My secret obsession

he should’ve known that you only wanted to toy with him. he’d felt the intent in the heavy air of your summons hours ago, should’ve known from the — of it; that he was brought here solely for your amusement, the lord of a mighty nation reduced to a plaything at your absolute liberty. 

it all began when you first approached him that morning. he’d just emerged— well, more like escaped, from an endlessly grueling advisory meeting. a bundle of scrolls was gathered tightly in one large hand while the other palm dragged tiredly over his face. 

that’s when you swept by him, as graceful as the water you bend. you attached yourself to his side, arms looping securely around his bicep. even through the heavy drape of his robes, his arm was impressively thick, deliciously solid. you pressed flush against him, acutely aware of the broad, dense muscle packed beneath crimson silk — all that raw strength hidden under royal finery. 

zuko paused, his gaze dropping to meet yours beneath the shadowy fringe of his dark lashes. the faint curve of a rare smile reached his mouth, just as the tight ache in his shoulders melted away upon your touch. he shifted the scrolls to tuck his arm closer to yours, leaning heavily into the sweet, intoxicating draft of your perfume. more often than not, he’s completely yielding to you, letting your warmth drape over him. 

“are you here to rescue me, or do you simply wish to distract the fire lord?” he murmured, his voice a low, resonant rumble. you catch the embedded sound of something almost playful.

“oh please, dear. why can’t it be both?” you merely hummed, melting into the furnace that is his solid frame. you loved traversing the palace’s endless halls just to catch sight of your regal husband. what a magnificent vision of royalty he was — adorned in deep mahogany and gold, all broad and powerful with a presence so commanding. your mirthful eyes devoured his sharp, handsome features, tracing the stark border of his crimson scar, framed by rich dark hair that cascaded past his shoulder plates, spilling in silky waves all the way down his back. god, you loved him entirely. 

with a saccharine smile, you leaned up on your toes, pressing flush against the breadth of his chest while your soft lips grazed the sensitive shell of his good ear. "meet me in our bedchambers come nightfall," you cooed softly against his jaw, your voice dripping with sweet mischief while your fingers trailed down the rich silk of his sleeve. 

"i have a special . . . surprise for you, but only if you're a good fire-lord and finish attending to your duties first." 

zuko’s breath hitched, his arm tightening instinctively around your waist to keep you close. "a surprise?" he echoed, his voice dropping into a rough, low register that sent a thrill straight through you. "my love, I . . . you know I have a day's worth of scrolls to sign.” 

"then I suggest you read quickly, my lord.” you try to slip away, but he holds you fast, his fastened palm a tether too tight to break from. 

"wait — what do you have in store?" he murmured, a desperate curiosity bleeding into his low tone as his towering frame cast a shadow over yours; his mouth just barely grazing your own, catching the lifting tilt of your smile. 

"just come, silly," you countered softly, pressing a sweetly addictive kiss to melt the corners of his stubborn frown. "you’ll find out soon enough." was your breathed whisper against his warm skin, letting the words ghost over his angled jaw. you gave his bicep one last, lingering squeeze before stepping back out of his embrace, dreamily drifting away down the sunlit hall. 

behind you, zuko stood completely and utterly undone in the middle of the open corridor. the absolute master of fire, now left in a lovedrunk daze — his lips slightly parted, tinted with the residual paint of your favorite hue, while an involuntary flush bloomed rosy-pink across his pale cheeks. you deserted him there, a blushing king caught in the sweet wreckage of a simple kiss. 

vitalized by your promise of a surprise and eager to reunite with you once more, he’d spent the next handful of hours tearing through his duties with a fierce determination. he signed the scrolls required of him, and scattered the ones that only proved to be a waste of his limited time; the rest he bound in delicate thread and sealed with hot, red wax.

before finally abandoning his desk, he bound half of his long dark hair away from his face. zuko stood hunched over the basin, meticulously scrubbing every trace of black ink from the ulnar sides of his palms. he wanted his hands perfectly clean, for he knew he’d be touching you tonight— and thoroughly. 

. . .

a quiet tension blankets the northern palace, but still, you can hear your husband’s approach from the moment he crosses the threshold of the inner court. his heavy, looming footsteps echo down the polished red-lacquer corridors, drawing close, and closer, even closer; vibrating through the screen walls of your quarters until your chest thrums with the rhythm of his arrival. 

zuko walks with an agonizing anticipation, one he can barely hide. every step is a losing battle against the dull ache beneath his imperial belt, a demanding throb that’s grown unbearable after hours of sitting rigid at his oakwood desk. it’s been pooling low in his abdomen since he encountered you that morning — a shameful lust he’d tried to fight off with every scroll he signed. through the thick fabric of his robes, his palm now subtly shifts over the heavy silk, desperately rubbing at his growing bulge. 

inside the room, you're practically vibrating atop your embroidered stool, your heart hammering against your ribs as a manic energy buzzes beneath your skin. the soft rattle of the sliding track warns you that he’s here. with a sudden breath, you hastily force your posture to align into an image of serene normalcy just as the door slowly parts. 

zuko steps fully into the room, the heavy wooden door sliding shut behind him, sealing the two of you in a sudden, suffocating quiet. thick, electric air blankets the bedchamber, dense with the weight of all your unsaid promises. zuko stands by the threshold, his chest rising and falling beneath his heavy imperial pauldrons. 

you turn slightly on your carved rosewood stool, an eager gleam flashing in your vibrant eyes as your gaze rises to meet his in own the reflection of the bronze mirror — his golden eyes are lidded from the weight of the crown, darkened with a bone-deep exhaustion; yet they continue to burn with this fierce, ravenous hunger. in return, he catches the iridescent gleam in your own irises, bright as chilling polar ice. 

a knowing smile touches your freshly painted lips, eager azure eyes catching the way zuko’s throat bobs as his line of vision trails down to your body. he knows exactly what you’re wearing beneath that lengthy, translucent cerulean night robe; or rather, the lack thereof. the sheer silk flows effortlessly over your curves, much like the cresting liquid waves of your frozen home. he finds it to be a refreshing distinction from the stifling heat of his world. 

he’d touched the frosty surface of your shores almost two years ago, arriving by sovereign ship to the southwestern water tribe. you were a mere princess back then, watching enthusiastically from the shadows as he formally navigated talk of a peace pact with your mother and father, the chieftains of the west. you only knew of the fire-lord through word of mouth, but seeing him in person was ever so different. 

from the very moment you laid eyes on him, zuko's stark contrast to your world — honeyed eyes, shockingly fair skin, rugged scar, and vivid red clothes, had you completely enraptured. his domineering, yet calm presence drew you in without effort. you adored the helpless way he would flush a deep red whenever you giggled and waved at him, entirely undoing his rigid, royal posture. nevertheless, your flirting persisted, despite his sheepish reactions and your father’s protective concerns. 

one day, speaking up boldly from the back of an icy council room, you had ultimately proposed a much brighter solution for a unifying pact; a royal marriage.

much to his nation's surprise, the fire lord unexpectedly returned from those frozen lands with water-bending royalty in tow. after discovering your shared goals for your peoples, you and zuko chose to bridge your countries and cultures alike in holy matrimony. both your economies have flourished and cross-national peace has ensued ever since the royal coupling over half a year ago.

it’s been quite some time, but you still feel like newlyweds — and you surely consummate like ones. 

even now, living deep within a crimson palace and married to the master of fire himself, you fill zuko with a reverent awe. he loves how you wear your ancestral blues and carry your culture with such a dignified pride.

an ethereal woman you are, daughter of the ocean who chose to bind herself to a man of the flame. and looking at you now, dolling yourself up at your luxury vanity, content within his palace you truly made feel like a home, he's desperate for even a drop from your sea. 

your husband wordlessly, finally, draws near and closes the distance, enveloping you from behind in a sweltering embrace. his heavy, muscular arms are strewn effortlessly over your shoulders from where you sit. a soft smile blooms on your lips at his sudden presence, quiet giggles slipping past your mouth when he presses a warm, lingering kiss to your temple. 

through the glass of the mirror, zuko catches your reflection. his gold eyes soften, completely drinking you in; from your sweet smile, your intricately dark woven hair, to your warm skin and those crystalline eyes that sparkle like rare sapphires . . . you are, without question, the most breathtaking woman he’s ever known. he nuzzles closer, cheek touching yours until there's no remainder of space left between you, both of your gazes locked onto the beautifully reflected image of husband and wife. 

“said you had a surprise for me. is that right, my queen?” he coos against your jaw, though his arms tighten around you, all longing and possessive. you return an excited hum, eyes twinkling in the mirror.

“i certainly do! it’s in here . . . hm. well, somewhere,” you swivel towards the drawers of your rosewood vanity to rummage through cosmetic items he can’t even begin to name. he leans over to steal a peek, long dark hair swaying over his shoulder, but you catch him right in the act. 

zuko looks ever so precious with his golden eyes blown wide, large hands thrown out in absolute surrender. you almost begin to feel bad; he watches you with such hunger, wholly unassuming of the cruel games you have planned — how hopelessly you’re going to tease him into submission until the break of dawn. 

“no peeking, my lord!” you tease, a playful push against his bicep guiding him around. zuko complies with your touch and shuffles the other way, helpless against the subtle flutter of anticipation brewing low in his belly.

you turn back to your drawers and resume the search, rifling through perfume bottles and jewelry cushions of all sorts while your voice softens into sweet instruction. 

“you’ll have to do something for me, zuko.”

“please, my sweet . . . haven’t I already done what’s required of me?” he audibly groans, a breathless plea as he fights the growing urge to steal a glance. a quiet laugh escapes you at the rare, unguarded youthfulness he only ever reveals in your presence. a tender ache swells in your chest at how he allows his entire guard to drop in your hands. 

“those scrolls? please, my love. that’s what the nation requires of you,” you unceremoniously discard the contents of your drawer, sending a careless flurry of trinkets tumbling out into the open.

he swiftly dodges the chaotic rain of your belongings flying by. a jade hairclip cutting through the air, a heavy paddlebrush following close behind — and then, in a flash, the mesh slip of a red, translucent lace. a sudden memory hits him, forever seared into the deepest crook of his mind; him peeling that very pair off of you with his teeth just a fortnight ago . . . 

“what i expect from my husband is quite a bit different.” you lean into the word with a certain pride, making zuko’s heart skip a fierce, joyous beat. a wave of devotion washes over him; he's more than proud to bear that title for you, proud to hold you as his treasured, although entirely demanding, wife.

you've always been a particular woman, one of specific tastes, and it’s a beautiful puzzle zuko delights in solving. there's a secret, intoxicating thrill he gets in meeting your standards — to provide your every need, protect your joy with his life, deliver exactly what you desire and know he got it right.

he hangs on the silence between you, feeling the sudden shift the moment your breath catches in a soft, triumphant 'ah-hah! ' 

“zuko, my dear . . .” you sweetly begin, rising from your seat and keeping the mysterious surprise safely tucked behind your back. the long, elegant sway of your regal sleeves drapes around you like that of curtains, hiding it all the more. he sways sideways, trying to peer past the silk and catch a glimpse, but you tilt playfully and dance along with him — a brief, silly game you cut short with a soft command: 

“disrobe.” 

his single right brow lifts, a playful ember dancing in his golden eyes as he observes in your expression. he finds no hesitation. 

“you want me to . . . undress?”

“swiftly, please.” 

a rich laugh vibrates in his chest, tickled by the sudden authority in your voice. ever your willing subject, he begins to shed every heavy layer piece by piece; unpeeling his garments and letting the royal finery pool around his feet one by one. intimacy with you isn't something zuko shrinks from, no — he craves it, a sweet but rare indulgence that comes only in stolen hours between the endless distractions of ruling a proud and zealous empire.

your eyes glisten, lingering on the display as he unburdens his shoulders. the heavy pads drop, then he unties and parts his thick robes. zuko sheds the weight of the crown until he stands in nothing but simple trousers and a loose, unfastened vest of deep garnet lined with a gold-spun trim. his biceps knot and flex as his fingers catch the hem to pull his arms out the sleeves, and that’s just when your hand reaches out to stop him. 

“that’s more than enough. you’re doing good, zu. now, sit on the bed.” you take pleasure in his absolute obedience as he plops down at the edge of the frame, his weight sinking into the edge of the mattress. your voice drops to a teasing murmur as you deliver the final rule: 

“close your eyes — and don’t you open them!”

trapped in the dark and blind to your movements, zuko relies entirely on the sounds bleeding into his good ear; the whispered rustle of your airy clothes, the quiet scuffle of your feet as you slip into his blind spot. then comes a touch — a cool, frictionless material of some sort loops around his wrists before the tension pulls tight, his pulse jumping against the fabric as you knot the tail-end to the wooden bedpost. satisfied, you wind the red silk around him, binding him entirely to your whim. 

“okay, zuko. now you can look.” 

fluttered lids part to reveal his golden gaze, peering down as the world comes back into focus. a breath hitches in his throat at the sight of the rich crimson binding him to the frame.

reflexively, he gives a sharp, disbelieving tug at the fabric, a stunned laugh slipping past his parted lips. 

“what is this?” he breathes, his voice a bewildered rumble as he looks from the red silk up to you. 

“remember my dress fitting the other day, love?” 

“I, uh . . I believe so, yes?” zuko stammers, but his answer is more of a question within itself. a helpless flush stains his cheeks while his mind scrambles, wondering what on earth a simple fitting could possibly have to do with the trap of silk biting into his wrists. 

for months, the bitter court officials had bled their grievances into the palace halls, viewing your constant wearing of blue as a slap to the throne, an insult to the nation itself. you've heard their whispers; that your water-tribe attire is simply loud rebellion, a stain on the fire lord’s court. to appease the crown, you gave them their compromises — wearing their scarlet silks to grand meetings and vibrant festivals, but your daily wear remained with the colors of your home. 

when their nagging finally became too loud to ignore, you stepped into the fitting they had arranged, letting them attempt to mold you into a ‘ proper ’ fire-lady. under the cinch of their measuring tapes, you found a secret comfort knowing that zuko not only loved you, but worshipped the ground you walked on, irregardless of the threads on your back. if anything, he preferred the blue, captivated by your beautiful stubbornness they could never burn away. 

“so, they had the most dazzling assortment of silks, just marvelous. i saw such a rich shade of red, it shimmered like rubies . . . anyway, it reminded me of you! and, well, it obviously gave me other ideas.” 

a low, helpless chuckle rumbles in zuko's chest, his golden eyes crinkling with absolute adoration at your sudden rambling. even pinned to the bed frame, he's still entirely captive to the chaos of your charming thoughts, flattered to be the center of them.

“this,” he gestures towards his confines, his bicep tightening as he pulls experimentally against the silk, “is your idea?” a dark ember of amusement flares in his right eye, challenging your authority even as he willingly surrenders to it. 

“patience, husband,” you coo, rising to your feet to close the distance between you. “you’ll see.” you bring a thin strip of the same colored silk up to his face, gently drawing it across his brow. the fleeting warmth of your sweet smile is the last thing he catches before all his vision is stolen away — plunging his senses into a blotted world of unintelligible red. trapped in the thick, crimson dark, he settles into his restraints with a quiet sigh. 

. . .

that’s how the fire lord finds himself entirely bound — captured effortlessly by the one woman he would never, in his wildest dreams, desire to escape from.

around you, the grand bedchambers glow with traditional finery, bathed in shades of warm orange, pristine gold, and burning red. the drawn-open windows invite the moon’s silvered light to spill through flowing gossamer curtains, blessing your union of water and fire. 

but the gentle peace of the night dissolves the moment you shatter the quiet.

still bound to the frame of your shared bed, zuko tests the limits of his confines, a low groan escaping him as he tugs at the fiery crimson ribbon. a restless prisoner, he is, playing into the torment of your game — for a time. he always indulges his darling wife, but only for now. minutes long since passed; several long, countless ones. 

and the wait is finally managing to break him. he sits trembling on the edge of the mattress, staring up at you through a hazy, amber-yellow gaze; blindfold long since fallen, and his vest halfway discarded while it hangs over the round of one brawny shoulder. a teasing smile graces your lips as you lean in, catching his lifted chin with the delicate edge of your manicured finger to lock his eyes with yours. 

your sweet excuse for trapping his wrists had been that his crowned duties have left him far too tense; and what he desperately needed was to dissolve into your cool touch, even if he didn’t know it himself. but as your fingers drifted from the edge of his chin to settle heavily in his lap, the promise of relaxation shifted into the purest form of torment. the clock has fractured into an unmerciful blur. was it twenty minutes? thirty, forty? 

zuko loses all track and meaning of the time that follows. he can't tell, nor can he bring himself to care — not when you spend every agonizing second stroking his weeping cock so painfully slow. you know just when to alter your speed, bringing him to the absolute precipice just to rip it all away. 

it was pure torture when the red silk kept him blind to it; you know how much he loves the sight of his fat cock within your dainty hand, almost too thick for your fingers to touch around it. the last ruined orgasm had been paced so brutally fast, skin shlick-ing with every stroke. the wet, rhythmic sound of your hand jerking him off left dull, wet smacks filling the room until his body was twitching — and as he nearly arrived at his peak, the red satin eventually slipped down his face. when you finally locked eyes, he’d almost been crying . . . almost.

“hnghh, no, no, no, please— not again . . i beg you, my queen, just let me cum for you—fuck!” 

the words melt into a breathless plea as his pelvis strains upward, starving for even the slightest graze of your palm. his hips give a desperate involuntary buck, chasing the ghosting pleasure of your friction, but you hold the line; hand going completely still.

a dark, heavy whimper vibrates deep in zuko’s chest, a sound so beautifully broken it nearly falters your resolve. but not quite. his climax is ruined yet again, the fifth unmerciful theft of the night, and his entire frame shudders with a deep, aching fatigue as he reaches the absolute limit of your torment.

thanks to your doing, he’s now you in complete disarray — scattered hair falling wildly over his eyes, his sweat-sheen chest heaving with every ragged breath, powerful arms bound to the bedposts at the mercy of your every sinister whim. he can’t fucking stand being unable to touch you.

“i did what you asked,” zuko says bluntly, his voice clipped and raw. his amber gaze burns dark, hopelessly locked onto the sheer blue fabric draping carelessly over the bare expanse of your brown thighs. “I finished my duties . . I am here, yet you tease me.” 

“you sound rather impatient, zuko,” you hum, your manicured finger tracing a slow, agonizing circle over the sticky, weeping crown of his sensitive cockhead, delighting in the way he quivers. “tell me, my love . . . is the fire lord begging?” 

zuko's jaw tightens, the flexor muscle of his wrists tensing against the silk of his confines. “I w-wasn’t begging,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave into a rough, raspy lower register. “please, just . . . tell me what you want from me. i’ll do anything, just let me—” he breaks off with a rough swallow, and the words die in his throat.

you let out a content hum, moved by how completely unraveled he’s become, just for you. you slide your body flush against his, letting the cool cerulean silk of your dress drag over his burning thighs. “anything I want, huh?” you murmur against his lips, teasing him with a ghost of a kiss. a desperate nod escapes him, the unraveled strands of his hair swaying with the motion. 

“well, i'm about to tease some more, so I need you to stay absolutely still for it.” 

a dark realization dawns upon the fire lord; he never knew his darling wife held such a sadistic streak. he silently mourns the countless times he could have made you cum by now.

“thought we'd be . . pleasing one another tonight,” he mumbles, chest heaving. the plush bow of your lips curve into a slow, knowing grin, your gaze dropping to the lewd display of his twitching dick before you reply, “but i’m enjoying the sight of you like this. you have no idea how much it satisfies me, love . . . do you not want to please your wife?” 

“hah, you're a sly woman when you wish to be.” a pained, breathless laugh escapes him, his rigid length twitching helplessly between his thighs. the sweltering heat of his blood chills slightly against the open air of the room, a brief, phantom relief. “you know I need more from you.” 

“I think what you need, zuko, is to cool down.”

“what I need is to cu—”

“don’t worry, my love.” you cut off his breathless demand with a soft, shushing hum. your palm cradles his jaw as you smooth out his unraveled hair, your lips catching the heat of his skin as you press a kiss to his sweating temple. “I have just the thing.” 

in that very moment, you decide to shift the game and draw upon an element of your own. zuko’s no mere stranger to adding a heavy scorch to the bedroom, and the sweltering effect of his bending is never anything you can't handle or easily heal with your own two hands. tonight, you see no harm in turning the tables.

your focus shifts to the nearby glass pitcher, siphoning a liquid ribbon into the air. with a sharp twist of your wrist, the droplets solidify, crystallizing into smooth, firm blocks of ice. 

before he can utter a word, you plant the frozen ice against his bare skin with intention. one block rests at the divot of his lighting-scarred solar plexus, and another the subtle dip between his thick, firm pecs, while the third one slides smoothly down the rippled plane of his abs. with a flick of your will, a final piece glides across the delicate ridge of his collarbone. as the ice begins to melt atop his heated skin, the thawed water tracks down his torso, pooling at his pelvis until it drips heavily down his cock. 

a full-body shudders wracks zuko's frame as the sudden cold slides down the throbbing length of him. the ice cubes glide over his flesh, weeping condensed streams of melted water that dribble down his muscled form. the natural heat of his body takes over to act as a forge; with a subtle hiss, the water sizzles against his skin, instantly evaporating into a misted steam that lifts in lazy, curled wisps off his bare chest. it's an instinctive reaction — like splashing lukewarm water directly onto lava-hot coal.

“are you cooling down already, husband?”

“hah, please . . did you think it would be— mm, t-that easy?”

as he predicted, the frost doesn't last. the water won’t stand much of a chance against the fever of his skin. 

the fever-heat of his skin conquers the cold in seconds, rendering the ice useless against his burning flesh. a slow smile curves your lips at the realization, prompting a sudden shift in your approach; to fight fire with fire. a flame, you might not have, but you can always trade your element for the raw heat of your own body.

dropping low, your robe pools around your ankles as you settle between his parted, muscled legs. your palms anchor securely against the warm caps of his knees, pinning his attention. locking your gaze with his hazy gold eyes, your tongue slowly glides across the tip, collecting the warm salt of his precum as your lips part to swallow him into the pliant opening of your wet mouth. 

“— ohhh, fuck.”

beneath folded legs, you feel your clit throb against the heel of your foot in response to the rough moan that practically vibrates straight from his chest and down into your throat. you pull back enough to loll your tongue out, swiping it slow and wet across his reddened, weeping tip. your crystalline eyes are lively, full of mirth as you hold him captive under your stare. zuko’s amber gaze squeezes shut at the sudden onslaught of your tongue, a sharp hiss catching in his throat.

“so naughty, baby . . .” he groans, "gonna keep me here all night, hm? punish me?” 

“it isn’t a punishment, zuko,” you break the contact with a soft pop, a sliver of saliva tethering your lips to him. the words leave you breathlessly, trailing off your tongue like the sweet, contoured sound of half a moan. “i jus’ wanna play with you. don’t you wanna play with me?” 

“I would if I could,” he manages to choke out, teeth gnawing hard on his lower lip whenever your tongue swirls back under the ridge of his spit-streaked cock. “y—you’re the one who doesn’t wanna play fair. I didn’t tie myself up, now did I?” 

you drink in the ragged heave of his chest beneath the garnet vest, the tensive muscles of his forearms bunching hard against his constraints. the sheer intrigue of his submission intoxicates you, and a wicked thrill sparks within you at the thought of it — how delicious it would be to have him whining, crying for you, completely unraveled as he tugs fruitlessly against the red satin.

“I should punish you, now that you mention it,” you muse, drawing back just enough to catch your breath while your palm strokes a slow, wet path down his pulsing dick. 

before he can manage out an answer, you dive back down again, burying his thickness to the very hilt until the tip of it hits the back of your constricting throat. you have him swallowed to the base, so much so that your senses are entirely overcome; your husband is the only thing left to taste, to smell, to breathe. a faint, involuntary tinge of smoke permeates the air as his internal fire flares in shock. 

 “shit! you’re s—so bad,” zuko heaves, his muscled arms straining powerlessly against withering ribbon. 

“am I?” you wipe a wet shine of moisture away from your plush, spit-streaked lips with the back of your hand, rising slowly to your feet. zuko’s darkened gaze follows you, his heart hammering against his ribs as he realizes exactly where you’re steering this game. you had already unburdened him of his trousers and reduced him to that open vest, and now you're matching his nakedness with your own. 

slowly, you unloop your robes and step out of your soft blue silk, letting the cerulean fabric carelessly drop away. you step onto the mattress to mount him, completely stripped— your legs throwing themselves over to bracket his wide, meaty thighs as you straddle his lap, the your bare mound of your cunt sliding a mess of arousal over the hardness of him, cock jumping at the brush of hot, wet skin.

“you are troublesome, wife,” zuko manages out through grit teeth, his jaw dropping as his head tilts down to watch the exact moment you sink onto him. you settle over every wide, throbbing inch until you've taken the entirety of him into the tight, melting warmth of your creamy cunt.

“hngh, and you should . . . s—stay still,” you mewl, your teeth sinking into your own plush lip while your nails dig deep crescents into the solid breadth of his broad shoulders.

you lift yourself up, slow and agonizingly careful, before letting gravity drop you back down onto the raw entirety of his length. a shared moan tears from your throats at the impact, your bodies pulsing deliriously around one another. zuko has always been a massive stretch, so you shift into slow, shallow rolls of your hips, taking in the immense width of him until the initial, stinging burn begins to ebb away.

“untie me.”

“mm— noooo, zuko . . .” you both know that entirely defeats the purpose. 

“can’t believe you’re— fuck —doing this to me,” zuko groans, his patience finally shattering as he rocks his hips upward beneath you. the sudden, deep shift of his length inside you forces a pitched whine from your throat. he's reached his absolute limit, both with these confines and his own composure — starved of your touch, driven mad by the sight of his beautiful goddess of a wife bouncing on his cock while his hands remain pathetically, incapably pinned.

glaring down with pure disdain at the obstacle of fabric cutting into his straining wrists, the fire lord decides that your lengthy game is over. 

with carefully exerted bending, he coaxes just the slightest spouts of fire out of his warmed palms, letting the heat of a focused spark catch onto the crimson silk until it begins to catch in flames.

you're so caught in the intensity of riding him that the change goes unnoticed, until the scent of smoke reaches you; fire. your eyes snap open to see the speckled remnants of inflamed fabric and ash dissipating up into the air in burning, golden specks. 

“z—zuko!” you whine, just as he rubs his wrists where they were bound. an anxious laugh leaves you once the realization settles in; the constraints are gone, and he's no longer bound by your rules. now that he’s freed, you know he’ll have his way with you. when you meet his eyes, it concludes that the game is over, and he’s won. he peers at you with a dangerous, burning hunger, like that of a fucking predator. 

