begs you to let him do it again. Promising this time he will cum all over your pretty clit.

—

Hornybf!Caleb who delights in teasing you before penetration. Making you drag your wet pussy along his length, obsessed with the sight of your glistening, puffy lips spreading around his cock and your cute clit being pushed upwards every time you move back down.

Hornybf! Caleb who has an intense love for the taste of your cunt. He spends hours feasting between your legs, tonguing and spitting on your pussy until it's drenched in his saliva and your arousal. He enjoys the flavor of it so much that he slurps the frothy blend and spatters it back repeatedly.

Hornybf! Caleb who doesn't miss an opportunity to fuck you, even when he works from home. He positions you under his desk on your knees, manspreading so his cock aligns perfectly with your pussy. You are left to fuck yourself on his dick while he focuses on his work, sneaking glances at the sight of your tight hole being speared open on his lenght. Occasionally, he drags a finger along the milky ring at the base of his cock, sucking it into his mouth to taste.

Hornybf! Caleb who prefers the 69 position over you being on your knees to give him head. Wanting you to be comfortable while sucking his dick, aaaaand he gets to simultaneously eat your pussy and ass while you suffocate him with your soft thighs.

Hornybf! Caleb whose favorite pastime is dry humping, especially when you wear his favorite yellow panties adorned with that tiny apple print positioned perfectly over your clit. Boxers leaking pearly sticky cum when he moves your hips just right over his cock.

Hornybf! Caleb who turns feral by the sight of your tummy bulging when he fucks you hard and deep. Pressing on your belly to feel the outline of his cock moving inside you. This drives him to fuck you even harder, making you squirt and gush all over his abs and balls as you cum on his fat dick.

Hornybf! Caleb who eagerly complies when you ask him to show you how he used to masturbate before you started your relationship. In a surprising and arousing move, Caleb grabs the panties you were wearing and brings them to his nose, deeply inhaling. As he does so, he begins to stroke his length, the sweet smell of your panties triggering a flood of lustful memories and fantasies.