“what shall I do with you . . .” the fire lord muses, “now that i’m free?” you aren't able to argue, or comply. there simply isn't any time. 

he loops a strong, thick forearm around your waist, pulls you flush to the solid wall of his body, full breasts squished to his broad pecs, your peaked nipples grazing his chest in a way that makes you shudder against him. he tightens his hold around your middle, hot fingers stroking down the curve of your spine. 

then, the roots take hold with a searing, digging grip.

“start bouncing.” 

frozen by the shock of his freedom, you hesitate — and your husband immediately claims the movement to take absolute hold of you. his hot fingers cling to the soft flesh of your waist, and he wastes no time lifting your hips, hoisting you up only to drop you back onto his erect cock.

the loudest moan of the night slips from your throat — a bruised, sweet thing that sounds something like a whine, and half like a wail. it's pure nectar to him, so saccharine to him. zuko leans into the sound, aiming to pry out so much more.

he sets a brutal, drilling pace from beneath you, bucking upward to crash against the rise and fall of your pliant body, all as his hands slink up to give your bouncing breasts a thorough squeeze. his firm hips piston up to meet you with relentless, driving thrusts as he forces your weight to slam down hard against his own. 

all you can do is cry out through every heavy drag of his fat cock within you. a vulnerable whimper escapes your lips, arms looped tightly around his neck, fingers dig frantically into his skin for any semblance of an anchor while the girth of him stretches you out with every upwards surge of his tilting hips. your tongue lolls out to trace the slick heat of his throat, dragging slow and wet up the line of his perfect jaw. you press your lips against the thick vein pulsing in his neck; pulled taut from all the raw energy he exerts into fucking himself deep inside you.

“you win . . . fu—fuck, zu, y-you win,” you whine, the globes of your ass jiggling helplessly against his pounding. “zuko, p-please, too fast— you’re too fast, my love . . . i can’t — hngh!” 

a dark, gravelly laugh vibrates right against your throat, his hot pulse hammering against your chest. “oh, no. you don't get to call a timeout,” he grunts out, a rough, commanding rumble that cuts straight through your whines as he watches your face unravel — lips agape, eyes welled up with precious tears. his thick forearm locks tighter around your waist as his pelvis crashes up into yours with unmerciful force, giving you absolutely no room to breathe. “you wanted to play, yes?" more than anything, he'd consider it provocation.

"so don’t scream for a 'slow down' now — take it. it's all for you.” 

before your lungs can even claim their next breath, zuko slides out of you entirely; having decided you deserve it much rougher for the constraints you placed upon him. a small pout touches your lips at the sudden ache of his absence, but the fire lord pays your frustration no mind. he's far too focused on delivering the consequences of your little stunt. 

effortlessly, his heavy palms flip you over and guide you flat onto your tummy — your lower back dipping into a sharp, deep curve that hoists your hips high into the air; the most perfect arch. left exposed and shivering with anticipation, your ass impetuously wiggles against the heavy bob of his waiting erection, desperate to feel him. a low, raspy chuckle vibrates in his throat, deeply satisfied by the hunger that now consumes you; just as it did him. 

“you want it? huh?” he lilts, his breath hot against your skin as he deliberately presses the crown of his cock to your opening. instead of sinking inside, he slides around your fluttering pussy, dragging the thick, veiny underside over your rear.

he taps the sticky crown of his cock against the soft flesh of your supple ass cheeks, a deliberate, maddening friction that denies you the very thing you're begging for. a dry laugh catches in his throat as your posture shudders utterly reveling in the sweet, broken whines that spill past your lips at the torment.  maybe now you'll get it. you're only feeling a fraction of what you put him through.

“n—need it so bad, d-don’t tease, husband . . .”

“of course, my sweetness.” his voice is a low, deceptive whisper right before his hips crash forward. it's downright mean, how he pushes inside you with a sudden, ruthless depth. zuko stuffs every last inch of him to the absolute hilt, done so viciously that the air is knocked clean from your lungs. your chest heaves against the mattress, voice cracking into broken, stuttered pieces as his name shatters throughout the room, like that of a priceless gloss vase.

“zuko, s’deep — y-you’re so . . so deeeeep,”

“hm . . what was that?” zuko murmurs out feigned ignorance, his wide palm flattening against the small of your back to enforce a deeper, sharper curve to your spine. the visceral slap of skin on skin rings out like thunder with every punishing smack, a lewd tempo that fills the grand bedchambers — a thick, sweltering sound so loud you're certain the advisors and palace maids a world away could easily track the . . . scandalous nature of your night. 

“zu—zu-ahh . . z—ukooo!”

“is that how you properly address your husband?” he taunts, his voice a low rumble as he bites back a growing smile. the damp end of his tongue flits out, lazily running across the edge of aligned teeth, “how you address the fire lord?”

“p-pleaseeee—” before the word can fully escape you, zuko answers your whine by stalling his momentum, feeding you long, agonizingly slow strokes. with every deliberate thrust, your body is throttled forward, melting deep into the crimson bed as you lose all coordination. a helpless sob catches in your throat, your drooling mouth agape against the mahogany bedding as you take the full, thick mass of him in slow motion, his damp skin dragging within yours. his pelvis presses hard against your ass, the heavy stickiness of his balls tapping your puffy slit

“d-do . . . mmph, wh—whatever you want." you exhale through a whining plea, weight sinking into the foam of the bamboo mattress. maybe if you appease him, stroke his ego, he'll take it easy on you. "p-punish me, zu . . . please, jus' punish me.” 

“and get you off so quickly? impatient little thing,” he only tsks, his hand comes down hard against your backside. the reddening sting forces out your small gasp. “you're not cumming until I deem it fit.”

zuko shifts his weight, sliding his stance closer until his torso pins your back flat against the mattress. leaning his upper body forward over your shoulder, his arm snakes around to trap you by the sensitive curve of your throat. he loops the thick, solid crook of his elbow right beneath your chin, pressing the rounded meat of his massive forearm against your windpipe.

with an deliberate flex, he brings about a deliciously suffocating squeeze. your throat is locked tight in the vice of his strength, constricting your oxygen until your lungs begin to burn hollow from the desperate lack of it. unable to draw a clean breath, every heavy push of his length inside you makes him feel twice as thick. 

the room spins into hazy blur, making you acutely aware of how his unhurriedly he drags inside you; stretching you out in agonizing slow motion while you choke out muffled, desperate whines against the crushing authority of his arm.

he fucks into you slowly from behind, his large frame completely curled over your spine while he holds you trapped in the thick vice of his headlock. you helplessly muffle your whimpers and drool all over the solid breadth of his meaty, flexing bicep. from above, the fire lord ignores the chaos of the room to simply stare down at your face, a wave of profound adoration breaking across his features for third time today, because you belong entirely to him — his pretty, precious baby.

“that’s what it takes for you to act right?” zuko huffs out an incredulous laugh, “you’re finally being so good, love . . . taking me so fucking well.” the words are thick with an intoxicating pride as his warmed breath dusts your cheek. never does it come with one, but without warning, his palm delivers another sharp, loving smack to your right cheek, leaving a trailing sting that audibly sizzles against your damp skin. before another sound can fully leave your throat, his lips drop lower, a searing kiss pressed possessively to the very base of your neck, the curve of your spine, the crown of your hair. in every aspect, he consumes you.

you're balanced precariously on the absolute edge, and zuko can tell. your vision begins to spot, your entire frame stringing tense and your mind going beautifully dumb the exact moment you finally release your sweet, gushing juices all over him. eyes brimming over with heavy gemmed tears, he fucks you thoroughly through the crash of your orgasm; rocking deep into the stubborn squeeze of your convulsing pussy.

zuko's rigid and twitching inside you, his amplified volume matching the gradually careless rhythm of his thrusts. a rough groan tears from his throat as he openly relishes the slick, heavy friction of his veins dragging wet and sloppy from deep within your walls. even with the lingering shock of your own orgasm, it's clear to you that he’s soon to follow suit. truthfully, you're amazed that he managed to hold out up until now; though, not for much longer.

“you’re being so good to me, sweetness . . . letting it all go just for your husband, cumming all over me . . . ooh, you’re making me feel too fucking good, can’t hold back anymore — i'm next, my love, m’right behind you — fffuck.”

you can feel the very heat of his seed flooding your inner walls as he cums hard and deep, muttering jumbled obscenities out into the humid air. misted puffs of smoke curl past his agape lips along the calls of your name. his hips give a final, desperate jerk, his throbbing cock spouting thick ribbons of white until he’s completely drained himself inside you. 

his chest heaves, glistening in the low orange lighting as he settles beside you, his hands instantly shifting to trace soothing, balmy circles over the flesh he so ruthlessly manhandled. a quiet moan escapes your lips, your dazed body sinking into the scrunched, damp bedding as his touch releases your strung muscles. the cooling sweat on your brow makes you shiver, while the deep, deep ache from being so thoroughly stretched begins to settle into your bones.

you give a small, helpless whine when his fingers find a particularly sensitive spot, his touch a tender mercy. you know, of course you do that you are covered in the visual evidence of his hunger, but you choose to pay the marks no mind until the sun rises. after all, your ladies-in-waiting are far too used to seeing the fire lord’s signature handprints painted across your skin when they wash you in the morning.

his chest heaves in the dark as he settles beside you, his hands instantly shifting from manhandling to tracing soothing circles over the skin of your body he so ruthlessly possessed. you let out a soft, trailing moan, your dazed body sinking into the scrunched, damp bedding as his touch unties your muscles. the cooling sweat on your brow makes you shiver, while the deep, deep ache from being so thoroughly filled and stretched, in all those creative positions, begins to settle into your bones as a sweet fatigue. 

a small, sharp whine slips from your lips when zuko’s calloused thumbs knead an especially tender spot. you know that he's ravaged you. you probably look as undone as you feel, and it's going to be painfully obvious for anyone looking at you to tell. though you can't yet see the crimson marks he left in his wake, you've already decided those are tomorrow’s problem. after all, your ladies-in-waiting are already far too used to seeing the fire lord’s permanent signature painted across your skin when they wash you in the morning.

“i'm sorry, love . . i'm so sorry,” zuko whispers into the crook of your neck as he continues his slow massage, his touch smoothing over the marks he left behind. “just can’t control myself when it comes to you, my queen.” 

“mmmnn . . . it’s, ah . . s’okay,” you slur against the mahogany bedding. a thick, post-orgasmic drowse claims your senses, your eyelids fluttering wearily the last of your strength dissolves into the sheets. he’s truly managed to unburden you of every last ounce of your energy. 

tenderly, zuko rolls you onto your back and gently cleanses your skin, taking a soft handcloth from your drawer to wipe away any slick evidence of love-making; even as the dark temptation to stuff himself back inside your sweet pussy and keep you plugged with his dripping cum starts to become a greater urge. zuko fights it, deciding he can save the intention of impregnating you for another, more purposeful night — that is, if your womb hasn't already . . . taken his heir after the dozens of positions he molded you into all in one night. 

a feather-light kiss grazes your forehead, tender and warm, just before the red covers are drawn up over your shoulders to ward off the chill. zuko watches you drift into slumber, a soft chuckle escaping him as you mutter a sleepy, incoherent complaint about the 'unfairness' of him being able to melt away your icy defenses. settling into bed, he spoons you close, wrapping his thick, strong arms around you to keep you snug against the solidity of his chest. 

“rest while you can, love," he whispers adoringly into your hair, smelling of rich imported oils, a tinge of his own smoke, and the salt of your sea. "because when the sun rises . . . i’m taking my turn with you and that ribbon.”

© 𝒫𝐼𝑁𝐾ℳ𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐻.ᐟ ⸻ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. reblogs are highly appreciated! please and thank you! ❤︎

It was fine, at first.

As Fire Lady, it wasn’t precisely a relaxed celebration. Nothing ever really is. So, even if the event was smaller than others hosted in the halls of the palace, your role still required small talk and a display of regal attitude towards all guests. So did Zuko’s; you had learned this a long time ago.

However, after a long talk with a particularly chatty Earth Kingdom ambassador, you had realized you hadn’t seen your husband in a while. So what a surprise it was to look for him and find him positively surrounded by people who, clearly, weren’t his wife.

This had happened before. Of course it had.

One couldn’t expect to marry someone who looked…like that, and expect him not to draw attention. Someone in such relevant position. Someone who had (even if earned through the years) a poised presence that could catch the eye even without relying on such good looks and formidable title. It would be foolish to do so.

But seeing him so…comfortable at it? Not seeing him even flinch as one of the women (the daughter of one of the older council members, if you recall correctly) gets closer to mumble something to him, while he has the audacity to smile while he replies? Unheard of. Disgraceful. Absolutely maddening.

And the reason you’re overheating with jealousy, clearly.

It’d be less awful if he didn’t look so pleased with engaging in the conversation, you think to yourself, turning towards one of the closest refreshment tables to pick one glass of whatever was being served. Something just to put your hands to use, to maintain the decorum expected of the Fire Lady instead of the dramatic behaviour of a possessive wife.

How you wished to at least know what those women were saying to have him so content…

The evening had been delightful. That much was clear for Zuko. Shades of gold and red decorating every space of the room, from the fresh flower arrangement to the silk banners on the walls, to the display of the tables and carefully curated menu. A festivity more than worthy of being hosted by the palace.

After all, it had been carefully overseen by his wife, so there wasn’t any other way for it to be.

“Fire Lord Zuko.” Another noble woman called for his attention, as had been common in the last few minutes, even while he had made sure to dismiss them swiftly to finally have a moment to look for his beloved. “The evening has been wonderful. The palace is brighter than ever tonight… one might wonder if it’s your presence that makes it so radiant.”

…a moment he believes gets further away from his grasp, with every new conversation.

Still, he takes a moment to think of the words, mentally considering the best answer for someone of his position. Even years into the title, he still sometimes has to pause to consider the best course of action, even for something as small as chatter in the middle of a diplomatic reception.

Which is why, after a few seconds, and in the voice of a man who now knows how to command a room, but apparently, not catch second intentions, he utters:

“I haven’t made any changes to the lighting.” He clarifies as if it were needed. Then, feeling like he should add something more, he continues. “But it was my wife who organised the decorations. She has a good eye for that.”

The noblewoman’s smile doesn’t falter but almost threatens to do so, until she remembers who she’s talking to.

“That’s…wonderful, Your Majesty.” She ends up replying, laughing softly as if to ease the one-sided tension. “But I imagine it must be difficult to balance such responsibilities. Do you ever find time to enjoy evenings like this by yourself?”

“There’s usually work to finish all the time.”

This time, he doesn’t add more to his words, almost pleased with himself on his diplomatic ways.

“As it’d be expected of such a demanding position.” The woman continues either way, set on gaining the favour of the Fire Lord in at least some way. She had seen women speak to him half the night without any of them succeeding, so either they had been terrible at it, or this man was the most challenging one in the entire Fire Nation. “I’m sure many would gladly assist you, if you ever required… lighter company.”

“That wouldn’t be necessary. The council handles most of the matters, and my wife manages the rest.”

The woman almost sighs, but decides to try one last direct approach.

“Even so, if you ever find yourself looking for another kind of presence…I’d be honoured to spend more time in your company, Your Majesty. Perhaps in a less crowded space.” She continues, using her fan as if to highlight the expression of her face or the subtle pigment adorning her lips.

“Ah, yes.” He ends up replying, with such a casual tone that almost makes the woman hopeful that her tactics seem to have been successful…until he opens his mouth again. “If you’re looking for a position, you could talk to the members of the council.”

…

“Of course, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

“My Lady, are you feeling unwell?” Your thoughts are interrupted by your personal attendant, who has discreetly gotten closer to you after sensing your internal turmoil even from the other side of the room.

“Not at all.” You compose yourself quickly, taking your eyes off the woman speaking to your husband, stopping your assumptions for a few seconds. “Everything is perfect.”

“Would you want to step outside for a moment?”

“That would be lovely, yes.” You agree quickly, clearly preferring to gaze at the sky to clear your mind. At least the sky didn’t have women on their left and right looking for the smallest opportunity to make a man pay attention to them despite being publicly married.

Even so, as the cold air of the night hits your face as you step into the closest balcony, your thoughts don’t ease even for a moment. After all, the image of someone else getting that close to the man you love (and the fact that it has become a recurring occurrence) isn’t something easy to shake off.

‘No, he isn’t like that. But he usually stays close to me in these events, why didn’t he today? But he’s Fire Lord, it wouldn’t be good if I stick to him all the time; he has to talk to people. But he seemed so entertained while talking to them, what if..?’

“You left.”

A voice can be heard behind you. An unmistakably familiar, and very annoying for the thoughts you were having kind of voice.

And surely, a few seconds later, the man himself appears next to you. Fire Lord Zuko, in full formal attire, hair half up in a bun you fixed yourself before the event, and expression unexpectedly soft for anyone else that wasn’t you.

And apparently, the man who had a radar on noticing the immediate moment you abandoned the main hall.

“…yeah.” You end up simply nodding, almost embarrassed of the thoughts you were having mere seconds ago. “It was, uhm, quite…crowded inside.” You add as excuse.

“Did something happen?” He asks, sensing it might not be the full truth. Which might have made you cave in to him if it wasn’t for the expression he made as he spoke, the same one he did minutes ago with another woman. The memory is enough to make the previous jealousy rise again.

“Nothing at all. You can come back inside if you want. I wouldn’t want to take much of your time when you have plenty of company waiting for you.”

That makes him pause.

If these years of marriage have taught him anything at all, that tone of hers didn’t exactly want him to come back inside. And he had probably made a mistake he should apologise for. So, with the subtlety of a glass being smashed into the pavement, he simply asks:

“What do you mean?”

Which makes her sigh as she finally looks at him.

“I don’t know, Zuko. Maybe I don’t like seeing you surrounded by women who seem to be waiting at the inevitable moment I make a mistake so they can get closer to you.” A hint of sarcasm can be heard in your tone, more exhaustion than real anger toward him.

His expression inevitably shifts at your words. After years of knowing him, you can almost read them like an open book. First confusion, then consideration of them, a mix of something quieter as he seems to realise the meaning of what you just said.

“What kind of mistake-?” Realisation hits his features as his thoughts form fully. “Oh.”

“…'oh'?” You repeat, almost offended.

“That’s what this was about.” He ends up muttering, almost to himself. “You believe I’ve been talking to other women because I’ve wanted to?”

“You seemed quite content.”

“I wasn’t- “He stops himself like he knows his words will need to be more exact than that. “I’ve been trying to end those conversations as soon as possible to come look for you. But more of them kept appearing before I could. And when I was alone, you left the hall.” He speaks, tone even but no less firm, like it always has been when it comes to reassure you, in his own way.

Still, as you don’t seem fully convinced, he continues.

“They were speaking to me. I answered.” He clears his throat. “That was all.”

You stop to look at him for a second, his tone and words making you almost ashamed of the fact that you thought he could be entertaining other kind of thought. But even so, stubborn as usual, all you can manage is:

“Didn’t look like that to me.” Which would’ve been more intimidating if it wasn’t for the faint flush of embarrassment on your face.

“Sorry, I just thought you’d be…glad. Of me following your advice.”

“…what advice?”

“What you said to me last week.” He recalls, tone sincere. “That I should speak to dignitaries myself instead of glueing myself to you.”

…ah, that advice.

“I mean- yeah, I did say that. But referring to- I don’t know! Ministers, ambassadors, representatives, not other women.” You continue despite the growing mortification on your face.

“Were you jealous?”

“…no.” You mutter despite how utterly unconvincing your tone is given the situation.

But instead of mocking you or teasing you into it, he glances for a second towards the hall he left minutes ago. The distant sound of chatter and probably political nonsense you both technically should come back to. Then takes your hand in his, with the same gentle touch he always has with you, like the way he touches you matters more than anything his title might ask of him.

“Would you rather we leave early?”

“What?”

“Leave already. We were noticed enough; I think it’s normal for me to want time with my wife instead of nobles and ambassadors.” He repeats, then adds. “And for what’s worth, I’d have rather spent all evening with you instead of talking to other people about lighting.”

That finally makes you squeeze his hand as a gesture of relief, moving closer into him until your forehead rests against his shoulder, feeling the warmth he radiates even in the middle of the night chill.

“…I should’ve figured that myself. Sorry that I didn’t.”

“It’s fine. If something is wrong, I want you to tell me.”

“Alright.” You end muttering, surrounded by his words. As the calm settles over your thoughts and posture, you move even closer, allowing yourself to press a soft kiss to his lips that he quickly answers, his free hand moving to settle over your waist with the familiarity of someone who had been waiting for that precise moment all night. “We’re leaving, then?” You whisper against his lips.

“To wherever you want to, my love.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Bonus scene:

Later, you both walk hand in hand towards your shared chambers. The lights of this side of the palace are dimmer, more private even as the palace guards gaze at you slightly. Almost curious about what the Fire Lord and Fire Lady are doing there despite how the event is still ongoing.

And then, almost as an afterthought, you finally recall some of his earlier words.

“What did you say before?” You gaze slightly towards him as he walks next to you. “That someone was talking to you about…lighting?”

“Yeah, something about how the evening was…brighter, I think she said.”

“Brighter how?”

“With me.” The reply was casual, but his faintly puzzled tone showed his previous confusion even now. “I don’t even handle those aspects of the palace, but I figured she was complimenting your decorations.”

That makes you pause, as you process his words, a smile forming immediately.

“Did she… say something else?”

“That she wished to assist me with company, something about lighter presence. So, I advised her to ask the council for a position.”

That’s what finally makes you laugh freely, supporting yourself lightly onto him for balance.

“Zuko, that woman was trying to get into your bed, not getting a council position.”

That makes him pause, making him furrow his brow, until he continues, voice fully honest like he can’t even fathom such a possibility.

“Why would she? You’re my wife, you’re the only one I share my bed with. You’re the only one I want.”

“Smooth, Fire Lord, very smooth.”

“What if she doesn’t want to?” Zuko groaned. His forehead collided with wood. “What if the idea scares her off or makes her think I’m some kind of sick bastard? A royal marriage remains unconfirmed unless the wedding night is spent together.”

“Here’s some real advice, lie to the council. Pretend like something happened even if it didn’t. Old geezers who haven’t gotten their rocks off in years wouldn’t be able to decipher a lie like that.”

Toph’s words made Zuko inhale deeply, exhaling twice as hard in an effort to calm his nerves. The woman was right. Besides, there wouldn’t be any worry of witnesses accusing him of deceit.

“Or are you just nervous because you haven’t been with a woman in a while?”

Zuko’s teeth gritted at Sokka’s teasing. “It hasn’t been that long.”

Toph snorted a laugh. “Oh yeah? How long has it been?”

No answer was given, not when Zuko came to the realization that it had been a while. It wasn’t intentional, nor something he knowingly kept track of.

“Told ya.” Sokka gloated at the silence. “It’s expected for a Fire-Lord to be pent-up — you know, ruling his kingdom and all…”

Katara rolled her eyes. “As if you’re drowning in women.”

Sokka smirked. “Duh, I am. That’s my specialty.”

“Anyway,” Aang recentered the conversation, “Everything will be fine. When we first met, all of us had our own negative perceptions. Now we’re all here to support you because you proved us wrong. If you did it once it could definitely be done again.”

“Correctamundo,” Sokka firmly nodded, placing a hand on his hip. “Right now your biggest worry should be if your bride is actually super gross-looking.”

“That shouldn’t matter, Sokka.” Katara sighed. “I doubt it. Water tribe women are always beautiful.”

Aang hadn’t taken his gaze off Katara as he mumbled, sheepishly massaging his neck.

“Agreed.”

“Appearance hasn’t crossed my mind. Who am I to judge something like that?” Zuko stood from his seat at the vanity. Heated hands straightened his black and red garments before his eyes settled on each of his childhood friends. His tense expression softened. “I appreciate you all finding time to be here. Truly.”

Katara gave a gentle smile. “Whenever you need us we’ll find time for you. Always.”

Two servants entered the room with their heads bowed low, announcing synchronously once permission was granted.

“Fire-Lord Zuko, your bride has arrived from the Northern Water Tribe.”

Fireworks exploded under a vast starry sky. The festival of steam had commenced, joining water and fire.

The entire time, Zuko hadn’t realized he was staring.

Dancers, music, lights… all were a blur. None could captivate him as his wife had. Feeling him watch you, you glanced in his direction. The small motion made Zuko mend his posture and offer an awkward closed-lipped smile, but his gaze refused to depart from the soft looking skin of your lips, your eyes glowing above a trail of embers. A word hadn’t even uttered through your lips intended for him yet.

Man, how long has he been this pent-up without realizing?

Perhaps Sokka was right.

Zuko made a silent oath to never utter those words out loud.

The wedding ceremony had went smoothly.

There was no doubt it would since there was no need for the husband and bride to interact with each other beforehand. Besides making eye contact a few times, each remained within respective palanquins while a highly-ranked councilman announced the newfound duties of an emerging royal family.

Much later into the night both you and Zuko were still seated separately, only allowing him to admire you from afar. The robes on your body were elegant, silver and blue fabrics complimenting the power coursing through your veins. A corset squeezed ribs so much Zuko could see your small gasps for breath. Each time you shimmered in firelight when a dancer passed made the Fire-Lord even more mesmerized.

There was a new ring on your finger, a fire nation crown on your head…

A weight heavy on your skull.

All of this — the dress, the jewels, the endless fuss — it wasn’t intended for the pleasure of love. Today was dedicated to the survivors traumatized by a meaningless war, worried that a minor incident would tip the scale. To the mothers and fathers fearing their children will be kidnapped and forced to fight again, losing their lives for a selfish tyrant. That stripped this marriage of any emotional meaning and instead provided a logical one. And you — since childhood you had wanted to escape the Northern Water Tribe and its society favored toward men.

Now, what should have been an opportunity at freedom felt more like a cage.

Your fingers clenched the fabric of your dress. You leaned over to a fire nation servant, whispering words Zuko couldn’t hear.

Then, you climbed off the palanquin held on the shoulders of water tribe maidservants.

Zuko watched you saunter into the palace before quickly hustling to follow you, ignoring a councilman who had asked where he could be running off to.

Through long corridors, you stepped onto a balcony, leaned against a railing as you gazed up at the moon. A source begging to be used. It couldn’t be. Not when all that surround you was aggressively overpowering fire.

Zuko stepped onto the balcony behind you, quietly offering his first words in hours.

“May I ask what’s on your mind?”

A response came just as gentle.

“Needed some air. The steam was too much to handle. Too forceful.”

Zuko knew you meant that more in a figurative sense than literal.

“I assume the centuries of war imposed by the fire nation has made you reluctant of this marriage…”

“Reluctant isn’t quite the term I would use.” For a water tribe commoner, your tone was surprisingly warm and steady. “I prefer to drift with the flow of life. If it has brought me to be with you, I will accept it.”

Zuko leaned his forearms on the railing of the balcony; gazed down at the people still singing, dancing, drinking. A mix of water-benders and fire-benders lingered in the crowd, fewer earth-benders cheering along. All interacting with one another.

“My mother was forced to marry my father. She lived a facade of contentment, but cracks always showed the truth,” he buried reemerging thoughts of resentment to instead whisper, “I refuse to become like him.”

The Fire-Lord hesitantly pulled a small box into the night air. One that had been hidden within his robes the entire evening as he struggled to hide the slight tremble of his fingertips. Zuko watched you open it with awe, your eyes brimming with gratitude at the sight of a traditional betrothal choker inside. Instead of being water tribe colors, the collar was black while the pendant itself was blue with fiery red detailings.

“This is beautiful,“ you whispered with honesty, “Unique.”

“It was inspired by one I had seen before. May I put it on you?”

As soon as you nodded Zuko shifted behind you.

Gentle hands slowly tugged blue attire lower. A chilly breeze licked the base of your neck. You could feel him close. Even through clothes his body was warm, strong. His presence created a heat of its own. The adornment raised to wrap tight around your neck.

When Zuko spoke, his sultry breath caressed your ear like silk.

“I was scarred due to my father’s relentless greed for power. The fire nation has hurt me too. I’ve worked tirelessly to fix the consequences.”

“Then I suppose a mark like this isn’t new to you?” A silver sleeve was pulled back to display a burn on the otherwise smooth skin of your arm. “What happened to all the fire nation soldiers arrogant enough to burn children for fun? Do they still live their lives worry free? Is the Fire-Lord so forgiving?”

Zuko tenderly raised your arm to his lips where he placed a soft kiss on the scar.

“I assure you that they’ve been dealt with. A long time ago. Thoroughly.”

“Well the trauma still remains.” Your back turned to him. “I apologize for my insolence, my lord.”

Strong hands held your waist with a benign yet commanding strength, stopping you from drifting away. “There’s no need to call me that. You’re my wife. It sounds a little —“ he cleared his throat, faint redness creeping up his cheeks “— suggestive when my title comes from your lips.”

Your head tilted to the side. A teasing grin crawled onto your face. “Is that how you prefer it, my lord?”

“When a voice such as yours says it, yes.”

You stiffened upon the realization that his flirting had managed to draw a smile from you. After a moment of hesitation, you turned back around to face him. His eyes meet yours under the moonlight, a fountain of fire on the balcony making them glow golden.

“We can make this work,” you conceded with a sigh. “I just want freedom, is all. To feel like my own person, not some random water-bending commoner forced to marry the ruler of the fire nation.”

“Everything you want will be yours. I promise.”

There was a glossy look in his eyes, wet and wanting. A hunger that had been restrained. He inched closer, providing all the time you would need to pull away.

But, you didn’t.

As soon as his lips met yours, his body relaxed for the first time of the night, stress melting beneath your hands braced his chest. All the while, his touch never stopped wandering. Your neck. Your arms. Dragging along your spine until your back subconsciously arched.

A breathless laugh escaped you. “Why are you so eager? We have all night.”

“You’re comfortable spending the night with me? You’re not scared or disgusted or…”

He trailed off at the feeling of your fingertips grazing slowly down his body, ceasing dangerously low on the fabric concealing his v-line.

“We still have a marriage to consummate.”

“You knew about that…?”

“I was discomforted at the thought of sleeping with a man the same night I’d meet him. But…” your words became even quieter, but they were certain, “I think… now that I’m aware of the honor you prioritize… I’m okay with this. More than okay.”

Zuko no longer held onto restraint as he fumbled to steer you toward his private chamber. When your bodies stumbled into the corridor, Toph, Sokka, Aang, and Katara were straining to hear if things were going smoothly with the newlyweds who had disappeared from their celebration. You halted at the sight of a peculiar man — Sokka — straightening when he realized he’d been caught with his ear against the door.

A long heated kiss was planted to your cheek while you spoke with a smile. “I was informed by some servants earlier that my husband’s friends will all spend the next three days here. That he treasured you all above anything else. I hope we’ll become equally as close during that time.”

“Are you trying to suck her face off? That’s not how you’re supposed to kiss —“

Katara slammed a hand over her brother’s mouth to muffle the heckling. “I’m sure we will. Enjoy your night. Looks like he already is.”

Zuko paused long enough to toss your weight onto his shoulder like a sack of rice. You let out a small noise of surprise while he nodded firmly to his group of friends.

“If you need anything do not hesitate to call for a servant. We will see all of you at breakfast.”

Without waiting for a response, Zuko carried you towards the entryway of the throne room, hurriedly stating that it was closest. Aang laughed when the threshold shut with a loud slam.

“Looks like he was worried for nothing.”

“Who’s next to get married in the group? Never would’ve expected him to be first.” Toph sighed, “I haven’t met anyone strong enough to outmatch me yet.”

Sokka shrugged. “Meh, I’m having to much fun playing around.”

Both Toph and Sokka swiveled to face Aang and Katara who both nervously twitched. Heavy stares were desperately avoided.

In the grand room, Zuko murmured against your mouth. His muscled chest cornered yours against his throne. You had already pulled his clothing from him down to just his underwear, delighting in the way firelight from candles outlined his blatant strength. “Tomorrow, I will dedicate my time to learning more of you. Ways a devoted husband should.” His hands caressed along your sides, fiddled with buttons.

There was a teasing look on your face when you pulled the pin that declared him Fire-Lord off his head, long hair releasing from its hold.

You grabbed him close. Soft lips grazed his earlobe.

“I’m aware of another way a husband and a wife should get to know each other.”

Zuko seated you on his throne then lowered to his knees, inching the fabric of your dress from your thighs as amber-colored eyes gazed up into yours.

“Of course, my love.”

Wet. It was all so wet.

Zuko’s saliva drooled over your entrance, tongue sliding over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His mouth latched onto your pussy hot and drenched. Amber eyes looked lost, unfocused, as if the intoxicating passion drawing whines from you was drowning him along with. The sight of the Fire-Lord quivering, kneeled in front of his throne while he serviced you between your thighs… The man was famished. His painfully hard cock stood upright through a tight confinement of fabric.

Closed eyes, furrowed brows, the sweet juices leaking from your cunt glossed his lips.

Messy, so unbelievably maddening.

You whimpered as legs clenched against his head.

“My lord…”

Frantically, your clothes were torn away with a loud rip. Broad fingers slid your panties to the side as boxers were haphazardly shoved down his thighs.

“Give your first order as queen, my love.” His hands softly caressed the flesh of your hips while he kissed your collarbone. “Declare what you desire of me.”

“I … I order you to make love to me.”

"From this moment forward, whatever you wish is my command.”

The delicate moan that echoed the throne room nearly made him cum on the spot when the head breached. Barely. Deliciously tight was the hole that anchored him within.

"I’m yours, my lady, all of me," In an attempt to soothe you, warming fingers massaged your waist in circles. There was a possessed look in his eyes when you watched the pleasure shown on his face. Parted lips, groans scraping from the depths of his throat. A thumb circled your quivering clit. "That’s it…”

Surprised, a broken-sounding moan left your lips when he began to thrust hard without him being fully inside yet.

Zuko was never a patient man.

Immensely infatuated with you? Yes.

Careful to remain merciful when necessary? Yes.

But patient wasn't a descriptor even his childhood friends would use for him.

Raw, like an untamed animal, each thrust shoved him deeper until your pussy was stretched to the fullest, his balls slapping your ass.

Zuko’s jerky movements melted your thoughts when his mouth attached to your neck and began to suck and bite, strong hands holding your knees over his shoulders. He wasn’t too vocal — small groans and whines doing more than enough to turn you on even more — but you were. How could you stay quiet when his cock bulled through your walls with the heat of a madman, the thumb once at your thigh returning to your clit as needy moans shifted an octave higher?

Uncontrolled, filthy taunts were whispered against your ear.

“Look at you taking me so well…”

“I can still taste your pussy on my tongue…”

“You’re squeezing me, my love, my wife… so wet…”

And when you clamped on him with a sweet cry, he groaned, forcing his length with a squelch.

"So good..." his voice fractured when your pussy squeezed tighter. "Ready to let go for me? I can feel it."

It was true. You were close, oh so close. Any sense of control slipped through your grasp. Your legs jolted with every driving thrust, wetness leaking onto the seat beneath you.

“I — I can’t…”

"Yes you can. Bless me with the expression my queen makes when she loses control. I — I’m here. I’m right here with you."

Zuko talked through your moment of pure bliss, guiding with soft whispers of worship for your body, your beauty. He begged you to cum as if it would be the last time he ever got the chance to feel you. His heat enticed. His weight cemented you to his throne. In a matter of seconds the coil snapped free. A wave of pleasure washed over you — brutal, making your head tilt back.

Your hands moved in a hurry to stifle your loud moans. They were immediately yanked away, pinned to his heaving chest.

“Don’t hide. Everyone in the palace will know you’re mine.”

His sudden possessiveness was one that couldn’t be controlled.

It strengthened at the feeling of his cock beginning to throb. The urge to stuff you filled his mind till he was nearly delirious.

“Oh god …”

One final slam lodged him deep with a low groan. Burning hands fisted the armrests of his throne, then grasped you tight when his dick pulsed, trembles shivering through his thighs.

A kiss poured longing into you until you were aching, yearning. His cock swelled and erupted, filling your already sloppy hole with a mess of cum. The entire time, Zuko whined and shook, feeling your pussy convulse to beckon more and more of his load. Your desperate mewls of his name only made him feel even dizzier, his eyes shutting tight. Curses rolled from him like a mantra. A small whisper mentioned how much he craved to see your stomach full with his child.

Scratches trailed down his chest red-stained like claw marks.

By time Zuko regained his senses the realization of how heated his body had become dawned.

Smoke wafted from the hand placed on your hip. The scorch caused you to flinch at the burn accidentally left behind as the Fire-Lord hurriedly flung himself to the ground. Zuko tensed. The scar was shaped like a disfigured handprint. If anyone saw it the first rightful assumption would be he branded you intentionally or assaulted you out of anger.

Fingertips mindlessly grazed his own scar. Breaths came faster out of panic.

“Sorry, I — sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I usually have better control —“

“I like it,” you murmured tiredly, caressing the mark, “If the council ever questions our marriage, I will show them this with pride.”

when the mask drops and the armour clatters to the floor after it — zuko can be himself, let the tension roll off of him like the ocean’s steady drum beat against its sandy substrate counterpart. he can be free. like he is with his friends and the people who truly love him.

so it comes as no surprise when fire lord zuko becomes just zuko and chooses to spend his twenty-four hour release with you. 

duties have decided to be kind to you both. falling away and granting you a day where the stars align as though they’ve been perfectly hung next to each other in the sky — and the two of you have time to spare, time to spend by one another’s side. the princess no longer adorning her crown and the fire lord abandoning his armour. 

“what will you do?” zuko averts his eyes, amber finding cold slabs of stone beneath his feet more entertaining than the natural grace of the western water tribe’s very own princess. it’s amusing how shy he turns in the presence of someone who’s known him so long. even still, you treat him with the same amount of care as one would a beloved keepsake, as though he is the very book you reach for when new material runs dry. whose pages greet you with familiar scents of ash mixed with lost love. “w-with your time away?” he adds quickly.

the final council meeting of the week has long since ended. he finds himself at your side and a tower too high above your head as you walk with nowhere particular in mind. away from duty. away from honour. free. like a bird making use of its wings after hibernation. 

the grin you give zuko slips onto your face as though it’d been hiding somewhere away from the world, buried in the kinetic sand. “home.” where the water warms you and the sand is smooth and white and soft between your toes. a tropical solace away from the claws of advisors and military clerks. you stop in your tracks, the sea that you wear on your clothes fluttering around you — light, like sakura petals drifting in the breeze. then you pause, as though you’ve been struck by a poised tip of lightning — and if you lean into him any closer, the shock might wind between you both and zap right through him. “would you like to join me? you could use the sun on your skin and some warmth to your face, fire lord.” 

accepting your invite is as easy as turning a page, following the kind of naturalness that accompanies the desire to read past the final chapter before bed. zuko finds himself wanting to investigate between the lines of what he already knows from reading about you. you’ve been scorched by him before, as children, teenagers who moved with the type of attitude that feels like the world has dubbed them a mistake. he couldn’t tell you how he felt about you then, when he hadn’t learned the words or known how to protect you from himself. but he can now, now that you’re older and perhaps willing to forgive him. 

zuko follows you home for the day, with the hope of understanding the involuted web of his feelings. spider’s silk interwoven into a future he can't see, a mess he can’t make sense of.

those emotions that linger between every breath of saltine air — inhaled in his nostrils fresh, crisp like the snap of an apple. biting against his cheeks. different to that of the fire nation. his feelings sit there, ones he can’t explain away with battle plans and politics. things that make sense to him. not blurred or jumbled. you are confusing, complex, a puzzle piece he has trouble finding the right place for or an equation that has taken several centuries for even the best mathematicians to solve. yet, he’d follow you away from his home just for a taste of yours.

the western water tribe welcomes zuko with wide spread arms, as though he has finally come home. he’s visited before, on state business and for missions lead by aang… but not just for you. not with just you. at first the fire lord thinks that those of the tribe turn towards him just as if he were a source of godly light or heat — much like the spirited wildlife that weaves its way through the walls and arenaceous streets of your equatorial kingdom — because, like you, he is royalty. he is respected.

instead, zuko’s heart beams and yours shies away ( like the running tide, back home to its mother, the moon ) once he learns that is really because of  how fondly you spread word of him around the kingdom — the cabbalistic message is passed onto him from the people of your tribe. tales told to children born of salt water depicting him as a hero, your hero, in battle. secrets and gossip shared with elders who are loose-lipped confirming his beauty, his kindness. harsh critique and comparison to the fire nation passed onto the guards in the most leery parts of your kingdom — that compliment his battle strategy rather than disparage it like his elders.

in his absence, you speak of zuko with a certain air of fondness; the type that goes hand in hand with missing someone. someone more than a friend, but not quite a lover. someone who passes you like you are two ships passing by on different routes. different waters. longing lingering in the sea spray, heartache from the stars and the moon directing their crew.

perhaps, zuko observes, it is time to stop sailing on by. 

your laughter is light and kind and submerges him like the roots of a lily pad making a host out of spring stream — polite behind your hand — when the handmaids in your palace make an attempt to convince the fire lord that blue looks best draped against the pearlescent notes of his skin, rather than red. there’s a look of dread that washes over zuko’s features like a spill of oil on the surface of the sea. slick on his lips as they downturn at the corners, forming an amusing pout, whilst he turns in the mirrors. fabrics twirl loose and foreign on his body. free. where the lord’s usual armour sits tight and restricting like a militant regime. 

but then you melt when you look at him, as though you’re made of mercury or tungsten touched by a torch burning at the highest torrid degrees. palpable affection generously bubbling over, as though you’re admiring the most beautiful piece of art you’ve ever seen, almost as if he belongs where you do and where that is…is here.

he decides then that casting his anchor here would not be so bad. 

“do not worry,” you are honest when you reassure the fire lord. the beginnings of your heart, which he had once splintered unwittingly in his youth out of fear he could not love the way he had never been taught to, staring to peer out from its glass cage in your chest and behind the rise and fall of your ribs. “the colours match your eyes perfectly.” 

blue and yellow. amber and indigo. the sun and the sky. the tropical fish and the marine sea.

the colours of your home and your kingdom. the same colours that have and will stream through your life from start to finish, only dulling to grey when you inevitably  come to pass and fade from this world. the very colours of the people who have taken their time to help shape you into the formidable woman you are today. 

as soon as you say it, heat floods your face and broils beneath the surface of your sun-drenched skin. as soon as he hears it, zuko averts his gaze — feigning interest in the smooth silk that kisses his fingertips as though an angel had been there. his smile is tiny, breaching his visage. in the same manner that a blue whale would surface for air — gradual, slow, with the need to bring life into itself and the eyes of others. 

“thank you,” he unveils the compliment with carefully crafted earnestness — like protecting a sandcastle from the torrid temper of the sea on a bad day — overcoming the lodge in his throat to force his quiet fondness for you into the salty air. “yours too.”

this time, you look away — but he does not miss the spread of your lips into your cheeks. radiant, yet shy. something precious, a delicate secret. for him and for you. 

zuko thinks that he could stay here, set carefully adrift to become one with the landscape. spilling into the picturesque view of your kingdom as if someone had knocked over a palette of watercolour. 

that afternoon, zuko walks by your side with a little more confidence. the tropic’s coastal zephyr moves through your hair with the same force as unbridled joy — let loose, carrying no weight from the world and its own problems. 

it whips through the airy material of your clothes — shades of sapphire and ruby glimmering in the summer shine to your kingdom. you match each other, parallels of the elements that somehow go together. water and fire turn into fingers in gloves, two sides of the same coin, or two halves of a whole. faultlessly fashioned keys for long lost locks that open things never meant to be closed.

you are harmonious in a way zuko wished he believed in when he was younger. perhaps then there wouldn’t be this awkward distance between you — a push and pull of magnets that comes with the orbiting of one another. if he had realised back then, that loving you was nothing to fear in the first place, he wouldn’t have to wait for a pause in his duties to spend more than a morsel of time with you. searching for scraps in between schedules and missions just to breathe the scent of salt in your hair and sweet hibiscus on your skin — it's a desperation that wouldn’t even exist. 

because you would be his and he would be yours and nothing, not even a whisper, could keep zuko from you.

now, he is six hours into a day by your side that seems to be slipping through his coarse fingers like sand in an hourglass. except the day cannot be endlessly flipped to start again.

“i want to show you around,” you say with the cadence of someone who is proud of the roots their existence is founded on. there’s love in your heart, not just for your nation but it’s mothers and the mothers before them. zuko isn’t sure he knows what that’s like — the pride of being fire nation doesn’t come with tenderness. killing. lying. treachery. love comes from only a few close people in his life,  fleeting presences like a small spark between rocks. his mother. uncle iroh. his friends. you.

“but we don’t have much time left. there’s so much to see.” you add, your wistfulness curling into a pleasant gust of sea breeze as though your tone is reaching for a hand of comfort. these days, memories of your home grow faint despite the manners in which water holds it shape — between royal duties, adventures with aang along with the others and travelling in the hopes of keeping peace — replace what you knew as a child, 

palm trees wave to zuko as though they are friends he seems to have forgotten. something tells him that they know you too, calling to their queen as if to offer some kind of reassurance. the sand is still the same; even when the water dries; the parts of you that die still leave memories that remain. he doesn’t want you to be sad, to think that the kingdom you lead with such grace has forgotten about the lopsided grin from your youth and the funny way that you laugh to fill the silence, when the sound of turning tides is missed. he wants you to know that every flower of every tropical taint wishes to mimic your sweetness and your scent, that the people walking this path pause with awe when you smile at them as though they are family. 

your home loves you in the way that a mother loves her growing child. no matter the time apart, there are hands there to mend the holes in your heart with a stitch bearing threads of affection. 

the fire lord’s thoughts skip back to the present, your swaying fingertips brush. a sign. a vote of confidence for zuko.

breathing clean air into his lungs before he takes a leap, the firelord he claps at your hand in a silent promise of forever — one as vast as the stretching blue, deep as it is wide. zuko stands before you, willing to run wherever with you by the guidance of the beach’s breath — something firm about his grip, tender like he’s been blessed with something more precious than pearls and oil where he is but the foolish man that would dare to waste them. the carefree gentle lines of his face that creep into the edges of his scar read as though he knows which direction to head. as if he’s lived here within the western water tribe all his life and the song of the seashore knows his name, writing it in seashells right next to yours. destined in handwriting forged from the fingertips of the forces of nature. 

“then show me the parts you love the most,” zuko heaves with admission — heart open, flame free. “on our next day off, show me the rest. i want to see it all by your side.” he crafts his response with the same heedfulness as an artist close to completing a portrait — each brushstroke perfectly poised to ensure every colour conveys proper meaning.

the cognac and honey hue to his eyes have always signified safety and virtue.

you can trust when zuko says he wants to see it all. 

see it all. 

with you.

a wave crests against the sea wall that you walk together. thick and bold concrete that once would protect against the fire nation — but today, you think, you might let the defence fall. just enough to let him in.

“what about the day after that?” you whisper.

acting on an impulse of bravery, he squeezes the palm of your hand. 

“i’ll show you my home. more than just the council room.” he murmurs back. 

the implication is flirtatious, yet entirely too honest, see through like a sheet of paper held up to subtropical. perhaps there’s slightly more to zuko that you understand now that he’s older — you see his attempts to try. to fix what he broke as a boy with nothing but his honour at stake. at first your girlish heart feels scared to lean into it and trust the words to catch you like a friend who stands with open arms when you fall. 

but then you remember that you know him, like the salt only knows a home swirling at sea and the fishes know their reef, and the tide knows its tune. 

“okay,” you grin with the easy focus of someone taking the lead. ready to show zuko the world whilst intertwining your fingers like the stronghold rope your ancestors have used to fish and to survive for centuries before your birth. tied and knotted together with purpose. maybe, there is some kind of purpose in sharing this time with zuko — two souls bound to meet under the same sky with their fortune written in the cosmic stars. maybe. you lean into the feeling. you take him where your heart thrives most. 

you take zuko to the places where time stands still. the fish market that bustles with life by the docks, where he haggles with the monger to bring down the price and somehow leaves with three red snappers — that he has no idea how to prepare —  and a lobster he’d grown fond of due to its rich blue shell. (“will you eat it?” “i don’t think i can, it’s too cute.”). then, you spend two hours  rock pooling with the children darting from the school house down to the cove — because apparently they find it mind blowing that the fire lord has never touched a star fish before. 

unfortunately for them, you scold them all. including zuko, reducing the lord to an apologetic mess — because he almost finds himself poisoned by a brightly coloured sea slug lodged between bleached coral and barnacles. whilst bushy tailed and vibrant in personality, the children eagerly show zuko how to crack a muscle with nothing but a rock and the type of strength only a determined child would possess. their laughter meets the sea’s cooling breath at zuko’s many failed attempts.

his temper flares like that of bursting firework, a blush on his cheeks that rivals the red of his scar, because you’re watching and although it’s childish — he feels a need to prove himself to you. the failure, temporary, is worth it. for your hands gritty with sand and yet as soft as the briny ocean air against his cheeks, you teach him how to crack it open. cold water fingers on fiery warm skin. two opposites that make a whole. 

zuko he finds a pearl within a clam, one he gifts to you because it had reminded him of the gleam in your eyes. something about his boyish charm and the way he nearly slips on seaweed slick rocks just to give it to you as you tend to the children, melts your heart into a fond stupor. where the walls of your palace are adorned with the kind offerings and riches of the sea, a simple onyx pearl from the fire lord himself means more than anything in the world to you. 

someone who has everything, including the burdens of her own crown.

around lunch, an auntie at her market stall goads the young fire lord into trying a saltfish fritter — forgetting to mention the notes of scotch bonnet tucked into the batter and you swear on all things avatar that steam rolls from his ears and nose at the level of spice on his tongue. 

“you can’t handle a little heat? you’re the fire lord!”

 “i — hah — don’t see you trying one!” he fans his tongue with the same fierce determination that aang, the air bender, often displays. 

with silver coin you buy him a coconut flavoured ice-drink from another merchant, hoping it’ll cool the fever in his mouth. it melts too quickly between the warmth of zuko’s palms because you’re so close it makes him nervous enough to sweat. 

“ah, here!” you coo without realising. smaller palms gliding over zuko’s like water running over polished glass. “don’t let that melt.”

ice crystallises over the outside of his cup, freezing the condensation in place — it’s not as though you’ve frozen time but to the fire lord, the moment lasts forever. the instinctivity of your touch, the ease in which you tend to him, his stomach turns over itself like the switch of a current when the weather swaps its mood. 

he gulps, swallows — studies you with wonder like you’ve turned wine to water. “thanks… thank you, princess.” 

your own gaze follows the trail of his whispered words upwards, and your eyes meet. his laden with the kind of longing you’ve seen only exist between those destined to love in the stars. yours with surprise, hidden yearning lost in the colours of your eyes that reflect the light of sun on sea.

princess.

the pet name makes you turn away with embarrassment. zuko coughs to conceal his own. 

any onlookers must think their princess and the lord are utterly, tragically hopeless.

eventually, zuko finds himself entertaining the littler water benders, whilst you nurse the village back to order. too kind to say no to the people of your home when they seek your help — even on your day off. he doesn’t mind it too much, a spark of idolatry sitting within his sternum as he kindles flames for them to easily put out using splashes. as they grow bored, zuko sits still and patient as the young water bender girls take to weaving tropical flowers into his ink black hair — three  clambered into his lap and clinging to the broadness of his frame as they work with the better determination than his handmaids back home. you pretend that the jealousy in your gut isn’t there when you catch the sweet little girls  ask him to marry him and if they’ll become princesses when they do. 

zuko laughs them off, polite and patiently, gentle as the wisp of clouds streaking through the sky. “you should want to marry someone because they love you. not because they’re a prince.” 

“do you love someone, fire lord zuko?” one of the girls ask, nuzzling into his arm — eyes wide and glimmering like the surface of the sea catching on the sun. 

like second nature, amber eyes find your figure flowing through your tribe’s village as if you’d never left — carving out your path like water does when forming a new river channel. you move so naturally, playing with children one moment before you’re helping the elders wash their fruit and prep their fish in the next — rinsing it all off with your delicately practised water bending and his heart skips a beat as if it were missing from his chest for just a moment. 

“very much,” he hums around the words that feel like a weight off his chest to say, warm in the sense that they roll through his blood stream in search of replacing any cortisol there. of course, with a sprinkle of dopamine. “i think i always have.”

the fire lord — no — zuko, realises with frightening devastation that he loves you and never wants to leave you. here. home. he wants to be the wind beneath your soaring wings if you were to ever become a bird of the sea. he wants to wake up next to you with the view of crystallised aquamarine waters every morning and sometimes the burnt orange skies of his own nation. he wants to explore the chambers of your heart like a hidden cove off the coast and claim it as his own personal, secret treasure. 

later that night when the cries of gulls have quietened to the simple beat of their wings and the tropical sun tiptoes down the horizon to rest — zuko stands before you on the sea shore, heart on his sleeve so unlike him. so rare. feelings were never something that existed when he was younger, they were to be had and never to be spoken. the only emotions he knew how to express were rage. bitterness. souring anger. 

you’ve found your way to the beach once more; you know that his boat will dock here in the early hours — but you feel it would be better to say goodbye away from prying eyes of palace officials and diplomats that only wish him well for the sake of appearances and peace. quietly, you tip toe along the line of frothing white peaks of water and golden sand — arms out as if the wind will catch you if you fall from the unsteady drum to your heart. zuko follows you, not too close and not too far, as though he needs the space to think.

to speak what’s brewing in his mind, taking on the shape of a storm front. 

now, with the sky tinged pink, like his cheeks with the fresh heat in his face — zuko tells you of the warmth that burdens his heart as best he can. awkward, but still trying. 

“i think i might be in love with you.”

your body is still, then, but your garments — blue robes traded for something looser, teal ocean turned into silk — moves with the sea breeze that whips behind you. takes the ends of your braids and twirls it through windy fingertips. 

“might?” you ask, pure and curious.

“i know it.” zuko swears in return, quickly, like he’s been asked to recite an oath in exchange for his life.

crossing your arms over your chest, as though you’re shielding your vital organs from a cruel jab, you frown. “it doesn’t take a day to fall in love, my lord.” 

formalities come up quickly like a sea defence. you shield yourself from the angry wrath of your sea of memories. rejection from the past spilling over into the present day.

“yes princess,” he is even more hasty in his reply during this turn of conversation, in the sense that it almost feels like he is running out of time. your day off has dissolved like ice on hot rock, trickling away from you into a distant memory. soon, a boat will arrive to whisk him home and then there will be nothing but space between you once again. “but it has been years. since i—” zuko swallows. “since i first knew.”

“zuko.” you’re warning him, as one does before finding themselves eye to eye with an equatorial storm, because you’re not sure if you can go back to the way you felt before. humiliated and foolish. you’re no longer a little girl, a princess waiting for her crown and zuko isn’t the prince who left everything he knew behind anymore  — yet somehow he manages to wave it all away. the duty, the honour, the pressure put on young shoulders and the standards to uphold. 

you’re both children again, ones who feel like the world will end if they don’t do it right — hardly any room between their hearts and their lungs to take in love behind every breath and shout it out from roof tops where words stay trapped behind their teeth. was it love back then? when you had confessed your brewing feelings to zuko like it was as natural as bending and shaping the water to your will. how can it be love now? when you exist as different versions of yourselves. carved like a coast, adapting to circumstances like water takes to the vessel it is contained by. 

he whispers your name. “it doesn’t take a day to fall in love… but it has taken just one… for me to be brave,” zuko’s feelings spill from his lips like the blood of ocean prey drawn into water by a predator —  crimson against cerulean. you didn’t ask for an answer, but his comes as though it is a kiss pressed to your lips, unable to conceal a lie that’s lasted a decade. a falsehood where he doesn’t return your affections. “i’m not… i don’t lead with my heart. i walk into fights with my mind, not my emotions, because if i do, then the people i care so deeply about get hurt. but…  the greatest battle i’ve ever been in, is the one where my heart fought with my head and i failed to tell you what’s really been in my heart this entire time.” 

“i love you,” salt sits in the cracks of his lips as he licks them, anxiety sitting like a rock made of dense peridotite in his chest — weighing down his heart. if there was any inkling of you feeling the same, it would lift him.  “you… you don’t have to return any feelings for now. o-or at all! you may have even lost those feelings for me but…” zuko stumbles through his words, ones that take the shape of bended metal bullets — now that they sit bare between you both like a stretch of sand between shore and sea — he cannot take them back. “but just know it’s always been there, lingering in my mind, and i know now. that i have always loved you.”

the fire lord lays out his confession as though he is stood at the gallows begging for mercy on his life. 

and the realisation does not strike you all at once. instead, it is slow like the slip of the sun beneath the horizon as the world turns on and day fades into night. the whole day, you’ve been walking the edge, the thin and fine line that marks the divide between nostalgic comfort as friends and something a little more than lovers. like offering a shell that shines in the palms of zuko’s hands, he lets the decision land in your court. you decide what comes from this, where the winds take your spirits next.

for zuko, it has always been you. never a doubt. a single fact that rings true for as long as the heavens and sky above remain blue underneath pure white cotton cloud cover. 

what is it for you? was he always it for you? 

the version of the world from your eyes begins to blur with the tears that well in them. everything becomes a mess of water coloured skies and visions of zuko’s sunset silhouette as they fall fast while meaning well, a lifting relief washing away any dark in your heart like the way the waves rinse written word from sand. “you are so stupid, it’s nearly insulting,” you blubber, akin to your childish self from the past — stumbling into the fire lord’s arms before he can even think to hold them open for you. “the audacity for you to even believe, that for a second, that i stopped—” 

you nuzzle into his chest, his arms wrap around you like the sea that welcomes you home every time. familiar. warm against your skin. “that i ever stopped loving you,” you birth the words against his chest, covered in your colours and your fabrics and your life story. you feel his heart beat against your lips, your damp cupid’s bow, wild like the wind and somehow — calming. “the fire nation is ruled by an idiot.”

“i-i’m sorry?” zuko barks out a half laugh, one that whirls between the butterflies ablaze in his stomach. 

“don’t make it worse.” 

“i won’t anymore,” he quips, toes curling in the sand as if to hold himself steady. perhaps he feels faint, because in truth, you want him too. “it’ll be better. i will be.”

“i love you, zuko,” with your chin rooted against your chest, you peer up at the prince now grown into your first and only love — clinging onto his embers that catch in sea breeze as if to keep him in this moment with you forever. your confession vibrates through his bones and settles in their weariness, soothing their ache, letting his limbs rest after swimming against his true current for so long. “like the moon loves the sea. i miss you when you’re not with me, like the moon misses the sun when it sleeps.”

“i know. i’ve always known and i’m sorry that it took me so long to meet you here,” he commits, meeting you the rest of the way. under the same sky, a solar eclipse of two hearts. opposites. “i’m also sorry for being a teenage boy,” zuko chimes, unlocking a memory and distant conversation. “katara tells me that we are all the same.”

“you mean stupid? i’ve come to like you that way.” 

you beam with the same kind of mirth that zuko has always known to make his heart stop. from the moment he met you when the world needed saving up to now — where every person and every nation is coming to terms with the concept of peace. building a new future of harmony has not been easy and every day you do your parts to ensure the world never sees what it was one hundred years ago, ever again. right now, zuko thinks, he could be at peace, adrift with you like this. all the time. forever more, if you’d have him.

“love, don’t you mean?” the fire lord retorts after some silence lost to the roll of waves along the beach. answering your question with another question. his tone playful, voice lowered to a breathy whisper that coasts along the shell of your ear until you shudder wholly against him.

seeking warmth in him amidst the cooling tropical eve.

“shut up.” you say, not cruel. just careful and shy. you don’t pull away — even when the temperature drops to an icy evening chill and the moon breaks through the clouds to take the hand of the tide, luring it back to sleep and signifying the birth of night.

zuko shrouds you, crowds you into a hug — the type you give when you’re trying not to forget the way happiness feels. he refuses to let you slip through his fingers, not now, not ever again. “never,” he murmurs, like a quiet release of breath that runs along the coast of your hairline. “you’ve got me.” 

his final words fall like the precise stroke of a sword and land exactly where you need them. you can’t doubt him now, when they’re as good as a promise. zuko loves you and that is fact, written in scripture for generations to come and read and know like your love is to be treated as a piece of crucial history.

a boat will come in the morning to bring zuko back to the fire nation where he will resume his throne, bare the burdens and lace up his armour once more. except when he leaves, it won’t be dread that courses through his body and his soul — rather, it’ll be a sense of calm, the memories of your heart in his hand as he’s set adrift with you occupying his mind.

end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!

Today, as you sit against the headboard and stare at him, your habitually empty face gazes upon him with an odd sort of disgust. He breathes, slow and deep, dreaming.

Do you know what 'Kenjaku' means?

For the Buddhist, it is a lasso which ropes stray spirits. The catching and binding of souls. To save them.

Sometimes, when the room goes eerily quiet, and when the wind whistles silently through like it's begging to be noticed, and when his heartbeats slows into relaxation...you can see something erratic in nature trying to escape. His bones appear to move beneath flesh. And his heart rate spikes up again, bumping and bumping about by his lungs. And he shifts, struggling against his slimy, pale skin. And his lips quiver, as if trying to mumble.

Suguru Geto tries very, very hard to mumble. And when you look so horribly upon the man before you, Suguru looks back somehow, you know he can, underneath all that flesh, and heart, and skin, and lips, and he tries very, very hard to escape.

A soul.

Caught.

Waiting to be freed—

"You stare relentlessly."

You continue to blink your eyes at him. The movement beneath his skin has been subdued. You are alone with its shadow.

"I wish you would die."

Kenjaku huffs out a laugh, opening his eyes to see you, the polite frown of distaste on your mouth as the words leave your tongue. He blinks too, testing. He pats the bed softly, encouraging you to lie and sleep with the beast. He looks very much like Suguru when he does that, their expressions so very close in nature.

Still. Not quite close enough.

You let out a slow breath, hand resting over his before it squeeeezes, just shy from being too tight of a grip. "I wish I could take your brain...and feed it to the immortal birds that have watched you sin…time and time again." You tap his hand, sliding it upon his face and reaching for the stitch marks across your old lovers forehead. Your voice lowers to some sweet whisper, something breathy that doesn't exactly reach that dead skin of his. "Would you let me?"

"You know, I could eat you whole—"

"I've been asking you to. Haven’t I?”

He makes a perverted face, one that is tender in impossible sorts of ways. He takes your wrist without a need for strength, kissing along it gently. His lips are cold and dry, but they look like Suguru's in the winter time, when you'd begged him to wear chapstick or lick your Burts Bees off of your lips. You wonder if the body next to you remembers that too, like he seems to remember everything other virtue and vice from before. You wonder if he thinks about that pomegranate smell, or the sticky feeling of your lipgloss remnants. The memory is somewhere very deep in the back of his mind, and very close in the forefront of yours. The memory, like everything else of fate, has kept you both miles apart from each other.

"Do you imagine him when you ask me?" His tongue glides along the warm and lively vein of your forearm—he is jealous, you think, of this warmth, and these veins, and the fact that you breathe differently than he does. His breathing is rehearsed. It is fake, a lie. Yours is necessary, almost dangerously so. Yours is very easily taken away, especially when he bites down softly upon the skin of your bicep. "Do you imagine his head between your thighs—"

"I hate you."

"The bites against your neck—"

"Kill yourself."

"The way he ate your home cooked meals all those days he couldn't bring his weak body to stand from his bed—"

Your hands are quick to wrap around the man's neck, straddling him and staying firm, precise fingers curling into the soft and fragile skin that sits there, waiting so impatiently to dissipate and deteriorate from existence. Your face is blank again, it has been for years now, and you wait for the smallest sign of life that you know will never come. You use every bit of strength you have, imagining your fingers sucking into meat and muscle, tickling bone marrow and the thick liquid of blood. It makes your heart race like something terrible, like something very evil. And you had never been evil, you’d thought. But Suguru had never been evil either. Perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps he had been confused, hurt. Perhaps he had been overwhelmed with the suddenly volume of pointlessness that the world had to offer.

But never evil.

Kenjaku smiles.

He smiles so fucking lovingly.

His hands reach up to squeeze yours hips, rubbing softly upon your bare skin, nodding delicately. He looks like someone you know just then. Someone you loved very dearly, maybe too much. Suguru's face is looking up at you, you're staring at it and hoping that the life fades from his eyes despite the slow shattering of your heart in its cage. And Kenjaku knows that, he always knows who's loved and who isn't. The ones who are loved are much more fun, he'd once admitted, the ones who are loved fight more. But there is hardly any fight left in this dead man's soul, hardly anything left of his at all. Still, that expression, something about it freezes you up. Your fingers loosen without meaning to.

Somehow, even with your body atop of his, and your hands at the arteries of demise, he seems to have the upper hand.

Well, how do you kill a body that's already dead anyway?

There really is no point in crying, and yet, it's almost impossible not to. He raises himself into a seated position, pulling you into his cold arms, and shushing. This particular movement frightens you, it always does, because your nights always seem to end like this. He coos against your temple, rubbing your back and trapping you into his embrace, humming softly to calm you. The tune he hums is familiar, a song that he probably shouldn't know, but does anyway. And rocks you from side to side, one hand slipping beneath your shirt for some sort of skin-to-skin, and the other pressing your head into the crook of your neck to stop you from crying any longer.

And it's working, you think you're more upset that it actually works on you.

The world is ending because of the man beneath you, and here, he's holding you like a baby, and you're letting him, because what else can you do?

Kill him?

No.

Not only because you can't.

But because his eyes are someone else's.

"Why won't you just die?" you manage to sputter into his chest, squeezing at your now wet shirt. "Please, just let him die. You’re ruining his body. You’re dirtying him up. Please. That's all that I'm asking—I'd do anything, anything you want if you just let him go." You lift your head up quickly, wiping your face like a toddler so that your eyes aren't blurry, so that you can look at him clearly. "You can have my body. You can have my brain instead—you said you liked being able to make children! You said—God, your fucking womb envy—you said the boy you created, how spectacular it was, how extraordinary! You could use me! You could use me all you want—hell, I'll kill myself now and let you do it right here!"

"Stupid child—"

"I'm not stupid!" You shove at his chest despite his firm and steady grip on your arms, trying to free yourself like some rabid animal. "I'm not stupid, you're a thief! You took him from us, from me! Take me! Me, please, me, take me and release him! You don't need him anymore, I know you don't need him. I'm just as good as him—I can be perfect for you! I would do anything you ask, without fighting, without resistance. I could be perfect."

Kenjaku shakes his head and it shuts you up almost entirely. "Dead people are perfect. No resistance at all."

"Suguru resists—I've seen him resist—"

"And you see it less and less everyday, don't you?" He tilts his head at you, brows in question. His hands slide up to reach your face, holding your head in his palms gracefully and then with that same firm and serious caress. "Do you know what I really need from you, little dove?" He holds your shaking head, forcing it to nod. "I need you...to stay right here. And to stay for a long time."

His fingers tap against your cheeks as he stares across your face, examining the figure before him. You have always fascinated him, he always says that and means it. You wouldn't know why, he'd always seem to leave that part out, but he'd kept you around when you had no real plans of leaving. And he frequently sat before you, just to watch, just to explore and inspect.

"I have...ideas," he grins. "Plans. For this new world. We're not so sure what it'll look like, with all the useless monkeys gone, and humanity at its absolute highest potential. But I think we will need more experimentation."

He lifts one finger to press against your heart, his nail creating a faint line upon your skin. It burns, just slightly, before he reels it back, sighing. "This...intrigues me. Yours specifically. I would like to know more about it. Without...ripping it out of your body and seeing for myself."

He smiles again. "Yet."

The room is silent again. Cold, and gross, and void of life in every way possible. You suppose to only actually living thing is you, and even that part seems to dwindle. Kenjaku tries very hard to keep you going, keep you in tact, but he never really has the same affect as Suguru used to. His trying is often in vain.

And yet. You're still here.

Living with some ghost.

"You'll sleep." He nodded demandingly, lifting you up and placing you beside him, burying you both beneath the covers. He places his palm against your chest, where your heart still beats fiercely, lying down comfortably beside you. "You'll give me one more day."

He always says that. Your nights always ends like this.

How many days had it been?

He drifts off into slumber at the sound of your steady breathing.

You wait patiently for Suguru to poke out from beneath him. To replace the figure next to you.

But it's just a ghost.

well hello friends :)

more of my jjk stuff because the third season hurt me terribly.

there will be more parts because I really like this sort of plot line, but they will most likely be the same length and may alternate between the reader's past relationship with suguru and her current "relationship" with kenjaku. let me know if you guys are liking this idea!

tags: @maavro @iloveme46 @leonotlara @mikaiswolfsbane

He’s flitting a wide-eyed glance between his thighs, fuck, then at the thick smoothie in his hands- was there something they put in this or what?

No, he’s subtly shaking his head. It’s just not everyday that you hear about your best friend finally hooking up with the very same man she’d been complaining about ever since first meeting him. It was a long time coming - the entire campus knew at this point. Hell, he’d even distantly heard about a few betting pools to see who’d crack first (okay, maybe he betted in them, too- but only twice!)

So Geto was simply happy for you. Really. 

After all, he’d been right by your side through every argument, every middle finger, every war for top spot on the Dean’s List until that tall, gloomy nerd had completely n’ utterly fucked you.

And here you were, telling him all about it.

Never having been more thankful for that obnoxiously frilly tablecloth covering his legs, Geto coughs away the slight hitch in his breath. “Was it good, pipsqueak?”

A slightly dreamy look wafts across your face, and with the way that his length twitches in interest, he’s pushing away his smoothie completely now. Unable to take any chances of it somehow being spiked.

You sigh, “Hate to admit it, but yeah.”

“Nerdy fuckin’ Gojo made you cum?”

“Multiple times.”

Another jolt, another squeeze of his meaty thighs. 

He darts his darkening eyes away from the expression on your beautiful face. What he’d give to make you look like that, too- no. No, he can’t. “Ah, s-so- you two’ve fucked away the tension now, or what?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say fucked away.” You’re humming idly, “He did argue with me while he was inside of me.” At the strange, strangled squawk that leaves Geto’s mouth- “I know right?”

He’s crossing and uncrossing his legs, throat dry. Sharply glancing downwards once more, “Like- dirty talk?”

And you’re completely oblivious to the way that you’re absolutely ruining him, Geto latching onto every syllable that slips out of your pretty lips like he’s breathing them in. Goddammit, he was feeling so…“Hmm—sure, but just arguing, too. Would you believe it if I told you he tried to pick a fight even after I made him cum dry?”

“C-cum dry.” The usually-deep baritone of Geto’s voice breaks as he echoes the end of your sentence, fingerpads tapping impatiently on the top of the table. Stop talking. Stop thinking. “You can do that?”

“Heh- yeah.” Fuck. You’re smirking, “Why? Jealou-”

“No.”

It comes out much more urgently than he would have liked - much more panicked - and just before you can suspect anything, he’s tugging on the ragged texture of his baggy, ripped jeans. “A-anyways, did you hear about Yaga’s-”

“Sugu, are you okay?” Oh, too late. Before he can stop you, you’re reaching over one of your palms to cover the expanse of his forehead. Feeling for his temperature, “You’re a little…hot.”

“Mm– I’m always hot, gorgeous.” Trying for his usual nonchalance, but if the way you knit your brows is anything to go by, then you’re not buying his act one bit. 

“Is it strange that I slept with Gojo? I mean, I know I’ve been hating him all this time but-”

He clasps his much-larger hand over yours, blunt nails chipped with dark polish. “No no. Don’t worry about it.” With a smile, Geto stretches his long legs underneath the table to tangle them with yours. Heat against heat. Swelling cock against his pants. Tongue snagging on the silver of his snake bites.

The scorching blush that simmers across his cheeks is almost startling as he pushes away the bangs from his face - so pretty, you had to admit. Such a brash, tattooed style to him that drove nearly every woman, man, and anything in between wild any time his looming figure sauntered through campus. 

Winking his eyeliner-smudged lids, “In fact-”

Ah, well, if you can’t beat them…

“-tell me more.”

Join ‘em.

Geto’s sure the poor ol’ lady next to you faints.

.

.

.

“Fuck-” He’s whispering, cooped up in his dark apartment not even an hour after parting ways with you at the café. Apparently you’d left for a totally-not-date with Gojo- and Geto?

Oh, Geto had one hand wrapped around his aching cock to pump until his wrist ached.

Groaning at the squelch of his thumb smearing down the crown of his reddened shaft, he’s plugging up his bawling divot. Other hand reaching over to shuffle inside his bedside cabinet, “C’mon, where- where is- ah.”

There it was.

Geto’s fingers plunge out from the depths of the drawer, all wrapped up in the strappy lace of a pair of pretty pink panties. Your panties.

Ones you’d accidentally left after a sleepover - and really, you’d stolen more than enough of his Green Day t-shirts that he didn’t exactly feel bad about stealing them away.

About hastily plucking that cutesy underwear up and pushing it against his face, he’s rolling his glassy eyes back and sniiiiffing the sweet, sweet scent of you. That smell he couldn’t get enough of. So close and yet, so far.

“Sh-shit.” Geto’s heavy shaft grows even harder in his hand, and he didn’t even think that was possible. Sinking the fringes of his teeth into his bottom lip, he wraps the ribbony fabric ‘round his erection, “Oh, shouldn’t do this- r-really shouldn’t do this.”

But he can’t stop. Not when he’s fucking the plush comfort of his palm in repeated, sloppy strokes- and not even when Geto hears the bzzzt–! of his phone vibrating from that very same bedside cabinet.

Breath catching as he turns his head to blearily stare at the flashing screen - Pipsqueak. You. 

Ah…without a second thought, Geto grabs his phone with one hand, the other still tugging on the veiny shaft of his cock. Unlocking it to find that you’d sent a photograph of you - and the infamous Gojo himself. Mouth downturned, flush burning. 

The two of you were cramped into the frame, at the forefront of some aquarium. Innocent, surely- but Geto catches the glide of Gojo’s fingertips down the side of your waist, the way you’re leaning in just enough to let a flash of cleavage peek through.

Dilated pupils flickering between the two figures, he finds his tattooed hips thrusting—“Oh. I’m fucked.”

So very, very fucked.

And after this, he had an email to write. To none other than Yaga.

.

.

.

“Iori and Haibara. Ieri and Ijichi.” Professor Yaga’s bored, monotone voice drones through with his usual steady pace, announcing each pairing for the upcoming assignment.

A practical project, it seemed - and you can’t help but feel your heart race once he’s thumbing down the list of names. Finally announcing yours and…“Gojo.” But before you can show even the slightest bit of euphoria, Yaga’s tugging up his thick sunglasses. Raising a thick brow, he’s turning your way.

And for a split-second, you think he’s staring you down- that is, until you follow his line of sight and find that Yaga’s staring above you. Just the row above.

Exactly where Geto was. 

Eyes half-lidded, atmosphere surrounding him burning. Goosebumps prick down your spine, and you find yourself wondering what the hell was happening in this thick moment of silence. 

Evidently, Gojo’s musing the same from his seat right beside you. Whispering from the side of his maw, “What the hell? I haven’t seen Yaga look like that since the last time you started an argument with me during class, miss valedictorian.”

That damned know-it-all nickname.

You’re taking a good, long look at him - neat, crisp. The way his thick-rimmed glasses framed a slight cute frown, cosied up in a cotton vest that hid his muscular figure, his sapphire eyes twinkling through pale bangs as you sneer. 

“Satoru, that was your fault- and yesterday.”

“Well, it’s about to be right now.”

“You just want to be yelled at by me, perv.”

He’s opening his pouted mouth to snark back - but Yaga beats him to it. With a gruff, cutting announcement that neatly finishes off the rest of your little group, “-and Geto.” Only to turn away as if nothing ever happened, and rattle out the rest of his lengthy list. 

And Geto? You’re furrowing your brows- this was meant to be a paired project, wasn’t it? 

Well, not that you were unhappy to be with your best friend - it was rare that your uptight professor ever took his students’ preferences into consideration. But, according to your calculations, there wouldn’t have been any odd ones out in the student body, and Yaga had seemingly formed two trios for the sake of it. 

Question on your lips, you’re turning in your seat to face Geto. Only to meet his eyes and oh-

Something about him was almost predatory. Something dangerous. Something that makes you gulp, and Gojo squeeze his fingers with yours.

Resting his face upon one of his palms, Geto purrs—“Consider this project a…science experiment, gorgeous.”

.

.

.

A science experiment. 

A science experiment. 

Rubbing his swole n’ red cock raw to your photographs, writing an intently-worded email to Yaga with his choice for project pairings, and inviting the two of you to his apartment later - he was finally here, with his ‘science’ experiment. 

With his ringed fingers toying down the patterns of his throbbing shaft veins, listening to the way that Gojo made you let off the prettiest shrill whimpers. “F-fuck, don’t be shy.”

You didn’t even know how you were here - only seconds after entering Geto’s sprawling living room before you’re somehow laid across his couch. Sprawled across Gojo’s lap, still fully clothed but being kissed stupid.

The former gazing all the while, thick thighs manspread like he was watching a show of his very own. He’d moved one of his cushy armchairs to watch dead-on as Gojo lifts his mouth off of yours with a dampened slurp just to spit between your parted lips. 

Thwack! It’s gluing to the ridges of your tastebuds with a splatter, “Then you kiss me all proper, princess.” Gojo’s hissing between your swollen lips, the honed points of his canines nipping down on your maw just to get you to open wider. “Yer really embarrassing yourself in front of your best friend.”

Huffing, “I’m the- mmpf-”

Only to have your heated cavern stuffed with the expanse of his textured tongue. It’s just so sloppy how he’s kissing you, with the slimy edge of his muscle swirlin’ the insides of your maw as Geto snickers.

Unhinging your jaw open, you manage to muffle out. “I’m the one embarrassing myself?” The flat of your palm caresses vertically down the front of his cotton vest. All smart and sensible. Moving it down his bumpy pecs, then only further down his abs, down, down- 

Before clinging your greedy fingerpads onto the large, cylindrical length of his erection. All looong and hard, it’s laid out the side of his meaty right leg. “Who’s the one that’s rock fuckin’ hard already?”

“F-fuck.” He’s gasping into your touch, and through his linen pants you can feel the bulge of his cock twitch. Flinching needily enough that the syrupy puddle forming between his thighs starts to grow even sappier, “And whose fault is that~?‘

“Mmm– mine.”

“Heh, so you know how to take accountability?”

Vulgarly, the edges of your fingers twitch into a squeeze over the outline of his cock - so thick that your hand struggles to properly close around him. “Only for this.”

“You little-”

“So you two seriously argue during sex, too?” Geto’s husky voice breaks through, and you’re both snapping your head over to see the way his head tilts. The way he lurches his hips slightly off of his seat with a buck, fingers dragging down his veiny cock. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Noticing the silky scrap of fabric that sticks out from the gaps of his fingers, you’re whining at the sight of those familiar panties you’d lost months ago. “Suguru—”

“You can make those sounds for him, too?” Gojo snarls, rutting you up on his v-line so that your dazed head lolls back towards him. Swatting a hand down on the side of your ass cheek, he’s lifting your thin skirt enough to give Geto just a peek of your panties.

Possessive. Feral.

Something primal slips into Gojo’s throat as he toys with the wiry strings of your underwear, where he’s sure Geto can watch. “M’shocked we’re not fighting even more, miss valedictorian.”

“Sh-shut up.”

With a gasp, you’re pushin’ your sultry hips further down onto his. Grinding so that the slope of your slit presses through your panties and onto his fattened cock, just so wet that it leaves a glistening snail-trail between Gojo’s thighs.

“Mmm—” Geto departs with a chuckle, hands pumping even faster on the veiny, gleaming length of his cock until it was almost just a pinkish blur. He’s milking himself with a grunt at each lecherous interaction, “Keep going, gorgeous. Just like that.”

Shyly, you shift your restless hips, “B-but, Sugu…”

“Ohhh I like that.” Geto juts his chin up, nudging the rough fabric of his pants down to free a few more solid inches even more. “Say that again, pipsqueak.”

“S-Sug-”

“Nuh uh.” But before you know it, Gojo has a hand smushing your cheeks together into such a pathetic pout. Staring back down at him- “You’re going to say ‘Toru.’”

Geto muses, “Sugu.”

“Toru.”

“Sugu-”

“To-”

“P-please.” Your wailing cries cut through the slight battle, impatiently humping the plane of Gojo’s clothed pelvis at a pace that damn near reaches a fever-point. “Just want something- anything.” Head throwing back, babbling, oh-so-pretty that Geto puffs out a low hum, and tucks your soaked panties away.

“Then c’mere, gorgeous.”

Gojo interrupts, “What?”

“I said…” The tattooed man plows on, lips twitching even further into a grin once you’re standing up on wobbly legs. The flesh of your thighs squeezing together with each step, “-come here. You too, nerd.”

Oh.

Oh. 

And you can’t even remember the treacherous trek you take to clamor up onto Geto’s widespread thighs, he’s just so big n’ beefy that it takes you a few tries to properly straddle his toned hips. Grappling your two hands on top of his round deltoids, “L-like this, Suguru?”

“Atta girl, there you go.” Perking you up further- he takes a second to admire you. To memorize you. To take in every heady pant of yours and each dry hump of your cunt. 

Before tugging a girthy finger upon the sides of your current panties and teeearing straight through them. Skirt next to follow. 

Gojo can only watch in utter awe as he’s bared to your pretty, sopping pussy from behind- fuck, he’s never going to get used to this. Joints weakening, mouth parched, his towering frame falls to his knees at merely the sight. 

“Pussy got your tongue, Toru?” You’re tittering once Gojo’s only saddling up behind you on the carpet, glasses now level with your slick-glazed lips. Close. 

“Well, he will have your pussy, pipsqueak.” Geto’s piping up from underneath you, sliding further down the armchair so that Gojo’s nose sticks to the outer part of your sheeny cunt. “But where do you want me? Here?” Groping your ass, “Orrrr here?” Your thighs. “Or-”

“No teasing, Suguru.”

“Oh, gorgeous, I could go allll fucking day without…” One of his rings shaped into a gothic skull traces your cunt, “-dessert.” 

Gojo scoffs, “Well, I’m fucking starved-”

Geto grins, “And I wanna kiss these lips first.”

“O-oh mm–” It was just maddening- the very nanosecond that Gojo’s hearing he’ll be having your sweet, honeyed pussy all to himself, he’s plastering his mouth to your folds. 

Stirring the curvy edge of his tongue instantly past your soppy entrance, puckering you up for a saccharine kiss. Latching his glossy lips down to the swollen fringe of your pussylips, he throws his head back and grins. “Nothing smart to say now, miss hah- valedictorian?”

“Now now, of course, she doesn’t.” And it’s the very moment that Geto’s mouth kisses your own that you’re realizing he didn’t have just snake bites - he’d hidden away a frigid, metallic tongue piercing. 

That slick spheroid wafting between your lips, Geto’s drinking you in like he’s a man parched. And every cute bubble of spit spilling from your mouth was the first droplet of water he’s had in eons. Feeling his smug grin across your lips, “Not when she’s kissing me, of course.”

“Tch- as if.” Gojo spits- literally, a great, glittery wad of spittle that thrashes past your quivering hole. Salivating his tongue to push juuuust inside, just teasing the tight ring of your cunt with his velvety tongue. “S’because of me. Her vaginal introitus is just drooling.”

And oh- Gojo’s tongue is just so flexible. Swabbing the tender orifices of your sleek cunt with his pointed tip, he bullies a few inches past your entrance and makes you whine. “P-please- ngh more, Satoru. F-fuck me like you mean it.”

Snickering, Gojo only swats the right side of your ass cheek, gripping it to haul your wildly bucking body further against his face. Until his chin hits your treacly cunt, until his nostrils can’t even breathe-

“Aw, nothing f’me?” Geto coos, and while you’re all jostling and thrashing, one of his ringed hands plummet down the side of your body. Pryin’ apart your slick-glued folds to press his knobbled index on top of your clit like a button. “You’re my best friend. What if I wan’ a taste, too?”

Your breath hitches by the time he’s glazing his finger across your creamy pussy already, covering it with just enough layers of your juices. Just enough to hover up into his mouth and suck.

Gasping, “But you’re already…”

“S’not enough.” And while Gojo slips n’ slides his flattened tongue between your pussylips, Geto puckers his maw up to yours. Hazy amethyst irises only half-opened, mouth quirking just at the ends. “Spit.”

It happens all at once- you’re spitting inside Geto’s mouth and he moans at the taste of you, never one to be forgotten, Gojo splats out saliva on your cunt and forces his impaling tongue inside.

“Oh, your bartholin glands are just sopping all over me, so much- ngh- leukorrhea.” Babbling away, Gojo’s letting out such noisy smacks each time he flops his tongue out to flick your shaky hole. Harder. Deeper. 

He’s eating you out like he’s addicted to it, the long length of his pale lashes fluttering every time the sharpness of his jawline pushes against your slam-contacted flesh until he can’t push himself even further. 

Until the rim of his spectacles coldly swats your pussy and makes him stutter, “W-wonder if I can reach the ngh- Gräfenberg spot like this…” Tugging you back with trembling hands, the thickness of his tongue probes even deeper against your walls. “More- if only I can-”

“You’re never reaching it like that, nerd.” Geto rolls his eyes, back to slithering his right hand down and cupping your pussy. 

He snickers each time he’s feeling the silky crowns of his fingerpads brush against Gojo’s thrashing tongue. Toying with the other man, he’s covering the nub of your pulsing clit each n’ every time, just so that Geto can be the one to give it a good, long pinch.

It’s just so cute how you buck into him with a hollow gasp, “Wh-what did I say about teasing, Sugu–”

“Just can’t help it, pipsqueak.” Your best friend purrs, snagging the sharpened ends of his snake bites against your lips. Bouncing his meaty thighs, running your cunt ragged with each rough drag down his loose, ripped jeans. 

Once. Twice. Again and again- until Gojo’s clawing a hand on the side of your glissading hips to stop your slobbering cunt from darting too far away from him. You squeal, “W-wait, ohh ngh- Satoru, m’not gonna last like this–”

The dual stimulation was just rendering you stupid, twitching on top of Geto’s lap each time he’s scraping your pussy down to ride his tattooed thighs. Every bounce leaves you recoiling right back into Gojo’s mouth, mouth watering at the rovering push of his tongue entering you. And out. In and out-

“Good.” Thwack! Spanking one of his emblem rings down on your clit, “Because I think m’getting impatient here. I’ve been waiting for ages, after all.”

“A-ages?”

“Mhm— oh, you have noooo idea, gorgeous.” Drawling out, Geto’s driving you crazy with the twist of his hips angling you properly. 

Making it just so that your pussylips spread wiiide open to ride his leg like you were pouring your sheeny slick out all over it. Just so that Gojo’s angular tongue can sharply strike near your g-spot, just so that you’re cumming before you know it.

It runs you over in a sudden wave, and before you know it- you’re simply seeing pure white. “O-oh my god. Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, m’cumming—” Glassed irises running cartoonish circles inside the whites of your eyes with each swivel. 

Head falling forwards into the crook of Geto’s neck, hips planted firmly on Gojo’s face - exactly where he wanted it. 

And he’s lavishing his tongue allll over your quivering pussy, draggin’ out each spike of your high with a stretching thrust. “Oh- oh, m’fucking starved, princess. Like that, cum- cum on my ngh- tongue. My tongue.” Dilated blue eyes blinking up drunkenly, “My tongue only.”

Geto raises a dark brow, “Yours only?”

Gojo pipes up with a glistening grin, slapping away Geto’s tuggin’ fingerpads to suckle on your clit like a sweetened piece of candy. “Yeah. Too fucking late now, aren’t you?”

Chilling spheroid tongue piercing licking down your salivating lips, “You sure?”

“Positive.”

Almost in response, Gojo’s wrapping his beefy forearms back around your inner thighs. Planting your overstimulated cunt even deeper across his mouth, digging his glasses back into his straight nosebridge - it didn’t matter if Gojo would suffocate if it meant he could go out with the syrupy taste of your slick drivelling down the sides of his mouth.

But Geto only coos, looking down at the other man through his inky locks. “Don’t be like that— didn’t all your books ever teach you about sharing?” 

“M’not sharing my girl’s pussy.”

“Mhm?”

It was a challenge. 

And both treated it as such.

You’re being tugged ‘round in the middle like some boneless ragdoll, the hazy state of your mind spinning once Geto stands up. For a split-second. 

And seats you down all prettily on the armchair he was in, with your legs splayed wiiiide open with a deafening wet squelch of your pussy. Gojo’s coral pink lips parting into a soft oh! when the other man kneels down right beside him on the ground - both of them on their knees for you.

Both of them latching onto one of your legs with pawing hands, nudging them further open to accommodate their hulking sizes. To accommodate the way that both Geto and Gojo tackle themselves down to eat your drippin’ pussy at the same time.

Again. 

“H-hold on- both of you- oh, mmm, fuck.” And you can’t do anything but cling your clammy palms onto both of their heads. “I don’t know if I even can hck! cum again so soon.”

“You will, princess.”

“We’ll make sure of it.”

Gojo on your left, Geto on your right- they’re flopping out two lengthy pinkish tongues between your trembling thighs. Sloshing against each other, fighting against each other, each of their pretty features plastered upon the inner side of each leg. 

And where Gojo was eager, Geto was teasing. He was mean- lining the slick slit of your cunt with looooong, tender glides. He snickers once he’s feeling the other man impatiently thrust into your hole, “Mmm–fuck! Sweeter than I ever imagined.”

“I know.” Gojo’s snowy brows knit, chin polishing with ribbons of your juices each time he nodded his head down to shove past your first tight ring of muscle. Pumping you full. Beading your every nook and cranny with a thorough probe of his tastebuds, “And she’s my hah- miss valedictorian- isn’t that right, princess?”

“Y-you’re both acting so- hck!” It’s a wonder you even could speak with how much they were ruining your damn pussy. “-ch-childish- fuck.”

Lapping up every dribbling ounce of slick you gave off, licking into every and any spot on you that they could scour. And you were so much extra aroused now, a pure translucent waterfall sticking down the fronts of their chins with every too-sensitive touch.

Hell, you’re blinking your watery eyes down to watch the way that Gojo’s thumbing apart your swollen folds just so that he could plunge his tongue inside deeper. Faster. 

Sloppier. 

Slipping over each other, chins knocking, greedy.

With the rawest, loudest squeeelch–! Geto lingers his piercing over your clit, taking full claim with the way he’s sucking. “She might be your ‘miss valedictorian’...” Groaning, you’re feeling his glinting canines bite down once on the nearby flesh of your thigh, and then twice on your oversensitive clit - enough to leave a slight mark. “-but she’s my pipsqueak. So if I wanna taste, m’getting it. Isn’t that riiight—?” 

THWACK!

Spanking your clit just so you’re crying out-

“S’what I thought.” Geto hums.

And that’s exactly what he was doing - what they both were doing.

Two soppily wet tastebuds rubbin’ your pussy all over until you were oversensitive, and the way they’re fighting to see who occupies the most of your sweet, sweet cunt is just animal.

Gojo pushin’ his face deeper until the line of his glasses left bright red marks on his flushed face, Geto instead moving you- gluing a palm on the side of your hips and jerking you to him.

“O-oh nghhh it feels shoooo good-” You’re slurring, so stimulated that your hands wrestle for purchase on the chair’s cushion each time you’re throwing your head back and bucking up, up, up. 

“Good? Good, gorgeous–?”

“Mhm—”

Cunt throbbing oh-so-badly at every slash of their tongue, the way that Geto grips a hand onto the back of Gojo’s head to guide him into your favorite spots. Nudging your earliest bundles of nerves with his probin’, thumping tastebuds.

Your breath catches with a sob within your clogged throat at the sight of Geto usin’ that tight leverage to tilt Gojo’s head ever-so-slightly so that their tongues meet each other. 

Filthy oodles of saliva watering over the edge of the other man’s tongue as he moans, Geto’s grinning when he’s kissing both your sappy cunt and him. “Don’tcha even know how ta properly eat a girl out, nerd?”

“I-I do-”

“Spit.”

“What?”

“Spit.”

In a sultry split-second, your already drenched pussy is being swamped by two steady streams of saliva. Spitting. Geto’s tongue everywhere, he sucks on your perked clit while Gojo back takes over sinking his honed muscle inside your gummy walls. “Tch, s’that all you got, Suguru? You clearly don’t even know the nghh- benefits of stimulating her adventitia-”

“That’s not shit, what you’ve gotta do is- hahh-” Geto departs a sweltering hot gust of breath, letting Gojo’s curling pink tongue thrash inside your pussy while he snagged three ringed fingers on your rim and push-push-puuuushes inside. “-stretch her pretty lil’ cunt wiiiide open.”

“F-fuuck why is it so big–” You’re whining, crying. Legs hooking over both their shoulders to bring them together. The sheer scrape of Geto’s metallic rings against your sweet spots makes you see stars, “Don’t think m’gonna last long…”

“C-close, huh?” Gojo drags out through a breathy tone - and there’s something higher-pitched in his tone, something that almost sounded gone. Such a primal tinge to his tone, he’s nuzzling his nose against your clit and making such a mess. 

Geto grunts, rosy lips pulling back into a snarling grin by the time he gives you one-two-three sloppy strokes. Reaching for the plush area of your g-spot “What did I say? Gotta stretch her reeeal big so she can take me-” Hitting it - hard. “-isn’t that right, pretty lady?”

He wasn’t even talking to you at this point - just your pussy. And you swear you’re feeling the pointed nib of even Gojo’s falter slightly on your clit as he speaks.

Squelch after squelch, they’re both pulling out of you when you’re only growing wetter. The tips of your toes curling inwards as you’re feeling your tummy spark near familiar bliss, “S-Sugu–!”

THWACK!

The stinging noise rings out before you’re even feeling the burning ache, the way that Geto’s firm fingerpads stick to your plump cunt in a sharp swat. Him snickering, “See?”

“You’re insane.” Gojo titters back, prattling. 

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for ngh- this, nerd.” Ever since he first met you that fateful orientation day, in fact. Tongue piercing tickling your clit, fighting Gojo’s tongue for purchase. “Have no- fucking- clue-”

“Don’t give a fuck-” And he didn’t - really, really didn’t. The glasses-clad man doesn’t think he could even register anything other than the streaming sap your cunt was gushing out onto his tongue, and the way your hole quivered in that way that told him you were close. Again. “Just wan’ you to cum on my t-tongue, princess.”

“Heh- you’re better like this, Toru.”

“Shut up and cum.”

Long, ivory bangs soft against the bottom of your tummy with how close he’s diving himself nose-deep. More. Gojo ruts against the cushion of the armchair, knees dragging against the carpet as he’s lunging even further- and he doesn’t even notice. 

“Easy there, gonna suffocate-”

You run your hands through his sweaty scalp, breath heightening. “Yeah, you ngh- okay?”

Grunting at the texture of Geto’s own tongue, “Mmmm– no.” Gojo’s classes are completely fogged-up at this point, and he’s only clashing them further. Adding one of his own lengthy fingers past your hole so that he can pump furiously. Both their hands so dexterous. “Muscularis contracting- ngh, even more leukorrhea- wet. Gonna cum- gonna cum gonna cum—”

And that’s exactly all it takes - the slightest, tiniest bend of Gojo’s stifling digits thumping your g-spot in carnal unison with Geto’s ringed ones, and then you’re reaching your orgasm. For the second time.

Hips fully wrenching off of the dampened chair cushions to push your two boys with a generous mouthful of your candied pussy- one they’re salivating over gratefully. Repeatedly targeting your favorite spots with their fingers, maws further agape, eyes rolling to the back of their heads.

You can only hit your chin against your chest to take in the lewd, lewd sight of being eaten out by both Gojo and Geto. “Sh-shiiit–” Cheeks wet with tears, “Never cum like this- ngh, it’s so- oh.”

“Please- that’s it, use me.” Gojo recants back, giving his features up for you to conduct such long, slobbering drags. “Use me, princess- ngh- m’fucking starved. Ohhh, fucking love this pussy. M’gonna eat you out for the rest of my life, miss valedictorian.”

Smirking, Geto pins your gyratin’ hips down and watches as Gojo blindly whines. Chasing the taste of your cunt just so he can lap you through your wet high. “Heh- you’re damn pussydrunk, nerd.” Turning to you with hooded eyes, your best friend’s making sure he murmurs this into your overstimulated pussy. “And you’re dumbified, my cute lil’ pipsqueak.”

Though, it’s not like he was any better.

But before Geto’s forced to bite down on his lower lip and bite back pure whimpers at the oversaturation of your taste, he pulls away.

Painfully, with a final sopping thwack! of his palm coming down to strike your cunt. Your eyes are just barely open enough to make out the fuzzy shapes of Geto pulling Gojo backwards, too, with a hand at his throat. 

Watching as his lips detach from your pussy with a wet plop! strings of slick scattering all over his maw. Watching as his neat glasses stick to your pussy n’ he has to manually smear them back up his nosebridge, “Oi- the fuck do you think you’re doing, punk?”

“Well, you can make out with her pussy all you want, nerd.” Geto’s piercings glint as he pinches his index and thumb into a circle. Sticking his tongue lewdly between that hole, “I wanna fuck it.”

“Oh…” You can only ogle unabashedly once the two make quick work of discarding your top n’ bra, then their own clothes - Gojo’s two layers of vests, his formal pants, and Geto’s torn band t-shirt and washed jeans. All in a pile somewhere by your throne of an armchair. 

They couldn’t be more different.

And that went for their hot, rock-hard cocks, too - where Gojo was longer, Geto was thicker. 

Both oh-so-massive that it has your thighs clenching in both fear and anticipation, you can’t help but stare at the way that Gojo was so fuckin’ red that the bulging end of his shaft looked like strawberry. And just as thick, he’s glazing himself with so many layers of slick pre that fall down his lengthy member. 

And Geto- oh, Geto’s was the sexiest tannish pink at his tip. Covered with so many puffy veins that you’re almost missing the line of a few silver barbells lining his fat shaft. A Jacob’s Ladder piercing - with a studded Prince Albert’s at the very bottom of his thoroughly flared tip. 

Where Gojo’s cock was utterly pretty and made your cunt water, Geto’s looked like he was about to positively ruin you.

“Heh, that’s cute.” Your best friend croons, catching both your gaped staring. Gojo quickly snaps himself out of it, hands reaching for your open thighs to-

“Ah ah, dibs.” Geto slaps his hand away, and it takes him only a second to pick you up as if you were weightless. All carried in his broad arms - his shoulders were so muscular - to the nearby bedroom and lay you flat on the bouncy mattress. 

Hovering over you, you take the opportunity to mindlessly gawk at him in a way you didn’t allow yourself to before. Everything from the sinful silver piercings that punctured his rosy nipples, to the stark black dragon tattooed across his back and down to his hips- and wait.

Your eyes damn near pop out of your head- right on the left side of his prominent v-line…was that…a tattoo of your first initial? 

Geto catches the beeline of your eyesight and muses, “Got it in secret honor of my- ah, best friend.” Leaning in, “N’ you’re gonna feel it reeeal up close and personal now, best friend.”

Gojo calls out as he follows inside, “Oi- first come first haaaah- serve. Isn’t that right, princess?” 

Before you can answer, Geto cuts in- “Then, I’m first-‘ Shoving the other man slightly, fighting for who gets the first touch of your pussy on their aching cocks. Geto’s cleanly pushes your boneless body onto all fours, stood by the edge of his bed. “-because you were my gorgeous girl first, riiiight—?”

“O-oh–! Yes- I mean no- I mean…” You’re yelping the very instant his cold, orbed piercing runs lazily down your slit from behind. And you whimper as the bed dips with a creak, revealing Gojo in all his needy glory - pale thighs parted about the length of your head, so towering where he was starin’ down at you through his thick glasses. 

“Ya hear that, nerd?”

Gojo rolls his eyes, one hand smearing the plump pinkish curvature of his cock between your glossed lips. “Tch- my princess disagreed. Clearly.”

With a cackle, Geto slobbers his drooling mushroom tip down your folds- making sure that Gojo’s ears burn at the lecherous squeeelch-! that’s sounding out once he does. And you swear you’re seeing fucking stars by the time that he manspreads his sculpted thighs part and presses his thick circumference in—

“Shit- shit shit shit—” You’ve never been so stretched, and the utter fuckin’ girth of his circumference makes your eyes tear up pathetically. “How are you so bi- mmmpf!”

If you thought that stretch between your shaky, sheened legs was incredible- then you absolutely weren’t ready for the way that Gojo’s barging his prolonged cock right between your gawking mouth. Filling up your hot gummy maw with a few solid inches of his length, he wasn’t even bottomed-out yet, and you swear you could already feel him at your throat.

“Easy there, pipsqueak. Eeeasy does it.” Geto croaks out from behind you, shuffling his toned hips ever-so-slightly closer. Just the merest deepening entrance enough to make you salivate.

“Shiiiit- dunno who’s glands are l-leaking more- ” Gojo hisses, heavy lids flapping at the feeling of your treacly saliva gluing against the underside of his shaft. “Your pretty mouth, or your cunt…”

And you didn’t know either- hell, you couldn’t even think at this point.

It was just rendering you so dumb having both your slick orifices plugged up, Geto’s tattooed hips relentlessly pushing in half-thrusts from behind. Gojo clawing on top of your clammy crown and nudging your lolling head down further—

Managing to somehow muffle out, “Ngh- hck- so mm-much—” 

“Yeahhh, as you like it, g-gorgeous.” Something in Geto’s voice shatters the very moment he’s able to slip his rigid cockhead in n’ swab your entrance with the point of his piercing. 

Usin’ it like some cute lil’ searchlight as he’s pressing the cold metal against the sides of your stretchy walls, scouring down each side of your pussy for that spot of your nerves. The rub of his Jacob’s Ladder was mind-numbing, miniscule knobbled barbells poking tender crevices you didn’t even know existed. “Want you and this ngh- p-pretty lady right here nice n’- happy- and-”

Each word was punctuated by the most probing thrust of Geto’s powerful hips, easing the measurement of his cock inside you with the sloppiest noises. 

Damn near muffling out your shrills when his pure pressure forces you forwards to pump even more of Gojo’s leaking shaft down your relaxed throat. Deeper. Harder. 

“And taking- this-” With a hand on your hips, Geto reels you in- only for Gojo to scramble a grip on your throat and keep you with him. A tug-of-war. Pushing. Pulling. 

And the only thing that both can think to do is urge their capped knees closer to you on the bed and split you wiiiide open-

“-biiiig stretch.” Geto finishes off.

Just as he bottoms out inside of your sweltering cunt, your initial kissin’ your skin, just as Gojo scratches the edge of your nose on his tufted white happy trail.

Both of them.

And they’re not wasting a single second - not even a split-second. 

Because once your hot, clenchin’ holes have greedily swallowed up both of them, they’re rutting their hips back and half-thrusting. Not even fully- just half just to feel your heat, the sweet softness of you.

“Fuh-fuck, your buccal mucosa just feels sooo ngh-” Gojo’s babbling away, neck still held deftly within his fingers as he’s swervin’ his hips back to dab the very back of your throat with the fleshy circle of your tip. “Th-think I’m hitting all the way at your ngh- palate-”

Geto rolls his hazed eyes, tugging your hips back to strike your ass cheeks against his toned v-line. Hard enough that your mouth leaves Gojo’s bulbous tip with a pop! “D’you always needa talk like ngh- that, nerd?”

“Do you always need to be s-so filthy, punk?” The other man snarls, tempting his hips closer so that you’re almost squished between the two.

“Mmm—” Geto pretends to think, tapping the point of his chin with one hand, whilst the other smears your ass cheeks open to take a vulgar look at your cunt from behind. And he doesn’t answer- not at first, what he’s doing is spitting a cool wad of saliva that darts straightly down to your slit. “Hell yeah.”

With a roll of his shoulders, he’s thrashing the globular ends of his reddened, swollen shaft into your deepest depths. And it feels like you’re just melting around him, “So shut up and fuck, nerd.”

And Gojo Satoru was always first in class - if you weren’t, that is - you think he ever needed to be told anything twice?

Nibbling onto his pouty lower lip, Gojo darts one of his carnally itching fingerpads up and squeezes your flared nostrils - already rubbed raw by the massage of his ivory, curly hair. 

Giggling something drunken as you sputter and choke on his throbbing shaft, “Fuck nnngh- you’re a dirty fucking girl, miss valedictorian-” He hisses, he’s spitting through clenched teeth every time the bumpy texture of your tastebuds were rovering down his tender underside. 

Were latching onto the pulsating lines of his veins, and making him groan. Heavy, pink balls tighening each time they strike-strike-strike your chin, “S-sooo much better with my hah- fat fuckin’ cock stuck between those lips.”

Whining, you couldn’t even pant out in wailing gasps each time Geto’s bulbous piercings were crazing your bubblegum walls like a ladder. “F- mm fuck y-”

Squeezing your nose even tighter- “Fuck me?” Gojo titters out from above, and it’s almost humiliating the way he blushes as he looks down at you above his pecs, flexing core rippling with each hasty jackhammer.

Mean. His mouth was so mean, and the way his thumb drifts down the forefront of your throat, feeling for that bulge where his cock was driving was even meaner. 

He could feel himself. Feel you taking him. “Y-you’re the one being fucked right now, princess.” 

“Mhm— and by me.” And the very second that Gojo lets your nose free to breathe, Geto snakes his clit down to pinch your sopping wet clit. 

“No- yes! Please-” You’re mewling, “Close- I-I’m so close- ngh-”

Your best friend leans in so close to whisper against the shell of your ear; letting his tattooed pecs glue to your back, lengthy locks tickling the arch of your sweaty spine. Holding on close. Hard. “No? Close? Make up your mind.”

You can only spit through an open maw—“No- yes- fuuuuck m-more.”

Absolutely ruined, and neither of them have ever seen you like this.

“H-her nucleus accumbens is going into overdrive-” Gojo sputters out, and you’re starin’ through your teary lashes at the cute way his condensation-filled glasses slip down his nose with each battering ram of his ravaged cock. “Which- hck! which means decreased activity in the cerebral cortex and- and it means…”

“Spit it out, nerd.”

“She’s close.”

“Haaah- coulda told you ngh- that.” And, truly, you’re squeezing your pretty bubblegum walls ‘round him so tight that it’s almost hard for Geto to pull back and forth in repeated thrusts. “Gonna cum f’me, pipsqueak? C’mon cooome on- let your best friend hah- fill you up, would you?”

You’re whining, “Please-” Heard sparking with whatever jumbled mess that Gojo had talked about and you couldn’t even begin to make sense right now. “Close- gonna- ngh-”

“Wait- you’re cumming inside fir- fuck!” Gojo gapes, only to hunch his washboard abs forwards and drive into you at the flick of your velvety tongue on his sensitive slit - his favorite. Only to cum- and the sight of you gulping down his milky mess, letting it dribble all down your bobbing throat was so sexy that Geto can’t help but lose it, too. 

Shit- that was fast. Faster than he’d ever been with your panties snugly wrapping his cock and your photograph in hand - but your quivering, wet pussy just felt so good that he’s squelching out his orgasm once he’s feeling yours.

Long, ribbony bouts of seed that were just scalding puddling at the bottom of your pussy- you swear you’re feeling it slosh about inside of you with each tiny motion. Splashing inside your mouth.

All for you to swallow. 

All three at once, you didn’t even think you could cum again before Geto’s giving you a carnal pinch to your clit. “Cum—ing– ngh.” You’re heavily gulping the ivory sap that glazes your tongue, eyes rolling back in utterly stupid bliss. “Please- oh.”

“No one taught you not to talk with your- haaah- mouth full, hm?” The man above you gruffs out through a dry gasp, hips sloppy. Chest heaving. Ringed, sticky digits twitching. “No one-” His breath hitches as he’s feeling your unsteady hips sliiide off of his pummeling cock, “Oh, where’d you think you’re going?”

“Nononono- no-” Gojo snarls, properly bearing his glinting canines like he was more animal than man right about now. Tuggin’ you back with the hand bruising your throat, “If m’fucking your creampie then I get to ngh- have her to myself a bit. Open.”

Breathless, you’re lolling out your tongue and gazing up at the way the towering man’s eyes widen at the lack of anything in your mouth. The way you’d swallowed it all. “M’gonna have so much fun this time.”

Wait…your eyes widen. Still jolting bodily with sparking bouts of electricity, your third - was that even the correct number - orgasm wasn’t even bating before they’re talking about the next.

Unaffected, Geto only rolls his eyes- and his fingers over your drivelling slit. Practically turned into a waterfall of his buttery white cum, making you pull off of Gojo’s cock with a hiss at his rude fingertips. “Oh, shut it.” 

Before either of you can blink- before you can even breathe, your best friend’s stuffing your breaths all the way back into your screaming lungs. 

All by sticking his cum-glazed finger inside your mouth, swirlin’ that creamy polish into your deepest crannies. “Hm…you, too.” And in mere nanoseconds, Geto has his white syrupy fingerpads stuffed inside Gojo’s mouth. 

“What- mmpf–” Your mouthy academic rival just looks so pretty with thick fingers plunged between his spit-glittered lips. Pale brows scrunching together, face red-hot, a thin line of cum trickling slowly down the side of his suckling mouth.

And it’s enough so that your ravenous hips start lurching down the expanse of Geto’s cock- as if to milk him for more. 

“Hehhh–?” He’s grinning through his shaggy raven strands at your motions, pulling back his fingers with a squelch. “What a filthy girl- stuffed you with so much cum you’re over ngh- overspilling, and you still wan’ more?” 

With only your cutesy babbles for an answer, you’re feeling him straighten his muscular core up to face Gojo even more. “So, you either fuck her w’my cum inside- or, watch as I fill her up with s-so much of my cum she can’t not feel it inside-”

“Shut up n’ let me fuck my girl, punk.”

“Mm— that’s not having the hah- reaction you want, nerd.” As if to prove his point, Geto’s gleaming cock twitches when he’s easing out of you with a raw slurp. Slowly, but surely, he takes his sweet, sweet time to remind you of the pattern of piercings lining his frenulum. “Our girl, you mean.”

You’re swearing he’s only getting even bigger at the sight of you- draped across Gojo’s thoroughly sculpted front not even a moment later. Your cunt frosted white with his own cum, Gojo’s bulbous mushroom tip bulging your pussylips wiiide open. Impatient.

“Oh.” Geto manages to pant out.

Just barely lets himself even breathe before he’s dropping further down the protesting bedsprings, all the way until his hot breaths breeze across your oversensitive pussy in a lil’ ‘hello.’

Grunting, Gojo tugs your chin back over to face him - resting flatly on his back so you’re trembling n’ limp on his abs. 

“Mmm– hello, princess.” He’s crooning out with his deep, rasping voice. And you answer with a whimper of your own at the sexy feeling of his core flexing underneath you, pecs all bouncy in the way they had no right to be.

He was so big - both of them were, Gojo being taller where Geto was broader. 

Yet, both numerous inches over six feet and sandwiching you with their chiseled weights as you’re settling on top of Gojo. Cushioned over his broad, flushed chest, you feel him cup your sweaty cheek,  “Heh, d-don’t think you can be valedictorian like this.”

You’re marrying your brows in what looked like such adorable annoyance to his half-lidded eyes. “Mmm—how are you gonna say that when hck! you’re the one that got pussydru- oh, fuck.”

Fuck, and then you’re promptly shut up by Geto’s tongue slithering slimily between the folds of your pussy. Letting his curly tip lap up every wadded ounce of cum overspilling out of you, “Oh, don’t stop on mmm- my accounts. Always so cute when yer mad, pipsqueak.”

“I was thinking more hot—” Gojo’s moaning out, bucking- and he was still so rock-hard. So needy that just the slightest slip n’ slide across your outer pussy makes him rut- “Fuck.”

And it makes him sink inside, just the slightest push of his thick, rotund crown. Your filthy hole plugs up with his strawberry-pink tip and you’re finding yourself gasping.

“Not gonna help me clean up, nerd?”

“Sh-shut the fuck up-” Gojo’s scrunching his brows until he’s feeling dizzy- or maybe that was just the sopping, soft feeling of your pussy. Opening up such a primal part of him once he’s listening to the swampy noises being pulled out, “Her pussy- o-ohhh this pussy…your adventitia stretches so, the way you’re- I can’t…”

You’d made one of the smartest, most eloquent men on campus speechless. 

“And you call me filthy.” Geto chuckles darkly from behind you, still not stopping. Still letting the pierced muscle of his tongue swirl right near your entrance, each solid inch that Gojo was bullying inside made you leak onto his tastebuds with a splat!

Filthy.

Absolutely filthy. You couldn’t even begin to describe the sensation when Gojo’s starting to pick up his pace- to start driving his hips in a back n’ forth that only lets him pound you with half-thrusts.

Shaft so plump that it won’t even fit- he’s arching his slam-reddened hips up from the mattress to push and push and push. “S’my turn now- my- hck! gonna take this fucking cock, right, princess?” Gojo strangles out, “Right- right?”

Voice pitching higher, unsteadily cracking.

He can’t stop himself from firmly planting his two feet spread further just so he can cling onto your hips and gift you direct slams. Deeper. 

“Please- s-so biiig— will it even fit.”

Gojo shoots a prideful glance down at Geto, who only thumbs apart your bruised n’ battered pussylips with a smirk. “Of course, it will.” And you’re jolting at the burning sensation of his ringed thumb pushing inside of your wet hole, just to stretch you out even wider for Gojo. 

THWACK!

He’s tittering meanly as the little spank leaves you leaking from the sides of your stretched-out hole, a little trail of creamy white for him to lick down. Frigid orb of his piercing just lightly skimming Gojo’s own tender shaft, “If you’re good that is, gorgeous.”

“Yeah- yeah.” Gojo’s panting out, so drunk on the sappy texture. He felt like your elastic walls were just molding to his exact size, so tight n’ warm. “Why don’tcha count for me, miss valedictorian?”

“C-count? Satoru, what do you- oh.”

Oh was right- by the way the inches of his cock flinched inside of you. He wanted you to count how many inches he was - and you swear you hear even Geto hum in interest from behind. 

Smirking to himself, oh, he’s got his mouth open to drool and make such a mess as Gojo starts stirrin’ your dewy insides with the ragged lines of his veins. Pulling back all the way until his rounded cockhead stretches your entrance, “One- c’mon, one.”

“O-one-” You’re echoing out after Gojo- but oh, even that was a fucking feat. Especially with Geto’s twirling tongue piercing rubbin’ all over your overstuffed slit. Hiccuping, “Two-”

“Mhm—?”

“Three- ngh- five.”

Geto snickers, “Does five come after three?”

“Heh, not so smart now, huh?” Gojo lazes his tongue out for you to suckle on whilst you quietly sob at the utter size of him, he just kept going and going. Like it was never-ending, Gojo’s pretty pink girth kisses the very area of your g-spot without even trying- 

“Then just shut up and fuck me, Toru- oh.”

He does. Oh, you think Gojo could ever deny you?

Bottoming out with an angry jackhammer, “Ten–!” You find yourself throwing your head back with a keen, feeling that shuddering thump of his weepy shaft strike the back of your cervix. Hard. With ten solid, throbbing inches somehow shovelled inside of you, you’re bucking backwards in figure-eights, “Ten- ten ten ten- please-”

“Mmm, my turn, pipsqueak.”

Stupidly, your maw splits open with a gush of saliva- “H-huh?”

“You heard me- heh, or are you that fucked out, already?” Geto was just so mean, taking his sensual time to finish drinking up the salted caramel taste of his gooey cum dripping out of you. Until you were all niiiice and clean.

Gojo gives you another few repeated whacks to your most tender spots, almost like he was staking his claim. Eyes narrowed through slimy, slick-sprayed glasses, “Oi- you already got your turn.”

“Yeah n’ now m’fucking hard again.” Rolling his lavender eyes, Geto tuts at the impatient, sloppy way Gojo was fucking into you. “Make yerself useful and open her pretty legs a little wider.”

Grumbling, you’re oh-so-shocked to find that Gojo Satoru actually does what he’s told. 

“You hafta teach me how to do that-” You’re jesting, only to get punished with another merciless bruise gliding down your cervix.

“Hahhh- yeahhh, you know it.” Your best friend nods down at you, “That’s it. Now arch those hips up f’me now.”

Something like a territorial growl rips from the back of Gojo’s throat as he feels Geto hover onto his knees from behind. Leaning forwards until his silky, Stygian hair fell like a curtain around you two. “Now, wan’ you to count again- both of you.”

Both?

Evidently, the same thing is registering in Gojo’s mind because he squawks- “B-both?”

“Ya heard me.” Turning your head over your shoulder, you’re noticing that there’s something devilish glinting within Geto’s priggish smile. With a tilt of his head he’s pushing his plump cockhead to kiss the entrance to your cunt. Your already-full entrance. “Count. And m’not talking about how many inches.”

You whine, “Then what do you expect us t-to…”

Oh, and then you’re getting it. And Gojo is, too.

Because in that instant, Geto’s drawing that cold, circular piercing of his slit along the outside of your pussy folds. The down Gojo’s shaft, then slipping it inside-

“One- ohhh-fuck!” It comes tumbling out of your mouth before you can control yourself, and your hips are gyrating back crazily to chase the incredible stretch of a second thick cock entering you. Struggling to. Aching to. “One, ngh– Sugu, please.”

“Atta giiiirl-” Geto coos, the long locks of his bangs flying as he turns his head to Gojo. “Yer falling behind, nerd.”

“…”

With a tut, he’s rolling his hips, “Come on-”

“Oh-” Comes out that pretty, pretty gasp from the edges of your spit-glossed lips. Feeling the cold line of Geto’s second piercing - his Jacob’s Ladder, this time - just grazing the treacly base of your pussy. “T-two…?”

“Two.” Gojo spits out, in reluctant unison with you as that chilling metal touches his fragile shaft- and he hates to admit that it just made his mouth water.

“Theeere we go.”

With one hand groping the backs of your thighs to stretch you out wiiide open for him, and the other rovering underneath your tummy to feel you bulge with two monstrous cocks- Geto sinks his way inside. 

Twitching his red, flared tip upwards to bash the roof of your channel once the both of your two below him start babbling in sync- “Th-three. Four. Five?”

Letting his back arch so sensually at the slip n’ slide of your velvety walls, “Fuck.” He has to fight to not throw his head back stupidly, because shit- watching your cute circular hole get stretched out so tightly was fucking heaven to see. “C’mon-” Each word, each breath punctuated by a mindless rut to squeeze inside. “C’mon c’mon c’mon-”

“W-will it even fit, Sugu–?”

“Of course it will, pipsqueak.”

“As if, punk.”

Geto raises a dark brow in challenge, “Heh- you speak- what- five languages and pussy isn’t one of them?”

Face burning red, Gojo only tilts his head down until his bangs cover up most of his face. Enough of playing patience, enough of humping you like some dog in heat- he’s perking his hips up and dragging them in tandem with Geto’s- who only seems to be enjoying the music of your pretty squelches. 

“Mmm– see?” Oh, those lecherous noises were only spurring him on. The double penetration makes you slurp as if you were greedily gobbling him whole, and Geto just can’t stop smiling. “Otherwise you’d know that she’s just cryyyyyying for-” Bottoming out, initial tattoo gluing to your skin. “-both.”

You gasp, “Suguru, you have six-” Just as he nuzzles his dark happy trail, fully sheathed inside of you and like he never wanted to pull out now. “-seven piercings?”

Seven piercings in all, one at the very tip scraping along your bubblegum walls, and the others massaging up n’ down Gojo’s length. “Only for you, my girl.”

“My girl, you mean.” It was a challenge. 

And Geto takes the bait. “Well then—” Purring out his sinful words, he leans over to restrain your gasping throat in a headlock. Big, beefy hands cutting off your airway- and Gojo’s dexterous fingers smushing your cheeks together embarrassingly, “Tell us. Tell us who you want.”

It comes out a whine- and then a beg—“More.” And you’re feeling the way that both men halt, as if your very voice had just shocked them into freezing. “M-more, I wan’ more- Toru- Sugu-”

Well, whatever you want…you get.

It’s like something’s snapping- audibly, in later hours you’d realize that it was Geto’s aged bedframe, but right now you’re dazedly wondering whether it was the last remnant of their sanity.

Because in such precise unison, Geto pulls his cock nearly all the way out- enough for Gojo’s fattened length to take up every mass of space inside you and bludgeon all the way to the back of your pussy. 

Reeling back, letting Geto nuzzle his startling metal piercings against your cervix- your walls. Back n’ forth back n’ forth- it’s like they’re milking themselves on you.

So big that you’re being constantly pumped forwards with each of their thrusts. Being sandwiched between Gojo’s eagerly pumping strokes, and Gojo’s mean teasing. 

The sheer carnal stretch was just so incredible that you cry out, “O-ohhh, fuck. H-how does it feel this good- s’like you’re ngh- taking me from the- inside-”

“We are takin’ you from the inside, silly girl.” Geto’s tittering out, oh, it was just so cute how cockdrunk you were for them that he just can’t help but take extra sensually long to rub your g-spot raw with his Jacob’s Ladder. “Taking every inch of you, every spot, every pulse, everything inside this cunt.”

And that’s when Gojo pipes up, pushing his thoroughly foggy glasses up his nosebridge. “A-according to my calculations with time n’ speed and- ngh, stretch, s’at least triple the- the pressure on your anterior wall and Gräfenberg spot, princess.”

You can only look stupidly along down at the scorched blush covering his cheeks, a slim line of saliva drooling down the side of your chin that Gojo has the audacity to flop his tongue out and lap up. 

“In other words…” Looking at you with such heady blue eyes- you swear you’ve never seen him look more gone. Cherry-pink lips twitching as he’s folding them into a grin, “Two is better than one.”

Geto chuckles from behind, “Now now, Satoru…don’t think our girl even ngh- understands that right now.” With the powerful headlock, he’s tugging you up to look at him instead.

And you don’t think you’ve seen either of them look so fucked-out. They weren’t any better than you.

Eyes wide, mouths parted, blushed the exact same sappy shades of pink as their bulbous tips. Each thump grazing your g-spot just makes your pussy bulge with the sagging weight of them- enough so that you almost don’t even hear Geto’s next few words.“Mm– heh, you’re sooo cockdrunk right now, pipsqueak. What’s two plus two?”

“T-two plus…” Trailing off, you can only chase their two smashing lengths for more more more. Bawling out just as much as your dripping pussy was right now, “Ngh- hck!”

“Look at you, miss valedictorian.” Gojo’s never looked more accomplished- not even during all those times he’d beaten you during a final or quiz. 

Blowing the sweat-plastered white bangs out of his face, he croaks out- “S’the only thing you know how t-to ngh-” Hissing at the ridges of Geto’s cock, the way it was just suuuuch a tight fuckin’ fit inside of you, he has to put extra pressure just to fuck up into you. “-t-take both our- cocks, huh?”

Geto drags out a lil’ ‘aw’, but there was nothing nice about the way he was starin’ down at you. “Now now, Satoru. We should ask-” And he times his slender hips just right, “-d’you even know your own- hah- name?

“I- ngh- I–” It’s just so pitchy how you’re trilling out after each gash of Geto’s thick, split-ended tip. And Gojo’s- oh, Gojo’s was just rapid. You’re feeling them both probe against your cervix at once, and shriek– “Close- ngh- hah. I’m gonna- ohh, I’m gonna-”

“Close? S’that her name, Satoru?”

“Seems so, Suguru.”

Chortling, Geto’s sodden fingerpads find themselves moving from that tummy bulge of yours to your clit. Pinching. “Then, how hah- fitting that m’gonna make you cum, gorgeous.”

“Nuh uh, I’m gonna make her cum.” Gojo hisses- ah, there was that old challenge again. And both are taking it as such - determined to be the first to make you cum.

Gojo with his rapid, half-thrusts that bash your g-spot until you’re seeing stars. And then Geto with the filthily sensual rubs n’ dubs of his piercings that make you drool. Chasing that high. Ruining yourself. 

Harder and harder- you didn’t even know if you could cum again. But it only takes one-two-three more synchronized pumps straight into the deepest depths of your pussy for you to find out - you weren’t just cumming. You were squirting.

Body shaking, eyes bawling by the end of it.

And by the looks of it, neither of the two were fully expecting that either. 

Because Gojo gasps, he flushes- muscular pelvis hitting upwards into yours as he cums, too. Thick, ropey wads of seed that clog up the channel of your pussy, “Sh-shit. Shit shit shit- s’too much.”

It really was, and it was pouring out of you in hot, ivory bucketloads. So much that you never even thought could be cooped up inside you.

And Geto? Oh, this was way more than he’d ever seen in his wildest dreams- you with your stinging lips chanting his name, and his. “Sugu- Toru- cumming. Nghh fuck, m’cumming cumming cumming-” Hips sloshing over sparkly gushes of your slick with each bounce, still sucking him up so–

“F-fuck.” If any of you were in a better state, you’d have wondered about the way that Geto’s voice pitches. Cracks. About the way his breath hitches when he’s noticing that he’s cumming dry. 

Heart thumping in his throat, rouge lips wobbling. It’s perhaps the first time that he’s officially lost for words, “I-I’m…” Remembering that conversation you had back in the café from what felt like years ago. Tongue parched, heaving- “-actually cumming…d-dry.”

“Told you.” You’re shooting him an impish grin.

“Join the club.” Gojo growls out- but that’s not what he’s worried about right now. Not at all, his forearms n’ abs were all shiny with your juices- pushing in the wiry knots of cum that sprays out of you like a fountain. “Inside- fuck, I need it inside, princess.”

Thighs trembling, you can only watch in speechless awe once Gojo’s taking up the job of webbing your pussy up with his leaking mess. Drawing an unsubtle S-A-T-O-R-U on your cunt all the while.

“Satoru…” You’re warning, throat alright tight with the feeling of Geto twitching- 

Still rock-hard.

Still needy.

“W-well…” It takes him a few seconds to collect his fucking wits - absentmindedly, he dips the crowns of his fingers inside your creamy pussy and draws out his very own S-U-G-U-R-U on the forefront of your tummy, your womb. 

Possessively, he bites down on the crook of your neck and it felt like you were being impaled by his snake bites. Burning once he guides one of your hands back to his v-line- to his tattoo of your initial. “Y’know what I love about ngh- science experiments, gorgeous?”

“Wh-what…?” You’re looking confusedly between him and Gojo- who apparently understands way before your cockdrunken mind does.

And so your nerdy rival grins with a push of his glasses. Bucking up, up, up- “They have twenty-five trials.”

.

.

.

“Oh my god- thrown to the wolves or…”

“Look at those marks—can barely even walk, is that Gojo’s doing-”

“Wait- Geto’s right behind, and he’s so close…you don’t think they’re-”

You’re fairly certain that a zoo could run through your lecture hall right now and no one would even notice. Not when they’re oh-so-occupied ogling and pointing out at the bites across every inch of your skin, the hand marks peeking from underneath the hem of your shirt. 

Hell, a few were even secretly recording- surely to send to the betting pool groupchat. And somewhere in the student body you swear you see Shoko exchange cash with Ijichi. Traitors! 

Though, to be fair you did look ruined - no matter how much you tried to tug at your sleeves and douse yourself in foundation. They’d simply run you ragged last night, if the broken bed, two broken couches, and five noise complaints were anything to go by. 

And it really didn’t help that you had Gojo clinging onto one of your sides, and Geto dangling off of the other. Almost like they were stuck to you with adhesive. 

They walked when you walked, they sat when you sat. And once you’re settled into your usual seat at the front row, surrounded by the two, you swear you hear Professor Yaga sigh something or the other about ‘not being paid enough.’

“I swear-” You start to whisper to the two underneath your breath, “If we make it out of this alive, I’m killing the two of you.”

Geto smiles, picking at one of his heavy rings. “Mm– anything for you, gorgeous. A bit kinky, however, no?”

“Hah-” Gojo only crosses his sweater-clad arms and leans back priggishly in his chair. “I’d like to see you fuckin’ try, miss valedictorian.”

Dear lord, what have you gotten yourself into?

But before you can open your mouth - or maybe stand up and run out of this hellscape of an exhibitionistic lecture altogether - a low, grouchy baritone drawls from the row right behind you.

And you don’t know what you’re more surprised at - the fact that you’re still recognizing the voice of your ex-boyfriend, Sukuna, or the fact that a nationally-acclaimed student athlete like him was attending class when he usually never did. 

“So…” Sukuna’s swole biceps bulge as he leans over his desk exactly behind you- and you didn’t know whether it was the skin-tight boxing jacket with an emblazoned ‘SUKUNA’ or the fact that he’d gotten even bigger since your break-up. Everything from the meaty thighs damn near ripping through his sports shorts, to the way he seemed to take up two seats at once. 

Obnoxiously, he hits the back of Gojo’s chair with his overly-long legs. “You three fucked. Everyone knows.”

Gojo sputters. 

Geto grins.

And you can’t rip your eyes away from the sheer ripe curve of Sukuna’s tattooed pecs- coral pink hair still damp after training, athletic figure inching even closer as he smirks. 

“I want in, ma.”

A/N. Slight Part 2 to this but can be read alone!! ALSO Y’ALL I’VE BEEN GETTING CALLED UNC HERE AND THERE TODAY I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS…

“Hm, now is it right to interrupt me during my very rare moment of peace?”

“Do you really think you deserve that right now?”

Zuko waved his arm at the guards that stood tense beside him. It was already ridiculous to him to have guards follow him everywhere, but he understood it was a tradition. Yet in the moment, the guards immediately scrambled off, grateful to have been free from whatever was going to occur in those moments. 

He stands with his hands tucked behind, lips twitching as he tries to not bluntly check you out. It wasn’t like he got the privilege to do it nowadays. But again, Zuko is Zuko and so he effortlessly moves his eyes downwards to upwards while you scoff at him with even more hate. 

“Do you think anyone would be spared if they talked in that tone to the Fire Lord?” One of the guards whispered to the other as they stole a glance in your direction. 

The other one shrugged, knowing already, “Don’t you know who that is?”

He shook his head, not one to really keep up with gossip. 

“That is the Fire Lord’s ex betrothed.” 

-

Meanwhile, you were trying to refrain yourself, arms folded to prevent yourself from strangling the smug smirk off his face. It sucked even more when it seemed even more attractive on his stupid attractive face. 

“Tell me this then Fire Lord,  why did I come to know you summoned my boyfriend last night to question him about his intentions with me?”

Oh. You came to talk about that imbecile. He figured it was one of the other reasons you’d marched up to him. The other being you finally realising your worth and how you deserved better and no one existed like that for you beside him.

Immediately turned off, he rolled his eyes. “DO NOT ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME!” 

He indeed rolled his eyes again, waving his hand dismissively, “I had a bit too much to drink, that’s mostly it.”

Laughing with no humour, “Mostly? Hm, I wouldn’t call it that exactly,” 

 Now he looked at you really, before he chuckled, “What do you want to know?”

You pointed your finger at him, poking it on his chest and you hissed out in disdain, “You, Fire Lord,” Poke, “Summoned him,” Poke “Mind you, almost in the late hours of twilight,” Poke “To ask him whether he could keep me as ‘happy’ as you would” Poke “And if he would treat me better than you could.” 

He tried. He tried really hard not to think too much about the fact that this was the first time you’d been this close and actually touched him. But he could not stop the flare in his chest when you touched him, he was close to holding your hand and letting it linger on his chest, so you could truly know just how much you still held an affect on him. 

Instead, he pretended to look confused and hurt, “I would never.” 

“Oh? Really?” You knew this, you knew him, he would act clueless. Luckily, you brought the letter that had been delivered to your boyfriend.

“What’s this then hm?”

You shoved it towards him, him casually grabbing it, an excuse really to feel your hand brush against him, wondering if the same warmth he felt for the brief second was mutual as he stole a glance back at you. One corner of his lip briefly went upwards when something flashed in your eyes at the contact. 

“You have been summoned to the Fire Lord’s assembly…” He didn’t really pay mind to what you said as he pretended to go over the letter, the one he had had written by himself only and instead choosing to focus on the way your voice lulled him gently. 

“Are you even paying attention to me?!”

“Always.” He said that putting the paper down as he looked you straight in the eye, answering with no hesitation. You had to admit, that caught you off guard and he noticed it as you looked away briefly and gulped down in nervousness he assumed. 

Clicking his tongue, he threw the paper in the air, snapping his fingers so it could be burned. 

Your jaw dropped at his actions as you stared at him, gaping in disbelief. 

“If I had known Kai was such a tattle-tale, I’d have come to visit him directly then.” 

“You are IMPOSSIBLE!”

“Now did he really tell you everything I told him? If he was being such a snitch, did he mention how much I still love you and how much it definitely is more than he ever will in a million years?”

Sighing in defeat, as if this was some miscommunication, “Of course Lee forgot to mention that. And of course, he must have forgotten to mention how I also mentioned you’d show up here, marching in with that same intense fury you always have and how if we argued over this, it would be more emotional than how he treated you.” 

You were speechless. Your tongue weighed heavily inside your mouth as you simply looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

The ever so present smugness rose back, his smile tilting into it as he looked at you, “Yeah this does sound like it happened. It must have been the alcohol that made me momentarily forget.” 

Letting out a breath of disbelief, you shook your head and rubbed your forehead to somewhat soothe the headache, “Do you even realise how difficult this is for me Zuko?”

It had been way too long, it seemed all his wishes were coming true within the short timespan, when he heard you speak his name. Albeit the intention behind it, a part of him ached to hear you say it no matter how and it seemed that part was partly pleased. 

“Eh, if he is as strong as he is, he can get past it. But seeing how he ratted it out to you but left out the important parts, maybe I overestimated him.”

“Stop it. Stop whatever you’re doing, stop interfering in my life and for fuck’s sake, you don’t even know his name!” You cried out the last bit in frustration. 

“Mm see I thought about it but it simply is not possible.” 

“Oh dear God! He says he thought about it!” You laughed mirthlessly as you were close to pulling your hair out. 

Taking a deep breath, you put all your anger and frustration into your gaze, hoping they were as intense as the burn in your chest currently felt. You moved your index finger and harshly poked him once again, as if it would help to emphasize your point.

“Leave me alone Zuko. I mean it.” Before you could say more, he held your hand that was on his chest and placed it on it more stably. He knew, he knew you could feel the intense heat that was running beneath his fingertips, the rush that sparked as his hand held yours, because you were once again caught off guard by it as you shut up. 

“Tell me this,” His voice came out roughly, “Does his touch feel this way? Does it even hold a flame to what this is?” 

The way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to burn with the passion of a million emotions as if they held all the words he had been holding back over time. The way you could feel how his heart picked up in pace, as if to solidify his words. 

And it felt even more real, when you knew your own heart was in a similar state.

“You left me darling, but I never wanted to. So how can I simply let you go when I am just in love with you?” 

You harshly pulled your hand, hating how your heart picked up even more after his questions, 

“Yo-you can’t just.” 

Shaking your head, you stepped two steps behind to keep a distance, afraid. Afraid of the intensity of your emotions as you heard his words. 

“I am leaving. If you try to send anything to Jun this time, it won’t be put up with. I will make sure you understand what I mean when I say leaving us alone.” 

He had a twitch of annoyance run within him when you addressed that loser and you as one. 

“If it means you’ll still come by, then sure!” He smiled widely as he watched you walk off, murmuring more curses at him, which sounded like a love language if it meant being directed at him from you. 

At least with this, he knows you still have him in your heart somewhere. 

a/n : ...i wrote this because the idea of a zuko mocking your current boyfriend because he can't leave you is funny ngl like he is so in love and cannot see u with anyone but him ?? i have no idea if the execution was good but lmk what you thought! and yes second part to heartburn is in the works (let me finish my paper on saturday💔🚬)

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2026

feedback is always appreciated 💌 !

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you're snapped out of your daze when he regains his breath (and composure) to question "were you harassed by the elders again today?" it wouldn't be news to him, zuko was used to diverting the topic of when he'd have kids everyone can dote on. he thought it was rather unfair, you were still considered newlyweds, and it wasn't like you were actively trying not to have children (at least as far as he was concerned) not to mention everyone kept working him to the bone…

you tilt your head to the side as you gaze at him, a hidden hunger in your eyes "no, surprisingly they've been quiet this past week," you narrow your eyes at him "were you behind that?”

"perhaps they finally gained the decency to not discuss our sex life in front of us," he shrugged, taking another sip from his cup.

you hum at his dry tone "back to the topic at hand, dear, thoughts?”

he sets his cup down and looks at you earnestly "i think we ought to discuss this in the privacy of our chambers, my love."

you say nothing further as you abandon the table, leaving behind your mostly full cup of raspberry tea you had personally requested since your first day here, and an assortment of desserts always offered right after dinner was served. you walk and zuko follows you, his steps a little too hurried compared to his usual relaxed but purposeful stride. the guards greet you at the doors, sliding them open upon your silhouette forming in the light and nearing closer to them.

they bowed their heads at you in respect and awaited till the lord of the fire nation was out of the room before walking behind the two of you. your walk to your chambers was silent but your heartbeat was anything but. you felt anticipation broil under your skin, your fingers itching to find purchase in your lover. as of right now you can feel his smouldering gaze fixed on you, walking half a step behind you just so he can watch you despite being capable of catching up to be by your side.

when you reach the familiar doors to your room, opened by the guards for you to enter, zuko clears his throat to declare the stationed personnel dismissal for the night. they hesitate for a second before disbanding under his orders. the fire lord waits for you to stride in first, watching you rid yourself of your heels as he drags the doors shut behind him.

“i take it you’ve cleared your schedule for the ni—?”

you don’t even get the chance to finish what you were trying to say when he presses you against the wooden pillar holding the curtains over your bed. he places a hand on your jaw, gentle as he holds your face and seals his lips onto yours, no longer able to hold back his desire. you meet him with a similar passion, resting your forearms on his shoulders as your hands tangle through his soft hair.

you sigh wistfully when he pulls away for air (mostly for you to catch your breath), he tilts your head back gently, exposing your throat to place kisses on your scented skin. he always did go crazy when he caught a whiff of your jasmine and vanilla perfume. unconsciously, he licks a stripe up your throat before nipping at the skin there eliciting a faint moan from you.

“zuko…”

he hums against your jaw, the area he was currently focusing his attention on. you grasp the strands of his hair to pull his head away to get a good look at him. you’ve always found him handsome, even if he thought the scar marring his skin was a detriment to his good looks, you made sure to let him know it did nothing to hinder your attraction for him. right now, his skin was flushed and his golden irises narrowed as his pupils grew in size, the hitatare he donned loosened at the top, exposing the pink on his fair skin...

"you look ravishing, my lord."

he automatically shuts his eyes as though overwhelmed and he just might be because he takes your hand in his and places it on his chest where you can feel the beating of his heart, slowly, he guides it lower till it reaches the tent formed at the bottom of his torso. his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth when you adjust your grip to hold him firmly in your hand. he inhales "that's my answer to your question.”

"didn't even give me the chance to ask if there was something in your pocket or if you're just happy to see me," he groans at your lame joke, his eyes opening to find you grinning cheekily at him.

"i can't believe i still want to fuck a baby into you.”

“i’m honoured, my lord.”

“you need to stop calling me that.”

“how can i when you keep reacting to it so pleasantly?” you smirk and peck his lips sweetly, it takes everything in him not to turn into putty in your hands. you notice of course, you always do, so you decide to ease his suffering “bed me, will you?”

“whatever my princess desires,” he easily lifts you up making you squeal delightfully as you wrap your legs around him.

“oh how i’ve missed this!” you cup his face in your hands, peppering his face with kisses “my big, strong, handsome man,” you say in between your displays of affection “i love you.”

“i’m sorry i’ve been neglecting my sweet girl, i’ll make up for it today.” zuko meets your lips halfway, slipping his tongue into your mouth after giving you a small tickle to your side.

“finally gonna get me pregnant, are you?”

he smirks against your mouth “i’ll make sure you’re so full of my seed it seeps onto the sheets.”

“what a filthy mouth you have on you, my lord, i must say it does entice me.”

he lowers you down onto the bed and stands up for a couple of seconds just watching you, enjoying the way you look moments before getting wrecked “you look stunning, my love,” he bends over to plaster a final sweet kiss to your lips “but unfortunately i’m going to have to make a mess out of you.”

you gaze at him with sultry eyes, enhanced by the black which lines both your eyelids and waterline “i’m looking forward to it.”

"get naked.”

you scoff at him. holding your arms out, you tell him "i'll need your help.”

he stands you up in an instant, his hands find your torso and he undoes the sash holding your kimono in place. the sight he's met with makes his breath hitch, all you don is a simple hadajuban, the sheer cloth baring all beneath your outfit. he looks at you with disbelief "were you planning on getting fucked tonight?”

you giggle "a girl can dream, can she not?" you catch a strand of his hair and give it a twirl while he stands in front of you. he unties the knot at your waist, his hands finding the edge of your undergarment to peel it off your skin slowly, pushing the material over your shoulders. with every inch bared, he presses a chaste kiss against the skin. your eyes flutter shut when you feel him trace his tongue over the skin between the valley of your breasts.

when he takes a nipple into his mouth, you moan loudly, unabashed, as he swirls his tongue over your bud. an impatience builds up within you and your fingers find their favourite spot, on the back of zuko's head, and they tug, harshly, causing him to unlatch from your tits "if you don't get naked right now, i will leave you alone and deal with this myself.”

his gorgeous eyes look at you unfocused for a second before he gains some semblance of clearance "do you have a thing for hair pulling?" he hisses out and you tug again just to be petty "fine, fine, get on the bed.”

you plop down, resting on your elbows as you get comfortable on the mattress. you keep your gaze fixed on his hands, watching him undress with a predatory gaze. when he shows the first sliver of his abs you let out a whistle.

"enjoying the show?" he asks with a quirked brow, his upper half now fully exposed.

"mhmm," you hum, nodding your head "want proof?" you add.

he quirks his head to the side as he rests his hands on the bunched up clothes hanging off his hips. he watches as you spread your legs and reach a hand between them. you meet your core, two fingers gathering the wetness and spreading it up and down your folds before rubbing tight circles on your clit, you bite your lip as you look at him with half-lidded eyes "well, care to join?”

zuko peels off the rest of his clothes in an instant, kicking it off his legs as he all but leaps on top of you making you squeal “are you trying to kill me?!”

“i could ask you the same thing,” you feel his hardness poking at your thigh “will you please let me fuck you now?”

“i love it when the fire lord gets all needy and desperate with me,” you grasp his jaw in your hand, your thumb pulling at his lower lip “makes me get all heady with power.”

he grabs your hand instead and places a kiss on it “is that so? i’m not above begging when it comes to you, my love.” you watch as he releases your hand so that he can position his fingers on your lips “open up,” his digits bypass the flesh of your mouth to find the cavern of your wet tongue. you don’t even have to be told what to do as you immediately suck, your saliva coating his fingers “good girl.”

when you finally release his fingers from your mouth, there’s a small string of saliva connecting them to you. he cuts it by pulling his hand away and placing it where you need them most, at the apex of your thighs. you moan softly while he plays with your clit, feeling your arousal heighten as you move your hips along with his ministrations. it’s when he inserts a finger inside you do you let out a groan, the bottom of your lip getting tucked between your teeth out of pure instinct. zuko tuts at you softly, his mouth kissing it’s way up to your ear to whisper “i wanna hear you loud and clear, sweet girl.”

“faster, zuko, please,” you exhale with an effort, his fingers paired with the heel of his palm digging into you create a euphoric sensation. he keeps at it for minutes, his long fingers pumping your slick in and out of you all whilst stimulating your bundle of nerves have you clutching your eyes shut and your hands grasping tightly onto his shoulders as you pant.

“i’m gonna—”

he retracts his fingers, the sensation building up gets cut short and you audibly whine. your eyes flit open to glare at him “what the fuck was that?” he sends you a cheeky smile and licks his fingers that were just in you.

“i want you cumming on my dick.” he shrugs. you feel his hands palm your thighs, spreading you open for him by hooking the back of your leg on his hip. he grips his length with his right hand. you prop onto your elbows once more and watch him tease the tip of his leaking cock against your slippery folds.

before you can open your mouth to complain about him teasing, he slips it in and the words die in your throat to be replaced by a wanton moan. you feel so full with him buried to the hilt and unmoving as you get used to his size. he captures your lips with his own, his chest pressing strongly against yours as he splits you wide open. you rock your hips against his to feel his pubic bone create friction against your clit.

“move,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

and he’s generous enough to do so, his hips pull out slowly only to push back into you in a steady pace. zuko doesn’t like being rough with you, no matter how much you beg for it, he can’t bear the thought of hurting you even by accident. so when you’re spread open for him like this, all he can do is worship your body and treat you with a gentleness he only panders to you. like right now, his hands roam over your curves with a softness that rivals the honey dripping from his eyes as he looks down at you. his lips appear to be allergic from parting from your lips, he’s so consumed by you that they wrap around your tongue and suck as you moan. you feel so good against him and around him that he needs to make sure the feeling is reciprocated with you.

his steady rhythm builds up to a climax that’s not out of reach, you tap zuko to capture his attention. he pulls away and stares at you with a hazy look in his eyes and flushed cheeks that would have you cooing if his cock wasn’t driving you crazy with how slow and gentle he was moving “baby, please, go faster.”

“are you sure?” he asks, his hands reaching up to hold your face in his large hands. you nod vigorously. he plants a kiss on your forehead before hooking his hand behind the back of your knee, angling your hips and you feel him reach even deeper. the guttural moan that escapes you causes his dick to twitch when you clench around him.

“i don’t think i’m going to last long,” he tells you through his teeth. you rile him on by planting your feet on his ass and meeting his thrusts with a roll of your hips.

you bring his face to yours and kiss him in between your words “that’s the goal, baby, fill me up.”

he reaches a hand between where your bodies meet and he rubs relentlessly that your eyes roll back at the paired stimulation. you capture his lip between your teeth and bite hard when your orgasm hits you with a surprising intensity. the way you clench around zuko has him releasing in you with a broken moan. you taste blood when your senses come back to you and you heave a breath with strength, pulling away to examine zuko’s face, you find a cut on his lip from the sheer power of your bite. instead of apologising, you lick the blood away and suck on his lip. you notice the candles in your room flicker, the flames now intensified.

“mmh, i’m not done with you.” in an instant, he flips you around, the tip of his length still connected inside you. he rests your head against the pillow as your ass arches up to press snugly against him.

you’re still sensitive from your orgasm, as is zuko, but he still pistons his hips into your own, the sound of skin meeting skin resounding throughout the room. you whimper when he trails his fingers over your tummy before he rubs circles on your clit.

“zuko, please—” you don’t really know what you’re begging for at this point; for him to stop, to keep going, to fill you up again? you’re not sure, zuko takes it upon himself to keep going, his balls aching to release his seed inside you. just the thought of you swole and round with his baby, clearly his for the world to see… he moans a little too loudly to be unashamed but the image is too much for him. he needs to cum in you now.

“you want me to fuck you full of my cum?” he whines into your ear, his chest pressed against your back and his hand and hips putting in the work to undo you. you mewl, his only confirmation from you since you’re wound too tight to say anything or move.

he rocks his hips into you and spills his load inside you but he doesn’t stop despite feeling so so sensitive because he needs you to convulse beneath him. he keeps at it, his left arm circling around you to cup your breasts and tweak with your nipples. the effort zuko put in was met with your unwinding, you let go and melted further into the pillow, your body going lax in his hold after your hips spasm against his. he collapses on top of you shortly after, his head resting against your shoulder blade while his body presses you further into the mattress.

“…are you steaming?” you ask once you gather your bearings, your breath coming out shallow both from exertion and his heavy body atop of yours.

“sorry, that happens sometimes.”

you groan at the feeling of his warm body, sweat slicking the both of your figures. you need a bath. you know zuko isn’t going anywhere and there’s no way you can throw him off of you so you resign to your fate. his hulking figure consuming yours meanwhile he’s got you plugged up with his seed.

“wanna go another round or should we prop your legs up, i think i heard the older women say you were meant to do that? i reckon i could still fuck you like that…”

© 𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐈 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 —all content rights belong to kittentoki. do not plagiarize any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

Your friendship went back to your pre-teen years, when you’d met them at the tender age of twelve back when they were passing by your village. It was not like you were some extraordinary kid, in fact, you were a non bender. But somehow, friendship struck with Katara when she stumbled into you at the market looking lost and soon enough, the rest of them even warmed up to you. 

Needless to say, you knew you were always the type to want to travel and never settle in one place, that part of your life still being evident when even after you finished the whole journey of bringing peace into the world, you still had the desire to continue going beyond and learning more from everywhere. 

And maybe perhaps, this was one of the reasons, you never really acted on your feelings. 

“You made it!” It wasn’t even a few minutes since you’d step into the city, which flourished with all kinds of things happening all at once, perhaps it was because of the occasion of the ‘reunion’ but nonetheless, you had a hunch this was just how it was even on the tamest of days, when you heard her.

You didn’t even try to stifle the wide grin on your face as you spun around to face Katara. Before you could even say anything, she embraced you in one of her hugs. Still the same, you thought as she hugged you tighter which made you giggle as you both stumbled a little. 

“ ‘course I did, you did threaten me afterall. But always a delight to see you Tara.” You pulled away gently, standing a tad bit taller than her, even though there was a time she was taller than you. She looked as beautiful as ever, the years really making her even more beautiful than you remembered as you scanned her face. She had that glow on her face which made you grin even more when you realised who might have caused that. 

“Where’s your little boyfriend hm? Didn’t even care to come and welcome me?” 

The blush on her cheeks made you chuckle even more, these two had been together for years and yet you could still tease her about it and she would still be blushing, it was cute. 

“Of course you expect that of me.” You heard him before you saw him, as you turned around to face Aang who had a playful scoff on his face. No longer stood the scrawny short boy who was just a few inches below your shoulder. Aang looked as if puberty decided to reward him in the best ways possible as he now stood taller than you, and somehow looked broader as well? Maybe it wasn't just that, perhaps a certain someone *cough* Katara *cough* also was a reason he'd aged gracefully. 

“I wonder how you are taller than me now, shorthead.” The nickname still stuck as he also embraced you in a hug and despite knowing he had definitely matured, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes showed that there was still that Aang you'd known within.

“You know, the nickname doesn't really work anymore? Considering I am now WAY taller.” To add to his statement, he pointed out the difference by waving his hand above your head to which you rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead, “Yeah not happening, you're still the same to me.”

Katara chuckled at your antics and shook her head. She was just glad she could finally meet one of her best friends who she had been wanting to meet for so long. Even when she remembered, trying to make you stay behind with her and Aang, deep inside she knew you were someone who wanted to go way beyond. She had that sense since the minute she met you. And more so, when you agreed to come with them during that time so readily.

“How's gran doing?” She recalled your grandmother, the one who actually was the reason behind the way you were. It was in fact, her stories of the world and the very many tales of people and places that made you want to go and see these fantasies in real life.  

“Oh you know, same old, same old. I told her to come with me here but she insisted that you all come and visit her.” Katara nodded at your words and chuckled again, knowing how the conversation probably played out. 

“Is that who I think it is?!” The scream already said enough as to who it was and before you could even look at him, he jumped right onto you. “I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU'RE ACTUALLY HERE.” 

And classic Sokka, who completely forgets that he's not the same as he was when you could handle his hugs without toppling over. So, as he did come to hug you, you both toppled over to the ground. Groaning you tried your best to wrap your arms around him, but again it seemed puberty also somehow managed to make him even more buffer. 

“Oh Go- can’t- breat-” You could hear Aang and Tara laughing as you glared at the two when you could feel your neck getting wet from Sokka…crying?

“Are you crying??”

“n-No!” 

“I'm still alive and here and I feel that might just change in a few moments.” Your last few words came out in groans as you tried to not feel crushed. 

Sokka was probably the one who you got along with the most, one of the main reasons being of course, that you two were both non-benders. So a lot of your own thoughts and feelings are aligned in those matters. But despite that, you'd still have your own differences, even then so you managed to get along the most with him.

“You're literally crushing her, stupid.” And there were only two people who you knew that would sound both rude and concerned at the same time. 

“Sorry!” You looked at him as you both got up, dusting off whatever had stuck to you in the process and somehow, you think that he was the one who remained the most unchanged. 

“It's fine, I missed you too idiot.” You laughed as you pulled out a handkerchief that was tucked in your pocket, which he gladly took and you shook your head. The other two came over and helped him compose himself as though he truly couldn't find better words. It had been way too long since he talked to you, and somehow he couldn't find the words. 

“Nice to see you too Toph.” You grinned even more as you stopped closer to her, and even knowing how much physical touch was a bit of a hit or miss with her, you went near her, to which as she could sense you closer, she showed one of her rare smiles and opened her arms. 

Damn I did really miss out on their glowups huh?! And where did mine disappear too?! 

Despite Toph also being shorter and way lankier as a kid, she has gotten quite buff and now stood at a similar height to you. 

Even though you didn't feel that different physically, the rest of your friends thought quite the opposite. Afterall, doing something you truly desire and doing it for a long time does change you mentally but physically as well. You glowed and carried that sort of confidence that only comes when you're truly someone who's grounded within yourself. It came off from your whole body language and even as Toph hugged you, she sensed a whole different yet same being from the skeptical but brave little girl she'd known. 

You pulled away and finally looked at all four of them, their happiness radiating as they finally got to see everyone back together. Well not everyone. At least not to you yet. 

Having met the four of them, there remained only one. And somehow, you had very mixed feelings for this one. Not because you didn't like him or so but it bordered on quite the opposite actually. 

 Even after all the years of being away, it seemed you were back in your pre-teens, harboring the crush that bloomed over time for Zuko as even the mere thought of him, even at that very moment, seemed to quicken your heartbeat more than ever. 

This time, you saw him before he even said a word, your eyes scanning over the others and landing on him before he saw you. 

The rest of them were talking, to you, to each other but your attention was forcing you to find him and then you finally did. 

And Oh Dear God. 

Back when you were that daydreamer, you thought your crush was solely on the fact that Zuko was probably one of the most attractive guys you'd ever interacted with. Sure, he had his own fair share of…issues, yet somehow as you grew up with him in that time, you could see him change. And that change itself made him more and more attractive to you. 

You didn't think it was possible for him to get even more fucking attractive but there he stood. 

He looked way taller, broader, more well kept with his hair even longer. His scar added just more awe to his whole being as you scanned him head to toe. He always had that authoritative aura and it seemed being Fire Lord was really working out for him, after all he was born for this. It didn't really go unnoticed as Aang and Katara gave you a side-eye to which Toph only raised her eyebrows in amusement as she picked up your racing heartbeat. 

“And did you finally spot your true love?” Your attention turned to Toph as she held that knowing smirk on her face to which you glared and side-elbowed her. 

It wasn't exactly hidden, your feelings for Zuko, at least not from everyone but him. Somehow you had been able to disguise them whenever he was around but the others did figure it out eventually. Even Sokka for that matter.

Speaking of, he came up next to you and immediately pulled you in another side hug, “I still cannot believe you finally came. We all thought you were probably somewhere very far away considering you didn't reply to any of our letters in the past few months.”

You let him be clingy, because well, really you missed it a lot. Nodding you replied, “I do have all your letters, and I figured it would be better to surprise you instead.” 

Over time, you'd send them letters with the places of where you'd be staying so they could also send theirs and you kept every single one of them.  

As you turned to face Sokka as he rambled on about how much you'd missed out on, while Aang and Katara filled in between the conversation with Toph also giving her inputs occasionally, you didn't notice another person walking over.

Zuko stood a few feet away and just waited. As he waited, he really looked at you. It had been so long since he's seen you, he didn't even realise just how much he…missed you.

You'd changed. You'd changed in ways he didn't even think you would but you were still as…beautiful as ever. You looked happier and it was very much visible with the twinkle in your eyes as you spoke and gestured. 

His own heartbeat picked up in pace as he realised the stupid infatuation he felt for you as a teen, wasn't actually ever gone. Over the years, he felt it likely faded away, despite the fact that whenever he did get a letter for you, he treasured them and kept them in a box hidden away in his chambers. Despite the fact that it was what he always looked forward to and made sure they were given to him privately. Despite the fact that he never took off the necklace you'd gotten him as a departing gift from before you all split, because it felt you were always there with him. 

Oh he never really got over it.

“Ah you creep, stop staring and come greet her.” It was Toph who sensed him first, everyone's attention going to Zuko while you looked up and slightly froze.

Embarrassed to have been caught like this, he walked a few steps and glared at Toph, scoffing, “I was coming over.” 

“Sure you were, you were totally not star-”

“Hi.” 

You didn't think one word would have such an effect on you but you blinked twice before clearing your throat.

“He-hey.”

“How have you been? It's uhm- great to see you again.” 

In that moment, you cursed at yourself internally for not being able to simply speak. You were mortified because it felt like all the feelings that you'd been harbouring were clogging up your throat and really you wanted to just go to him and ki-

“Great. Good. I've been well. And you?”

I can't believe I am seeing you again, I didn't realise I'd been wanting to see you this badly and now that you're in front of me, I cannot find the words.

“I've been great too.”  

I wish I told you everything, but I couldn't because it would mean making a choice and I can't do that to you. I thought I was over you, I thought I could be over you, but I simply can't. I missed you. 

Honestly to an outsider it was very much obvious. Your flushed faces, the awkward body language, the darting eyes. You clearly never got over each other and indeed, in idiocy, never even told each other. 

Sighing, it was Sokka who broke the 5 second awkward silence, “Alright you two love birds-” Standing beside him, you also gave him a hard hit to his side with your elbow while Zuko glared at him hard enough to almost send a fireball at him. 

“Right! So now that we've all met! Why don't I show you your chambers so you can rest a bit before dinner?” Of course, the ever considerate host that she was, Katara grabbed your hand and pulled you away, your luggage already being taken care of as she took you to your temporary chambers. 

As you walked away. Zuko stared off in your direction while Aang came closer to him, "I've never seen you so speechless. It's kinda hilarious.”

Rolling his eyes, he folded his arms and looked at him, “Shut up.”  

“You sooo still have a crush awww, wittle Zuko never got over his teenage crush awww~”  Sokka ducked as he laughed when a fireball was thrown in his direction. He knew the risk of teasing the ever so hot headed fire bender but he took it. 

It wasn't like they didn't try to set you both up. In fact, it was a major agenda once they all figured out everything was mutual. All they had to do was set the final stone. However, it was rationally decided that you were both adults (Katara and Toph mostly.) and there was only so much a third party could intervene. Clearly whatever it was, it would be up to you both to figure it out. 

“You're still not over him, are you miss ‘I left it all in the immature years of my life.’?” 

You couldn't even find yourself to feel annoyed, still in a haze at having encountered him. 

And oh boy was this gonna be tougher than you thought.  

[ time skip to dinner ]

You didn't want to admit you'd gotten a bit more dressed up than usual. It was definitely for the occasion of celebrating and not because of well. Yeah, the symbolic colours of different shades of red and orange weren't…a sign, you didn't exactly pick it out yourself. It was more of Katara. 

“I hope I'm not too late.” You stood beside your reserved seat, in between Toph and Sokka with Katara beside Aang and Zuko in front of you. You greeted everyone with a skeptical smile, trying not to let your nerves get the best of you, sitting down and pulling your gown along. 

And as usual, he looked finer than ever. His hair is styled perfectly with his gold emblem on top. You didn't think long hair would ever suit a guy this well but then again this was Zuko. 

And the colours didn't go unnoticed, Katara beaming at you as you sat down with Aang and Sokka side eyeing you in suspicion as they looked between you and Katara. It was definitely her idea alright. Zuko couldn't keep his eyes off you the moment you walked in, having to blink several times to make sure this wasn't some dream, because it indeed felt like the ones he had when the small part of him that always yearned for you, that he tried to suppress, was vividly imagining you being in front of him. 

He never truly appreciated red, until he saw it on you at that very moment. 

“Now that you're here, we should eat!” Clapping her hands, she pointed out the various foods, plenty of them being everyone's favourites. Your eyes lit up even more when you spotted your favourite foods, Zuko who hadn’t looked anywhere else also smiled a little as he pushed the dish in your general direction. 

And as usual, it was unnoticed by you but noticed by all. 

“So, what have you truly been up to?” It was said by Aang after a while, when you had a somewhat flow of eating and coordinating the food around. 

“Oh you know, going from here and there, learning, seeing mostly.”

“Seeing others, hm?” Sokka nudged you, wanting to know the actual tea that he’d been anticipating, but also wanting to slightly stir things up. 

Slurping the noodles, you turned towards him and narrowed your eyes, “No…not exactly but also like,”

Pausing, you realize maybe it wasn’t truly the best idea to spill about your…existent slash none existent love life in front of the one who unknowingly caused it to be all over the place in the first place.

Zuko tried to act normal, but if looked at a bit more closely, you could see the discomfort in the usual composure he had going on. He definitely needed more alcohol for wherever this conversation was heading towards. 

 “Like?”

“Well..you see it’s just,”

Toph insisted in between, picking up your spike in your heart pace, now suddenly even more intrigued. 

You contemplated if this was truly the right point to say what you didn’t mention to them, even in your letters and since you met them. It wasn’t exactly all of them the problem, the problem was in front of you, as he gazed at you in curiosity which you tried to ignore.

Sighing, you figured it was better to let the cat out of the bag sooner than later and from you rather than anyone else, “I wasn’t exactly dating, it was more of me seeing…suitors. So I wouldn’t really count that as you know, dating.” 

You avoided eye contact with everyone as Sokka gasped in his weird dramatic way as if you just told them life changing news. In a way it was, because this was never mentioned to any of them. You didn’t notice how Zuko suddenly got tense, his lips twitching into a slow frown. 

Clearing out your throat once more, you explained, “It is more of gran’s wish really, she insists I settle down and get married, because she somewhat wants to see me getting married before eventually her age catches up to her. And i- i mean i guess I sort of agree? I- i am not gonna get any younger anyway.” 

Marriage wasn’t something you considered a goal, it was more of something you would do in life once you felt like it. And over the years, you decided you wouldn’t settle for just about anyone. Hence, you also didn’t see any harm in seeing the type of suitors that existed, most of them being thrust upon by your grandma.

But also, it felt even more like a joke seeing that you looked in them for traits that were his. Too arrogant, too scaredish, too shy, too boring. None of them till date fit any of the so-called standards you mentally had. None of them were Zuko. 

If you couldn’t have him in this lifetime, maybe you could have the closest version to him. Yet, no one was even close. This was a feeble attempt to actually get past it but it failed severely. 

He took another shot of whatever alcohol was in front of him, the burn in his throat going in parallel with the burn that slowly crept in his chest. Meanwhile, you continued to avoid his line of sight. Katara’s eyes darted between you two, and had an…idea. Maybe it was finally time to push you both somewhere. 

“Oh, ooh, I know- you can totally see suitors from here!”

“What?” “What.” “Uh-” 

“Oh come on, this city has plenty of great guys! Heck, probably better than whoever you have seen so far, so what’s the harm?” Okay, maybe a bit of a stretch. But she knew if she wanted to kill two birds with one stone, she’d have to exaggerate perhaps a little. Or a lot.

With a questioning gaze, you momentarily forgot about your food, “Really?”

“Duh of course! In fact, I shall gladly introduce you to a few tomorrow.”

You did not really like the scheming that was going on, you could tell it was scheming just by looking at her. You narrowed your eyes further in suspicion. 

Before you could speak up, Zuko cleared his throat loudly, “I- I uh think, I’ll call it a night. It was good catching up but I think I should go now.” 

It was very abrupt as he stood up, one of his fists clenched up as if he was trying to control himself. His emotions. 

It wasn’t just the alcohol getting to his head, it was also how his stupid thoughts drifted off to imagining you with some other guy, getting married and all that stupidness. He needed to breathe. 

And with that, he left the table and wandered off, preferably somewhere he didn’t have to hear about your potential husband, or whatever.  

How could you even prefer him? He was…difficult. He had several issues and it took him years just to accept that it just made him into who he was. And it wasn’t like you could ever look at him in that way. He was one of your close friends. He had a chance to spill it all, way long ago but alas his own cowardness got in the way, and he came to a realization that he did not want to ruin your friendship for a fickle crush. 

You continued to look in the direction Zuko went. It was so spontaneous and even more weird that you felt…guilty about it. 

“Go!”  You didn’t even grasp that you’d been frozen until Toph shook you. “You should go after him.”

You turned to face them, Katara looking at you with encouragement as Aang and Sokka also got a realisation that this was somewhat a set-up. Well by Katara atleast. 

Taking a deep breath, you stood up. Wondering if you were making the right choice. 

How easily some moments could change the simple trajectory of your existence. 

a/n : THERE WILL BE A PT 2 I PROMISE THERE IS A CLEAR VISION TO IT. IT IS THERE AND IT WILL BE POSTED. i cannot lie, i have gone through all stages of grief as i wrote and contemplated publishing this so if this is ass pls do not tell me <3 (im kidding hahahhaahah) pls lmk if this made any sense tbh because once again, this is purely fueled by me thinking about zuko on a daily basis once i saw the leaks of the movie and ohmygosh they all look so fine i cannotttt. i have an idea for a modern au but i have never really even written for this fandom so....urm lmk what you think now i shall go back to studying for my finals which is legit in 3 days mind you :D kay bye love you <3

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2026

Most fathers would be pleased by the information— not yours, he’s a little more… strict. He already doesn’t like him from a joke made over a decade ago, suggesting you’d make a fine concubine, which wasn’t taken lightly. 

Your father threatened to usurp the throne, sending a chill running down a then 21 year old Zuko’s spine.

There was no way in hell he’d hand you off to the imperial palace to become a concubine. You’re the only child of his that inherited firebending. If your father had it his way, you’d be a warrior, for fucks sake. 

Lord Zuko may have a dry sense of humor at times, but you have your doubts about how much of a joke that statement was, especially with how much he likes to bug you throughout the day.

Perhaps another conflict should erupt— the man has too much time on his hands. Maybe then you’d fulfill your fathers wish of finally working in the military— put your talents to use, as he’d say. 

But would Lord Zuko allow the gentle hands running through his hair to commit such violence? Or would that be when he’d draw a hard line with the aggressive strategist? 

As progressive as he is, you sometimes wonder just how much it extends to you. Even as children, he’d go easy on you during trainings. He’s only grown softer with you as the years passed. Despite not being a concubine yourself, you wouldn’t be surprised if he saw you as one of the flowers in his garden— one he’s not allowed to touch. 

You slide the hair stick through his headpiece, securing the top knot he had you redo. It looks the same, but you hold off on making a comment. “Is that better?” 

“Much better.” His eyes meet yours in the mirror, lips curving into a sly smile. “Now— what are we doing today?”

We. You hate how much he likes to emphasize that at times. 

“Well,” you sigh. “Aside from the usual council meeting, nothing much. Perhaps you can visit one of your concubines today… for once.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Are you saying I don’t fuck my concubines enough?” 

“Precisely,” you say almost mockingly. 

It’s all they ever complain about, and honestly, you’re sure you would, too, if you were one of them. Having to wake up and sit around all day, waiting for a man who never comes. And on the rare occasion that he does, he doesn’t stay long. He’ll show up, fuck the shit out of you for a couple rounds, then leave right after. Allegedly. 

“Don’t you want an heir?” you ask. 

“Depends,” he hums. 

With the way he’s looking at you, you can already tell what it depends on, and it has nothing to do with his current concubines. Lucky for you, he never gets the chance to actually say it because he gets interrupted right after, putting a conversation you’d rather not have to a screeching halt.

“The council is waiting for you, my Lord.”

—

The silk district was notoriously known for two things: brothels and bandits. It was the wild, wild west compared to the other districts in the capital due to high crime and the growing wealth gap. The governments always kept a watchful eye on it, which was never enough in your opinion. 

Are you surprised to hear that an entire brothel, including the madame, was discovered to be slain and robbed in the early hours of this morning? Absolutely not. 

“Send more military officers to patrol the area,” the chamberlain says without hesitation. “We’ve been too lenient with them. If they want bloodshed, we’ll give them bloodshed.”

Yikes, he wants to rule the area with an iron fist when they’re already clearly struggling. You can’t help but think of how much of a dictator this guy would be if he were in Zuko’s place. 

You make eye contact with the lord, who’s sitting at the end of the table right next to you. In that brief moment, he notices the concern in your eyes and gives you a subtle nod. 

“Perhaps we can send more public aid?” you suggest. “They’ve been testing out a new rehabilitation program in Republic City as well. I’m sure the Silk District could benefit from—“

“Nonsense,” the chamberlain cuts you off, wondering why you’re even here right now— he thought you only assisted in matters within the court, not outside of it. “I-“

“Careful,” Zuko interrupts the man rather playfully as he continues to read through the scroll. “That’s the military strategist’s daughter you’re speaking to.” 

The comment makes you nearly roll your eyes, knowing the only reason why he said it was because you’re having to constantly remind him yourself when he gets too close. 

The chamberlain, however, straightens up immediately. You have no idea why it took him this long to realize it. He’s been here for nearly over a year, but at least he knows now. The chamberlain can be quite rude at times, you wouldn’t want him to slip up with your father in the room. Not only would that earn him an earful of insults that are as creative as they are hurtful, but it’d also be embarrassing on your part. 

That old man embarrasses you enough when he’s around. Following you around like a lost puppy after meetings, asking if you’ve eaten and if your superiors are treating you right, while side eyeing the fire lord himself. You’d agree so yourself that he has too much power in the court. He enjoys holding it over everyone’s head even more. It’s sickening, really.

You look at the chamberlain, who is now pouting, and offer an apologetic smile. “May I continue?” 

“Yes, of course,” the old man nods, struggling to hide his shame.

Always one for games, Zuko finds himself suppressing a laugh, which in turn makes the chamberlain’s slouch worsen. He’s grown to find more and more amusement in his daily tasks, a trait his father would definitely disapprove of— good thing he’s not here anymore. 

The rest of the meeting went by as smooth as it could be, with the fire lord, of course, praising the chancellor in the end for being so well behaved, pretending to wonder what could’ve changed his usual demeanor. The usual teasings, all while you once again found yourself thinking of how light he’s become. Even after receiving such upsetting news, he stayed calm while finding a solution. 

A humane one.

No longer the grumpy, angsty boy you grew up with. He’s actually quite charming. But you keep that to yourself.

The palace grounds are empty, as they should be during the afternoon. Everyone’s off either eating, napping, or tending to duties such as cooking or cleaning. It’s quiet, surprisingly peaceful. Your footsteps echo throughout the breezeway as Zuko defies the basic etiquette of walking ahead of you as a ruler should. Instead, the bastard walks a little slower than you. If given the opportunity, he’d turn it into a mini competition of who could walk the slowest, up until you both come to a full stop, with him looking at you all smug. 

“Your chambers are this way,” you remind the said bastard as if he’d already forgotten. 

He doesn’t bother to look back as he responds, walking down a gravel path leading directly to the flower garden. “How about we take a detour today, hm?”

You watch him for a moment, waiting to see if he’d stop. He doesn’t, and you shouldn’t be surprised by it. You’re able to catch up with him in just seconds given his slow pace, this time not bothering to walk behind him as he’s clearly in the mood to be extra stubborn today.

You’re all alone and away from the hearing distance of anyone else, yet you still choose to speak quietly as you start to gently tease the man. “What a surprise to see the king taking some time to enjoy his garden.” 

He lets out a soft laugh that fades into a hum. “Only around a select few.”

“Oh, wow,” you pretend to be impressed. “How charitable.” 

“It’s an honor that you think so,” he says, placing a hand over his chest to add to the theatrics, trying not to laugh once again. “Tell me, when was the last time you walked through here?”

You hum as you walk further into the sprawling garden filled with wooden arches covered with green vines and flowers in full bloom. “Can’t say I actually remember when.”

“That’s a shame. I had the gardener plant new rose bushes,” he murmurs. “Wanted to ask what you thought of them.” 

“I think they’re lovely,” you admit, softly pinching a petal, rubbing your thumb over the velvety skin.

He smiles. “I figured.” 

They were your favorite after all. 

Why is he like this? The garden’s already filled with enough flowers. A new section wasn’t needed. 

Again, he’s just bored.

In an attempt to keep the conversation from getting any more personal, you change the subject. “Are you looking forward to your trip to Republic City?” 

At the end of the meeting, it was decided that he’d visit with the purpose of getting more information about the new rehabilitation program the city was rolling out. While the chancellor wanted to take a more aggressive approach, he decided to take a more peaceful route. It’s admirable how hands on he’s chosen to be since taking his father's place. 

“Mhm. It’ll be nice catching up with some old friends while I’m there—“ he cuts himself off and looks at you with slight suspicion, “you’re going, right?”

You never said you would, nor did you want to, honestly. It’d be nice to take a break. “I’m sure you and some of your subordinates can handle it.” 

“Weren’t you the one who came up with the idea, though?” his tone slightly clips as he reminds you. 

“I was,” you respond tentatively, taking back your thoughts from earlier as you look him in the eyes. 

This man looks like he’s about to throw a fit. 

Zuko opens his mouth again, already knowing he shouldn’t be this pushy towards you, of all people, but he is far from perfect. 

So with a forced smile and all the resolve in the world, he murmurs, “you’re going.” 

You smile back despite feeling an annoyed heat creep up your neck, heart starting to pick up. “Alright.” 

—

Imagine being the fire lord, a literal ruler, and getting the cold shoulder from your own advisor. Every answer is so curt and clinical, and it’s going to drive him up the wall. 

Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord. Apologies, my lord.

Give him a fucking break.

As if you weren’t punishing him enough, you went ahead and had two of his concubines “accompany” him on the trip. It’s not like he can say no to that, either, since it’s considered to be one of his duties. Not to mention they both come from high-ranking families that would not be very pleased to hear of their neglect. 

So now he has to deal with two spoiled, pent-up brats hanging on him during the entirety of this flight, all while trying not to glare at the biggest brat of them all— you, as you sit directly across from him, reading probably what’s some pathetic romance novel.

This is fucking ridiculous. You haven’t looked at him once since you first sat down.

You’re no better than him. There was a strike of lightning in the direction you walked off in, and given how it was a perfectly sunny day, he’s pointing his finger at you for the damages done in the east wing, despite keeping his mouth shut on the matter. Complain about being dragged to Republic City all you want, but you still have it better than most. If you really did have it that bad, you would’ve been punished for such an offense. 

Like, seriously? Blowing shit up, like a fucking child— a terrifying one, to be frank, you are absolutely your father’s daughter— just because you had to do your job? Grow up. His grandfather’s statue was shattered in the midst of it all, thanks to you. You’re lucky he never liked the bastard.

In protest, you’re dressed like a noble's daughter rather than a member of the court. Wearing the finest silk and adorned in gold imported from the Earth nation, quietly refusing to represent your actual nation as you claim to be representing your clan— proof that you have enough power on your own to be acting like he’s actively denying you of basic human rights.

As if he even cared about your attire. Be his guest! You look fucking hot. Someone might even mistake you for one of his concubines, and he might just not correct them, since you think you’re more petty than he is.

Zuko gets pulled out of his thoughts when Concubine Aika speaks, still leaning against him and rubbing on his chest. She asked what book you were reading, which is when you finally looked up from it. 

“It’s sort of an adventure novel.” You look at the cover, speaking to her with a certain warmth you’ve been depriving him of. “It’s about a girl escaping an abusive orphanage once she turns 18 and follows her journey for the next 10 years.”

So now you’re fantasizing about leaving him? Good luck with that. 

“You look troubled, my lord,” the woman to his right, Concubine Saiyo, says. She’s leaning against him as well, now tracing her fingers along his jaw. “Are you alright?” 

“M’fine,” he murmurs, trying to fix his face as he takes a sip of sake. “It’s been a long flight.”

“There’s a private cabin you can retreat to, if you’d like,” you suggest, going back to your little book, missing the way you just made the lord’s eye twitch. 

“I know,” he says. 

It’s his airship. 

Without warning, he gets up from his seat. Was it a little rude? Perhaps. But surely the two women beside him could understand what feeling hounded could do to someone. They don’t, they do their jobs and get up as well, which he understands. However, Zuko’s not in the fucking mood right now and waves a dismissive hand. 

“No need,” he curtly says, making his way to the back of the airship. “I just want to close my eyes for a bit.” 

. . . . . .

The trip starts off strong with a banquet being held in honor of the fire lord's arrival. 

Contrary to Zuko’s wishes, nobody’s stupid enough to mistake you for one of his concubines. At least not within the circle of people you’re mingling with tonight, who all recognize your family's crest engraved on your hairpin. 

They were an ambitious bunch that spread all over once Zuko came into power— reaching amongst the highest positions within the military, medicine, and even education. 

Funny enough, your position in the court was nothing special in comparison to some of your relatives’ achievements. Some are even bothered by the fact. Being the first of all your cousins to master the art of firebending, being your grandfather's favorite solely for bending lightning with the same grace as he did in his prime, all while excelling in your studies. 

All of that potential, just wasted on being the lord’s “pet”. 

You don’t have much of an opinion on the disappointment some of them have expressed in the past, though it would’ve been nice if their words had stayed behind closed doors. You didn’t want to hear any of it. If you truly wanted to make use of that said potential, you would’ve worked directly under your father as his subordinate. 

Maybe it was the result of growing up feeling like you were enough. You have nothing to prove, and quite frankly, you’re content with having a role that really only requires you to share your opinions with a ruler that shares the same ideals as you… for the most part. 

If only he’d also agree that you two spend way too much time together. 

Luckily, you’re not required to be by his side tonight since you’re attending the banquet as a representative of your clan— something Zuko had no clue about until the moment you stepped onto the airship, which had him looking like he was about to blow a fucking gasket. He absolutely sucks at masking his frustrations. You’re surprised his concubines still had the courage to cuddle up with him. He looked like he was 2.5 seconds away from throwing you off the ship mid-flight. 

Zuko would never do that, by the way, but you’re sure he was daydreaming about it. 

But even then, with all the distance between you tonight, you can still feel his eyes on you. Just watching and waiting for you to do something he didn’t like. Very masochistic considering how he wouldn’t confront you if you did end up doing something wrong in his eyes. 

You spend the entire night avoiding eye contact, which isn’t too hard given how all you’ve done is catch up with old peers from school and relatives who’ve decided to move here to start new lives. 

The relatives you got along with, that is. 

You were enjoying yourself. Truly. Until Sokka called you over to their table. 

Funny how Zuko wasn’t looking at you then and was instead stuffing his face with spicy dumplings, then downing it with whatever liquor was in his cup. 

You walk over with two thoughts running through your head— please don’t let this man be as drunk as Sokka and Aang, and don’t let this be a conversation about how work was been. Sokka tends to ask those things at the wrong time, despite his heart being in the right place. 

This time around, it’s not Sokka.

“How’s our flaming hot lord treating you?” Aang asks, throwing an arm around a very drunk Zuko, who’s laughing his ass off over the avatar’s words for once. 

Your lips may have twitched a little, as well. Only because Aang gave even less fucks when in an inebriated state. 

“Oh, you know— the usual.” You let out a lighthearted laugh, and only you notice the way Zuko’s face momentarily drops. 

The air around him quickly screams ‘don’t fuck with me’, then settles back into something more suitable for someone who’s already had half their water weight in alcohol. 

“C’mon, you can do better than that,” Zuko forces out a laugh, leaning back in his seat. 

You laugh a little harder. “Can I?”

“Yeah, you can.” 

Sokka lets out this weird, giddy gasp because he loves drama, and cuts in. “Are you two fighting?”

“No.” 

“No.”

You and Zuko look at each other after shutting down Sokka’s question at the same time. The fake smiles you’re wearing are not helping your case at all. 

“Where’s Katara? I’ve been wondering where she’s been this whole time,” you ask in an attempt to keep the energy between you from getting any more awkward than it already is

Aang grows a little pale— the instant karma feels nice. “She’s a little sick tonight.” 

There’s a bit of fear in his voice. She’s totally pregnant. Not that you say that. Instead, you just point in some random direction behind you. “That’s terrible— my cousin actually just mentioned a bug going around. I hope she feels better soon.” 

“Thank you,” the man lets out a sigh of relief, allowing himself to be delusional for just one more night. 

“What about Toph?”

“Home. Asleep.” Sokka rolls his eyes. “She’s like a little old lady now. You’ll see her tomorrow, though, she’s been volunteering at the center.” 

“Volunteering or beating everyone into submission?” Zuko murmurs, and they all erupt in laughter. “She probably runs that place like the military.”

You find yourself starting to zone out as the conversation moves on to a different topic. You’d like to blame some of the wine you’ve been sipping on throughout the night for that. Everything starts to melt together— the live music, the endless chatter in every which direction. The only thing that pulls you out of it is seeing another one of your cousins who had just arrived, waving at you, and you don't shy away from taking that as an opportunity to excuse yourself. 

Aang and Sokka were as kind as usual when you said your goodbyes. Zuko, on the other hand, was harder to read through the pathetic excuse of a smile he gave you. One only meant to save face. 

If only he knew just how much worse he makes things sometimes. Although they’re rare, this isn’t the first fight you two have been in. Perhaps you have been a little petty towards the man, but it’s not you who grows so frustrated at someone’s anger that you begin to hold a grudge yourself. 

You arrive back to your room in the early morning with the regret of not cutting yourself off from the drinks sooner than you did. You wouldn’t say you were drunk, but you were definitely tipsy as you started to shed layers of clothes and jewelry to get in the hot bath that had been prepared prior to your return. 

Aang may be childish at times, but fuck was he a great host. Or maybe it was Katara who had all of these amenities set up for you. Candles and bath salts— you could die a happy woman right now as you settle into the stone tub, taking deep breaths, letting your muscles relax. 

Twenty minutes in, you hear rattling and heavy footsteps that seem to hit the ground with more confusion than the determination an attacker would usually have. It forces you to leave the warmth of your bath, slipping on a robe. Getting hit with annoyance rather than fear may be a little foolish. Overconfident, even. But there’s still alcohol running through your veins, and you aren’t the pride and joy of your clan for no reason— you can absolutely hold your own in a fight. 

When you walk out of the bathroom, you come face to face with exactly who you were thinking of.

“Fuck,” he looks away for a moment, regretting his decision thinking it was okay to just walk in. 

Zuko didn’t think you’d be bathing, for some odd, stupid reason. Judging by the fact that he’s still wearing his usual day clothing and his hairs not up in a bun, it’s safe to assume he went straight here after leaving the banquet. 

You let out a long sigh. “God— what are you doing here?” 

You don’t even sound mad— just disappointed that you have to see him once more before you lay your head to rest, which slightly hurts the man’s ego. Truth be told, he came here to argue with you, but even in his drunken state, he’s finding it quite difficult to do so since he looks like a fucking pervert now. 

“Your comment from earlier— what the hell was that about?” Zuko sounds more wounded than anything right now. 

You cross your arms, leaning against the door frame that connects the room to the bathroom. “What comment?”

“The usual,” he says with air quotes. “Do you not like me anymore or something?”

“You’re seriously asking me that right now?” Your face twists, just dumbfounded at this point. “You ask me that as if I don’t work for you?”

He scoffs. “So what, you’re saying I’m not your friend now?”

“I mean, yeah— you are, but I’m still your subordinate at the end of the day,” you attempt to spell it out for him, trying to get it through his brain that he can’t just act like you two are a pair of besties. 

But he just continues to argue with you. 

“Really? ‘Cause last time I checked, people don’t fight their superiors.” 

No, they do not. You’re not sure why you even tried to make that an argument, the line between you has blurred a long time ago. 

“You know what, just— forget it.”

The thing is, you're not the best at taking accountability. Most of the arguments you’ve had with him have been swept under the rug after a while. Zuko's not having that right now, though.

“Hm— actually, no— I don’t think I will,” he stubbornly says. “You have been punishing me for fucking weeks now and now you just want me to forget it?”

Punishing him?

You roll your eyes, muttering “oh my god” under your breath, not even bothering to look him straight in the eyes anymore as you walk to the nightstand and pick up a small jar of body cream. 

“We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” you say dismissively, rubbing the jasmine-scented cream into your hands. “I need to go to sleep, and so should you, honestly.”

It doesn’t matter how well he can handle his alcohol— he reeks of it. 

“I’m trying to talk to you right now so I don’t have to deal with your attitude tomorrow,” he says, as if he hasn’t had an attitude himself the last couple of weeks. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to,” you murmur back. 

What feels like minutes pass after your pathetic attempt to settle your issues with him. At first, he just lets out a sigh, trying to keep his composure, but then he laughs under his breath. 

“So that’s it?” he asks in a condescending tone. “We’re all good now?”

“Yes. Goodnight, Zuko,” you hum. 

More silence follows after. You can just feel his eyes on you despite still facing away, now reaching for some hair oil, waiting for him to leave.

He never does. Even after working the product into your hair, you have yet to hear the door to your room close, making you grow wary. 

There are many things telling you not to turn around at the moment— your blurred mind and tensed body. But even you make mistakes, lots of them with Zuko, and so you finally turn around. 

His lips are on yours. 

You don’t know how long he’d been standing directly behind you, you never even heard his footsteps. All you know is his hands are snaked behind your neck and he’s kissing you and you’re letting him.

It takes you a moment to realize you’re kissing him back— too focused on how soft his lips are, how his tongue glides across your lower lip before slipping inside, so commanding yet so gentle. 

Then you sober up— pressing your palm flat against his chest and pushing him back so you two can look at each other, eyes wide and filled with instant regret.

“What the hell was that?” you try to snap at him, but the sharp edge was dulled from the start, already fearing what’ll change between you from this moment forward. 

“I— fuck,” he stutters, taking another step back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

Immediately, you cut him off. “No, you shouldn’t have and you know that.”

“I know.” It sounds like a plea coming from him as his chest tightens. “I’m sorry.”

Even you start to look apologetic, which breaks his heart a little since you did nothing wrong. The one who crossed the line was him, after all. “You should go. You’re drunk.” 

He opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it shortly after. There was nothing to say. 

And so he slowly nods and turns around, still in shock by his own actions as he begins to walk away, leaving you to deal with the aftermath of what the fuck just happened on your own. 

This was going to be the longest work trip of your life. 

notes: i hope u guys enjoyed this first chapter!! this was supposed to be a oneshot but then ideas kept popping up in my head and i thought, why don't i just turn this into a longfic like defiance lol. the plan is to follow these two around throughout a couple arcs, with the first one being them trying to navigate their feelings and attempting to go back to normal while trying to fix the shit show in the silk district.

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